#I guess if you don’t see the vision you don’t see the vision

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Good Dog.

Pairing: Yandere!SatoSugu x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 5.5k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Pet Play, Wildly Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Bondage, Revoked Consent, Kidnapping, Manipulation, and Rough Sex. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

About half an hour into your first date, Suguru told you that he was an animal trainer.

He mentioned it offhandedly, filling in a blank you hadn’t thought to ask about, but anything more interesting than ‘financial manager’ or ‘digital entrepreneur’ would’ve caught your attention. “It’s nothing exciting,” he explained, smirking at your eagerness to pry. “Dogs and cats, not lions and tigers. It’s a good gig, if you’ve got the patience for it.”

About three hours later, after a main course, a round of drinks, dessert, a second round of drinks, and your waiter politely clearing his throat as he dropped an unrequested, but well-deserved check onto the corner of your table, Suguru asked if you’d like to come back to his place for a drink. You laughed, propping your chin on your fist. “I don’t know,” you started, a teasing drawl in your voice. “You’re sure you’re not one of those charming serial killers, right?”

His eyes darted to the side, his smile quirking. “…if I said I was, would you still come home with me?”

You were on your feet by the time he finished. “I guess I’ll just have to risk it.”

Ten minutes later, you were in the passenger seat of Suguru’s car as he pulled into a sprawling, rustically ornate villa. You fought the urge to whistle as his headlights fell onto outermost facade. You should’ve guessed from the restaurant, but still, you would’ve been impressed by a more-or-less furnished apartment. A countryside mansion was something you hadn’t even known to hope for.

It was only as you pried open your door, one foot already on the ground, that he told you he had a dog.

“You probably won’t meet him,” he shrugged, rounding the hood of the car to your side. An arm was extended and accepted – the gravel driveway quickly proving too much for your pin-prick heels. “Satoru’s a little shy around new people.”

“Satoru,” You repeated, more to yourself than to him. What a strange name for a dog. Must’ve been a purebred. “That’s too bad. I was looking forward to seeing your training skills up close.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry.” He rested a hand on your elbow, squeezing gently. “You’ll get a chance to.”

Admittedly, there wasn’t a lot of blood left in your head to think with, after that.

Your feet had left the ground entirely by the time you reached the porch. Suguru had no problem carrying you, and not having to worry about pesky inconveniences like putting one foot in front of the other meant you had more time to string your arms around his neck and run your fingers through his hair as you divided your attention between his mouth and his throat. You kept yourself occupied, pressing open-mouthed kisses into the latter as he struggled with the lock and stumbled over the threshold. Your back hit a wall before the door was shut, but you were beyond the point of caring, by then.

One of the many things you liked about Suguru was his size. Standing up, he was about a head or so taller than you, and bent over you like this, supporting you with little more than the tension of his body pressed into yours, he seemed to eclipse you entirely; dark hair cutting off your vision, large hands wrapping around your thighs, teeth that were more similar to the fangs of some great, terrible animal than anything human ghosting over the curve of your throat. You felt his chest slot against yours, pinning you against the wall as distracted fingers fumbled with the zipper of your dress, and his head dipped, mouth latching onto the slope of your shoulder in a slow, bruising love-bite. The process was painstaking and noisy, the joint sounds of his breathy moans and your whimpers enough to fill the entryway twice-over. Really, it was a wonder you managed to hear the footsteps at all.

It wasn’t that your attention drifted, just that you couldn’t stop yourself from acting on reflex. You heard padding footsteps, the metal ting, ting, ting of swinging tags, and raised your head, unconsciously searching for a dog, a pet, an animal. And, in a way, you found one. Honestly, it took you a beat too long to realize that what you were looking at wasn’t an animal – lean and pale, peering tentatively around the corner as he made his way down the staircase that led further into the villa. White leather faded into pale skin, crossing over his chest and wrapping around his thighs, supporting a pair of white thigh-high socks and matching paw-shaped mittens. The second worst part was his face; bisected by a titanium muzzle in the shape of a snout. Two white dog ears, the same color as his other accessories, framed his expression on either side, bouncing slightly as he walked.

The absolute worst part was, of course, the erect and leaking cock between his legs.

Suguru must’ve felt you go rigid. With an irritated groan, he pulled away, lowering you gently back onto your feet. He noticed the strange, naked man just as quickly, acknowledging him with a roll of his eyes. You were quickly abandoned in favor of lowering himself to one knee and cupping the naked man’s face, who panted happily in response.

“Satoru,” Suguru mumbled, carding his fingers through the man’s bone-white hair. “I thought you were going to be good and stay upstairs, for now?”

There was a non-verbal response, mostly tail wagging and clipped barks, and you stared blankly at the drooling, leaking man. At Satoru.

You might’ve said something – about a cigarette, or fresh air. You’d never know. You were on the other side of the door before the sound of your own voice could catch you, trudging stiffly to the end of the driveway.

You needed to get out of here. You wanted to get out of here. You kept one arm crossed over your chest while your free hand shot for your phone, a list of a dozen identical rideshare apps already flitting through your mind. You were cursing the lack of available drivers (why hadn’t you noticed how remote this place was earlier?) when you heard gravel crunching under rushed footsteps, Suguru’s airy laugh.

“I know, I know,” he started, while you were still glaring at your phone. “I’m an asshole.”

Colorful language, but not the type you would’ve opted to use, at the moment. “You told me you had a dog.”

“Oh, god, I did, didn’t I?” There was another laugh, a quick shake of his head, like he didn’t fully remember something he’d said all of three minutes ago. “I’m sorry – I just get into character. It’s hard not to, after a few months.”

You didn’t relax, but you didn’t bristle, either. Suguru took the opportunity to go on. “Look, whatever you’re thinking, it’s not like that. I didn’t lie to you about anything. I really am a trainer, and this really is my place. Satoru’s my client.”

You paid him a wary glance. “Client?”

“Mhm. CEOs and rich fuckers with a lot of power and a lot of money to throw around like to turn their brain off, every now and then. Since they can’t risk anyone they’ve been seen with going to the tabloids, people like me get brought in to—” He paused, shrugged. “—help them relax, I guess.”

“You expect me to believe that guy’s a CEO?”

His wry grin widened, sharpened. “Have you heard of the Gojo clan?”

Of course you had. The Gojo clan owned half of every business in Japan. The Gojo clan had enough property to build their own continent.. The Gojo clan--

You pursed your lips. Slowly, deliberately, your phone was powered off and slid back into your pocket, any other plans you might’ve had for it immediately forgotten.

“No.”

“Yes.” And then, with a note of pride in his voice, “Satoru’s the scion.”

“And he pays you to…”

“Pretend he’s a dog,” Suguru picked up, unflinchingly. “Or a cat. Or a maid. It’s pretty flexible. The costumes get a little out of hand, sometimes.”

You’d noticed. “And to lure women back to his mansion and… what? Have sex with them while he watches?”

There was another airy laugh, this one less apologetic than the first. “No, no, it’s not like that. Satoru’s not the voyeur type, and I don’t like sharing the spotlight. I let him know I was bringing someone over, but he probably thought it’d be funny to scare you – catch us both off-guard, y’know?” He flashed you a smile. “I promise, you’re here because I want you to be. That’s it.”

It was a little insulting, honestly – just how unfaltering he was. Part of you felt offended, like he’d accused you of overreacting, but another, quieter, more base faction chided you for being over-dramatic, for storming out like a child having a temper-tantrum. Because it had been childish, hadn’t it been? For as much as he’d surprised you, Satoru hadn’t seemed to be under any kind of duress, and it wasn’t like Suguru had fundamentally changed sometime in the past few minutes. Looking at him now, with his easy smile and tired eyes, it was impossible not to recognize the man who’d come up to you in your favorite coffee shop, practically tripping over your name; the man you’d spent nearly four hours talking to tonight, and enjoyed every second of it.

“…’caught off guard’ is kind of an understatement,” you mumbled, letting your shoulders slump.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I must’ve forgotten he was coming over tonight. I should’ve been more thoughtful.” His shoulders fell. “If you want to call it here, I get it. Just let me grab my keys – I don’t want you in a stranger’s car so late at night.”

It took you a few seconds to find your voice, but when you did respond, it was with a valiant effort to mirror his easy charm. Admittedly, it didn’t come as naturally to you. “And if I don’t want to call it here?”

Suguru seemed to appreciate the effort. “Then I’d ask for a couple minutes to tell Satoru to fuck off,” he started, slowly, his arm finding it way around your waist. He pulled you into his chest, and you let him. “And make sure I’m all yours.”

It was humiliating – how quickly you cracked. As soon as he finished, you sighed, shaking your head. “No, no, you shouldn’t have to do that. I really should apologize to him.” Suguru hummed curiously, and you clarified. “For running out like that, I mean. It might’ve been a little rude.”

Suguru chuckled, kissing your forehead. “If you say so, sweetheart.”

He held your hand as he led you back inside, the door left ajar from your hasty exit. Satoru was waiting in the entryway - still uncomfortable exposed, but sitting cross-legged with Suguru’s jacket draped over his shoulders. You made a point of keeping your eyes on his collarbones or above, just in case.

“’toru,” Suguru called, affection thick and honey-sweet in his tone. Immediately, Satoru perked up, ambling to his feet, and you did your best not to flinch as you noticed his height, his piercing eyes, the sculpted muscle wrapped around his arms and legs. There was no scenario wherein you would’ve been nonplussed to find out your date was engaging with niche, dubiously sexual roleplay with the heir to the largest trust fund on this side of the planet, but having a less imposing image to associate with that realization might’ve helped to soften the edge.

“I want you to meet (Y/n),” he went on, the embodiment of nonchalance. You straightened, and Satoru cocked his head to the side, evaluating you. What he was looking for, you couldn’t imagine. You wished he would take off that muzzle – at least, then, you might be able to find something a little more human in his expression. “And (Y/n),” Suguru paused, nudging your side. “This is my puppy, Satoru. The one I told you about.”

You forced yourself to smile. Satoru stared at you for a long second before bowing his head, and you took the signal – bringing your hand up to pet him the same way Suguru had, watching as he melted into your palm. It was a little too easy to let the last of your anxiety wash away, an odd sort of confidence taking its place. This wasn’t so bad, not when you knew what to expect. Maybe you’d ask Suguru if Satoru had any friends with similar interests and similar numbers in their bank accounts.

“Suguru didn’t mention how pretty you were.” You let your voice lilt up into that light, cloying sort of baby-talk. With the way they were both acting, it was a little hard to remember you weren’t talking to an actual dog. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

“Careful, now. He’ll get a big head.” He squeezed your hand gently and tugged you towards the staircase. “C’mon – I know where we can get a little privacy.”

Satoru whined, but didn’t attempt to follow you as Suguru guided you up a spiraling set of stairs and into a long, blank hallway. Suguru’s home (Satoru’s home? Their home?) was remarkable unlived in, intentional decoration sparse and the clutter of everyday life entirely absent. It might’ve been off-putting if you’d been able to focus on it, but Suguru seemed eager to distract you, pawing at your waist and stealing kisses every few steps. You counted doors half-heatedly as you passed, and somewhere between eighteen and twenty-three, Suguru pulled one open and ushered you inside.

The bedroom was less non-descript. A king-sized, four-posted bed dominated the space, the sheets a sea of red satin to contrast the black, void walls. The bare necessities were littered sporadically throughout the room – a half-empty glass of water on a bedside table, a white towel hanging from the knob of the closet door, etc. The messiness was almost calculated, things left out on purpose to feign disregard. The only thing that seemed genuinely out of place was the long, braided cord looped around the upper right bedpost, so well-used that it’d ground into and softened the wood underneath. Suguru didn’t seem to notice it, so you decided against saying anything. If you were lucky, it could be useful later on.

It wasn’t like you had much of a chance to talk, anyway. There was a specific sort of fragile, uneasy tension between you and Suguru, and it never seemed to last very long when you two were alone together. The door was shouldered closed hastily, and then, his hands were on your hips, his mouth on the side of your neck. “I’ve been looking forward to this.” And then, with an airy chuckle, a nip to the corner of your jaw, “Thought I was going to have to bend you over in that fucking coffee shop.”

The humiliating part was, had he asked, you probably would have. There was no reason he should have to know that, though. “I’d say to buy my dinner first, but—” His teeth digging into the curve of your throat, a hitch in your breath. You forced out a chirping laugh as he sucked and lapped at your neck. “—I guess you beat me to it, huh?”

Suguru’s only response was a low grown, ten fingers burrowed into your waist. You started to shrug off your jacket, but Suguru was just a little faster, just a little more eager; jerking the article down with one hand while the other wrapped around your midriff. You’d known how big he was, loved the way his body measured up to yours, and yet, you couldn’t seem to suppress the little gasp that escaped your lips as you were pulled off of your feet and thrown onto the center of his bed, to ignore the fear that knotted in your chest as he loomed at the foot of the bed – hastily dragging his shirt over his head. You watched him undress with a lazy type of indulgence, more than happy to sit back and enjoy a free show. Honestly, you’d almost forgotten you were supposed to be a part of the entertainment by the time he propped a knee on the mattress and let the full weight of his attention fall onto you.

Against your better judgement, you thought about Satoru as Suguru climbed into the space between your spread legs. You couldn’t seem to imagine how he and Satoru fit together, not that you were very inclined to. It was hard to picture either one of them as very submissive; Satoru with his menacing height and bright, vigilant eyes, or Suguru with his easy smile and feline arrogance. You’d assumed it was a fetish, but you could’ve wrong, right? You’d heard of people who make paperclip chains and chew paper to relieve stress – when you weren’t actively looking at a grown man pretend to be a dog, it really didn’t seem that much stranger.

“Where do you think you’re going, pretty girl?”

Suguru’s voice, deep and saccharine, brought you back to the present. You blinked up at him, smiling. “’m right here.”

“Good girl.” Muscular thighs straddled your waist, and you whined, reaching towards him. Suguru only caught your hands in his, intertwining your fingers with his own. “Do you trust me?”

“I don’t know. You never did tell me if you were a serial killer.”

“And it didn’t stop you from coming home with me.” He squeezed gently. “Which means you do trust me – whether or not you should.”

You hummed, and that was all the confirmation he needed. Your wrists were gathered in one hand while the other reached for the black cord – not as forgotten as you’d thought. Suguru worked quickly, but deftly. A snug slip-knot soon bound your wrists above your head, and you fought the temptation to test the binding’s strength and ruin the moment. It felt slack enough, and more importantly, Suguru was already shifting, moving, gliding a hand down the length of your throat, your chest, before finally cupping your breast, groping harshly.

Unable to do much of anything else, you arched into his touch, earning a breath of a laugh from Suguru. Dark hair veiled his face as he dipped his head, lips sealing around the bud of your nipple. It seemed to be less for your pleasure and more for his entertainment – the way he sucked with such a deliberate amount of force, how slowly he drew the flat of his tongue over your skin, the feather-slight pressure of his teeth against tender flesh. The stimulation was thick and aching, simmering where it should’ve sparked. You might’ve complained if his hand hadn’t wandered to your sex, two think fingers tracing over your slit and gathering the slick that’d been building up since he invited back to his place. Calling you ‘wet’ would’ve been the understatement of the century – you were soaked. Suguru seemed to know that, too.

He lifted his head, grinning as he pulled you into a deep kiss. By the time he drew back, your lungs throbbed in your chest and he’d been reduced to muttering. “And here I was, so scared that you’d try to run away.” The heel of his palm ground into your clit, drawing out a moan muffled only by his proximity. “No, you were never going to leave before you got what you came for, were you?”

You shook your head, bucking into his hand, but Suguru only clicked his tongue. There was another open-mouthed kiss to the curve of your neck (his favorite spot, it seemed), then another the tender flesh just above your collarbone. “You have to tell me what you want, baby. Nicely.”

Two fingers slipped under your panties and into your tight heat, scissoring apart as you moaned and squirmed underneath him. “Please,” you managed, your voice reduced to a pitchy, wavering drawl. “Please, please fuck me, Suguru.”

“That’s my girl.” You felt his fingers curl inside of you and protested with a mewling whine. When Suguru did draw back, it was only to bring his palm down on your cunt in an open-handed spank that left your skin burning and sparks racing straight to your core. You swallowed down any lingering complaints as he fucked you open on three thick digits, focusing the brunt of his energy on thrusting into you with as much depth and as much force as possible with the occasional curl or split of his fingers, whenever you threatened to adjust to his erratic rhythm. Making you cum was a secondary goal; something to be considered, but not planned around. Judging by his brutal pace, the way his dark eyes stayed fixed on your expression, he was more interested in seeing just how long it took to take you apart.

It was a shame you couldn’t hold on longer, really. Suguru might’ve been patience incarnate, but you’d never had that level of self-control. It took less than a minute of his calloused fingers rubbing against the seizing walls of your cunt, of his palm grinding sloppily into your clit before you were clawing at the cord around your wrists, clenching your eyes shut, snapping your thighs together around his forearm as you came undone from seconds of his harsh stimulation. Of course, Suguru nursed you through your climax and of course, he waited until you were coherent enough to hear the humiliatingly wet noise of your cunt clenching around his digits as he drew back. Your reward came in the form of a moment to breathe, a lingering kiss pressed into the inside of your knee as he lowered himself into the space between your legs. His remaining clothes were dealt with hastily – pulled out of the way where they couldn’t be easily discarded – and before long, you felt the blunt tip of his cock tracing over your entrance, his arousal mixing with the aftermath of your climax. Beyond the use of words, you did your best to grind against him and pulled at your restraints, putting up a laughable imitation of a struggle. The corner of Suguru’s lips turned upward. With one hand wrapped around his base and the other planted on your hip, he eased into you, fitting his body against yours until he’d bottomed out.

Immediately, it was too much.

Suguru caught on quickly, too. “This is what you asked for.” Four fingers rapped against your side as he started to move, limiting himself to short, shallow thrusts. You clenched your eyes shut, digging your nails into your palms and muttering distant, abstract curses between moans. Suguru let out a pitying hum. “You’re not allowed to change your mind now, princess. Not after begging so prettily.”

As if you could. As if you’d have any reason to. It felt like he was trying to fuck your throat through your pussy; his hips grating against yours as he pulled out to the tip only to rut back in. It was less the friction that got to you and more the pressure – filling you entirely, battering against your walls, weighing down your body where it was pinned under his. His hands hooked the underside of your thighs and hauled your legs upward, pressing your knees closer to your chest than the mattress. The stretch was incredible, nearly enough to break you. It took everything you had just to open your eyes and stare blissfully at Suguru, his dark hair dripping over his face and pooling around his shoulders, his eyes narrowed into clever, condescending slits. You could see a smirk shining through his slack-lipped groaning, and over his shoulder, something white bobbed—

Something white.

Satoru.

Against your will, your attention slipped away from Suguru and onto him. You could only make out his upper body, but even that was more than you wanted to see. The bedroom door had been nudged open, and Satoru leaned against the frame, head cocked to the side and glassy blue eyes fixed on the bed. One of his arms was angled strangely, reaching for something below his navel, and you swore, even with the sound of Suguru’s skin crashing into yours, you could hear him panting. You’d assume that the muzzle would’ve done more to muffle it, but guess not.

You didn’t say anything, but the horror written across your expression was obvious. Suguru slowed, then stopped entirely, scowling as he looked over his shoulder to follow your gaze. His reaction was reserved, minimal. A sigh of a scoff, a slight shake of his head. You waited for him to get angry, to tell Satoru to leave, or better yet, to panic, to throw a sheet over your body and do anything but let his pervert of an employer keep jerking off to your exposed, vulnerable form. Instead, he only straightened, pulling to the side as if to show that much more of you off. “Your turn already, puppy?”

Satoru didn’t nod, didn’t respond, and Suguru didn’t wait for him to. Whatever mutual understanding they had between them didn’t need to be spoken aloud; it was enough for Satoru to step forward and Suguru, half-swallowing a moan, to pull out of your cunt. You couldn’t help but feel relieved, your point of connection having abruptly gone cold.

That relief was quickly replaced by stiff, frigid dread as Satoru shuffled forward, into your direct line of sight. Most of his get-up had been abandoned, leaving only his ears, pawed gloves, and of course, that terrible muzzle. Somehow, the subtractions seemed to make him less human – like he’d gone from a man pretending to be a dog to a dog pretending to be a man. Suguru didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t seem to care. There was one more squeeze to your thigh, and then Satoru was pulling himself to the headboard, positioning himself beside you. Unceremoniously, you were turned onto your stomach, your bound wrists positioned awkwardly above your head and your elbow prodding into the mattress. Your ass was dragged upward, your knees forced underneath you. Unsure of whether trying to kick out would salvage what was left of your remaining dignity or humiliate you further, you held the position.

This time, the way you jerked and thrashed against your restraints wasn’t playful. The knot had been loose enough to slip a few minutes ago, but as soon as you exerted any real amount of force, it seemed to constrict; soft rope digging into your wrists, cutting off your circulation. You felt the mattress dip behind you, heard Satoru’s rhythmic panting through the metal of his mask. Desperately, you looked to Suguru.

“R-red,” you stammered, hoping the edge in your voice would make up for the lack of an established safe-word. “Black. Pineapple. Stop. I’m not good with this, Suguru.”

Satoru’s knees on either side of yours, the dull head of drooling cock against your ass. You felt Satoru’s tip drag over the curve of your ass, streaking your skin with arousal. Suguru hummed. “But, you’ll grin and bear it, won’t you? ‘toru’s been looking forward to this all day.”

It was awful, how little his tone had changed. If it hadn’t been for the spare man now looming over you, the terror forming knots in your chest, you would’ve thought he was still making mindless dirty talk.

“I never—” Your voice caught in your throat as Satoru whined, needy and keening. Animalistic. “I don’t want to do this.”

His attention flitted between you and Satoru, never quite landing on either. “You’ll come around,” he decided, eventually. “Just like Satoru did.”

Something cold and stiff stabbed into the center of your back. At first, you wondered if that was what fear – true fear – always felt like, made more vivid by tangible betrayal and the sudden awareness of your own stupidity, but then, you realized it was only the lower edge of Satoru’s muzzle digging into your skin as he laid himself over you, and that made more sense.

Satoru was not like his owner. Suguru hadn’t been gentle, but Satoru seemed to operate on something deeper, something baser, something that didn’t give him time to breathe between forcing his cock into your sensitive cunt and his first thrust. Actually, calling it a thrust at all might’ve been too generous – he never seemed to want to pull away from you, only rut deeper, only grinding against your ass as he moaned and whined and drooled against your neck. Eventually, his chest pressed into your back, his head falling over your shoulder. You tried not to look at him, to disassociate where you couldn’t physically separate, but it would’ve been impossible to block out the way his prying eyes seared into your skin. “So pretty.” The metal distorted the exact shape of his tone, but something cloying made it through the fog. “Been waiting forever for Suguru to pick. Knew it had to be you, though. It was always gonna be you.”

You didn’t respond, but Suguru did – laughing brightly. While Satoru did his best to beat your pussy into the shape of his cock, Suguru swung his legs off the side of the bed, turning away from you as he fetched something out of the nearest bedside table. “I’m sorry,” he said, straightening back up. “I knew Satoru needed someone to keep him company while I was away, but I couldn’t bring home just any stray – he’d tear them to pieces. You were perfect, but holding ‘toru off for the months it took to prepare…” He trailed off, smiling fondly. “He’s overeager at the best of times. You can imagine what it was like – trying to tell him he had to wait to meet his kitten.”

He was lying. He was lying and he wasn’t even trying to hide it. You hadn’t known Suguru for months, you’d known him for days. There’d been a meet-cute and everything – you’d stayed at your favorite café for an hour longer than you could really afford to just to catch his eye, and he’d stuttered the first time he’d said your---

Your name.

He’d known your name.

The stabbing sensation was back. You didn’t think it was Satoru, this time.

You opened your mouth – maybe to sob, maybe to scream – but all that came out was a fractured, airy squeak. Satoru’s dick twitched inside of you, and suddenly, you were aware of just how erratic his pace had grown, just how stifling the heat rolling off of him had gotten. You clenched your eyes shut a moment before it happened, keeping them that way as something too terrible to name was pumped into you in hot, smoldering strokes. When the last spark of his climax faded, Satoru went limp against you, cuddling into your back, but Suguru was quick to chide him with a click of his tongue.

“Bad puppy.” You saw him reach for Satoru’s head, hear something metallic and taut click out of place. “Clean up your mess. Then, we’ll have you meet your kitten properly.”

Satoru grumbled, but didn’t disobey. Dragging your unresponsive body onto its side, he nestled his head between your thighs and dragged the flat of his tongue over your slit, lapping up the remnants just beginning to drip down your thighs with a tired sort of enthusiasm. Suguru shook his head wistfully. “He can be such a brat, but he means well. Ah – can you pick your head up for me, baby?”

When you failed to so much as try, Suguru cooed. “I guess you wouldn’t be.” And then, cupping your cheek, “You’re going to be a delicate little thing, aren’t you?”

“…I’m not a thing,” you spat, but it didn’t matter. He was already fitting something onto your head – a headband, the weight balanced by two off-set ears near the rounded peak. The collar was next, heavy and decorated with bows and ribbons that scratched at your throat. You were struck with the inexplicable and irresistible urge to try to claw it off, but your bound hands saved you from the humiliation.

It took you a few seconds to put a name to the last item. Made of a pale pink leather, it had an odd shape – like a cup someone had accidently made wider than it was tall. Studded straps stretched from each corner of the opening, and Suguru’s hand fell away from your cheek as he fitted it to your lower face, The upper strap was pulled tight, then the lower, until the leather pressed snugly into your skin. You started to open your mouth, but shut it just as quickly.

You should never have bothered to wonder. There was only ever one thing it could possibly be.

A muzzle.

[formulawolff]

“so soon” — d.r.

pairing -> fem!reader x daniel ricciardo

word count -> {typed this on my phone… oopsies!}

warnings -> fluff, light cursing, mentions of loneliness, mentions of long distance, excessive pet names

a/n -> currently suffering because my favorite driver isn’t even a driver anymore. this is my coping mechanism.

“you look so silly right now.”

the corners of his lips twitch, curling into a quaint smile. dimples follow in suit, his eyes squinting ever so slightly. in the low light, you catch the sparkle twinkling in his eye as he pans the camera down, showcasing his full outfit.

“do i really?”

headphones rest on his ears, paired with a black embroidered beanie. a windbreaker spans across his chest, the hue matching the beanie. it’s a shade or two lighter, but it complements his curls. the neon yellow drawstrings are tied together tightly, to shield him from the elements.

he’s wearing shorts, ones you wish you could see in person, the hem hitting mid thigh. his tattoos poke out, only reminding you of what was underneath. what was for your eyes only.

he’s prepping for a run, setting you on the island in the kitchen as he performs a few stretches, carefully preparing his calves for what was to come.

a giggle bubbles up in your throat as you snuggle into your pillow, nodding along.

“yes, you look a tad bit ridiculous.”

his brow furrows, accept seeping through his words as he shakes his head.

“no way.”

“you actually look extremely sexy right now,” you exhale, feeling a frown form, “if only i was there with you.”

“we’d be hitting cardio right now if you were,” he shoots you a wink, chuckling as you roll your eyes, “c’mon my love, that was funny. admit it.”

“i guess,” you huff, pulling the pillow against your chest even closer, “i miss you.”

“i miss you more,” you watch as his shoulders slump slightly, “did you do anything fun today?”

“not really,” you mutter, feeling your throat tighten as he tilts his head, gaze fixated on you, “i just went to the store to get a some things. that’s it.”

the lust laced in his tone has now dissolved completely, the australian’s words barely a whisper.

“i know how hard this has been on you, and i’m sorry. i just want to make sure that you’re still getting out and—“

“you don’t have to be sorry,” you voice trembles as your vision blurs, “it just fucking sucks. that’s all.”

“not too much longer now, yeah?” plucking the phone from the table, he brings the camera to face-level, so that your eyes meet with his.

“only two more weeks until i get to hold you. only fourteen days until you get endless kisses. only about three hundred and thirty-six hours until i get to tell you i love you a million times.”

you start to speak, yet you’re cut off by the sound of rain as it patters against the window-pane. a singular tear rolls down your cheek, your attention focused on the streams that slither down the glass, the rumble of thunder sending a shiver down your spine. you can feel him watching you, taking in the way the candlelight bathes your features.

“look at that,” he murmurs, “it’s raining here too. a little reminder that we’re under the same sky. the same sun, moon, and stars. we’re not as far apart as you think, baby.”

“c-can you show me?” you sniffle, wiping away your tear.

“of course baby,” he dips his head, tapping on the screen.

the camera angle flips, adjusting momentarily. he has it angled towards his skylight, the dull roar of the rainstorm flooding your ears. there’s a coziness that seeps into your chest, embracing your heart as your lids droop.

“see?” he comes into the frame, flashing you a dazzling grin as he gestures upward, “we’re not as distant as you think, sweet girl. same rainstorm. just a few states apart.”

situating your phone against your spare pillow, you burrow underneath your comforter, soaking in the warmth, “i love you.”

“and i love you,” he coos, “do you want me to stay on while i run?”

“yes please,” the words are a little slurred, exhaustion taking a hold, “this damn storm is making me sleepy.”

“good,” he chirps, “my pretty girl needs her beauty rest.”

“and my pretty boy needs to be here with me.”

“so soon pretty baby,” his voice is soothing, only encouraging you further and further into slumber, “so soon we’ll be underneath the covers, watching our favorite movie. we’ll be skin on skin, all comfy and cozied up. i’ll be showering you with endless kisses, and all of my love.”

“i can’t wait,” you mumble, lashes fluttering as the door to his apartment creaks, “be safe on your run, danny.”

“of course,” heat flourishes into his cheeks as he glances down at his phone, relishing the sight before him.

you’re buried underneath your comforter, half of your face shielded by swath of fabric. luckily, you blew your candle out, so he didn’t have to fret over that. he was more concerned with the fact that he was not there to hold you, to comfort you.

as he adjusts his headphones, he clicks his volume up, the sound of your breathing coming in through the ear pieces. sure, he could be listening to music. he could turn on a podcast, or find a youtube video so that he could reminisce on the days of the past. weekends spent on the track, dreaming of the taste of victory.

but nothing compared to the sound of you.

you could be doing anything, and he would listen, soaking in every second.

and fuck, how could he ignore how beautiful you were? so at peace. so content as you dozed off. if only he was there to brush the strands from your forehead, to ensure that you wouldn’t be disturbed from your slumber.

he hoped that he wormed his way into your dreams, just so that you knew there wasn’t a minute that passed by where he wasn’t thinking of you.

as his feet hit the slick pavement, the cool air flooding his lungs, he tucks his phone into the pocket of his windbreaker. there was no way he was going to let you get all soaked in rain. especially while you were sleeping. that just wouldn’t be fair.

sure, it was a little childish. a little trivial.

but as long as you were happy, it didn’t matter.

and as his pace quickens, he can’t help but let his mind wander.

of course, it only wandered to you.

oh, how he was ready to see you. his heart ached the thought. he yearned to touch you. to kiss you. to wrap you up in his embrace.

he could though, oh so soon.

he was anticipating that moment. the moment where he would get to sweep you up off your feet, lost in your own little word.

he would get to soon enough.

oh, so soon.

[seitmai]

Omg finally making my way through my drafts and finishing the comments to all of the chapters so far, better late than never, I guess 😬🤦🏻‍♀️

Steve needed what Bucky had in his life. At first he thought he was jealous. His best friend had an extremely desirable woman who made him drop the player lifestyle the instant he saw her. It took Steve a minute, but he realized he wasn’t jealous of either Bucky or his girl; Steve was jealous of the feeling.

Of course he is

“Bucky, I get it. Believe me I do. But we’ve already tripled the rate of divestiture. Are we to quadruple it? Is it really worth the money we’ll lose?” “I don’t think you get it at all, Steve. But you will one day.“

Maybe soon 👀

“Billionaires shouldn’t exist anyway.” Steve sighed.

“Calm down. I will finance little Amina Rickard’s monthly tuition before you cuss me out. You know I love you. And you knew sending me that picture of her was gonna work. Making my ovaries explode.” You smiled, almost choked up.

That's a marketing strategy for sure 🤷🏻‍♀️

Steve was convinced that the strip of stomach showing between your hoodie and your sweats was more alluring than any stripper outfit could be, because at the sight of it he broke out in a sweat. Your body was calling him to touch, but he didn’t even know who you were.

🤭🤭🤭

“Did you see the new bartender? Just put him on stage, I’ll climb him like the pole.” "Dat azzz tho."

Some would say that it's America's ass 🤭🤷🏻‍♀️👀

Your skin glowed everywhere,and he noticed that you didn’t seem to have augmented anatomy, not that there was anything wrong with that. He just knew that if he had a handful of that ass, it would be real. He stepped behind the bar to watch you, a convenient barrier between you and Steve’s stiffening cock.

He probably was never happier to be mistaken for a bartender 😅

Next, you straightened up and walked around until the pole was nestled in between your asscheeks, widened your legs and undulated on it. Never in Steve’s life had he wanted to be an inanimate object until now.

🤭🤭🤭

His body was lithe, but muscular, and you sensed his power. You bet he could pick you up and hold you upside down as that beard scratched the inside of your thighs to lick your… Wait. Where did that thought come from? You were objectifying your new co-worker.

Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do to get through a work day 🤷🏻‍♀️

‘Dont beg here,’ is what you wanted to say. You don’t know why the vision of this man on his knees for you flashed in your mind. Maybe it was his velvet baritone, or maybe it was the feel of his rough hand on yours that got you all bothered, as if his smile hadn’t already made you wet.

I get it 😮‍💨

“There’s a stack in here.” “Whoa! Cool.” Steve tried to look as if he didn’t know there were exactly 10 hundred dollar bills that he’d put in there.

He's like: "yeah totally no clue how much is in there " 👀

You turned and walked out of Regine, a certain warmth in your chest. Must the $1700 in your bag. Or the chicken wings. Nothing to do with the beautiful man you knew was watching until you got into your car.

How can you not feel great with the combination of all three things?

Peach, Part I

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is Bucky Barnes' fest friend and business parter in crime. He has decided to get out of the life with Bucky, not for love, but because it's the right thing to do. You are a struggling dance teacher in Atlanta. And what is the quickest way for a dancer to make money in the A? When Steve meets you at one of his businesses and lies to you about a myriad of things, It becomes a sticky situation, especially since the attraction you feel for one another is so sweet.

Word count: 3.5 K

Pairing: Bartender/ Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: Okay. I can explain. Yes, I got carried away with this one too, but have you met me? It's what I do. I feel like we're gonna get a little more angsty with these two, but the payoff might be good. Idk, I just hope that you like it!

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and comes a couple of months before the Bucky Barnes fic You've Got me Thinking. I'm so done for with Steve and Peach. The next part is coming by the end of the week! ☺️

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, angst, financial difficulties, cute tiny dancers, familial feelings, feelings about besties being in love (third wheel?), Steve the businessman, shady people, Steve lying, Steve using an alias, a lil bit of voyuerism (involving dancing) exotic dance life; pole dancing, wild thoughts, flirting, hand holding. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

———

Late October

Steve Rogers was frustrated.

His best friend Bucky had recently fallen in love, and instantly Steve’s life became an urgent race to divest their Art business of illegal ties so that Bucky could begin his life with her.

Together with Sam and Natasha, Bucky and Steve ran an art import business in New York which was extremely lucrative.

Except that it wasn’t really.

“Just wait until I see you tonight, Frumoasă….”

Steve glanced over at his bestie, who was turned away and whispering into the phone with a giant grin on his face. Steve shook his head and looked out of the window of the car that Nico was driving uptown to a meeting. He rolled his eyes.

More phone sex with Bucky and his girl. Great.

“Behave. Or I will make you…”

Steve cleared his throat as he listened to the suggestive chatter and shifted in his seat. Bucky and his girl were burning hot.

All of the time.

It seemed impossible.

“I love you too, Frumoasă.”

Steve needed what Bucky had in his life. At first he thought he was jealous. His best friend had an extremely desirable woman who made him drop the player lifestyle the instant he saw her. It took Steve a minute, but he realized he wasn’t jealous of either Bucky or his girl; Steve was jealous of the feeling.

When Bucky ended the call, Steve tried to continue the conversation they were having.

“Everything good?”

Bucky smirked, a look on his face that Steve hadn’t seen before his best friend met the love of his life just weeks earlier. It was an amazing transformation.

“Everything is great.”

Then Bucky frowned.

“Except this timeline. We need to get clean, Steve. Faster. We’re going to have to travel a little more before the end of the year.”

The blond raked his hand over his face.

“Bucky, I get it. Believe me I do. But we’ve already tripled the rate of divestiture. Are we to quadruple it? Is it really worth the money we’ll lose?”

“I don’t think you get it at all, Steve. But you will one day. “

Bucky gave Steve a look that made him roll his eyes again.

“I’ll take the losses, Steve. You and Sam and Nat will get the agreed upon cut.”

Bucky gazed out of the window.

“Billionaires shouldn’t exist anyway.”

Steve sighed.

“We all agreed to speed up, and we all agreed to an equal split of the profits. And losses.”

The two men shared a knowing look. Steve assented.

“Okay, Buck. Let’s get Sam and Nat on the phone; I just want it all to be square. You know they want this just as much as you and I do.”

Bucky smiled at his friend, the oldest he had in the world.

—--

Early November

You smiled at little Amina, who was trying her best on her pliés. Although she was only four years old she had a determination like no other. Her little tongue was poked out and there was a scowl on her adorable little face.

You came over and smooth her brow and took her tiny chin in your hand.

“Relax, Mina. If you’re not having any fun, it’s not worth it. Don’t force it, sweetie.”

Amina smiled back at you and began to giggle, relaxing into the poses.

“See there! It’s better already!”

You widened your smile and spoke to the entire class of 12 little 4-6 year olds. They were adorable in their uniform black leotards and pink tights.

“Remember dancers, hard work and lots of fun, that’s our motto. And one, two, three….”

Amina’s mom, Michelle, came up to you after class.

“Here’s what I have Ms. YLN.”

She deposited half of what monthly tuition was into your hand and held it for a beat. Her eyes were watery but she had a brave smile on as she glanced over at Amina giggling with her classmates. Then, she lowered her voice.

“I’m afraid this will have to be her last class. I just can’t come up with the funds… She loves it so much… We’ll miss seeing you every week.”

Your heart shredded. You made a knee jerk decision.

“It doesn’t have to be her last class. I will send you the paperwork for the scholarship. I’ll see you both next week.”

You smiled and gave both her and Amina a hug as she skipped over to you.

“Thank you, Ms. YLN. So much!”

You smiled and nodded as they left the dance studio that you rented for your weekly classes. The tuition you collected barely allowed you to pay the rent, much less compensate you for your time and preparation.

But you were determined to help these little ones with their dreams. And to see your own to fruition.

—--

“You can’t keep letting these people put dance classes on layaway, Cousin.”

Heat bloomed in your chest. Your favorite cousin, who had everything she ever wanted, whenever she wanted, growing up was joking about layaway. Even now, she had an insanely hot, wealthy guy eating her up. Literally.

“Okay, you know what…”

“Calm down. I will finance little Amina Rickard’s monthly tuition before you cuss me out. You know I love you. And you knew sending me that picture of her was gonna work. Making my ovaries explode.”

You smiled, almost choked up.This was your cousin’s second scholarship student and your family’s 8th overall. You were really blessed, even though things hadn’t come easy for you.

“I think the guy who is trying to breed you all over the place is making your ovaries explode, but okay.”

“Y/N, YLN! I am a demure, respectable–”

“You’re a whore for that man and we both know it.”

“Girl, you ain’t lyingggg! Shit, he’s calling me now…”

“Go get that nut video.”

Your cousin laughed at you.

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, and thanks, Sistercuz.”

“Bye Sweetie. Have a good night.”

Easy for her to say.

—---

The jet was delayed in New York because of snow and Steve was late getting started. After he landed and was sat in Atlanta traffic, he was reminded that he wanted to be in and out of the city, preferably in two days, and on to Kansas City as soon as possible.

Atlanta could be a fun time, with many many beautiful women, but he was on demon time. He needed to get rid of the criminal enterprises in the company. Quickly.

The holdings in Atlanta consisted of a handful of exotic dancing establishments. And the strip clubs in Atlanta were known to be dens of considerable iniquity. He was sure it would be easy to make a decision to offload the five clubs in the area.

On the second day, Steve had quickly turned a profit on the first four clubs, borderline dives with mid-level girls. The drugs and prostitution levels were off the charts and there were plenty of shady characters who wanted a chance at those businesses.

He’d saved ‘the best for last,’ a supposedly upscale club called Regine in midtown.

It was supposed to be a classy place, so Steve decided to just drop in to check it out before making a decision. He arrived a little over an hour before opening, stepping into the kitchen from the back alley where he parked his rental car.

“Hey, yo! You the new bartender? I told you to be here at 2, not 2:45.”

The salutation came from a huge guy with a large belly and lots of teeth. He’d be scary to anyone else. This must be Sully. Steve recognized him from the file. He decided to play along, glad that he’d dressed down in a flannel and jeans.

“Yeah, well. Traffic.”

Steve thought it best to say as little as possible. That way he would get the most information.

“Shit, you don’t have to tell me. I have to drive here from Alpharetta every day. The 400 is hell every morning.”

“We need someone with some experience. Someone willing to be paid in cash tips, nothing on the books. You look like you’d prefer that.

Steve stared Sully down, not debunking the myths the latter was making up in his mind. Sully kept talking.

“Also may need to do some security. We get into some… situations up in here.”

Sully took in Steve’s stature and unwavering stare.

“A man of few words I see, Looks like you’ll do. Can you start tonight?”

Steve couldn’t believe this joker, hiring someone off the street.

“Sure.”

This place was not looking like a keeper, Steve thought as he followed Sully for a tour. In daylight, it was passable; in the dark with the right lighting, he was sure it looked swank. Sully told him how to water down the liquor and where the firearms were kept. When his 30 minute orientation was over, Sully left Steve to set up the bar on his own.

“Cory just called in, but Mike will be in later. You should make a lot of tips, our girls are top notch.

Steve just nodded, his hands on his hips as he calculated how much Sully must be skimming off the liquor alone as the latter walked away. Sully came back to the bar and asked a pertinent question.

“Oh yeah. What's ya name?”

“Grant Stevens.”

A little white lie would never hurt anyone, especially if this situation got sticky.

“Aight. Nice to meet you Grant. Tips are not the only perks of this job, if you know what I mean.”

Steve shuddered as Sully lumbered away. He wanted no parts of perks.

—-

A couple of hours later, the girls started arriving, most of them greeting Steve with a polite hello, some skipping it with a grimace, some in their phones, and one, you, listening to music and vibing out. You were different than the weary women who’d passed by ahead of you.

Steve was struck at the serene look on your face as you entered the establishment, braids in a bun on top of your head, eyes closed and your mouth pursed as you hummed and bopped your head to the music, bag slung across your back.

Your skin was dewey, free of make up and those lips, well those lips was what made him do a double take. Your neck was graceful and the cropped hoodie you were wearing did not do a thing to hide your full curves, smooth skin, round tits, long legs, and all that ass. Steve’s palms began to itch.

Steve was convinced that the strip of stomach showing between your hoodie and your sweats was more alluring than any stripper outfit could be, because at the sight of it he broke out in a sweat. Your body was calling him to touch, but he didn’t even know who you were.

He was about to find out however.

Steve stepped to the edge of the bar, ready to give a greeting, but you just bopped on by, oblivious and making your way to the dressing room. It bruised his ego, but the sting was soothed by the sight of you walking away. He stood there for a full minute in shock, but then he shook his head and went behind the bar to drink some water.

“Get it together old man,” Steve grumbled to himself as he tried to cool down. He set about talking to the employees in the kitchen to get more intel on this establishment. The sooner he had enough info, the sooner he could put this one to bed and get away from distractions.

Like you.

—--

“Did you see the new bartender? Just put him on stage, I’ll climb him like the pole.”

"Dat azzz tho."

“Right? And did you see those eyes, those lips? Pretty fly for a…”

You frowned at the chatter around you. You really had to pay more attention to your surroundings. You didn’t notice any new bartender. But knowing these ladies’ taste in romantic partners, you’d bet he was overrated.

You sighed and put your earbuds back in; there was no time for nonsense. You had to warm up properly to protect your instrument: your body.

You looked down at your watch and saw that the doors would open in 45 minutes. You had 20 minutes to go and warm up and still have time to get changed. You sat down to trade your Jordans for your stilettos and make your way out to the pole.

—-

When Steve walked back to the bar from the kitchen, there you were on stage under the lights in a crop top and short shorts.

Again, you were oblivious to him.

Steve, on the other hand, was undone.

Your skin glowed everywhere,and he noticed that you didn’t seem to have augmented anatomy, not that there was anything wrong with that. He just knew that if he had a handful of that ass, it would be real. He stepped behind the bar to watch you, a convenient barrier between you and Steve’s stiffening cock.

As he watched, you moved slowly, the motion elegant and mesmerizing in the six-inch heels you were wearing which elongated your beautiful legs.

Lost in your own world under the lights, you looked ethereal, a goddess.

You approached the pole and held on with one hand, walking around and around it seductively, hopping a few times in the heels, making your ass shake with the impact. It was hypnotizing, watching your strong arms and legs, especially those legs, grip the pole as you worked your body around it.

Then, you let your hands slide down the pole, causing you to bend over and showcase your luscious ass and thighs. Steve imagined that they tasted delicious.

Next, you straightened up and walked around until the pole was nestled in between your asscheeks, widened your legs and undulated on it. Never in Steve’s life had he wanted to be an inanimate object until now.

When you turned around and body rolled on the pole was when Steve had to grip the bar. And when you slowly twirled down to the floor and went spread eagle, beautiful legs in the air, was when he felt like vaulting over the marble bar to get to you.

You rolled over onto your knees and started undulating, then started crawling toward the end of the stage closest to him.

Steve knew the exact moment you noticed him.

You froze, looking like a startled feline. Squinting, you moved your hand over your eyes so you could see beyond the lights, then pulled out your earbuds and got to your feet effortlessly.

—--

You thought you were alone with your music and your fantasy of dance that got you in the headspace to strip for strangers. You didn’t notice anyone out in the club until you were almost done with your warm up routine, when, as you looked up from the floor you saw a large figure behind the bar.

You froze, a moment of something like fear, but more like a thrill, passing through you.

As your eyes adjusted to the area beyond the lights, you saw a tall, muscular body and longish hair. This must be the new bartender. You got up and approached him, trying to analyze your feelings about the situation before you addressed the man.

As you got closer, your temperature seemed to rise. Must’ve been the workout.

His warm denim blue eyes were gorgeous and that dark blond hair and reddish beard were thick and lustrous. Although the beard was a bit wild and wooly, there was no hiding the pink, full lips under that straight, masculine nose.

His body was lithe, but muscular, and you sensed his power. You bet he could pick you up and hold you upside down as that beard scratched the inside of your thighs to lick your…

Wait. Where did that thought come from?

You were objectifying your new co-worker.

That would never, never do. You vowed to be professional.

—-

Steve straightened up as you came near. The look on your face was hard to read. Whatever it was you were feeling, Steve felt like an intruder.

Even though he had the deed to this building in his bag.

“Hi.”

It was all he could think of to say as you stood before him because his mind was empty. With you up close, the only thing he could do was stare. Your scent was like a drug and our eyes were…everything. He gazed into them, a myriad of colors that holding him captive.

Then that mouth started moving.

“Hello. You the new barback?”

“What?”

Steve leaned closer, pretending he couldn’t hear you, just to get closer. It wasn’t entirely game; he was quite distracted by you.

The side of your mouth curled up in a sardonic smile and a sudden, funny feeling spread throughout his stomach. He gave you a side grin in response to your side eye.

“Are… you… new… here?”

“Yes, I am working in the bar. I’m Steve…ns. Grant Stevens.”

You extended your hand to him.

“Nice to meet you Grant. I’m Peach.”

“Peach?”

The word gave Steve visions. He stared at your lips, thought of your ass, imagined your juices dripping down his chin.

“Yes,” You smirked. “Peach.”

Steve was speechless.

“It’s nice to meet you. Since you’re new here and probably haven’t gotten paid yet, I won’t charge you for the private dance.”

Steve’s mind was moving slowly. Like he was drugged.

“That’s a stage name, right?”

Peach. It had to be a stage name. Yet it suited you so perfectly. Suddenly he wanted a taste test.

Steve licked his lips and your eyes followed his movement as you proceeded to not answer him. He unconsciously started stroking the back of your hand with his thumb and gave you his full smile.

You grew even warmer, from the friction of course, and blinked at him as if you were facing sunlight as you pulled your hand from his.

“Forgive me. I’m sorry for eavesdropping? Spying? Watching you dance without you knowing? Don’t know what to call it. But beg your pardon.”

—--

“Don’t beg.”

‘Dont beg here,’ is what you wanted to say.

You don’t know why the vision of this man on his knees for you flashed in your mind. Maybe it was his velvet baritone, or maybe it was the feel of his rough hand on yours that got you all bothered, as if his smile hadn’t already made you wet.

He was tall, a good head taller than you, even in your heels, and a looming presence. In a good way. You wanted to be enveloped by him. But you didn’t even know him.

You had to get it together, but the scent of his cologne was making your mouth water to taste him. You were weak for this man.

You hated this feeling, didn’t have time for it, yet you weren’t ready to end the conversation just yet.

“I mean, I felt some kinda way when I first saw you here, but hell, I don’t own this place. And neither do you.”

For some reason, Grant’s face did a thing. A weird frowny sad thing, but you barrelled ahead.

“You’re a worker, just like me, and you were just getting your work station ready, just like me. Solidarity, man.”

“Yeah. Solidarity.”

Grant cleared his throat.

“Great moves up there.”

—---

You grinned, blinding him this time. Steve’s discomfort that his ‘little white lie’ was spreading to you dissipated when you smiled at him.

He just knew that your smile could heal any ailment, if he were allowed regular doses of it for the rest of his life.

“Thanks, friend. They make me a lot of money three nights a week.”

You pushed off the bar and started walking back to the locker room as Steve chuckled at your immediate friend zoning.

“And if you like that, stick around for the show.”

You threw a look over your shoulder that made him want to follow you anywhere.

As he watched you leave again, Steve Rogers knew that he needed a little more time to figure this place out.

—----

Steve was concluding that Regine wasn’t the worst, but nothing extraordinary. The women in makeup and costume looked good and the tips were flowing; he could see how this was a money maker.

He had his suspicions about Sully, but he still had little evidence about the quality of the place. He needed to see all of the dancers.

Steve wanted to see you dance. For research purposes.

He was busy at the bar all night, so much so that Sully had to come by and made four money drops. This place made much more profit than was being reported, that much was clear as Steve’s eyes followed Sully back to his office with the cash.

He was about to follow him when you brushed by him, ensconced all in white.

“Excuse me. Gotta get to the stage, Comrade.”

Your wink distracted him from the fact that you were wearing a ten gallon cowboy hat and boots.

Wait.

Were those spurs?

Mesmerized, Steve leaned on the bar to watch your show.

The stage went dark while the guitars started. There were whistles and stomps from the floor, cries of Yesss! Peach! Go Peach! Ride me Cowgirl, and Pour some liquor on me honey tooooo! reverberated in the room.

These were grown men and women.

And by the time the first line of the song played, “This ain’t Texas…”, the crowd was in a frenzy and in the palm of your hand.

Steve suddenly understood the customer’s enthusiasm.

The way you moved on the stage, your props, the way your body captivated everyone in the place was astounding.

You were brilliant.

You were what made Regine extra ordinary.

—---

You were bone tired by the time 3 am rolled around and the club closed after two full sets. You’d made $700 dollars in tips, not bad for a Tuesday, considering that you didn’t do any private dances. You were yawning as you passed the bar and Steve stopped you to say goodnight.

“Hey Peach. You were fantastic tonight.”

He shook his head.

“It was the first time I’ve seen that prop used on a dance club stage…”

Steve’s eyes glazed over as he replayed the image of you spinning on the pole with the stick of the hobby horse between your legs.

You spared the handsome blond an appreciative glance and a tired laugh.

“Thanks, Grant. I try to be original. Hope you did well tonight.”

“I did pretty good.”

Steve smiled as he would if $500 dollars would excite him.

“Hey, one of the customers at the bar told me to give you this. Said he was shy?”

You looked at him warily as you took the envelope. Inside was $1000.

“Holy Shit!”

You looked up and covered your mouth, your girlish piety endearing to Steve, who chuckled at you.

“There’s a stack in here.”

“Whoa! Cool.”

Steve tried to look as if he didn’t know there were exactly 10 hundred dollar bills that he’d put in there.

“Guy must really like you. Could it be a regular? A special friend? An ex perhaps?”

Steve was not being very subtle, but he didn’t have much time. You were smirking at him in that way again.

“My regulars are regular shmegular degular, and cannot afford to tip me one thousand dollars. Must be a high roller rolling through the A.”

You smiled, but decided you needed to be tough. You straightened and gave the most menacing glare you could manage.

Steve thought you were adorable.

“I don’t know who would have done this. I don’t have any special friends or exes in this city. I’m all work. NO play. In any way. Especially at work.”

You hoped your hard look worked. Grant was certainly watching your mouth as you spoke, so he must have caught what you meant, right? When his eyes flicked up to yours, your knees got weak so you decided you should go.

“‘Night, Grant.”

You turned and walked out of Regine, a certain warmth in your chest. Must the $1700 in your bag. Or the chicken wings. Nothing to do with the beautiful man you knew was watching until you got into your car.

Steve made sure that you drove off safely, and then followed you home as he thought about how efficiently you’d curved him.

Once you went into your apartment, Steve called Bucky and told him that he needed a little more time on this enterprise.

This one was a peach.

-----

Okay. I hope that you liked it! Let me know by reblogging please!

[chris-prank]

Hello

I really like your Atlas and your Jacce

Can you tell me how they would react/take care of Reader if they woke up/showed up for service one day and Reader was sick and unable to play?

Hi to you fellow yandere enjoyers! 😆 I hope my answer was worth the wait!

The only thing I could think about for “service” was like servicing for spicy time? I’m really sorry if that’s not what you meant! (Sometimes my english is no englishing)

CW: Suggestive content and dubious consent

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

Jacce crawled under the covers, ready to put his mouth to good use. But as he was pulling on the rim of your underwear, his action was put on halt by a hoarse voice muffled by the piece of fabric over him. Then a light shined onto his face, making his eyes squint. Once his sight adjusted and you came into view, the man could clearly see the sickly color of your skin.

“I got sick overnight…” A well placed cough followed suit, proving your point.

Jacce gave you an apologetic frown, “I can still do it i-if you want! I don’t care about getting sick if it’s your germs.” As he said it he pressed a chaste kiss against your inner thighs and kept up eye contact.

You grimaced at his words and pushed his head away from between your legs. The man whined at the sudden physical rejection, giving you puppy eyes. How could he say something so cute yet disgusting at the same time?!

“You shouldn’t say stuff like that! Plus I’m not in the mood anymore.” You huffed.

“S-sorry!”

And so, for the rest of the day, you were doted on by your lover, from breakfast in bed to going out to buy all the medicines you needed. Despite your warnings earlier, it still didn’t stop Jacce from stealing you quick kisses every now and then.

Who could have guessed that he got sick three days later.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Atlas’s had everything prepared to a tee. Rose petals leading to your bedroom, a cute revealing outfit on his back, candles to set the mood, etc. Sure you didn’t ask for all of that, but he wanted to make it a memorable night for you. He was showing the extent of his love for you after all. Human courtship was supposed to be this extra… right?

Before the sound of a fist knocking at the door could be heard, the android was already set in position, his sensors having heard your footsteps already from an inhuman distance. He had knelt down, his pale hands resting on each of his exposed thighs. He could feel a slight glitch of anticipation pass through his vision as the door creaked open. Atlas readied himself for your surprise and excited reaction.

As you saw the display before you, you were indeed surprised at first, but it followed suit with a face full of guilt.

“Oh Atlas… ”

Your partner rose up in an instant, grabbing your wrist and bringing his other hand to your forehead. In truth, he didn’t have to do all that, since he had a functionality that allowed him to know the living organism’s body temperature. He still did it every time anyway because it made him feel closer to you. He swore that this morning your metabolism seemed fine and yet. He felt as if he should have been more efficient to prevent your health from ending up in this state. Human afflictions were such an unpredictable thing and he hated it.

“Don’t mind the setup, I’ll take down everything.” He swiftly said.

As he backed away, Atlas could feel a warm overheating feeling all over his face and chest, but paid it no mind, surely it was just a reaction from his program to the sudden change of objective. He blew out all the candles laying around and collected them in the process. The heat seemed to spread across his cheeks as he glanced down at his skimpy clothes only to be met with your gaze once he lifted his head up.

“I’ll go change if I make you uncomfort—“

You grinned before he could finish.

“It’s not because I’m sick that I can’t enjoy a beautiful view. Come and relax with me, you can always clean up later, pretty boy.”

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

I really hope this was what you were expecting!

[yoichiin]

isagi yoichi's fluff alphabet !! (from a to k)

as stated, it's a fluff alphabet for isagi!

no notable warnings. gn!reader. fluff. second person pov.

note : first post !! i kind of repeat myself im ngl but it's okay probably. also no j because i couldn't think of anything sillying

a is for activities (what does he do in his free time with you?) :

isagi is somewhat of a simpleton. his life is eat, sleep, soccer so the things he does with you reflect that. if you feel like switching it up, you’ll have to tell him directly.

when he does have free time with you, quiet cozy days in or spontaneous brunches on the weekends are his go-tos. they’re simple, yes, but with yoichi, less is always more. he isn’t the type of person to find value in super extravagant outings and in his mind, the memories that ring loudest are the mundane things that no one else seems to remember. so even though his heart aches when you don’t recall the late night conversations when he fell in love with you for the first time, isagi doesn’t mind. the warm winter naps and simple mornings over not-very-luxurious breakfasts may melt like snowflakes in your memory but as long as you’re content in that moment, it’s all he could ask for.

b is for beauty (what does he find most beautiful in a partner? what is his favorite part, inside and out?):

the simple answer that yoichi says is someone with a nice smile and laughs a lot. the real answer is a bit more complicated. 

as someone who has observed and analyzed his whole life, he’s noticed the kind of glow joy seems to have on people. from the small perk of the shoulders to laughing so hard you feel like throwing up—this phenomena sings to isagi. the existence of real, visible, audible emotion.

when he’s on the pitch with his teammates there’s a fire in every one of their eyes—all-consuming like the sun. it’s that light that pulled him into blue lock in the first place. the joy of victory, of evolution and change. seeing all of these emotions on someone’s face is yoichi’s favorite thing about human connection and he treasures it with his life. 

(and he likes thighs too, i guess.)

c is for comfort (how does he help his s/o when they’re sad or overwhelmed?):

it’s a nice surprise that isagi’s soccer awareness translates well into relationships. he can assess your state immediately and run to your side and comfort you with verbal affirmations. his words are so real and from the depths of his soul, it’d almost be an insult to call them sweet nothings. 

yoichi’s feelings come out as easy as gentle wind upon autumn leaves, even philosophical at times. if you weren’t overwhelmed by your own emotions, you’d be racking your brain a bit trying to figure out his. it gets theoretical to the point where it flies over your head but that’s how you know it’s genuine. no matter how he layers his words, his intentions remain clear. “it is a privilege learning to understand you.”

d is for dreams (how do they picture a future with their s/o?):

before isagi got with you, he had never imagined being in a relationship. not like he didn’t want one but it just slipped his mind. his first love is soccer, through and through. he thought he never needed anything else.

still, his vision has always been simple. win the world cup, become the greatest striker in the world, and now you’re there too. when you’re with such a simpleton, he’ll always have space for you in his future and now that he’s got you, you’re never leaving.

e is for equal (are they the dominant one in the relationship or passive?):

as much as i want to be self-indulgent and say that isagi would be submissive, i think he leans towards being dominant in a relationship.

perhaps before blue lock, when he was unsure of his ideals, he’d follow his partner with no question. but that’s not the person he wants to be. now that blue lock has reassured the things he’s been thinking for years, he likes being in control, leading, and making decisions. he doesn’t disrespect you or dismiss you, of course, but yoichi feels most secure when he voices his opinions freely and decides things for himself. yoichi can lose sight of you at times because of this so your relationship might have to be negotiated to be more equal but in a way where he doesn’t have to compromise his values.

f is for fight (how does he argue? how do you work through your problems?):

while isagi is good at voicing his thoughts, he’s a little too good. his thoughtful words and passionate soccer theories can quickly turn into paralyzing venom when he’s angry and it comes out in hyper-specific insults that pierce some of your deepest insecurities. fights happen infrequently but when they’re bad, they’re bad. he’s not so stubborn that he’ll drag on a fight but he says things so out of turn, it leaves you needing space.

recovering after these arguments takes a lot of time and talking and trying your hardest to understand each other. it’s hard to make sense of everything isagi is thinking because he thinks so much, but know, after all is said and done, he wants you two to come out of these fights stronger.

gentle (how gentle is he, physically or emotionally?):

as good as he is with his words, isagi doesn’t really know much about physical affection. he’s gentle the way a child takes care of a pet or baby, cautious and a bit eager. you can feel his nerves travel up your spine as he hesitantly puts a hand on the small of your back to hold you. though awkward, it just makes it even more endearing.

h is for honesty (what’s something he keeps secret? any rules for honesty?):

isagi doesn’t have any specific rules when it comes to honesty. obviously, he wants you to trust him but if there’s something you want to keep to yourself, it’s fine with him and he’ll do the same. 

i is for inspiration (a trait about him that you might look up to):

how much he thinks. isagi’s mind is an endlessly growing puzzle—a garden of ideas and theories he’s been nurturing like he’s been at it for fifty years. you watch him in awe as he sits studying a match, eyes slightly squinted and nose all scrunched up. yoichi’s constantly redefining and reorganizing his thoughts and you can’t help but giggle when you say something random and he perks up with what you’re sure is a fresh idea. his drive is a beacon not just for his rivals but for you as well.

k is for kiss (what was the first kiss like?):

i imagine your first kiss is after a match. isagi has shot the winning goal and both of you are full of excitement and adrenaline you don’t realize what you’re doing. after swimming past all of his teammates surrounding him and seeing you in the front stands, he’s so overwhelmed he pulls you in for a kiss. it’s warm, exceedingly so, and a little awkward, noses softly bumping against each other. yoichi’s hair is somewhat stringy from his sweat while his face glistens under the stadium lights as you realize what has just happened.

truth be told, he’d been stressing himself out wanting to kiss you and he revealed he’d have rather done it in a smaller, more secluded place but his red cheeks while he bashfully explains himself is too cute that you go in for another peck between his brows.

fin.

[marauder-misprint]

A walk

Series Masterlist

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

1.5k words

cw: fluff

Once again, you are pacing your dorm before a date with Sirius. You had gone back to your dorm to drop off your things and change. And you pace. You can’t figure out why you’re so nervous for a walk. At least last time, it was dread holding you back. It also doesn’t help that you don’t have a Dorcas waiting for you to get your act together and just go. 

“He’s just a guy,” you tell yourself as you stop in front of the mirror. “Just a guy.” 

Just a guy who you recently fell in love with… You take a deep breath, staring at your reflection. You look good. Yes. You are as physically ready for the walk as you’ll ever be. It’s just your brain that’s preventing you from walking out of that door and meeting Sirius outside the bell tower. 

“Alright. Fuck it.”

You pass Regulus in the common room. His eyes follow you and he smirks. He doesn’t know for sure that you’re going to meet his brother, but he does know that most of your friends are in the library and you wouldn’t bother changing out of your uniform to study. You don’t make eye contact with Regulus so he doesn’t say anything. In fact, you don’t acknowledge anyone on your way out. Your tunnel vision blocks all other people out of your mind. 

You can’t help but smile when you see Sirius waiting for you. He’s not leaning against the wall or talking to anyone, just idly standing and gazing up at the sky. 

“Guess you’ll always be waiting on me,” you say as you approach him.

He smiles widely at you. 

“Better than you waiting on me.”

“Why’s that?” you ask as you start walking down one of the paths around the grounds of Hogwarts. 

“Besides that it’s never good to keep a lady waiting?” he asks with a chuckle. “It might make you think I don’t value your time or you. And I do. I don’t want to waste a moment with you.”

“Hmm. Sounds pretty sappy to me.” 

“Maybe so, but that’s what happens when I grow fond of someone.”

“Awww,” you say teasingly. “The great Sirius Black is fond of me?”

“Yes, and it’s good of you to finally acknowledge how amazing I am!” 

“Too bad great isn’t always a positive thing,” you say slyly, giving Sirius a sideways glance and a smirk.

His face shows the offense he’s taken.

“I’m kidding, Sirius,” you tell him with a laugh. “You really think I’d be here if I didn’t like you on some level?” 

“Then what’s so great about me?” 

“You want me to list them off?” 

“Just one thing then.”

“You smell nice.” 

Sirius’ grin just keeps widening with every step you take. He would be bragging to the boys later that you thought he smelled nice, serves them right for making fun of him for his expensive taste in cologne. 

Unlike your walk to Hogsmeade, Sirius doesn’t have his arm around you. You aren’t touching in any way, just walking side-by-side. You both had your hands shoved deep into your coat pockets. You slightly regret suggesting a walk in late December, but at least it guaranteed you privacy. You suppose that someone could technically be watching from an upper window somewhere inside the castle, but your conversations were private. 

“Oh, look! Jobberknolls!” you say, pointing toward the edge of Hogwarts' grounds. “I don’t think they usually come this close to the castle.”

You give Sirius a bright smile.

“Wait here,” you tell him firmly.

Then you slowly walk toward the flock of birds. If you were able to get close enough and acted carefully, you might be able to get some feathers. You stop walking when one turns to look at you. It doesn’t fly away. It chirps and a few more look at you. After a moment, you take another step. They still don’t fly away and that makes your heart soar. Once you decide you are close enough, you adjust your position so you can sit down. All of your motions are in slow motion to not spook the birds. They give you curious looks, only their heads twisting. You know Sirius is watching you but you don’t care. You haven’t interacted with a jobberknoll personally since you learned about them in Care of Magical Creatures. 

To your delight, one hops toward you and you outstretch your hand. It jumps into the side of your hand, which you take as permission to pet it. A few more start to hop toward you as well. Before you know it, you’re surrounded by most of the flock. You don’t pluck any feathers out, partially out of fear they might attack you if you harm them, but feathers that seem to have fallen out are free game. 

You realize you’ve taken a while to get a handful of feathers. You clear your throat and gently push the birds away from you so you can stand up. Putting the feathers in your pockets, you return to Sirius.

“Sorry. I got excited.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s nice seeing you live up to your Animal Person title,” he says, throwing his arm around your shoulder to pull you to his side. 

You don’t mind it. If anything, you appreciate it. This way you can smell his cologne and grow more comfortable under his arm. Your mind has definitely warmed up to the idea that this was a good place to be. 

As you start walking again, you explain all of the uses for Jobberknoll feathers that you know of and everything you remembered about them from that lesson a year or so ago. You start talking about different animals and Sirius tells you about some of the legends he’s heard about them; apparently mooncalves were involved in the resurgence of golden snidgets. Snidgets brings the conversation to quidditch and James and Regulus and all of your friends. 

It’s getting dark as you return to the castle. You haven’t missed dinner so you figure that you’ll skip out on visiting the kitchens. Maybe another time, you thought. 

“You know, Black, if you promise you’ll respond, I think I will write you over break,” you say as he opens the door to let you in.

His face lights up and you feel yourself smiling at him. Gods, how can someone be this attractive?

“You will?” 

“If you promise you’ll respond,” you repeat yourself. 

“Yes, of course, love. It’ll be the highlight of my day!”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheeks as if to suppress your urge to laugh at his eagerness.

“You know, you really are something else, love,” Sirius says.

“Isn’t that why you like me?”

“I mean, I fell for you while trying to get you to like me.”

“Fell for me?”

“Oh, darling, can’t you tell?”

You laugh. “Maybe I want to hear you say it. Fully.”

“I’m doomed. So beyond doomed.”

“Say it, Black,” you tease.

“I’ve fallen in love with you. You’ve made getting you here a challenge but now that you are, Merlin… I really, really want you to stay.”

“You want me to stay, huh,” you repeat with a lilting voice. 

He scoffs but his smile doesn’t dim. “I give a confession of my affection and this, this!, is the response I get.” 

You tsk him. “You’re confession was missing one vital question though.”

He cocks his head at you in confusion. 

“What question?”

“Well, it would just sound silly coming from me since it was your confession.”

“But if you were to ask the question. What, erm, what would it be?”

“Coming from me,” you start to say as you look away from Sirius for a moment. “Sirius, would you do the honors of letting me be your girlfriend?”

He stops walking, staring at you with a dumbfounded look on his face. That question. And you had been the one to ask it. Despite having said he was in love with you, Sirius thought it was too soon to ask. He thought you’d need more time, more dates, something more substantial from him before putting a label on it. 

“You… You want to be my girlfriend?” 

“Sirius,” you groan. “I’m not asking again.” 

“So we’re dating then.”

You nod, once again biting the inside of your cheeks. He sure was an idiot at times, but he made it work. 

“Oh! And just so you know, the offer still stands.”

You give him a confused look. You hadn’t discussed any offers on your walk.

“To visit the Potters over break. To see Padfoot, or me,” he explains. “You could floo in. Or they’ve got a muggle car. We can come get you. Or meet you somewhere.”

“Oh… My parents can be kind of strict about how much I go out… But I’ll see what I can do to convince them.”

As you walk into dinner, you debate if you should tell Regulus about this new development or keep him out of the loop for now. You laugh to yourself as you imagine his reaction if he found out from a Ravenclaw or Mulciber or, really, anyone but you.

tags: @2dloveshp, @yearninglustfully, @made-for-oliverwood, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @hisparentsgallerryy, @itsseaberri, @corawithfanfiction, @devilslittlehelper, @jllyunn, @barnes70stark,

tags: @crowleythesexydemon, @flow33didontsmoke, @navs-bhat, @louweenier, @l0g0phobe,

@ellouisa17, @theendofthematerialgworl, @marina468, @bmyva1entine, @ravisinghs-wife, @azure-drag0ness, @sunowee, @mysteriouslyperfecttiger

The next chapter will be that last official chapter for this series. I might do additional content later on if inspiration strikes. Again, thank you for all the love you have shown this series :)

[maudie-duan]

Series Summary: Harry has been fighting to keep his relationship with Olivia afloat for nearly two years. At what point do you choose to either endure or let the strain of the world defeat his ambitious hopes of a lasting relationship? Or will a single night and a fleeting encounter be enough to change the projection of Harry’s path? Maybe our ‘Mystery Girl,’ Shiloh, will just happen to be in the right place at the right time. 

All Chapters Here <-

A/N: Shiloh and Harry are a little messy, but I think most of us are here for their bullshit, lol. Anywho...enjoy catching up with Shiloh.

Tag List: @howling-wolf97 @sassamanda77 @babegoalsreads @palmettogal508 @indierockgirrl

@lizsogolden @sexymfharriet @pologoonies

Word Count: 3.6K

Warning: Strong Language, Major Angst, Eventual Smut, Emotional.

I took your advice and became obsessed with my therapist. Maybe by the time you read this, enough time will have passed between us, and you’ll be able to forgive my previous idiocy.

Ps. I thought of you in the sun when I made this collection. I hope it brings you joy during your warm holidays.

All the love—H

I slid his note inside my phone case before leaving for New York. Now, he’ll be a secret I carry for miles, a tiny piece of him with me everywhere I go.

I guess I should clarify a few things. I, in fact, did kind of get back together with my Ex for the briefest of moments. In all honesty, it was just sex. The media chalked it up to way more than it needed to be, of course, and I got a few laughs along the way. It’s funny, even though it hadn’t been that long since we dated, a lot more of the press forgot about our past. The whole thing really put my life into perspective—it was a shit I’ve come a long way moment, and damn, life can humble you real quick.

I’ll openly admit that I did creep my Ex on Instagramz I needed to figure out where he was, and then I sent him a text pretending like I had no clue he was in South Africa, finishing up part three of a movie series I had never even watched. The question was simple:

Hey, are you still in California?

And boom, as soon as he messaged back, the door was open. He told me he was wrapping up a movie and was moving back to LA to start a series for HBO and that he would love to catch up. I just wanted to catch up with his dick because after Italy, I needed something easy, and we were still friendly, and I didn’t want to have to go through all the work of getting to know someone new, and yes, I know I don’t have to explain the details, but a lot has happened in the past six months.

It was strange hooking up with him again; a lot had changed between us, both in life and physically. I had forgotten how hot he was, tall and muscular; he couldn’t be further from Harry, but still, I was comparing the two, maybe looking back on it now, trying to fill a “Harry” void that no one else could fill.

For starters, my Ex is five inches taller. I found myself climbing his body in a manner I was too shy to act on in the past, constantly trying to push away the memory of how Harry and I fit, our bodies perfectly aligned, it would have been the perfect give and take, and there I was—laying there with my Ex, his dick buried deep inside me, yet I only thought of Harry, his face floating across my vision every time, seriously every time, it was pathetic.

It all started with my Ex wanting to see my new place and where I was planting roots. He said he had been keeping up with me, finding it effortless since I was becoming more “famous” than him, which was a joke; I thought we were at least reaching the same playing field.

The second he walked through the door, his stare was palpable, as if he knew exactly why he was there. When he bent at the waist to hug me, he wrapped me in strong arms, his big hands gripping me tight. He drew in a long breath, nestling his face into the crook of my neck, dragging a breath through his nose like he was pulling me in.

I thought of Harry the moment we locked lips, the photoshoot, that weighted breath that gave him away, a chased burst of desire that sent a tingle down my spine—and here was my ex, so familiar, and I knew it would be good. I wouldn’t have to guess at cues because he was already sending them, and when I said, “I’ll show you my room first,” and turned away, he circled his arms around my body and pressed his lips to my neck—Okay, so, it was mutual, and we would spend the next two months fucking like we were making up for old times.

It was all fast, we were both just horny. When he eventually told me he wasn’t looking for anything serious and needed to focus on work, his Aussie accent fell heavy, laced with nerves, a mournful look filling his brown eyes. I was more than happy to let him go; of course, I would miss the easy dick, but I guess I could try and put myself out there—I thought…

And then the photoshoot dropped, and what I thought would be a slow burn flipped my life upside down. I knew Harry’s fandom was loyal; I had my best friend, Annelise, to prove that.

The thing about it was that when they revealed a sneak peek, you couldn’t even see my face. They only saw my tattoos, my brown skin, and curly hair. I could have been anybody, but the one thing that sent them pecking away at their keyboards was a close-up of Harry’s hand on my hip, his fingers spread, gripping my flesh with a pang of obvious hunger, and there peeking through was the tattoo of the word ‘Honey’ inked into my skin—They loved that one the most—It only took them a couple of days to figure it out—Now, cue the flood of new followers.

But what got fans the most was that Harry recorded a new song specifically for that campaign. It give the world a sample of his upcoming album, and with this, he could have played it off as, you know, just fun, just fucking around in the studio, and that’s where the magic began, but then, he had to go and slip up.

An interviewer asked him about the photoshoot shortly after the buzz started swirling, then he had to go and blab his mouth—and this part truly threw me for a loop because I’ve watched many of the interviews he’s done in the past, and he’s usually good at skirting around questions, always inconspicuous—a poster board for Aquarius’s everywhere, always aloof in the many plans and projects he has in the works, and I applaud that…I do.

So when said interviewer asked, “So where did you draw inspiration for this new song?” He literally said:

“Hmmm…don’t know, really. My last trip to Italy was really memorable, and I remember doing that photoshoot and feeling really inspired afterward…” a corky, lopsided smile playing at his lips the entire time, an unmistakable shift in his mood. It was like he was recalling a pleasant memory of the past.

And let me tell you. I’ve watched this interview every night before bed for the last four months straight, no lie—Then someone clears their throat in the background of the video. Harry’s face drops ever so slightly like they’re bringing him back to the present, keeping him in line, and the way his eyes shift to the person off the screen, with that, Oh shit, kind of look on his face is so apparent it aches, then he attempts to play it off with one of those charming smiles, and he changes the subject in seconds, barely covering his ass, except he didn’t.

Because fuck, everyone was on my ass after that, shipping us even before he and Olivia had even officially split. It made me want to stay as far away from him as possible and be even more vigilant with what I said or how I reacted in front of the camera. It made me hate him and want him at the same time, and yes, I do want him. I always have, but look at where we are, and after that stupid drunk dial. I wanted him even more, to be able to pick up my phone and hear that fucking voice like velvet, the way it crept up my spine and wrapped itself around my insides like a warm hug.

The thing is…I’ve had full access to Harry this whole time. I could have picked up the phone and called him whenever I wanted, but I wanted to rid him from my system. Yet, it was nearly impossible. I thought maybe if I put myself out there, all of the “Harry noise” would die down, but it seemed to only make the fan more stir-crazy.

I guess I’m not free of blame if we’re being honest. After I shot that live with Timothee, I followed ‘Pleasing’ on Instagram, which I thought I could preface with me just being supportive; they did send me merch after all but on the other hand. I know Harry had to have sent them dilerabately, to get my attention, the handwritten note, not only did he create a new launch with me in mind. There was also a song floating around, one that was really good actually, and as I’m shoving my headphones into my ears right before the plane takes off, it’s the first song I play, and now ‘Daydreaming’ has become my theme song, and somehow I can’t even be mad about it.

New York would be fun. I was only there for a few days, and everything was already lined up. There would be more free time than business, and I wanted to fit in as much as possible because I had only been to New York once. This time, I could actually be part of the hustle and bustle of everything, or at least feel that way, having a purpose to be there. I also got to spend more time with Timothee.

The first day was the only business I had on my schedule. I had a guest appearance on The Howard Stern Show, which I was looking forward to. It wasn’t as painful as I thought, and although he did ask a shit ton of questions about Harry—I think I managed to sideline them easily—The only thing that tripped me up were his random questions about Timothee, and how Howard seemed to be unusually intrigued by him, becoming more interested by Timothee than me toward the end of the interview and I was his guest.

That night, I had dinner with Timothee and his family, and somehow, we managed not to be photographed, not a single picture floating around. I did get pictured with his sister the next day when she took me around the city, showing me all her favorite vintage/thrift shops scattered about, hooping on the subway, and filling our stomachs with junk food. Even though she grew up here, Pauline took on the role of a tourist, which was greatly appreciated.

That night, we hung out with T at his place, ordering takeout and binge-watching Sons of Anarchy, starting from season two because Timothee insisted it was the best season. He ended up explaining more of the show than necessary, which resulted in me missing more essential parts, so we turned the show off to turn on a movie.

When Pauline left part way through the movie, I took to the internet. I was trying to be polite and stay off my phone, but all night, I could feel my finger twitching to be on my screen. The cast of ‘Don’t Worry Darling’ was spotted landing in NYC yesterday, and I wanted to see if there were any new pictures of Harry out on the town.

This was the first time we had been in the same country, in the same town, since London, and the feeling of seeing his feet hit the pavement on a street I might have walked on only hours before had my heart racing every time I pick up my phone and typed in ‘Harry Styles’ on every platform that made my life easier to track him.

Yes, I think I’m obsessed, but I have a feeling it might be mutual.

“What is that look on your face?” T asks, smiling over at me. I’m sprawled across his sofa, Timothee on the floor with his back resting against the couch, and every time I shift my knee, it nudges the hollow space in the middle of his back.

“Nothing, I’m just—” I trail off because that clip of Harry acting dodgy toward Olivia at their Venice premiere is all over my feed, and the site of the two of them makes me fucking cringe.

The whole situation is odd. I’ve been keeping up with all the gossip, taking it with a grain of salt, but shit, a lot of it seems creditable, and it’s not a good look for either one of them, not that I’m judging by any means, but hell, I would not want to be either one of them right now or be stuck hanging around the other. Harry almost came off as childish, which kind of turned me off, and I wish I could call him up and be like, bro, what was your deal? But something tells me that would be embarrassing for both of us.

Timothee’s head falls back on my leg, and I shift my eyes from my phone to catch a yawn forming at his mouth. Then I yawn, reaching forward to tassel his curls, eliciting a soft smile as his eyes drift shut, and I fight the urge to caress his cheek.

As I pull away, he opens his eyes, and we both smile. “Did Flo text you?” he asks, slicing through the silence. Then, he stands to gather the dishes. “She said they’re having an afterparty tomorrow, and we should come.”

I force myself to lock my screen and focus on the conversation, “She called me, but I didn’t answer…”

“Oh, I bet that’s why she was calling—” he shouts from the kitchen.

I ponder this for a few seconds, thinking of all the possible outcomes of me showing up at their cast afterparty: First off, Harry will be there unless he doesn’t show, but wouldn’t that be highly unlikely?

I would be showing up with Timothee, and that might look weird. Harry and I are both single, and while he might be in close proximity to his Ex right now, they don’t seem to be interacting very much, but I can only see what everyone else sees. I’m sure I could ask Florance, but she’s not really a fan of either one of them right now. It seems like they were even lucky to get her there in the first place—The whole thing is one big shit show.

Plus, if I go, I want to be there to support Flo, not be another girl getting googly-eyed over Harry right now. He has had enough of that already. I mean, they must have known that was going to happen when they hired him. It was smart on their end, but damn, I really want to go, just to be in the same room as him, and I would be on my best behavior, not even giving him a single glance unless he was in my line of sight and by that, I wouldn’t be able to avoid him, and I could just think the heavens later.

I, for one, don’t want any chance of us being photographed together; I have no intention of stirring the pot unless my pot is getting stirred…

“We should go…” I smile, and then T matches my smile, and I feel like I know what he’s about to say.

“You just want to see Harry…” He laughs, lifting my legs to plop down onto the couch, and I scoot myself up, drawing my knees to my chest.

“I mean…I would be there to support my friend. I can’t help that he’ll just happen to be there…” And I know my smile is giving me away, but I’m just so excited to see him, just a glimpse, just to know that, yes, he was real, and that maybe I’ll see that look in his eye—the want, the need—even if it’s fleeting, it would be enough.

I need to know if this is real or if I’m so caught up in the rumor mill that maybe I’m starting to believe the chatter.

“Have you talked to him since that photoshoot?” he asks, and my heart drops, the memory causing a dull ache in the pit of my stomach. I haven’t told anyone about the drunk dial, not even my best friend. I didn’t want to tarnish Harry’s name for her.

I exhale, my lungs heavy with gloom, “Honestly…umm…he kind of drunk dialed me one night, like after the shoot…” And it’s spilling out of my mouth, and the thing about Timothee is that I trust him. He’s already trusted me with so much of his private life, so it feels safe and freeing at the same time.

“Okay…so you saw that note the other day, right?” I pick up my phone and pop the case off, the note falling in my lap. “That day when you read this…that was the first time I had heard from him since that night.”

“He called me after the photoshoot, I think…maybe the next day or the day after…I don’t know, I’ve been trying to forget about it, but he kind of confessed his feelings for me…”

Timothee sits up then, “Wait, what? I thought you didn’t know him?”

“I don’t—I guess…ummm…I mean it’s kind of hard to explain, I guess it’s like a feeling or something. I saw Harry at the Gucci Show, then the next day, we did that photoshoot, randomly, and there was just this crazy connection…”

He laughs, “No shit, dude, look at you both…” And I shake my head, smiling down at the note.

“It’s not like that…I mean, I’m sure it could be like that…but I think it’s more than that…?” I shrug my shoulders, shaking the thought from my head.

“It’s honestly so confusing, and that fucking photoshoot blow everything up…”

T shakes his head and laughs nervously, “Dude, it really did…”

“I think I get it, though… “ he says after a beat of silence. “It makes sense…your avoidance.”

My head falls back against the arm of the couch with a thud, and I force out a deep breath, “Is it that obvious?”

“No—definitely not, but I’ve been around you, and also, I could tell by the way you navigated that live the other day…you’re pretty good at that. It’s really shocking that you haven’t had media training.”

I laugh, “Yeah…it just seems like common sense…”

“But a lot of people don’t have that. I’ve had a lot of training. I feel like I was a lot more open in the past, but I feel like I’m getting better at leaving some stuff for me.” He explains.

“I’ve always liked your interviews…as long as you’re you at your core, then you’re golden. Those fans are always going to swoon over you.”

Timothee swallows, his adamapple bobbing, “Yeah…but sometimes you just want the right person to swoon over you…” Them his eyes flick to me, making my heart pick up, the comment hanging in air between us. What does that even mean?

He smiles, looking down at his hands, suddenly shy. “So..what do you want to do?” he asks, and when he looks back at me, there’s something contemplative about his gaze, like maybe he wants to say more, so I wait for him to continue, and when he swallows, his green eyes trained on me, for the first time I’m starting to second guess what this friendship might be because his face is so serious and when I say:

“I want to go…” I watch his chest deflate, a low exhale as he scoots forward on the couch cushion, and when he clasps his hands together and lets his head drop, I’m holding my breath, the sudden shift in his mood making me wonder if that was some sort of test.

Then he says, “I think you guys will be good together…” Oddly enough, it even sounds genuine and thoughtful. A smile spreads on his face, but it doesn’t seem to reach his eyes. When he looks away, pulling out his phone to end the conversation, the air is thick with questions, making me reconsider everything, like maybe Harry was just the push I needed to get myself back out there.

A/N: Hmmm...is Shiloh actually going to consider Timothee?

All Chapters Here <-

My Tiny Masterlist Here<-

[rems-writing]

AUD: Saving the First Mate

》 Pairing: non-idol!Seonghwa x afab!reader

》 Genre/Trope: fluff/strangers to friends

》 Wordcount: 1,863

》 Rating: pg-13

》Type: series

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

"I need you to think different. Think bigger when it comes to us." - Lucky Daye

“In this scenario, you are on a blind date with Park Seonghwa. You are a strong hater of men. He discovers this yet he can’t help but fall for you. He tries day and night to get you to change your mind. Will you still reject him?” - Maddox

---------------------------------------------------

“Ok it’s not like I hate men persay. Sometimes, they can be a little stupid.”

“Love, they’re all stupid. And I am a man myself.”

“Ok but you’re an exception though.”

“What about me?”

You and MITO turn to Hongjoong, who tilted his head curiously. Even though you hadn’t known the captain for long, you knew of what he and his crew did so in a way, you trusted him. Thus, also making him an exception. 

“Yeah I guess you’re an exception as well.”

Hongjoong giggled and your heart melted upon hearing it. For someone who is supposed to be a deadly captain, he was downright adorable. You patted his head before turning back to MITO, who had an amused expression on his face as he viewed the exchange between you two. He soon looked up and saw the next pirate king. A blush was on his face and you were quick to notice it. A mischievous smirk was on your face as you poked MITO’s bicep. 

“Do you… perhaps have a crush on this guy?”

“What?! Psh! No! Of course not, love!”

“I don’t know, Christian. Your heart eyes say otherwise.”

“Shut up!”

You and Hongjoong giggled quietly while MITO sighed heavily and hid his face to further hide himself from embarrassment. You stood up and patted him on the shoulder before making your way towards the man. You were mesmerized by the androgynous beauty he held. His eyes were sharp, his eyebrows and jawline were sharper, his nose was pointed beautifully, his lips looked soft and plump, and his platinum blonde hair was long and styled specifically so one layer was tied up and the rest was down. He wore a simple polo and jeans with some off-white Vans. He was looking out the window, sipping on his drink and waiting for you. You waited a couple more seconds before sitting down across from him. He looked towards you and a shy smile was on his face. 

How could you possibly hate this man?

“Hi. I’m Seonghwa. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hi! I’m Natasha. Nice to meet you too!”

You chose that fake name since you felt like a spy due to the sneaky undercover nature you held when you first entered the simulation. Plus, Black Widow was your favorite Marvel character so you felt like you had to do her justice. As you were eating and conversing with Seonghwa, you noticed the captain and bounty hunter in your peripheral vision, watching you from the sidelines carefully and thoroughly. Unlike Hongjoong’s scenario, this one took a little longer since you tried to maintain your role as a certified man hater. 

MITO’s words, not yours. 

Yet, you couldn’t find it in you to hate this man. You tried your best to act non-chalant or dismissive of everything Seonghwa does, but if you had to be honest with yourself, each time you acted cold towards him, you felt like you were committing horrible sins one at a time. Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa took mental notes of your odd behavior. Before he could point it out, his phone pinged. He looked down to see that he had to get back to work in a few minutes before sighing deeply and looking back up at you. 

“I’m so sorry to cut this short, Natasha. Duty calls, you know? Perhaps we can meet next time under better circumstances.”

In this scenario, you were supposed to scoff and roll your eyes before lecturing him on how you shouldn’t set up a blind date during a work day, let alone a 30 minute break during a work day. However, you didn’t have the heart to tell him that. And perhaps it’s a good thing. By doing all these small and subtle changes to your character, you could be a bit closer to breaking him out of the simulation. As he was getting up, you were about to fish out your wallet so you could pay for your guys’ meal. In this part, he was about to protest and you were about to bite back by saying some stupid shit, causing him to feel horrible. When he protested and insisted on paying, you did something different. You tilted your head and furrowed your brows in confusion. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes yes! I’m positive. Think of it as me making it up to you for all this.”

“Ok, Hwa. Only if you’re sure about this though.”

Seonghwa nodded in reassurance as he set down a few bills and put away his wallet straight after. Before he left, you exchanged numbers and set up another meeting with him. Usually, that doesn’t happen. It was the other way around and there was reluctance and annoyance on your part before you gave in. With a final word of gratitude leaving his lips, he left the small eatery in a hurry so he could get back to work on time. You walked back to where Hongjoong and MITO were seated. They were impressed with how you went about your interaction with Seonghwa. MITO pointed out the subtle changes you made and commended you on a job well done. However, he couldn’t help but tease your lack of non-chalance. 

“Listen! If you were in my position, you would’ve done the same exact thing! Especially since you have a thing for him.”

“I understand what you’re saying, but still. You have to maintain your role. Sure, the changes are small and subtle, but what if you get cocky? The virus will catch wind of that and it’ll further corrupt Seonghwa’s mind and will either kick you out of the simulation or…”

“Or start corrupting you.”

You looked over to Hongjoong, who finished MITO’s sentence with a grim look on his face. You sighed and nodded slowly, indicating that you understood yet you were expressing how disappointed and ashamed you must’ve been feeling since you didn’t think about the consequences that will come with your actions. MITO noticed this and took your hand in his, rubbing your knuckles in a comforting manner. 

“Look, love. We’re not saying you should stop. We’re just letting you know that you should be more careful about these things. Ok? You’re doing an excellent job so far.”

You grinned bashfully at the hunter’s praiseful words. Soon, the three of you stood up so you could go back home to your temporary quarters, which was a small condo located in the heart of the downtown district. Once you arrived, you went to your room so you could rest and formulate your next course of action.

A WEEK LATER

You were deep in your thoughts as you sat on the park bench, waiting for Seonghwa to come by. You were thinking differently about the type of men that are out there. Not every single man is a fuckboy. In truth, there are still gentlemen in this world. You just got to find them. There was just one issue. 

You already knew this. 

You knew about what Seonghwa told you prior to you entering the simulation. However, you heeded MITO’s words and acted like you agreed to disagree on his statements. It hurt your heart to see him so puzzled and disappointed, but you pushed through. You kept repeating to yourself that this was all fake and that you needed to do this in order to free him. 

“Hey.”

You looked up to see a nervous Seonghwa sit next to you. You greeted each other and started talking once more. You were a bit distracted since you had to mentally prepare yourself to say the words you have relayed to Hongjoong in order to break the captain free of the simulation. As you kept talking, you heard Seonghwa inhale and exhale slowly before taking your hands in his. 

“I might be jumping the gun here, but here it goes. I’m in love with you. Even though your mindset is warped, I can tell you are headstrong and that your word is unmovable. You say what you say, mean it, and stand by it. You are not easily persuaded. I want this to work. I just need to ask one thing.”

Here it goes…

“What’s stopping you from changing your mind about me and why is it that you still feel this way despite the fact that you must feel the same?”

With that same composed look you gave Hongjoong, you stared at him dead in the eyes and said the words with conviction and determination. 

“Because none of it is real! Wake up!”

Seonghwa’s face paled and you began to worry that the virus must’ve discovered you and will either rip him away from you and further corrupt you or rip you away from him and kick you out of the simulation. To further save both yourself and him, you fished out a silver bracelet and slapped it on his wrist, hurriedly saying the words engraved on the inside of the accessory. 

“Be free!”

The setting around you soon changed. Instead of sitting on a bench in a park, you two were standing in the vast empty space once again. Seonghwa groaned in pain and clutched his head. He was stumbling and just when he was about to fall over, Hongjoong and MITO ran up to him and kept him upright by grabbing his arms and steadying him. Meanwhile, you stood there and tried not to drool. 

Like Hongjoong, Seonghwa’s appearance changed. 

He was wearing the same thing as Hongjoong, except he didn’t have a trench coat or a hat. He had two leather armbands on both his sleeved biceps and he had leather gloves on. His hair was shorter this time and it was a brighter shade of red than Hongjoong’s hair. Your eyes then drifted to the wine stain sparsely covering one of the sleeves of his crisp white tee. You were about to point it out, but a gloved finger covered your lips. 

“Don’t worry about it, darling. I crushed my glass out of anger during a meeting we all had prior to entering this… simulation.”

“Uh… ok?”

Seonghwa smirked wickedly as he looked you up and down shamelessly. He was either checking you out or he was judging you. You didn’t know which one was better. Luckily, you didn’t have to since Hongjoong smacked him upside the head. 

“Dude, don’t scare her. She’s our savior. Don’t make her run away now!”

“Oh? My apologies then. It appears I’m still hazy from the simulation.”

You gave him an awkward thumbs-up and Seonghwa found the sight utterly cute. He grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it before pulling you closer to him. Hongjoong rolled his eyes at his friend’s flirtatious actions while MITO cringed. 

“Come on. We got six more blokes to save.”

That was the last thing MITO said before the four of you ventured off on your next rescue mission. 

[biotic-raptorian-angel]

Letter- Moicy

The Overwatch lab was quiet, save for the soft hum of servers and the occasional beep of machinery. Angela sat at her workstation, her fingers gliding across the holographic interface as she sifted through the data Moira had granted her access to. It was an unprecedented gesture of trust—Moira’s private storage servers, containing years of research, lab notes, and personal files. Angela had been both surprised and touched by the offer, and she was determined to make the most of it.

As she navigated through the files, she marveled at the depth and breadth of Moira’s work. There were detailed notes on genetic manipulation, cutting-edge biotech experiments, and even sketches of theoretical devices. Angela couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe. For all their disagreements, there was no denying Moira’s brilliance.

But as she delved deeper, she began to notice something unusual. Among the research data and lab notes were personal journal entries, dated and meticulously organized. Angela hesitated, her cursor hovering over one of the files. She knew she shouldn’t pry—these were clearly private—but curiosity got the better of her. She clicked on the file.

The first few entries were what she expected: reflections on experiments, frustrations with funding, and the occasional rant about bureaucratic red tape. But as she scrolled further, the tone began to shift. The entries became more personal, more introspective. Angela’s breath caught in her throat as she realized some of them were about her.

“Dr. Ziegler continues to surprise me. Her dedication to her work is unparalleled, but it’s her compassion that truly sets her apart. I find myself drawn to her in ways I can’t fully explain. It’s… unsettling.”

Angela’s heart skipped a beat. She glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting Moira to walk in at any moment. But the lab was empty, save for the soft glow of the monitors. She turned back to the screen, her fingers trembling slightly as she continued reading.

“I’ve never been one for sentimentality, but there’s something about Angela that defies logic. Her laughter, her determination, the way she looks at me as if she can see through all my defenses—it’s maddening. And yet, I can’t bring myself to push her away.”

Angela’s cheeks flushed, and she felt a warmth spread through her chest. She had always known there was tension between them, a magnetic pull that neither of them could fully ignore. But to see it laid bare in Moira’s own words was something else entirely.

And then she saw it.

A file titled “Letter to A.Z.”

Her breath hitched, and she clicked on it before she could second-guess herself. The document opened, revealing a single page of text. It was a letter—a love letter—written in Moira’s precise, elegant handwriting.

“Angela,

I’ve never been good with words, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from you, it’s that some things are worth saying, even if they’re difficult.

You are the most infuriating, brilliant, and beautiful person I’ve ever known. You challenge me in ways no one else ever has, and you make me want to be better—not just as a scientist, but as a person. I don’t know if you’ll ever feel the same way, but I needed you to know. Even if I never have the courage to give you this letter, I needed to put it into words.

Yours, always,  

Moira.”

Angela’s vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes. She read the letter again, her heart pounding in her chest. Moira had written this for her. Moira had felt this way for who knows how long, and she had never said a word.

The sound of the lab door sliding open snapped Angela out of her thoughts. She quickly closed the file and wiped her eyes, but it was too late. Moira stood in the doorway, her sharp gaze immediately zeroing in on Angela’s tear-streaked face.

“Angela?” Moira’s voice was laced with concern, a rare crack in her usual composure. “What’s wrong?”

Angela stood, her hands trembling as she clutched the edge of the desk. “Moira, I… I found something. On your server.”

Moira’s eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked almost panicked. “What did you find?”

Angela took a deep breath, her heart racing. “Your journal entries. And… the letter.”

Moira froze, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she stepped closer, her hands clenched at her sides. “I see.”

“Why didn’t you give it to me?” Angela asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Moira looked away, her jaw tightening. “Because I was afraid. Afraid I’d ruin what we have.”

Angela stepped closer, her heart swelling with emotion. “Moira, you could never ruin this. Not with something as beautiful as that letter.”

Moira’s gaze snapped back to hers, her heterochromatic eyes filled with a vulnerability Angela had never seen before. “You mean that?”

“I do,” Angela said softly. She reached out, her fingers brushing against Moira’s hand. “I’ve felt it too, you know. This… connection between us. I just didn’t know how to put it into words myself.”

Moira’s breath hitched, and for a moment, they simply stood there, their hands intertwined, their hearts laid bare. Then, slowly, Moira reached down and cupped Angela’s cheek, her touch gentle.

“Angela,” she murmured, her voice filled with a tenderness that made Angela’s heart ache. “I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know this: I want to face it with you.”

Angela’s eyes filled with tears again, and she leaned into Moira’s touch. “I want that too.”

Their lips met in a kiss that was soft, tentative, and filled with all the unspoken words they had been too afraid to say. It was a promise, a beginning, and a testament to the bond they had built—one that was stronger than any fear or doubt.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads resting together, Moira felt a sense of peace she hadn’t known in years. She didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in a long time, she felt hopeful. And as she looked into Angela’s eyes, she knew she wasn’t alone in that feeling.

A-Z Prompts

I've decided to try and keep up with daily writing by doing 1 prompt a day for each ship via the A-Z prompts I came up with below. If you like it or have suggestions for other prompts, please let me know!

Adoration

Bravery

Chivalry

Devotion

Ethereal

Friendship

Glamour

Healthy

Idol

Jukebox

Kingdom

Letter

Moss

Nude

Observation

Paint

Quiet

Rejection

Sea

Turntable

Unanimous

Vermin

Wings

Xenomorphic

Yitten

Zephyr

[mike-haters-dni]

Me when I’m a 13-year-old boy who watched the girl he fell deeply in love with die in front of him and then spent a year calling her everyday desperately trying to summon her back because he couldn’t go on without her when she miraculously shows up alive again and they finally get to be together: I’m sorry girl 😔 I love care for you 😔 but I had these friends first 😔 we can’t leave this get together even though we both want to 😔 I’ve objectively weighed my priorities and my friends have to be a little bit more important to me 😔 even though btw I’ve left you to go hang out with them before 😔 I hope you can understand 😔

Shit this is actually what y’all wanted him to act like isn’t it lmao

[cerealforkart]

Oakworthy but it’s that one issue of Teen Titans where Robin is losing his mind a little trying to clone Superboy after he died and Wondergirl comes in and says “even if you succeed you know it won’t actually be him” and Robin says “I know that but it would be something”

[fingertipsmp3]

I’m convinced Olympic shooters are superhuman actually

[yeyayeya]

What are your Gen 2 FE4 ships, I won't judge

Again, I have multiple ships, but these are the main ones I ship

1. Scáthach x Arthur (my ultimate rarepair, and Scáthach is one of my ultimate blorbos)

2. Seliph x Ares

3. Julia x Lana

4. Patty x Larcei

5. Lene x Fee

6. Febail x Tine

7. Diarmuid x Lester

8. Coirpre x Sara

9. Julius x Ishtar

10. Ced x Altena

11. Shannan x Oifey

12. Nanna x Leif

13. Iuchar x Dalvin

14. Iucharba x Muirne

15. Hawk x Laylea

16. Amid x Jeanne

17. Tristan x Asaello

18. Hermina x Linda

[wxywardsun]

Wildest thing supernatural ever pulled was the “two prophets can’t exist on earth at once” thing cause it results in a malformed prophet and..something something balance of the universe..something like that..I can’t remember. Like..what do you mean we can’t just have a cool prophet duo? We just deserved more prophets in general! They were so interesting and had layers to them,their whole entire concept was so cool to see and yet we saw so little of them in a sense. I just wish they were utilized a biiit more.

[octoooo]

Passing this along if you want to ~

Hello there! You've been tagged! You don't have to do anything if you don't want to, but if you'd like, list 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! Learn to know your mutuals and followers! 💖💖💖

This got long like the 10ft long super sub from Regular Show

Anyway

1) ART! Definitely any type of creative outlet but specifically drawing for me. Writing is yum too but seeing my finished product makes me happier than writing it lol. I had a love-hate relationship with almost all my fics as I wrote them <3

2) TUMBLR as odd as that may sound. I dunno how but it’s the site with the least amount of toxic people that I’ve seen* Of course toxicity exists here, but it’s not in my face (unlike TikTok and Twitter where it’s thrown in my face as soon as I log on) You ever read the comments on silly Sanegiyuu tiktoks? The creator & other fans of the ship get grilled alive, it’s awful.

(*specifically in my little demon slayer bubble. A good amount of ppl I interact with are 18+ but even those who aren’t seem mature)

Anyway Umblr is fun! And I love sharing everything my brain cooks up with cool people. 🫵🏾 🐙

3) Piggybacking off the last one, MUTUALS I LOVE YOU. We’re all a similar brand of Crazy when it comes to Demon Slayer & that’s pretty cool. Even if it’s not Demon Slayer related, I just like interacting.

Followers & mutuals I loaf you dearly <3

4) SPLATOON! Fucking love Splatoon I don’t think yall know just how much I adore this game. It’s fun to play, fun to draw, fun to think about lore-wise.

I think my favorite Splatoon fact is that the Octarians lost the Great Turf War only because their Octoweapons were unplugged.

Like

That’s hilarious. That’s genius. Weapon of mass Squid Destruction is stopped by their own plug. It’s like Dr. Doofenshmirtz putting a self destruct button on all his tech.

For all the devastating lore Splatoon has, it’s also very goofy.

5) DEVILMAN CRYBABYYYY! I watched it for the first time a few weeks ago and AAUGH IM HOOKED! All I can think about,,is the final scene with Ryo & Akira I—

Lmao anyway thanks for the ask! 10 people is a lot, but I’ll slip this sticky note ask into a few people’s lunchbox

[woodsteingirl]

the beautiful world is so beautiful but it’s mildly peeving because it currently exists predominantly unedited in a single google doc that’s vaguely chronological in order but it’s like. vignettes so it would be really hard to post anywhere because i don’t write it in any order….