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Gojo F*xxing Satoru

Day 12 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Jujutsu Kaisen | Gojo Satoru x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, fluff, first time, virginity loss, big dick, cunnilingus, p in v sex, alternate universe - grad school, porn with some plot Prompts: First Times | "Where do you want me to cum?" A/N: How did this take me two and a half days to write?!?! Slightly off schedule for the rest of Kinktober, but will probably skip a few prompt days to even this out. May circle back after October 31 to finish any missing prompts, but we shall see :) ao3 link here.

Gojo Satoru was the bane of your existence.

Literally the bane of your fucking existence.

Because he was fucking perfect.

It was aggravating just how perfect he was: born to a wealthy family, star athlete, valedictorian, scouted by the top law firms in the country, all without breaking a sweat. Gojo Satoru had everything, the money, the jobs, the grades, the looks… the women.

It was disgusting how many women threw themselves at him, not that you could blame them. Not really. If you were anybody else, but you, you’d probably throw yourself at him too.

But you weren’t just anybody else. You were the perpetual number two. The salutatorian. No matter how hard you tried, how hard you studied, how hard you persevered, you could never hold a candle to Gojo fucking Satoru, not even in a mock courtroom arguing for or against a case.

So it was absolutely baffling when Gojo Satoru started pestering you. Out of all the women at Jujutsu Law College, the most prestigious law school in the country, which you worked your butt off to get into, you.

At first you thought it was just a coincidence. You attended the same law school. You had a fair number of shared courses. It was only logical you would interact with one another at some point during your grad school career, but then it became frequent, a multiple-times-a-day daily occurrence. You went to lunch in the school cafeteria – never on a fixed schedule… bam, Satoru… you went to the gym after a full day of classes to work out… bam, Satoru… you went to the gym mid-day because you had a free period – when you knew for a fact Gojo Satoru had class… bam, Satoru… you started the only internship offered to you at some small, no-name law firm… bam, Satoru.

It was getting to the point that you actually thought he might be stalking you with how frequently you ran into him around campus, off campus, way you-need-a-fucking-car-to-get-to off campus. It was uncanny and disturbing.

And of course every time you ran into him, he would relentlessly tease you with that ridiculous smirk of his, calling out to you as soon as he spotted you with his infuriating, “Yo, salutatorian” or “Yo, number two”, beelining towards you to brag about how he scored higher than you in Torts or Corporate Law or whatever other course you shared with him, ruffling your hair or resting his arm on the top of your head because, of fucking course, he was also freakishly tall.

Seriously, how could one person be so goddamn perfect?

It was one of those nights, when you were out with your best friend of two decades and fellow law school classmate, Ieiri Shoko, at some obscure, dingy bar that offered Thursday, ladies only, one dollar beers, where you again happened to see Gojo fucking Satoru striding in with his shock of unruly white hair, those stupid dorky sunglasses he wore all the goddamn time, and his usual expensive, brand name, black bomber jacket over a pristine white T-shirt.

You caught him in your peripheral, groaning as you saw his face light up when he caught a glimpse of you, making his way over easily through the crowd, which parted like the red fucking sea for him, that shit-eating grin plastered devilishly on his stupid handsome face.

“Oh, shit. Isn’t that Gojo?” Shoko asked, poking you incessantly.

You irritably sighed, swatting Shoko’s hand away. “Yes,” you replied flatly, glowering at your beer, your hopes of one fucking day without seeing your academic rival dashed to pieces.

“Yo, number two!”

God fucking damnit.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“I should be saying the same to you,” you muttered darkly into your beer.

“Yo, Ieiri.”

“Hi, Gojo.” Shoko greeted him, but you knew her well enough to hear the squeal of excitement hidden under the smooth facade of her greeting.

You didn’t have to see Shoko’s face to know how brightly her eyes were shining, trying to catch yours subtly without giving herself away. You downed the rest of your beer, knowing you were going to need another one – or four – to deal with Gojo Satoru’s shit tonight.

“Whatcha drinking?”

You almost spat out your beer. Gojo’s face loomed right in front of yours, so close you could make out the black specks in his brilliant clear blue eyes peering at you over his sunglasses.

“What the fuck, Gojo?!” you choked out, coughing, having swallowed the beer before you sprayed him, but having swallowed so quickly a portion of it went down the wrong tube.

“Satoru.”

“Gojo,” you stressed, pushing his forehead back with your finger, “do you mind?”

“Satoru.” He pouted, but thankfully withdrew. “Whatcha drinking?”

“Pilsners,” Shoko interjected, not fully understanding what exactly was happening between the two of you, but understanding enough to be amused.

“I got next round.”

You exhaled as you watched him walk away.

When did you even start holding your breath?

“So…”

“Don’t.” You glared at Shoko, who had the most sly, impish twinkle in her eye, warning her not to continue.

“What’s going on with you and Gojo?”

You sighed heavily, a regular occurrence whenever Gojo Satoru was involved, bringing your glass to your lips, grimacing when you remembered you were out of alcohol. “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“Shoko…”

Shoko looked at you innocently, shrugging as if she had no idea what you were going on about. “I’m just saying… it looks like he’s flirting with you.”

You snorted. Flirting with you. Hilarious.

“He’s not flirting with me. He’s torturing me. Rubbing in my face how I’m just ‘number two’.”

“Mm… that’s not what it seems like to me. You don’t buy beers for someone you’re torturing.”

“You do if you’re flaunting your wealth,” you darkly quipped.

“At some dingy bar on one dollar beer night? Yeah, big spender.”

You massaged your temples with your middle finger and thumb. “Shoko, can we not?”

“Fine.” Shoko threw up her hands, backing off albeit reluctantly. “I’m just saying. You don’t treat someone like that unless you like them”

You scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Gojo Satoru liking you? Please. There was no way Gojo Satoru had a crush on you. That was ridiculous. He had a majority of the women at Jujutsu Law College falling over their feet for him, why would he want you?

Not that you wanted him either.

Something cold pressed against your cheek.

“Pilsner for my salutatorian?”

Gojo Satoru was holding a new, full pint of beer up against the side of your face. Scowling not-so-subtly, you reached for the glass. While you were loath to accept something from Gojo Satoru, beer was beer, and it would be a crime not to drink it.

And god could you use it.

“Ah, shit,” Shoko suddenly exclaimed. “I forgot I had a thing.”

You frowned. “Thing? What thing?”

“The thing.” Shoko gestured with her hands. “The thing I told you about. The thing.”

You stared at her, confused as to what she was going on about. “What thing? You’re the one who wanted to come out tonight.”

Shoko pulled on her jacket, gathering her phone and her purse. “I gotta go. Gotta go do the thing.”

“What– You’re leaving me on my own in some dingy ass bar?” You narrowed your eyes at her accusingly, fairly certain that she did not actually have a thing that she needed to attend to.

Shoko gave you a lopsided grin. “But you’re not alone. You’ve got Gojo.” She turned to the freakishly tall, laidback individual beside you. “You’ll make sure she gets home, yeah?”

“Of course.”

“Great.” Shoko hugged you, bringing her mouth to your ear. “Have fun.” She pulled away, giving you a wicked grin and a wink, leaving you gaping after her as she disappeared into the crowd.

What the fuck just happened?

Did Shoko seriously just abandon you, leaving you alone with Gojo fucking Satoru in some bar?

You chugged your beer, finishing it in record time before Gojo Satoru even had a chance to start drinking his.

“Uh… You sure you can handle that?”

He was observing you, his arrogant smirk still present, his own glass halfway to his lips, but there was a hint of something else, something unfamiliar and foreign, something… soft?

No, not soft. Knowing him, it was probably something condescending like pity or belittlement.

“I can handle it,” you snapped, and eyeing the second beer in his other hand, you added, “Is that Shoko’s beer? You gonna drink it?”

You reached for the extra beer, but he held it above his head, way out of your reach.

“Nuh uh. I don’t think you can handle it, lightweight.”

He was looking down his perfect, chiseled nose at you, the taunt blatantly apparent on his face, mocking you.

“Believe it or not, Gojo, I can handle my alcohol so will you please…” you stood on your toes swiping for the beer, “... just give…” you jumped, “...me the goddamn…” another swipe, “...beer!”

You lightly panted, having failed to procure the beer you wanted from above his head.

Seriously, how was he so fucking tall?

Even on the very tip of your toes, the top of your head barely came to his chin

“Satoru.”

Exasperated, you lost it, yowling like a feral cat, your brows knitting together, creating deep, firm grooves on your forehead. “What. Does. It. Matter?”

Gojo finished his beer, placed the glass down on a nearby table, and then flicked you square in the forehead.

“Ow!” you yelped, rubbing furiously at the red mark you were sure was growing above your brow. “What the hell, Gojo?”

Gojo sighed. “Sa–to–ru. And it matters to me.” He ruffled your hair, turning your carefully blow dried curls into a tangled mess.

You dodged his hand, glaring at him. “You don’t tell Shoko to call you Satoru.”

“Ieiri’s not you.”

Scowling, you brushed your fingers through your hair, trying to undo some of the knots he created. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it means.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense, you’re the thick one for not getting it.”

Gojo brought Shoko’s beer – your beer – to his lips, downing the entire pint in three large gulps.

Watching his Adam's apple bob up and down, something in you finally snapped, all the moments of him relentlessly taunting you about being second place, teasing you about how short you were, stalking you around campus, one-upping you in mock court runs, all erupting into an explosion of something downright deranged.

“Gojo–”

“Satoru.”

“Gojo, for the love of god, shut up.”

You grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, and with as much strength as you could muster, hauled him towards you crashing his lips down onto yours. Gojo froze for a second, stunned, before pushing back, lips moving against yours with a hungry intensity. His tongue darted along the crevasse between your closed lips demanding to be let in, and you acceded, parting your mouth for him to slip in. The kisses deepened, your fingers curling even tighter around the fabric of his jacket, breathless sighs escaping in between kisses. Somewhere in the torrent of kisses, his sunglasses came off and his hands found themselves twisted in your hair, intertwining your curls between his fingers.

Breaking for air, you released your hold on Gojo’s jacket, rocking back on your heels and pulling away, keeping your eyes averted towards the ground.

Fuck. Just… fuck. What the fuck have you done?

Biting back a self-deprecating groan, you closed your eyes, taking a shaky deep breath in and letting it out slowly.

“Gojo,” you hesitantly started, threading your fingers together, for the first time in your life, not quite sure what you wanted to say to him. None of your bravado remained. All you knew was that you would have to see him again on Monday in class, and the last thing you needed was for things to be awkward or for him to hold whatever this was over your head.

“It’s Satoru.”

Your eyes snapped to Gojo’s as he spoke. There was a forceful edge to his husky voice, a commanding presence, one that he rarely displayed outside of the courtroom. Your breath hitched at the way he was just staring at you, his eyes dark and turbulent, storming with need and want.

“Sa–” you cleared your throat, the feel of his first name foreign in your mouth, “Satoru.”

Satoru acknowledged you with a hum of approval, the corners of his lips flicking up into the start of what could be a smile.

Your mouth felt parched. You were shivering at how intensely he was staring at you, at how his hypnotizing cerulean eyes were reeling you in, mesmerizing you until everything other than the infuriating man in front you faded away.

He grazed his lips along the outline of your shoulder and up your neck until they reached your ear, electric tingles crawling from where he touched, jolting down your spine. “You wanna get outta here?”

You nodded slowly. Your mind was hazy and dazed, drowning in Satoru’s eyes, barely able to put together a single intelligent thought to save your life.

How have you never noticed just how gorgeously blue his eyes were before?

“Come on.”

Satoru took your hand, interlocking your fingers between his. Your hand felt so small in his hand, cradled in his broad palm, his body heat radiating up your arm.

The tension between the two of you was thick and supercharged, heavy and tumultuous, on the verge of a catastrophic eruption – coming out of the bar, in the taxi ride back to your apartment, in the elevator going up to your floor, down the hallway to the door of your unit, as you input your code into the lock and the door clicked open.

When the door opened, it was like a switch flipped in Satoru’s brain. His lips were on you faster than you could react, tasting you with his tongue, nibbling on your bottom lip. His dizzying onslaught of kisses came so rapidly, you barely had the presence of mind to make sure you closed your front door and locked it before stumbling through the foyer, wrapped in his embrace.

Keeping his lips locked with yours, he fumbled to remove his jacket, yanking his arms out of the sleeves, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. Your fingers teased the hem of his shirt, slipping under and feeling his muscles ripple under your fingertips, feeling for the first time just how lean he was.

Holy fuck.

You knew he was muscular. You’d seen him engaging in casual sports with other members of your law class, seen the hem of his shirt ride up when he raised his arms or wiped his face, but feeling it for yourself was different than just catching accidental hints.

Feeling your hands grabbing at his torso, Satoru tugged his shirt off, also throwing it to some random corner of your apartment.

“Where’s the… bedroom?” Satoru murmured in between kisses, tugging at your waist, grabbing a handful of your hair.

You burst into laughter, continuing to kiss him as you shook against his chest. “Satoru, I live in a studio.” Maneuvering him towards the wall, you flipped the switch flooding the room with light.

Satoru blinked, squinting as his eyes re-adjusted to the light, pausing from his titillating ravishment of your lips to quickly survey the small room you called your home.

“My bed’s over there,” you whispered, guiding his chin in the direction of your modest double-sized bed.

Satoru hiked you up without warning, forcing you to wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist, an unexpected yelp squeaking out. He strode over to the bed, covering the distance quickly given how long his legs were, and tumbled onto the soft mattress with you still in his arms, beginning another dizzying wave of an unyielding assault of his lips, but this time they roamed down your neck, along your collarbone, planting themselves on every inch of exposed skin he could reach.

His lips were like fire on your skin.

Your legs were hooked around his thighs, and your hips ground into him every time he lit another part of you on fire, evoking small groans from Satoru.

“Take my shirt off,” you breathlessly moaned into him, wanting to feel his body heat burn against your bare skin.

Satoru was only happy to oblige, removing himself from you only long enough to pull both your shirt and bralette over your head and to admire your heaving chest. He cupped them in his large hands, planting his needy mouth over your pert nipple.

Ah, fuck.

An electric zing ripped through you when he rolled your sensitive peak gently with his teeth.

Oh heavenly fuck.

His hands were kneading, pinching, squeezing, while his mouth was pulling, biting, sucking, and the combination had you writhing in his hands. Your hips were gyrating into the firm bulge in his jeans, the friction against your pelvis delectable.

“Fuck, saluta–”

“You know my name, Satoru.”

Satoru groaned your name, a shaky growl on the edge of the last syllable, shuddering when your hips jerked and painfully dragged along the length of his clothed erection. “Fuck, I wanna taste you.” He reached for the waist of your tight jeans, undoing the button quickly, pulling down the zipper, sliding his hand under the fabric.

Your eyes, which were closed in euphoria, snapped open, and in a panic, you grabbed his wrist before he could delve even further.

“Wait.”

Satoru stopped. He looked up from where he had just been worshiping your chest, brows furrowed with concern. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s–” You bit your lip, the words sitting heavily in your throat.

“What’s wrong?” Satoru propped himself up higher, the hand on your stomach rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

“I’ve…” you took in a shaky breath, “I’ve…”

Supporting himself on one forearm, Satoru cupped your cheek, his gorgeous, azure blue eyes peering down at you softly. “What is it?”

You swallowed, finding yourself drowning in those stupid eyes again, your stomach in knots from the anxiety of the words you were about to say. “I’ve… never done this before.”

His brows wrinkled, not following what you were trying to convey. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never done–” you gestured to his lap “–this before.”

“I don’t under–” Satoru’s eyes widened, the meaning of your words hitting him. “Oh… Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You felt yourself blush seeing his reaction to your admission. You chewed on your bottom lip, anxiously wanting him to say something. Anything. You had never admitted this to anyone before, not even Shoko, though she likely already knew that you were still a virgin. She did have a front row seat to all of your sparse romantic entanglements.

Gojo Satoru for the first time in all the time you’d known him was silent.

“S’toru?” you hesitantly asked, prodding the stunned man hovering above you.

He blinked, coming out of whatever trance he was in, an expression you couldn’t read crossing his face. “We can stop if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

“You sure?”

You nodded, holding your breath.

“You’ve had a couple of drinks, I don’t think–”

You scoffed. “Satoru, I’m not drunk, let alone tipsy.”

“I– Are you sure?”

You looked straight into his eyes. “Yes. I want to do this.”

In all the years of wondering when and how you would lose your virginity, you never imagined it would be like this. With him. But you did want this. Badly. You wanted him right here, right now, virginity and rivalry be damned.

“You won’t regret this?”

Jesus Christ, even when he was tender he was infuriating.

You threw your head back, a long, drawn-out, frustrated groan exploding out of you. “Oh my god, Go– Satoru, no, I will not regret this. Will you please just fuck me?”

Satoru blinked, and then he was capturing you in a passionate, toe-curling kiss, caressing your cheek. He sat upright, sliding the last remaining articles of your clothing down your legs, grazing you softly with his fingertips, and then he sat there, mouth open, drinking in the sight of you under him.

“Satoru?”

“Uh, yeah, gotta… gotta get you ready for me.” He gave you a lopsided grin, and gently palming your thighs, settled in between your legs, quietly groaning as he inhaled your scent. He pressed a murmur of a kiss on your clit, and sensing the nervous tension in your thighs, he squeezed them reassuringly. “You gotta relax.”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

You clicked your tongue. Smart ass.

But his quip didn’t hold his usual teasing sass, and you focused on releasing the tension in your tight muscles. Which, as you found out, turned out to be easy. Because you turned into jelly the moment Satoru ran his tongue along your slit and up to your clit.

You sharply gasped. You might be a virgin, but you weren’t a stranger to pleasure having learned how to stimulate yourself with your fingers and the occasional toy, but this…

You arched your back as he flicked the tip of his tongue over your swollen, sensitive bud.

This was nothing compared to how you satiated yourself alone in your bed at night on those occasional moments you needed release.

This was bliss.

You felt him snicker against your cunt. “So wet for me…”

You had half a mind to swat at his head, but he sucked down hard, and whatever thoughts you had of wanting to slap him flew out of your head, reacting to his sinful mouth by twisting your hands in his unruly hair instead. He grunted when you inadvertently pushed him in closer, your thighs clamping against the sides of his head, hips bucking up with each jolt of electricity buzzing through your center.

“Goddamn, girl.” But he didn’t let go, continuing to devour your quivering cunt with the desperation of a man deprived. “So fucking wet.”

You squirmed, the sensation of him mouthing you, lapping at your folds, circling the entrance of your pussy, spinning into an intense whirlwind.

“That’s it,” Satoru instructed, feeling how your muscles were clenching and releasing rapidly. “Let go. Cum for me.”

Everything within you pulled taut, tightening into a pressure cooker of overwhelming ecstasy, bursting violently in an explosion of strangled cries moaning Satoru’s name, your back lurching off your bed, stars swimming in your blackened vision.

And as the explosion roiled through your trembling body, Satoru continued to tantalize every inch of you between your thighs, firmly holding your erratically bucking hips in place, until you softened into a quivering mess.

“Geez, number two, didn’t know you could scream like that.” Satoru smugly smirked, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand.

“Don’t call me that,” you mumbled, flushing from the embarrassment of how hard you just unraveled for him. “Aren’t you a little too dressed to fuck me?”

“Want me that badly, huh?”

But the speed at which he kicked off his own jeans and briefs betrayed how much he needed to be buried deep inside you.

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when he sprang free.

It wasn’t as if you’d seen many dicks in your life outside of movies or TV, but fuck… Satoru wasn’t just big… He was big. The man was fucking blessed.

Without meaning to, you whimpered, your stare fixated on his blessed appendage, wondering how the hell it was going to fit into your virgin cunt.

“That’s not going to fit.”

“I’ll go slow, don’t worry.”

Your eyes flickered from his dick to his surprisingly gentle face, a grimace of distrust written all over yours. “Satoru, you’re too big, I–”

“Sweets,” Satoru calmly said, gazing gently into your eyes with assurance. “It might hurt a bit, but I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

You swallowed thickly, but you nodded. Satoru smiled, a genuine smile absent of any teasing, and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Let me know if you need to stop.”

Another nod.

Satoru positioned himself at your entrance, sliding the remnants of your climax along his erection. He pushed gently, slowly sinking his tip in past the tight entrance.

You hissed, the sudden sensation of yourself stretching to accommodate him deliriously painful in the best way. Satoru waited patiently for you to adjust to him, and when you relaxed, he painstakingly slowly pushed further in, inch by inch.

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” you rasped.

Satoru was shaking, the exertion of holding himself up not to crush you, controlling himself to sink in slowly, forcing him to hold a static position for a prolonged period of time. He was concentrating so hard, the tip of his tongue poked out from the corner of his mouth.

Had Satoru always been this adorable?

Or maybe his dick was just that magical, making you think the most infuriating man alive on this planet was adorable.

Satoru sank in another inch. You groaned. He was stretching you out, dragging along your walls as he sank in, filling you to a fullness you didn’t even know existed.

“Are you not in yet?”

Satoru paused, letting out the most indignant exhale of air. “Are you serious right now?”

You stifled a giggle, but you weren’t trying to be silly. It was sweet how Satoru was taking his time for you, but you wanted to feel him, buried to the hilt, filling you overwhelmingly so that he was all you could think about.

Fuck it.

You wrapped your legs around his waist tightly, hurling his hips into yours for the last couple of inches.

Satoru swore under his breath, but you barely heard him. That last forceful push in meant his tip barreled into your cervix, and fuck… fuck, did that hurt.

Tears welled in your eyes from the dull ache throbbing in your lower belly.

Satoru brushed your hair back, keeping his hips as still as he possibly could. “Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed. “Breathe, breathe.”

A tear slid down your cheek, which Satoru wiped away. You gasped, breathing heavily as you waited for the ache to dissipate, focusing on the air entering your lungs and exiting through your mouth.

“Why’d you do that? Should’ve let me handle it,” Satoru fussed, rubbing soothing circles in your skin and placing gentle kisses on your cheeks.

“I wanted to feel you,” you wheezed, feeling like a downright idiot, but also pleased with how fully buried he was in your warmth. “But you’re too fucking big.”

“Tch… silly girl,” Satoru grumbled, but the corners of his mouth twisted upwards. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to start moving now, is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

Satoru brushed his lips on your forehead where he flicked it earlier that night, and without taking his eyes off of you, started with tiny, slow thrusts. He was barely moving, but even his tiny thrusts were sinfully divine. You rolled your hips with his, wanting more.

“Fuck,” Satoru hissed. “I can’t hold back if you squeeze me that tight.”

“Don’t.”

Satoru broke. He laced his hand with yours holding it tightly above your head, and drove into you frenetically, nuzzling his mouth into the crook of your neck, nipping the soft skin. The heat between your writhing bodies all-consuming, a blazing inferno caught in the dizzying tornado of passion.

You clung to him, deep, thready moans tumbling from your lush, parted lips.

“Satoru…”

“Keep saying my name.”

You whispered his name, the pressure of him moving inside you filling you with a torrential flood of euphoric sensations, reducing you to a puddle of whimpers under his powerful, frantic thrusts. His strokes were unbearably hot, waves of searing pleasure overtaking you, receding and building, incensed by the obscene grunts escaping him.

“I– fuck.” Satoru bit your shoulder hard, growling unrestrained, primal. “Where do you want me to cum?”

It was a bad idea. It was quite possibly one of the worst ideas you’ve had in a while, but it didn’t matter, you wanted to feel him, you wanted him to claim you as his, you wanted him to mark you with his animalistic need.

“In– inside…”

Satoru let out a long maddening moan, so full of his desire, pouring into you in a frenzy, you hit your peak, pulsating around him desperately, unraveling at the sensation of his burning cum coating you inside in erratic bursts.

The two of you shook against one another, heaving as the cloud of ecstasy receded and your breaths calmed to normal. Satoru slumped to his side, pulling you into his chest, pressing a light kiss to your temple.

He chuckled, still wrapped in the hazy aftermath of your shared bliss. “I’ve wanted to do that forever.”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Geez, miss number two,” he grinned down at you, “do I really gotta spell it out for you? Thought you were smarter than that.”

“Don’t call me that,” you retorted. “Spell what out for me?”

Satoru grumbled something you couldn’t quite catch, yelping when you pinched his side, but wrapped his arms around you even tighter, sighing. “It means, I’ve had a crush on you since last year.”

Oh… Your eyes bugged when it sank in. Oh.

Gojo fucking Satoru had a crush on you.

You.

Out of all the women you knew he could choose from…

You.

Your face grew uncomfortably hot. Embarrassed, you buried your face in his chest. You felt Satoru shift, squirming at your silence.

“Say something, will ya? Before this gets more awkward?”

You bit back a groan. “I–” Fuck, you weren’t ready for this. “I think… I think I like you too,” and because you were so embarrassed and upset with how fucking smooth he was, you added, “when you’re not pissing me off.”

Satoru snickered. “So, like we dating now or what?”

“I– I guess?”

“What do you mean by I guess?”

Satoru sounded downright offended. Cute.

“Yes, we’re dating,” you clarified, grumbling that he was making you spell it out for him. “Especially if I get your magical dick all to myself.”

“Magical dick, huh?” Satoru chuckled. “So, miss number two–”

“You really need to stop calling me number two.”

This whole thing was madness. God, Gojo Satoru drove you fucking insane. In more ways than one.

“What should I call you then?”

Brat.

You rolled your eyes. “How about just my name?”

Satoru hummed, the gears in his head turning. “I know, I’ll call you my number one.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he craned down to meet your eyes, glittering with a mischievous sparkle, “you’re number one in my heart.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Ugh. Fucking Gojo Satoru.

Feeling your blush deepen, you buried yourself into his chest again, rubbing into the space between his pecs ferociously. “You’re so fucking cheesy, S’toru.”

“Admit it, you fucking love it.”

You knew that tone of voice. It was the one that came out when he had that adorable boyish grin on his face.

“No,” you grumbled.

But you did. You fucking loved it.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

276 notes · View notes

lotstradamus · 6 months ago

Note

inspired by the manchester anon haha but do you have any tips and suggestions for visiting leeds? 🩷

I've lived here for 2 years now (!!!) but somehow I still don't really know my way around and just go to the same 5 places and use google maps to get anywhere else. it's sad. but here's some shit I love:

Grindhouse - cheap drinks, loads and loads of seats, never too full, music a reasonable volume, and they project 80s movies on the back wall. we once sat in here for 2 hours cos Stand By Me was on. one time we watched the bar staff earnestly tell a group of women on a hen do that the bar was closed and they weren't serving any more drinks, at 7:45pm. 10/10.

Rudy's - only 9 cities* in this fair nation have a Rudy's, so I'm going to keep reccing it for everyone else. perfect Neapolitan pizza. *Leeds, Manchester, Sheffield, Birmingham, Nottingham, Durham, London, York, Liverpool - if you live in one of these places and haven't been to Rudy's yet, sort it out.

Neon Cactus - go here on a Wednesday and order wings, and you'll get half price margs. lots of great Mexican scran. don't take anyone too picky or over 50, because the price for the great food and vibes is that at least one thing you order will be incorrect. but roll with it. half price margs, man.

Empire Cafe - book in advance if you want to sample the delights of Empire Cafe, cos there's like 6 tables max. everything is seasonal, changes on the daily, and is insanely delicious. if you want to experience heaven, order the steak and chips with salsa verde. there is NOTHING like it.

Stuzzi - another seasonal, small plate sort of place, but Italian. amazing food and a gorgeous restaurant. go with a big group and order one of everything.

Eat Your Greens - ANOTHER seasonal restaurant! this one is farm-to-fork and organic. I can’t speak to the quality as I haven’t actually been, but I am a frequenter of their GREENGROCER, which is MEGA. last time I think I left with natty wine, pâté, some insane tinned fish, a jar of harissa and a bag of sunset potatoes. if you like food, go here.

SARTO - fresh, handmade pasta and picky bits. another great place to go with a group and order all the starters. I had a celeriac pasta there last year that I think about on a fairly regular basis; I picked it cos it was the weirdest sounding thing on the menu and it was fucking mouthwatering. good quality and good people! and it's next door to The Wardrobe, so perfect for a pre-gig tea.

Santiago Bar - like Grindhouse (alternative, casual) but the music is louder and you'll find yourself doing tequila shots at 1am and screaming along to, like, Don Broco. it's the best.

Blue Collar Boys - as a rule I hate 'vintage' clothes shops (overpriced, ugly, everything is XXS), but this place seems to specialise solely in American t-shirts and sweatshirts from the 90s in exactly my size, and everything is £10. this is amazing and a huge bargain if you find something like vintage Wranglers and a Playboy bomber jacket (£20, my wife) but not so amazing or a bargain if you find 3 t-shirts with holes in (£30, me). we've never been without finding shit we love. they only open on random weekends, and they always seem to have more stuff than they could possibly ever sell. it's a freaky vintage alternate universe.

The Corn Exchange - a big gorgeous ol' building full of little businesses. vintage, handmade, tattoos, coffee, jewellery, independent brands, yarn, shoes, a barbers, a bookshop, they've got it all. very easy to spend £100 and 6 hours. every so often they have a market on the bottom floor. perfect tiny representation of Leeds: quirky, independent, delicious, cool.

Silver's Deli - this is a 9-minute train ride away in Bramley (my ends!) but has become THEE buzzy foodie spot recently. go on a sunny saturday morning (cos you will probably have to sit outside) and order the everything sandwich. thank me later. if they have scotch eggs or sausage rolls on, I beseech you, order both. and if you want the sunday special prepare to get there at 11 and fight.

Against the Grain - if you've come to Bramley for Silver's, you may as well trundle 10 minutes up the road and visit the best bar in Leeds. cosy, casual, full of locals, hidden in Swinnow Mills. it's a sit-around-and-chat-to-people sort of place, with bonus charcuterie boards AND a pizza van on weekends. we are here A LOT, because Gray's Salon and Rose and Thorn Tattoo are both in the Mill, and we give them all our money. oh! and dog friendly. sooo many dogs.

Project House/Galleria - if you've gotten the train out to Bramley for Silver's and ATG, jump on the 72 back to town and get off at Project House to eat MORE food. Galleria is a great place to get breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and Project House has EVERYTHING (depending on the day). yoga! gigs! vintage fairs! a bi-annual tattoo convention meets makers market with food vendors called Hand of Glory! check what's on and head on down to support local!

Kirkstall Bridge Inn - another one local(ish) to me, but worth travelling out of town for; a PROPER pub (i.e. no tv, no sports, no shite) that does roasts upstairs and lets dogs in downstairs. outdoor seating right by the canal, and every so often they put something on and the car park turns into a tiny festival. Kirkstallpalooza is a highlight. great place to finish a nice canal walk (who am I?!).

tl;dr sorry that this is obnoxiously long, I love Leeds

#BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH #answered #oh let’s add Belgrave to this too. great pizza and vibes

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moralesmilesanhour · 10 months ago

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what you're searching for.

summary: Margo goes to a shitty poetry slam and gets more out of it than she expects. wc: 4.9k warnings: alcohol consumption, and it's like very VERY lightly implied that they had an Adult Sleepover if you get my meaning. Nothing really too suggestive in here I promise. One singular reference to a tiktok. a/n: this took me a whole ass week but I'm very proud of where my writing style is going! somewhat inspired by the film 'Love Jones'. If you enjoyed this pls feel free to leave your thoughts or your favorite line if you have one! EDIT: OH MY GOD I FORGOT TO ADD: the first poem is actually taken from the Junior novel 'Miles Morales: Suspended' by Jason Reynolds! The poem at the end is mine though lmao I'm not the best poet

Margo can’t stand poetry.

Someone gets up in front of you with a piece of paper clutched in their hands, and recites what is simultaneously the most vague and the most painfully obvious string of fragmented sentences you’ve ever heard as if they’d just touched your soul.

It’s not rapping, not preaching, but the ugly middle child standing between them. Some odd bastardization of music for people who thought they were too smart for either of the first two, but weren't brave enough to just give speeches.

Speeches, at least, are coherent, specific, and can be scrutinized.

So far, sitting in the front row of the bar that her classmate Zoe had invited her to for poetry night, no one has changed her mind.

Tonight’s performances consisted of an assembly line of men (and a couple of women) in vintage sweaters ranting about their exes to the rhythm of bongo drums, or some mildly relevant social issue that none had the lexicon to really say anything in stanzas that hasn’t already been said. She had heard nothing yet that sounded much more profound than an Instagram post.

Although, one girl had come up and recited a short poem about her late mother that Margo thought was quite sweet, and the least tortuous to sit through.

The crowd erupted in snaps again for a poet with long braided dreads and an ankh tattoo whose words she had tuned out. The host took the mic and announced the final (thank god) participant:

“Now this next one I had to practically drag over here to get him to share his beautiful poetry with us tonight. Everyone, please give a warm welcome to one of my close friends and colleagues, Miles Morales!”

A lanky young man–Margo suspects about six feet even, given the way he’s towering over the host–awkwardly shuffles over to the center of the stage, offering the crowd a tight-lipped smile.

He’s in a plain green sweater with the sleeves hastily rolled up to his elbows and a bomber jacket tied around his waist. As soon as he’s handed the microphone, it seems to dawn on him that there’s no turning back, and his body visibly tenses.

He clearly just got here, and for once Margo doesn’t know what to expect.

Squinting beneath the bright spotlight, he clears his throat and speaks into the mic.

“Um, hi.”

A few scattered ‘hi’s from the crowd.

There’s something bright and sweet in the tone of his voice that makes him sound a little boyish, and she wonders what he could possibly have under his sleeve that warranted him getting dragged up here last minute.

He takes a deep breath.

“It’s said

That nobody

Is ever more

Than ten feet

From a spider.”

Miles began the poem carefully, like he was confessing something.

“They be everywhere you and me are.”

A few members of the crowd laugh, others shudder at the thought and frown.

“And even though

We see them only

When they big enough to see, or when

They move,

Like a cursor

Across the blank white

Page of a wall…”

His voice loses some of its airiness in exchange for confidence as he recites the rest of the poem, and Margo realizes that he isn’t reading off of anything.

Either he’s improvising, or he has it entirely memorized.

“Or when we trip

The web-like wire

Of a booby trap

Or when they

Fang our flesh

We should probably

Assume most

Just be right there…”

Miles paused and looked somewhere far beyond the crowd, lifting his arm to point to the back of the room. Then he repeated:

“Right there,

Right here,”

He gestures toward the front row, where his eyes land directly on Margo. It’s not so close to the stage that she can tell for sure, but she thinks she sees a hint of a smile cross his lips.

“Looking at us,

Looking over them.”

Silence.

His arm falls limply to his side as his eyes frantically scan the audience, searching for some kind of response.

Then, someone begins to clap. Then another. Then another. WIthin moments, the entire room erupts in applause, causing a shy smile to spread across the young man’s face.

“Uh, thank you!” he says, surprised at the positive reception, before shrinking into himself again and leaving the stage the same way he came.

The host returns and takes the mic from him.

“Miles Morales, everybody!”

After the poetry slam, Margo insisted that Zoe take her to the sushi place across the street. It had a bar sitting off to the side, one with significantly less poets. The decorative lights hung directly above the shelf filled with glass bottles and shrouded them in cherry red.

Zoe takes a sip of her sherry and leans in.

“Sooo, how was it?”

“It was a’ight.”

The light-skinned girl’s lips pull into a pout. “Seriously?”

“Hey, I told you poetry wasn’t my thing,” Margo pauses, then amends, “I liked the last guy, though. Breath of fuckin’ fresh air.”

“Right? His style really caught my attention, subtle.”

“Glad you liked it.”

Zoe’s eyes widened as she glanced just beyond Margo’s shoulder.

When Margo turned towards the familiar voice and froze.

The poet in question was standing just inches away, a friendly smile gracing his features. His jacket is no longer around his waist, neatly folded over his arm like an expensive coat. He is with the excitable darker-skinned man who’d just hosted the event, and a man the shade of sandalwood standing just behind him.

They’re both wearing the same type of muted cardigan as Miles, but they’ve got actual coats.

“Y’all were in the front, right?” Miles asks the both of them, though he’s only looking at Margo.

She nods wordlessly. Zoe picks up the slack.

“M-hm, you were great up there! You’ve really never shown anyone your work ‘till tonight?”

Miles snorts at the wording of the phrase. ‘His work’.

“I wrote that poem in high school,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Wasn’t supposed to be anything serious, but my roommate…”

He gives the dark-skinned man a dirty look.

“...swiped my journal and found it. Told me I should read it out loud somewhere.”

Margo examines Miles’ face and imagines him as a baby-faced high-schooler, sitting in the back of the classroom with a protective arm around the beat-up red composition notebook he’s writing in. He stuffs it in his bag as soon as he’s done, because he has just poured his heart out onto that page, and his crush’s name is in there. Maybe there are tiny doodles of her in the margins.

“Yo,” the sandalwood-colored man claps Miles on the shoulder. “We about to hit up Tiff’s place, you coming?”

“Yeah, in a minute,” Miles nods dismissively. “I’ll catch up with y’all.”

The two other men give each other a knowing look before brushing past him.

“Alright man, catch you later then.”

Once she finally regains the ability to speak, Margo remarks, “You were the only performance I really liked, if I’m being honest.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yeah, this one hates poetry,” Zoe places a hand on Margo’s shoulder and laughs. “Tried to change her mind by bringing her over here, but no dice.”

Miles raised an eyebrow. “What made mine so different?”

“Hm, I dunno…” Margo’s eyes float over his form before making their way back up to his face. “Your delivery, I guess.”

Safe to say, he looks amusedly unconvinced.

“My…delivery.”

She catches herself and quickly adds, “I-I mean, it also kinda felt like everyone else was trying too hard. So.”

He tilts his head at the remark.

“Are you just saying that to flatter me?”

.“I don’t flatter people. Too close to lying.”

“That sounds like half a poem already. Maybe you should go up there next week.”

She gives him a lopsided smile.

“Only if you’re there. I need something to actually look forward to.”

His tongue darts out and passes over his lips.

“What’s your name?”

“Margo.”

Miles hums, softly repeating the name before inching his way over to the counter where he leans his hip on it.

“Pretty. Can I buy you a drink, Margo?”

She doesn’t think her name is all that pretty, but he makes it sound that way.

“Knock yourself out.”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Zoe teases as she rises from her seat. “I’m gonna go order us some sushi.”

Miles takes the stool to Margo’s left as he waits on their drinks, his long legs never needing to leave the ground to do so.

He has a funny way of sitting, hands folded neatly in front of him with his back just a few degrees off from being perfectly straight. As if you needed to look distinguished at a sushi bar.

Church boy, Margo guessed. That, or his daddy’s a military man.

It’s adorable either way.

“You in school?” she asked.

“Yup. Princeton.”

Her eyes lit up.

“Oh shit, me too! I’ve never seen you on campus, though. What’s your major?”

“Physics. You?”

“Comp Sci. Been coding since I was in middle school, so…”

Margo remembers the echoing ‘click-clack’ of her keyboard as she sat in an empty computer lab for hours on end after school because she preferred it to her parents’ house.

The bartender hands Miles two glasses of white wine, and he sets the second glass in front of Margo, his warm eyes still focused on her.

She’s intrigued by how clear they are - no trace of suspicion or calculation behind them. Just the warmth.

“So, where you from? My folks are over in Brooklyn.”

“Georgia.”

Miles’ brows jump to his hairline.

“Damn. What brought you all the way up here?”

To get as far away as possible.

“Well, it’s Princeton,” she says beneath a forced laugh.

“Yeah, but you got, like, eight different HBCUs over there. How’d Princeton win you over?”

Margo breaks eye contact to stare into her drink.

“Needed a change of pace.”

When she looks up to gauge Miles’ reaction, skepticism is written all over his face. But he doesn’t push it further.

“That’s fair. Princeton’s got a cutting-edge quantum physics program that I’m aiming for. Had to beg my parents to come here,” he grins proudly, “but here I am.”

Margo is silent for a moment.

“Can I tell you something?” she asks suddenly, beckoning Miles to lean in.

“Yeah?”

Grinning, she half-whispers, “I’m actually here on a scholarship.”

He gives her an odd look.

“Why’d you say it like that? Nothin’ wrong with getting a full ride. The opposite, actually.”

“Some people might feel otherwise. You’re like, the second person I’ve told other than my parents.”

“And why me?” Miles chuckles. “My poetry was just that good?”

“I just…Hm.”

Margo leans back and takes a contemplative sip of her wine, watching him over the rim of her glass.

Why did she just tell him that?

“I guess I just sorta felt like telling you.”

Margo cautiously sets the wine back down. She figures if she’s not careful, he’ll have her full government name and social security number by the end of the night.

“Y’know, I actually get that a lot,” Miles laughs. “One time, I had this lady I was standing in line with at Target turn around and just start telling me stories about her dead son and how much she misses him. And it’s like, I’m sorry for your loss, but we’re in Target right now and I literally do not know you.”

“Wait, people just go up to you and…tell you shit?”

“Yup. There was this other time at church, too. Just as service ends and I’m about to get up and leave, this short old dude–Dominican, I think–stops me and starts telling me about his entire life. I’m talking start to finish! Apparently I reminded him of his nephew that died in the military or something.”

“Jesus.”

A crease forms between Margo’s brows. She wishes she could say she didn’t understand the old man at church or the lady at Target, but she does. No, it’s not the poetry. It’s got nothing to do with words.

It’s the way that Miles looks at people.

Like he already knows all of your secrets, but you’re not worried because they’re safe with him, so might as well tell them. It’s a merciful sort of gaze; you get the impression that he won’t judge you. You might even tell him more after his friendly ‘boy-next-door’ voice coaxes them out of you. The thought unsettles her because she had done just that.

“You ever had a girlfriend before?” She asks, all of a sudden.

Miles shrugs, “Yeah, in tenth grade, then again freshman year. Didn’t really work out.”

“Why not?”

His brows furrow gently for just a second, as if he’s still trying to figure out the answer to that.

“I…don’t know, actually. It goes well the first few months and then…”

“It fizzles out?”

“I get ghosted. Something about how they’re ‘not ready’. Understandable, I guess, but you don’t have to ghost me, y’know?”

He awkwardly examines his fingers, then his glass.

Margo feels a bit guilty for suddenly bringing up his exes when they’d just met. Would they end up the same way? She saw herself there too, being in a relationship for six months before his weird pastor’s eyes get to be a bit too much and she takes off.

“Yikes, sorry I asked.”

“It’s no problem,” a smile starts to return to his face. “Onto better things, right?”

“Right.”

“And you?”

“Huh?”

“You ever been in a relationship before?”

Margo smiles awkwardly and messes with one of her fingernails.

“Well…not exactly.”

Miles’ eyes widen.

“Never?”

“I mean, guys offer, and then we talk for a little bit, but then…”

“They flake out on you.”

“Pretty much.”

“Damn shame,” he says with a bit of sharpness to his voice. “Not even a first date?”

“Nope, just ‘Read at 4:15’.”

“You know what I think it is?”

Just as he asks this, his knee brushes against her thigh. Margo isn’t sure if it’s an accident, but it distracts her nonetheless.

“What?”

“You’re too smart for them, I can tell. It scares ‘em.” But it doesn’t scare me, is the suggestion.

He smiles then, the kind that shows the whiteness of his teeth on every vowel. It’s wide enough that a dimple comes out of hiding on his left cheek, and she suddenly wants to tell him everything again. She takes another sip of wine.

“So! What’d I miss?”

Zoe finally returns from ordering their sushi at the front with an expectant grin. Miles still hasn’t taken his eyes off of her friend, while she is staring at him like a string of code, which, if you know Margo, is better than nothing.

“You didn’t miss much,” says Margo. “We were just talkin’ about our majors. School stuff.”

Miles checks his phone and lets out a low whistle.

“Well, it was lovely meeting y’all, but I gotta bounce. After getting dragged onstage, I get to be dragged over to a house party, too.”

Just as he rises from his seat, he stops and points at her.

“Before I go, though, d’you mind giving me your digits? I’d love to talk about, uh…computer science…over lunch.”

She snorts, “Who still says ‘digits’?” but hands him her phone anyway.

It couldn’t hurt to try.

“Sure.”

His eyes light up as if he wasn’t expecting her to say yes as he saves his number as ‘poetry slam guy’ in her phone, then hands it back.

“Cool,” Miles begins his walk towards the entrance backwards, holding eye contact for just a little longer before turning around. “G’night!”

“Goodnight!” the two women call out in unison as he leaves.

Margo looks to her left at the now-empty bar stool. The glass of wine Miles left on the counter is full, completely untouched.

It’s still on her mind as she's sitting in her single dorm room, re-writing her lecture notes on cyber security in a meticulous neat print that could almost pass for a font.

Every few minutes her pen stops because she’s distracted by the sound of clinking glass in boxes downstairs, or because she pauses to stare at the white wall in front of her that brings to mind one of the lines of Miles’ poem.

There might be a spider that I can’t see sitting ten feet away from me right this second, she muses to herself. The thought gives her an idea, and the perfect excuse to call him without seeming too desperate.

Margo unlocks her phone and scrolls through her contacts. She smiles to herself at the contact name Miles chose. Did he think she’d forget his name that easily?

His voice soon filters through the speaker.

“Hey, you didn’t throw out my number!”

“Yup, lucky you.” she replies. “I wanted to ask you a question? About your poem the other night.”

“What about it?”

“See, I was thinking about that first line. Are we really never more than ten feet away from a spider? Like, at any given moment?”

There’s a moment of silence from Miles before he asks:

“You…called me just to ask me that?”

“What? It’s a very pressing issue! There’s probably one in the corner of my room as we speak!”

“Alright, I’ll humor you,” Miles laughs. “That’s actually a myth from the 90s. Your distance from the nearest spider really depends on where you’re at, so if you’re in a spot with hella bugs, you’re more likely to see one. You’re probably fine.”

“Now wait just a minute!” Margo gasps dramatically. “So you lied to all those poor folks in there?”

“Sure did. Played ‘em all like a fiddle.”

“Terrible.”

“So, why’d you really call? You don’t sound as concerned about spiders as you say you are, if I’m being honest.”

So much for an excuse.

“Don’t nothing get past you, huh?”

This earns a burst of laughter from Miles’ end.

“You’re a worse liar than me, I wouldn’t recommend making it a habit.”

“Ugh, fine,” Margo admits, “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“You could hear my voice in real life, you know. Offer’s still on the table, and I’m free today.”

Their second conversation, and already a lunch date? But as she’s reminded of what his voice sounds like, she quickly realizes that just the voice is not enough.

Still, she tries to sound casual and makes a non-committal noise.

“Better than being cooped up in my room all day.”

“Great! Where you wanna go?”

Margo shrugs as if he can see her on the other end.

“Wherever you wanna go.”

“Ah, the ‘wherever you wanna go’ paradox,” he chuckles. “Okay, well–lemme ask you this then. Do you like eating with or without music?”

There’s a beat of silence as she considers.

“Hm…is the music good?”

“I’d never subject anyone to a place that plays shit music. Promise.”

“Music, then.”

“Cool, what time works for you?”

“How does two sound? I’ll catch you in front of the Engineering Library.”

“Bet. See you in an hour, then!”

The place Miles chose had a live band playing at the front.

A bass player, a keyboard pianist, a saxophonist, and a few background vocalists on occasion. All are propelled forward by the rapid-fire snare of the drummer. It’s jazz - the easy, conversational kind you hear in the background of 90s romantic comedies where the love interest wears nothing but dark lip liner and filled-in brows with a bit of smokey eyeshadow in the crease.

This is the look that Margo has decided to go for as she sits across from Miles at a mahogany table positioned ideally by the window.

It was all she could do other than frantically adjust the braided 'fro-hawk sitting atop her head and spin around in a mist of ‘Champagne Toast’ before bolting out the door.

She doubts he can even smell it right now through the curry and garlic.

“Figured out what you want yet?” Miles asks as he looks over his menu at Margo.

“Eh, I dunno,” she replies, running her index finger down her own menu. “I’m tryin’ not to blow half my paycheck on pasta right now.”

Miles gives her a strange look, then it clicks.

“Oh! Lunch is on me,” he laughs. “Your bank account’s safe for now.”

Her head snaps up.

“You should’ve mentioned that! I thought we were going half and half this whole time, I had my whole budget for the week planned out.”

Margo has to hold back an ugly cackle at the look of horror on Miles’ face right after she says this.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that.”

With this new information in mind, she orders a bowl of chicken alfredo with a glass of lemonade that she sips on as the band seamlessly transitions into a cover of Solange’s ‘Cranes in the Sky’.

“So, Margo,” Miles rests his chin on his knuckles and squints his eyes comically.

“If that is your real name.”

Margo giggles, and plays along.

“It’s not, it’s my alter-ego for when I go on top-secret missions.”

“Is it short for something? Or just Margo?”

“Hm,” she puts on an affected, ‘action movie’ voice, “If I tell you, I might have to kill you.”

“It’s worse ways to die out there.”

Margo looks around her as if to make sure no one’s listening, then leans in.

“It’s short for Marguerite.”

Miles snaps his fingers.

“I knew it!”

“What? You think I look like a Marguerite? Seriously?”

“No, but you got a lil’ country twang in your voice. Ain’t no way in hell Margo wasn’t short for something.”

“Man, alright,” she laughed.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that,” he winked, “I like ‘em country.”

“Boy, don’t give me that! You look like you’d pass out at the sight of a jar of pig’s feet.”

“Hey now, I got family in South Carolina. I used to go down there and see about ten of those every summer.”

“Fine, but you were still raised a Northerner. I could hear the Brooklyn from a mile away.”

Miles removed his hand from under his chin to clutch his chest.

“Ugh, I feel like I’m caught between two worlds!”

The reference to one of the more choice lines from the poetry slam makes Margo snort and let out a loud guffaw, which she quickly muffles with the palm of her hand.

“Why would you remind me of that!”

Miles is soon infected by the fit of laughter and has to put all his strength into not doubling over at the table and drawing attention.

“This nigga said,” he wheezed, “ ‘I keep doing the Achy Breaky to Suavemente!’ “

“I thought I was the only one who thought that shit sucked,” Margo sighed as she wiped a tear from her eye. “But I didn’t wanna be mean ‘cuz I’m not like, half Puerto Rican, or anything like that.”

“Well I am, and that whole poem felt like a microaggression. And I knew that guy!” He starts gesturing wildly with his hands at the outrage, which Margo finds hilarious.

“He's like, one-eighth Boricua. His last name is fuckin’ Schwartz!” Miles scoffs, “He don’t know shit about no damn ‘Suavemente’. Bet he looked it up.”

“You should write your own poem, then. ‘Take up space’, as they say.”

“Hell no,” he said. “I left that behind in high school. The other night was an exception, remember?”

“Look, I’m not one to encourage more people to become poets, but you never know. Something might inspire you.”

Miles calms down and gives her a meaningful look.

“Maybe.”

The rest of the conversation saw Miles slyly gathering intel through bites of roasted chicken. He’d quickly learned from their meeting at the bar that his line of questioning with Margo ought to be less direct.

He even hit her with the ‘what’s your sign’ question, though Biggie would’ve advised against it (Margo was a Libra, he was a Leo). He didn’t actually care for astrology, but Margo wasted no time in proclaiming that she couldn’t stand Scorpios because they were ‘too nosy’.

Miles’ only error was asking if she’d ever dated–correction–spoken to one, and her eyes hardened with suspicion again. He quickly elected to change the subject.

“Okay, totally random question, but humor me. How do you like your eggs?”

Margo blinks twice.

“What?”

“You heard me. You can tell a lot about a person by what kinda eggs they like, true shit.”

“Alright, fine. I like ‘em fried, with the crispy edges. What that say about me?”

“I dunno, but when I find out it’ll all make sense.”

Margo laughs.

“Okay, well, how do you like your eggs?”

“Scrambled, fluffy,” A childish grin spread across Miles’ lips. “And seasoned with Adobo to make ‘em all orange.”

“Never had ‘em like that before.”

“Maybe I could make some for you sometime, if you’d let me.”

“Maybe.”

She remembers his promise a month later when she wakes up to the aroma of the seasoning and hears the pop of frying oil, letting out a sigh of relief at the realization that Miles is still there.

His back is facing her when she enters the kitchen, the morning light illuminating a tattoo she had never seen before.

It’s a spider with sprawling legs that cascade all the way down the expanse of skin, the movement of his shoulder blades bringing them partially to life. She hadn’t noticed it in the dark, and he was not one to walk around in anything revealing enough for it to have ever seen daylight. It’s faded, which means he’s likely had it for years.

He’s only twenty-one, she thinks. Did he get it in high school?

Amusement creeps onto Margo’s face at the image of Miles sneaking around the house, darting in and out of the bathroom to clean it without his hawk-eyed mother or straight-edged father taking notice. Picturing this, it’s suddenly much easier to believe that their son would have to beg and plead for them to send him a measly forty-six miles away for school, even for an Ivy League.

Miles doesn’t turn around yet, but Margo catches the way he stops, tilting his head playfully and placing a hand on his hip.

“Man, I can’t believe I’mma have to eat this whole thing of scrambled eggs all by myself, with the ones I just fried! How sad.” “You’re not very funny,” Margo says with a smile, pulling out a chair from beneath the dining table.

He switches the stove off, then does a dramatic spin to face her with fake surprise on his face.

“Oh! Where’d you come from? I didn’t see you there.”

He turns back around to grab two plates–ceramic ones, not the stack of styrofoam ones–from one of the cupboards to serve the eggs in, starting with fried.

Margo watches him silently. The tiny, squint-or-you-might-miss-it gold chain around his neck catches the light as he moves, and she remembers feeling the cold metal brush across her lips.

“The fried ones, are they–”

“Crispy at the edges?” he finishes, with a smile in his voice. “Yes ma’am!”

“You could really be a detective, can’t get nothing past you.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“See?”

The two burst into laughter, and the ink on Miles’ back does also. His poem was accurate, in a way. For the past five weeks, Margo has been no more than ten feet away from a spider.

They have a brief and quiet breakfast, wherein Margo finally asks to try the scrambled eggs and is delighted by the burst of flavor added by the Adobo. They aren’t too dry or too soggy the way they tend to be in restaurants - just fluffy, as promised. She thinks it might be time to finally start taking Miles at his word as she watches his back again while he’s washing dishes.

Once he is fully dressed and about to leave, Miles stops suddenly, as if he’s forgotten something. He reaches into the left pocket of his jacket and pulls out a neatly-folded sheet of paper, nervously running his other hand through the short dreads sitting atop his head.

“Before I leave, I, uh…I took your advice and wrote a lil’ something.”

He hands it to Margo, who takes it gingerly.

“Well, good for you.”

“It’s been a while, so it’s kinda rough, but hopefully the sentiment is there.”

Miles plants a quick kiss on her cheek, and she smiles easily for once as opposed to the usual raised eyebrow.

“I’ll be sure to let you know if it is.”

Some time after he leaves, she finally sits down to read it while sipping on a cup of tea, because coffee wreaks havoc on her nerves. His handwriting is strange, overly graphic as if it’s the title card of a cartoon, but she reads it.

I know you don't like poetry

but you said you liked mine,

and the way you sip your wine

has set my pen to paper,

so I hope

you'll make another exception.

You've already claimed

half of my sketchbook

because I just can't get your eyes right.

I always make ‘em too soft,

or too round.

They don't pierce through me,

like they did when

you stared at me over your glass,

eyes narrowed.

When you search my face

and pick me apart,

I'd like to know what it is

you're always searching for.

#miles morales fic #margo kess #flowerbyte #cybershock #cyberflower #atsv fic #atsv fanfiction #moralesanhour

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lostdreamr-blog1 · 6 months ago

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Outrun the Future G.Cleven Ch 3

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch4 Ch 5

Ch 3

A gentle shake had Marley nearly jumping out of bed. Betty was standing over her, robe wrapped around her body, trying her hardest to wake the pilot up without waking the others. “Captain Sutton just came by and told me to get you. Looks like ya’ll are headed out this morning.”

Marley let out a deep sigh and nodded her head. “Thanks, Betty. Sorry you were woken up so early.” She didn’t have to look at the clock to know it was before sunrise. Mission days always started the same and it was clear that a change of location wasn’t going to change that.

“It’s no problem.” She paused for a few seconds, trying to figure out the best way to say goodbye without actually saying it. “I better not see you in medical later. As much as a few of us would love to see your handsome brother around, something tells me he wouldn’t do well with you hurt.”

Marley chuckled as she got out of bed and gave her friend a hug. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

The base had a different feel to it this morning. Majority of the men and women were still asleep, not knowing the small group of fighter pilots were getting ready for a mission so soon after getting there. It made Marley feel on edge as she walked to the mess hall to try and eat whatever would stay down. Their base prior had a few different squadrons housed there, making go days loud and energetic from the moment feet hit the ground.

But with only ten of them here, the base stayed in a state of slumber while the group made peace with whatever God they prayed to.

Marley walked into the mess hall to find a handful of kitchen staff working and most of the pilots sitting at two tables next to each other while the rest stayed empty. Grabbing a plate of food, she sat next to Sparky, thanking him for the wakeup call. “Not a problem. Have any idea where we are flying today?”

She shook her head, “No idea. Can’t be too big if the 100th aren’t headed out.” While the P-51’s mainly provided air support for the bombers, they quickly realized that when the 100th wasn’t called out, the mission was typically a shorter one. Or at least they hoped.

The morning went by faster than any of them would’ve wished for and before too long, the planes were being fueled and preflight checks were under way. The sun had started peaking over the horizon, signaling the day was taking charge and soon the base would be buzzing with life.

Sparky walked up to her plane and watched as she finished her checks. “Are we just going to ignore the fact that your brother has no idea you’re flying today?”

Marley hummed in response as she ran her hand across one of the wings. “If I had told him, I would be getting a lecture right about now and another one when we get back. By not telling him, I have now reduced the amount of nagging to one sitting. Call it time management.”

Her friend shook his head but didn’t argue. He learned that when she had her mind set on something, there was nothing anyone could do to change it. “Be safe out there. I know it’s a short flight to France today, but you know things always seem to go bad on the easy ones.”

She gave him a small smile and told him to do the same. He gave her a small boost into her plane and tapped the side of it as he walked back up to his. The small group of ten was ready to take off all before anyone had left their bunks.

John Egan took pride in knowing what was going on at the base. His job title made sure of it. So, when he heard the sound of planes starting up at the ass crack of dawn, he sprinted out of bed. Standing outside in only his boxers, he watched as all ten P-51’s took off without hesitation. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be shocked, scared, or angry at the fact that his little sister just flew off on a mission without so much as batting an eye in his direction.

The door opened behind him, and Buck stepped out with at least more clothes on than his friend, extra jacket in his hands. “Might want to get dressed before the guys see you. You’ll never hear the end of it.”

Bucky took the jacket, not taking his eyes off the dots in the sky. “She didn’t tell me.” His words were quiet, but Buck heard them clearly. He had a feeling the younger Egan didn’t wake them up so they wouldn’t worry as much. But she didn’t realize how much that would piss off her brother.

He took a small step back when he saw Bucky shake his head. “If she makes it back in one piece, I’m going to make sure she’ll never fly again.”

“When. When she makes it back.” Buck tried to keep things positive, but he knew it was a lost cause in this moment. Because right now, it wasn’t Major Egan standing outside watching the planes get smaller. It was big brother Egan who didn’t get to say goodbye to his baby sister.

Bucky was on edge for the next few hours. Some of the guys tried to lighten the mood but nearly had their head chewed off by the Major. Soon, everyone but Buck had left him alone.

The two of them were sitting in the jeep, eyes in the direction the P-51’s left in. Neither of them had said a word for the past half hour, making Buck antsy. John Egan always had something to say no matter the situation. Most of the time you couldn’t get him to shut up long enough to get a word in. It was one of the reasons why the two of them worked well together. Buck was never one for the spotlight.

But with brunette silent, Buck felt like he needed to say something. “She’s going to be fine.”

Bucky shook his head, “First she didn’t tell me she followed me into this damn war and now she’s runnin’ off on missions without so much as a wave. I deserve better than that.”

He agreed with his friend, not liking the way things happened this morning. They all knew what could happen out there and robbing your family of one last goodbye is something that will haunt a man.

Conversation stopped as they both saw the first plane come into sight. Bucky got out of the jeep and counted each plane as he was able to see them, praying one of them held his sister.

His jaw clenched as he counted and counted again. “Am I blind or is that only seven planes?” Buck wished he could’ve corrected him, but he too counted three less than what should’ve been.

Each plane landed without issue and they both had to wait until the fighter pilots jumped down. The grounds crew rushed out to assess the damages, already trying to work on what needed to be fixed.

After what felt like ages, Bucky’s shoulders dropped with relief as he saw the familiar braid jump down from her plane. “Go easy on her.” Buck’s voice drew his attention.

“Like hell I am. She deserves everything I’m going to give her.” Bucky went to walk towards her when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned and saw his friend giving him a somber look. “Only seven planes came back.”

And it was like cold water had been thrown on him. Bucky was so wrapped up in his sister making it back, that he didn’t think of the pilots who didn’t. Three teammates were lost, and he didn’t know how close they might have been or if she saw it happen. While no one wanted to become a prisoner of war, it was still a chance of possibly surviving.

Now, instead of walking over there to chew her ass out, he needed to make sure his sister was okay.

As he got near her, he could see a faraway look in her eyes. It was like she was physically there, but her mind had escaped to some place dark. He took that moment to look her over, making sure there were no injuries. A quick glance at her plane showed bullet holes riddled throughout the structure.

Each piece of information he was learning had the grip on his heart tightening. Never would he have wished this life for his sister, but he knew he needed to learn to cope with it for both of their sakes.

“Come here, Mar.” His voice seemed to snap her back to reality, shocking her with how close he had gotten without her noticing.

Marley shook her head, tears already pooling in her eyes. “If I do that, I’m going to have a breakdown on this runway, and I really don’t want to ruin my mascara. I didn’t splurge and get the waterproof one.”

Bucky gave her a slight smirk, “When have you ever known me to listen?” He didn’t give her a chance to back away as he tightly embraced her.

And there the two Egan siblings stood. One, feeling like the world was crumbling around her. And the other, holding his entire world in his arms.

#gale cleven x reader #gale buck cleven #gale cleven #john bucky egan #john egan #bucky egan #mota #mota fanfic #chelsea writes

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razzafrazzle · 1 year ago

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SADIE im sorry to all of my besties who wanted her 2 keep her leather jacket..... i will make it up to you soon

[image description: a reference image for an original character named sadie zebub. sadie is a tall, light red-skinned demon woman with bent-back horns, a tail, and beady black eyes, and combed back dark purple hair that it greying on the sides. she is wearing a brown bomber jacket with a white tank top underneath and a few patches on it, mainly that of a trans flag and a leviathan cross. she is also wearing ripped, cuffed jeans with a carabiner attached to it, brown boots, black fingerless gloves, and dogtags. next to her are blurbs stating that she is 43, her pronouns are she/her, and that she is a lesbian trans woman. below that is another blurb that states the following: "queen of hell and mother of sparkle. big fan of dad jokes, classic punk rock, and women. the wisest big doofus you'll ever meet. been in love with her best friend moon for as long as she can remember." end id]

#women!!!!!!!!#doc talks #my art #my characters

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leathercollectionus · 2 years ago

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anmolsmsblog · 11 days ago

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bukkum · 1 month ago

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Best jacket for women

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#winter jacket for women #black bomber jacket womens #pink puffer jacket #best jacket for women

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praetoravila · 29 days ago

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mighta found the one (but i need you too)

happy birthday @myloveforhergoeson !!! i hope 23 treats you so well (my favourite old lady)! here’s a continuation of our wag au. love you so dearly ❤️

Bachelorette parties were a completely foreign concept to Olive. Sure, she had seen videos on ClipClop of rowdy girls in their twenties coming home after a bachelorette, giggling about getting shitfaced.

Or the opposite, women who stayed in with their friends and rewatched their favourite 90s romcom instead.

But that wasn’t a true depiction of a bachelorette. At least she figured as much.

Nonetheless, the Latina girl wasn’t sure what to expect when she pulled up to the nightclub that Roxy had sent her the address of.

Olive got out of her Uber, thanking the driver quickly before walking over to the line. A group of teen girls came up behind her, and as they giggled over their fake IDs, she hoped to God that she was going to enjoy herself.

Getting inside the club wasn’t hard, and as she looked around, she eventually found Roxy at the back in one of the sections.

The brunette had her hair pulled up into two low hanging pigtails, and she was wearing a white halter top dress and a silver bomber jacket.

“Olive!” She called out and Olive smiled as she made her way over and up the stairs.

“Hey.” She said, enveloping Roxy in a hug. The other girl smelled like roses. Roxy grinned as she pulled away, her pigtails swishing under the dim light of the club.

“I’m so glad that you came. We’re going to have so much fun tonight.”

Olive smiled back. “Definitely.” Roxy began introducing her to the other girls who were there. Jo Taylor, the actress from New Town High, that supernatural show that Wren had forced Olive to spend a summer binge watching, Lucy Stone, the rockstar and Stephanie King, who was a director and filmmaker.

They all chatted for a few minutes, Olive doing her best to get to know the girls. Lucy was working on a new album that was inspired by her move to Los Angeles in her teens, and Stephanie had a new horror movie in progress that was based on her own family history - apparently one of her great aunts had killed her husband back in the 1940s.

It was interesting listening to them. Olive loved her job as a youth counselor but sometimes she missed getting to have a true creative outlet. She hadn’t written poetry in years, but listening to the others, she wondered if maybe she should get back into it.

She probably could have spent forever ruminating on that, before Jo clapped her hands together.

“Alright in honour of our girl Roxy, we are going to hit this club like it’s never been hit before ladies. Shots on me!”

And with that, Olive was pulled out of her seat and down the stairs as the blonde marched over to the bartender.

“10 shots of the worst tequila you got for all of us.” She said with a sickenly sweet smile, her southern North Carolina accent played up.

Olive raised an eyebrow, as Jo spun back around to face her. The blonde had what could only be described as a game face on. “Ready to party?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

So apparently, Olive’s idea of partying was different from Roxy and her friends. Within 20 minutes of them guzzling down shots, Olive had found herself pulled onto the dance floor, Stephanie and Jo taking turns spinning her around and grinding against each other and her. Jo was a handsy drunk, and the glimmer in her eyes spoke of trouble.

Nothing Olive couldn’t handle but still. Besides, honestly she was getting a little bit dizzy.

As Where Them Girls At by David Guetta faded out, Olive brushed her hair off her shoulders, grateful that she had decided to wear a thinner cotton t-shirt. She could feel sweat dripping down her back and she grimaced. Her heart rate picked up. Olive could feel the tell tale signs of overstimulation starting to hit her.

She needed out of this room and she needed it now.

“You okay?” Stephanie asked over the music and people talking. Olive nodded. “I’m fine! Just need a moment to breathe outside. Excuse me.”

She slipped off the dance floor, and into the hallway where the bathrooms were. Without the loud music blasting directly in her ears, she felt less like she was going to keel over.

She pulled out her phone, checking the time. It was only 9PM. She’d only been in the club for forty minutes and she was already ready to go home.

How the hell did she use to do this for hours with Saylor, Elisa and Noah in college?

Shaking her head, she pulled up her and Logan’s text thread as a new notification popped up.

hey gorgeous. you having fun? i miss you

Olive snorted. Logan was clearly bored at home. She replied back swiftly.

yeah. taken three shots so far. already feeling dizzy. when did i become a lightweight?

Logan’s response made her laugh out loud.

whenever you became a homebody.

She replied with a middle finger and her phone began ringing a second later.

“Ello?”

“You want me to pick you up?” Logan asked, voice gruff from sleep. He was probably only awake because he wanted to check on her. Now that they weren’t in the playoffs, he was back to his regular job as a lab assistant, which meant his schedule was more regular.

Olive shook her head before remembering that her boyfriend couldn’t see her.

Her boyfriend’s voice instantly soothed her anxiety. Her stomach didn’t feel like it was going to explode anymore.

“Nah. I’m having fun. I’ll probably be home by midnight.” She said, twisting a loose strand of hair around her finger. Logan hummed.

“Want me to wait up?”

Olive paused for a second before responding. “Nah. Just leave the key under the mat. I didn’t bring my apartment keys with me.”

Logan snorted. “I told you to stop doing that.” He said teasingly, and Olive rolled her eyes at him.

“Yeah well, I didn’t want to leave them at the club like I did the last time I went out.”

Logan’s giggles were clear to her ears, even though the music from the club was still blasting. “Sure babe. I’ll see you in the morning. Love you.”

“Love you too.” Olive replied. The line disconnected after a second and she sighed, brushing her bangs off her forehead.

She steeled her shoulders back, before leaving the hallway and making her way to the bar. People were dancing, grinding against each other, and drinking with happy cheers.

Lucy was still chatting with the bartender, and the two of them gave Olive a quick glance and smile before falling back into their conversation.

Olive fiddled with a loose straw in a cup for a moment, zoning out before the feeling of someone’s clammy warm hands startled her. She turned around, ready to yell before she realized that it was Roxy.

“Sorry! Sorry!” The brunette said, cheeks flushed. “I forgot that you’re not a touchy person. I was going to ask if you’ll take some pictures of me to send to James?”

Olive raised an eyebrow. “What kind of pictures?” Honestly, she knew what Roxy meant, but making the other girl turn bright red in embarrassment was never not funny.

“Oh my god. I don’t mean,” Roxy cut herself off, looking around as if she was doing something wrong before continuing, “nudes. He said he wanted to see my outfit.”

Olive hummed under her breath, a smirk on her face. “I’m sure that’s all he wanted to see.”

Roxy smacked her shoulder and Olive feigned being hurt. Roxy rolled her eyes goodnaturedly, and Olive snickered under her breath, pulling the other girl along with her.

“Alright, Songbird. Let’s go take some pictures of you.”

Their impromptu photo session took them outside the club, the bouncer slipping red wristbands onto their wrists.

“Don’t take these off or you can’t come back in.” He grumbled and Roxy, ever cheerful, grinned at him.

“Will do, sir.”

The brunette girl grabbed Olive’s hand and dragged her into a nearby 24 hour convience store. The teenage girl at the front looked at them for half a second before going back to her phone.

“The lighting here is probably not much better than the club. But we’ll make do.” Roxy mumbled, as she handed Olive her phone.

Olive hummed as she swiped into Roxy’s camera, quickly adjusting the exposure to compensate for the harsh fluorescent lighting of the store. Roxy fiddled with her hair and the skirt of her dress.

“Do I look okay?” She asked. Olive looked at her, a genuine smile on her face. “You look great Rox. James isn’t going to know what hit him.”

Their mini photoshoot commenced after that, Roxy leaning against the blank wall in the store, and Olive taking shots of her from every angle possible.

Roxy grabbed a bag of O’Chippigans and used them as her prop, pretending that she had opened the bag and was eating them.

Olive snickered. Her friend was so silly sometimes. She got up from the floor, handing Roxy her phone so the taller brunette could look through her camera roll.

“These are perfect! Thanks Ollie.” Before she could say anything, she had an armful of Roxy. The other girl’s rose scented perfume enveloped her. Olive resisted the urge to take a deep breath in.

“You’re welcome. But we should probably get out of here before the girl at the front yells at us.” Roxy’s eyes widened as she looked over Olive’s shoulder at the teen girl who was probably staring at them.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

The club was still full of loud music and energetic people when they walked back into it. Stephanie waved them over when she saw them.

“Where the hell have you two been?” She asked, her midwestern accent slightly thicker from the alcohol. She sounded like Logan in the morning, Olive thought to herself before she replied.

“We did an impromptu photo shoot for the bride here.”

Stephanie snorted. “And you didn’t invite me?” She asked teasingly, and Roxy immediately began protesting.

“I tried looking for you and I couldn’t!”

Stephanie giggled, wrapping her arm around Roxy’s shoulder. “I know pipsqueak. It’s fine. You’ll make it up to me by letting me photograph the wedding.”

Roxy grinned at her. “Of course Steph. Who else would we hire?” She turned to Olive who was watching the interaction with a confused smile.

“On top of being a director extraordinaire, Stephanie is a wedding photographer in her free time. She photographed Kendall and Daisy’s wedding last year. It was gorgeous Ollie. I really wish you had been there.”

Olive raised an eyebrow at Stephanie, ignoring the way her stomach flipped at the reminder that her and Logan hadn’t been together last year. “Wow. A working woman huh?”

Stephanie grinned even wider.

“I like to keep busy. Besides, the hockey community is so small. And y'all have a lot of weddings in the off season.”

Stephanie pointed at Olive and Roxy. The latter blushed.

“Not my fault the only time everybody is free is after March.” Roxy grumbled, and Olive snorted. “Perks of dating a professional hockey player.”

Roxy’s face lit up at the reminder of her fiancé, and she began patting herself down like a crazy person. “Where’s my phone?” She asked and Olive laughed, pointing at the shorter girl’s small clutch bag.

“In there. Why? You missing James?” She teased and Roxy pouted. “Yeah.”

Jo popped back up, blonde hair now pulled back into a no nonsense ponytail. Her face was flushed, and she looked like she had just gone through a tornado.

“Guys. I need a break. Is it possible to die from dancing too hard?” She said, and they all laughed.

“I’ll stay on babysitting Jo duty.” Stephanie said, grabbing the blonde’s arm. Jo smiled at her, all dopely.

Olive laughed. She had missed this. The feeling of hanging out with people and feeling their energies and presence. She loved working with her kids and teenagers but it was different. She was the adult in the room. The one who had to be serious.

But here, this stupid LA club, she could be whoever she wanted to be. And right now, that meant dancing with her friends.

She grabbed Roxy’s hand, shaking the other brunette girl out of her thoughts. A song by the old 2010s boy band, Brand New Day, came on.

Olive grinned as the opening notes to Boyfriend started playing. “Come on! Dance with me!” She cried out and Roxy rolled her eyes before resting her bag and phone on the table where Stephanie was sitting.

Olive dragged Roxy to the dance floor. She wrapped her arms around the other girl’s neck just as the chorus hit.

“I heard that you're looking for a boyfriend! I see that, gimme time, you know I'm gonna be there!”

They screamed their lungs out as the music kept playing. Dancing together, bodies pressed against each other. At some point, Roxy’s hair ended up in Olive’s face, and she grinned as she pushed it out of the way, swaying the smaller girl side to side.

Yeah. This was the best night ever.

#oc; olive pasqualina #oc; roxy somerset #dyn; olive & roxy (that's my best friend)#btr oc #big time rush oc #*mine #*mine: fanfic #*mine: moodboard #ash tag #happy birthday ash!!!!!

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the12thnightproject · 11 months ago

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Hello sorry to bother please can I have 25 22 21 14 12 5 1 for Shingen ? Thank you I wish you a nice day 🙏🙏

Hi Queenguilietta!

It's no bother at all! Always happy to gush about Shingen.

And thank you - I hope you are having a nice day too!

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

Actually, my first impression of him was rather a non-impression. Ikemen Sengoku was my first Otome game, and all those characters coming at me in the prologue was a bit of a sensory overload and no one really made a big impression. I'd decided to download the game based on an in-app ad I'd clicked during a puzzle game I'd been playing, and it was Masamune in the ad that had gotten me to download the game. Masamune then, was my first route, and Shingen is barely in that one. From Masamune's route, I intended to go to Kenshin, but I played Kenshin in a story event while I was reading Masamune, and his possessiveness there was a turn-off, so I picked Sasuke next. Then I did Sasuke's route and found Shingen an entertaining side character and he won me over then.

My impression now is that I adore him. Brains, emotional intelligence, a sly sense of humor, a sense of responsibility, and the fact that he treats his love interest like a Goddess... he's a Renaissance man, and I love that about him.

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to ths character? Something you don't like?

Answered here.

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

Shingen is very smart, but he likes to hide that behind the flirting. It's fun to write him slyly flirting with, or even just joking with his scene partner, where you think the conversation is about one thing, and then he outsmarts everyone. One of my favorite fics I wrote with him, wasn't a romance at all - it was a one shot with him, Mitsuhide, and Motonari trying to scam each other out of the last bed at an inn in a storm (but in reality, all three were also spying on each other). When you put three of the sneakiest characters in one scene, it just increases the potential for smart mayhem. Of course... I also like writing scenes with him being sexy, because he likes to take his time.

Hm... I'm not a huge fan of writing angst (it's just difficult to hit that line between angst and maudlin), and his canon story is pretty tragic.

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

Ok... we'll go with a modern AU for this, because I do already like his color scheme in game. We know that in game, Shingen is not only a very busy spymaster, but he also is a hobby woodcrafter. So he is going to want something that will be comfortable and allow for ease of movement. He's also very confident in his attractiveness and uses his charisma to distract people from the fact that he's information gathering, so he's not above showing off his body. But he'll do it in a comfortable way. A dark knit shirt that just barely clings to his chest muscles. Not tight, but when he moves, you can see the outline of his body. Jeans or cargo pants. Less tight here - this man moves around a lot and doesn't want his clothing to cut into him. And because he's always going to be interested in the history of warcraft, he's got a vintage leather bomber jacket - lined to keep him warm in cooler weather.

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Answered here.

But also...ok, here is one. If he were stranded in a blizzard, and had to throw himself on the mercy of a family of poor farmers, he would be the best houseguest ever. He would not reveal his identity - he'd pretend to be a random traveler down on his luck. He would flirt with all the women in the household, from the elderly grannie to the six year old girl, and make all of them feel like a queen. He would chat with the men in the family and discover the state of that part of the country just from that part of the conversation. If they need repairs to the household, he would help out with carpentry. And he would eat two servings of dessert. Then weeks later, the family would discover a mysterious parcel of gifts for every member of the family.

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

"Where the Night Goes" by Josh Ritter.

I have no idea why this song makes me think of him. Less the lyrics and more just the vibe.

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

Well, we've already covered the intelligence and the emotional maturity, and the fact that he treats the people around him really well. So lets go also with his ability to take responsibility, and put his needs aside from the greater good. Granted sometimes he takes it too! far! and is too self-sacrificing to the point of risking his health. But he believes that the good of the people outweigh his need for revenge, and he's able to put aside personal feelings in lieu of doing what is best for the country. In other routes where he has a major role, he's always the one in the background, helping MC and her chosen love interest get their happy ending - although again, sometimes he goes too far. He'll step in and offer advice before it's asked for... he doesn't often let his friends figure things out on their own, if he realizes what the solution is before they do.

Ask game

#asked and answered #ikemen sengoku #shingen takeda #ikesen shingen #shingen world domination tour

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quills-of-freedom · 2 years ago

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Porco Galliard Relationship

Aesthetic, Vibe & Various

♏

🐺

🥪

🏈

🥋

🥊

👟

At the core, Porco is a pretty relaxed and fun loving guy. He just doesn’t really have the privilege to relax with everything going on. Including how hard he pushes himself on missions and in training.

But when he does have the time to chill, you’d better believe the first person on his list to see, is you.

Usually walks through your door without knocking, always with a small gift for you.

“Hey Babe–?! I’m home!” He’ll call in the hallway, even if you’re not yet living together.

A huge toothy grin will spread across his face. His chest will puff out in pride at the sight of you as he hands you the flowers or whatever other gift he’s picked up for you.

Ideal dates:

Porco doesn’t mind for the most part where the two of you go. As long as he’s with you.

He mostly has two moods - if you’re looking especially fine that day he will absolutely go somewhere busy and show you off on his arm. But if he catches eyes lingering on you, expect him to get a little territorial.

His other mood is he just wants to hide away with you, tuckering you both into a quiet bistro or bar on a side street or a walk in the park within the thick treeline.

Always has to touch you. Wether it be a brush of you hair or holding your hand, he just loves the feel of you against him.

Always makes sure he smells extra good before he sees you. Aftershave and cologne galore, but not too overpowering. More of a fresh, clean smell with a bit of spice.

Modern AU

Loves the competitiveness of sports. Rugby, soccer, hockey, basketball .. you name it he plays and watches it.

Man loves his food.

Always wears one of those chunky watches.

Gets a lot of attention from the ladies. But he doesn’t even give them a second glance when he has you. You’re the only one for him.

Too much attention from women actually makes him uncomfortable and he’ll be making a swift move for the exit.

Is popular with the men too.

Hightop sneakers and baseball shoes with letterman’s and bomber jackets and jeans.

Sleeps in soft jogger bottoms with no shirt. The outline of his cock is devine.

Loves to push himself and is always learning about something or going to sporting classes/events.

Nsfw:

Porco is actually pretty shy when it comes to romance. At first at least.

When you first have sex, he’s more than willing, but is a nervous wreck.

Will be super soft with you the first few times until he finds his footing and is more comfortable with you.

That’s when he’ll fuck you against walls, randomly bend you over sofas, throw you around and mark you up.

Loves the dirty talk.

Sit on his face and he’s wrapped around your little finger.

Kinks

Depending on his mood he has a service kink, where pleasuring you gets him off more than anything could ever possibly.

Loves to praise you but with a spice of dirty talk.

“Look how beautiful you are, squirming around on my cock.”

“That face is so pretty when it’s sucking my dick.”

“It’s the best being inside of you, lemme hear those pretty moans call out my name…”

When he reaches the point of no return - that being desperately in love with you, will develop a slight breeding kink. Not as strong as Reiners, but it’s still certainly present.

Loves to finger you and lock his digits clean. He can’t get enough of your taste.

PANTIES. Anything to do with them. Stealing yours, sniffing, stuffing and wrapping them around his cock as he jerks off. He thought of your bare pussy on the material sends him feral.

Aftercare

He gets pretty tired after sex and rolls off you, pulling you into an embrace. He’ll pepper you with kisses and have sweet pillow talk - but don’t expect him to carry you to the shower or make you food or anything.

Of course if you asked him, he still would, just not with as much enthusiasm as some others would.

Will make sure you stay hydrated, though.

Dates 9/10

Thoughtfulness 8/10

Affection 10/10

Sex 10/10

Aftercare 8/10

All in all, Porco is someone who would be amazing to be with.

I just wish he were real

#porco x you #porco imagines #porco x y/n #porco x reader #porco smut #attack on titan porco #aot #snk #snk x reader #snk x y/n #porco galliard

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sweetbillwriting · 11 months ago

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In Another Universe (Love Just Happens)

I'm Sorry - Part 5

Description: In another universe didn't Bill become an actor and Aurora Lou didn't get her record deal but as soulmates they meet also in this universe but have other struggles.

Setting: This story is set in a parallel universe to my story Love Just Happens about Bill Skarsgård and my original character Aurora Lou.

Characters: Bill and Aurora is the same characters but because they have other experiences are they a bit different from the original story.

Warnings: 18+, age difference, ageism, cheating, jealousy, talk about weight, sexism, mentions about sexual abuse.

Bill really tried to not look at Aurora. He pretended she wasn't there and gave the reading all his attention. He actually succeeded quite well even if he could hear her giggle sometimes. When he heard it, it spread like a warm feeling in his chest that was both pleasant and painful. He didn't know how he could control himself for three days but he succeeded and if someone had noticed him staring at Aurora the first day it was forgotten now because he was his normal professional self.

“We want to thank you for these days and we will see each other in a month. I guess Bill will be even thinner then and Aurora even more beautiful,” said the showrunner Frank, another one that Bill had talked to, and gave them both a smirk. Bill gave him a small smile while he heard Aurora giggle. He wondered what she thought about the fact that her looks always came up as a subject, it had happened several times and he had noticed some of the cast had reacted too. Another thing everyone also had reacted to was that Aurora's acting skills were mediocre, to be kind. None of the actors gave their all, it was just a reading, but she didn't even seem to know where in the line the emphasis should be. Everyone probably thought it, she was just there as the pretty face.

“But Aurora, you had something to say,” continued Frank and all eyes suddenly were on her. She smiled and stood up. She looked a bit nervous but tried to hide it by putting her hands on her hips.

“Well, if you are still in New York tomorrow I have arranged a night for us at this club I worked at. Everything is already paid for and it will just be a fun time!” She said, like she was the best kind of seller. She wore a short beige plaid skirt, a black crop top and the lace adorned stockings she used to wear.

“A burlesque club,” said the showrunner that always sexualized her and wiggled his brows. Aurora smiled sweetly. Bill strained to smile because he knew he couldn't go, it wouldn't be right. He looked at the other actors and saw some think it was fun but others looked uncomfortable.

“You don't need to come, I will not take offense,” said Aurora with a smile but Bill could see so well that she would take offense. He could still read her but also knew how sensitive she was. Several people started to say they would come, mostly the guys.

“Me too,” he heard himself say with a smile. Aurora looked at him with an unreadable expression but she looked at him straight in the eyes. Bill regretted at once he had said it but he also wanted to be a part of it, especially when he heard even the women say they would come. Most of the production and the cast would be there.

Aurora smiled relieved while looking at them all.

“Nine o’clock, I’ll send the address to you all and then all that’s left is to show up.”

×××

Bill stood and waited at the car that would pick him up while playing with his phone. He had just said goodbye to two of the producers. He pulled his bomber jacket closer to his body. It was the end of August but it had already started to get colder. He looked at political articles, American, Swedish, shifting fast between them so his inner monologue was a mix between the two languages. He jerked when suddenly a motorcycle hummed to his left. Curiously he looked up and saw the red sporty motorcycle. He gave it a long look until he realized it was Miles sitting on it with Aurora standing next to him. He looked away quickly. He shouldn't look at them, he didn't care, even if he thought the bike was quite ugly. If he had one… If he could drive one, he would have had something more classic, maybe a cruiser model. Easy Rider style. He heard Aurora's giggle again and lowered his eyes down to the ground. Couldn't the car just come?

He stood with his head low for a while but looked up when the motorcycle drove away. He took a deep breath relieved. He knew he must get used to having her around but right then and there it was still so new. He looked around, searching for the car but instead he saw beige plaid. Aurora's skirt. She wore just a white cardigan over her outfit and it looked cold. That feeling of protectiveness he had always felt by being with her woke up again like it had just been asleep in his chest. He looked at her checking her lipstick in the phone camera. He had his moment now. Carefully he started to walk towards her but on purpose he dragged his feet a bit when he came closer so she would hear him and not get startled by his presence. She looked up at him but looked away fast with pursed lips.

“Hey…” he said nervously and dragged his sweaty hands over his hips. He waited for an answer for a few seconds but when it had been silent a bit too long he understood she wouldn't give him anything.

“Emm… It's nice to see you. Have you cut your hair?” He dragged a hand over his face. He sounded stupid as hell. He broke her heart and here he started with talking about her hair. He took a deep breath and took a step to the side so he could see the profile of her face.

“Lou… I'm so sorry… What I did to you… It was-”

“Shut up.”

Aurora turned to him and looked up at him with a hard look. Even if she was so short, Bill felt instant respect.

“Don't start with that bullshit again. Don't come to me here and try to be some fucking good guy.”

Aurora looked away again and Bill dragged his hand awkwardly over his neck. He hadn't thought she would be happy but he wasn't prepared for the anger either.

“Okay… Ehh… Ehh… We must make this work somehow…”

Aurora was quiet and crossed her arms. He could see she was cold with her way of standing with her shoulders pulled up to her ears.

“We will work together, have scenes together. Make it seem like we like each other…” Bill continued. He watched her in silence until he heard a car. It was his ride and he sighed. It was nice to be able to flee but he needed to talk to her. He gave a little wave to the car but then looked at the empty parking lot. They were alone, he couldn't just leave her there alone.

“Do you have a ride?” He asked her thoughtfully. This was the first thing he said she reacted in a different way to. She looked around a little and played with her nails nervously.

“My friend should come, but he hasn't answered for a while…”

Bill nodded a little and tried to wave away the thought of what gender she had said.

“Are you going into the city?” He gave his car a look just so the driver should wait. Aurora looked at Bill now but then looked down.

“Yeah…”

“You can go with me if you want? I’ll just drop you off where you want.. Nothing else. We don't need to talk or anything…”

Aurora looked up at his kind eyes and sighed deeply. It was obvious she wanted to be angry and keep distance but didn't want to be alone either. She nodded a little and together they walked to the car.

They sat in silence together in the backseat. Aurora looked out of the window while Bill looked down at his sneakers.

“Will you come tomorrow?” She suddenly said and Bill looked up at her.

“Emm… I don't need to?” He said and looked down in his lap.

“It's okay… You should be there. As the lead and all…”

Bill looked at her and finally got to look into her Bambi eyes. He felt his heart beat hard and he smiled a little.

“Thanks…”

The driver drove up to her hotel and Bill gave it a look.

“You don't live in New York anymore?”

She shook her head while taking off her seatbelt.

“I moved home to L.A. again.”

Bill nodded but could feel hundreds of questions push around in his throat. He couldn't ask her but the curiosity really wanted to take over, but also have an excuse to keep her by his side.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said with a strained smile and walked out from the car. She closed the door before Bill had the chance to answer.

He sat with his mouth open, looking at her go towards the entrance of the hotel. The short skirts movement and the shine of her dark hair. He made a sound of frustration and threw his head back.

“Your ex?” Said the driver and looked back at him amused in the rearview mirror. Bill looked back at him with furrowed brows and nodded a little as a reflex. He couldn't at all understand how the driver could know that.

×××

A burlesque show was much more than sexy dancing, all sorts of performers stood on the stage but with costumes and arrangements with vintage aesthetics. The group from the series were 26 people that sat around several round tables in deep red velvet chairs. Bill looked around at everyone enjoying the night Aurora fixed for them. They had probably not believed it would be so fun and liberating to see girls taking off their clothes. Or some were probably prepared for it being the night of a lifetime.

Bill wasn't surprised Aurora had succeeded to fix a magical night full of decadence and playfulness. While he talked with one of his co-stars, a woman his own age, about her background as a stunt double the audience started to scream.

“Lou! Get that ass up on stage!”

“Lou!”

All eyes were suddenly on Aurora. She sat with Miles and Dan, the man playing her father. Her hair laid in perfect ‘40s waves and was dressed in a black corset dress with a short voluminous skirt.

A man jumped up on stage. Bill recognized him as the bartender from the last time he was there but now the man was without a shirt and showed off his many old school tattoos.

“Aurora?” He said in the mic and waved with his hand towards her. “You owe me this!”

Everyone around the table looked at her and the showrunner Frank began to applaud and shout with the other men.

“No! I'm here with my colleagues!” She shouted back to the tattooed guy. Bill looked at her curiously. He could see that she didn't want to do it but was probably prepared for it to happen.

“Come on, Lou!” Said Frank and got some of the other men to start to cheer too. Aurora rolled her eyes jokingly but walked up on stage.

“You know, she didn't audition for her role…” whispered the guy next to him. His name was Tucker and he would play a cop. The woman next to Bill, Nathalie, leaned forward to hear what Tucker said.

“Really? I don't think any of us are surprised… She seems to be new with acting…”

Bill swallowed hard. He sat in the middle so he couldn't pretend like he didn't hear.

“Frank really likes her if you get what I mean… I checked up what she has done before and she has just been in like music videos and been a background singer…”

Bill wanted to say something because what Tucker accused her of she would never do. He felt his ears heat from anger. She had such awful experiences but got accused of such things just by getting some attention.

The music started and Aurora began to sing a pop song arranged into a jazzier tune. Everyone became quiet, her talent did that to people and Bill noticed he even held his breath. She danced sexily but in a more modest way than she had done when she worked there. Bill looked at her hypnotized. He just saw her and forgot about everything else. Her smiles and flirty ways made him remember all the playful moments with her. Her doe eyed looks made him remember all intimate conversations and her voice gave him the warm feeling in his chest only she could give him. He was still in love with her. He missed everything with her, her kindness, her calmness, her optimism, her fire.

When the song had ended and she walked off from the scene he looked between her and his wedding rings. They were a bit loose because he had started to diet for the role. They were easy to take off and he often chose to not wear them because he felt he would drop them.

Everyone praised Aurora and she smiled a bit embarrassed. Bill just smiled towards her. Their eyes met for a few seconds and he smiled bigger.

It didn't matter if she wanted him or not, like he had thought before. His feelings weren't right to have when he was married to another woman and made the decision while looking at Aurora playing with her pearl choker. He would start the process to divorce from his wife when he came back to Sweden. It was bad timing but he had kept up the charade way too long.

×××

New York’s nightlife had woken up and people walked past Bill on their way to crowded clubs. He took a smoke with the director but also two other men who had been sitting next to them. It was nice coming out, for fresh air he often said, but he mostly thought it was easier socialwise to talk over a smoke than sitting in a club.

They talked about the president, the political climate in Sweden but also the club. One of the other men had worked there a few years back as a security guard and had nostalgic feelings for the place.

“And there is this place’s only real superstar, Lou!” He shouted when she came up from the stairs from the club.

“Johnny!” She screamed and threw herself around his neck with a bright smile. Bill could see she was intoxicated. Johnny lifted her up in his arms but put her down when the hug was over. Bill had looked down at the ground awkwardly but realized when he looked up that Miles was with her and got help to light his cigarette by their director.

“Do you want one?” Asked Johnny and reached out his cigarette pack towards Aurora.

“No, no. But thank you,” she said in a flirtatious way that made Johnny and the other guys smirk while Bill took a deep drag on his cigarette.

“You were great up there,” said Johnny to her and laid an arm around her waist and the other agreed. Bill smiled but looked down at the ground.

“Thank you, but it feels like I interrupted something, you can continue,” she said and smiled a bit awkwardly. All of the men made sounds like they weren’t talking about anything special and Aurora looked a bit uncomfortable. Bill looked up at her and realized she probably thought they didn't want to share it with her but in reality they had all forgotten what they talked about when such a beautiful woman stood with them.

“How are you, Bill?” He heard her say while he stood in deep thoughts.

“Hm?” He looked at her and could feel his mouth get dry and the butterflies in his stomach break free from their cocoons.

“Are you okay?” She asked kindly but he could see that she was intoxicated by her eyes but also in the way she moved her shoulders. The other looked at them interested, especially because Bill was the only one with rings on his finger. The director looked at him with big eyes and a playful smile. It was obvious the showrunner had told him about his and Aurora's history.

“I'm good… How are you?”

“I'm fine… Did you like my performance?” She asked with a giggle. Bill smirked a little and got lost in her big eyes. He was also a bit intoxicated and his eyes started to greedily take her in.

“You were amazing…”

Aurora giggled and dragged her fingers over her collarbone. The others had seen it as some sort of entertainment but then the director had signaled them all to move away so Bill and Aurora could be alone. The two of them didn't really see a difference because they were already so lost in each other that for them, there wasn't anyone around. Bill leaned against the brick wall while continuing to look at her and he could see she did everything to be attractive in his eyes. She played with her hair, pouted her lips and moved sensually. Bill just gave her his hooded gaze with a teasing smile. He laid his hand on her waist and pulled her closer to his body. She pushed him away but with a smile so Bill believed she just wanted to tease. He didn't think longer than that, even if the gold from his rings shone from the streetlights.

“I know you want me…” said Aurora teasingly and Bill licked his lips, preparing them for kisses. “But you even have your rings on. You will never ever come close to me again….” She said but with the same teasing smile. Bill smiled back at first, not really understanding what she said but also because the blood from his brain had started to travel to his groin. When he registered what she said, and understood, his smile dropped fast.

“Lou…” his hands hugged her waist but she just put her finger over his lips. She knew so well what power she had over him and used it well. She let her finger drag down from his lips to his chest and moved sensually from side to side in his hands. He took his chance to touch her waist and hips and she let him but after a while she took a hold of his hands and looked up at him again.

“This filming will be a hell for you. Because, maybe you never loved me… But this…” she dragged a finger over the imprint from his erection, “I reaaally have power over. You're just like any other man after all,” she said and then let him go. Bill looked down at her with a beating heart. He couldn't even say what he was feeling because he hadn't expected this at all. She continued to stand just in front of him, checking her lipstick in her phone camera and corrected her tits in the corset bodice. Bill was horny, he wanted to push his cock against her and play with her tits but her words said no so sharply. She would never forgive him.

“I'm sorry…” he said again desperately. He sounded pathetic and several people around them could hear him grovel.

I'm sorry Lou…” she looked up at him from her phone and smiled condescendingly. Bill looked at her face closely. He could see the hurt feelings in her eyes, how her lips moved by holding her emotion in check.

“That's sweet of you but I don't see any reason to forgive you,” she said and gave his rings a glance. Bill nodded a little and swallowed dryly. It wasn't like she didn't have reason to feel that way. She shook her head to herself when Bill stood quiet.

“You never even answered my texts… You just disappeared to Sweden…” she whispered so no one else would hear and looked at him with glossy eyes. Bill furrowed his brows in confusion.

“What texts?”

Aurora laughed unamused.

“I really didn't think you were this ignorant… Such an asshole…” She moved away from him and to everyone's surprise she just walked away from the club on high heels and left them all there, even if it was her night. Bill looked after her with big eyes. His heart was still beating hard in his chest but now in the rhythm of anxiety. He was an asshole. Just the biggest asshole. What texts did she talk about? He didn't believe he had forgotten anything of their break up, all of it felt like it was carved into his intestines.

People surrounding him looked at him but everyone with different faces. Shock, curiosity, amusement but also distaste. Everyone seemed to have heard them and soon everyone connected to the series would know that he had an affair with Aurora and broke her heart. He closed his eyes for a few seconds before going down the stairs to get his jacket. This was a catastrophe and it didn't feel like he could save this. He should have just kept that proposal he gave Aurora their first night, he should have just married her at once, then this mess never would have happened.

#bill skarsgård #fan fiction #bill skarsgard #writing #bill skarsgård writing #story #bill skarsgård fanfiction #fiction

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