#(it’s not actually a take I’ve seen here)

[bxnfire]

Silver Tongue || Satoru Gojo

✎ synopsis: after losing a bet to geto, gojo has to go get a piercing of geto’s choice, but this was far from a punishment; you were his piercer, and one thing sure leads to another when dealing with someone with a silver tongue like gojo

✎ content/warnings: piercer!reader x gojo, smut, fluff, oral (f. receiving), semi-public, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, masturabation, needles (?), pet names, dirty talk, mutual pining, flirting

✎ a/n: bra i saw this random mf on tiktok with a tongue piercing and decided my beautiful man should have one as well. enjoy <3!

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Geto and Gojo have been friends for a really long time. Their dynamic is a chaotic one, but it works for them just fine. It is not uncommon for the 2 to go out a lot, but what is uncommon is Gojo losing bets. Gojo was cocky, yeah, but he had a reason to be; he was the kind of guy to be good at what he tried his hand at no matter what, often leaving Geto amused by trying to figure out what it was he couldn’t do.

Turns out, Gojo’s biggest enemy was his very own ego. After a long day of doing random physical activities, Geto challenged Gojo to a simple race. Of course, Gojo was fatigued but he let his ego take the best of him, and thus accepted Geto’s challenge.

“But,” Geto added, “if I win, you’re getting a piercing. Of my choice.”

“So then if I win, you’re getting my initials tattooed on your arm,” Gojo said cheekily, trying to think of the stupidest font to request at the tattoo shop.

“You’re so on,” Geto replied. And with that, they had a race. But much to Gojo’s dismay and Geto’s amusement (or rather, amazement?), the former lost.

That is how the pair found themselves at 1 a.m. at the door of the tattoo shop you worked at. You were a great tattoo artist and piercer, but since you were still in college you were often given later shifts, which allowed you to meet interesting characters, this duo being one of them.

You were sitting at the counter working on some new designs when you heard the door open, and once you looked up you made eye contact with the deepest cerulean eyes you had ever seen. Unaware that you were starring, you got startled once the man next to him spoke to you.

“Hey there Y/n, nice to meet ya,” said the black-haired male, looking at your name tag, startling partly because you were in a trance watching the white-haired guy next to him, and partly because his voice was oddly… sultry.

“Hi, whatcha thinking of getting today?” You ask him, eyeing his piercings.

“Well the thing is we’re not here for me today, though I may come back; we’re here for him,” he smiled, gesturing towards the guy that had you in a trance.

“Yeah…. I’m getting a piercing today,” he said, looking deep into your eyes.

You swallow before replying. “So then, what piercing would you like?”

“What’s popular with girls these days?” He says smirking.

The black-haired guy laughs, slapping him in the back. “You’re so dumb,” he manages to get out between laughs.

“Well,” you paused, genuinely trying to answer his question, “I’ve seen a lot of girls go crazy for some eyebrow and nose piercings. You could also get traditional earrings of course, they’re always good starter piercing.”

“I don’t know if I want it to be so apparent though… but I like the eyebrow piercing suggesting,” he responds, deep in thought.

“Not too quick Satoru, remember our bet: I get to choose your piercing,” he cuts quick, looking at Satoru.

“Oh… Bring it on then, I could rock anything,” he laughed, his pride shining through.

“You’re so damn cocky, I’d like to shut you up… actually, yes, I’ll shut you up,” he then turns to you, “he’ll be getting a tongue piercing tonight,” he says, decidedly.

“I hope you’re not a foodie then,” you say amused, catching on the dynamic between the two.

“Suguru,” he cries, “you KNOW this won’t end well.”

“Well that’s part of the point isn’t it?” He smiles softly, his angelic tone just making it funnier.

“Well, I’ll start setting up my station,” you say, looking through a couple of drawers until you find tongue jewelry. “While I set up, pick one of these, I recommend the first 3 at the top, they’re nicer while you’re healing.”

As soon as you leave, Satoru starts looking through the selection of piercings. Pills, dice, even a marijuana leaf, and he giggles, but in the end, he does take up on your recommendation and chooses a simple, silver stud.

“I can’t wait to hear you speak after this,” Geto says.

“Oh shut up,” he replies.

“Ready! Please come over here,” you shout from your station, putting your gloves on.

“Coming!” Said Satoru, and as he started walking Geto followed.

As he sits down on the chair, he shows you the piercing he chose.

“I see you took on my recommendation,” you say looking at him and smiling, and Satoru felt his heart flutter.

“Y-Yeah, I did,” he replied, trying to hide how flustered he was.

“You nervous?” You ask, catching on to his stutters.

“You could say that,” he laughs, happy he could cover it up so easily.

And sure, maybe to you he could, but not to Geto. He quickly caught on the fact that Gojo was flustered because of you. Having known the guy for years, he knew how he reacted to injuries, danger, and even needles, and he never gets flustered, no. He’s also seen him around girls he finds attractive, and while Satoru is able to talk to them, he does get flustered at first. How adorable.

“Yeah, he’s scared alright,” Geto says, teasing Satoru.

“Don’t worry! Tongue piercings aren’t typically the most hurtful ones. Of course, it varies from person to person, but having pierced and heard from several people about them, they’re not terrible,” you say reassuringly.

What an angel, Satoru thinks. Though he’d never admit it to Suguru, he was starting to be glad he got him in this predicament. You were so cute, so sweet trying to make him feel better, and he couldn’t help but notice the piercings and tattoos that adorned your beautiful body. He wondered if there were other masterpieces hidden under your clothes.

Trying not to pry on it too much, he watched you get a marker and come close to him, so close he could smell your sweet scent. Shit, maybe looking at you could be my anesthesia, he thought.

“Alright then! Please take out your tongue, I need to mark the spot where I’ll pierce,” you say.

“Well then,” he says, taking his tongue out. Getting a funny feeling as you mark his skin, he tries not to giggle in fear it’d mess up your work.

You pull away and then put a mirror so he can look at his face. “Do you like how it looks there? Or would you want it someplace else?”

“That looks perfect, let’s do it,” he says.

“Great! Then sit while I get my stuff,” you say.

“What’s your name again?” You ask.

“You can call me Gojo,” he replies.

“Ok Gojo, Take a deep breath in,” you say, and as he does so, you put the needle through his tongue, “then breathe out,” once again, he obediently breathes out, relieved in the little pain he actually felt. This is when you actually put the jewelry in.

“Now I’m just securing the stud. And there ya go, take a look,” you say, bringing the mirror back.

“Wow,” he says, surprised at how much he actually liked the piercing.

“There’s some fun piercings you can put in once it heals, but make sure you’re taking care of it correctly,” you say, and then begin to explain the care process for the piercing.

As you 3 move back out to the checkout counter, you recommend some products to Gojo for whatever he may need. You also say he’s welcome to come back if he feels uncomfortable in any way.

“Or if you’re a busy man, here’s my phone number,” you say boldly, hoping it’s not obvious how attracted you were to him, “let me know if you have any questions as it heals!”

“Thank you Y/n, I’ll let you know if anything happens,” he smiles as he takes the paper with your number, automatically taking out his phone and putting the contact in.

“Alright then, ready to survive off ice cream for a while?” Geto asks.

“Sounds like a sweet deal,” Gojo replies smiling.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you say as they walk out.

“The pleasure was mine sweetheart,” Gojo replies, finding the courage from his new piercing, and luckily for you he turns around, because you’re left as red as a tomato.

As him and Geto walk out, you wonder whether he’ll text you with more than just questions about the piercing. Sheepishly, you go back to your station and clean it up, relishing on the faint smell of Gojo’s cologne that stayed behind.

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While you’re sitting on the train on the home, you get a text from an unknown number:

💬 Unknown: so what did you say helped with swelling again?

💬 Unknown: it’s gojo btw 👅

You smile. As you type up your recommendations and add him to your contacts, admittedly wanting to see him again. So then, conveniently of course, you ask for a contact picture.

💬 You: mind sending me a contact pic?

💬 Gojo 👅: [IMG]

The picture was of him taking his tongue out playfully, showing off the jewelry you had just given him. His cerulean eyes peeked through his round sunglasses, and with that you got flustered yet again, which was ridiculous: to think you had pierced nipples, tattooed in places where sunlight doesn’t quite reach, and you’re flustered over a normal selfie?

💬 Gojo 👅: you did me justice

💬 You: i think any piercing would’ve worked just fine 👀

And on the other side of the screen, it was now Gojo who was flustered at your words. Unknowingly, for the same reason as you, he asked for a contact picture. Bringing out your holder side, you take a selfie from an angle that shows many of your attributes, and Gojo isn’t immune to your charm. As he updates your contact, he can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks… and his dick.

He quickly realizes it was going to be a restless night, or rather, morning? The clock marked 3 o’clock, and whilst the world outside his room was silent, it was easy to fantasize of what it’d be like to have you there with him.

Squeezing his tip through his underwear, he thinks back to your pretty face, so focused and so close to his as you pierced his tongue. He wonders what it’d look like covered in his cum: would you lick it up? Would you clean it with your fingers? Would you make him clean it up for you?

The more he thinks of you, the hornier he gets. Taking his hardened cock out from his underwear, he starts thinking of what he’d do to you. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to see your body before him right now. Is there any piercings he didn’t catch on you having? Tattoos? Would you like him to kiss those on you? Maybe even lick them? You would probably taste so sweet, yeah, as sweet as you smell or as sweet as you sound.

At this point, he’s fisting himself quickly, massaging his balls every now and then, soon to reach his release. He remembers your sweet voice saying his surname, your laugh as you watched him and Suguru’s banter, and your beautiful eyes looking at him. With that, he came all over his hand, deciding he had to see you soon.

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As the days passed, you and Gojo texted more and more. Your conversations always started with a silly question about the piercing from him, and from then on it would range from your favorite subjects to trips you have made and your favorite foods. You found yourself crushing hard on Gojo, taking little notes of the things he liked and wanted to do, and trying to gather up the courage to ask him to hangout.

Lucky for you, he had been feeling the same, except he was bolder than you, and thus, he asked first.

💬 Gojo 👅: y/nnnnn

💬 Gojo 👅: you free tonight??

💬 Gojo 👅: there’s this place i wanted to check out near your job, so maybe before you start your shift we could go?

You were ecstatic. Quickly confirming that you were down, you get dressed and head out for the door. Reaching your meet-up spot, you anxiously wait for Gojo. To calm your nerves down, you scroll through TikTok and find yourself laughing at the stupidest videos. Not noticing a tall presence behind you, Gojo decides to surprise you, crouching down to your level to whisper in your ear.

“What’s so funny, doll?” He asks, completely scaring you.

“Gojo! Dont sneak up on me like that again,” you say, relieved that it’s him and not a weirdo, and he laughs at your scared state.

“But where’s the fun in that?” He asks cheekily, and then he begins walking to the place he wanted to go.

You two chitchat nonstop on the way there. You had nurtured a sweet friendship in the little time you guys had known each other. You really appreciated how funny Gojo was, telling you things that made you wonder just how his mind worked. There truly was never a dull moment between the two of you. The more you knew him, the more into him you became. Sometimes you could feel the tension between the two of you, walking together while your hands brushed against each other, him asking you to check on his piercing often and you having to get so close to his handsome face, and other things like that which gave your stomach butterflies.

After eating at that new restaurant, you suddenly remembered that Gojo’s piercing was now fully healed, and knowing his spontaneous nature, you suggested that he get it changed, just to switch it up a bit.

“Really? What would you suggest, you’re the professional after all,” he says while smiling at you.

“Well, we could go back to the shop and I could show you a couple of cool ones, we got a new batch this week,” you replied, thinking already of which he would like.

“Sounds like a plan,” he says, and after that you two head into the store.

It wasn’t open on Mondays, but given that your manager really trusted you, you had a copy of the keys to the store. Rushing into the shop before other people noticed, you and Gojo get settled in the quiet store. As he waits there looking around the things you had on display, you look for the drawer with tongue jewelry once again, reminding you of the night you met. Smiling softly to yourself, you pull a drawer out and bring it on the counter, the noise of you setting it down catching Gojo’s attention.

He steps closer to it and starts looking through the collection you have. Giggling once he reached the marijuana one again, he asks for the one you like most.

“Well, if I’m being honest the one you have right now is one of my favorite, you can never go wrong with a traditional silver stud. Now, I remember you wanted something to impress girls yeah?” You ask jokingly, and he blushes a little at the fact that you remembered him telling you that when you met.

“In that case, then you should definitely check this one out,” you say as you point to one that looked sort of like a hammer.

“What’s special about that one? It kind of looks like the pill one you got over there,” he asks curiously.

“While this one may look like just a little “pill” to you, it is a vibrator piercing,” you say a little flustered, realizing how intimate it was after you said it out loud.

“Oh,” he says, now looking intently at you.

“Yeah, I don’t really know if you’re an eater or anything,” you joke, trying to bring up the mood, but you notice it only made the atmosphere grow thicker, so you continue, “but this one can really take things up a notch when you’re down there hehe.”

“I’d like to say my head game is strong,” he says suggestively, “but I sure would like to see how this would make things better.”

“I could change it for you if you’d like! Or I could walk you through the process so you know what to do in the future whenever you wanna change it yourself, but trust me when I say, any girl you’re with will be very lucky,” you say boldly, hoping he realizes the piercing is not what they’d be lucky about.

“I think I’ll let you do it this time doll, I wouldn’t want to mess it up,” he says, knowing he’d be too distracted thinking of what he’d like to do to you with this very piercing if you would so desire.

“Well then,” you say, growing flustered as you get near your station, feeling him come close behind. You set him down, and ask him to open his mouth, something that feels oddly intimate considering the fact that you’re alone with him, with no one walking in, and he’s opening his mouth with your face so close to his, to make matters worse, his enticing eyes looking right at you.

You get to work in changing the jewelry as you explain to him how it works. “So, to turn it on, you need to tighten up the little ball at the bottom,” you say as you demonstrate, and then he gets a funny feeling on his tongue as he feels the metal vibrate through.

“And turn it off?” He asks, trying his best not to laugh.

“For that just unscrew it a little,” you demonstrate yet again, and he feels the vibrations coming to a stop.

Feeling the tension between you two, he decides to take it up a notch and test the waters. “I’d love to try it to its full extent,” he says, knowing that the conversation would go back to a more explicit topic.

“I’m telling you, your girl will be satisfied,” you reply, trying not to pry too much on it in fear he’ll see how badly you wanted him to try it on you.

“Well, I don’t really have a girl right now,” he says, not missing the relief and happiness that comes to your face right as he says it, “but there is someone I’d like to try it on.”

“And who might that be?” You ask, almost breathless.

“Take a guess,” he says, not giving you a chance to respond as he’s bringing your face to his and kissing you right on the spot.

After the initial shock of Gojo’s actions and the fact that your very own crush is kissing you, you let your impulse take over as you put your hand on his neck and bring him closer. You lick his lower lip asking for permission to go in, something that he eagerly grants, and your tongues find a rhythm that leaves you both breathless, your cunt feeling something whenever your tongue graced his piercing.

“So, were you able to figure it out?” He asks cheekily, still blushing from the fact that you kissed back and lord, were you a good fucking kisser.

“No, I don’t think you were very clear,” you reply, the fact that you matched his energy doing things to Gojo.

You pull him in this time, but he took his initiative somewhere else. He sat you on his lap and started caressing your sides, not daring to touch your bare skin no matter how much he wanted to, he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

On the other hand, it was getting harder and harder for you to play it cool in front of him. Feeling his big, veiny hands run all over you was making you ache for so much more. Not daring to say a word, you put your hands over his and guide them where you want them to be. You take one of them under your shirt all the way to your boobs, and in doing so you feel him moan into your kiss. Growing more confident at his reaction, you take the other one down to your ass, letting him squeeze to his desire.

He understands what you need want him to do and he starts gently fondling your boobs, switching back and forth between the two, as his other hand guided your movements to grind on his hardened dick.

You start moaning into his lips, and he abandons your lips to go on a trip down your face to your ears and your neck with his own. Finding a spot that seemed to have the greatest reaction out of you, he chooses to mark it for reference, just a little hickey to guide him later on, and one to let others now that you were his.

“This is your weak spot, isn’t it?” He says, relishing on the way you quiver at the feel of his breath on your skin.

“T-That’s one of ‘em,” you respond, giving in to your lust entirely, “but can ya find the o-others?” You ask, wanting to see how far he’ll go.

“Such a dirty doll,” he says, feeling his dick throb at your words, “of course I can find the others, I know you’ll guide me to them.”

Breaking away from you to take your shirt off, you shiver as you feel the cold hit your skin. Your nipples hardened and it was apparent through your bra, which made Gojo hungry for more of you. Taking it off as he plants a sweet kiss on your lips, he licks his way down until he reaches your nipples, and starts licking them and then blowing to keep them hard, something that had you grinding harder and harder on his boner.

“Can I try my piercing on you doll? Please? I need to know how you taste,” he says, drunk on your body, “I’m craving the sweetest treat of all.”

As he says that, his hands find his way to your underwear, and over them he plays with your wet pussy. Circling around your cunt as you whine for more, he takes your pants and panties off, letting him take a look at your naked body.

Admiring it like a master piece, Gojo stood what he’s doing altogether just to get a good look at you, wondering how concerning it’d be if he got this tattooed sometime. You squirm under his stare, and yet, you don’t feel the impulse to cover up or turn any of the lights off, if anything, you wanted him to look at you like you’re the last meal he’s about to eat.

And a feast is exactly what he had. Not even 2 minutes after admiring you like a goddess, he tightened the piercing and started flat-tongued to lick up and down your pussy. Moans quickly filled the room, the wet sensation of his tongue combined with the vibrations all over your pussy quickly overstimulating you. He puts his fingers in your mouth as his tongue finds its way to your clit. Lapping at it with the vibrating piece on his tongue sent shocks through you, making you buck your hips into him desperate to feel more than just his tongue on you. Retrieving the fingers you licked from your mouth, he put one finger inside of you, surprised at how easily it slipped into you.

“You’re so fucking warm and wet,” he says as he feels you on his finger, dick throbbing just thinking of how good it’d feel like once it wasn’t just his fingers inside of you.

Fingering you as he kept his tongue pressed to your clit, your eyes rolled back in pure pleasure, your moans now louder than they were before, sounding even more lewd combined with the sound of your wet pussy taking in Gojo’s fingers and his tongue slurping and keeping in contact with your clit.

With his free hand, he caressed your thigh gently, which seemed almost ironic giving how relentlessly he was pumping his fingers into you, how mercilessly he was working his tongue to please your clit.

You couldn’t take it for much longer. You felt your climax building up in your stomach, and just before you could tell him, you were splashing your juices all over his hand and face, leaving him shocked for a moment.

Quickly realizing what had just happened, he happily licks your cunt clean before cleaning his own fingers up, happily realizing that you’re even sweeter he thought you’d be.

“Don’t think I’m done with you just yet,” he says, getting up to undress quickly as he was eager to fuck you.

Coming out of your post-orgasm bliss, you notice how veiny his long, thick shaft is. Feeling your cunt clench on nothing just waiting for him to come inside of you, a curious hand reached for his dick and gave it a few stokes, filling your fingers get precum on them. Hearing his breath hitch, you quicken the pace of your strokes. This activated that dirty mouth he had on him, making you think that he’s nothing but a silver tongue the way he effectively had you right at his mercy.

“F-Fuck doll, your h-hand feels s-so good,” he moans. “Y-You h-have no idea what y-you do to me.”

You keep going like this for a little bit, until he grabs your hand and kisses it while looking right at you.

“I would love to cum off your hands alone someday,” he says, “but today is not that day, I need to be in your sweet pussy doll, can I?” He asks, placing another kiss, this time in the inside of your wrist.

“Y-Yes please Gojo,” you whine.

“Say my name doll,” he says.

“Gojo,” you respond.

He positions himself right at your entrance. Slapping his dick in your pussy, he teases both you and himself while his pride toys with you until you call him by his name.

“Wrong,” he says, now slapping a bit quicker, the lewd sound of skin slapping combinted with your moans filling the room. “It’s Satoru,” he says, trying his damned best not to moan at the pleasure.

Seeing you lost in that same agonizing pleasure, he dives right into your pussy, touching your cervix in that first stroke, earning a yelp from you. Wanting to keep his little game going, he kept talking. “C’mon doll, it’s easy, it’s S-A-T-O-R-U,” he panted, a stroke for every letter as he spelled out his name.

“S-Satoru! I-It’s so big!” You said, struggling to adjust to his length with how recklessly he pounded into you right off the bat.

“You can take it doll I know you must have a high pain tolerance,” he said, focusing a little too much on the feeling of your warm, soaked pussy, which squeezed his cock so deliciously, he knew he wouldn’t last long.

You, on the other hand, were in a whole other world. Satoru quite literally was fucking you silly, being already stimulated on your orgasm from not too long ago, his big fucking dick just had reached the spot you struggled to reach even with your toys. Blabbering some nonsense amidst of saying his name like a broken record, you feel your orgasm building up once again, something that Satoru quickly catches on to from the way your pussy was gripping his dick.

“You’re so tight doll, you’re going to milk me dry,” he says in between pants, “fuck, can I cum inside?” He asks while looking right at you, doubting how effective he’d be trying to pull out right now, and in all honesty, he was so lost on how good you felt he wanted to paint your insides, leave his mark, make you his.

“Y-Yes!” You do your best to say, finding it hard to get the words out. It doesn’t take long from here for you both to finish, Gojo making a mess of your pussy as by the time he pulls out both of your juices and his and intermixed coming out of you. He fingers you once more, this time to help you take his cum out. He then carries you bridal style to the bathroom so you can pee, in the meantime finding some paper towels to clean himself up and a little bit of the mess you left behind.

When you came back, he carries you back to where you had just fucked, and lays you on top of him to cool off together after such steamy sex you had.

“So… did you like the outcome?” You ask giggly, breaking the ice.

“Fuck, if getting piercings means I’ll get to be with you more then so be it. I’m coming every week for a new one,” he says, genuinely thinking of what he could get next.

“No need, I’d make time for you even if you didn’t get any more piercings,” you say, blushing at your little confession, immediately putting your head on the crook of his neck out of embarrassment.

He pulls you back, forcing you to look at him. You’re blushing, hair messy, and eyes slightly glossy after the intense moment you just had, and you’d never looked more beautiful in his mind. Smiling like an idiot after just looking at you, he says “you’re truly just as sweet as you taste,” and with that, you blush even harder.

“So then, will you be my girlfriend?” He asks suddenly, leaving you dumbfounded.

“I know it’s a bit of a rush and maybe not as romantic as I would’ve liked for it to be,” he admits, “but I must confess that I’ve had a thing for you since we met, and I couldn’t live with myself if you weren’t mine after today.”

You’re blushing so hard right now, but also matching his love fool smile, happy that he liked you back. “Of course, Satoru, I’ll be yours, but only if you’ll promise you’ll be mine,” you say, snuggling up to him and looking deep into those beautiful eyes.

“Oh doll, I have been yours ever since you merely looked at me,” he says, then he kisses you gently, you can feel his love through this kiss, which unlike the others you just shared, this one was filled with pure love and admiration, and much like the other kisses he had given you today, these were addicting, immediately making you ache for more.

For the rest of the night, you guys just stayed there talking to each other about anything and everything. Making silly plans for the future, confessing the way you both had been pining for each other, and just laughing at how funny this all was, how crazy it was that it took you two less to have sex than to confess to each other, but, it was just as meaningful nonetheless.

Going back to your apartment, you two settled in your bed, ready to sleep after such intense night. There, basking in his warmth, you realized just how lucky and happy you were to have your job, because after all, if it weren’t for that you wouldn’t have met Satoru, the boy of your dreams, and next to you, Satoru was thinking just that, and even if he’d never admit it to Geto, he was so grateful to have lost that bet and swallow up his pride, because now, he had something truly worth boasting about: you. Who would’ve thought a piercing would change his life? Certainly, he wouldn’t have guessed it, but at the same time, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[ghostly-groves]

dsmp finale full transcript

<TommyInnit> H- Hello?

<JackManifoldTV> hey

<TommyInnit> Wh…

<TommyInnit> Where have you fucking been?

<JackManifoldTV> casino

<JackManifoldTV> been here years mate

<JackManifoldTV> made loads

<JackManifoldTV> let me bless you boy

<JackManifoldTV> it’s been too long

<TommyInnit> Jack. Seriously.

<TommyInnit> What happened?

<JackManifoldTV> Wdym?

<JackManifoldTV> I just been here

<JackManifoldTV> Playing roulette

<JackManifoldTV> Actually i have an issue rn

<JackManifoldTV> come with me

<JackManifoldTV> come on!!

<JackManifoldTV> i placed this block over the payment slot and now i can’t place bets

<JackManifoldTV> put that back

<TommyInnit> Wanna know where I’ve been?

<JackManifoldTV> mine the block of diamond pls

<TommyInnit> oh, okay

<TommyInnit> Come with me

<JackManifoldTV> wait hold on can’t end on a loss

<JackManifoldTV> BIG WIN

<TommyInnit> Come with me.

<TommyInnit> I’m on the road.

<TommyInnit> It’s good to see you

<JackManifoldTV> you too man

<TommyInnit> I’ve been here.

<JackManifoldTV> here?

<JackManifoldTV> in the bridge?

<TommyInnit> Far out in the distance

<TommyInnit> That way

<TommyInnit> I have a house

<TommyInnit> It’s nice.

<TommyInnit> I haven’t seen anyone for a loooong, long time.

<TommyInnit> Well, maybe Tubbo now and again.

<JackManifoldTV> me neither casino been empty

<JackManifoldTV> honestly i just steal money from the safes to gamble with

<JackManifoldTV> i could take it all if i wanted but the thrill keeps me there

<JackManifoldTV> gamblers ambition they call is

<JackManifoldTV> one day i’ll win big

<JackManifoldTV> 99% of people quit before then

<JackManifoldTV> not me

<JackManifoldTV> i’ll make it

<JackManifoldTV> it’s been years but it’s coming

<TommyInnit> …

<TommyInnit> You’re not good at catching up, are you?

<JackManifoldTV> just telling you my story man

<TommyInnit> Never thought I’d be around these parts again

<JackManifoldTV> me neither

<TommyInnit> I moved far from here. Get away from it.

<TommyInnit> Brings back too much

<TommyInnit> Joy, Fun, Sadness, Pain. Too much of it all.

<TommyInnit> but it’s nice to see a familiar face

<JackManifoldTV> hey you too man :)

<TommyInnit> even if you did blow up my fucking hotel

<TommyInnit> I don’t live around here.

<JackManifoldTV> oh

<JackManifoldTV> thought that was where we were going??

<TommyInnit> No, oh, god no.

<TommyInnit> Do you know how long it took for me to get back here?

<TommyInnit> I come here a lot though

<JackManifoldTV> coupa hours?

<TommyInnit> Well, more than the other places

<JackManifoldTV> cool

<JackManifoldTV> quaint

<JackManifoldTV> i like it

<JackManifoldTV> maybe i’ll buy this place when I win big!

<TommyInnit> This is Technoblade’s house

<JackManifoldTV> maybe I won’t do that

<JackManifoldTV> o7

<JackManifoldTV> how long do you sit here like this usually?

<TommyInnit> As long as I need to.

<TommyInnit> Sometimes a few minutes. Sometimes hours.

<TommyInnit> Mind if I ask you something?

<JackManifoldTV> sure

<JackManifoldTV> hit me

<TommyInnit> Do you ever…

<TommyInnit> Well, like, despite all the war, and the fighting, and the.. well… the mess. How much it sent ME a fucking mess.

<TommyInnit> You ever miss those days? The people? Or, well, the way they were? The way it all was?

<JackManifoldTV> sure

<JackManifoldTV> it was all a bit much at times

<JackManifoldTV> and i’m not sure i’d want to do it again

<JackManifoldTV> but I miss it sometimes

<JackManifoldTV> it was fun really

<TommyInnit> Yeah, I wouldn’t do it again either. haha

<TommyInnit> But…

<TommyInnit> I don’t know… I’ve tried to move on. my little cottage far away. My humble paradise. But that little thought trails into my mind…

<JackManifoldTV> i think it probably trails into all our minds, wherever we all are

<TommyInnit> Okay, phew.

<JackManifoldTV> but we all have to move on and find our own destiny some time

<TommyInnit> I’m glad it’s not just me

<JackManifoldTV> and chasing the win keeps me happy

<JackManifoldTV> i like who i am now!

<JackManifoldTV> probably more than who I was

<JackManifoldTV> but that doesn’t mean he was bad

<TommyInnit> You like being a gambler? Over an incompetent fight loser?

<TommyInnit> Well, I guess they’re not great options, are they

<TommyInnit> Sorry, that was harsh. I don’t see many people

<TommyInnit> Also, hey, you blew up my hotel

<TommyInnit> And me

<JackManifoldTV> one of them means I may win some day. i was never gonna win back then

<JackManifoldTV> oh yeah i did

<JackManifoldTV> i think i blew up everything actually

<JackManifoldTV> my fault

<TommyInnit> Luckily that wasn’t canon

<JackManifoldTV> Well no i’d say it was

<TommyInnit> I’ve still got my one life

<JackManifoldTV> I mean no one else is here anymore are they

<TommyInnit> And i intend to use it the best way I can

<JackManifoldTV> wdym??

<TommyInnit> Well, 1 canon life

<TommyInnit> I was left with 1 when everyone went away

<JackManifoldTV> yh yh yh but how do you wanna use it

<TommyInnit> You know…

<TommyInnit> I’ve got not a clue

<TommyInnit> But I’ll figure that out later

<JackManifoldTV> okay

<JackManifoldTV> you could come gamble with me

<TommyInnit> For now. I’ve got my cottage. My new pet! Awh, she’s adorable. Mareep. She’s a little sheep I caught.

<JackManifoldTV> I hear a big win is just around the corner

<TommyInnit> I don’t want to gamble Jack

<JackManifoldTV> oh

<JackManifoldTV> okay

<JackManifoldTV> more for me!!

<TommyInnit> Yep

<TommyInnit> But yeah you know… things are OK for me, Tubbo and his fucking bees I’ll see too every now and then

<JackManifoldTV> well this was nice

<TommyInnit> He’s doing pretty well for himself

<TommyInnit> Selling all that fucking honey

<JackManifoldTV> that’s good

<JackManifoldTV> i thought he exploded when i blew everything up

<TommyInnit> I guess being the president of L’Manberg teaches you a few logistical things, ey?

<JackManifoldTV> i can’t actually die i don’t think so i never know whether these things are bad for everyone else or not

<TommyInnit> Not that either of us would know anything about that

<TommyInnit> Well…

<JackManifoldTV> well..

<TommyInnit> But I haven’t seen anyone else, besides Tubbo

<TommyInnit> I think I like it that way for now.

<TommyInnit> The quiet life.

<JackManifoldTV> yeah you two are hard to seperate

<TommyInnit> TELL ME ABOUT IT

<JackManifoldTV> quiet is nice

<TommyInnit> It’s nice to see an old face though

<JackManifoldTV> this is nice

<TommyInnit> I know I said that before

<TommyInnit> but it really is

<TommyInnit> Well, look, I can’t stay too long. I need to feed Mareep.

<JackManifoldTV> yeah i got some places to see now i’m out

<TommyInnit> It’ll be off soon

<TommyInnit> Anything else you want to ask me?

<TommyInnit> I have no questions for you

<JackManifoldTV> haven’t left in a while should probably go check on some things

<JackManifoldTV> are you happy?

<JackManifoldTV> i guess that’s all i’d care to know.

<TommyInnit> Getting there.

<JackManifoldTV> nice

<TommyInnit> Good to see you, jack.

<JackManifoldTV> i’m glad for you

<TommyInnit> Hope you get the big win.

<JackManifoldTV> good to see you too tommy

<TommyInnit> Oh and hey

<JackManifoldTV> i will

<TommyInnit> Don’t let anyone buy this house

<JackManifoldTV> i won’t

<JackManifoldTV> when i win big there’ll be no money left HAHAHAHA

<TommyInnit> I might not see you again

<JackManifoldTV> that’s okay

<TommyInnit> But I hope I hear about it if you win big

<TommyInnit> So long J money

<JackManifoldTV> i can deal with that knowing you’re happy :)

<JackManifoldTV> bye bye big T

TommyInnit left the game

[meazalykov]

the neighbor

kika nazareth x reader

summary: you wanted a new friend in a new city

your heart pounds a little as you balance the plate of banana loaf and protein cookies in one hand, pausing at your neighbor’s door. 

the idea of making a new friend in this massive city feels like exactly the kind of thing that could make it feel like home, but as soon as the door opens, you almost forget what you’re here for.  

standing in front of you is one of the most attractive women you’ve ever seen, her dark eyes curious, framed by waves of her dark hair. she’s dressed casually, but there’s something so effortlessly confident about her that it leaves you momentarily speechless. 

she blinks, looking from you to the plate in your hands.

“um, sorry– hi!” you finally manage, a little flustered but quickly recovering. 

“i just moved in next door, and i thought i’d bring over a little welcome gift.”

her face lights up with a genuine smile, and the warmth in her expression melts away any nerves you might have had. 

“oh my goodness, that’s so nice of you! please, come in.”

you step inside, glancing around. the space is cozy and bright, with a few unpacked boxes pushed to the side, indicating she’s just settling in too. 

there’s a faint, comforting scent of vanilla and lavender in the air, and the place already feels warm, even if she hasn’t completely unpacked yet. she sets the plate on the counter and gestures toward a stool at the kitchen island.

“have a seat! i’ll get us something to drink,” she says, moving toward the fridge with a natural ease.

you sit, watching as she pours a couple of glasses of what looks like strawberry lemonade. as she hands you a glass, you take it with a grateful smile. 

“thanks. i’m y/n, by the way.”

“kika,” she replies, her smile widening. 

“so, y/n, what brings you to barcelona?”

you’re about to take a sip but pause, trying to put it into words. 

“honestly? i’ve always had this– um– love? for the city. i visited a few years ago, and it just… clicked. i knew i wanted to live here someday. i finished university a year early, so i figured, why not now?”

she nods, looking impressed. 

“that’s brave. i think a lot of people have dreams about starting fresh somewhere, but actually making it happen? that’s a whole different level. what do you do?”

“i’m a nurse. i just got a position at a clinic nearby,” you explain, and kika’s eyes widen slightly.

“a nurse? that’s amazing!” she exclaims, and you feel your cheeks warm at her enthusiasm.

you laugh, shrugging modestly. 

“it’s rewarding but intense. i’ve seen it all, from broken bones to kids swallowing the craziest things like handfuls of sand or batteries.”

she grins, shaking her head. 

“that’s the coolest thing, though. not everyone can handle that kind of job.”

“thanks,” you say, surprised by how easily you can talk to her. 

“what about you? what do you do?”

there’s a little sparkle in her eyes as she shrugs, looking like she’s about to downplay it. 

“i play football.”

“seriously?” your eyes light up. 

“that’s amazing!”

kika chuckles, clearly not used to people reacting this way. 

“yep. i just joined the club here.”

“oh, so you’re with a local team?” you ask, not fully understanding.

she leans forward, her voice dropping slightly as she smiles. 

“barcelona. i play for fc barcelona.”

you blink, the words not quite sinking in right away. 

“wait. are you serious?”

“dead serious,” she replies, laughing softly at your reaction. she pulls out her phone and flips through some pictures before holding one up, showing herself in a barcelona training kit at what looks like her first training session.

“that’s… that’s incredible,” you say, genuinely in awe.

“i mean, i’m not the biggest soccer fan, but i know enough to understand how huge that is.”

she chuckles, looking almost shy. “not a big football fan? i need to take you to a game someday– but yeah it’s a big deal, i guess,” she shrugs. 

“i think being a nurse might actually be cooler.”

“absolutely not,” you say, laughing. 

“you’re living the dream for so many people. besides, i only moved here a week ago, and you already sound more established than i am.”

she shrugs, clearly a little bashful but appreciative of your compliments. 

“still, you’re doing something meaningful every day. you know, helping people.”

“i guess we both are, in a way,” you say, realizing you feel surprisingly comfortable around her. it’s only been a few minutes, yet you feel like you could stay here chatting with her all day.

you look around her apartment, noticing the soccer cleats on a shoe rack near the open closet door. they’re neatly placed next to a few pairs of sneakers, and you can’t help but think how fitting it is. 

almost every girl in europe played football if they weren’t buried in university work, you figured, so it hadn’t been a huge surprise to hear she played. still, learning she’s actually a professional? that’s something else.

“do you live alone here?” kika asks, breaking the silence.

you nod. 

“yeah, just me. it’s a bit quiet sometimes, but being in a big city… i don’t know. it just felt right.”

she leans forward, her eyes softening. 

“barcelona can be a little intimidating at first, but i think you’re going to love it here. especially if we can keep having hangouts like this.”

“same here,” you say, feeling a warm buzz of excitement. 

“i was kind of hoping i’d find someone cool in the building.”

she laughs, the sound filling the space with a kind of brightness. 

“well, looks like you got lucky then,” she teases, nudging your arm lightly.

before you know it, your phone buzzes with an alarm, snapping you out of the moment. it’s your reminder to start getting ready for the gym, and you glance down with a sigh, realizing you have to go.

“i’d better head out,” you say, standing up reluctantly.

kika follows you to the door, and just as you’re about to leave, she surprises you with a warm hug. it catches you off guard, but you hug her back, feeling a little spark in the embrace.

as you pull back, she looks at you with a hopeful smile. 

“hey, would you maybe want to grab lunch together? say, wednesday?”

“wednesday sounds perfect,” you say, feeling that warm buzz in your chest again. 

“and, you know, if you ever need anything, just knock on my door.”

“you got it,” she says, grinning. “see you wednesday.”

you give her arm a light squeeze, a soft “see you,” before stepping out into the hallway. 

masterlist

[rafeswhre]

orrrr rafe having to deal with a tipsy reader but lowkey being overwhelmed at the whole situation cuz she’s being so lovey dovey and clingy but they’re not dating? 😭

rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol, suggestive comments

a/n: this is my first time posting i’m so scared loll hope you like it, thanks for sending it🫶🏼 btw english isn’t my first language, let me know any mistakes.

“I don’t know, Top!” You laughed loudly while talking to Topper, who, to be honest, wasn’t actually funny. It was probably just the number of drinks you’d already had.

“Girl, you’re tipsy!” Topper laughed at you while sipping from his whiskey glass.

“I’m not.” You rolled your eyes and tried to take another shot—at least, you tried.

“You’re done.” Rafe took the shot from your hand and moved it away from you. By the way, who knows where he had come from; you hadn’t seen him since the party started.

“What do you mean I’m done? I’m just starting.” You gave the guy in front of you a funny look.

“I mean you’re done, princess. Let’s go.” Rafe took your arm and started guiding you through the crowd.

“Baby, you’re soooo boring.” You pouted at him once you arrived in the parking lot.

“Baby?” He raised his eyebrows, looking at you.

“What’s wrong? You call me princess all the damn time, I don’t say shit to ya, big boy.” You rolled your eyes.

“Watch that mouth of yours.” He leaned back against his car.

“Why are you so grumpy all the time?” You slowly got closer to him, resting your hands on his shoulders and giving them a little squeeze.

Rafe looked closely at your hands moving down his arms. “I’m not grumpy all the time.”

“I’m not grumpy all the time.” You imitated him in a funny voice and burst out laughing before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “’Course you are.” You whispered in his ear.

Rafe cleared his throat and looked everywhere but at your eyes. “Come on, let’s get you home.” He tried to escape your little grip.

“I don’t wanna go home, Ray!” You pouted again. “Let’s stay here; we could have so much fun! More fun than we’d have in your car, let me tell ya.”

“Why are you so complicated?” He rolled his eyes.

“Why are you so boring?” You teased him, poking his arms. “Although I can think of ways to have fun in your car too.” You got close to him, giving him a significant look.

“Stop saying stuff like that.” He opened his eyes wide, feeling out of place.

“Are you freaking out, Rafey?” you asked, teasing.

“Don’t call me that.” He frowned.

“Why not? That’s what all your bitches call you.”

“No! Just- just get in the car, kay?” He opened the passenger door so you could get in.

“We adore a gentleman.” You said as you climbed into the car. He closed the door and walked around the car to get into the driver’s seat.

The atmosphere filled with an overwhelming silence; Rafe hadn’t even started the car. You felt a little guilty.

While it was true that you weren’t entirely sober, you weren’t drunk either. You knew what you were doing; it was just that the bit of alcohol had given you the confidence to tell him things you wouldn’t say when fully sober.

“Rafe?” you asked nervously.

“Mmh?” He didn’t even look at you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—I know we’re friends; I didn’t mean to make you feel bad—” Suddenly, you felt like the alcohol in your body had disappeared.

“Hey, hey.” He looked at you. “It’s alright, it’s not that, kay?” He buried his head in his hands.

“So? What is it?” You tilted your head to the side, confused.

He sighed. “You know, all your attitudes and shit.” He waved his hand in the air, trying to make you understand. “You’re getting all touchy and clingy.”

“Oh—” You looked away.

“No, no, hey.” He gently took your face and made you look at him. “Look at me, baby. It’s not a bad thing; it’s alright—it’s just—you’re kinda cold all the time. I’ve never seen you this way, it freaked me out.”

“You’ve never been with a tipsy girl?” You giggled.

“Nah, yeah, I have. I said I’ve never seen you this way. It’s different.” He turned on the car.

“What do you mean? Why would it be?”

He turned on the radio.

“Are you ignoring me, Rafe?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” You frowned.

“Nah, I’m not.” He said while steering with one hand on the wheel.

You sighed and rolled your eyes.

[ilyrafe]

𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒏 ✧ 𝒓. 𝒄. | 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒘𝒐

pairing: hitman!rafe cameron x f!reader

warnings: none :)

word count: 1k

part one

taglist: @starkeyvhs @toterry @httpsdrewstarkey @gillybear17 @baby19sthings @zya8tracks

a/n: this is such a shitty chapter but please bear with me i had such a terrible creative block!!! god i hate it here

a stroke of luck.

when joshua was found, both rafe and y/n were far. well, rafe wasn’t that far, but she had really disappeared. the next day, rafe still wanted to send a message to her and let her know that everything was done, but that number didn’t exist anymore.

as a precaution, rafe was always around, wanting to know if there was any suspicion about joshua’s death, but apparently, everyone there knew that he was “a time bomb about to explode”. the neighbors saw y/n leaving with all of her belongings, so they assumed that he couldn’t take it and took his own life.

“i knew one of them would end up dead,” an older woman told a friend, and rafe paid attention. “and i prayed it wouldn’t be her, because she was a good person. he would get drunk and when she would say she’d leave, he’d threaten to kill her and then himself. i’ve heard their arguments!”

in the end, y/n received a good amount of life insurance for still being legally married to him. good for her.

and life went on, as it would. as it should.

rafe continued his infamous business of killing for money, and whenever someone contacted him, he was disappointed that it wasn’t her. as much as he didn’t want to admit, he always caught himself thinking about her and wondering how she was doing, if she was okay.

rafe has seen grotesque scenes that no longer bother him, but imagining joshua putting his dirty hands around her neck, or scaring her makes his blood boil, because he’s done it before with his own sister, and that’s his biggest regret. if there’s a heaven and a hell, rafe knows very well where he’s going, and he’s already come to terms with it, but one thing he’ll never do again in his life is to be violent towards another woman - any woman.

even a hitman needs to have some morals.

the fear in sarah’s eyes still disturbs him. when he goes to sleep, that’s all he dreams of. he relives the moment all night long, and then he drinks to forget it, but it doesn’t help - the image of him nearly killing his own blood is too much.

when he remembers that day at the diner, he can’t get the image of her out of his head - she looked so small, so defeated. deep down, rafe knows all of the answers to the questions he asks himself. he’s smarter than he gives himself credit for.

(...)

the life of a hitman can actually be very lonely, something rafe still struggles to deal with. every once in a while he goes for a walk in the park when his mind is going places he doesn’t want to go.

an autumn afternoon in chicago is like a scene from a painting, where nature’s colors are in their full, fiery splendor. as he steps outside, the air is crisp but not too cold, just enough to warrant a light jacket, with the occasional breeze that carries the earthy scent of fallen leaves. the city’s famous skyline stretches against a sky that shifts between deep blue and soft gray, as the sun begins its descent, casting golden light over everything.

he’s trying so hard to see beauty in things, to keep himself afloat. rafe is numb. not even the hardest drug can make him feel anything. sometimes he does admire the nature around him, and to see the blue of the sky, in its immensity, makes him realize that, in a good way, none of this is real. none of this means anything.

we are all just cells, wandering around.

the sounds of the city seem a little softer in the fall, as people slow down to take in the beauty around them. a gentle hum of traffic can be heard in the distance, while the occasional laughter of children playing outside or the sound of a distant train passing through the city adds to the ambiance.

rafe has always had a soft spot for children. well, not exactly children, but what they represent. a kind of purity that seems untouched by the complexities and burdens of the adult world. it’s in the way they see the world with wide-eyed wonder, where everything is new and full of possibility. their joy is spontaneous, like a burst of laughter that rings out without reason, simply because they are in the moment. their innocence is also in their ability to feel deeply, yet let go just as easily. they live in the present, their hearts and minds unburdened by the weight of regret or worry. oh, and their unwavering belief in the goodness of the world. that sense of trust in the world, in people, in their own ability to be loved and to love in return, is a beautiful, fragile thing, one that people often lose or forget as they grow older (rafe knows it better than anyone else), but can still glimpse in the eyes of a child.

he would give anything to feel that way again.

whenever he remembers his childhood, rafe feels a sense of regret, an overwhelming desire to find a way to go back in time. oh, if only he could. be a child with no real worries. run through the freshly mowed grass, stumble and fall, and be comforted by his mother.

perhaps his luck has run out. he’s managed to leave a life of crime behind and come out of it mostly unscathed, he can’t just think that he can expect to find love - any type of love - in the same lifetime.

while walking through the park, rafe notices a young woman sitting on the grass, enjoying an ice cream. she seems carefree, just in the moment, observing everything around her. as he walks, he manages to get closer to her and... oh my god.

it’s her.

it’s her.

with each step taken towards her, rafe feels his heart beat faster. a mix of anxiety and excitement for finally having found her, after a year.

he stops right next to her, with his hands on the front pockets of his jacket, and waits until she notices his presence. when she does, she looks up, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“hi.”

“oh, my god. cameron?!”

i'd love to know your thoughts!!!

[violenteconomics]

remember this post i made about ace and epel (and eventually the other freshmen) pranking their upperclassmen?

yeah, so, here’s an idea for a significantly less funny prequel:

the first-years actually met their housewardens as kids, where they got very attached to one another, but absolutely none of them remember this. 

i’ve got a drabble written for riddle, ace, and deuce, but for the others, i’m completely lost, lol.

^

(warning: mentions of child abuse)

^

4-year-old ace trappola, a pint-sized brat who loses a ball in dr rosehearts’s backyard. since dr rosehearts has an extremely sour reputation around town for being impossible to be polite with, ace decides it’s not worth the patience it’ll take to knock on her door. so instead, he climbs her fence to retrieve it.

that’s when he notices the boy sitting by the windowsill, with a thousand books stacked all around him, looking very intrigued at the book in his hands. ace has never seen someone so engrossed with a book that doesn’t even have a picture on the cover, and having absolutely no filter, even at that age, he simply walks up to him and asks what he’s doing.

at first, riddle tries to shoo him away, knowing how his mother will react when she finds out there’s a random kid stepping on her perfectly-cut grass. eventually, though, ace’s childish stubbornness wins out, and riddle tells him about the history book he’s reading.

[ace is alice and riddle is alice’s sister in this scenario in case you don’t get the reference, they make me insane, okay—]

everyday, ace comes back to the windowsill at the same time (at riddle’s request, because he only has so much independent study time) just to listen to him. everyday, he says that it’s stupid, boring, and he can’t believe riddle actually reads book without pictures. everyday, he comes back to sit under riddle’s windowsill and listen to him go on about food chemistry.

but then dr rosehearts finds out.

ace doesn’t really know what happens after she showed up to their doorstep, looking down on him like he was a bug underneath her heeled feet, but next thing he knows, his dad’s telling him and brother that they’re moving to a different town. he tells ace that their house just isn’t pretty enough, but ace is young— not stupid.

(in the future, whenever ace scores high on a test, and riddle will smile and tell him he’s proud of him. every single time, it leaves a bad taste in his mouth for reasons ace can’t explain.)

^

5-year-old deuce spade only knows ace as “the kid who moved out”, but through some wicked twist of fate, he’s the next person to lose something in dr roseheart’s backyard.

deuce’s mom actually used to work for dr rosehearts as her secretary, but deuce doesn’t really like her, because she used to make his mom work long hours with little pay in return. his mom lived in dr rosehearts’s medical practice more than she actually lived in the crappy apartment they could barely afford. he was so glad when she quit.

but unfortunately, dr rosehearts’s house is right next to the park, and losing balls in her garden is unfortunately very common for most kids in the neighborhood. and since deuce really doesn’t want to talk to her, he jumps over her fence instead.

this time, riddle’s the one who notices him.

riddle’s missing ace a lot (he never found out why he stopped coming around), so to fill the hole in his heart, he invited deuce over. sheepishly, deuce walks over and lets riddle tell him about the book on agricultural trade he’s been reading. deuce doesn’t quite get it as fast as ace did, but unlike ace, he’s patient and hard-working and oh-so earnest in his attempts to understand.

of course, dr rosehearts isn’t going to help this relationship in the slightest. a few weeks later, she waits for deuce right outside the fence, before dragging him off once he’s out of riddle’s view. she mocks his attempts at trying to learn something that’s clearly above his mental capacity, for trying to be someone above his station, for knowing the rules and being too stupid to stick to them.

(“What sort of pitiful education have you received, that you cannot follow such simple rules?”)

when she delivers deuce back to his house, his mother says nothing. when she tells him they’re moving to a bigger house on the complete other side of the queendom, deuce doesn’t argue.

(deuce couldn’t tell you why doing so bad in school frustrated him to the point of becoming a delinquent. he really couldn't.)

[charmac]

Opinions on Charlie woobification? Also, do you think the fandom woobifies Dennis (too much)?

A few people have sent me asks about my thoughts on Dennis being woobified in the fandom and I’ve failed to answer them (sorry). Not for lack of interest on the subject, it’s just hard to answer. I think, though, answering this Charlie question in the same ask might make it easier to explain my thoughts on this.

When we talk about the fandom we’re generally talking about the people here, a couple hundred people on Twitter, maybe some Instagram stans(?) and tend to ignore the million (1,000,000)+ people on the subReddit and the huge chunk of people on Facebook and casual Twitter who are constantly, continually pushing a narrative that these characters have no depth, and thus their characterisation is what we see on the surface and nothing more. I think the one time it’s probably important not to ignore those people as fans of the show is when it comes to woobification.

Because at a surface level, the people who are consuming this show as a comedy and making posts that exhibit their takes/opinions on these characters to the majority of people portray the characters very simply: Charlie is an idiot and the best member of the Gang, in every sense of the word, and Dennis is a mere representation of toxic masculinity to a psychopathic degree. And those opinions are the loud majority.

So any discussion in our minority section of the fandom that woobifies Charlie or Dennis operates within and on top of the general narrative of the public perception (“face value”) of the characters. Woobification of Charlie, then, almost always further infantilises the majority of his traits to contribute to the idea that he’s not a bad guy and doesn’t deserve the position he’s in in life, while woobification of Dennis mostly works to counteract the idea that he’s a cold-blooded psychopath.

In a way, I think you have to woobify Dennis to a degree in order to properly understand his character (and Glenn makes that clear). Do some people take it too far? When it gets into the realm of genuinely somehow believing he’s not a bad person, absolutely, but in over a decade of Sunnyblr posts, I think I’ve seen that conclusion once, maybe twice. I really don’t think any post that’s diving into how Dennis' actions reflect his insecurities and trauma is ever speaking ignorant of the rest of his character, and that normally seems clear to the majority of people because rarely, if ever, does a dive into Dennis woobification cause fans to understand the character worse than they understood him at face value.

Whereas, with Charlie, you constantly do see this. Posts and threads and fights between fans arguing up and down that Charlie is better than the rest of them: he’s the smartest, actually, he means to do good, he shouldn’t be lumped in with the rest of them as sexual predators... People in this fandom genuinely argue that you are a *better person* if you’re a Charlie stan, that Charlie ships are softer, more moral, than toxic Dennis ships. The result of Charlie woobification seems to often make people less media literate about the character (and the show as a whole if we’re being real) than they would be if they just watched at face value.

They’re all morally despicable characters.

TL;DR: Due to the face value perceptions of the characters, woobification is an almost necessary tool for better exploring and understanding Dennis under his surface, while it really only exacerbates an annoying surface-level understanding of Charlie

[commanderyes]

Hey folks

My head is full of storms right now so thought I’d yell a little before I go back to the aether

Hatred and ignorance triumphed this week. There’s no mincing it. No matter how much some of us pointed, and pleaded, and cried out and shook shoulders, the monsters still won. They’ve won in ways we never thought we’d ever see in our lifetimes, and the skies are only gonna get darker and darker from here on out.

I’ve spent these last days trying to comfort so many of my friends, because they are terrified of what’s to come. Because their livelihoods are at risk. Because their LIVES are at risk.

I’ve had to hear them say they are so close to end it all.

And as someone that doesn’t actually live in America I can’t even begin to describe how helpless I feel. To think that I have no power to do anything but listen and encourage and sometimes throw money at them. And then there’s that feeling in the back of my head that even telling them to not give up is nothing but hollow platitudes, -because- I do not live there. Because I have the luxury to “unplug” from all of this. That it’s not my place to speak about not giving up because it’s not -my- ass on the line

But what else am I supposed to do?

I’ve heard friends say the beliefs that helped them pull forward until now have been shattered. I’ve seen people on the internet swear they’re only gonna care for themselves and their families from now on, and the rest can burn for all they care. And I can’t say I don’t feel where they’re coming from. So many of us want to think people can be better. We want to think humans are fundamentally good. I’ve spent six years making fanfic doodles about why we should keep fighting for a world that over and over refuses to be rescued. And now I find myself walking out during breaks at work and just staring at the sky

Why indeed

Because if we give in, if we decide to stop caring entirely, then their victory over us will be absolute.

Because if we are to brave this ocean of blood and shit all over again we are going to do it together. Cling to everyone in your life that matters, cling to love and kindness, cling to happiness, cling to SPITE if that’s what it takes, and then hold on to it with all your fingers and toes and teeth, because no matter how relentlessly ugly it gets, there are still good things in this world, there are good people willing to care and try, and that is worth waking up every morning for, that is the world that needs you in it.

As others have said before, for every moment where we think “It’s So Over” there eventually comes a “We’re So Back”.

If you’re a woman, or poc, or LGBTQ+, or all at once, if you’re any minority whatsoever, or you’re just someone trying to fight the good fight; it’s going to be terrible out there, and that you have to keep on fighting harder than you’ve ever fought before is the cruelest goddamn thing. But even so, please, you have to try. You have to care. You have to endure. You have to stay strong. You have to love yourself.

Take all the time you need to grieve and rest and lick your wounds, and then get back up and continue the fight. Even if the skies get darker, the sun is still out there. Tomorrow is another day.

You are going to make it through this. You are going to outlive the monsters and see the end. You are going to smile and laugh and love again. You are going to survive this, and you are going to live

You get to live.

[hannahssimblr]

Winter. 

When did this happen? Was I looking away for long enough for the season to change without my notice? I haven’t spent enough time here watching time, from this old velvet seat by the window that overlooks brutalist blocks, each building identical to the next. These utilitarian slabs might stand like this, grey cubes jutting from the asphalt, for five hundred years. I’m here for five months now. Thoroughly settled, used to this place, this apartment with the tarry flavour of cigarettes clinging to the furniture the landlady never took away. 

Jonas says she’s strange, this woman who has left all of her old things for us to live around. Her lamps, with sun-faded shades, her record collection, the chenille bedspreads stuffed into a closet, and the ancient television I replaced the day after I landed. I’ve never met her. Sometimes, I slip a dusty bottle from her wine rack in the cellar and serve it to my friends at dinner. Surely, by the time she ever notices, I’ll be long gone.

Through the vignette of condensation, the snow drifts, white flecks, across the beam of the streetlights. Kreuzberg is quiet. Sunday. 

I refocus my eyes to look into my face, a mirror reflection in the black window. I look older, perhaps, than in the photographs Jen posted to me in September, the ones from the summer, where the light is hazy and our noses are sun blushed, from that time that feels like another lifetime already, or like fiction. At Christmas, I returned to Ireland, and it rained for two weeks without stopping, and it felt something more like reality.

My grandmother told me that my hair was straggly, and she’s right. It’s been too long since I’ve cut it, but the ends of my hair spent the summer with me. Even though my skin cells have replaced themselves, the parts of my hair touching the collar of my coat and curling around my ears hold the memories that the rest of me is slowly losing. 

I haven’t stayed in touch with my friends from there as much as I would have liked. These days are busy, with friends, with college. I draw and paint more than I ever have, lashing out piece after piece, sketchbook after sketchbook, building a tower upon the desk in my cold little bedroom, though the women in my pieces don’t have green eyes anymore. Now, I choose blue.

The door buzzes, and I stand to answer it. 

My finger on the button, “Yeah?”

“Hurry! Open up, it’s fucking cold.”

I buzz her in, then stand waiting by the open door as she ascends the stairway. Three floors. I hear her the whole way, the snap of boot heels against tile. There’s an elevator in her building, and I feel acutely guilty about my building’s lack of one, despite being entirely powerless to do anything about it, as I am an art student, not an engineer, and was not yet actually born during its construction. 

She appears on the landing, shivering, with snowflakes clinging to her hair, and sitting on the structured shoulders of her trench coat. 

“Ugh, oh God, those stairs. I hate them.” She says. She unzips her boot and tosses onto the pile of shoes next to the door, and I notice immediately that she’s barefoot, toes balanced on the tiles like a ballerina. 

“You didn’t wear socks?”

She’s not wearing tights either. Her long, pale legs poke, completely exposed beneath the beige gabardine. 

“Did you take the U-Bahn like this? It must be five below zero.”

Her second boot hits the tile with a clatter, and she backs me into my apartment. As the door clicks shut, she pulls on the tie of her coat.

She’s wearing nothing but black lingerie. 

“Ah,” I am enlightened. This now makes perfect sense to me, in much the same way it does to her. Astrid has a way of bringing me around to her way of thinking. 

This was actually an excellent idea. 

“I was bored,” she says, which makes sense too. She is always bored. This is why she does what she’s seen people do in films. It’s a way to keep herself entertained. An unwelcome thought flashes into my mind, as I wonder if she has done this specific thing for previous boyfriends. I hop off that path. With Astrid, it is important to dwell only upon the present. Anything before this, now, me, us, is nothing worth worrying about. 

I slip my hands under her coat, onto the soft, downy velvet of her skin. 

“Nice and warm,” she murmurs. 

“Astrid, you shouldn’t have gone out like this.”

“It was only thirty minutes.”

“I know, but,” Her hands are freezing between mine as I heat them with my breath. “It’s too cold.” I’ll have to give her something of mine to wear when she goes home, but begin to worry that nothing is clean. I have been avoiding taking my dirty clothes to the basement since I flew back in ten days ago, too cowardly to face the seizing cold of the communal laundry room and that ever present leak in the ceiling surely turned to an icicle by now. 

These are not sexy thoughts. 

It’s like she can tell just by looking at me. “The point is, you will heat me up,” she says, a bit slowly, like I’m thick.

I don’t want to be the guy that lacks spontaneity. That would make me anxious. She pulls her hands from mine and pouts at me, as though at a little dog. “Look at you, you’re so nice.”

It’s not intended as a compliment, and I understand I should be doing something a bit wilder, like, I don’t know, taking my own clothes off already. Why on earth haven’t I started to do that?

Ah, because I am nice. 

“Okay, fuck your hands then. They can freeze.” Often, jokes are a mistake around Astrid. She rarely laughs at them. In fact, she rarely smiles at all, and only indulges us when she feels like doing it. It’s never to be polite. She knows her own mind. I’m obsessed with her. 

I’m obsessed to an ever greater extent now, because, once again, she’s not laughing. She’s not trying to please me. It’s me, always, trying to please her instead. I tug on her coat and it pools to the floor, then I kiss her. 

“God, I love you.” 

I murmur it, the truth. 

I knew it the third or fourth night we spent together, in November, as the last stubborn leaves clung to the branches. She wasn’t like anybody I had ever met before. She reminded me of nobody, and that was the point. 

I felt it, that weakness, my molten insides, and the deep fear of it in the early hours of one morning as she lay on the sheets with moonlight spilling across her back. She has a tattoo between her shoulder blades of a heart pierced by three daggers. She says it’s from a tarot card, and she was younger and stupider when she got it. That night, as she slept, I uncovered some kind of symbolism in it that moved me, but in the morning light I had forgotten all the profound thoughts I’d come up with except one: That I loved her. It surprised me. I ignored the tiny pang of sadness I felt, like mourning for a part of my life that was already long gone. It was useless to miss it.

I chose Astrid instead. 

I choose her now, love her in the same way I kiss her and touch her and fuck her, by doing what she wants me to do. It’s not a submissive situation. I’m not into that stuff. I am a man clocking in and doing as he's asked, thoroughly, diligently, excelling at his job. Eager to please. Employee of the month.

“Will you put your hand on my throat?” She breathes. Beneath me, her hands claw the bedsheets. 

Yes, I think. That would be nice. 

I am interested to discover that I like it too. I don’t think the other girls I’ve slept with would have let me try the things that Astrid does. They couldn’t picture themselves doing it, I’m sure, and neither could I. Back then I didn’t think about sex the way I do now, but Berlin has been bringing it out in me. 

She comes first. That’s mandatory. Then afterwards, when I have, and thoughts return to my brain, I’ll lay here, haunted by the years I didn’t know about this golden rule, and all the time that I thought I was good at sex but wasn’t. Dwelling on the disappointment I brought upon women and girls will make me spiral a bit, I’ll feel it rising, but I’ll feel better when I fuck Astrid again, in some new, fascinating position, and she’ll tell me I’m pretty good, in fact.

She’ll be loud enough about it that Klaus from downstairs may complain, and point out that such volume levels are forbidden on Sundays. He’ll threaten to raise it with the building management, so I’ll bring up the fact I know it was he who put cat food containers in the recycling bin. Neither of us will do anything, and the cycle will repeat until one of us moves or dies.

“Klaus is a miserable, jealous old fool,” Astrid says. “He probably doesn’t have sex, so he’s furious at people who do. I think it’s basic psychology.”

“He lives with his wife, you know.”

“Oh, that doesn’t mean he’s having sex. Married people don’t do it. Or at least hardly ever. That’s why I’ll never be tied down like that.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“You think Mr and Mrs Klaus are fucking like rabbits down there?”

I scrunch up my face. “I’ve never heard them. Maybe they do it very quietly while I’m out of the apartment.”

“They never do. I bet they hate one another. Surely they sleep in separate rooms and only speak when they have to.” Astrid invents this story with glee. She is describing what is to her an indisputable fact of life. Her parents, and her mother’s relationship with her stepfather, too. I think she believed these things about marriage before meeting me, but the confirmation that my parents are the same has solidified it. 

“I don’t like to think about things in such a black and white way,” I say, and hold my palm against hers. Her fingers are long and slender. “Just because a lot of marriages are bad, doesn’t mean they’re all doomed. I believe some people are happy.”

“Trapped,” she whispers. “Like canaries in a cage. Maybe they don’t know any better.”

“If I was married, it’d be because I loved that person completely. I wouldn’t do it unless I was sure, and if I loved someone that much, I think I’d still have sex all the time. I can’t really picture that changing. When would I ever not be doing it, you know?”

She hums gently. “So you would never join a monastery.”

“Ugh.”

“And if you married me, you’d want me like this forever?”

This isn’t a serious question about marriage. That would be ridiculous. This is a test for me to pass, and am about to, with flying colours.  

“Yeah, you’re so appealing in every way. I can’t imagine not being completely crazy about you forever.”

“You definitely wouldn’t get over me if I left you.”

“Nah, probably not. In my grief, I might even refuse to sign the divorce papers or some shit.”

She nods, satisfied, and rests her head on my chest. It slots nicely beneath my chin. “I want to go to sleep,” she says.

“Alright, me too.”

I switch off the light and listen to the pitter patter of the snow on the window, drifting slowly away with it.

Astrid shifts, restless. 

“Tomorrow, I have a lecture at eight.”

“Unlucky.”

“I don’t have any clothes.”

“Ah, yeah, probably because of the lingerie stunt.”

A pout. “It was a gift for you.”

“And I loved it. I can find you something to wear.”

“To my class? Your clothes? I’ll look ridiculous. Can you get me a taxi to my house so I can change?”

“Yeah, of course. If you wear my clothes in the taxi.”

“I won’t be naked under my coat in front of a strange man, Jude.”

“Okay. Good. I’ll arrange a taxi, then.”

“That’s sweet of you.” She adjusts her position again, and the subtle contact of our bodies sets off a chain of sensation. I rake my nails lightly over her back, and she shudders. 

“You’re so pretty,” I say. “Did you know that?” I know she does, but I like the smug way she always says yes. 

“It’s okay if I leave my underwear here?”

“If you want to, yeah. Why? Do you think I wanted to carry it around in my pocket or something?”

“So you can wash it for me.”

“Yeah,” I press my lips to the back of her hand. “I’ve been meaning to go to the laundry basement for too long now. I’ll just add them to the pile.”

“No, you need to hand-wash them. They’re made of lace.”

“Oh right. So like, in the sink, or something.”

“I thought you might have known that.”

“Nah, see, in Dublin, we had a cleaner who washed all of my lace underwear for me.”

“Mm…”

“... That was a joke about the lace underwear. We did actually have a cleaner, though.”

“You’ll take care of it? They were quite expensive. It’s not as though I have a lot of that kind, so if it got ruined…”

“I will.”

She slips a hand into my hair and seeks my lips in the dark. She kisses me with such affection that I melt into her. “I love you, Jude. Thank you.”

“I love you too.”

A low chuckle as I bite her earlobe. “You really would never be a monk, would you?”

“Oh, my God. The thought makes me sick.”

I roll over her, and we give Klaus one more thing to complain about.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[heyheydidjaknow]

After a very long week of diving headfirst into this fandom I think it’s only right that the champagne bottle we smash into this here ship is a four thousand word Chuuya x reader. Here’s to what I’m sure will be another few years of this, everyone; hope everyone is down.

Candies

He was glaring at you.

You had no idea when he got on the train. You did not care enough to wonder. What you knew was that he— the man in the hat on the opposite side of the train car— had been looking at you for the past three stops, and while you were fairly certain that you had no idea who he was, you were almost as certain that whoever he thought you were had another thing coming from how intensely he was watching you. Sure, he had the decency to look embarrassed by his staring, but that in no way stopped him from looking at you like you had something to apologize for. It was disconcerting. It was borderline creepy. But neither of you moved, because it was a train, and the two of you would not see each other again anyway.

The train slowed to a stop. Most people filed off. You did not. Neither did the man. You checked your watch, head falling back as you considered the pros and cons of waiting for the next train. You would have to eat dinner late, but you would not have to wonder why exactly he seemed to hate you this much for nothing.

You heard the rustling of clothing next to you. “Excuse me.”

You opened your eyes to the man. You took him in, identified any features that might be helpful for a police report: cold eyes, reddish hair, too many layers. Pretty, but not reassuring. You pulled your headphones off, fearing the worst. “May I help you?”

A pause.

You smiled tentatively. “Is something wrong?”

“I’ll give you five hundred thousand yen if you’ll go out with me.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

Reality seemed to catch up with him. “Shit. Uh.” He pulled his hat off, fiddling with the brim as he lowered his eyes. “Is that too little? I can go higher.”

“Do you think I’m a hooker?”

“Huh?”

You leaned away from him a bit. “What kind of thing is that to ask someone? ‘What’s your price?’ Seriously?”

The realization seemed to strike him like a baseball bat to the head. He immediately backpedaled. “That’s not— shit, I mean, that’s not what I meant to—“ he stammered. “I— no, I didn’t mean anything like that!”

“Yeah?” You raised your eyebrows. “That work for most people, asking them what they charge for a night? For fuck’s sake, man.”

“Hey!” He sat up, defensive. “I never said I wanted to take you home!”

You crossed your arms. “Then what exactly are you trying to do?”

“Ask you on a date!”

“You sure have a funny way of doing it.”

He huffed, face red. “Look,” he grumbled, “I don’t ask many people on dates; I’m trying my best here.”

“You could just ask me,” you pointed out. “You could ask me in a way that doesn’t involve offering me money.”

He rolled his eyes, seemingly— and audaciously— annoyed. “I can’t just walk up to a stranger and ask them on a date. Why would you go? You don’t know me; what if I’m a creep? How do you know if I’m worth the time?”

An incredulous smile crept onto your lips. “And you thought that offering me money would make you seem less creepy?”

“At least then you have a reason to show up! At least then I have a financial interest in showing you a good time!” He buried his face in his hands. “It took me a while to get this far and my stop is next and I do not have the time nor ability to actually woo you.”

The absurdity of this whole situation— the sight of an extravagantly dressed pretty boy bemoaning his romantic failings— was starting to get to you. “This all seems like a lot for someone you just met.”

He sat up quickly, steam practically pouring from his ears. “Well,” he explained seemingly in an attempt to regain some composure, “I may not know you yet, but I know that I’ve never seen anyone who looks as good as you do, and we’re on a train; I may never get the chance to see you again if I don’t do something right this second.”

You grinned. “Really?”

“Really. I am fucking this up.”

“A bit,” you agreed. “But you’re bringing it back around, calling me hot.”

He brightened. “I am?”

You shrugged. “More or less, yeah.”

His hands were shaking. You wondered how long they had been doing that. “Well,” he mumbled, “does that mean your answer isn’t a hard no?”

You leaned back in your seat. “I can be convinced,” you said. “Try again.”

He cleared his throat. “Hello.” He made eye contact with you again, the sharpness you had assumed was being weaponized against you seemingly inherent in his gaze. You tried, for a moment, to make out what color his eyes were, but the answer seemed to elude you. “My name is Nakahara Chuuya.”

“Hello, Nakahara Chuuya.” You crossed your legs. “See, this is better. Keep going.”

He gave you a confused look. You liked him, you decided. “Well,” he continued, disgruntled, “I couldn’t help but notice you. You’re easy to see.”

“Interesting word choice, but alright.”

He shot you a look. “You’re nice to look at. Is that better?”

Your smile softened. “Much. Keep going.”

He looked down at his hat. “I was wondering,” he continued, “if you were already spoken for.”

You snorted. “Spoken for?”

“Single,” he amended, irritated. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You stretched out your legs in front of you, thoroughly enjoying this. “I am both single and without boyfriend,” you assured him.

He nodded sternly. “Then, can I take you out? On a date?”

You considered it for a moment. “Yeah, sure.”

He blinked. “Really?”

“Really.” You leaned back in your seat. “You’re cute, and I don’t think you’ll murder me, and those are my two big requirements, so.”

He chuckled. “High bars. No wonder you’re single.”

“What can I say? I’m hard to please.” You dug around in your coat for a pen, holding your palm up towards you. “What’s your number?”

The redhead paused. “I don’t have a number right now,” he said. “I’m having trouble with my provider. I can give you a time and place, though.” He held out a gloved hand. “May I?”

You gave him the pen and your bare hand. Quickly, he scribbled down an address (someplace in Yokohama), a date (the next Saturday) and a time (six o’clock). As he finished, the train came to a halt at the platform, doors opening with a quiet hiss.

Nakahara Chuuya stood up, fixing his pork pie hat securely atop his head before straightening out his clothes and giving you a stiff nod. “I will see you then,” he promised. “If you’re late by more than fifteen minutes, I’ll assume you stood me up.”

You gave the strange man a smile. “I’ll come early, then.”

He averted his eyes. “Thank you.” And with that, he left you on the train with a date, a time, and a great deal of confusion.

Foolishly, you showed up. You lived neither in nor near Yokohama. Getting to the address the man had given you— which he wrote with poor penmanship— took you some time too. You went through the trouble of dressing as well as he had been the day you met him— which was more formal than you would typically be for a first date with a stranger you met on a train— and went so far as to plan to be there fifteen minutes early. You had no idea why you were so interested in the man. You had no inclination as to what possessed you to show up to meet a stranger in the first place; after all, his assumption that you might think of him as some sort of predator would have been a reasonable one to make. But you had an inarticulable feeling that told you that this meeting would be worth your time.

Or you just thought he was pretty. You weren’t sure which it was.

The address he had given you brought you to a small restaurant close to the Tsurumi river which, if its sign was to be believed, primarily dealt in soba. Despite your planning, you arrived a mere five minutes early instead of fifteen which, in your defense, was still early, but apparently not so early that your date did not beat you there. As you approached him, a look of bewilderment briefly crossed his face.

“Damn,” you joked. “I thought I’d get here first.”

He looked over your shoulder. “You came,” he said, sounding surprised.

“I did,” you confirmed.

“Alone.”

“I was unaware I was meant to bring a plus one on a date.”

“No, I just mean—“ He stopped himself. “Whatever. I’m glad you came.”

You held your hands behind your back. “So am I, though I’m feeling a bit self conscious now.” You looked down at your clothes, then back to his. He had dressed much more casually than you in a loose, short sleeve button up, loose pants and a large dark jacket. He had kept the hat and the choker— which you had not until that moment realized you remembered— but you looked too formal next to him. “I thought you would dress the way you did on the train.”

He gave you a once over. “You look fine,” he said. “You look great, actually. Don’t worry about it.”

A smile spread across your face. “You've gotten more confident since then, too. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t look totally plain next to you is all; you look so stylish.”

He paused, eyes cast down towards his feet. “Thank you. I drank before I came.” He opened the door to the restaurant for you.

You walked past him. “Thank you. Did you drive?”

“Nah.” He shut the door behind the two of you. “This place is out of the way enough to make it not worth the trouble to park. I walked.” He nodded to the hostess, who sat the two of you in a corner away from the door.

The restaurant was a hole-in-the-wall: exposed crossbeams, warmly lit, nearly empty despite it being a Saturday. You took your seat across from him as the woman set a cup of water in front of each of you, leaving you to your conversation. She made no eye contact with either of you before she left. You picked up your cup, taking a sip as he draped his coat over the back of the seat and set his hat beneath his chair. The gloves, however, stayed on. “How long was the walk?” you asked.

“Not far. A couple minutes.” His elbows came to rest on the table. “I can walk you back to your car if you drove, or to the train station if you need. Just let me know.”

“Thank you.” You took a menu from the center of the table, scanning it absently. “To be honest, I’m glad you asked me to do something earlier in the evening; I’m not super interested in being on my own in the dark.”

He hummed in agreement. “Nobody does. I have work to take care of later, but I can’t imagine wanting to stay out past twelve alone otherwise.”

You groaned sympathetically. “Terrible. What do you do?”

He paused. “I… it’s complicated.” He laced his fingers together. “I operate a shipping company under a parent organization operating out of Yokohama. I technically and practically own the shipping company, but I can’t legally operate it unless it’s under the parent organization, so I have all the stress of a business owner with none of the freedom.”

Your lips twitched nervously. “Are you on a list or something? Why can’t you operate a business?”

“What do you– oh.” The brief look of confusion left his face. “I’m a skill user.”

“A what?”

“You know,” he repeated, “a skill user?”

You stared at him blankly.

“I have a gift?”

“Isn’t that a dog whistle?”

“What? No!” He crossed his arms. “I have supernatural abilities.”

You considered it. “You know,” you mused, “I’ve never been on a date with a guy who came out as being possessed to me.”

He opened his mouth to protest, blinked. “Well,” he conceded, “I guess that’s what I’m saying, but that would be a bad assumption most of the time; most gifted users aren’t possessed.”

“Wait, seriously?” Skepticism and deep curiosity battled for supremacy in your mind. “By what?”

He shrugged. “A god, I guess?”

“You guess?”

“It’s complicated.” To your– and his– surprise, he laughed. “It’s funny; I can’t think of the last time I had to actually explain what my deal was.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Do most people just know?”

“More or less.” He shrugged again, looking towards the door. “It’s practical. I use it a lot.”

“I see.” You sat up, taking your cup and turning it over in your hands. “What does it do?”

He did not say anything for a second, brow furrowing. He looked back in your direction, holding out his hand. “Give me your cup.”

You did.

He set the cup down on the table. Slowly, as though it had been set in a pool of water, the cup began to float upwards. “My ability,” he explained simply, clearly taking pride in the way your eyes lit up in excitement and awe, “allows me to manipulate gravity for any object I touch.”

You reached out towards the cup, moving your hand above and below it. If there was a trick to what he was doing, you had no idea what it was. “That is so freakin’ cool,” you gushed softly. “How can you keep it from flying away?”

He was practically glowing. “Basically, I’m counteracting the force of Earth’s gravity for just this object by creating a second center of gravity that only affects the cup.” He pointed to a spot near the center of cup. “It’s around here. So long as the force of the gravitational field I'm creating is greater than Earth’s, the cup will naturally try and be as close to the center as possible. If the gravitational pull were too strong, the cup would go through that point–” he pointed towards the ceiling, “-- and through the roof before coming back down. But if the force is weak, it’ll stay right around the center.”

You took the cup, moving it towards you before letting go. As if attached to a string, the cup moved back to its place, the water inside is sloshing.

The pure, childlike joy on your face was enough for the man across from you to forget, for a moment, the price of his gift.

The date continued on. The two of you went back and forth on a variety of simple, surface level topics. You learned that Chuuya was a dog person and that he enjoyed fashion. He said he had been in Yokohama practically all his life. He told you about his coworkers– no details, but enough to get a sense for the type of Motley Crew they were– and how that day was an anniversary for something, though he never got around to telling you what it was an anniversary of. At one point, before your food had gotten to the table, you asked about his gloves, which he had apparently not realized he was still wearing. He explained that he wore them all the time– he said it made work easier– but that he did have the good sense to take them off.

“I’m not a monster,” he had insisted. “I don’t want to get food on them.”

The conversation was surprisingly easy. He was nervous at first and clearly inexperienced– an observation that you chose to keep to yourself– but funny and over dramatic in a way that made the discussions flow jovially between the two of you. He was a sailor-mouthed, irreverent, sensitive man, you found, and he seemed to take great pleasure in your company and a surprising interest in the more tedious parts of your life: your occupation, your friends, your earlier life, all of which he found strangely fascinating. Though you knew little of substance about him by the end of the meal you shared, you could not shake the feeling that the sort of things you learned– the simple, stupid things most people gave out as icebreakers– held more weight than you could understand.

But you were grateful, nonetheless. You enjoyed talking to him.

Despite your protests, he paid for the both of you, and the two of you left the restaurant cracking up over some embarrassing story about school.

“Three days straight?”

You waved him off, laughter still bubbling from your throat. “I know; it was stupid!” you cried. “I swear I was possessed; by the end of it I thought there was a chance– assuming I didn’t have heart attack first– that I was immortal.” You sighed, trying to regain composure; you were gigglier than normal. “But I passed the class, so fuck that guy.”

He set his hat back on his head, pushing it down to rest snugly. “Fuck that guy,” he agreed, having about as much success as you did in wiping the stupid smile off his face. “God– being a teenager fucking sucked.”

“Dude, amen to that.” You looked in his direction, tears from the cold and from excessive laughter in your eyes. “Chuuya,” you sighed happily, “I am having an excellent time.”

“What a coincidence,” he grinned. “So am I.”

You looked up at the sky, which was significantly darker than you thought it would be; you supposed that you had spent more time in the restaurant than you thought. “I shouldn’t walk back to the station any later on my own, though.” You slipped your hands into your own pockets. “So–”

“Can you stand to be out later if I can get you back to the train?” He cleared his throat, apparently hearing the eagerness in his voice as clearly as you did. It was the same eagerness he had when he first asked you here. “What time is it?”

You took your phone from your coat, flipping it open. “Nine-ish.”

“Nine?” He pursed his lips. “Shit, I— no, I can make that work.” He leaned his weight onto one side. “I have to get somewhere at eleven, but it’s not a formal thing.” He looked away, swallowing. “If you want to, I mean.”

You held out your hand to him. “Nothing in this moment would make me happier than spending more of my time with you, Chuuya.” You wiggled your fingers in invitation. “Where should we go?”

He was staring at you, at your body bathed in the warm light streaming from the restaurant’s windows, at your face which betrayed nothing but pure intentions, to your hand which you offered him freely. He wondered if you knew how easy it would be to kill you if he touched you. He wondered if that was something someone like you considered at all.

“Chuuya?”

He blinked, clearing his throat. It did not matter. He took your hand. “Sorry.” He was breathless. “Lost in thought.”

You let him pull you closer, nudging him playfully with your side. “You’ll end up swallowing a fly if you keep your mouth open like that,” you teased. “Do you really like looking at me that much?”

He straightened up, heat flushing his cheeks. “So what if I do?”

“Well, I don’t imagine it’d taste very good.”

He snorted. “Shut up.” He nudged you back, looking forward. “We can sit by the river for a while if you’d like; the streets will be sketchy here pretty soon but nobody goes by the part of the river we’re by.”

“Really? How come?”

He shrugged. “It’s impractical. Nobody important goes to the river, anyway.”

“Nobody important?”

“Huh? Oh, right; you’re not from around here.” He looked back in the direction of the river, starting to lead the two of you there. “The Port Mafia doesn’t dump bodies into the rivers; they throw them out by the dock.”

“The mafia?” You started. “What, like La Cosa Nostra?”

“What you do and don’t know is really confusing.” He rolled his eyes. “The Port Mafia is a smuggling ring operating primarily out of the city; it has nothing to do with the Italian mob.”

“Oh.” You squeezed his hand, following close behind. “That’s terrifying.”

“It is?”

“To know that people are just chucking bodies frequently enough that you know about it? And that there’s more than one group doing it?” You tittered nervously. “I mean, I’d heard a little about Yokohama, but I didn’t know it was that bad.”

He squeezed your hand back, looking over his shoulder in your direction. A wry smile crossed his face. “Huh. That’s funny.”

You walked a bit faster to stay beside him. “What’s funny?”

“That you think it’s weird. I guess it never occurred to me that it was strange.” He tugged you to his side. “You don’t need to be scared, though; I’ll protect you.”

“Oh, will you?”

He shot you a look. “What,” he challenged, “you don’t think I can?”

“I never said that,” you protested. “It was just a very old-fashioned thing to say.” You lowered your voice to a growl. “‘Don’t worry, dollface; I’ll protect you.’ It sounds like something you’d hear in a noir.”

He opened his mouth to argue, considered it. “I guess if you found that weird, that would be an odd thing to say, wouldn’t it?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Because what would you need protecting from?”

“Exactly.”

A funny look came onto his face. “That’s funny,” he repeated. “That’s…” He trailed off, slowing to a stop on the road.

You looked back at him. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled. “Just that…” Startling eyes– they seemed to shine under the streetlamps– met yours. “You said you stayed up for three days straight,” he said. “Do you sleep well now?”

You looked away. “I don’t know if I sleep well, exactly; I don’t sleep as much as I should, at least.”

“But it feels normal, doesn’t it? To not sleep much?”

“I suppose.” You turned to face him properly.

His gaze shifted from you to the sky. “You know, I just remembered something.” He started to walk again, pulling you behind. “When I was little, none of us– none of the people I hung out with– had much pocket money, so we made a game out of stealing from the convenience stores in town. The competition was to see who could pay for as little as possible without getting banned from the store. I was never really good at it because I was an easy to read kid, but I remember always going for those… what do you call them? Bonbons?” He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger. “The little wrapped chocolates. I’d always shove one into my pocket because they were always left out and who’s going to give a kid shit for taking a piece of candy?”

You followed beside him quietly, watching him.

He continued. “The other day,” he said, “I went into a convenience store for the ATM, and I must have withdrawn twenty thousand yen or something like that– a good amount. I bought a pack of gum before I left because I didn’t want to be the asshole that just uses an ATM and leaves, and I realized– I think I’d walked a block away when I did– that I had one of those candies in my pocket.” He led you off the path. “I guess I must’ve picked it up while I was paying for the gum. They weren’t even the good chocolates; they were the hundred yen ones, and I knew why I’d grabbed that piece– because nobody’s going to lose their mind over a hundred whatever yen– but I couldn’t for the life of me remember why I’d grabbed it.”

The two of you came to a stop by the riverbed. It was quiet for a Saturday. The water shone under the moonlight, and the man beside you– whose gaze was now transfixed by the reflection– stood next to you, seemingly lost in thought.

You never let go of his hand. “Being a kid kinda sucks,” you said, running your thumb over his clothed knuckles. “You usually don’t have many responsibilities, but you don’t know enough to know what you should and shouldn’t get involved with.”

He looked to you.

“And you get so jealous of the Huck Finn kids– you know the type: no responsibilities, nobody to tell them no– until you get older and realize– too late– that the habits you picked up when you were left to your own devices probably weren’t the healthiest, but by the time you put that together they’re so deeply encoded in your being that they’re a part of who you are and part of how you got this far, so even if they’re unhealthy it’s not like you can give them up now.” You shivered. “It’s frustrating, looking back and thinking about what you could’ve been.”

The two of you stood there, staring at the water. Chuuya wrapped an arm around your shoulders, trying, in vain, to keep you from the cold.

Finally, he spoke. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this kind of conversation with anyone before.”

You closed your eyes, leaning against him. “It’s funny,” you said. “I don’t think I have either.”

His voice was soft. “I want to see you again.”

“So do I.”

“Then we should.”

“We should.”

You did.

[swimming-karyss]

fem!Sabo oh fem!Sabo..... some notes on the design under cut :3c (I lied. there's a whole lot of rambling)

Since I really like Sabo’s Dressrosa design I didn’t want to change it too much (I think that Sabo's Dressrosa design is perfect for his story! It incorporates both militaristic elements (overcoat, boots, coat+belt) with those of a nobleman's garment (top hat, cravat, coat cut to resemble a vest), it combines his noble origins and his current position in the army in a great way!)

But not changing anything at all would be lazy, so I wanted to make Sabo’s upper part of the clothes resemble feminine garments (I’ve taken a lot of inspiration from this thread on Victorian fashion on twitter, check it out c: ), and since I like to create unnecessary problems for myself, here’s the trouble – Even though most of Sabo's clothes are rather covering clothes (very demure, very mindful) and in general, compared to Ace&Luffy he shows almost no skin, but he almost always has unbuttoned collars and loose neckerchiefs. Well, if he wants to let them breathe, who am I to stop him? - but most of the garments I’ve seen have very closed neck&chest, and if I were just to open it it wouldn’t make Sabo as recognisable as his cravat does. So I picked those frilly-collared shirts! (but if not an unbuttoned collar, the other option would’ve been… a boob window)

And there's actually clothes that resemble Sabo's outfit a whole lot! Like this one is practially 1 to 1 X) (the 2nd one is for the ch. 1100 I just didn't want to waste the space)

ch. 1102 is self-explanatory, and since ch. 1100 is very cofered, with his cravat tightened(!) I also went for more feminine 'noble'-looking clothes!

as for her hair for ch 1100..... I saw these beautiful women on twitter and then demons guided my hand...................

Sabo has beautiful hari but doesn't properly take care of it (which is why her hair during childhood looks. like that.)

Also shout out for R1999 chardis I love women in big coats (also Milly trigun😌)

[shego1142]

Okay so… I don’t really want to make this post, mostly because I feel like I’m always the one wearing tin foil hats on tumblr

But listen… I understand being upset and sad and afraid right now

But yall some of these posts are going beyond doomerism

Some of these posts

A lot of these posts, actually

Look quite a bit like demoralisation

So many of these posts I’ve seen look very much like purposeful targeted demoralisation

And I do hope everyone can understand very quickly how bad demoralising people right now is.

I do hope everyone can very quickly understand just how much people in power stand to gain from demoralising us.

I mean, you know, not that I’m saying that there’s a psyop taking place on the website that has routinely had multiple proven right wing/conservative/white supremacist psyops take place or anything

You know, that would be bonkers.

But all of these blogs out here saying that everything is hopeless and nothing will ever get better and we are all doomed and we should just tear each other apart and play the blame game?

That’s a little fishy.

Especially given that now more than ever is a time to stand with one another and hold on to hope and start organising together.

All of these blogs just blind faith accepting the election results as they are and not even considering any bad acting is at play? Just rolling over without any hint of a fight and implying that everyone else has to as well?

That’s a little fishy.

Especially given that:

The election results are not certified until December 25th and the House and Senate do have the power to object to the electoral college votes (especially if enough pressure is put on them to do so)

Especially given that it took a long time before we were sure who won in the last presidential race and it looked like Trump had won that first week back then too

Especially given that Kamala Harris’ Concession speech is not legally binding, and if it is found out between now and December 25th that she has won, then that will still be considered a legal win.

Especially given that many states, including battleground states, are already doing a recount and many more states are presumed to follow (So far Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, Nevada are recounting the ballots and Arizona and Texas are considering)

Especially given that there has already been proven minimal forms of tampering with the election process including multiple burnt absentee ballot boxes, bomb threats at polling places, as well as just plain human error whether malicious or benign.

So… you know… anyone posting on here saying that hope is dead and that we should all hate each other and everyone should just fuck off and stop caring about everything and stop supporting each other?

That seems a little bit fishy, doesn’t it?

That seems a little bit fucking sus, doesn’t it?!

Especially given that, even after all is said and done, even if he 100% did win and there’s no doubt that it’s legitimate

He’s still being sued for multiple charges and violations of conduct, he could still end up in jail

Especially since even if he doesn’t, even if he is sitting as acting president one January:

We have 2 and 1/2 months to mobilise

2 and 1/2 months to organise

Sure would be convenient for Trump and the 1% and the right wing pundits to make everyone feel like everything is hopeless and tragic and to pit leftist against democrats and what not

Sure would be useful to them if we were all just sad and hateful to each other these next coming months

Like I’ve seen many posts tying to do.

You can feel your feelings but if you start advocating for us to attack one another, for women to fight and hate leftist men who voted for Kamala, for black people to fight and hate other people of color, for leftists to hate democrats for not “going far enough” and for democrats to hate leftists for “going too far”

And all this bullshit in-fighting

I’m just going to assume you’re a bad actor and block you

This isn’t the time for the blame game, there’s no fucking one to blame other than Trump and most likely Elon Musk’s money.

Now isn’t the time to give a shit about why the election results are what they are.

Now is a time to stand together, united, to make our communities better, safer, sanctuaries.

Now is the time to talk to one another, to not strive for perfection but for safety.

Call your representatives

Get your passport

Print out as many copies of books (especially banned ones) as possible and fill your local little libraries with them, fill it with zines about community building too,

Check out these links:

Talk to the queers and the people of colour and the disabled people in your community

Book a meeting room in your local library

Talk to your librarians, talk to your teachers and health care workers

Talk to your local conservationists.

Don’t just talk to leftist spaces either, remember:

There is Power in Making Friends, Not Winning Battles - reach out to your community and find out what the real issues are, it’s very rarely actually just hate, it’s usually fear and poverty.

Do nice things for your community in the name of Queerness - in some places you can adopt a road and make it beautiful, so this with a group of queer friends and get a plaque that says “This Road Was Adopted by The Queer Community”

Get together with your minority friends and figure out how to open a soup kitchen (easiest than you think and registering as a non profit is actually a great way to stay safe for many reasons)

Have your community see you as a part of it, not a threat to it.

Speak at schools

Fundraiser for the library

If you’re included to do so, you could partner with different religious groups as well, especially since there are in fact religious groups that are inclusive and welcoming and supportive.

Make your community know that the “threat” of the “lgbtqia” is non-existent

Don’t make yourself less queer, less a person of colour, less disabled, etc, don’t fade into the background

Become a shining beacon of positivity and goodness that everyone in your community can see as an asset to the community.

Give back more than you e ever gotten.

I know how difficult that can be but trust me, it will be worth it. Work with the leaders in your community to lobby for more rights just in your town and then you can lobby for more rights in your state.

Just like how many states have now said that if Trump tries to do mass deportations they will stop him, work to create that solidarity within your own communities.

Do not sit quietly in fear doing and saying nothing but hopeless things for the next two months.

Do not let anyone convince you that it’s over.

Do not become another statistic.

[parkingsunghoon]

Special to you

Idol heeseung x f reader

[chapter 1]

Summary: you were working at one of enhypen concerts as a security guard. You didn’t really know enhypen and you only got the job because your friend had worked there the year prior. You never would’ve imagined you’d become someone special

Fluff, series

———————————————————————————

It was just another day for me. Get up, got to work, come home and rot in bed. Unfortunately it wasn’t the rot in my bed hour instead, I have to get up and get ready for work. I enjoyed being a security guard. I don’t know how I got the job, I have the build of a lasagna noodle but hey it’s money.

I got up and got ready in my usual outfit, long black pants, my black shirt with my name embroidered in it and my belt that holds all my necessities. I slicked back my hair in a bun before brushing my teeth. Today a band called enhypen are playing, I hope they’re good. The last concert I was a security guard for was honestly not my cup of tea.

Once I finished getting ready I grabbed my bag and keys and headed out the door. I got in my car and started making my way to the stadium.

“God the traffic is horrendous” I spoke to myself. I hadn’t even gotten half way down the road from my house and there is already a long line of cars.

……………………………………………………………………………………

I waited in traffic for half an hour before arriving to the stadium. I parked my car and booked it to the front door. I can’t risk being late.

I got inside quickly and made my way to the lounge room for employees. I hung my bag up and quickly clocked in. This band must be huge, the amount of people here was more than I’ve ever seen in my 3 months on the job.

I quickly equip all my necesites like my walkie talkie and water and I head out to the floor. Today I was positioned directly in front of the stage. I settled in and observed as fans begin to spill in. These fans must be here for VIP exclusive since the concert didn’t start for another hour.

Once all the fans had made their way to their designated areas, a voice came over the speakers.

“Hello engene! Are you guys ready for soundcheck?” A voice that sounded distinctly Australian spoke. All the fans screamed. Honestly I don’t know how I am going to survive the screams when all the fans are in here.

Enhypen and fans talked a little before starting sound check. Let me tell you when these guys started singing I felt like I could fly. Their voices were breath taking, it took everything in me not to turn around and watch myself.

That’s one of the worst parts about being a security guard, we have to keep our eyes on the crowd at all times.

Some time had passed and it was now time for the actual concert. A part of me was excited for it after listening to their soundcheck.

The lights turned off and the stage lights came on as fans screams shook the stadium. The energy in here was amazing. I could tell everyone was very excited.

“HELLO EVERYBODY!!!” A voice high pitched yet super smooth voice announced. I heard this voice a lot during their sound check. I assume he’s one of the lead singers and his adlibs were to die for.

Fans yelled back hello in response to his. I thought it was cute. I hadn’t attended a concert as a fan in a while so seeing others do it warms my heart in a sense.

Everyone went quiet before the song came over the speakers. Once the music hit their ears everyone went crazy. I watched in amazement. Fans jumping up and down, smiles painting their faces. The pure joy shown around the stadium was beautiful.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I was standing there watching them before the girls in front of me started going ballistic. They looked at me then behind me. I was really confused until I felt a breath brush against my ear as the person sang into their microphone.

I wanted to turn around so bad. I had to fight the itching urge at the back of my head.

“You can bite me, you complete me” he sung the words so smoothly next to me. I felt my body almost give away. I understood now why these fans go crazy over these men when they give them fan service like this.

I resisted the urge and he went back to performing I assume because I no longer felt his presence behind me.

More time had passed and the members were now walking off the stage to give high fives to fans as they sung their final song of the night.

Fans screamed and reached their arms out in hopes to be one of the lucky ones. It’s was such an adorable moment, and it was also a moment to finally see what they look like.

I analyzed all of them. They were all so tall and slender, perfect representation of vampires. None of their faces disappointed either. Their beauty deserves to be framed, maybe even sculpted and placed in a museum.

As I was analyzing them, one made eye contact with me. He was tall, with a cold yet warm demeanor. He had the prettiest doe eyes a girl has seen and his cheeks reminded me of a hamster.

I quickly looked away, I’d rather not become the center of attention. My luck seemed to fail though as he began walking in my direction. I acted professional none the less.

He looked at me one last time before climbing onto the barricade. I mentally cursed myself before going and grabbing his waist lightly feeling weird about it. It was apart of my job, to make sure none of them got hurt but something about grabbing and attractive man by the waist felt dirty.

He eventually stepped back down and looked at me once more. He smiled and bowed ever so slightly.

“Thank you beautiful” he said before walking away. I contained myself and went back to my spot. I couldn’t lie though, that one sentence did things to me. It was like my heart became liquid.

They all bid their goodbyes and reassuring fans that they’ll see them for their second concert here tomorrow. Then I realized, I will be working AGAIN tomorrow. I don’t think I can’t handle another day.

As my coworkers helped fans out of the stadium I went back stage to throw away trash left behind. As I was heading to the trash I bumped into someone.

I quickly apologized before realizing it was the same guy. I gave him a sheepish smile in hopes he won’t try to get me fired to this inconvenience.

“So we meet again?” The man said with a playful smile.

“I guess so I respond anxiously” I was not one to talk to men. I get flustered way too easily.

“My names heeseung..”

[sashaasreads]

Love n' London

Harry Styles x Fem Reader

A/N Apologies for the delay! I’ve been busy, but I’m finally getting to upload again. Still no smut—I’m working on finding the right approach to write it without it feeling awkward. Thanks for your patience!

_______________________________________

Y/n grew up dreaming of living in London. Ever since she was a child, the city had fascinated her its vibrant art scene, the music, the historic architecture, and the countless little cafes. So, after graduating from art school, she packed her things and moved to the city, full of ambition and excitement.

She found a job as a curator’s assistant in a small gallery in Soho. It was the perfect job, really she spent her days surrounded by paintings and sculptures, getting to know local artists, and learning how to put together exhibitions. It wasn’t glamorous, but Lena loved it.

One grey October afternoon, y/n was at her usual spot in the gallery. She had just finished adjusting a painting, making sure it was perfectly aligned, when the bell over the door chimed, signaling a visitor. She glanced up to see a figure in the doorway, his frame silhouetted against the dim light outside. He was tall, with a tousled head of curls peeking out from under a beanie, a coat draped over his shoulders.

As he stepped inside, Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. The face beneath those curls was unmistakable Harry Styles, the singer she had admired for years. She had seen him in interviews, photos, and music videos, but nothing compared to seeing him in person.

Harry caught her looking and gave a small, shy smile. She blushed, quickly looking away, pretending to adjust her clipboard. But Harry approached her, offering a charming, friendly "Hello."

Y/n stammered out a greeting, her cheeks flushed as she tried to act calm. "Can I help you with something?"

“Actually,” he said with a little laugh, “I’m here to see some art, but I’d love a guide if you’re available.”

It turned out Harry was in town with a few days off between tour stops and had been wandering through London, exploring its art scene. Y/n walked him through the gallery, explaining each piece. She was passionate about her work, and he seemed genuinely interested, asking her thoughtful questions. They talked about art, music, and their favorite places in London.

After their tour, Harry surprised her by inviting her to a late lunch at a small café nearby. Still in shock, she accepted, and they spent the afternoon laughing and talking as though they’d known each other for years. Y/n found herself opening up to him in a way she rarely did, talking about her dreams, her childhood, and the strange mix of fear and excitement she felt about living in London.

Over the next few weeks, they continued to meet. Harry would drop by the gallery whenever he was free, sometimes bringing coffee or flowers. They would spend hours talking, sharing stories, and discovering new corners of the city together. Y/n soon realized that Harry, for all his fame and glamour, was remarkably down to earth. He seemed genuinely fascinated by her, by her art, by her life. And she, in turn, found herself falling deeper each day.

One crisp evening in November, after a quiet dinner in a little Italian restaurant tucked away in a side street, they found themselves walking along the Thames. The lights of London sparkled on the water, casting soft, dancing reflections. They walked in comfortable silence, fingers occasionally brushing against each other’s.

Harry stopped, turning to face her. His green eyes held a softness that took her breath away.

“y/n ,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “This might sound crazy, but I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Y/n felt her heart pounding. She wanted to say something, but words seemed too small to capture what she felt. So she simply reached out, taking his hand in hers, and they stood there, the world fading away around them.

As the weeks turned into months, Harry’s tours took him to different cities, but he and y/n stayed in touch, talking late into the night, sharing stories, and sending each other songs and sketches. The distance was hard, but their bond only seemed to grow stronger with time.

Whenever he was back in London, they would pick up right where they left off. They explored every hidden gem in the city together, from art galleries and vintage bookstores to secret gardens and rooftop views. Harry introduced her to his world, taking her backstage at his concerts, letting her experience the thrill and energy of his performances. y/n introduced him to hers, taking him to underground art shows and showing him her latest work.

Their love story was a quiet, steady thing, like the pulse of the city itself. They were each other’s inspiration. Y/n's paintings became infused with new colors and emotions, and Harry’s songs took on a deeper, more soulful tone. She was his muse, and he was hers.

One rainy evening, a few years after they’d first met, Harry surprised her with a visit to the gallery. He was holding an umbrella and looked every bit as dashing as the day she’d first seen him. She was setting up a new exhibit and hadn’t expected him to come. But there he was, standing there with that familiar smile, his eyes shining.

“Harry!” She ran over, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her close.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said, his voice warm and full of excitement. He led her outside and down the street, and before she knew it, they were at a small, empty theater. Inside, a grand piano stood on the dimly lit stage.

He sat down at the piano, motioning for her to sit beside him. Then, he began to play. It was a song she’d never heard before, gentle, heartfelt, each note weaving a story of love, devotion, and all the golden moments they’d shared.

When he finished, he looked at her, his face softened with vulnerability. “I wrote this for you, y/n. You’ve changed my life in ways I can’t put into words.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she took his hand, squeezing it. They didn’t need to say anything; the silence between them spoke louder than words ever could.

That night, in that quiet, empty theater, with only the faint glow of city lights around them, they knew they had found something rare, something lasting. The kind of love that was more than a moment it was a lifetime, etched in songs and sketches, laughter and quiet glances, memories, and dreams.

In each other, they had found a piece of themselves they never knew was missing a love that was as deep as the city they both called home.

[crimsonwolf715]

I Wanted To Do It Because They Took Me Away From You

(Part 1 of Adventures of the Batfamily)

Bruce Wayne POV

“Damian’s gonna stay here since he’s still feeling under the weather,” Dick says as Bruce comes out of his office for patrol. 

“Sounds like a good decision,” Bruce replies. 

“Also, come say hi to Tim.” 

Bruce walks over to Dick, who holds his phone out. “Hello, Tim.” 

“Hi, Bruce. I heard that the Demon Spawn can actually get sick.” 

“He’s had a cold pretty much since you left,” Bruce says. “And be nice.” 

“Eh…” 

Dick laughs. “They mean it lovingly when they call each other mean names.” 

Bruce sighs. 

“I’ll try to talk them into being more civil,” Dick whispers. 

Bruce nods. “Thank you. Tim, how is the mission going?” 

“Fine. We’re almost done. Just another day or two and I should be back home with everyone else,” Tim answers. “I’ve missed you guys, even Damian.” 

“That’s what happens when you live with a bunch of people and then go somewhere else for over a week,” Dick replies. “I’ve had it happen a lot of times.” 

“I’m gonna head out on patrol. You two behave and make sure you check on Damian while I’m gone, Dick.” 

“I will. He’s mostly over it so he should be fine in the morning.” 

“I know, just make sure that he gets some rest and doesn’t spend all night talking to his many animals.” 

“I will.”  

Bruce wakes up with a sick feeling in his stomach. He opens his eyes and everything around him is blurry. 

“Wakey wakey, Batsy.” 

The Joker appears in front of Bruce and he tries to back up, only to find himself stuck where he is. Another Joker appears next to the first one. 

“Wow, that really did a number on you, Bats. I can’t even tell if you know what’s going on.” 

Bruce tastes metallic, then spits blood onto the floor. He doesn’t feel injured, but the taste is still in his mouth and he can see the blood clearly. 

“Oooo, so high, Batsy.” 

Bruce’s eyes force themselves closed, like there’s some kind of weight on his eyelids. 

Twelve year old Jason jumps out from behind the Batcomputer. “Boo!” 

“Nice try, Jason,” Bruce says, holding a mug of coffee. He takes a sip as Jason starts pouting. 

“You’re impossible to surprise,” Jason says. 

“Not true. You’ll just have to pay close attention,” Bruce replies. 

“Dick has managed to surprise me in this cave twice.” 

“I gotta ask him how he did that. He’s so cool.” 

Bruce smiles and shakes his head. Jason’s eyes are bright as he jumps around in his costume, preparing to fight crime. 

Bruce opens his eyes to see Dick across from him, tied up in his Nightwing costume. 

“Two caught, one to go,” Joker’s voice says, even though he’s nowhere to be seen. 

Dick looks worse for wear. Bruce can see that most of his face is bruised even though his head is down and his arm is in a position unnatural for an arm to be. 

“Nightwing,” Bruce says. 

He doesn’t say anything or pick his head up. Joker walks back in and throws Damian on the floor in front of him. 

“Got them,” Joker says. “Now you can all die together as the happy family you claim to be, on the anniversary of the worst day of your life. We miss baby Jay-bird, don’t we?” 

Dick Grayson POV 

“Please tell me you’ve got something,” Nightwing says as he and Damian take a break on a rooftop. “We’ve been looking for almost twelve hours and there’s no sign of the Joker.” 

“Well I’d love to tell you good news, hot stuff, but I don’t have any.” 

Damian groans and turns his comm off. Dick rolls his eyes where Damian can see it. 

A moment of silence. 

“You alright, Oracle?” 

“Hold on,” Barbara says. 

“Hold on?” Dick asks. 

Damian switches his comm back on. 

“The computer finally figured out where he is, but I don’t know that you’ll get there in time.” 

“Where is it?” Dick asks. 

She rattles off a location and how to get there. 

“I can do it. Come on, Damian. We’re never telling Batman how fast I’m about to drive with you in the car with me.” 

“Go speed racer,” Damian says as they head towards the Batmobile. 

They get to the Batmobile and Dick starts racing towards the warehouse. “Keep watching the feed for me,” Dick says to Damian. 

Damian pulls his phone out and turns on the news. “Twenty minutes until the timer goes off.” 

“We can get there in twenty minutes,” Dick says hesitantly. 

“You don’t sound sure,” Damian points out. 

“I’m sure,” Dick replies, hiding his concern behind a quick smile. 

Damian nods, clearly unconvinced. Gordon calls so Dick puts the video in the corner of the screen towards Damian. 

“We got an anonymous tip on where Batman is,” Gordon says. “We’ve got officers already on the way and I was supposed to contact you earlier, but got busy.” 

“No need to worry. We know where he is and we’re on the way.” 

“That’s good.” 

“How close are the officers?” Dick asks. 

“About fifteen minutes out,” Gordon answers. 

“We’ll meet them there but they are not allowed to go in without us. Joker will kill them without hesitation if he finds them.” 

“I know the rules. I’ve already alerted them that they can’t go in without you guys until the timer hits five minutes. If it hits that point and you guys aren’t there, they’re gonna go in without you.” 

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” Dick replies. “Bye, Gordon.” 

He hangs up and picks up speed once he gets on a straight road. 

“Weee,” Damian says sarcastically. 

Dick shakes his head, but laughs for a moment.  

Jason Todd POV

Jason turns on the TV and sees Joker on the screen with a bloody and beaten Batman. 

“One hour left until The Batman dies,” Joker says. “Nightwing and Robin are nowhere to be seen and if they’re not quick about it, they’ll get to watch just like everyone else.” 

Jason recognizes the room Batman’s being held in. It’s from the “Funhouse”. Jason doesn’t grab his helmet or take any of his normal tools with him. He grabs one of his pistols off of the table and runs to his motorcycle. 

After securing the pistol in its holster, he speeds towards the warehouse. He weaves through traffic with expert ease and makes it to the Joker’s “Funhouse” in record time. He walks into the warehouse, memories of his brutal beating at the hands of the Joker flashing before his eyes making it hard to concentrate on the task at hand. 

He searches each room until he finds Joker, laughing as he’s telling the camera that there’s only one minute left until Batman gets executed. The method of execution is something else. A cannon-like contraption that’s got smiles and laughs painted on the sides, but instead of a cannonball it has five knives inside of the barrel. Jason grabs the knife out of his pocket and cuts the wires to the camera as Joker pokes Batman’s face while taunting him. 

“You’ll have the same death day as your son,” Joker whispers. “A fitting end, if you ask me.” 

It takes a moment, but Joker hears the camera feed in the corner of the room cut so he turns in that direction. Jason runs towards him and kicks him into the wall. 

“Five… Four…” 

Jason looks around the room to see the timer on the cannon still running. One thought crosses his mind as he makes eye contact with Bruce, who looks like a light breeze could take him out. 

Joker won’t take anything else if I can help it.  

He runs towards Bruce as the timer keeps counting down. 

“Three… Two… One…” 

Jason grabs at his chest, where the knives found home after being shot from the cannon. Joker, who’s getting up after being kicked into the wall looks shocked, then angry. Jason’s vision blurs, then stumbles back. Joker starts raging and throwing things around. 

“I killed you! You’re supposed to be dead!” Joker shouts. “How are you still alive?” 

Jason flips Joker off. “I’m just that awesome, shithead,” he chokes out. 

Police sirens can be heard, so Jason pops three shots off at Joker. One manages to find home in his arm, so he tucks tail and runs. Jason takes one of the knives out of his chest and cuts Bruce free, then falls onto his back. 

Bruce shakily gets on the ground. “Jason?” 

“Heh, I cut the camera feeds so you can feel free to pass out until the police show up with Bluebird and your new brat,” Jason says. 

“How are you alive?” Bruce asks. 

“Ra’s woke me up.” 

“What…?” 

“I had this grand plan to take control of Gotham’s underworld and kill the Joker. I know your stupid rule of no killing, but just him. I wanted to do it because he took me away from you.” 

“Jason, you’re gonna be fine. You can’t die again.” 

“You’re acting fairly normal for a man so high off his ass that he couldn’t untie a rope tied like a child tied it.” 

Bruce’s breathing gets heavier and faster, so Jason slaps him. It’s weak by all standards, but it does the trick. Bruce comes back to reality and starts checking Jason’s condition. 

“Stop it, old man. I guess this is how it should have ended. Dying to protect my family, I like that. I still hate you for replacing me and leaving that scumbag alive, but at least nobody has to lose their dad today.” 

Jason turns his head to the side, then starts coughing up blood. 

“Father!” a voice calls from somewhere else in the base. 

“Damian,” Bruce mumbles, then turns in the direction of the door. 

“I hope you don’t remember this when you wake up,” Jason says. 

Bruce turns back towards Jason and he slams the butt of his gun into Bruce’s forehead. Bruce blacks out almost instantly and crumples into a heap. 

Bruce Wayne POV

Bruce wakes up to the sound of a heartbeat monitor. Steady heartbeat, and someone is holding his hands. He opens his eyes and he’s surrounded by his children. Dick, Tim, and Damian are all sitting in the room around his bed. Dick and Damian have a hold of his hands while Tim’s sitting at the foot of the bed with a book in hand. All of them are asleep in various uncomfortable looking positions. Damian blinks his eyes open and stares at Bruce for a minute before seeming to fully wake up. 

“Father!” Damian lets go of his hand so he could use both hands to reposition. 

Bruce ruffles Damian’s hair, which he accepts with a small huff. It only takes a minute for the other two to wake up thanks to Damian’s ruckus. 

“How long was I out?” Bruce asks. 

“Almost thirty-six hours,” Dick answers after a quick glance at his watch. 

“It took you so long that Drake was able to come back from his mission,” Damian adds. 

“What happened to Jay?” Bruce asks. Dick stiffens up while Tim and Damian look confused. 

“Who?” Damian asks. 

Recognition crosses Tim’s face, then it turns to confusion. “What do you mean?” 

“He was there. He got me out.” 

“Jason wasn’t there, Bruce,” Dick says quietly. “You were the only person there and the feed cut suddenly, so we figured you got yourself out. You were pretty high, so you can’t really trust anything you saw.” 

Bruce furrows his brows, but only acknowledges the statement with a nod. The subject changes to his recovery, which will take a couple weeks so says Dr. Thompkins. Bruce doesn’t say much, letting his kids do the talking. Tim tells him all about the mission he was on and how well it went, while Dick and Damian talk about adding trackers into the suits so they can keep up with each other. 

Everyone quiets back down after a while and eventually falls asleep, so Bruce is left alone with his thoughts. Thoughts about the fact that there should be a fourth kid here with him and there isn’t. That Jason would be here with his brothers if Bruce hadn’t been so reckless and careless. 

Jason POV 

Jason stumbles into his base and people start rushing towards him. 

“Boss, what happened?” one asks. 

They take him to the clinic down the road and the doctor treats his wounds. Once the doctor clears him to leave, he heads back to base. Everyone’s waiting, and looks concerned. 

“How are you planning on protecting us from the Bat like that?” one asks. 

“Bat’s gonna be out for a while,” Jason replies. “He’s being replaced by Nightwing, and I’m pretty sure that you guys can handle the week that I’ll be out.” 

“A week?” another one cuts in. “You look like you’ll be out for at least a month.” 

“I heal fast,” Jason says. “I’ll be back to working in no time. I’m thinking that we change our tactics a little while waiting for the Bat to come back. I want things to be a little more discreet. Give the heroes a false sense of security.” 

He explains the plan to them and they all seem pleased with it. 

“Someone keep tabs on whatever you can find about the Joker while I’m out,” Jason says. 

He heads back to his tiny apartment and crashes.

[runningincircl3s]

Nothing Ever After

Noah Sebastian x Reader x Vinny Mauro

Chapter Fourteen

chapter warnings: tiny mention of implied smut?

team vinny we are so up for the next few chapters :) sorry for the delay on posting this one, the next chapter might also be a little late because I'm soo busy this next week and I haven't had a chance to even begin editing it but as soon as I can I will get working on it because it's my favourite chapter I've written for this story so far and i really can't wait to share it with you!! <3

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“You don’t have to hide it from me, y’know?” Noah says, his hair falling over his eyes, hand gently placed on your waist as he smiles down at you, “I know how you feel about him.”

“What?”

“Vinny. I’ve seen the way you look at him, it’s okay if you’re in love with him, that’s why I’ve told him to meet us here.”

“Huh?” You laugh, "I'm not in love-"

“Look, he’s on his way.” 

You look up and see Vinny walking towards the both of you, something looked different about him, but he was definitely still him. 

“So you finally made your decision.” Vin smiles, a sparkle was in his eye that you had never seen before.

“What decision?” You didn't understand what was going on.

“You agreed.” Said Noah, his thumb drawing circles on your hip. 

“To what?” You asked. 

“I wasn’t too sure at first when Noah suggested it, baby,” Vinny began, “But the more I thought about it, the more I realised I wanted it.” 

It finally clicked, and you understood why the both of them were here. A rush of excitement rushed through you, adreneline in your veins as you look between the two men in front of you. Your lips crashed into Vin’s as Noah’s found your neck, you’d had this thought many times before, but you never thought it would actually happen.

“God, I need you both,” you moan, feeling Vinny’s- or was it Noah’s hand cupping your breast, as the others' hand came down to your ass, “Please…”

“What do you think? Should we play nice?” Noah asked Vinny, who nodded his head. 

"I think she deserves it."

"Please..." You whimpered, feeling Noah's hot breath tickle your ear as he whispered,

"Get on your knees, princess. Vin's being too kind, I think you need to earn it."

You dropped to your knees in front of Vinny, palming him over his joggers, the ache between your thighs was becoming unbearable as you tugged Vin's boxers down.

“Y/n.” You heard Vin pant as you took him in your mouth, your tongue dancing over his tip before you take him down your throat, Noah's voice whispering praises as he plays with your hair, “y/n…”

“Y/n! Rise and shine!” Vinny shouted, waking you from your nap. 

“What the fuck, Vin!” You groaned, rubbing your eyes, “You just woke me up from the best dream I’ve had in years.”

“Oh yeah?” He smirked, “was I in it?”

“You wish.” You groaned, sitting up to stretch your arms, ignoring how your underwear felt slightly damp as you moved, making you feel rather uncomfortable. “What are you doing here anyway?” 

“I broke my charger and Jolly’s letting me borrow his. Which one’s his bunk?”

“The one on top of mine.” 

“Thanks.” He looks, and then freezes. He stands there in silence for a moment. You panicked internally, wondering if you were moaning his name in your sleep, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, I guess.” You say, reaching around to see where you left your phone when you fell asleep to hide the redness of your cheeks.

“It’s going to sound insane.” 

“Of course, it’s coming from you.” You smirk.

“Y/n, I’m serious.” 

“Okay, sorry. Ask away.” You wondered what could be that serious. 

“It’s my parent’s 40th wedding anniversary this weekend and they’re having a party, they're renewing their vows...” 

“Okay…” You expected him to ask you for help to re-dye his hair or to find something to wear or-

“The thing is... My parents think I have a girlfriend, I’ve never told them I do or don’t, but they’re expecting me to bring someone. I, uh, wanted to ask you because,” you’d never seen Vinny look this nervous in the entire month that you’ve known him, “Well, I thought maybe you could bring your camera, I could tell them my ‘girlfriend’ is a photographer. I’ll make sure I tell them that we’ve broken up next week so they don’t keep asking about you or asking about our plans for the future or-”

"So you want me to be your imaginary girlfriend."

"No- Well, I mean it's not like, I mean you won't-"

“Vinny, it's okay,” you smile, “I’ll do it. I don’t know how I’ll explain it to the rest of the guys-”

“If any of them ask I’ll tell them you’re coming with me just as a photographer, I’ve already thought this through.” 

“Wow,” you chuckle, surprised he'd really thought about this, “You certainly have.” 

“So you’ll definitely come with me?” He asked, “I think my dad might be calling me later so I’ll let him know.”

“What kind of friend would I be if I said no,” you gave him an innocent smile, “Tell Mr Mauro I said hello.” 

“Oh, I was just coming to wake you up.” You hear Noah’s voice, “We’ve checked into our rooms, I’m so glad we’re here for the next few days, I have so much work to get done.” He sighed, reaching for his laptop that he left in his bunk.

“Vin’s just told me his parents are having an anniversary party this weekend and they’ve asked me to be their photographer, isn’t that right, Vin?” 

“Yeah," Vin scratches the back of his neck, "They’ve seen some of the pictures y/n's taken from the last few weeks and asked if she was free this weekend. It’s on Saturday night so we’ll stay there and come back on Sunday.” 

“Oh that’s great,” Noah smiled, rubbing your shoulder, and all of a sudden seeing Noah and Vin both stood over you, you got a flashback to your dream. “And there you were weeks ago worrying you wouldn’t get booked.” You smiled back at him, agreeing.

"Anyway that's all I had to say," Vin smiled, spotting Jolly's phone charger. You had to look away as he reached up to Jolly's bunk, his sweater raising and exposing the trail of hair below his belly button- "See you guys!"

"Bye Vin." You give him a little wave as he walked off.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Once you’ve checked into your room and searched through your suitcase you realised you didn’t really have anything to wear for this type of occasion. You had party outfits, casual outfits, but nothing you could imagine wearing for an anniversary party.

You sent a text to Angela asking if she was busy in the next couple of days and wanted to go shopping with you, you knew her schedule and knew she had nothing going on during your guys' break. It was currently Thursday, and the party was on Saturday night, meaning you and Vinny would have to leave in the morning or the night before to make it to his parent's town in time.

Whilst you were sat on your bed looking online for outfit inspiration, you heard a knock at your door. You throw your phone down on the bed and get up to see who was disturbing you.  

“Everything okay?” You ask, letting him in. 

“Yeah, I just wanted to see you.” He smiled, shutting the door behind himself.

“You see me pretty much everyday, Noah.” You laughed, sitting back down on your bed. 

“Yeah, but like you pointed out the other day, the only time we ever get to spend together alone is when you’re under me or pushed against a wall.” He chuckles, sitting with you, his back against the headboard. “I don’t remember the last time we had a proper conversation.”

“You warned me about how busy the tour life is, this just proves it, doesn't it?” You smiled, “I still can’t believe this past month has been real. I’ll never be able to repay Bryan or you guys for this.” 

“I can think of a few ways you can repay me.” Noah smirks, and you shake your head. 

“I thought you wanted to spend time with me without-”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry.” He held his hands up, thinking of a way to change the topic. “I don’t know if I ever asked you how you and Bryan met?”

“Through the photography club at school,” you explain, “I changed schools when I had just turned 14 and I had no friends, we had just moved to a new town, so at lunch I spent my time in the art classrooms and it just so happened they were starting a photography club in the class I’d go to. I wasn’t even that into photography or anything, but that's where I met Bryan. He was quite new to the school too and only had a handful of friends, so everyone who already had their friendship groups would sit together and because we didn’t have anyone we were just put together on a separate table. So over the weeks we finally started talking to each other, and realised we had a lot in common, then we just became best friends from there.” You smiled at the memory, wondering if Bryan still remembered it as clearly as you. 

“It’s weird to think if that never happened you wouldn’t be here right now.” He said, “So you didn’t even want to get into photography?”

“No,” you laughed, “I guess it just sort of happened.” 

“I’m glad it happened,” he smiled, “And I’m glad you’re here.”

As you looked into his eyes, you felt nothing but pure guilt. How could you not tell him about you and Vinny? You were sure he was feeling more for you than he’d let on, and you were about to go to a party with Vinny and pretend to be his girlfriend. 

“Noah, look... There’s something I need to tell you.”

*Buzz buzz*

“Shit sorry I really need to take this-” Noah reached for his phone, answering it and rushing to leave your room. 

You couldn’t say you didn’t try. 

You groaned as he left, reaching for your phone to see if Angela’s replied to your texts yet.

“Ooh what kind of party are you going to ;)”

“I’m not doing anything this afternoon, I could come and pick you up if you want x”

You thought for a moment before you replied to her. You knew whatever Noah’s call was about was probably important, but there’s been countless times where he’s prioritised other things over you. 

“I’m ready when you are x” You replied, leaving your phone on the bed as you went to find a hoodie and a pair of shoes, and then your door knocked again. 

“I’m so sorry that was one of the guys from our record label asking about-”

“Angela’s coming to pick me up in a minute so I’ve gotta go, sorry Noah.” You snapped, not even bothering to look at him as you walk out of your room, shutting the door behind you and beginning to walk away.

“Y/n? Have I done something?” Noah asked, shaking his head in confusion. You stop in your tracks, thinking before you open your mouth.

“Every time I get a chance to spend time with you, or try to talk to you about something serious, something always comes up. I know things like this are out of your control but it happens too often and it pisses me off.”

“Like when?”

“Like when we’re occupied in bed and you suddenly get a call and you leave me laying there to answer it, like when we make plans and you’ve just so happened to forget you had an interview to do, or when we’re out and you see someone you know and you forget I’m even there. I don’t feel seen with you, Noah.” 

“I’m not being funny, y/n, but we aren’t even together. To put it harshly, you always knew the band comes first, and if I remember right you just wanted casual sex, no actual relationship. So why does it bother you so much?”

Your jaw drops in disbelief at his words, he really went there.

“So I don’t mean anything to you?” Your heart was racing in your chest, you felt sick, angry and upset.

“I never fucking said that, did I?”

“You don’t need to say it, I know where I stand with you, Noah.” You argue, and other hotel guests slow down as they walk past, clearly trying to listen in on what’s happening. 

“Can we not do this here?” Noah hisses. 

“Good idea. I’ll see you later, Noah. I’m going out with Angela, because she cares about me, to buy a dress to wear to Vin’s family party because guess what, I bet on anything that he cares about me a whole lot more than you do.”

“You don’t know how I feel about you, y/n.” Noah says, the sound of defeat in his voice. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll see you later, y/n!” He mocks, walking in the opposite direction to you. 

“Noah? What the fuck!” 

He didn’t answer, he didn’t even bother to look at you. 

You groaned, trying not to cry from the frustration, and made your way through the hotel to wait for Angela to pick you up. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“So… What’s the occasion? You never told me when I asked.” Angela asked as you both searched through racks of clothes. 

“Vinny invited me to his parent’s anniversary party.”

“Oh… So not anything slutty, okay…” She giggled. 

“But get this, he told me that his parents think he has a girlfriend, he’s never told him that does or doesn’t, so he wants me to pretend to be his girlfriend for the night.”

“Well that’s a Vinny lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

“What?”

“He totally just said that to get you to go with him so he can show you off. He’s really close with his family, there’s no way they would think he’s dating someone if he hasn’t said he is.”

“Well we’ll see about that then,” you smirk, “But what if I do want to pretend to be his girlfriend for the night, that would definitely piss Noah off.”

“Oh... What’s he done now?” Angela stops looking and turns to you, her hand on her hip. 

“Nothing, yet everything, he’s just really annoyed me." You sigh, "He turns up to my room to spend time with me but then he gets a call and he runs out, it’s not like I don’t know his business, surely he should be able to take work calls around me.”

“It sounds like he doesn’t trust you…” She frowned.

“Exactly!” 

“Oh my god y/n look!” She pulls out a gorgeous red dress, making you gasp, “Try it on! Try it on!” You claps, handing it over to you.

“I don’t know if red’s my colour…” 

“That's even more of a reason for you to try it on and see if it is!” She smirks, “...But I do know it’s Vin’s favourite colour.”

You give her a look, before taking it and heading to the changing rooms to try it on. 

“I think it’s a little tight…” You say as you walk out, and Angela’s jaw drops as you do a little twirl, “What do you think?” 

“I think you're the most gorgeous girl ever!" She grins, "And I think Vinny's going to ask you to be his girlfriend for real when he sees this.” She suddenly gasps, giving you a serious look as she hands you your phone back. “Send a picture to Noah.” 

“Why? He thinks I’m only going as a photographer.”

“What?”

“Vin came up with the plan to tell the guys I was only invited because his parents wanted a photographer, I thought it was a pretty good lie.”

“Vinny came up with that one didn’t he,” she laughed, “I guess they’ll believe it though.”

“Noah did.” You check yourself out in the mirror, and eventually pull your phone out from your bag and take a couple pictures in the mirror. You’d think about whether it was a good idea to send them or not as you shopped for a new pair of shoes. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“It’s actually pretty fortunate for you that there aren’t any shows this week,” you say as Vinny drives, “Did you plan the tour around this?”

“Kinda,” he says, looking over his shoulder as he turns onto his road, you wish you knew how he even made driving look so hot, “It's the longest tour we've done and knew we needed a break each month so we don’t all completely burn out, and it just so happened this weekend was during that break.” 

Vinny thought it would be a good idea to hire a car from the city the guys were staying in for their break from tour to drive back to his house so the two of you could stay there for the night before taking his car and driving down to his parents town tomorrow.

“I don’t think my roommate’s here at the moment.” He says as he pulls up, parking the car in his driveway. 

“Not that it matters,” you chuckle, checking your phone. You had sent the pictures to Noah yesterday, but you hadn’t heard from him since, he hadn’t even seen the messages. “What time have we got to leave tomorrow?”

“Probably around 12.” He says, getting out of the car and unlocking the door. 

You smiled as you walked into his house, it was just how you’d pictured it. Framed awards on the walls and tour posters, a massive tv on the wall and a bong that he made sure to clarify was his roomate's. You turn around to see him bringing both yours and his suitcase in from the car, rather surprised by his strength as you see him carry them both up the steps to his porch with ease. 

“Your house is so cute.” You smile, and by his reaction, he seemed rather offended. 

“Cute?” He raised his eyebrows, as if to say 'seriously?' “Y/n I’m a guy…I live here with a guy… Our house is not cute!” 

“Then how would you describe it?” You chuckle as he shuts the door behind him. 

“I don’t know… Manly? Homely?"

You rolled your eyes, watching Vin put the keys away before he insisted on giving you a house tour, showing you around room by room.

“And this is where the magic happens!” He opens the door to the basement, putting his arm out as if to say ‘ladies first!’

“Do you know how creepy that sounds?” You laugh, slowly descending the staircase to his basement. 

“This is where my drums are, I do my drum streams down here-”

“Can you give me a private show?” You gasped, but to your disappointment Vinny laughed and shook his head. 

“I’ve been playing basically every other night for the last month! Surely you’ve heard enough.”

“Please?” You plead, watching as he tries to hide the smile on his face.

“Maybe later.” He gives in, walking you back up the stairs to his kitchen after showing you around the room. 

“Can I request a song?”

“Depends,” he says, shutting the basement door, “Do I know it?”

“How am I supposed to know what you know, or don’t?” 

“What is it?” He asked, reaching into his fridge, pulling out a sprite. “Want a drink?”

“Yes please,” you smiled, “I heard you played ‘somebody told me’ the night I wasn’t feeling well and stayed on the bus and you haven't played it again after…”

“So you want me to play it for you?” He asked, handing you a drink. 

“Please? I’m coming to your parents’ anniversary party as your fake girlfriend, don’t you think you owe me something?”

“You’ve got a point there,” he acknowledges, “I need to shower first and pack for the weekend, but then I’ll do it.”

“Yay!” You grinned, “Can I take a shower after you?”

“Of course.” He smiled softly, “Also if you want my bed tonight I’ll sleep on the couch. I changed the sheets before I left for tour so they’re fresh-”

“I can’t kick you out of your own bedroom…” You frowned, “I’ll have the couch. I don’t care!”

“I will not let you sleep on my couch.” He chuckled, and a thought crossed your mind. 

“If we were okay to share a bed the first night we met then I’m sure we’ll be okay again tonight, right?”

“If you're comfortable with that then we can.” He smiled, “I’m gonna go get in the shower, then it’ll be all yours. But in the meantime make yourself at home.”

“Thank you.” You said, watching as he left, walking up the stairs. 

You made your way to his living room, getting comfy on the couch and scrolling through your phone. You tried not to think about Noah, but you couldn't help but wish he'd text you back. Whilst Vin was in the shower you considered calling him, but you didn't want to come across clingy. Maybe he just needed to calm down.

"I left my fucking shampoo in my bag." You heard Vinny laugh as he ran down the stairs, a white towel wrapped around his hips as he threw his suitcase onto the sofa beside you and searched through it.

You took a deep breath to calm your mind as you tried to be respectful, but you couldn't help but look at him. His wet curls, his bare chest, the bracelet on his wrist, the veins on his arms... You blinked, trying to concentrate on your phone but he definitely seemed to notice you staring, smirking before he walked back up the stairs.

You already knew it was going to be a long weekend.

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