#I’m just trying to be a neutral voice through it all

[strawb3rry-saturnzbarz]

☆Lighter Lorenz x Reader★

Summary: Lighter invites you to a New Year’s Day party which sounds like fun… but you were so excited that you completely forgot that one of your biggest triggers will be there.

A/N: I had this idea a few nights ago and HAD to do something with it immediately. I haven’t written since around 2021 so I’m very rusty, bear with me pls (´ ∀｀;)

(I tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible, but there is an instance where Lighter refers to the reader as a girl.)

dividers by @rookthornesartistry

Warnings: mentions of alcohol/drunk people, kissing

Notes: sfw, comfort + reassurance, confessions of feelings

You are currently in Lumina Square running some errands, minding your own business when you hear a familiar voice call out your name.

“Hey, y/n. What brings you here?”

It was Lighter, the man of your silly, lovesick dreams. Ever since you were introduced to the Sons of Calydon, you've struggled to ignore the feelings of attraction he sparked within you. It was completely hopeless; you were absolutely smitten.

Doing your best to ignore the rapid beating in your chest, you tell him you just came to run some quick errands, and he nods his head.

“Ah, same here actually. It’s my turn to get the gang’s groceries this week.” He says, feigning annoyance with an eye roll.

“By the way, if you’re interested…” Lighter starts, adjusting his shades a bit, “the Sons of Calydon are hosting a New Year’s Day party tonight to celebrate the start of another exciting year. There will be drinks, snacks, music, dancing, all the good stuff. You up for it?”

You pause and think. You were never the type to go out and party, but this was a special occasion and you happened to like lighter… a lot.

As long as he’s there, I should have fun, right?

And so of course you agreed to go. Why the hell not?

“Oh, yeah sure!” you bob your head dumbly, the only thought in your mind being how much fun it must be to party and dance with him.

“Great, I look forward to seeing you there.”

Lighter gives you the time and place, giving you a playful fist bump and wishing you safe travels before you both parted ways.

You spend a considerable amount of time making yourself look presentable, showering and putting on a pretty yet still comfortable outfit. While stepping outside to unlock your car, you message Lighter.

“Hey, i’m omw :) meet at the entrance to Blazewood?”

“Sure thing. See you around ;)”

You smile at his message and turn the keys to start the car, all the while imagining the fun you and Lighter will have together. Maybe you’ll share some snacks and chat, perhaps you’ll dance and flirt. All of the possibilities start flooding the forefront of your brain, almost making you loose focus of the road.

Once you arrive and park at the entrance to Blazewood, Lighter spots you walking towards him and waves. He leads you inside, offering an arm out of courtesy which you accept without hesitation. You can’t help the stupid grin that slipped through your lips at his handsome charm.

Once inside, Lighter leads you to a less crowded bar, sitting down beside you and bumping your elbow playfully as he calls the bartender over.

“What do you say y/n, you wanna start with some shots?”

Oh…

You had completely forgotten that you had a strong hatred towards alcohol, not to mention its effects on people. You were so consumed with your own attraction to Lighter that you didn’t even consider the possibility of feeling uncomfortable at the party.

You stumble over your thoughts, trying to form a response instead of leaving him hanging.

Do I lie and have a few? Or just…

“Uh… i’m okay. Sorry… I might just get a soda or something.”

Shit, how embarrassing. The love of your life offered to buy you a drink and all you have to say is no?

Lighter just nods and smiles softly, ordering a soda for you and a beer for himself. He didn’t plan on getting shit-faced drunk, especially with you here to see him, but he wanted to let loose a bit tonight.

You occasionally take small sips of your soda, starting to feel uncomfortable from the already hammered people beginning to crowd the bar. The loud music was becoming increasingly overwhelming, and the smell of beer on everyone’s breaths was not making things any better.

“This was supposed to be fun,” you thought. You came along to dance and have a good time with Lighter, not sit and be overstimulated by the drunk guests’ slurred singing and clumsy stumbling behind you.

“You feeling hungry? Want something to eat?” Lighter asks, leaning a bit closer so you could hear him over the crowd. His voice grounds you to an extent, but you can’t help the consuming feelings of guilt and humiliation building within yourself.

How could you forget about that? Fucking idiot. You’re too in love with him to even think twice.

You shake your head, fiddling with the little aluminum tab on your soda can.

“I’m okay, thank you.” You mutter, disguising your growing discomfort with a feeble smile.

The sounds and smells of the guests around you are becoming even harder to ignore as they call out to the bartender for more shots. The inconsiderate woman in the stool next to you keeps elbowing your arm, and she reeks of beer and cheap perfume, making your nose wrinkle.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

He picks up on your subtle shift in attitude, and swivels his barstool to face you. You are typically happy and talkative towards him, not quiet and withdrawn; if anyone knows when there’s something amiss, it’s Lighter.

“Hey, what’s the matter? You seem a little quiet…” Lighter asks softly, but loud enough for you to hear him, as he places his hand on your shoulder carefully.

And that’s when you crumble. His gentle touch and genuine concern is so touching, and you are so overwhelmed with emotions that they begin spilling out for the whole bar to see. Albeit, most of the guests are too wasted and distracted to notice, but not Lighter.

Fuck, i’ve ruined the whole night. This was supposed to be fun, and I ruined it, all because i’m too fucking naive and infatuated to think before i speak.

By now, Lighter is beyond concerned, setting his drink down to gently take your hands in his.

“Hey it’s okay, look at me…” his voice is so soft, it almost feels like a comforting hug. “Do you want to step outside real quick?”

Great. Now he’s worried and you’re a pitiful, crying mess.

You try looking up at him, but it’s no good; the intense shame and embarrassment of killing the mood keeps your head hanging down. Hiding your face in your hands, you nod your head and cry, mumbling through timid sobs.

“I’m sorry Lighter, I’ve ruined everything…”

He stares at you dumbfounded and worried, trying to decipher what could be going on inside your pretty little mind.

“What do you- Here… let’s go somewhere else for a bit, okay?”

He stands from his barstool and offers you a gloved hand, wrapping his other arm around your shoulder as you walk back to the entrance of Blazewood.

Once you’re far away from the party he sits you down on his parked bike, kneeling down onto his knees as to not tower over you. Carefully, Lighter takes your hands into his and gazes up at you, waiting for anything you may say or do.

“What did you mean? About ruining everything?” His voice was gentle and non-demanding as he watched you patiently.

Through sad hiccups you manage to speak, wiping your face with the back of your hand.

“I wanted to have fun with you at the party, I really did, but I got overwhelmed and ruined everything by crying- I’m sorry Lighter, I-I can’t do it.”

Ah, so you were overwhelmed… that explains why you seemed so zoned out.

His thumbs gently brushed against your knuckles as he murmured words of reassurance. “You haven’t ruined anything. It’s not your fault that you feel overwhelmed, it happens to all of us sometimes yeah?”

“I know, but I should've known what I was getting into.” You sigh and do your best explain your deal with alcohol and how you’ve never enjoyed drinking or watching others drink.

And now it’s Lighter’s turn to feel guilty. He had been sitting there right next to you sipping from his beer the whole time, totally unaware that he was part of the reason you were uncomfortable. His eyes widened slightly as he squeezed your hand apologetically.

“Oh y/n, I had no idea… I’m so sorry if i made you feel uneasy. I would have ordered something else if i had known better…” His grip on your hand loosened as he continued rubbing your knuckles while you cried. “You wouldn’t have hurt my feelings by saying something before the party or by rejecting my offer. Your comfort is my top priority. You know that right?”

Lighter’s words mixed with the soft feeling of his gloves on your skin causes your heart to flutter.

“I know… I was just so excited to come hang out with you that I completely forgot about how I might react to everything.”

Lighter grins, somewhat flattered by your statement. “Well, I’m touched to receive such high praise, but please don’t push yourself for me in the future, alright?”

You nod and sniffle, wiping the last of your remaining tears away. “Okay..”

Lighter raised an eyebrow, knowing well enough that you tend to be a people pleaser, even more so towards those you love. “Promise me?”

“I promise.”

“Atta girl.” He carefully patted your hands as he stood up from the ground, opening his arms hesitantly and offering you a hug.

Closing the distance with a small step, you wrap your arms around his back, his own finding their way around your waist. His thumbs stroked gentle circles on your sides as he held you close, savoring the warmth of your embrace.

“Can I take you to a spot that I like to visit?” His voice was soft and airy against your hair, easing any leftover guilt you may have felt for making him drag you out of the party.

After feeling your short nod against his chest, he eased out of your grip and sat on his motorcycle, patting the seat behind him.

As you swung your leg over the seat and got comfortable, he offered you his helmet. “Here, you need this more than me.”

You smile softly at his consideration for your safety, and with your arms wrapped around his warm body you drove off to his private quiet haven.

The blue night sky was filled with stars, it was absolutely mesmerizing. The further you drove into the countryside, the more hills and trees there were, the soft moonlight hitting each blade of dry grass. Lighter pulled up to a small pond surrounded by trees and tall grass and propped his bike against one of the large trees. It was a remote and quiet little spot, the only sounds being your combined breaths and the crickets hiding in the grass.

Lighter lent you a hand as you hopped off his bike, and led you towards the water to sit down and relax.

"I like to come here sometimes, when I just need to get away for a bit. Sometimes I'll splash around in the water if it's really hot out," he mentioned with a slight chuckle as he crossed his legs.

You crack a smile and look around, taking in nature's beauty whilst fiddling with a tall strand of grass beside you. "It is a very pretty spot."

"I'm glad you think so too."

A brief moment of silence passes before Lighter turns to face you, patting your knee. "You feeling any better now?”

Although you did feel lees overwhelmed, you still felt guilty for making him worry to the point he left the party.

"Yeah, I just hate that I made you worry about me… I wanted you to have fun tonight.”

Your words broke his heard. Did you really think he saw your struggles as a burden?

He took his shades off to look into your eyes, folding and setting them on the dry grass as he took your hands into his again.

“I’m always going to worry about you, I can’t help it. I don’t need to be at a loud party with drinks to have fun, I was just happy that you showed up.” Lighter’s voice sounded warm and sincere, and that made you all the more emotional. “I care about you a lot, y’know? You’ve always been there for me when I needed someone to lean on, the least I can do is be there in return.”

“You’d better stop or you’ll make me cry again,” you joked with a light laugh.

Lighter snorted as he shook his head in amusement, his grip on your hands tightening a tad as he clears his throat.

“Listen, I’m really sorry if i made you feel uncomfortable back there. I would never do something like that to you on purpose.”

You bob your head in acknowledgment. “I know you wouldn’t, Lighter.”

Your affirmation means the would to him, shows that you trust him, and he can’t keep his feelings to himself anymore. To Lighter, you’re the kindest person with the sweetest heart he’s ever seen, your love makes him feel all mushy inside, and you deserve to know.

“I um… I don’t know if this makes you feel any less guilty, but I love you, a-and I always want you to be happy. Truth is… you’re my favorite person. I really enjoy your company, and I always want you to be happy. So… if that means driving you away from a loud party, then that’s what I’ll do for you.”

…This isn’t happening is it?

Lighter’s confession hits like a slap in the face, earning him a stare of bewilderment. Did he seriously just admit that you’re his number one? A new warm feeling fills your chest as his words sink in, soothing every fiber of your being. Your heart races in your chest as your cheeks warm from his honest declaration of love, and you aren’t sure to what to say.

And he can tell. As he sits with you patiently waiting hand in hand, the gears in your mind start turning, allowing you to speak again.

“I love you too… I always have.”

Not only do your words stir something within him, but it also brings him immense satisfaction knowing you feel the same. He starts feeling a bit bold, shakily bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it while he gazes up at you through his messy bangs.

The feeling of his soft lips on your skin nearly sends you into shock, and the stupid smile that graces your lips only causes his pulse to quicken even more.

Lighter scoots a bit closer to you, his hip pressing against yours as his arm drapes across your shoulders. The awkward, romantic tension in the air is almost palpable as he kisses your hand again, slower and less timid this time. Once his hand lets go of your hand, it travels to your jawline, his gloved thumb rubbing your warm cheek gently.

“May I kiss you?” He whispered, his deep voice floating through the air and into your ears.

Despite how taken aback you are, you nod without a second thought, leaning into his side as you gaze up at him. Lighter’s head tilts a bit, allowing him better access, before leaning in and closing the distance.

The feeling of his soft, warm lips on yours is everything you’ve ever dreamed of, and you can’t get enough of it. He feels you smiling shyly into the kiss, making his heart leap with joy as he gently threads his fingers through your hair.

After a short moment of kissing, he pulls back just enough to admire the dopey grin on your flushed face.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that…”

It’s nearly impossible to stop yourself from smiling at his sweet remark, and it just makes you want to kiss him again, and again, and again.

And so you do until the moon reaches its peak, signaling the late hours of the night. Lighter flashes a heartfelt grin before offering a hand to help you up, walking you over to his bike to drive you back home.

The night had taken quite the unexpected turn, but who knows what opportunities await for you and Lighter now that your feelings are out in the open?

[snowrubies]

Language Barrier

Fem!reader x Twice (mainly Sana)

Genre: Extremely fluffy and comedic

Warnings: none

Synopsis: You speak Korean perfectly, but Twice doesn't know that.

"Again? You need better staff," you say into the phone, exasperated. Your friend works in sound design for various concerts and often calls you when yet another member of the culinary or courtesy staff flakes out or quits without warning. It’s not a particularly difficult job, and the pay is decent. Plus, waiting on celebrities can be amusing—you get to see sides of them most people don’t.

"Well, you live so close, and we both know you’re not exactly swimming in plans, loser," she shoots back playfully.

"Fine, fine. Time, place, and dress code?" you reply, already rifling through your closet for the outfit she convinced you to buy "just in case."

"Same concert hall as last time. Be there at 10 AM for setup. White shirt, black pants. Bring them to change into, so you don’t ruin your good ones. Hair and makeup are your choice, but trust me—you’ll want to look good." There’s a sly undertone in her voice that sets off alarm bells. She’s hiding something.

"As if I ever try to look bad in front of celebrities," you grumble, glancing at your bedside clock. It’s 8:30—barely enough time to get ready, grab a quick lunch, and make it downtown. "Well, at least this time I have an hour. That’s better than last time’s 'get here now' panic."

"I’m learning," she says with faux innocence. Then, softer, "Thanks for doing this. See you soon."

You hang up and spring into action. First, leggings and a basic T-shirt for the commute. You pack your good clothes—crisp white shirt, black pants, and the shoes she always insists are "fancy enough." Hair comes next: rollers for quick curls while you keep your makeup simple. Neutral eyeshadow, a touch of blush, a dab of highlight—just enough to feel put together without going full glam. You're not the one under the spotlight, after all.

Time slips away faster than you expect. By the time your hair is pinned loosely at the crown of your head—not a bun, too stiff—you’ve got only ten minutes left. No time for anything fancy, so you toss hot dogs and mac and cheese in the microwave. The true lunch of champions. It’s not exactly a Michelin-star meal, but you figure you’ll sneak some of the event catering later.

You scarf down what you can grab your phone, keys, and bag, and head out the door.

You saw the signs as you were pulling into the back parking lot of the space. Your friend had conveniently forgotten to tell you just who you'd be waiting on, or even exactly what you'd be doing. She couldn't exactly hide the giant LED billboard with nine beautiful women you definitely more than recognized on it advertising tonight's concert. Even if she could, once inside the backdoor of the venue there was a staggering amount of Korean people and Hangul posted on doors and in hallways that'd give you a clue. You sent her a quick text saying where you were so she could give you today's assignment, and so you could jump down her throat for not telling you you'd be waiting on Twice. Just your favorite girl group ever.

She found you backstage by one of the many different locked rooms. "Hey best frieeend," she drew out in a singsongy way going in for a hug.

You weaved out of her hold, " Oh no. You've lost hug privileges. When exactly were you going to tell me it was Twice?"

"I said you'd want to look nice," she giggled. All part of her master plan.

"You are the worst," you muttered, trying to sound angry despite the giddy energy coursing through you. "What am I even doing? Don’t tell me I’m stuck running drinks or something."

"Relax," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "I may have mentioned you know Korean, so you’ll mostly be on standby in case they need anything. Food, water, minor stuff like that. You’re not serving tables or anything formal. Just be polite, stay professional, and don’t freak out."

"Freak out? Me?" you said with a nervous laugh. "Never. Definitely not having a full-blown internal meltdown right now."

"Good," she smirked, handing you a badge and a quick rundown of the evening. "You’ll do great. Oh, and try not to stare. They’re even prettier in person." With that, she spun on her heel and disappeared down the hallway, leaving you alone to process the fact that you were about to be in the same room as TWICE.

Taking a deep breath, you clipped the badge onto your shirt and adjusted your outfit one last time. Time to get it together. No fangirling. Just act cool, calm, and totally collected. Easy, right?

You refused to just sit and wait twiddling your thumbs until they arrived. You exchanged some pleasantries with the catering people and helped them set up snack trays and water bottles in the green room for Twice. They would be here soon for a sound check. Actual sound check, not the fake two to three-song warm-up open to the VIP fans. After that, they had some time to eat and in general hang around while getting their hair, makeup, and costumes done.

The green room looked cozy but professional, with plush chairs, a makeup station, and a neatly arranged buffet table laden with fruit, finger sandwiches, and those perfectly packaged snacks you always imagined celebrities lived on. The catering staff smiled appreciatively as you adjusted the placement of a tray.

You went to go change into your nicer clothes and tiny black kitten heels. You had just enough time to stash your bag somewhere out of sight before everyone started moving franticly.

The door to the green room creaked open, and in walked TWICE.

Nayeon led the group, her smile lighting up the room as she exchanged a few words with a staff member. Behind her, the rest of the group filed in, chatting amongst themselves in soft Korean. You froze for a moment, clutching a water bottle in your hand, trying to look casual as your heart raced.

“Wow, they really went all out for this,” Dahyun said in Korean, gesturing toward the snack table. “I don’t think we’ve ever had this much fruit before.”

Chaeyoung smirked. “Dahyun, you’d say that even if it was just an apple and a banana.”

Tzuyu leaned toward Mina, her voice soft and melodic looking at the monitor in the corner. “The stage lighting looks amazing, doesn’t it? It feels so warm.”

Mina nodded, her tone thoughtful. “It’s perfect. I think the fans will love it.”

They began to spread out, scanning the room and chatting in their small groups. You tried to stay focused, pretending to adjust the water bottles while listening intently.

“Excuse me,” a gentle voice interrupted your thoughts. You looked up to see Sana standing a few feet away, a curious smile on her face. “Uh… water?” she asked in English, her accent charmingly thick as she gestured toward the bottles.

You quickly picked one up and handed it to her, forcing a polite smile. “Yes, here you go,” you said, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“Thank you,” she said brightly, taking the bottle. “Nice...” She motioned toward the snack table and gave you a small thumbs-up before returning to the group.

Meanwhile, Jeongyeon had wandered toward a catering staff member, her English more deliberate but clear. “This… for us?” she asked, pointing at the trays.

“Yes,” the staff member replied. “It’s all for you. Please help yourselves.”

Jeongyeon nodded, looking impressed. “Very nice. Thank you.”

Nayeon, ever the social butterfly, spotted you lingering by the table. “Hello!” she greeted cheerfully in English, making you jump slightly. “You… work here?”

You nodded quickly. “Yes. I’m just helping with the setup today.”

“Ah, good job!” she said with a grin, her Korean accent giving the words a playful lilt. “This… all looks very good.”

“Thank you,” you managed, heat rushing to your cheeks.

As they settled in, their conversations switched fluidly between Korean and broken English, depending on who they were speaking to. Jihyo exchanged a few words with the event coordinator about the schedule, effortlessly mixing both languages.

“Soundcheck… now?” she asked, her English with large pauses but clear.

“Soon,” the coordinator replied. “You have a little time to eat first.”

“Good,” Jihyo said, nodding firmly before turning back to the group to relay the information in Korean.

The room buzzed with warmth and activity, their laughter mixing with the casual chatter of staff members. You couldn’t help but feel awestruck by how approachable they were, even as global superstars. Every interaction, whether in Korean or English, only made them feel more human—and somehow, even more dazzling.

As the group began to relax, you continued tidying up the snack table, doing your best to stay invisible. But you couldn’t help overhearing their conversations—especially the ones you weren’t supposed to understand.

“Did you see her?” Sana murmured to Nayeon in Korean, her voice low but full of curiosity.

“Who?” Nayeon replied, leaning slightly toward her.

“That staff member by the table,” Sana said, nodding subtly in your direction. “They’re really pretty, don’t you think?”

Nayeon glanced at you for a brief moment, her eyes sparkling with amusement before she turned back to Sana. “Oh, I noticed,” she said with a sly smile. “They’re very elegant. It’s rare to see someone like that working backstage.”

Dahyun, catching wind of the conversation, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “What are you two whispering about?”

Nayeon waved her off playfully. “Nothing. Just admiring the staff here. Very organized, very… visually pleasing.”

Chaeyoung raised an eyebrow, overhearing as well. “Wait, are you all talking about them?” she asked, her tone teasing as she subtly gestured toward you. “Yeah, they’re cute. I noticed earlier.”

You kept your head down, pretending to focus on rearranging the water bottles, but your cheeks were burning. Hearing them talk about you like that, assuming you didn’t understand a word, made your heart race.

Mina joined the conversation with a small, approving nod. “I agree. There’s something… calm about them. It’s nice.”

Jihyo laughed softly. “You all sound like you’re picking a favorite contestant on a reality show. Be professional.” But even she glanced your way with a subtle smile, clearly not immune to the group’s observations.

Tzuyu, ever the quiet observer, finally chimed in. “They do seem kind,” she said simply, her voice soft but sincere.

Sana giggled, leaning closer to Dahyun. “Should we talk to them more? Maybe invite them to hang out later?”

“Stop it,” Nayeon said, feigning exasperation. “They’re working! Don’t make it awkward.”

You busied yourself even more, carefully pretending you had no idea what was being said, but every word made your chest tighten with a mix of embarrassment and giddy disbelief. They thought you were pretty. TWICE thought you were pretty.

“Do you think they know Korean?” Chaeyoung asked suddenly, tilting her head.

“Doubt it,” Dahyun replied. “They haven’t reacted to anything we’ve said.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. It took everything in you to keep your expression neutral, even as their words replayed in your head.

"Should we test it?" Chaeyoung asked. "Say something outrageous and see if she reacts?"

Jihyo came over and playfully slapped Chaeyoungs arm. "Don't be mean. She's probably just nervous. Leave her be."

She couldn't let it go. Chaeyoung wandered over to you. Your hands meticulously move bottles fractions of inches repeatedly. "You...very busy hun?" She managed in broken English.

You glanced at her, smiled politely, and nodded speaking slower than normal so she could catch more of it. "Yes, keeping things organized for you."

“Good,” she replied, her tone teasing as she switched back to Korean. “So professional. I think we’re making her nervous.”

“You’re making ME nervous,” Nayeon quipped, rolling her eyes. “Stop messing around. You’re going to scare her away.”

Sana, however, seemed utterly unfazed. “But seriously,” she said, her tone lowering as she addressed the group in Korean, “look at her hair and outfit. So well put together. Not to mention her face. It’s impressive.”

Dahyun smirked. “You’re really taken with her, huh?”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Sana shot back. “It’s not every day you meet someone who looks like they walked out of a drama while setting up a snack table.”

This time, you couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at your lips. You turned your back to them, pretending to check on the fruit tray, hoping they didn’t catch the slight quirk of your expression.

“Did she just smile?” Momo whispered, narrowing her eyes slightly. “I think she might understand us.”

“No way,” Dahyun said, shaking her head. “She’s been quiet this whole time. Probably just coincidence.”

Still, the idea seemed to spark a new level of intrigue among the group. Jeongyeon, who had been sitting quietly, glanced at you and said in English, “You… like music?”

Caught off guard, you hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Me? Yes, I do. Your music is quite good.”

“Thanks,” she said simply, her smile warm but brief. Then she turned back to the group and said in Korean, “See? She’s nice and a fan. Let’s not overwhelm her.”

Tzuyu, who had been observing everything silently, finally spoke up. “Maybe we should invite her to the show later. Watch in the wings,” she said in Korean.

“Really?” Jihyo asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Why not?” Tzuyu shrugged. “It’d be a nice gesture.”

You pretended not to hear, focusing on folding some napkins, but your heart felt like it was doing cartwheels. If they followed through with that idea, how were you supposed to stay composed?

Sana waved you over pulled up her translator app and typed out, 'Would you like to watch the show from backstage?' but when the electronic voice read it out in English it came out as 'Do you want to see the show behind the scenes?'

You understood it regardless. You stared at her phone then back at her then back down again and just nodded thanking her. "Really? Yes, yes, please. Thank you."

Momo smirked. "Ok, that was adorable."

Sana grabbed your hands and smiled wide genuinely happy that you seemed so interested. When she let go you scurried back to behind the table blushing like a mad woman with your fingers twirling around each other.

"I stand corrected. That's the cutest thing I've ever seen," Momo said. "Look Sana, you made her all flustered."

You refused to look up now having a convenient reason to be blushy and shy. As you busied yourself with unnecessary adjustments to the napkin display, you could feel the weight of their gazes. The warmth in your cheeks was practically radiating at this point, and no amount of deep breathing seemed to help.

“I think we broke her,” Chaeyoung teased in Korean, earning a chuckle from the group.

“Stop teasing,” Jihyo said, though her tone was more amused than scolding. “She agreed, didn’t she? That’s enough for now.”

Sana beamed, her excitement palpable. “I’ll make sure she gets a good spot,” she declared in Korean, clearly thrilled at the prospect of including you in their world, even if only for a little while.

From your side of the room, you peeked up just in time to see Sana still grinning in your direction. It wasn’t the kind of smile you’d expect from a superstar—it was warm, sincere, and oddly grounding. You managed a small wave, which only seemed to delight her further.

As the group settled into their pre-show routine, the flurry of activity grew. Makeup artists and hairstylists began their work, and the atmosphere shifted into one of focused preparation. You tried to keep out of the way, but the occasional glance or kind word from the members reminded you just how surreal this moment was.

Eventually, Nayeon wandered over, her casual confidence as radiant as ever. “You okay?” she asked in English, tilting her head slightly.

“Yes,” you replied quickly, your voice a touch higher than you intended. “Thank you for asking.”

She smiled, her eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. “Good. Don’t let Sana scare you. She… very friendly.”

You chuckled softly, nodding. “I noticed.”

As the minutes ticked by, the group prepared to head to the stage for their private sound check. Just before they left, Sana turned back to you with a quick wave and an encouraging smile. “See you later!” she said in English, her words simple but filled with warmth.

You nodded, managing a quiet, “See you,” in return. As they filed out of the room, you finally allowed yourself to exhale fully. You leaned against the edge of the snack table, your heart still pounding.

As the green room emptied, the flurry of energy faded, leaving you in a blissful yet surreal calm. Twice had just been standing there, talking to you—not at you, not above you, but like you were part of the team. It felt too good to be true, but the slight ache in your cheeks from smiling confirmed that it was very real.

Still, the thought of being invited backstage for the actual concert was almost too much to process. You replayed Sana’s gesture in your mind—the way she grabbed your hands, her bright smile, the genuine excitement in her voice. It was the kind of thing you’d only dreamed about.

After the soundcheck, your friend finally reappeared, looking as smug as ever. “So? How’s my favorite ‘just helping out for the day’ staff member?” she teased, a knowing glint in her eyes.

“You set me up,” you accused, though there wasn’t much heat behind it.

“I did you a favor,” she shot back, crossing her arms. “Come on, you’re freaking out, aren’t you? You met Twice. They love you.”

You hesitated, debating whether to admit how much you’d overheard. “They were… really nice,” you said carefully. “And, uh, they invited me to watch the show from backstage.”

Her eyes widened, and then she burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you’ve been here, like, two hours, and you’re already besties with Twice? That’s iconic.”

“Stop,” you groaned, but her laughter was infectious. “I don’t know how I’m going to keep it together. I mean, Sana literally held my hands, and Nayeon asked if I was okay, and—” You cut yourself off, realizing you were rambling. “I’m doomed.”

“You’re not doomed,” she said, grinning. “You’re lucky. Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position right now?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I know, I know. It’s just… overwhelming.”

“Well, get used to it,” she said, clapping you on the back. “Because you’re about to have the best night of your life.”

The hours passed in a blur. You helped with final preparations, making sure everything in the green room stayed tidy and well-stocked. The buzz of the venue grew louder as fans began arriving, their excitement palpable even from backstage. The Twice members returned briefly to grab drinks and snacks, their energy shifting into show mode.

Each of them had a way of preparing—Jeongyeon hummed quietly to herself, Jihyo went over notes with a staff member, and Sana, as bubbly as ever, flitted around the room, checking on everyone, including you. Every interaction, no matter how small, leaves you feeling more grounded in the moment as if this surreal experience was meant to happen.

Finally, it was time for the concert. True to her word, Sana guided you to a spot near the wings where you could see the stage without getting in anyone’s way.

“You okay?” she asked again, her tone light but genuinely concerned.

“Yes,” you replied, giving her a small smile. “Thank you.”

Her face lit up, and she gave you a quick thumbs-up before joining the others. Moments later, the lights dimmed, and the roar of the crowd filled the air. You watched in awe as the members took the stage, their presence electrifying. It was one thing to see them perform on a screen, but witnessing their energy, precision, and charisma up close was something else entirely.

From your spot, you could see not only the performance but also the little interactions between the members—the quick glances, the shared smiles, the subtle nods of encouragement. It was a side of them the audience rarely got to see, and it made the experience all the more special.

As the show went on, you found yourself completely immersed, cheering quietly from the sidelines and feeling a sense of pride for a group you’d admired for so long. When Sana caught your eye mid-performance and winked, you nearly melted on the spot.

By the time the concert ended, you were on cloud nine. As the members came backstage, still buzzing with adrenaline, Sana made a beeline for you.

“So? How was it?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Incredible,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you for letting me watch.”

She grinned, leaning in slightly. “You’re welcome. It was fun.”

Before you could respond, the rest of the group began filing in, offering you nods, smiles, and even a few casual “thank yous” in passing. Nayeon gave you a quick pat on the shoulder as she walked by, and Jihyo offered a warm, “Good job today.”

As the chaos settled and the members started winding down, your friend appeared again, looking thoroughly pleased with herself.

“See?” she said, nudging you. “I told you this would be the best night of your life.”

The post-concert buzz was palpable, with staff bustling around to pack things up while the members of Twice cooled down, chatting amongst themselves. You stayed in your corner, observing quietly, savoring the memories of the night.

You were carefully arranging water bottles on a nearby table when chaos erupted. A loud crash sounded from the other side of the room, followed by the unmistakable sound of hurried footsteps. One of the backstage doors had been flung open, and a man—clearly not a staff member—was charging toward the group of idols.

Everything happened so fast, but instinct kicked in. You spotted him barreling toward Sana, whose back was turned. Without thinking, you shouted in Korean, "Be careful! Behind you!"

Sana turned just in time to see the man, her eyes wide with alarm. Fortunately, security was already on him, tackling him to the ground before he could get any closer. The room erupted in frantic murmurs, staff rushing in to ensure everyone was okay.

Breathing heavily, you looked around to see Twice staring—more specifically, at you. Jihyo was the first to speak, her eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. "Wait… you can speak Korean?"

You froze, realizing what had just happened. There was no hiding it now. With a sheepish smile, you nodded. "Yes… a little."

Nayeon let out a loud laugh, slapping her thigh. "A little? You just spoke perfectly!"

Dahyun looked equal parts impressed and amused. "So, you understood everything we said earlier?"

Your cheeks flushed, and you ducked your head slightly. "Yes, I heard it," you admitted, bracing for their reactions.

Momo clapped her hands together, looking delighted. "Why didn’t you say anything? Do you know how awkward we were being?"

Sana stepped closer, her expression a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. "Then… did you hear when I said you were pretty earlier?"

You nodded, your face growing hotter by the second. “Yes, I heard that too.”

The group exploded into laughter, their teasing and playful remarks blending together. Jihyo shook her head, a fond smile on her face. "You’re amazing. You stayed so quiet this whole time."

Chaeyoung grinned mischievously. "So you did understand when I said something weird, huh?"

Trying to lighten the mood, you shrugged. "I was just trying to focus on my work."

Tzuyu smiled softly, her voice calm amidst the laughter. "And you protected us. Thank you."

Her sincere words seemed to settle the room, and Sana reached out to gently squeeze your arm. "Really, thank you. Because of you, nothing bad happened."

Though the teasing didn’t stop entirely, it took on a more affectionate tone. They were clearly impressed—and grateful. As the night wound down, you couldn’t help but feel like the bond you’d formed with the group had deepened unexpectedly and unforgettably.

The room gradually settled as the adrenaline from the incident ebbed away, leaving only the warm hum of conversation and soft laughter. You busied yourself by tidying up the snack table, partly to distract yourself from the knowing glances and teasing smiles still coming your way. Your face was burning, and you couldn’t meet their eyes for too long without feeling like you might combust.

Sana was the first to approach you again, her usual playful smile tinted with genuine shyness this time. She tilted her head slightly, clasping her hands behind her back as she hesitated before speaking. "Um," she started in Korean before switching to English. “You… very brave. Thank you.”

You waved your hands in front of you, flustered. "It—it was nothing, really. I’m just glad everyone’s okay."

Sana giggled softly. "No, you were really cool." She glanced back at the group, who were all watching the interaction with varying degrees of amusement and encouragement. “Uh… do you… have phone?” she asked hesitantly, her accent adorably thick.

You blinked, caught off guard. “My phone?”

Nayeon, who couldn’t resist jumping into the moment, called out in Korean. "You might as well ask for her number!"

Sana whirled around, her cheeks pink. “Unnie!” she scolded before turning back to you, her bashfulness now painfully evident. “I mean… number? For… talking later?” She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, her confidence faltering.

Your heart was pounding as you fumbled for words. “Oh, um, yeah, sure. I can—yeah.” You pulled out your phone, your hands trembling slightly as you unlocked it and handed it to her. Hopefully, fast enough she didn't realize your wallpaper was her.

Sana quickly typed her number in, then smiled shyly as she handed it back to you. “Text me… sometime?”

Before you could respond, Dahyun chimed in with a sly grin. "Should we invite her to our group chat?"

Momo snickered. "Don’t overwhelm her."

“Maybe,” Sana said, glancing at you with a playful smile before joining the group again, leaving you standing there with her number saved in your phone and a heart racing faster than it probably ever had.

As the evening wound down and the group prepared to leave, several of them waved and offered warm goodbyes. Sana lingered just a moment longer, catching your eye as she gave you a small, almost nervous wave. "Good night," she said softly before disappearing with the others.

You stared at your phone again, the contact glowing on the screen like a dream made real. This was a night you’d never forget—and perhaps, the beginning of something even more extraordinary.

[tkdb-hell]

Hi, do you perhaps still take requests for the kissing thing? If yes, could you please write prompt 37 with Sho? 🥺

#37 - Cleaning the other person’s lips with a lick and a kiss.

Kisses Prompt List • Kisses Masterlist

(I do my best to write the reader as gender neutral unless otherwise specified - if you send me an ask and prefer masc or fem, please let me know)

♡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ♡

The soft hum of Sho’s food truck was like a melody, blending seamlessly with the faint chatter of nearby students. The air carried the warm aroma of freshly cooked pasta, mingling with the crisp evening breeze.

You sat on a small stool just outside the truck, cradling a plate of Sho’s signature marinara pasta. The savory tang of the sauce danced on your taste buds as you took another bite, glancing up at Sho. He leaned casually against the counter inside, arms crossed and a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Not bad, huh?” Sho teased, watching your reaction closely.

“Not bad?” You gave him a playful glare. “This is amazing. You should be charging way more for this.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “If I did that, I’d lose all my regulars. Besides, I like watching you try to eat without making a mess.”

You rolled your eyes, swallowing your bite. “Oh, please. I’m perfectly—”

Before you could finish your sentence, Sho leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing.

“You’ve got a little…” He gestured vaguely to his own lips, a mischievous glint in his gaze.

Your hand instinctively went to your mouth, but Sho’s voice stopped you.

“Nope. Let me.”

Before you could react, Sho leaned closer, his hand steadying himself against the counter. The world seemed to slow as he tilted his head, brushing his thumb lightly across the corner of your mouth. Instead of pulling away, he surprised you further.

His tongue darted out, a quick flick to clean the spot before he sealed it with a kiss. It was soft, almost casual, yet it sent a jolt through your entire body.

Sho pulled back just enough to smirk at your stunned expression, his thumb now grazing his own bottom lip.

“Can’t waste good sauce,” he said nonchalantly, as if his move hadn’t just left your heart pounding.

Your mind raced for a response, but all you managed was, “You—did you really just—”

Sho shrugged, grabbing a nearby cloth to wipe his hands. “What? You had sauce on your lip. I cleaned it up. You should be thanking me.”

The teasing edge in his voice was enough to pull you out of your shock. “Thanking you? You just kissed me out of nowhere!”

“Yeah, and?” He leaned back against the counter, his smirk growing. “You complaining?”

Your cheeks flushed as you fumbled for a comeback. Sho just chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“Next time, try not to make a mess,” he said, turning back to his work.

But as he busied himself with cleaning a pan, you noticed the faintest hint of pink creeping up his ears.

[djmaliksmix]

Matilda ~ Harry Styles x reader

warnings: fluff, crying

a/n: hey lovesss! Ik I said I would be coming out with the 2nd part to “where the light enters” but I’m still trying to perfect it so give me some time but it will come I promise!

For this fic I wanted to write abt Harry and his song Matilda bc it’s my fav Harry song. I actually came up with an idea for a fic as I was listening to it LOL so I hope you enjoy! 🤍

Summary: Y/n and Harry have been best friends since he started his career in one direction and they’ve always had feelings for each other but it just has never been the right time. The band has went on their hiatus (but they still talk) and Harry has been in his solo career for a while now. He writes Matilda for the reader and she loves it. Then they hangout with the boys (Louis, Liam, Zayn, and Niall) to just catch up and Harry and y/n tell them about the song and what happened when Harry showed you.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the studio windows, casting long streaks of light across the floor. Harry sat at the mixing desk, headphones hanging around his neck and a pencil balanced between his fingers. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the equipment, and yet his mind was anything but quiet.

He’d rehearsed this moment in his head a hundred times—showing her the song, watching her reaction—but now that she was here, he felt a familiar nervousness creeping in.

The door creaked open, and there she was, her curly hair slightly tousled from the wind outside and a coffee cup in her hand. She paused in the doorway, her gaze settling on him with a smile.

“You’ve been holed up in here all day, haven’t you?” she teased, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

Harry smirked, spinning his chair to face her. “What can I say? A genius doesn’t take breaks.”

“Modest as always.” She rolled her eyes playfully but crossed the room to sit on his comfortable couch that he had in his studio. Her presence grounded him in a way nothing or no one else could.

They fell into an easy rhythm, talking about her day and the book she’d been reading, and Harry and how his studio hours have been going, but Harry could feel the weight of the song pressing on him. Finally, as her laughter trailed off, he cleared his throat.

“I, uh, actually have something I want to show you,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Oh? Is this the big secret project you’ve been working on?”

“Something like that.” He reached for a pair of headphones on the desk and handed them to her. “It’s called Matilda.”

She nodded. “Oh! Like my favorite movie!”

He smiled, “yes, we used to watch it all the time together when we were younger.

She laughed to herself, “yeah! I remember that!”

“I wrote it for you.” He said with the upmost intent in his tone. He smiled softly.

Frankly, he was nervous out his mind on how she would react to the entire song but he was even more nervous on how she would react when he told her he wrote it for her.

“Oh Harry! Really?!” She said smiling, genuinely happy that he would even think of her in the very tight scheduled work that he does.

He nodded. “I wanted to show it to you first though. Before I put it on the album so it wouldn’t be a surprise.” He said thoughtfully.

“That’s so sweet! Thank you Harry!” She said getting up to hug him. He always loved when they hugged.

Harry watched her carefully, his heart pounding as she slipped on the headphones. He could feel the weight of this moment pressing down on him—Matilda wasn’t just a song. It was a piece of her story, a mirror he hoped would reflect how much she deserved to let go of the pain she carried.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

She nodded, her fingers gripping the edges of the headphones like they might anchor her. “I think so.”

Harry pressed play.

The soft opening notes filled the space between them, and he leaned back, his chair creaking faintly. At first, her face was neutral, her head tilted slightly as she took in the melody. But as the lyrics began—“You were riding your bike to the sound of ‘It’s No Big Deal’...”—he saw the shift. Her lips parted slightly, and her brows knit together in recognition.

By the time the first chorus came around, she was leaning forward, her elbows on her knees. Harry watched as her fingers curled into the fabric of her jeans, her breathing slow but deliberate. The words were sinking in.

When the second verse began, her hand moved instinctively to cover her mouth. The tears started slowly, one sliding down her cheek, then another. She closed her eyes briefly, as if to steady herself, but it didn’t stop the flood.

Harry’s voice carried through the headphones, soft but resolute:

“You can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know. Not invite your family, ‘cause they never showed you love.”

Her shoulders trembled slightly, the weight of the song pressing down on her. She pulled the headphones off for a moment, her eyes wide and glistening with tears.

“Harry…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “This is—”

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “Take your time.” Harry said kindly.

She nodded, wiping her cheeks quickly, before slipping the headphones back on. Harry moved from his chair at the table to sit next to her on the couch. His heart in his throat as he watched her listen.

He held her hand in support.

And then came the part he had worked on the longest, the part he had poured his soul into.

“I don’t believe that time will change your mind…”

She froze, her breath hitching audibly.

His voice rose, raw and full of emotion, carrying the words with a conviction that made the room feel alive.

“In other words, I know they won’t hurt you anymore as long as you can let them go…”

The multiple layers of ranges his voice went into on this one line was like an angel’s cry.

It was beautiful.

Her reaction was instantaneous. Her hand squeezed his. Her lips quivered, her eyes squeezed shut, and her body moved lightly with silent sobs.

That single line shattered her soul. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way Harry sang them, the way his voice climbed higher, breaking slightly with the force of his emotion. He wasn’t just singing; he was pleading with her, telling her with every note that she could be free of the pain she carried.

She pulled the headphones off again, setting them down carefully on the armrest of the couch before covering her face with her hands.

��Hey, hey,” Harry said softly, moving closer to her. He held her face in his hands. His green eyes piercing through her soul. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she shook her head, her voice trembling. “It’s like you took every part of me I’ve tried to hide, every part I thought no one could see, and you…you put it into words. Into music.”

Harry’s eyes glistened, but he smiled softly. “That’s because I see you. All of you. And I want you to know you don’t have to carry it anymore.”

Her breath hitched, and she leaned forward, resting her forehead on his neck. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

“I think I do,” he whispered.

The moment stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Then, as if by instinct, she leaned in, her lips brushing against his. Harry stilled for a heartbeat before kissing her back, his hand moving to cradle her cheek. The kiss was soft and unhurried, filled with all the emotions they hadn’t yet put into words.

When they pulled apart, her cheeks were flushed, and his thumb brushed away the tears that lingered.

“You’re not alone anymore,” Harry said, his voice steady but gentle. “Not with me.”

She gave a small, tearful laugh, her smile finally breaking through. “You’re too good at this, you know, making me vulnerable, breaking me open.”

He chuckled, resting his forehead against hers again. “If it means you’ll finally believe how amazing you are, I’ll keep doing it.”

He got into a more comfortable position on the couch and she lay on his chest, hearing his heart beat. He ran his fingers through her curls. And she had her arms around his chest. Holding him tight, she wished that she could stay like this forever.

This is where she wanted to be.

Where she was always meant to be.

She didn’t feel lost anymore, she felt whole.

It was the most beautiful experience they both have had in life. Harry was forever grateful that she was the one he could show it to first.

And for her to have all the emotions with just them two in the room is a memory only they’ll have.

And she loved it.

They stayed like that for a while, the song still playing softly in the background, its message now woven into the quiet, shared understanding between them.

~~~~~~~~~

A week later, Harry found himself standing outside Louis’s house, a bottle of wine in one hand and a small gift bag in the other. The boys had decided to get together, a rare occurrence now that their solo careers had taken them in different directions.

Y/n now officially Harry’s girlfriend,had been one of Harry’s best friend for years, and though she hadn’t joined the boys for many of their previous hangouts, she’d agreed to come this time. After all, Harry had invited her, and they both knew the boys would be pestering him about the song—and why he’d been so secretive about it.

He walked back down the sidewalk to open the car door for y/n. “Why thank you Mr. Styles.” She said playfully and smiled. He smiled softly, “Anything for you my love.”

He put the gift bag in the same hand as the wine and held her hand.

She could tell he was nervous, his palms were sweating and he was moving his hand a lot.

“Nervous?” she teased, nudging his arm.

“Not nervous,” Harry said, though his voice shakes slightly. “Just…prepared for the shit I’m about to get from my best mates.” Harry said, fake smiling.

“They’ll be nice,” she said with a grin. “Maybe.” He said under his breath.

The door swung open before they could knock, and Louis’s familiar grin greeted them. “Look who finally decided to show up! Come on, you guys, we’ve been waiting.”

Inside, the living room was a flurry of laughter and conversation. Niall was perched on the arm of the couch, already halfway through a bag of chips, while Zayn leaned back on the other end of the couch, propping his feet up on the ottoman. Liam was pouring drinks, his usual calm presence grounding the chaotic energy.

“Harry!” Niall called, waving him over. “Y/n!” Niall said bringing you in for a hug. “It’s been years! He said in the same kind voice you remember him having.

“Hey Niall!” You said hugging him back.

She walked to the kitchen to greet Liam. He smiled. “It’s great to see you again love.” He said putting down the drink he was pouring into a cup. You smiled at the warmth of his voice. “You too, Liam.” You whispered.

Liam always had a welcoming demeanor.

She walked back to the living room where Zayn and Niall were sitting.

Y/n sat on the cushion next to Zayn and Harry sat right next to her.

Zayn smiled, “hey y/n, it’s been too long. He side hugged her.

“Hey Zayn” you said smiling trying to match his mysterious tone and presence.

“Ahh, the lovely y/n finally graces us with her presence,” Louis chimed in, exaggeratedly clutching his chest. “I feel honored.”

“Please Louis, don’t make it sound like I’ve been living under a rock,” she replied with a sarcastic smile. “We’ve known each other for years. We just haven’t seen each other in so long.”

“Well, you were always with him,” Niall teased, gesturing toward Harry.

“Oh, that’s what it was,” she said, smirking at Harry. “You just didn’t want to share your best friend with the rest of them.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed, “I- I- well-“ he said stuttering. He wasn’t rly good at showing his emotions outwards, only to the one person privately.

Louis laughed and said, “Look at ole Harry getting flustered by his girl!”

Zayn, Liam, and Niall, smiled and looked at each other. They were really happy that Harry was happy and in a good place.

Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin on his face. “You’re too funny.”

The guys launched into their usual banter, with Niall and Louis cracking sarcastic jokes at Harry’s expense, Zayn occasionally chiming in with minimal but pointed remarks, and Liam attempting to play the peacemaker. She slipped into the dynamic effortlessly, throwing in witty comebacks and keeping up with the lighthearted teasing.

But then, as the laughter died down, Louis turned to Harry with a knowing grin. “So, come on, mate. We’re dying to know—what’s up with this Matilda song? You’ve been all mysterious about it.”

Harry shot him a playful glare. “No one said you could know about it.”

“I think it’s a bit too late for that,” Niall quipped. “I heard you were all emotional in the studio. I bet it’s one of those ‘weepy ballads’.”

“Wouldn’t be the first,” Zayn added dryly from his chair, not looking up from his phone.

“Hey, there’s depth to a good cry,” y/n chimed in, glancing at Harry with a teasing smile. “Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve heard it.”

Harry sighed dramatically. “It’s not just a ballad.” His voice softened. “It’s…well, it’s for her.”

The room fell quiet. She met Harry’s gaze and smiled softly, her heart swelling at the way he cared for her.

Louis raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “Go on then, tell us. What’s this ‘Matilda’ really about?”

She turned to the group, not missing a beat. “Harry wrote it because he knows what I’ve been through. It’s about… letting go of the people who hurt you, and choosing to be your own person.”

The guys exchanged looks, their expressions softening as they listened.

“I cried when I heard it,” she continued, glancing at Harry. “It was like he knew exactly what I needed to hear. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so seen in my life.”

There was a collective silence before Zayn—ever minimal—said simply, “She’s not wrong, though. Harry is one of the most understanding people.”

Niall blinked. “Wait, hold up. Harry? Mr. ‘I Can’t Let My Feelings Show’ Styles?”

“Yeah,” she replied with a teasing grin. “Turns out he’s got layers.” She said teasingly.

“Who would’ve guessed,” Louis muttered with a playful eye roll.

The moment of levity didn’t take away from the underlying warmth in the room, the connection between the group stronger than ever. Harry squeezed her hand, his gaze soft but full of affection, grateful that, with these people, they had a family—a family that saw them, truly saw them, for who they were.

“Well, there you have it,” Harry said, chuckling as he leaned back. “Not all of us are too cool to have feelings.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Liam added, raising his glass.

They all clinked glasses, a toast to old friends, new bonds, and the kind of love that made you feel like you could finally breathe.

This was your family.

[techhiz]

Hello!!! May I please request a Earthspark Bumblebee x femme s/o who is a decepticon (but is actually a genuinely a nice person who is more of a chaotic neutral) where their relationship is kept secret cuz yk the whole autobots vs decepticons, and they secretly meet up every once in awhile and the maltos see bumblebee sneaking out and they get suspicious so they decide to follow him. they find out bumblebee is with a decepticon and misunderstandings happens with them thinking y/n is gonna do something bad and chaos ensues

If this is too complicated please feel free to decline!! I genuinely don't mind ^^

If you do however agree to do this please take your time with it and take care of yourself!!

Secrets

The moon hung high over Witwicky, its silvery light casting soft shadows across the forested hills. Bumblebee crept carefully through the darkened Malto family property, his servos moving in practiced silence. He glanced back toward the house, where the family’s laughter had faded into the quiet of the night. Satisfied no one was watching, he transformed and sped into the woods.

What the Malto kids didn’t know—what nobody could know—was that Bumblebee wasn’t heading off on some standard patrol.

Deep in the forest, at a hidden clearing illuminated only by the faint glow of Cybertronian optics, you were waiting.

"Bee," you greeted with a playful smirk, your Decepticon insignia glinting faintly in the moonlight.

"Y/N," Bumblebee replied, his tone light as he transformed back into bot mode. His optics softened as he approached you. "I missed you."

"Missed me? It’s only been a week," you teased, crossing your arms.

"Yeah, well, a week’s a long time when your spark’s somewhere else." His voice carried that familiar Bumblebee charm, but his tone softened as he reached for your servo.

Your tough demeanor cracked, and you smiled, your servo brushing against his. "You’re lucky you’re cute."

Meanwhile at the Malto Household...

Robbie sat on the porch, his curiosity piqued when he saw Bumblebee sneaking off earlier. He nudged Mo, who was sprawled out beside him.

"Hey, Mo. Did you see Bee just now?"

"Yeah, I saw him sneaking out," Mo replied, sitting up with a conspiratorial grin. "You thinking what I’m thinking?"

"Let’s follow him!"

Twitch and Thrash, always up for an adventure, quickly joined in. "We’ll track him from the air," Twitch suggested, her optics glowing with determination.

The group set off, following Bumblebee’s tracks deeper into the forest.

You and Bumblebee stood close, leaning against a fallen log as you exchanged stories. The war might’ve left scars on both sides, but moments like these made you forget, even if just for a while.

"You ever think about what’ll happen if someone finds out about… us?" you asked, your voice unusually serious.

Bumblebee sighed, glancing at the stars. "I think about it all the time. But then I remember why we’re here—why we’re doing this—and it makes it worth the risk."

You smiled softly. "You’re such a sap."

"And you love it," he teased, leaning closer.

The moment stretched between you, the tension was palpable as Bumblebee’s optics locked onto yours. His servo moved to cup your cheek, and you tilted your helm, your spark fluttering as his face inched closer.

"Freeze, Decepticon!"

The shout shattered the intimacy like glass hitting the ground. Bumblebee and you whipped around to see Robbie, Mo, Twitch, and Thrash charging into the clearing. Twitch had her blaster aimed at you, her optics blazing with determination.

"Kids?!" Bumblebee exclaimed, stepping protectively in front of you.

"You don’t have to defend her, Bee!" Robbie shouted. "We know she’s up to something!"

"Yeah, no way she’s just… hanging out!" Mo added, her brows furrowed.

You raised your servos in mock surrender, trying to stifle your frustration. "Okay, this is not what it looks like—"

"Save it!" Twitch interrupted, her blaster still aimed.

Bumblebee groaned, rubbing his helm. "Guys, listen. Y/N’s not like that. She’s not a threat."

"She’s a Decepticon!" Thrash emphasized, his frame bristling.

"Yes, and also a perfectly nice person," Bumblebee shot back.

The kids exchanged skeptical glances. Twitch’s optics narrowed. "How do we know she isn’t tricking you?"

"Because if I wanted to do something bad, I would’ve done it already," you retorted, rolling your optics. "Seriously, does everyone think Decepticons don’t have hobbies or love lives?"

That seemed to momentarily confuse them, but they remained cautious.

"Why didn’t you tell us, Bee?" Mo asked, her voice softer now.

Bumblebee sighed heavily. "Because I knew you’d react like this. And I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea."

Robbie crossed his arms. "Well, mission not accomplished."

Eventually, after a lot of explaining, the kids lowered their guard. They weren’t entirely convinced, but they agreed to keep your relationship a secret for now.

As they left the clearing, Bumblebee turned back to you, his optics filled with apology. "I’m so sorry about that."

You shrugged, smirking. "I guess it’s part of the territory when you’re dating the infamous Bumblebee."

He chuckled, pulling you into a tight embrace. "Still, I’ll make it up to you."

"How?" you teased.

"By finishing what we started," he said, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

Your optics fluttered closed, and for a moment, the chaos of the night melted away.

The kids, hiding behind the trees, whispered excitedly among themselves.

"Did you see that?" Mo whispered.

"Yeah," Robbie said, his expression a mix of shock and amusement. "Guess Bee’s got a thing for bad girls."

"Not bad," Twitch corrected, "just misunderstood."

Thrash grinned. "This is so going in the family album."

[sunshinedaisywrites777]

Shadows of the Past, Light of the Present (DI!Leon Kennedy x F!Reader)

Warnings- Bad experiences of the reader with her ex, age gap (Leon is in his 30's, reader is in her 20's)

A/N- Thank you everyone for all the likes and reblogs. All are much appreciated 💜

The mall was buzzing with life, filled with the chatter of families, the click of high heels on tiled floors, and the occasional excited squeal from children exploring toy stores. You and Leon wandered side by side, his hand comfortably resting at the small of your back.

“This place is huge,” Leon said, scanning the rows of electronics stores. “You sure we won’t get lost in here?”

You smirked. “We’ll be fine as long as you don’t run off.”

Leon chuckled. “Not a chance. I’m your bodyguard, remember?”

The two of you stepped into an electronics store, your eyes lighting up at the sight of sleek gadgets and shiny displays. Leon leaned against a shelf while you examined a set of wireless speakers.

“This one’s good,” you said, pointing to a compact model with excellent reviews.

Leon crossed his arms, tilting his head thoughtfully. “But does it work with that overkill TV you’re eyeing? Or are we gonna have to come back to upgrade the speakers next month?

You laughed, playfully nudging him. “Hey, quality matters! Plus, you’ll thank me when you’re watching movies with surround sound.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting the banter. Leon frowned as he checked the screen. “Work,” he muttered, his expression briefly serious. “I’ll just take this real quick, okay?”

“Go ahead,” you said, giving him a reassuring smile.

Leon stepped outside the store, leaving you to continue browsing. You were engrossed in comparing two models of soundbars when a voice you hadn’t heard in a long time pulled you from your thoughts.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

Your heart sank as you turned to see your ex standing a few feet away, hands in their pockets, a smirk playing on their lips.

“What do you want?” you asked, keeping your tone neutral.

“Relax, I’m just being friendly,” they said, though the edge in their voice was far from kind. “Funny running into you like this. Guess you’re still into shopping for shiny toys instead of fixing what’s real.”

You stiffened. “This isn’t the time or place for this. Just leave.”

But your ex wasn’t done. “I still can’t believe how fast you moved on. Does he know how clingy you get? Or how you used to cry over the smallest things? Must be exhausting for him.”

Their words hit a nerve, memories of the toxic relationship flashing through your mind. You clenched your fists, determined not to let them see you falter.

Just then, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

“I think you’ve said enough.”

Leon’s calm yet commanding tone made your ex visibly flinch. He strode up to you, his expression cool but his eyes sharp as they locked onto your ex.

“And who are you?” your ex asked, their confidence wavering.

“I’m the person who’s lucky enough to be with them,” Leon replied, standing close to you. “And unlike you, I actually know how to treat them with respect.”

Your ex scoffed. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

Leon stepped forward, his posture relaxed but intimidating. “Oh, I know plenty. I know they’re better off without someone who drags them down. And I know you’re wasting your time trying to get under their skin because nothing you say matters anymore.”

Your ex opened their mouth to retort, but Leon raised a hand.

“Save it. You’ve already said enough to prove why you’re in their past. So do yourself a favor and walk away before you embarrass yourself further.”

Your ex hesitated, then muttered something under their breath before slinking away into the crowd.

Leon turned to you, his expression softening immediately. “Hey, you okay?”

You nodded, though your voice trembled slightly. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

He touched your arm gently. “You don’t have to thank me. Nobody gets to treat you like that—not while I’m around.”

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “I mean it, Leon. You’re amazing.”

“Damn right I am,” he said with a small grin, pulling you into a comforting hug.

After a moment, he stepped back, his gaze playful. “Now, let’s get those speakers and grab some ice cream. I think we’ve earned it.”

The two of you continued shopping, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. Later, over bowls of ice cream at the food court, you found yourself laughing at his jokes and forgetting all about the earlier encounter.

That evening, as you set up the new gadgets at home, Leon’s goofy commentary and occasional mishaps filled the room with laughter. The warmth of his presence reminded you that, no matter what the past held, the future was brighter with him by your side.

[orbweaverspidergirl]

Chapter 2: sometimes love is not enough

summary: Jason Todd was your twin. He was your brother through thick and thin, and nothing would ever change that, but his death did. You're reminded of him every day. From his clothes you kept after his death to his ugly Robin suit that you still can't believe Bruce let him wear. Sometimes, you think you see him too. He's always in the corner of your eye when you're on patrol and you think maybe, just maybe, that he's watching over you.

tw: brief talks of reader being shirtless.

A/N: I also deleted the tags for batbro x batfam because it's hard for me not to envision the reader as a woman. I'm really sorry to my male reader, but I have my other work, The Coffee Shop, that is gender neutral. Also, the reader is a queer woman.

Gotham City

Drug Bust

2007

March 20

You shove a man against a wall, your hands coated in his blood. He’s a low-grade wannabe villain, but he was a pain in the ass to deal with. “Shocked, you had all this money, drug boy.” In the back you hear your partner, Shadow, snort.

“Doesn’t mean much to call him names when he’s passed out, Green.” You look at the middle-aged man passed out against the wall. 

“Aw shit. B’s gonna be so pissed, I was supposed to interrogate him.” You sigh; exhaustion clear in your voice. She pats your shoulder and hauls him with the rest of his goons on the floor. 

“Well, I’m sure that’ll be fun, but I gotta dip.” You nod and smile at her through the mask, but you know she can’t see it. 

“Be safe out there, Shadow.” She shoots pointer finger guns and jumps out of the second story window. You can’t see her as she disappears into the night and you think she picked the name, Shadow, perfectly. You look at the men on the floor and turn away. 

“Green, Batman is on the way.” Oracle speaks through the comms, and you nod. 

“Cool, I’m gonna get some fresh air, so tell B I’ll be on the roof.”      

“Heard.” She goes mute once more and you jump out the window, similar to Shadow. The air swoops your hood down as you grapple up the roof. It’s chilly and you wish your suit was more heat resistant. You’ll have to talk to Tim about upgrading your suit, he certainly had some sense after being the one to add pants to that horrid Robin outfit. You sit down on the ledge, legs dangling in the air. 

It was nice outside, even if you didn’t like the cold that much. Jason would have liked it. It was peaceful tonight, which was rare enough in Gotham. You turn your head when you hear footsteps and for a moment you think it’s Bruce, but you listened, and the footsteps reminded you of Jason. They were strong, but cautious and you could tell from the weight it was a man. 

You turn around and see a man in a wanna be Batman setup. You look him up and down, tranquilizer gun in your grip. “No need to pull out your toy.” His voice was modulated, and you scoff. 

“Says the wannabe Batman. Who the hell are you?” It’s Jason, you have a small voice in the back of your head whispering in your head and you falter because of it. You shouldn’t put the gun away, but you do, and you think the bastard is smiling under the mask, which makes you all the more mad. 

“I’m no one.” You roll your eyes. Anyone who has ever said that was someone that eventually became a pain in your ass, like Catwoman, but he didn’t have her charm, or her comforting touch after stealing something right from under your nose. 

“Try again, and don't pull a Catwoman on me, you aren’t very good at it, I’m afraid.” Your voice drips with sarcasm, and he walks closer. You think that he’s dumb, but maybe he knows you can’t bring yourself to shoot him. He reminds you too much of Jay, and that’s a bad thing because if he reminds you of your twin, then that means you're weak. You’ve learned the hard way that being weak gets you killed, that’s what happened to him after all. You were too weak to save your brother, and he paid the price for your mistake. 

It won’t happen again. 

You hear footsteps again and you see Bruce standing there, arms crossed. The wanna be from before is gone and you squeeze your fists. “You should always be aware of your surroundings.” You turn around, facing towards the city, rather than him. 

“I know, B. Won’t happen again, promise.” You feel him grow closer, and he pats your shoulder. He’s grown soft. For a moment, you feel angry. You wish he was soft with you when you were younger because that’s when you needed him to be soft. That’s when Jason needed him to be soft. If he was soft then, then maybe your brother wouldn’t have felt like he had to prove something. If Batman was soft, then maybe, just maybe your brother would still be alive. 

“We all have our off days.” You eye him. 

“I guess.” The conversation ends there. You think it’s for the best. 

Gotham City

Gotham University

2007

March 21

College wasn’t as whimsical as it was made to be. You thought it would be a breath of fresh air from the house you call home. You thought that it was going to be fun and free, you weren’t wrong, but you also weren’t right. Maybe for someone else it was that way, but not for you. Not when you can feel everyone’s pitiful glances and whispers thrown your way. 

“Isn’t she the girl who lost her brother?” A girl with blonde hair whispers behind you in American History. You recognize her as Tiffany, you had AP World History together. You never liked her much. 

“Yeah, but why’s that matter? Her family’s loaded, she probably got therapy as soon as her brother died.” If they counted crime fighting as therapy, then yes, you suppose you did get therapy. When he first died, you wouldn’t have reacted this way, calm and collected. You would have punched the bitch in the face. 

You were mean when he died. You think you always will be. In a sense, you took the place of Jay. He was on the gruffer side as a child, and you know plenty of people who would describe him as mean or scary. But now, it’s you. The brutish daughter of Bruce Wayne who went off the rails when her brother died. A tragic story indeed, is what you remember one reporter saying. He looked you dead in your eyes while saying it and you recall Dick tackling him to the ground. 

The media went wild for days, calling Dick protective of his little sister. He was, but you think they forgot the fact that Jason was as much of his brother as he was yours. Dick loved Jason more than his parents, you think. That was his first brother and Jay would always hold a special place in his heart. He felt the same about you, except you’ve been his one and only sister. In fact, you think he’s gotten more protective over the years, especially when you started bringing suitors home. 

You remember his eyes when you first brought a girl home. She was splayed out on your chest, and you held her hips, then your door was kicked in like no one knew what fucking manners were. And in all your glory, Dick saw a girl straddling your hips and hickeys on your neck with no shirt. Fun times. 

The class ends and you grab your bag. You think the girls knew you heard them because they fall behind and are the last ones to leave the room. Dumb bitches, you thought. Of course you would hear them, they practically fucking sucked at whispering. You try to calm your nerves by breathing, but it doesn’t work very well. Maybe you should get therapy. 

You smirk at the thought. The day you get therapy is the day Bruce cries in front of you or just cries at all. That’d certainly be a sight.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

New Year's Eve Kisses 2024

Note: It is once again that magic time of year. As is tradition around these parts, I have written five drabbles of characters from different fandoms to celebrate the New Year, specifically, the tradition where people kiss the one they love as midnight strikes. Sorry I’ve been so inactive as of late. I’ve been working on some big things in the writing sphere (as far as my original fiction is concerned anyway), but I hope you all enjoyed the two big fics I did post this year. May the new year smile on all of you, and may your reading and writing endeavors be fruitful. Love ya!

For additional context, Poe’s is a continuation of I Know the End, my big Star Wars fic from earlier this year. You don’t need to read it to enjoy this, but if you’re confused, that’s why. A little gendered language in that one (Princess and such) but the other four are gender neutral.

Fandoms: Wicked (Movie), Star Wars, DCEU (rip, she will be missed), DC CW Universe, Bridgerton (Show)

Total Word Count: 4.2k words

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, kissin’, some language

Fiyero Tigelaar

Words: 0.6k

Fiyero Tigelaar, the Winkie prince, was no stranger to a party. Unsurprisingly, he was tearing up the dance floor, dressed in his finest, just before he was meant to be sent off to his next school. When he’d arrived, he’d warned you he wouldn’t last long. He’d been right. He was going to Shiz University. But tonight, he intended to make the most of it.

As always, he had a flock of followers around him, fawning at his every move. You smirked into your glass, trying to avert your eyes. He didn’t need any more attention.

That, of course, didn’t stop him from coming over to you with that intoxicating look in his eye. The guy was charming, you had to give him that.

“And what are you doing over here?” He asked, leaning against the bar where you were perched.

“Celebrating the New Year, Your Highness.”

He grinned. “What, all alone?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You should be out there. On the floor. Dancing.” He said, motioning to the others, still lost in the rhythm of the song.

“Seems a little crowded.” You reasoned, smirking. “Don’t you have enough cronies?”

“I could use another.” He all but murmured, the tone of his voice making your heart shudder. “Besides, it’s my last night. I feel like I didn’t get to know you well enough.”

“Well, you did warn me not to get attached.”

He hummed at that, nodding. Still, he offered his hand and you hesitated for a long time before finally taking it. One final leap. It wouldn’t matter, in the long run. He was transferring schools, and you doubted you’d ever see him again. But you were kind of glad your paths had crossed.

And so you danced and danced and danced, twirling and laughing, not just with him, but with the others there, gathered on the dance floor while the Animal band played you off into the new year.

Then, at the end of the night, just before he could slip out unnoticed, you caught Fiyero leaving.

“Leaving so soon?”

“Told you not to get attached.” He said quietly, going through his satchel, that wry grin returning to that impossibly handsome face. “Came to see me off?”

“Didn’t mean to. I was making my escape, too.”

“Ah, I see. Well, it sounds like you’re missing the countdown in there.”

“That was kind of the point.”

He smirked. “Come here.”

“Why?”

“I never properly thanked you for your help in class. I’ve been told I’m quite…”

“You’re not stupid. I know you pretend to be.”

“Still, I was forgetful. Careless. You covered for me.” He smiled softly. “Thank you.”

Finally, you were right in front of him. He held something out. A token. A little, stitched seal from his home territory.

“I know it’s not much, but if you ever need anything, where I’m from, this is enough to get it for you.”

“Thank you, Fiyero. That’s really sweet.” You said softly.

“Happy New Year. Good luck with the rest of the year.” He said earnestly before that infamous smirk pulled at his lips again. “Try not to miss me too much.”

“No promises.” You said with a chuckle.

Then, something inexplicable happened. Fiyero took a step forward and pressed a long, soft kiss to your forehead. It was meaningful. Unlike the countless times he’d made out with countless members of the student body. Men and women alike. And yet, at the same time, you knew you were just a stepping stone. Passing ships.

Still, as you watched him ride off, you were glad you’d met.

Poe Dameron

Words: 0.9k

On base, no celebration was taken for granted. With all the constant fighting and battles, loss and destruction, you needed to spend some time celebrating when things went right. And for so long, so many years of your life, that had been the case.

But the war was over now. You were back on your home planet, Mariposas, ringing in the first new year as the princess of your people. The first new full year of peace in the galaxy. You dressed in one of your nicer gowns from the first war. One the Ewoks had made for you. It was hand-dyed with materials from their home moon, Endor.

You did your hair, setting a tiara on top. There was a knock on the doorframe, and suddenly, your fiancé was standing there, fiddling with the sash of some traditional Mariposan garb. It was a new thing, as he was not Mariposan. Instead, he was human. Very human. Now, an all-but-retired human pilot. A war veteran, and the soon-to-be prince of your home planet.

“Alright, give it to me straight. I look ridiculous.”

“You look handsome.” You reassured, walking closer, taking both of Poe’s hands in yours. Large and rough. Tan and calloused, both from the steering rod of his X-Wing as well as the blaster he fired for so many years. It hadn’t seen action in quite some time, thankfully. Still, it remained at his hip, much like your lightsaber remained on yours. “Princely, even.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not.” You insisted, shaking your head, gazing up at him. Your eyes glimmered with love. “Since when do I lie to you, Commander Dameron?”

“Hey, I thought we said no titles in private quarters, Your Highness.” He replied, lacing his fingers through your own, pulling one hand to his lips and beginning to kiss up your exposed arm. “You really think it suits me? I don’t want those dignitaries to laugh me out of the party.”

“I think everything suits you. But if you’re really that worried about it, I’ve still got that old flight suit of yours tucked into the back of the closet.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You and that flight suit…”

Rey cleared her throat. “Ready?”

“Yeah, we’re good. Heading down in a second. You look lovely, Rey.”

“Thank you. So do you.”

“Looking sharp, Poe.” Finn agreed, following after her in his new and improved Jedi robes. Since he’d finally begun the last leg of his training, it only made sense that he looked the part. It suited him. It really, really suited him.

“Right back at ya, Finn.” Poe grinned, watching as your friends walked down the hall. He let go of your hands and offered his elbow instead. “Well, shall we?”

You looped your arm through his, following him down to the beginnings of your party. The ballroom was filled with people. Mostly, your war friends and allies. Leia was there, Lando, Wedge, Snap and the rest of Black Squadron, and of course, your sister and her husband and son. Finn, Rey, and Ben. They all chatted, mingling through the large, mostly reconstructed ballroom.

You and Poe melted into the crowd, catching up with the people you hadn’t seen in forever, congratulating them on weddings and new babies, while all of them asked about yours, your planned wedding to one Mr. Poe Dameron, your fiancé and the love of your life. Admittedly, wedding plans had taken the backseat in favor of building your home planet back up from the literal ashes, opening your doors to war refugees, victims of the First Order who now found themselves without homes. Many of them were now in the room with you, celebrating their new lives, however different they were from their old ones.

It was good. It felt right.

Finally, at the end of the night, after several glasses of Mariposan mead, Poe found his way back to you, grinning that tired, tipsy grin of his. His arms wrapped around your waist and he rested his forehead against yours.

“Heeeeey, Princess. There you are. You look stunning. You having fun?”

“Definitely. Looks like you are, too.”

He nodded, smiling. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, pulling you closer. “When’re we getting married, baby? The people wanna know.”

“Oh I know. They’ve been asking me, too.” You chuckle. “I’m sorry it’s been relegated so far back. It’s just been busy with the planet reconstruction and the new Jedi Temple and…”

“Nah, that’s okay. I knew what I was getting when I proposed to a princess. You’re a busy lady. I don’t care when we get married so long as it happens. But…I wouldn’t mind soon.”

You smiled softly, nodding. “I think soon sounds good.”

The droids let you all know the new year was approaching and people gathered to count it down.

“I love you, Princess. Thank you. For all of it. For coming into my life. For winning the war. For saving me. For letting me hang out here on this awesome planet even though I am totally overstaying my welcome.”

“Stoppppp.” You giggled, shaking your head. “Thank you for waking me up. Without you, I literally would not be standing here.”

“Alright, well, if we keep thanking each other for every little thing, we’ll be here all night and I don’t know about you, but I have some more pressing plans for the evening.”

“Like what?”

“Like this,” he replied, pulling you closer and pressing his lips to yours, movements languid and loving as the party around you rang in a fresh new year, the war long gone, and the peacetimes just getting started.

Digger Harkness

Words: 0.9k

Holed up in a dingy bar while chaos ran rampant through Metropolis was not the way you thought your New Year’s Eve would go. But being a member of the Justice League…stranger things had happened.

You, alongside a group known as Taskforce X to some, the Suicide Squad to most, had just, more or less saved the world. But due to the disarray, their envoy hadn’t yet been dispatched to pick them up. Hence the bar. And you, as the one trusted person that knew of their existence aside from Rick Flag and Bruce Wayne (because Bruce knows everything), were relegated to babysitting duty while Rick filed the paperwork. Standard stuff. Breakdowns of the battle, heroic acts by the group members, that kind of thing. Things that would reduce their prison sentences, in theory, if doing so many of these impossible missions didn’t kill them first.

You perched on a barstool, chin rested against your fist as you watched the clock tick, listened to the sounds of the sirens in the distance as things calmed down. Crisis averted. Another Tuesday in Metropolis.

Boomerang scooted some rubble aside with his elbow, motioning to the stool beside yours. “Anyone sittin’ here?”

“Nope. Knock yourself out.” You said, chuckling softly, shaking your head.

“Aw, come on now, (L/N)! Why the long face? We saved the world, again.” He said, bumping his elbow against yours playfully. “It’s worth celebratin’, ain’t it?”

“Definitely. Celebrate away.” You replied, managing a tired grin.

He hesitated, eyes scanning you. “You feelin’ alright? Didn’t use too much of that energy of yours kickin’ alien ass?”

Your smile grew and you shook your head. “No. Sometimes, Boomer, I’m just tired.”

He glanced at the clock, as the New Year neared, closer and closer every minute. “You had plans, didn’t you? Tonight?”

Bingo. “Yeah, it wasn’t anything major, just…a night in with some college friends. Watching the ball drop. Sipping cheap wine.”

He hummed, nodding. He glanced around the rundown bar, windows cracked in from the near-apocalypse that had just blown over. In the corner of the room, Deadshot and Killer Croc were tweaking the wiring of a slightly damaged TV. It flickered a few times and then, against all odds, the countdown came on.

“Well, there we go. There’s one down. Let me rummage around back here.” He walked around the side of the bar and dug through the supplies before pulling out a bottle of sweet, cheap wine. One of the brands you liked. He pulled out the least damaged wine glasses he could find and poured you each a glass, sliding one across the bartop to you.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” You said, trying to fight the smile on your face. Trying to keep your wall up. You were a hero. He was a criminal. A diamond thief. Your antithesis. And yet…his charms had been chipping away at the barrier around your heart since you first met. Even moreso since you’d been fighting on the same team.

He shook his head. “You deserve a nice New Year’s. Shouldn’t have to give it up to hang out with lowlifes like us.”

You wanted to retort, but you didn’t, instead sipping your wine as the anchors on the TV talked about the disaster in Metropolis, how this New Year’s Eve had very nearly been the last. “Well thank you anyway. You’re not bad company.”

He huffed at that, looking unconvinced.

“I mean it. I…don’t know what I expected when I signed up for this, but…it wasn’t you guys. I thought you would all kinda hate me. It’s nice to be tolerated, though.”

“And I thought you were gonna be some prissy buzzkill that looked at us like we were…” He shook his head, not finishing the thought. “But you’re not.”

You were quiet for a moment. “Thank you.”

“I already told you, this is nothin’—”

“Not for the wine. For earlier. You took a pretty bad blast for me. Blocked me so I could take the final shot. You saved the world.”

“You saved the world. I just gave ya a boost, love.” He murmured into his wine glass. The word curled around his tongue gently. You’d never heard him use it before. Not directed at you.

“You saved me.” You insisted, meeting his gaze.

His eyes softened. “I did my best.”

You reached over, gently taking his hand, like you were approaching a wild animal. He flinched, but his rough fingers curled around yours, giving your hand a squeeze.

“You have a resolution?” You asked.

“Yeah.”

“What is it.”

“Can’t tell ya or it won’t come true.” He replied, grinning.

“That’s birthday wishes. Not New Year’s Resolutions.”

He looked conflicted for a moment before saying. “Nah, it really won’t come true if I tell ya.”

“Why’s that?” You asked as Harley began to loudly count down from ten in the corner of the room.

“It’s so unrealistic, is all.” He explained with a shrug, eyes searching yours as the seconds melted away until finally, midnight struck and the others yelled out, celebrating the new year.

“Let me be the judge of that.” You murmured, leaning forward and capturing his lips.

He gasped into your mouth, squeezing your hand as he kissed you. His surprise evaporated into something much more solid and real. You could tell he’d been waiting for it just as long as you had. Maybe longer.

When it was over, he rested his forehead against yours. “I still have to go back to Belle Reve.”

“I know.”

“But…you’ll come visit?”

You chuckled, giving a wry grin. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Cisco Ramon

Words: 0.7k

A cute, sparkly New Year’s Eve fit? Check. More alcohol than any human could reasonably consume? Check. A metahuman headache from hell? Also, check. Unfortunately. After sending out a few texts, cancelling your plans, you gathered a stack of DVDs, some fuzzy pajamas, a pile of blankets, some tea, and some painkillers.

You let out a sigh, taking in your surroundings. Sure, you were cozy, but you really had been looking forward to spending time with your Star Labs coworkers. They’d welcomed you to Team Flash without so much as a hesitation, especially once they found out about your powers. They were some of the only people that understood you. Over the last few years, they had become everything to you.

Caitlyn sent you a text telling you to feel better, as did Barry. Nothing from Cisco. You expected him to send a Tiktok or something to cheer you up, but you didn’t beat yourself up over it. You were sure they were all out having fun at a karaoke club or something.

Until there was a knock on the door.

Eyebrows furrowing, you stood up and walked to answer it, pulling it open. Cisco was standing there, holding a pizza box, a scarf wrapped around his neck, snowflakes caught in his long black hair.

“Pizza Delivery for a (Y/N) (L/N)?” He asked, looking you up and down. “Is that you?”

“Thanks, Cisco.”

“Don’t mention it.” He grinned, stepping through your front door and kicking the snow off his boots before taking them off in the doorway and setting them down on your shoe shelf, as he had so many times.

“Whatcha doing? Don’t you have plans?”

“I did. And then one of my friends got a wicked headache from their awesome superpowers, so…plans changed. What are we watching?”

“Uhh, Howl’s Moving Castle right now. I was gonna switch to the countdown after, though.”

“Ooh, Howl’s! Classic. I got your usual. With that cream cheese dip you like. And, I stopped at the pharmacy on the corner and got you migraine meds.”

You smiled at that, heart swelling as he said it. “Cisco…”

“What?” He asked, taking off his coat and tossing you the bottle of pills. You caught them, reading the label on the bottle.

“You really didn’t have to do this.”

“Uhhhhh, yeah I did.” He shrugged, plopping himself down on the couch, setting the pizza on the coffee table, gently moving your mug aside. “Come on. Settle in. This castle isn’t gonna move itself.”

“Actually, it kinda does. That’s the whole point.” You chuckled, settling into the spot next to him, leg brushing his.

The two of you watched the end of the movie and your migraine meds started to kick in. You felt a lot better. Still, as you flipped the channel to the New Year’s Eve countdown, where some singer was on stage. You got up and carried the leftover pizza to the fridge, fetching a bottle of the beer Cisco liked, which you always kept stocked…just in case.

When you returned, he grinned, looking at the bottle. “See, you take care of everyone else. It’s about time someone took care of you.”

“Yeah, yeah, just drink it.” You chuckled, settling back in, sitting even closer to him this time, his arm perched on the back of the couch. One thing led to another, and somehow, your head wound up on his shoulder and his arm wound up around yours.

You sat in comfortable silence as the show played on, making comments and jokes every here and there. You laughed a lot. You always seemed to when he was around. Then, finally, they started counting down.

“Hey, uh…” Cisco started. “This is totally not the reason I came here, but…um…would it be alright with you if I…”

You smiled, lifting your head from his shoulder and turning to look at him, impossibly close. His warm brown eyes searched your features for any sign of hesitation. Of rejection. Instead, you reached up to touch his face, pulling him in for a kiss before the ball even reached the bottom.

He smiled against you, leaning into the kiss. You could tell he’d been wanting this. Waiting for it.

And when it was over, a few minutes after midnight, if you were honest, he rested his forehead against yours for a moment before pulling you back against his chest. “I’m glad I came. Best New Year’s Ever.”

“I’m glad you did, too. And if you want…I, uh…I’d like to keep kissing you. Into the new year.”

He grinned. “Fuck yeah.”

Penelope Featheringon

Words: 1.0k

The Queen was no stranger to a good party. She loved the drama, the intrigue, the young love blossoming all around her. Which was why it was no surprise to you when invitations to a grand New Year’s Eve Ball arrived in the post. All of London was buzzing with speculation of who would wear what, who would dance with whom, and most of all, if the infamous Lady Whistledown would be in attendance, hashing out all of the details in a special holiday edition of her newsletter.

You, for one, couldn’t wait to find out.

As the evening unfolded, you mingled a bit. Reconnected with old friends you hadn’t seen in months, since the majority of the Ton had retreated to their country estates for the colder months. You watched as the Bridgerton brothers controlled the room. Every eligible lady and then some had their eye on them, much, it would seem, to Benedict’s dismay.

Meanwhile, you turned your attention to Penelope, who stood at the corner of the room. Listening. Watching. She was good at that, it seemed.

“Hey, Pen. You look lovely this evening.”

Her cheeks flushed pink at the sudden attention. So used to being invisible, it was hard, being seen. “Thank you. You look g-great as well, (Y/N).”

You smiled. “Thanks.”

The silence grew in the space between you. Like weeds in the pavement.

“I can’t believe it’s the end of another one. I feel it’s gone so fast. These last months, especially.” You said.

She nodded. “Yes, since October, it’s been quite the blur. Any prospects?”

You laughed. “None. Yourself?”

“Oh, no. It does surprise me, though. That you don’t have any.”

“Haven’t been social enough, I suppose. Mother keeps trying to drag me to parties, but I’m completely content at home with a good book and a glass of wine.”

“The solitude is nice. Gives one time to think.” Penelope said quietly, looking around the room. “Although, I don’t mind a party.”

You raised an eyebrow at that. “Really?”

“Not in the slightest. I think they’re quite fun. I like people watching. Listening to the drama. Mr. Silver over there, for example, just spilled champagne all over his wife’s new silk gown. Mr. and Mrs. Rose married in a hurry, but seem to be on rocky ground, despite seemingly being a love match.”

“Lust match, is more like it.”

Penelope laughed at that, nodding in agreement, making a mental note to use that for later.

“I guess I’ve never seen it like that. I’d been so focused on my own loneliness at these things that I never realized there was so much going on.”

“Well, if you ever do find yourself alone and unhappy, we can be alone together, if you’d like.” She offered, eyes sparkling with sincerity. And perhaps something more, though you couldn’t be sure.

You smiled, nodding. “I’d like that.”

As midnight approached, you wandered out onto the terrace, snow falling from the starlit sky. It was cold out, but you didn’t mind. It had been getting rather warm inside, what with the roaring fireplaces and the room full of people. It was quiet. Not to mention gorgeous.

You took a long moment to think. Penelope Featherington. Penelope. Someone you’d been friends with for so long. Someone who, you’d thought until tonight, had never carried anything but friendship in her heart for you…now, you weren’t so sure. For the first time, you’d seen something more in those wide, gorgeous eyes of hers.

Your next breath floated off into the sky, a puff of steam in the cold winter air.

“You’ll catch your death out here.” A voice said, the door to the terrace opening. It was Penelope, dressed in her cloak, clearly getting ready to make her escape.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. It is nearing the stroke of twelve and I wish to get home and rest.” She said. “Why are you out here?”

“I was getting warm in there.” You confess, though now, you’re trembling.

“Aren’t you hoping someone might kiss you when the clock strikes twelve?” She asked softly. “There are plenty of options roaming the floor, on the search for their victims.”

“That would be the other reason I am out here, then. I have no desire to have my lips…entangled with some of those bachelors. I have never had a New Year’s Eve kiss, none of them will be my first.”

“Neither have I.” She confessed, footsteps crunching softly in the snow. “A New Year’s Eve kiss, or…any other.”

“I could kiss you.” You blurted suddenly. “If you like. If not…forget I ever—”

“You would?” She asked, almost too quickly. Silence hung between the two of you, as thick and sparkling as the snow.

You stepped closer, footsteps crunching impossibly loudly as the murmurs of the party drifted up into the cold winter air. Vaguely, you could hear them counting. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was you and her. “I would. If you want.”

“I would like that very much.” She whispered as you finally stood in front of her.

Slowly, gently, you leaned forward, a tender hand touching her face. Her breath hitched, eyes flicking from one of yours to the other before finally landing on your lips, just as you closed the distance between the two of you. It was sweet. It was slow. It was everything you expected it to be and more. Her floral scent drifted through your nostrils, that intoxicating scent that reminded you of spring, even in the dead of winter.

When you pulled apart, you brushed the vibrant red hairs from her forehead before pressing another kiss there, as well. “Happy New Year, Penelope. Thank you, for letting me get a head start on my resolution.”

She smiled softly, gazing at you. “To kiss as many eligible women of the Ton as you can?”

“No, to kiss you.”

And as soon as those words left your lips, you soon found hers on them again…

[theghoulboysblog]

hi! i love you very much! :)

have you taken a drink of water lately? have you eaten yet? have you slept enough? :) make sure you’re doing the things that keep you healthy, happy, and comfy, whatever those things may be! 💛

if scrolling through all the different watcher related opinions is making you upset (no matter where you stand on the decision) please PLEASE prioritize your mental health!

don’t hesitate to unfollow certain tags, block people, or even delete the app if it makes you happy! :)

or if scrolling makes you happy, do that too! just please take care of yourselves!!! much love! 💛

[rafedarling]

Drew losing his wedding ring 🤫 but he left it behind at home and y/n finds it inside his laundry basket she goes shit crazy looking for it and since y/n know she plays dumb wanting to teach him a lesson and she’s like baby I’m getting our rings cleaned l tomorrow can you leave your ring on the counter and he’s just rambling and coming up with excuses Intill he finds his ring will Drew continue to lie or confess

cute!!!

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing: drew starkey x fem!reader

summary: drew, your husband who accidentally leaves his wedding ring in his laundry basket, prompting you, his wife to find it while doing laundry. instead of confronting him immediately, you decides to teach him a lesson by pretending not to notice while teasing him about getting plan taking your rings to cleaned.

warning(s): english is not my native language. fluff, humor, and playful teasing, slight secondhand embarrassment, wholesome, domestic vibes.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe @emberaurora

It had been a long but pleasant evening, and as you glanced at the overflowing laundry basket in the corner of your bedroom, you figured it was time to tackle it. Drew was lounging on the couch, flipping through TV channels, blissfully unaware of the mischief you were about to stir up.

Laundry had become a bit of a ritual for you both; a chore that came with its own rhythm and quirks. Drew was the “dump-it-all-in-and-hope-for-the-best” type, while you meticulously checked pockets and separated clothes by color. And it was during one of these pocket inspections that you felt something hard and metallic inside the pocket of his jeans.

You pulled it out and froze.

His wedding ring.

Your brows knitted together as you stared at the small band in your palm. Drew was practically married to his ring he wore it everywhere, even in places he didn’t need to, like the gym or while swimming. It had been a running joke between you that he might as well glue it to his finger. So, finding it stuffed in his laundry was unusual, to say the least.

You chewed on your lip, debating whether to call him out immediately or let him stew a little. Then, with a devilish grin across your face. You slipped the ring into the pocket of your pajama pants, decided not to mention it, and returned to the living room. You’d let him sweat it out.

When you entered, Drew was crouched by the couch, pulling cushions off and muttering to himself.

“Babe, what are you looking for?” you asked, keeping your tone as neutral as possible.

Drew froze mid-search, then quickly straightened up.

“Oh, uh… nothing. Just… the remote.” He gestured vaguely to the couch, his voice a little too high-pitched to be believable.

You raised an eyebrow.

“The remote? The one sitting on the coffee table?”

You pointed at the remote, lying in plain sight directly in front of him.

“Oh.” He let out a nervous laugh, grabbing it. “Right. That one.”

You fought to keep a straight face as you handed it to him.

“Here. Anything else you’re looking for?”

“Nope! All good.”

He said it too quickly, his voice strained, as if he was trying to convince himself.

“Mm-hmm,” you murmured, heading back to the bedroom.

Once you were out of sight, you retrieved the ring from your pocket and tucked it into your jewelry box for safekeeping. If Drew was going to lie, you’d at least make it entertaining.

The next morning, you were up a bit late and padded into the kitchen to find Drew already there, nursing his coffee. His hair was adorably messy, sticking up in all directions, and he was wearing your favorite flannel pajama pants the ones you swore made him look cozier than ever. He grinned when he saw you.

“Morning, babe. Coffee?” he offered, gesturing to the pot.

“Yes, please.”

You slid onto the stool at the counter, resting your chin in your hand as you watched him pour. That’s when your eyes zeroed in on his left hand still missing the ring. You couldn’t resist any longer.

“Drew,” you began casually as he placed the cup in front of you, “uh…where’s your ring?”

He froze, fingers tightening slightly on his mug.

“Oh, uh… my ring”

He cleared his throat and quickly recovered, spreading his hands in front of him as if to inspect them.

“Right. My ring. I, uh, must’ve taken it off when I was… washing my hands last night. You know how slippery soap gets.”

You nodded slowly, playing along.

“Slippery soap. Got it.”

He relaxed slightly, clearly thinking he was off the hook, and took a long sip of his coffee. But you weren’t done yet.

“You know,” you said, feigning nonchalance,

“I was thinking we should take our rings in for a cleaning. They’ve been looking a little dull lately. How about I drop them off at the jeweler tomorrow?”

Drew nearly choked on his coffee. “Uh… cleaning?” he repeated, his voice cracking slightly.

“Yeah,” you said sweetly. “You can just leave your ring on the counter before work, and I’ll take care of it.”

For a split second, you thought he might actually combust.

“Oh, uh, sure! Totally,” he said, his voice pitched high with panic.

“I mean, it’s probably… in the bathroom. Or… maybe on the nightstand? Or, uh—” He stopped himself, clearly spiraling.

You tilted your head, giving him your most innocent look.

“Are you sure you know where it is? You seem a little… distracted.”

“I know exactly where it is,” he insisted, though the way his eyes darted toward the ceiling betrayed him.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh, I’m not worried.”

You sipped your coffee, pretending to be absorbed in your phone.

“I mean, it’s not like it’s that important, right? It’s just a ring.”

Drew’s head snapped up, his expression stricken.

“It is important!” he blurted out, a little louder than necessary. “I didn’t lose it, okay? I—uh…I just… misplaced it. Temporarily.”

“Of course,” you said, nodding sympathetically.

“That makes total sense.”

He let out a shaky breath, clearly not realizing you were toying with him. Over the next few hours, Drew became increasingly frantic, sneaking off to various rooms to search for the ring. You caught him rifling through the bathroom drawers, peering under the bed, and even checking the fridge at one point.

By evening, he was sitting on the couch, head in his hands. His usual confident demeanor had crumbled, and guilt was written all over his face. You decided it was time to put him out of his misery.

“Drew,” you said softly, sitting beside him, “is there something you want to tell me?”

He looked up at you, his blue eyes filled with regret.

“Okay, fine,” he admitted, throwing his hands in the air.

“I lost my ring. I don’t know how, I don’t know where, and I’ve been freaking out about it all day. I didn’t want to tell you because I thought you’d be mad, and”

You reached into your pajama pocket and pulled out the ring, holding it between your fingers.

“Looking for this?” you asked, unable to hide your grin.

Drew stared at the ring, his jaw dropping.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and relief.

“I found it in your laundry last night,” you explained, laughing.

“I wanted to see how long it would take for you to confess.”

He groaned, leaning back against the couch.

“You’re evil, you know that?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, sliding the ring back onto his finger. “But you deserved it for lying to me.”

Drew pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your hair.

“I’m never taking this off again,” he promised, kissing your temple.

“Oh you better not,” you teased. “Or next time, I might just pawn it.”

He laughed, shaking his head.

“Remind me never to underestimate you.”

“Smart man,” you said, leaning against him with a satisfied smile.

[mostly-imagines]

Sugar on the Rim vol. I

bruce wayne x afab!reader

aka the billionaires new friend

warnings: implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), mentions of sex, smut in next part

You twist the stem of the wine glass around between your fingers slowly. Your chin rests atop your knees as you stare vacantly at the tiny puddle left of the drink. You could go refill it, but then you’d have to go back out to the main room and man…you really do not want to do that. So you’ll sit here, swiping your tongue across the bumps of the roof of your mouth as if it's a fascinating new discovery.

The creak of hinges has you shooting upright, your back thumping against the stair step behind you. You’re not immediately sure how to act as though it’s normal that you’re sitting in the stairwell outside the fundraiser rather than in it, fraternizing with old and new money alike. You freeze, trying to relax your posture so it doesn’t look like you’re alarmed at the sight of another person, but not so relaxed that you look as bored as you are.

Your neutrality stutters when you glance up to find the host of the fundraiser. The billionaire host of the fundraiser. Bruce Wayne, the billionaire host of the fundraiser. Your posture straightens right back up and your mouth snaps shut as you make eye contact.

Should you stand up? 

No, he’s rich, not royalty. 

You are in his house though—

He looks you over contemplatively, “I don’t know you,” It’s not accusatory, rather he says it like it’s something interesting.

You perk up at that, immediately formulating reasons to justify your presence. “Oh, uh, no—” the words nearly spill out of your mouth all at once. You clear your throat, “I’m just a plus one for my boss—”

“Who’s your boss?” he asks, relaxed. 

“Arthur Mullins.”

He looks to the side, squinting, “Mullins…he’s the executive at Williamson Industries, yes?”

You nod and he returns the gesture, slower, like he’s processing through something. “I’m Bruce,” he says warmly after a moment, holding his hand out to you.

You nod before you can even think to get any words to come out, “I—yeah, I know,” you accept his hand, shaking it as you tell him your name.

There’s a slight glint in his eye when he hears your name, and he repeats it quietly to himself. “A pretty name.”

“Oh, it’s just…” Just your name. But rather than fill him in on that fascinating tidbit, you let the sentence die off.

He smiles kindly anyway, “What are you doing in here? Party’s out there, or so they tell me.”

“I…I’m hiding in here,” you admit sheepishly.

He leans in towards you slightly, lowering his voice. “I’ll let you in on a secret—so am I,” he smiles at you like it’s easy.

Your grin matches his, “It’s your party,”

“That’s why I need to hide.” He tilts his head, “Doesn’t give you much of an excuse though, does it?”

“I don’t know anybody here.”

He puckers his bottom lip contemplatively, “Your boss.”

You shake your head, “I’m just his assistant. I’m pretty sure he just brought me as a precaution in case he needed a designated driver.”

He laughs at that, “Based on the way I’ve seen Mullins’ attempts to operate, his assistant would have to be a hell of a lot more important than just a designated driver.”

Well, he’s certainly right about that. Your boss doesn’t exactly “have it together” per se. He’s an unorganized man with little to justify his importance in Gotham, so he tends to insist on taking on more responsibility than he has any business having. Not to mention, he’s a bit of a try-hard and you’re constantly left to sweep up the pieces of his reputation that he shattered himself. Not to say he’s necessarily unprofessional, he just will do anything and everything to prove he belongs in any given space. It’s honestly a bit exhausting to watch. It’s more exhausting to try and convince him that the exchange went well afterwards.

You nod slowly, eyes on his shoes. “Mr. Mullins has…a unique approach to business. It does usually leave me fairly busy, I’ll give you that.” You take a quick deep breath, plastering on a fake smile. “But that means I occasionally get to go to fancy parties where I don’t know anyone, so..”

“Well then it sounds like you’ve got it all worked out,” he ribs, “Or don’t you agree?”

You smile coyly, “I would never be so bold.”

“I don’t mind boldness. For example, the reason I came in here is because he spotted me.”

You laugh at that, “Mr. Wayne—”

“Bruce.”

“Mr. Wayne,” you suppress your smile as you pause, choosing your words carefully. “I think he’s just networking.” He doesn’t have the money to give.

He nods surely, “He’s definitely just networking.” He really doesn’t have the money to give. You allow just the faintest wisp of a smile to adorn your face as you look down again.

You check the time and realize that you’ve been hiding away for too long and that if he hasn’t already, your boss will notice soon. You sigh quietly to yourself, “I should..”

He turns his head to the closed door where the chatter can be heard from beyond, sighing in defeat as he shakes his head looking back at you. “So should I.”

You feel a bit insecure as you stand, the gown you’re wearing is pretty but it is very much affordable and you’re sure someone as wealthy as Bruce Wayne would know the difference.

If he does notice he makes no deal of it, motioning you forward gallantly to walk ahead of him.

He follows after you, hands behind his back. “Would it be rude of me to ask you to distract him while I run for the bar?”

It’s busy, even for a Sunday afternoon, and you have to sidestep past someone nearly every step you take. You stick next to the windows of the line of boutiques down the road, trying to balance window shopping and not bumping into other pedestrians.

You're in a nicer district of Gotham, truthfully an area you don't quite belong in. So far you’ve only managed to find a couple shops that weren’t several ranges above your budget. 

A call of your name has you blinking rapidly and turning around as if you’re lost. It doesn’t take long for you to pick the six foot two billionaire out of the crowd and it’s only half a second longer before you realize he’s walking towards you. A few people collide shoulders with you as they move past thoughtlessly, no regard for the personal space of the idiot that stopped in the flow of traffic.

You let him approach a couple feet closer before you ask him, “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Wayne?” The presence of his figure in front of you allows for a break from being bumped into, as he seemingly makes for a far more easily seen and intentionally avoided target.

He sways a bit, “Bruce. I’m not sure yet,” he looks down to the couple of bags you’re holding, extending his hand out. “May I?”

It takes you just a moment to move past your surprise at the request, allowing him to hold them for you. “Are you in a rush?”

You shake your head quicker than you meant to, “No, I—not at all,” he gestures his head forward, allowing you to walk before him.

You traipse ahead in silence for a moment before deciding against biting your tongue, “What exactly is it you’re not sure about?”

He raises his voice a bit so you can hear him over the crowd, “Whether or not you’ve got plans on the 19th.”

You look back at him, “What’s on the 19th?”

He stops with you as you admire a set of jewelry inside a window display, “We’re hosting a gala for something or something else, hopefully less boring than the fundraiser.”

You blink, “You’re inviting me?” He nods. “Why?”

“I could use someone who wants to be there even less than I do.”

He said it so casually it takes you a second to even register his meaning. You blink, face contorting defensively, “That’s not—” you can barely make out the smile on his face as he continues on walking.

You shake your composure back together and trail after him, rushing to catch up. “I don’t think Mr. Mullins would be very happy to hear that I’m attending a business gala without him.”

He shakes his head as he scans over the crowd, “He can’t fire you for that.”

“He’ll try.” He would. A petty little man, he is. 

He scans across the rows of clothes leisurely. “Well, then he can speak to me about it. Besides, it wouldn’t be for business.” And then he just lets that sentence linger.

It takes you a moment to recover from those words and begin to start processing the world around you again. After a few more feet down the sidewalk he pulls you gently to the side by your lower arm, out of the rush of traffic, and looks at you dead on, “What do you think?”

You try not to waver under the weight of the eye contact, “I don’t…uh, I don’t really have…” you look down, hoping to get the message across without actually having to say the words.

He glances into the store window next to you and raises his eyebrows, “Well then I’d say we’re in the right place.”

You can’t manage to tell him that this store is definitely far too expensive for you, walking through the door as he opens it for you, albeit apprehensively.

Well. Up close window shopping is more fun anyways. 

The spotless white of the floors and walls has you intimidated, and just as much so by less by the no doubt designer clothes lining the walls. The saleswomen all look pretty highbrow themselves, hair up in tight buns and uniforms chic.

You only break from gawking at the store to look behind you at Bruce. You note the way his eyes roam around blindly, looking for something and clearly having no means to narrow down where it might be. You take one more glance around, immediately finding the women's section with no such difficulty. 

“This way.” You say, nodding your head over to the left. He recovers nicely and lets you lead the way towards the section of dresses. You peer back at him, “You don’t seem like someone that does much of his own shopping.”

Thankfully, he laughs at that. “Well, special occasions.”

You keep your gaze ahead this time, asking as casually as you can, “Is this a special occasion?”

He hums in consideration, “I’d say so.”

You stop upon approaching the dress section, taking in the immediately stunning display of options. 

“What are you doing up here anyways?” you ask, hand brushing across a particularly plush dress.

“Ah, I was headed to a meeting.”

“Oh,” you frown, looking at him. “Don’t you need to go?”

He shakes his head with a puckered lower lip, “No.”

A few seemingly heiresses roam down the aisle mindlessly, not caring much that you’re in their path. 

Bruce sees them before you do, knowing well that they were not going to excuse themselves. “Sweetheart,” he nudges you gently to the side, closer to him as the group passes. His hand remained open-palmed and flat as he guided you to the side, seemingly very careful not to touch you with uninvited boldness. Though you’re quite shaken by the chivalry of the gesture, a brazen touch wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world.

As your arm brushes against a rack of clothing your gaze follows, met with something rather appealing.

Bruce is quick to notice you admiring the sleek black dress that looks like something you’d see a model wearing on a runway. “You like that one?”

“It’s nice, yeah,” you murmur, not really thinking. You flip the price tag over and your face drops. “It’s $800.”

He nods thoughtfully, “We can find a nicer one,” he says, though it’s clear he knows exactly what your problem with the price tag was.

“I can’t—” you restart, “I would never have a reason to wear something this nice again.”

He shakes his head coolly, “That’s alright.”

Your shoulders drop and your head tilts seriously, “It’s not, though.”

“You like it?” He looks you in the eyes, his own searching for a truthful answer.

“I mean, of course, but it—”

He nods affirmatively, “Then we’ll get it. Problem solved.” He turns his back to the rack, casually observing the rest of the store goers. “Pick your size.”

Apparently not one to argue, you thumb through the row until you find one that should fit. 

You sigh, realizing that you’re running out of time to mention that you don’t have $800 to spend on a dress. “I can’t—”

“You don’t need to,” he says simply as he takes the dress off the rack and drapes it across his arm, making his way towards the salescounter.

You try to stop your mouth from hanging open as you follow, “It really is okay, I don’t need—”

His grin cuts you off, just in time for you to hear him mutter, “Sweet girl..” to himself. You stop right in your tracks, feeling very thankful that he’s not looking at you right now because you’re certain the look on your face would give you away.

He still doesn’t face you as he calls out, “Come on,” as he continues on.

Obviously you’re not stupid. You know what type of intentions a billionaire playboy must have with a younger girl that he doesn’t even really know. However, if said billionaire is offering to buy you a pretty dress…no, you’re not sleeping with him because he bought you a dress—of course not—and you’ve made absolutely no promises to do so, so what’s the harm in letting him? Really?

And yeah, maybe it’s a plus that he’s not bad looking, but how is that your fault?

You stand a bit awkwardly next to him as he puts his card in the machine, not even glancing at the outrageous number, and declines the offer for the receipt.

As you exit the store together and stand at the doors as he hands your original two bags back to you along with the new shiny black one that on its own looks like something people would pay for.

“You will be there?” he asks, eyes more hopeful than you were prepared for. 

You nod, gesturing the bag up, “Well you just bought me the dress.”

He shrugs that off, “I would’ve bought you the dress anyways.”

You linger in the midst of the ado wearing a dress that you feel far too overshadowed by, fidgeting with the half empty wine glass in your hand. Unfortunately, this time around you were invited by the host of the event and it would be extra rude to run away and hide. That doesn’t stop you from considering it, though.

A hand sliding across your lower back has you momentarily startled, and for reasons you couldn’t quite verbalize, you’d naturally assumed it was Bruce. The disappointment rings strong when you turn around to be met with the sight of an even older man, who looks considerably wine drunk. 

“Hello there, Miss.,” The words themselves are polite but the salacious smile on his face and the way his eyes have no trouble roaming your body gives you a solid idea of what this conversation is going to entail.

“Hello,” you fake a polite, tight smile and shift your attention to the rest of the room. 

This does nothing to deter him, as he takes a sizable step back into your line of sight. “Having a nice time?” 

The man is clearly from money, if his attire didn’t give it away his attitude sure did. There’s an heir of entitlement around him, like he’s inherently deservant of your attention—a quality you were notably surprised to not have found in Bruce. 

You give him your faux-smile again, this time tighter but half a second longer for the sake of politeness. A rookie mistake.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, gesturing to the bar.

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say, gesturing your wine glass up.

A momentary flash of irritation crosses his face, but to his credit, he does a better job recovering from it than you would have expected. Though, that’s not really saying much. “Well, pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be all alone here,”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Both of your heads snap to the side, finding a much more welcome surprise than you’d previously received. 

Your counterpart's posture straightens immediately, “Mr. Wayne,” he fawns, “What a lovely event you’ve thrown. I’m sure the Bernsteins will be appreciative.”

Bruce hums, eyes narrowed slightly. “You are…”

The man startles and rushes to finish off his sentence, “Alexander Watson, senior executive to the accounting department for the research wing of the company.”

He nods slowly, no recognition actually present in his eyes. “Ah. The research wing of the company that just blew fifteen million dollars on prototype self-operating cell phones.”

You’re trying hard to fight the smile creeping up on your face.

“What exactly is a self-operating cell phone?”

Watson’s face drops, hurrying to justify his approval of the proposal’s funding. As he rambles, Bruce’s gaze lowers to where Watson has once again placed his hand on your hip, though he’s not close enough to you for it to rest fully or naturally. You don’t know him well but you can say confidently that he doesn’t look pleased. 

He looks back up to Watson, attitude challenging. “Surely you’re not poking around where you’re unwelcome?”

Watson stutters at that, blinking and shaking his head quickly. “No, no, of course not! I was just hoping to provide the young lady with some company. That’s all.”

“And so you have.”

“I—,” about two steps behind in this conversation, Watson finally decides to retreat, “Yes, good evening, Mr. Wayne.” He bows his head and shuffles away back into the crowd.

“Mr. Wayne,” you smile knowingly, turning to him. “How are you?”

The hardness of his gaze fades quickly as he takes in your appearance, quite liking how you wear the dress you’d picked out.

“Things are looking up,” he smiles, “You look lovely.”

 “Thank you,” you glance over to where Watson has made his way to the bar, likely about to down an entire glass. “Mr., uh, Mr. Watson makes quite the impression.”

His smile turns a bit sullen, “You know last year he tried to convince the board that battery-powered battery chargers were going to be the next big thing?”

You blink, tilting your head, “Thought you didn’t know who he was.”

His eyes are fixed on the wall as he tugs the corner of his lip down, knowing he’s been caught but not really caring. “I’m sorry to have been away for so long, it seems everyone needs my attention at these things.”

“At the gala that you threw? I’d imagine so.”

He rolls past that smoothly, “You’re having a good time?”

“I am,” you say with a confirming head bob.

He regards the room with a numb expression, “You know, I think I’m getting bored with all of this.”

You smile at him, brow furrowed, “It’s only been an hour.”

He looks at you, eyes wide. “It’s only been an hour?” He’s exaggerating his surprise to make you smile, and it works.

“I think we should go,” he says lower.

You stare at him, bemused. “You still have a whole room full of guests.” 

He shrugs, “They’ll filter out on their own eventually.” 

He clocks your hesitation easily, accurately noting it to be more out of politeness than actually wanting to stay at the party. “What, you’re not ready to leave?”

You look around at all the mostly old, posh guests, disinterested small talk evident all across the room. You take a breath, “Alright, yeah. Let’s go.”

He smiles and leads you out a side door and through a corridor that’s significantly longer than you’d expected. 

“Do you always ditch your parties this early?” you ask, following closely.

He makes a sharp right at the next doorway, “If I can manage it.”

You look around at the high wooden ceilings and grand furniture. “Aren’t some of them friends of yours?”

He shakes his head, “My friends aren’t here.”

You frown at that, “Then why do you throw them at all?”

“Why did you show up last weekend?”

You nod slowly, understanding. “It’s your job.”

He returns the nod, adding, “Only difference is, there’s not a chance in hell you get paid enough for the work you do for Mullins.”

For the sake of maintaining your wishful facade of professionalism, you’re going to not acknowledge that incredibly accurate statement. Instead you smile politely and continue on walking. He seems to get the implication, returning it with an even brighter adornment.

“Well, money’s money,” you say wryly.

His smile fades a bit, “You shouldn’t have to worry about things like that.” 

You shrug, “A day in the life,”

He looks sullen upon hearing that, with more sympathy than you’d have expected from someone of his stature. He’s done nothing if not surprise you, though.

“Here,” he says, taking hold of the handle of a glass door. It opens to a garden, lit up beautifully by the moon and outdoor light. A fountain sits in the middle, water rhythmically gushing out of the top and trickling down the sides. The bite of the Gotham night air burns at your cheeks a bit and you find yourself thankful the dress you’d chosen is so long.

Bruce leads the way to an expensive marble bench positioned nicely in front of it, allowing you to sit first before following suit. Your hands find a place in your lap, clasped together awkwardly in an attempt to find warmth through contact.

It takes Bruce less than ten seconds to stand, remove his suit jacket, and drape it over your shoulders before sitting back down. The material is thicker and warmer than you would’ve expected, surely reminiscent of the perks of being owned by a billionaire.

He doesn’t look at you to acknowledge the grateful expression on your face, simply carrying on like it didn’t happen. “Was hoping it was warmer,” he murmurs.

Your focus momentarily goes to the icy cold stone of the bench under your thighs, initially finding it uncomfortable before deciding the coolness actually felt quite soothing. You remove your gaze from the gray stone and turn your head to find Bruce already focused on you.

You start to say something, though you’re not sure what it would’ve been, when he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down.

Well, he certainly knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?

His eyes stay on your lower lip as he murmurs, “You’re a pretty girl, you know that?” 

God, he’s a professional.

You look up at him and refrain from saying anything, waiting to see if he follows it up with something that will make you regret agreeing to coming out here with him.

He doesn’t.

You shift, moving your hands off your lap to rest on the stone under you. “You can’t just do this—”

He smiles and lowers his chin to look you in the eyes, “Then what can I do for you?”

“You—” you blink rapidly, “Stop it.”

His coy beam persists, “Stop what?”

You raise your gaze up to him ever so slightly, a pouty expression across your face that you’re trying to sell as serious. “You’re trying to make me nervous.”

“Do I make you nervous?” He tilts his head down further, a ghost of a smile echoing on his lips, “I don’t mean to, sweet girl.”

Your eyes drop to the ground, biting your tongue. “Yeah.”

His simper grows, “I’m serious. I’d hate to scare away a new friend.”

You laugh at that and he perks up a bit at the sound, “What? We’re not friends?”

You cock your head to the side, “You’re the one who said none of your friends are here.”

He hums, “Maybe I spoke too soon.”

“You think so?” You should probably stop flirting so much. 

“Yeah,” he leans in a bit closer, “I do.”

“Why’s that?”

“Maybe I want to be your friend,” his hand finds a place atop yours. 

Your eyes flicker across his face as he closes in, “What if I don’t want to be yours?”

His eyes are on your lips, “I’m sure we can work something out.”

You take a slow deep breath, “Your intentions are blurry.”

He smiles lightly, amused. “We’ll have to clear that up then, won’t we?” His lips are inches away and his voice is soft as he says, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

You look up at him eyes wide, barely processing his words as you nod. He gently grasps your jaw in his hand, tilting your head up. His other hand finds the back of your head, holding you in place as he kisses you with intention. Your hands hover in the air for a second before holding onto his forearms. 

He breaks the kiss only to give you another sweet one right after. Your mouths remain close when it’s over, eyes still shut, trying to catch your breath. You stay like that for a moment until he kisses you once more on your cheekbone before pulling away. His hands drop to rest on your knees, the weight of them gentle.

He hums lowly, “Sweet thing..”

Being under the heaviness of his gaze leaves you feeling vulnerable. It’s starting to get you concerned with the potential levity and implications of kissing him. The expectations.

“You…” you stare down at where his hands meet your skin, not quite sure that you actually meant to start that sentence. 

“What?” he frowns, brow pinched. Your chin lowers further as your mouth forms a tight line. He shakes his head, “No, it’s alright. What is it?” he asks gently.

It takes a surge of willpower for you to get the sentence out, “You just want to sleep with me..”

He frowns harder at that, pulling back a bit. “No. I’m…” he sighs, “I’m not trying to lure you in just to toss you out right after.”

That makes you look up again. His voice has a sincerity to it that you weren’t prepared for. 

He continues, “I would like to, yes. Yeah. You’re beautiful, of course I would, but..” he looks down at his hands before looking back up at you, “No, that’s not the most important thing to me.”

You break eye contact again, thinking over his words. If that’s not the most important thing to him, what is? You can’t think of what else he could possibly want from you, a billionaire who could have anything he wants..the only thing you could have to offer in his eyes is sex. 

Right?

He exhales, “If you want to leave, I’ll call you a car. No hard feelings.” He nudges your chin up gently so you’ll look at him, but he gives you the freedom to fight against it if you wanted to.

You let him move you.

“I don’t want to leave,” you tell him, looking into his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Whatever you want,” he says it like it’s automatic. You physically can’t help but roll your eyes at the corniness of it. He doubles down, though, “Seriously. Anything.”

You smile in disbelief, shaking your head.

“Alright,” he returns your smile, straightening, “Here’s what we’re going to do. Do you need a ride home?”

You blink at him, “I’m going home?”

“You are,” he nods softly, “Do you need a ride?”

“No.”

He nods again, more like he’s working through something in his head. “Okay. You’re going to go home and think through what you want. If you decide you want to, come back here next Saturday.” he stands up, extending his hand out to you, “Then you can let me know what else you want and we can get to work on that too.”

You start to shake your head, “I can—” 

He drops his chin seriously, “Think on it.”

You relent easily, taking his hand and coming to a stand.

“Alright?” Again, his question is genuine. He does really want to know if you’re on board with this plan. 

Already going against his request, you agree without a thought, “Okay.”

He starts to lead you back over to the garden door with a head nod and a kind smile.

It ultimately was not a decision you had to think very hard on.

You’d considered every scenario of how this could play out and none of them ended with regret as far as you could guess.

You’ll still admit though, there was one scenario you had missed, apparently, which is why you were immeasurably confused when you showed up and he invited you to play chess.

He’s not wearing a fancy three piece suit this time, but his clothes are still very nice. With the sunlight peeking through the windows, you’re able to see the manor more clearly than you had been the other night. It really is a beautiful home, clearly very old and charmed, but there’s a lot of little details of character and history scattered around. There’s portraits and photographs of his parents from when he was young and furniture decorated with trinkets all throughout, kept absolutely spotless and dust free. Everything is neat and tidy but there’s still traces of the house being lived in with the patched throw pillows and worn carpets. Still, it’s very, very placid.

You’ve met new money plenty of times over the course of dealing with countless businessmen for Mr. Mullins but old money is something entirely different. You don’t really have a frame of reference here. New money is almost always brash and demanding, they like things done quickly and correctly the first time around. They’re usually not very interested in hearing what you have to say (even if it would save them a lot of trouble) and prefer it when the assistants women keep their mouths shut. Bruce has proven to be very different from these standards already and you’re not sure where to begin with placing new ones.

You’re about halfway through a second game, and while you’re not awful at chess, you get the impression that he’s easing up on you considerably.

You sit on the floor in front of a short coffee table, the game having no clear lead so far.

“I think this is stressing me,” you mumble, no actual weight behind your words.

“It’s just chess,” he says, not looking up from the board.

You watch him move his knight forward as you ask, “And that’s all we’re doing?”

“As it stands, yes,” he looks up at you, though you don’t return his gaze.

“Yeah,” you sigh, sliding your rook, “But later?”

“Later?”

“Well, you said...” you meet his eyes, “You said you wanted to sleep with me.”

He nods slowly, “I do. Is that alright?”

You consider it for a moment. You already knew that, if you really weren’t okay with it you wouldn’t have come here. And yeah, the idea makes you a little shaky, but in a good way.

“Yes,” you tell him, moving your queen forward two spaces.

“Are you sure?” he presses, moving to sit on the side of the table rather than behind it.

You do the same, sitting on your knees. “Yeah, I just..” you shift your weight, eyes wandering. “I’m not…overly experienced.”

He just smiles at that, like it’s endearing. Your words didn’t quite convey your meaning but your tone did. In any case, he understands the implication. “That’s alright, sweetheart. I’m not going to throw you in the deep end.”

You nod, looking down again.

“You’re nervous,” he comments.

“No, I’m—I mean, maybe,” your voice is barely a murmur by the end of the sentence.

He’s quiet for a moment, observing the way you fiddle with your rings. “What if we get you something pretty to wear? Something that makes you feel pretty. Whatever you want.”

He fishes his wallet out of his pocket, opening and pulling out a lump of cash without even looking. He holds the money out to you wordlessly and you can see from the bill on the outside that it’s at least a couple hundred dollars.

You shake your head instantly, “I can’t take that.”

He doesn’t put the money down but his eyes turn to begging. “Please. I just want you to feel good.”

“Bruce—”

He wavers a bit at that but it’s more of a falter than you’ve seen from him before so it’s easy to take notice of. “What?”

He shrugs barely, “I like when you say my name.”

Your eye contact holds for a moment and your resolve starts to shake almost instantly.

You exhale, “I’m not taking more than a hundred.”

“Two hundred.”

“Bruce.”

He smiles and picks out some of the cash and pockets it, handing you the rest. You don’t comment on the fact that it’s a hundred and fifty more than you’d agreed on.

You look down at the money in your hand like it’s a foreign object, shaking your head. “I don’t even know what to get.”

His thumbs start to rub reassuring circles by the bend of your knees, “Anything you want,” he tells you. “What do you like? Silk, lace, cotton, anything.”

You look up, tilting your head at him with a furrowed brow. “It doesn’t matter what I like, th—”

“It only matters what you like,” He says seriously, lowering himself to meet your gaze. “I’ll love it, no matter what you pick. Don’t worry about that.”

You lean forward a bit instinctually, “Okay.”

His eyes scan across your face in something that you can only recognize as awe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you whisper.

“I want to kiss you again,” he says, voice even quieter.

Your eyes go to his mouth and you can only manage a nod, lips already parted.

He moves forward not a second later, kissing you with more fire than you’d gotten to see the other night. His hands grab at your waist, squeezing lightly as you hook one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

You hear the clatter of chess pieces falling over as he moves nearer to you, large frame leaning over you. You push up on your knees, meeting his lips up at his level. His hands caress around your hips as the kiss gets deeper.

You just start to fumble with the hem of his shirt when he takes your hands in his, pulling them away before breaking the kiss.

“Easy, sweet girl,” he smiles, nudging you back with little force.

You groan, “Why?”

He barks out a laugh at that, stroking your hips again. “I’m not fucking you for the first time on the floor.”

“Then let's go somewhere else,” you nod up towards the stairs.

He shakes his head, that soft smile still playing on his lips. “Not tonight.”

You sit back on your heels again, frowning.

He brushes your hair back, murmuring, “No. But for now, I'll kiss you ‘til you can’t think if that’s what you want.”

You really hope you didn’t perk up at that as much as you think you did.

part two

🌾🌽 i heard a rumor that if you like without reblogging your crops will be cursed but hey what do i know 🌾🌽

[maskedbyghost]

jealous!Simon is on my mind 24/7

even better if the two of you are secretly fucking bc he is scared of feelings, commitment, relationships, and blah blah blah…

and simon wasn’t used to feeling jealous. he had trained his emotions out of him long ago, or so he thought. but as he stood in the doorway, watching you stroll across the shared kitchen on the base, your back turned to him, the name "mactavish" boldly displayed on the long-sleeved shirt you wore, something twisted in his chest.

the sight of you wearing his shirt, so casually, stung in a way simon hadn’t expected. he cleared his throat, trying to sound indifferent, but the edge in his voice betrayed him. "that’s johnny’s shirt."

"i know." was the only thing you said, smirking since he couldn't see your face. you knew exactly what you were doing, but in that moment, you didn’t care.

"why is johnny's shirt on you?" simon asked, his voice low but tight with tension. he tried to keep his tone neutral, but the undercurrent of jealousy and frustration was hard to hide. seeing you in johnny’s shirt stirred something uncomfortable deep inside him, a mix of possessiveness and insecurity that he wasn't used to feeling. he hated how something so simple made his chest tighten, how the sight of you in someone else’s name made him feel like he was losing control of the one thing he was afraid to admit he cared about.

"oh, he gave it to me because i was cold," you said, pouting slightly as you turned around to face the only man you ever wanted "he is such a nice guy."

simon managed a slight nod, his mind blanking from the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him. everything felt too much, too fast. meanwhile, you casually turned your back to him again, giving him another clear view of soap's name stretched across your shoulders as you began making your tea. the tiny grumble that escaped simon’s lips didn’t go unnoticed—it sent a wave of satisfaction through you, a small victory that made your day. you loved torturing him. and, after all, he did deserved it.

frustrated, he walked over to the sink, grabbing a glass of water, hoping it would cool the fire raging inside. but as he turned, his grip slipped, and the water splashed across your front. simon froze, watching the water drip down your shirt, half-shocked and half-relieved for the excuse to make the shirt disappear.

simon froze, his eyes glued to the water dripping down your shirt. after a beat of silence, he muttered, "well, guess you’ll need to take that off now. what a shame."

shocked, you watched as he put the glass down and left the room, still feeling the cold water seeping through the fabric. did he seriously just accidentally splash you and then walk out like nothing happened? that bitch.

*

later, as you slept in your bed, wearing your shirt this time, you stirred slightly at the feeling of someone’s arms wrapping around you. you didn’t even need to open your eyes or turn around—you already knew who it was. that familiar warmth could only belong to simon.

"simon?" you muttered groggily, barely able to make out the shape of him in the dim light. "what are you doing here?"

"shh, just sleep, pretty girl," he whispered softly, his breath warm against your ear. "i just wanted to apologize for how i acted earlier."

"i'm listening," you murmured, your voice barely more than a whisper.

simon’s arms tightened around you as he spoke. “i’m sorry for earlier. i know i’ve been pushin' you away and acting like an idiot. seein' you in johnny’s shirt... it just brought out this jealousy i didn’t want to admit i had. i hate feelin' like i’m not enough, or that someone else might have a piece of you. the truth is, i want you to be only mine. i can’t stand the thought of you being with anyone else. i just wanted you to know that, even if i messed everythin' up.”

“well, isn’t this a surprise? i didn’t realize it took me wearing johnny's shirt for you to admit your feelings.” you said with a hint of a smile, turning around to kiss him softly. simon sighed into the kiss, his arms wrapping around you with a sense of relief and affection.

simon pulled back slightly, his eyes intense as he rested his forehead on yours “i mean it, you know. you’re mine—only mine. no one else gets to touch what’s mine.” his voice was firm, yet tender, which made his words more meaningful.

"did you have a similar conversation with soap?" you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

simon grinned, leaning in even closer. “yep, told him to keep his wardrobe to himself unless he wanted a 'property of simon' label slapped on everything he owns.” he sealed his words with a gentle, lingering kiss, his lips tenderly brushing against yours as if to mark his claim in the most intimate way.

*

soap: so, i guess it worked?

y/n: your shirt got wet, but i got what i wanted. thanks, bestie.  

soap: i think i got worse treatment from simon than the shirt did, but anything for my two lovebirds.

[consciouscarrot]

day 31 - foursome [r.lupin, s.black, j.potter]

poly!marauders x fem!reader

content warnings; fucking filth, barty slander (sorry), bit cringe on the werewolf mentions (sorry again), very unrealistic smut, public vaginal fingering (r receiving), male oral (remus and sirius receiving), bondage with a belt (r receiving), female oral (r receiving), p in v sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, squirting, anal fingering (sirius receiving), lots of pet names (as usual), implied subspace, one mention of drool/dribble, a bit of sirius x remus focused :))

notes; last fic for my first (and hopefully not last) kinktober. only remus for a while, then the boys join later- not much james in this one i’m afraid. longest fic to date by a landslide eek MDNI

kinktober/flufftober masterlist

—————

professor binns was rabbiting on about something you really didn’t care to listen to, more than happy to just copy remus’ notes later on.

you were sat together at the back of the classroom, trying not to doze off at the monotone voice echoing throughout the room. remus’ hand sat steady on your thigh, where it had been practically glued for the past couple days, the full moon rapidly approaching.

he was always more possessive around this time, wanting no one but the boys to as much as look at you, and even then they were on thin ice. it almost always ended up with you spread eagle beneath him, his thick cock pounding into you, impossibly high stamina causing you to be practically immobile by the time he’s satiated.

clenching your thighs together, you snapped out of your lustful daydreams, looking around to make sure no one noticed, when you spotted barty crouch jr staring at you, insufferable smirk on his face as he looked you up and down, eyes very obviously lingering on your tits.

you shifted, trying to turn away from barty’s leering when you felt remus’ scarred hand slide further up your thigh, edging awfully close to the hem of your skirt, his fingers tightening against your flesh in a near bruising grip.

looking at up at him, you saw his gaze locked on barty, eyes narrowed and barely containing the possessive growl you knew his wolf wanted to let out.

“remmy?” you inhaled sharply when his fingers slipped underneath your skirt, teasing along the gusset of your cotton underwear in slow, barely there touches, just enough to get slick to pool out of your cunt, desire creeping up your spine, leaving you near breathless with want, despite the perverted audience.

you bit your lip, trying to keep your expression neutral as you whimpered his name again quietly, looking over to find barty still staring, though his jaw had dropped slightly, focus much lower than it had been before.

“can you keep quiet for me, angel? need to teach junior a lesson,” he said, not bothering to spare you a glance as he pulled your now damp underwear to the side, smirking at the little gasp you let out when the cold air hit your bare cunt.

“mine,” he growled quietly, only loud enough for you to hear, never taking his eyes off barty for a second. you were grateful that remus’ hand covered you, not that he would ever let anyone but the boys see your body.

his fingers slid along your slit, collecting the slippery slick as he pulled your leg atop of his. his digits finally entered your heat, and you grasped desperately at his wrist with both hands, simultaneously wanting him to stop and keep going as he pumped in and out of you, tendons flexing beneath your fingertips.

struggling to maintain your composure, you buried your face into remus’ arm, praying that he’d be merciful and cast a silencing spell. blood pooled into your mouth as your teeth broke through your lip, thin skin splitting painfully as your hips bucked into his touch, high building quicker than usual.

“i want you to look at junior when you cum, if you look away even for a moment, i won’t let you cum. do you understand?” he was finally looking at you when you peeled your face from his arm, all teary eyes and flushed as you nodded, mumbling a quiet ‘i understand’ when he gave you a look.

you met barty’s wide eyes, not failing to notice how the front of his trousers has tented up, body tense as he watched your face crumple as you came, head tipping forward slightly at the sporadic pulsing of your cunt.

you collapsed back into remus’ side as you calmed down, eyes fluttering shut so you were unable to see how after remus pulled his cum coated fingers out of your underwear, he licked them clean, skin glistening with slick and saliva.

you nearly jumped when everyone stood up, panicking that they’d all caught on to the depraved act you’d just committed, only relaxing when remus rubbed your arm, telling you that class was over.

quickly fixing your underwear, he helped you up, your legs trembling from the effort so soon after cumming. you could only stand there helplessly as he packed away your stuff, throwing both your bags over his shoulder as you watched him in a daze.

you could barely think as remus half held you up as you started the walk back to the boy’s dorm, you clinging to his shirt as you tried your best to hurry after him.

you squealed when he shoved the two of you into an alcove, casting a wandless silencing spell before pressing you against the cold, brick wall and kissing you. you moaned into it, his saliva soothing your bloodied lip as he devoured you, tongue sliding against yours.

already feeling needy again, you wiggled against him, willing him to understand what you wanted, melting as his lips trailed over your neck, sucking plum bruises into the flesh, his sharp teeth nipping at the tender skin.

“oh- remmy, please,”

“shh, i know,” he said as he pulled away, undoing his belt, “need to feel your mouth on me, baby.”

you nodded mindlessly, his fingers pressing down on your shoulders until you dropped to your knees, placing your hands on your thighs obediently as you waited for his further instruction, watching with eager eyes as he pulled out his throbbing cock, tip red with arousal, a small glob of pre dribbling down his slit.

he fisted at your hair, clasping it into a makeshift ponytail before using it to guide you closer, hips jumping in suspense. leaning forward, your tongue swirled around his tip, the salty taste of his pre exploding on your tongue, making you whimper. he groaned low at the vibrations, muttering sweet yet filthy praises as his head tilted back against the stone.

dark eyes bored into yours as you took him down your throat, never looking away from eachother, even as you choked around him and tears ran down your face, cooling your heated cheeks.

“oh fuck- gonna come in that pretty mouth of yours- so close- so- oh,” his hips stilled, cum spilling onto your tongue with a drawn out moan, fingers digging into your scalp.

he nearly came again when he opened his eyes, the sight of you sat so prettily before him, tongue sticking out to show him the way his pearly cum coated the pink muscle, smiling softly with dilated pupils and oh so eager to please him.

“shit- good girl, you can swallow now,”

you nearly beamed at that, swallowing happily as he pulled you up into his arms, pressed your bodies together to kiss you again, the taste of himself on your tongue making his dick twitch as he put it away.

~

you barely made it back to the dorm, having to stop every so often to exchange sloppy kisses and dry hump eachother, just to ease the tension until the need to feel each other’s bodies was satiated for a moment.

he opened the door for you, finding the room empty, and you realised that james and sirius were most likely going to be late back as they’d be coming from quidditch practice.

you turned to remus, finding him watching you, back leant against the door.

“strip and get on the bed,” he said, leaving you no room for arguments as he rolled up his shirt sleeves.

you walked over to his bed, ripping off items of clothing as you move, before crawling up to kneel again, waiting patiently for him.

he spent a few minutes just watching you, observing your every tic, the way you breathed heavily, mouth slightly parted and cheeks rosy, the way your breath hitched when he began to walk over to you, loosening his tie and undoing his belt again, wrapping it around his rough palm.

his free hand cupped your face, thumb gliding over your glossy lips as he smiled at you, pressing the digit into your mouth, humming at the way you suckled at it, lids fluttering in pure bliss.

"what's your safe word, sweetheart?" he pulled his thumb out with a wet pop, smearing your spit back over your lips as you mumbled against him.

"yellow for slow, red for stop,"

"good girl, now lie back for me,"

once you were flat against the bed, he flipped you over, pulling your hands behind your back to tie your wrists together with his belt, tight enough to make it hurt just enough for your mind to go fully spacey.

satisfied with the bonds, he gripped your hips, tugging them up so that you were on display for him, cunt exposed and face pressed into the sheets, facing the closed door.

slick had poured down your thighs, smearing across your skin from all the dry humping and walking. he kneeled down on the bed before gently blowing air onto your puffy cunt, chuckling when you pushed back on the feeling, desperate for any kind of stimulation.

giving you no warning, he shoved his face into the mess between your thighs, eating you out from behind. you cried out, unable but needing to grip at his hair and pull him into you. he lapped at your arousal before drawing your clit into his mouth, sucking harshly at the sensitive nub, holding you down as you writhed and kneading at whatever skin he could reach.

you were a mess of constant whimpers, your high building up quicker than you could cope with. but, just as you were about to fall apart, he pulled away, your orgasm falling just right outside your reach.

“no, no please-, i was good! no-,”

remus watching your cunt clench around nothing, even more slick dribbling out, although now it had turned thicker and opaque, just how he liked it.

“you’re creaming f’me already, baby? i don’t even have to try and your cunts all messy,”

tears streamed down your face and you begged him to make you cum, begged him to make you feel good, making desperate promises to do anything he wanted, anything at all.

“shh, it’s okay, need to feel you cumming round my cock, ‘kay?”

you nodded, just happy that you were getting what you wanted.

he pulled his cock out again, still damp with your saliva as he rubbed his tip against your puffy cunt before pushing in. you always took him so well, tight walls hugging him like a glove, pulsing to accommodate his length, cunt almost as eager to please as you were.

you mewled as he started fucking you, one of his feet up by your head for leverage, pounding into your sloppy hole. you were so close already, only needing a few thrusts to tip over the edge, your thighs trembling and fingers trying to grasp at anything behind you.

you screamed when he didn’t stop, gushing around his cock as you’re immediately sent into another orgasm, his fingers swirling on your oversensitive pearl. you tried to squirm away, mouth open in a silent scream as you panicked at the overstimulation.

he hushed you, groaning at the way you clenched down on him before he pressed his weight onto you, cementing you to the mattress and biting into your shoulder to keep you grounded.

you were both getting close again, eyes rolling back, his fingers slid up your back to the base of your scalp, gripping at your hair, pain and pleasure swirling together as you came again, squirting so forcefully that his cock was forced out of you.

“this pretty cunt is mine,” he growled, pushing back in just in time to coat your walls in his cum, walls fluttering around him at the noises that came from remus’ mouth.

you sighed, beginning to relax now that you thought you were getting a break, thinking he was going to stop and pull out any second.

you started sobbing when reality hit you, his hips never slowing. you were so overwhelmed and feeling almost too good, his tip hitting your g spot perfectly on every thrust, clouding your head in a fog so thick that you wouldn’t be able to get out of it on your own, completely gone under his touch.

“i know, i know, bunny. doing so well, that’s it, sweet thing,”

you’re a complete mess beneath him, shaking violently as you babbled, unable to form proper words or sentences, nipples brushing harshly against the sheets.

you barely noticed the door opening, both james and sirius entering wide eyed to the display of you being pounded into the mattress, looking at them all glassy-eyed with an empty head.

“are you two just going to stand there like muppets or are you going to join us?” remus quipped, moaning loudly when you squirted again.

snapping out their daze, sirius quickly locked the door behind him before they scrambled over, cocks already chubbing up.

james went over to remus, rubbing at your back as he intently watched the strings of slick joining your skin as the latter thrust his hips into you, the sounds of skin slapping and lewd, wet squelches filling the room.

sirius however, went straight over to your head, kneeling down next to you with concern wrenching his features, carbon black eyes piercing into your teary ones.

“you okay, lovebug? doing so good for rem,” he said quietly, more than well aware of how remus could get at this time. he stroked your sweat-damp hair out of your flushed face, ignoring the way his cock was throbbing in his trousers at your uncontrolled noises, completely pliant and docile.

unable to speak, remus luckily took mercy and answered for you, “she’s juusst fine, aren’t ya, sweet thing?”

you nodded into the sheets, james testing the waters a he ran his hands strayed from your back, squeezing at whatever flesh remus allowed him to.

sirius planted kisses over your face, murmuring praises to you sweetly. he loved these moments with you, getting to be the one to comfort you whilst you were flying high on pleasure. he kept talking you through it as remus came again, soothing you when you whimpered at remus pulling out to let james have a go, leaving nothing to stop the mixture of his and your cum to dribble out of you, trickling down your sore thighs.

remus undid his belt from around your wrists, rubbing at the reddened skin as he encourage james to take his place, watching as the latter pushed into your heat, whining at the warmth of you.

“easy now, she’s tired,”

“she feels so good,” james grabbed your ass, fingertips digging into the soft skin as he started thrusting into you, starting out slow and controlled before he gave up trying to hold back, fucking you so hard you could barely breathe.

you just about managed to bring your aching arms up, reaching for sirius, he brought his hands to meet yours, thinking that’s what you wanted, only to lurch over at the way you palmed over his trousers, fingers fiddling with his zip.

“please?” you whimpered, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“okay, okay fuck- think you can take me in your mouth, darling? yeah? okay,”

sirius bit back a groan at the way you were already salivating at the sight of his cock, drool slipping out the corners of your mouth as your tongue lulled out, looking up at him as you waited for him.

you let out the prettiest little noises around his cock, sending vibrations through him making him shudder as remus came up behind him, guiding him to lean back and let him undress him.

you hummed in satisfaction, watching remus tease at sirius’ nipples and suck at his neck whilst both their eyes were on you, muttering filthy things as james continued to fuck you, all desperate thrusts of hips and sweet moans.

“good girl, taking siri so well,”

“yeah, she’s so good- more please- oh,”

sirius’ balls slapped against your wet chin, his hips bucking into your mouth when you increased the suction, tongue swirling at the underside of his cock, gagging slightly at the intrusion.

james pulled your torso up a little, tugging you up so that sirius could fuck your mouth easier, strong arms working to hold you up, “there you go, feeling good, baby?”

you nodded the best you could with a cock between your lips, eyes rolling to the back of your head with the noises that echoed around the room.

sirius’ cock twitched in your mouth when remus’ hands started wandering, watching the way he cleaned up you spit coated chin with his fingers, before sliding his hand down to sirius’ ass, gently stroking over his rim, causing him to buck into your mouth harshly.

“fuck- rem i can’t- cant take both,”

“yes, you can pads, let us make you feel good, hm?”

sirius had no chance to object before remus was pushing a finger inside, prying open his tight hole and pressing against his sweet spot, making sirius toss his head back against remus’ shoulder.

sirius’ hips bucked wildly into you, moaning at the way you spluttered around him, spit drooling onto his hard cock. he didn’t last long before cumming straight down your throat, the dual sensations of your mouth on him and remus’ fingers inside too much at once.

whimpering as you continued to suckle on his sensitive head, his legs gave out, the only thing holding him up being remus’ free arm wrapped around his waist. the lycanthrope’s fingers slowed to a stop as he gently pulled the boy’s cock out of your mouth, before guiding him to lay down next to you.

you brought a shaky hand up to sirius’ beside you, clutching at him for dear life as james pushed you head back into the linen sheets, hips speeding up more than you thought possible.

the warmth deep inside your belly was spreading, making your toes curl, unable to do anything but cry and take it, screaming in pleasure.

your thighs were burning from exertion, jaw aching and cunt oversensitive, but you didn’t care, you weren’t even capable of caring about anything other than cumming at that moment, the feel of james’ tip hitting your g-spot rendering you cock drunk.

“you’re so tight, lovie. need to feel you cum, m’so close- oh,”

remus knelt down beside you, taking sirius’ place as he murmured to you, “being so good f’me, darling. just one more and you’re mine again. cum on jamie’s cock for me and i’ll spend the next 24 hours worshipping your body.”

you instantly fell apart, nails digging into sirius’ skin as your eyes rolled back, body shaking so hard that james was half worried he’d broken you, before he too came, flooding your insides with his seed, your pulsing cunt milking him for all that he’s worth.

you both collapsed, lying in a pool of your own bodily fluids, a mixture of everyone’s cum and sweat, spit and tears. you couldn’t find it within yourself to care, still mewling even though no one was touching you anymore, aftershocks nearly enough to make you cum again.

using what little strength you had left, you managed to peel open your eyes, finding remus’ gaze still locked on you, lips pulled into a smug smirk as he mouthed to you, “mine.”

he planted a long kiss to your sweaty forehead, before he allowed sirius to pull you into him, your tits pressed against his chest as you buried your face into his neck, dark curls tickling your nose, his arms enveloping you.

you felt remus stroke at your hair, still knelt on the floor, as james joined the cuddle, curling up behind you with a worn out sigh, “what triggered that then?”

you whined into sirius at the question, worrying that it would set remus off again, the former’s large hands rubbing soothingly at your back.

“junior was leering at her,” he growled, tension filling the air as his fist subconsciously gripped at your hair, making you go rigid, “he wanted to touch her.”

“we can deal with it tomorrow,”

“yeah moony, let’s just look after our girl for now,”

remus hummed, seemingly content with that, fist relaxing as he pressed a few apologetic kisses over your head, waiting until you hummed in acknowledgment to speak, voice low with thick desire.

“it’s my turn again, sweet girl,”

despite being so worn out, you couldn’t help the way your cunt clenched at that, warm cum oozing out with a sleepy moan.

you were the lamb to his wolf, helpless prey only there to entertain him, to please him; and he would never let you go.

[jaylalolz]

Heyy girl i love ur writing so much! Could i do a request of Father Charlie Smut, with him and reader who loves wearing short dresses and skirts but like she’s innocent girl. She wears one during mass and he can’t stop eyeing her the whole time.

❛ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 ❜ . . . nicholas chavez

INNOCENT!reader x PRIEST!charlie 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

SUMMARY, charlie can’t take his eyes off of her while she wears those short skirts all the time. he realizes that she needs to be punished.

A/N, thanks for requesting!! hope you like it.

WARNINGS, smuttyyyy

Charlie stood at the altar, his voice steady as he read from the Bible. It was an ordinary Sunday mass, yet something felt off. His words were focused on the sermon, but his mind kept wandering, distracted by a presence in the crowd. A familiar one. He tried to ignore it at first, pushing through the scriptures, but every few minutes, his eyes darted back to the same spot.

There she was, sitting in the third row—his favorite girl. She had a way of turning heads without even trying.

Charlie noticed her as soon as she entered the church, the short, black skirt she wore clinging tightly to her legs. It was far from appropriate for a Sunday service, or for any visit to church. It wasn’t just the length—barely reaching mid-thigh—but the way she seemed completely unfazed by it, sitting there confidently, crossing and uncrossing her legs like the length didn’t matter.

He could feel a tension rising inside him, an unfamiliar mix of emotions that tugged at his composure. Why had she worn that here, of all places?

As mass ended and people began filtering out, Charlie couldn’t help but keep his eyes on her. He needed to say something, to address it before it gnawed at him further. With a sigh, he stepped down from the altar and walked toward her.

She was lingering by the restrooms, her usual smile playing on her lips. As soon as she saw Charlie approaching, her eyes brightened.

“Charlie,” she said warmly, tilting her head. “Your sermon was great today.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, his tone a little more serious than usual. He paused, looking at her outfit up close, his brow furrowing. “can we talk for a second?”

Her smile faltered just a bit, noticing the change in his mood. “Sure,” she said slowly, stepping aside with him.

Charlie took a breath, keeping his voice low. “Listen… I couldn’t help but notice what you’re wearing today.”

She blinked, her brows raising in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“The skirt,” he gestured awkwardly, his eyes darting to the hem that barely covered anything. “It’s… not exactly appropriate for church.”

She looked down at her outfit, as if she hadn’t even thought about it before. Her expression was neutral, but there was a hint of something else in her eyes—maybe defiance. “Is it bothering you?”

He shifted on his feet, unsure how to respond. “It’s just… This is a place of worship. People come here to connect with God, and I think what you’re wearing might distract from that. Not just for me—for everyone.”

Her lips curled into a small smile, her voice softening. “Are you saying I’m distracting you, Charlie?”

His face heated up at her teasing tone, but he forced himself to stay serious. “I’m not trying to make this personal. I’m just asking you to be mindful of where you are.”

She studied him for a moment, her eyes searching his face as if weighing her next words carefully. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene. It’s just a skirt, Charlie. Can’t help it if people stare.”

“I know that,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But people judge, whether we like it or not. And in a place like this, modesty is important.”

Her smile faded, her expression softening. She looked him in the eye, sensing the sincerity behind his words. “I didn’t think it would be such a big deal. But… I’ll be more careful next time.”

He exhaled in relief, nodding. “Thanks. I just want to make sure everyone’s focus is where it should be.”

She gave him a playful nudge. “Well, maybe you just need to focus a little better.”

“You think this is appropriate? You’re drawing attention to the wrong things” Charlie ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep his cool. He knew he wasn’t explaining it right, but the way she stood there, so confident in defying him, was only making his thoughts more muddled.

She cut him off, her eyes narrowing. “Drawing attention? Isn’t that a you problem? Maybe you’re the one who’s distracted, not me.”

Her words hit a nerve, and suddenly, everything Charlie had been holding back came flooding out. “Yes, I am distracted!” His voice was louder than he intended, but it was too late to stop now. “Do you think it’s easy standing up there, trying to give a sermon, trying to focus on leading a mass, when you’re sitting there in the front row, wearing something that… that—”

“That what?” she pressed, her tone icy now.

Charlie swallowed hard, the confession finally spilling from his lips. “That makes it impossible not to notice you. Every time I look out at the congregation, you’re the first person I see. And it’s distracting. It’s not just about the skirt, it’s about… you.”

The air between them felt heavy with his words, and for a moment, She seemed stunned. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, processing what he had just admitted.

“You know,” he began, his voice low and smooth, “I bet you like it when I give you my attention.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt the color rise to her cheeks. She quickly looked away, trying to laugh it off, but her laugh came out awkward, a bit too high-pitched, betraying the nerves that were now crawling their way up her spine.

“What are you talking about?” she said, trying to sound casual, but her voice wavered. She could feel the heat in her face, the way her hands suddenly felt restless as she fiddled with the edge of the throw pillow beside her.

Charlie chuckled, leaning forward slightly, narrowing the distance between them. “You do this thing,” he continued, his eyes never leaving her, “where you act like you don’t care, like I’m not getting to you. But I can see it.” His voice dropped lower, his tone almost teasing. “I can always see it.”

Her heart raced faster now, a dull thrum in her chest. She pressed her lips together, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t wrong. Of course, he wasn’t wrong. She hated that he could read her so easily, hated that she couldn’t hide how his attention made her feel. Nervous, yes. But there was more to it than that, and she wasn’t ready to admit what that was.

“You’re full of yourself,” she finally managed, her words barely above a whisper.

Charlie’s smile widened, that maddening, knowing smile that only made her nerves worse. He leaned back again, but his eyes still held her captive. “Maybe. But I’m not wrong, am I?”

She swallowed, trying to hold onto whatever was left of her composure. “You’re imagining things,” she said, shaking her head, but even to her ears, the denial sounded weak.

“Am I? cause for some reason you always wear a skirt when your around me. I’m not stupid. ” he asked, his tone challenging now, as though daring her to keep denying it.

she looked away again, desperate to break the tension that was steadily building between them. But it was too late. His words had already burrowed into her mind, making it impossible to escape the truth she was trying so hard to ignore.

"Just admit it, already," Charlie said, his voice low and certain, sending a ripple of heat through her.

She swallowed, her hands fidgeting in her lap as she desperately tried to hold onto some sense of control. "Admit what?"

Charlie smirked, standing up from his spot and slowly walking toward her. He was too close now, his presence too overwhelming, the scent of his cologne filling the air around her. He stopped just inches away, his gaze holding hers captive, daring her to keep pretending she didn't know what he was talking about.

"You like it when I give you my attention," he said, his voice almost a whisper, but every word felt like it hit her with the weight of something inevitable. "You like it when I make you nervous."

Her breath caught in her throat. She could feel the heat rising in her face, the rush of adrenaline making her pulse quicken. She wanted to deny it, to brush off his words like she always did, but something about the way he was looking at her made it impossible to lie.

Charlie took another step closer, so close now that she could feel the warmth of his body radiating toward her.

She leaned back slightly, her back pressing against the wall as if it would give her some distance from the truth staring her in the face.

"Charlie, I-" she started, but the words got caught, tangled with her emotions.

He leaned in just a little more, his face inches from hers, his breath warm against her skin. She could feel the tension between them building to a breaking point. His eyes softened, just a flicker of something raw and real underneath the teasing. And in that moment, she knew he wasn't going to let her hide.

"Admit it," he whispered, his voice so quiet, yet so commanding. "You wear those skirts for me”

She hesitated for a split second, her heart pounding in her chest, her thoughts racing, before she finally let go. It was terrifying how right he was.

The way he made her feel, the way his attention seemed to pull her in, no matter how much she tried to fight it.

She couldn't keep denying it, not to him, and not to herself.

"I wear them for you," she finally whispered, her voice barely audible, but she knew he heard her.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Charlie's face, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them seemed to buzz with something electric, something inevitable.

Then, before she could overthink it, before she could take it back, Charlie's hand was at her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin as he tilted her face up to his. The world seemed to slow down, the room spinning away until there was only him, only them, in this moment they both knew was coming.

"Good," he murmured softly, his eyes locked on hers. "My naughty fucking girl."

And then, with a deliberate slowness, he leaned down and kissed her.

It wasn't hesitant or unsure. His lips were warm, soft, yet firm against hers, and the moment they connected, something inside her melted. She felt herself lean into him, her hands instinctively finding their way to his chest, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing holding her upright.

The kiss deepened, his hand slipping into her hair, pulling her just a little closer. She could feel the tension unraveling between them, all the unspoken words and hidden feelings pouring out in that one perfect moment.

Everything else faded away-the nerves, the fear, the constant push and pull-until all that was left was the warmth of his lips on hers, the way his touch seemed to set her skin on fire.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless, their foreheads resting against each other's. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, both caught up in the aftermath of what had just happened, of what had been building for so long.

He says, "I thought about you every single day after I met you for the first time," as he presses kisses to her cheek and slides his hands down her arms in a leisurely motion that mimics the path his wet lips followed on the way up.

She's trying to listen, but as they explore, the ache he's started between her legs feels like it's pulsating in her ears, and his hands are scratching her skin. He shakes his head and lets out a breathy laugh before giving her another painful kiss and nips in between his low, hoarse confessions. “Always thought about those fucking skirts you wore" When he traces his sharp nails from the inside of her knees up to the tops of my inner thighs, she gasps.

He presses his mouth to her ear, his hot breath making her shiver. "No one compares to you," he mumbles, his voice lowering to a low pitch that turns her stomach. He presses his face against her head and lets out a deep groan as the fingers on one hand slide higher and higher until they draw a slow, agonizing stroke up her heat. The other hand smooths back up her stomach.

Her eyes roll closed and she can only hold her breath as her head lulls back. "All those times you teased me.. I think you deserve to get punished," he says forcing her to a wall.

He exhales, "Shit, you're soaking." She can feel his chest rising and falling rapidly against her back as he lingers, slowly and indulgently stroking his fingers along her shamefully damp folds, avoiding where she really needs them. Nipping at the flesh on her neck, he mumbles against her, "Such a good girl for me, yeah?" she nods eagerly.

One of Charlie's fingers sneaks up and softly wraps around her throat, while the other eventually slides up to rest on the area that has been throbbing ever since he had her pinned to a wall. He maintains his lips tight against her ear, matching the pants pouring out of her, starting to circle his fingers around her clit in the same rhythm.

"Do you feel that?" He flicks her nerves more quickly and puts more pressure on them while rasping into her ear. “your chest get tighter and your heart beating faster?"

She shifts her hips against him mindlessly, her mouth hanging wide, and she doesn't even know how she manages to say a breathless yes, but nevertheless, she manages. "How incredible that feels, you never want it to end?" He goes on, getting a closer hold on her throat, not tight enough to stop her breathing, but tight enough to pull a high-pitched groan out of her, taking her earlobe between his teeth. She panted out another yes and swallowed. "That's how I feel when you're around me, looking at me through your eyelashes- smiling at me. I can feel it in my bones."

She squirms, unable to keep still at the fire igniting inside of her, between what he's saying and what he's doing with his fingers, and her legs begin to shake. His loud, taunting voice reverberates around her, his untamed hair strewn about with strands falling in front of his hungry gaze. "No coming just yet, Angel. I need to taste you."

She can only fling her head back and hide a choked groan the moment he presses his lips to her warmth. He offers her one last slow, dimpled smirk as he wraps his arms around her thighs, holding onto her hips as he sits between her legs. His warm tongue flattens against her clit as his fingers bite into her skin while he lets a deep sigh that rumbles up through him and vibrates against her and she whine at the feeling.

Her back arches as she lets out wild cries that she can't control, and she's clinging to his hair for dear life as his tongue begins to circle and draw deft patterns against her nerves. Her senses are completely assaulted by the guttural moans and growls that are coming out of him as he relishes every response he receives from her. The stress within her was nearly too much for her to bear.

She cries out at the sensation as he his ring and middle finger enters her. The build-up to everything and the delicate way he's sucking and lapping at her pulsating core while his fingers coil inside of her to target that point that has her vision blurring are just too many sensations happening at once. He retracts his tongue while maintaining a fixed gaze on her. He accelerates the speed of his fingers, purposefully striking the area of her body that is producing such a strong pressure.

"Charlie" She exclaim, "What-What is, I don't know what's-oh fuck"; she squeezes her eyes tight, feeling a growing sense of violence inside of her. He examines her expression and quickens the tempo of his careful fingers. He purrs, encouraging her to go forward as he flicks his eyes down to watch his fingers thrust into her. "Don't worry baby, just go with it, it's okay, you're okay".

He moans as he continues to watch what he's doing. She begins to shake, her muscles contracting. She can no longer resist the sensation that her body is having a seizure and going into seclusion at the same time. "Charlie!" She throws her head back, arches off the wall, and yells until the pain tears through her like nothing she has ever experienced. When it finally fades, every part of her body feels as heavy as cement, and she nearly collapses on the ground, her chest heaving as she tries to take in as much oxygen as she can.

“Never wear that skirt again or you’ll regret it”

[amirasainz]

So I read a lot of stories similar to my requests. But I just think you are the best author on tumblr, so I wanna ask you😅☺️

Secret marriage with Oscar. They married really young and the drivers reaction. She is always at the races, but just in the shadows. The only one that knows is Charles, because he is Oscars "dad" 😭😍

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

Secret marriage

The F1 paddock buzzed with the usual energy and tension. The race weekend was in full swing, and every driver, mechanic, and team member was focused on the task ahead. It was Friday afternoon, and most of the drivers had just finished media sessions and were now lounging around in the driver's hospitality suite, swapping stories and strategies. Oscar was among them, scrolling through his phone with a relaxed expression.

Nearby, Lando noticed a familiar face in the crowd. A woman, sleek and stylish, with a British Vogue ID around her neck, had been lingering around Oscar’s side of the paddock all day, chatting with him occasionally before darting off to interview other drivers. Lando squinted, intrigued.

“Oi, Oscar,” Lando called out, leaning back in his seat. “Who's that Vogue chick? She’s been following you around like a shadow.”

Oscar glanced up from his phone, trying to keep his expression neutral. “Who, Y/N? She’s just here for work. We know each other pretty well.”

George, who overheard the conversation, raised an eyebrow. “Pretty well? Mate, you guys looked like you were practically whispering sweet nothings before she left the garage.”

Oscar shrugged, but his eyes glinted with mischief. “Maybe we were.”

Lando sat up, fully interested now. “Wait… what? Are you and Miss Vogue dating?”

Oscar chuckled, keeping his cool. “Not exactly.”

Pierre, catching onto the conversation, leaned forward. “Come on, spill the beans! There’s definitely something going on.”

Oscar finally sighed, looking up at his friends with an amused smirk. “Well… actually, Y/N and I… we’re married.”

The room fell silent.

George blinked. “You’re what?”

“Married,” Oscar repeated, his tone casual as ever. “Been married since we turned eighteen, actually.”

The explosion was immediate. Lando gasped, practically jumping out of his seat, while Pierre clapped a hand over his mouth in shock.

“No way!” Lando exclaimed. “You’ve been married this whole time?”

Oscar nodded, barely reacting to the chaos unfolding around him. “Yep. Just never made a big deal out of it.”

“You’re telling me,” George said, his voice high-pitched with disbelief, “that you’ve been secretly married for… what? Three years now?”

“Three and a half, actually,” Oscar replied calmly, clearly enjoying their reactions. “We wanted to keep it private. Just worked out that way.”

Pierre looked like he was about to faint. “Mate, do you realize we never even knew you had a girlfriend, let alone a wife?”

Oscar gave a little shrug. “Guess I’m good at keeping secrets.”

George put his hands on his head. “I thought I was the reserved one around here! But this? Oscar, this is next level. How did we never catch on?”

Oscar chuckled, glancing over at Y/N, who was currently chatting with a journalist a few feet away. “She’s at most of the races. Just… behind the scenes.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Pierre muttered, shaking his head in amazement.

Just then, Charles strolled into the room, looking curious as he caught the tail end of the conversation. “What’s everyone freaking out about?”

Lando grinned, looking ready to explode with excitement. “Charles, you’re not gonna believe this. Oscar’s married! Secretly married, since he was eighteen.”

Charles’s reaction was far more subdued. He simply nodded, a knowing smile spreading across his face. “Ah, yes. I know about Y/N.”

The room went silent again as every driver turned to gape at Charles.

“You knew?” George demanded, wide-eyed.

Charles gave them a smug shrug. “Of course. I’ve known for ages. I’m Oscar’s ‘dad,’ remember?” He winked, referencing the Monaco joke that had become a running gag between them. “It’s my job to know these things.”

Oscar snorted, smirking over at Charles. “Guess you can’t keep secrets from your ‘Monaco dad.’”

Lando threw his hands up in the air. “You’re all insane! Charles knows, Oscar’s been married for years, and we’ve all been left out!”

Pierre shook his head, still processing. “Wait, how did you find out, Charles?”

Charles leaned back, crossing his arms with a grin. “Oscar told me after our Monaco podium. Said he needed someone to know in case he ever needed advice. Before we went partying, I met Y/N and let me tell you, she is a lovely girl. And, you know, as his ‘father’ in the paddock, it was only a matter of time.” He gestured grandly, making everyone laugh.

George narrowed his eyes playfully. “So all this time, we could’ve been calling him ‘married man Oscar’ instead of ‘little Oscar’?”

Oscar rolled his eyes, amused. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t exactly a talking point. We wanted to keep things between us. Y/N’s work with Vogue keeps her busy and traveling too, so it worked out.”

Oscar turned his head towards Y/N, calling out softly with his arm outstretched. " Love, came here for a second, please."

Y/N approached just then, noticing the group staring at her with a mix of shock and admiration. “Is everything okay?”

Pierre looked at her, still in awe. “So… you two are really married?”

She glanced at Oscar with a smile, nodding. “Surprise?”

Lando leaned in, grinning like a kid at Christmas. “How have you kept this a secret all this time? You must have some insane spy-level skills.”

Y/N laughed. “I wouldn’t say that. We just wanted to enjoy it without all the attention.”

“Respect,” George said, tipping an imaginary hat to her. “You two might be the most low-key power couple I’ve ever seen.”

Charles looked proud, wrapping an arm around Oscar’s shoulder. “That’s my boy.”

Oscar rolled his eyes, shoving Charles off. “Alright, alright, let’s not make a big thing out of it.”

Lando looked at Oscar, eyes still gleaming. “Mate, this is a big thing! You’ve been living like some kind of undercover superhero. ‘Married Piastri’ is a whole new level of cool.”

Pierre nodded eagerly. “Right? It’s like finding out Clark Kent was Superman all along.”

Oscar chuckled, clearly enjoying his friends’ reactions. “Well, maybe now that you guys know, I’ll bring her around a bit more.”

Lando lit up. “Please! And maybe you can finally get that double date with George and Carmen going!”

George chuckled. “Right, because that’s exactly what we need. A bunch of drivers swapping marriage advice.”

Pierre smirked, nudging Oscar. “You’re making the rest of us look bad, you know. Now everyone’s gonna ask why we’re not secretly married.”

Oscar smirked back. “Hey, don’t blame me. You all had just as much chance to find out as Charles.”

As the group laughed, Y/N leaned into Oscar’s side, whispering, “Well, I guess the secret’s out.”

Oscar grinned, wrapping an arm around her. “Guess so. But I don’t mind. Not if it means we don’t have to sneak around anymore.”

Charles rolled his eyes playfully. “Alright, alright. Now, can we get back to racing, or are you going to give us a honeymoon slideshow too?”

The group burst into laughter, and Oscar looked around, more comfortable than ever. His secret was out, but he couldn’t be happier to finally share it with his friends.

[chuulyssa]

──── FINDING A SECRET OF THEIRS

pairing ⸺ gojo, geto, toji, sukuna, nanami x reader

cw ⸺ fluff

𝙂𝙊𝙅𝙊

the room is uncharacteristically quiet. after checking into the hotel you were assigned to with gojo, you’re sifting through your luggage in a corner of the room. as you get up to keep your clothes in a closet, a faint, almost imperceptible humming catches your ear. you instantly think the place is haunted, but then you turn towards gojo, who’s lounging on the couch with his blindfold pushed up, seemingly lost in thought.

he’s humming a soft, soothing tune, and you’re surprised. it sounded like a lullaby. but where would he have learned one? was it when he took in megumi? you blink. “are you... humming a lullaby?”

“hm?” he freezes mid-hum, and his lips quirk into a teasing grin as if nothing happened at all. “whoops, caught me,” he says, sitting up. “what, were you so absolutely captivated by my beautiful voice that you forgot to unpack your skincare stuff?”

“already done,” you smile and shake your head. “i’m just surprised you can sing. what are you singing though?”

for a little moment, his expression is neutral, and you can’t tell what he’s thinking. then he scratches the back of his head and looks away. “it’s nothing… just something my mom used to sing to me when i was small. i… uh… don’t remember the words.”

you tilt your head at him; he really is quite adorable. you keep your folded clothes on your bed and move to sit beside him, nudging him softly. “must’ve been nice if you still remember that. though i think you would’ve been quite a naughty child.”

he chuckles, pouting at you. “nope! wrong! i was the cutest one. too bad you missed it.”

“well, you’ll just have to show me then.”

“show what?”

“give me a baby that looks just like you.”

“you’re on.”

𝙂𝙀𝙏𝙊

the quiet of his quarters is broken by the sound of a drawer sliding open. you’ve been helping geto sort through some old belongings when you find a small, dusty old photograph tucked away. you immediately shift the socks covering it and brush some of the dust off. it was a picture of him with two young girls, both of them giggling at the camera. geto’s arms were wrapped around them, and they were feeding him what looked like a lollipop.

“sugu?” “hmm?” he hummed back, turning to you.

“look what i found!” you ask, holding the delicate paper up to him. “are these the sisters you were talking about that day?”

geto’s eyes soften the moment he sees it. he takes the photo from your hands, his thumb brushing over the girls’ faces in the picture. “yeah. mimiko and nanako. can’t believe you remembered that.”

“i’ve seen how fondly you talk about them,” you sit beside him and murmur. “and you all look so happy together.”

“we were,” he says quietly. “i’d take them out for sweets whenever i was free — before… you know…”

“before you joined jujutsu high?”

“before… yeah,” he sighs, before smiling a small smile when he looks at the picture again. “they always fought over the last piece of taiyaki.”

“and who would win?”

he chuckles softly. “i let them think they did. ate the scraps myself. but it was nothing, i liked seeing them do their little victory dance.”

there’s a faraway look in his eyes now, as if he’s thinking of something distant, trying to recall a lost memory. you hesitate a little, but eventually place a hand on his arm. “can we visit them anytime soon?”

“don’t know if i can face them after not seeing them for so long,” he glances up at you, nodding. “but i want them to meet you. they’d love you.”

𝙏𝙊𝙅𝙄

you’re rummaging through toji’s toolbox looking for spare toffees (he usually hid them there away from little megumi) when your hand pokes something hard. you wince and look into the box to check what it was. you take the object out, it’s a small, intricately carved wooden bird. your lips curve into a grin and you pick it up, running your fingers over the smooth surface.

you run to the kitchen to show him your finding.

“what’s this?” you ask, holding it up to your eye level.

toji looks over his shoulders from the dishes he was washing. “just something i made. where did you find it?”

“in the toolbox! but, you made this?” you look at him, impressed.

“i can do stuff, you know,” he says gruffly, turning back to his dishes.

“yeah but… it’s so pretty. do you have others as well?”

“yea, used to make lots of those as toys for the brat. he likes the cat.”

“there’s a CAT?”

“uh huh,” he said. “don’t go spreading this around though. got a reputation to keep.”

“if you make me stuff too, sure!”

“alright alright keep your hair on,” he smiled a little. “thanks though. would’ve forgotten about that if you didn’t come here. not many people bother to notice stuff like that you know.”

𝙎𝙐𝙆𝙐𝙉𝘼

you hear it before you see it — the quiet clink of metal and the soft scrape of stone. wandering into sukuna’s private quarters is fun until you get lost amidst all the bones and skeletons. you wonder how he keeps the room smelling great despite all the garbage he owns. turning to another door hoping to see something familiar, you stop short. there he is, something familiar.

sukuna is kneeling in front of a small bonsai tree, delicately trimming its branches with precise movements, as if he was a professional.

“what the hell?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

sukuna glances at you, clearly annoyed. “what? what does it look like?” he snaps, as if embarrassed to have been caught this way.

“you… like plants?” the idea of the king of curses fussing over a little bonsai is almost laughable.

he snorts, setting down his shears. “keeps my hands steady. and it's a better company than most, especially the mortals i’ve come to associate with as of late.”

“if by ‘mortals’ you mean me then i’ve already told you to stop calling me that.” you step closer to get a better look at the miniature tree. “it’s so pretty, i didn’t know you had a soft side.”

“don’t,” he warns. after a beat though, he adds reluctantly. “takes patience to do this, woman. it’s just to… uh… help me train in combat.”

“mhm.”

“yes.”

“suuuuuuureeee.”

“now step out of this room. you may not interrupt my alone time with nature.”

𝙉𝘼𝙉𝘼𝙈𝙄

it’s a slow day at the office, and you’re sitting in a chair in front of nanami’s desk with him opposite you, drowned in paperwork. you flip through the books on his desk when you notice one particularly well-worn copy. what could that be? you pull it out, only to realize it’s a poetry collection.

“you read poetry?” you ask as he sets his pen down to give you his complete attention

he glances at the book in your hands. “occasionally.”

you skim through the pages. there are lots and lots of lines about love and romance. you giggle a bit, feeling giddy. he blinks at you before adding, “it helps me think.”

“think about what?”

“about you.”

you smile hard. “read it to me?” you hold out the book to him, eyes shining in excitement.

he raises an eyebrow but takes the book, then recites in a low voice:

“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.”

you tilt your head in confusion, though your smile cannot be discreet at all. “what does it mean?”

“it talks about when you love someone completely.”

“completely?”

“precisely. quite like how i love you.”

© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.