#bold red lip regardless

[blue-disco-lights]

Pic Crew Time 🧡

Thank you to the wonderful @deedala @creepkinginc @heymrspatel @mikhailoisbaby @palepinkgoat @stocious @mybrainismelted @skylerwinchester for tagging me in this pic crew

I’m very serious here, I imagine because my contacts were feeling scratchy and the wind was picking up - so made it a glasses, beanie and sensible cardigan kind of day 🍂

Tagging in the also wonderful @energievie @m4ndysk4nkovich @sweetbee78 @gallawitchxx @crossmydna @depressedstressedlemonzest @too-schoolforcool @michellemisfit @sickness-health-all-that-shit @darlingian @look-i-love-u @ian-galagher @francesrose3 @vintagelacerosette @mickeysgaymom @suzy-queued @guinguin1984 @gillyp @jrooc @golden28s @callivich @lupeloto @auds-and-evens @mmmichyyy @tanktopgallavich @lingy910y if you’d like to try 🧡

[ghostedgwen]

hiii how are you doing ^^?

I love your writing style so much and I was wondering if I could request a James x deaf!reader where they have a very bad first encounter as first years (because James is James and because he didn’t realize reader was deaf at first), and reader has protective friends who won’t let James get near reader anymore, which makes James more determined to get to know reader and befriend them? Alternatively you can obviously write the story however you like, angst is very appreciated!!

Thank you regardless!

patch your broken wings | j.potter

note : I love this request, I have been well and just celebrated mother's day yesterday! Hope you are well too! Thank you for reading my other fics, and for the kind words about my writing! I hope I did this request some justice, thanks for the creative liberty as well and FOR ANGST YESS! I love angst! I hope you enjoy <33 given how neutral "reader" was described in this request, this will be a general reader fic with 4.4k words

warnings : hufflepuff reader, also made the gender as neutral as possible so if I missed anything then pls lmk! reader is Deaf, James is clueless and kinda stupid, sprinkle of bullying, ableism, sorry fellow slytherins we're the villains again

Your parents were unsure about sending you to Hogwarts. Ever since you were a kid, you had known that you were different from kids your age, they had something you didn't.

But you had never felt lesser than them with the love your parents gave to fill any empty space that could ever break into the surface like a crack on polished marble.

So when your letter came, they were scared.

They did so well raising you with so much love and care, and it scared them to think of how the world outside their arms would treat you. How a world who did not have people like you often would react to your existence.

But they relented once Dumbledore paid them a visit and eased their worries. He has offered to do research on the matter, to offer any help he possibly could give you.

There was no cure, there is no curing you because you were born with it and if you would be honest, you didn't feel broken at all. Having been born Deaf, you never felt lacking.

That word was reserved for people who had something to begin with, and you didn't lack it at all. So you assured them you would be fine.

The world outside your home might not be as understanding, but it's a world you had to enter nonetheless, and no amount of keeping you safe could ever truly keep you inside.

Now, a first year - you look at the train, blinking in amusement at the bold red colour while the people around were bustling. You turned around when you felt a tap on your shoulder, you turned to see your parents teary-eyed looking down at you.

You Mum signed, "I am going to miss you, hunny," her tears almost fell then, "you be good and write often, okay?"

You give them a firm nod, not allowing tears to come. You had to show them that you were brave, that you were fine and you were going to be okay.

After that, they watched you board the train and watched it leave. Off you go exploring the outside world beyond the walls they built for you, and they can't do anything but spectate.

You stepped into the train, nerves curling up in your stomach like smoke from a blown-out candle. It was loud inside - visually loud. Limbs and trunks and owls in cages, older students walking past in packs like they owned the whole place.

You hovered in the corridor for a second, unsure where to go.

You lingered near a compartment, scanning for an empty seat, nerves coiled tight in your gut.

Someone inside noticed you. A tall, freckled girl with a thick braid knocked twice on the glass and gave a friendly wave, beckoning you in.

You slid the door open, unsure how to explain, unsure if they'd mind but it beats sitting alone for the entire ride to your new life.

“Hey, you can sit here!” said the freckled girl.

You blinked, eyes flicking from her lips to her expression. She repeated it, Hey, you can sit here!, slower this time.

You nodded, grateful, and took the seat beside her.

There were two others already inside. One of them had wild hair and was digging through a pack of sweets. The other was curled up with a book and a pair of round glasses slipping down their nose.

The freckled girl leaned closer, speaking again, her lips moving fast.

You furrowed your brow. “Sorry,” you said carefully. “I’m Deaf.” you had hoped your voice didn't sound too strained and they were able to understand - you didn't try to speak much or at all.

She paused.

Then, slowly, and clumsily, she lifted her hands and signed: “You. Deaf?”

You blinked, surprised to read her hands.

“Yes,” you signed back, and then cautiously: “You know sign?”

She grinned sheepishly. “Little bit.” She fumbled the words, but her excitement was obvious. “Grandma lost hearing. I learn. . . still bad.”

“You’re not bad.” You smiled, stunned by the kindness. “Thank you.”

“Emma,” she added aloud, pointing to herself and also spelled it out with her hand, you smiled at that.

“Kip,” said the one with the sweets, throwing a jelly slug in their mouth. “And the library over there is Molly.”

Molly didn’t look up but gave a friendly wave.

The train rattled on toward Hogwarts, and as the countryside blurred by outside, Emma became your bridge with the other kids. When Kip said something, she translated. When Molly offered you a chocolate frog, Emma made sure you knew it wasn’t poisoned (probably). Every minute, you relaxed a little more.

By the time the train came to a halt, you felt a little less like you were stepping into a battlefield and more like you were stepping into something you might survive after all.

You stood with the rest of the first years near the front of the room, neck craning back to take it all in.

Your parents had told you all about it but it paled in comparison to the real thing - the floating candles, the vast ceiling and the esteemed Professor Dumbledore stood there so proud and tall.

Emma nudged you and pointed upward, “Look!”, and you gave a soft laugh, letting yourself be distracted.

You didn’t notice the boy walking up to you until he was already speaking.

“Hi!”

You didn’t hear it, you kept watching the enchanted ceiling in awe.

He stepped closer, waving. “Hi!” he said again, louder this time, a little too sure of himself.

You didn’t turn, barely feeling his presence from how distracted you were - your friends were chatting amongst themselves to notice him as well.

To him, it must have looked like you’d seen him and dismissed him entirely. Barely paying him any attention he didn't deserve.

James Potter frowned, shoulders squaring defensively. “Alright, then,” he muttered. “Bit rude.”

You still hadn’t looked. But Emma had, only catching the last bit he said.

She turned her head sharply just in time to catch his expression - the flash of wounded pride giving way to scorn. Her jaw tightened.

“Problem?” she asked sharply.

James blinked. “No. Just said hi.”

“Okay." Was all she said, dismissing him. James frowned and turned to Sirius who was watching the whole interaction.

"Whad'ya think that was all about?" James asked him and he shrugged.

"Must be future dark wizards in the making, already so stuck-up," Sirius rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "I know the lot."

Second-Year.

It started with a bang, a rain of glitter and then a chorus of screams from fellow students.

And suddenly the whole courtyard was flooded with enchanted snow that didn’t melt, and every person within twenty feet had sprouted neon-blue hair.

You blinked in stunned silence as a goldfish swam lazily past your head - through the air, no water required, like the weirdest dream come to reality.

You turned in a slow circle, watching the chaos bloom.

Kip had his arms raised in surrender, laughing loudly as his robes billowed with sparkles. Emma was glaring daggers across the yard, muttering something vicious you couldn’t lip-read fast enough.

And you?

You were laughing. Hard.

Snowflakes caught in your lashes as you ducked a flying toad (you hoped it was a toad), your chest heaving with silent joy. You hadn’t expected it at all but it was so funny to you.

Emma came up beside you, brushing flakes off your shoulders with a tight-lipped expression.

“Are you okay?” she signed, clearly trying not to scowl.

“That was amazing,” you signed back, still grinning.

She rolled her eyes. “That was them. The Marauders, again.”

Kip shrugged beside her, tossing a jelly bean in his mouth. “Honestly? Bit iconic.”

Molly didn’t look up from her book, even with glitter settling into her hair. Nothing could tear her attention away from those pages, she was married to her books.

Emma shook her head, arms crossed. “Trouble. All four of them.”

You weren’t so sure.

From across the courtyard, one of them 0 dark messy hair, glasses slightly askew - caught your eye before Sirius shoved him hard in the shoulder, both of them laughing like they'd never been in trouble a day in their lives.

You smiled, just a little.

Third-Year.

“Potter and…” Professor Slughorn squinted at his parchment. “Yes, Potter and ____, you’ll be together today. Cauldrons out, everyone!”

You froze halfway through reading the book instructions for the Shrinking Solutions.

James Potter - loud, glitter-happy James Potter was now standing beside you, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth.

“Alright, then,” he said. “Lucky you.”

You gave him a shy smile and nodded.

He took it as encouragement. “I’m not saying I’m great at potions, but I’m not terrible. Probably.”

You smiled again, a little smaller. You were unsure how to approach him, you admit you developed a little crush after that prank last year.

“Err. . . did you like the snowfish prank last year?” he asked, eyebrows wiggling playfully as he tossed a dried root toward your side of the table.

You caught it midair, smiling wider, but still didn’t speak. You couldn't tell him you loved it.

James hesitated. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

Across the room, Emma was watching.

Her eyes were sharp, unreadable. Her fingers twitched like she was seconds from marching across the class and dragging you away. Remus who was assigned as her partner could only watch in amusement.

James followed your gaze briefly, then glanced back at you, confusion brewing.

You were fiddling with your stirring stick, too flustered to sign, unsure if he’d even understand.

He leaned closer, voice still friendly. “I mean, that’s cool, if you’re just shy. Sirius says I talk enough for three people.”

You gave a small shrug.

James flopped backwards onto his bed like gravity had betrayed him.

“I think I’m cursed,” he groaned, arm thrown over his eyes.

Sirius, halfway through braiding exploding snap cards into his hair for reasons no one dared ask, didn’t look up. “You’re cursed because . . .what? Slughorn paired you with a quiet person?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know, it’s not just that.”

Peter popped his head out from behind his bed curtains. “Did they mess up the potion or something?”

“No! The potion was fine. It was me. I was awful. Embarrassing, really, I kept talking and they just looked at me. Smiled, like they were being polite while I absolutely embarrassed myself.”

Remus looked up from his book, already sighing. “So, business as usual.”

James groaned louder. “No, Moony, listen. I was trying to be nice! Charming, even! I said like, three whole jokes. And nothing! Just -tiny smiles. It was like talking to a wall. A very attractive wall, but a wall nonetheless.”

Peter snortedat his words, unexpectedly. Remus stared at him for a second. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

James peeked out from under his arm. “Get what?”

Remus shut his book with a soft thud. “They’re Deaf, James.”

There was a pause.

“. . .what?”

“____. They’re Deaf.”

James sat up so fast he knocked a pillow to the floor.

“They’re what?”

“Deaf,” Remus repeated calmly, folding his hands in his lap. “As in, they can’t hear you.”

“No - no, that can’t be right. I would’ve - someone should’ve - ” He looked around like the truth might be hiding in the bedposts. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Remus arched an eyebrow. “You ever ask?”

James stared at him. “No!”

“There’s your answer, then,” Sirius said, flicking a card at him. It exploded harmlessly near his foot.

“I was just - I was making conversation. I thought they were just shy!” James buried his face in both hands. “I said a joke about armadillo bile, Remus, and they smiled. They smiled like it was funny.”

“Well, maybe it was,” Remus said, deadpan. “Unlikely, but maybe.”

James groaned again, flopping backward. “Oh my God, they probably think I’m a prat.”

“They probably didn’t think much of it at all,” Remus said. “You didn’t know. Just don’t be a git now that you do.”

James peeked through his fingers. “How do you even know?”

Remus leaned back. “I read. I observe. Emma Hopkins, the other Hufflepuff signs with them all the time. It’s not exactly a secret.”

James stared at the ceiling, a quiet, guilty sort of energy settling over him. “I’m such an idiot.”

“No arguments here,” Sirius muttered, smirking at his dramatic antics.

James ignored him. “I want to fix it.”

Remus snorted. “You just learned about it five minutes ago, besides you didn't break anything.”

“I know,” James said. “But I was so weird today. If they thought I was just annoying and pushy - and they couldn’t even tell me to shut up, Merlin, that’s awful.”

He sat up again, something determined growing in his eyes. “I’m going to learn sign.”

Remus blinked. “Now?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t even do your Divination homework.”

“This is different.” James stood like a man with a mission. “I’ve got to make it up to them.”

“You could also just. . .not,” Sirius offered lazily. “People exist without being your friends, you know.”

But James wasn’t listening. He was already digging through his trunk.

Peter watched him, baffled. “Do you even know how to start?”

“No,” James said cheerfully. “But I’ll figure it out. Can’t be harder than Quidditch.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but he was smiling a little.

James may have missed the point at first - but now that he knew?

He wasn’t going to stop trying. Because what is James Potter if not determined to figure out a way to get his crush to like him back?

James lingered after class. You had already left with Emma, her hand gently on your back as she guided you down the corridor, her hands moving in quick, practiced signs.

James stood in the doorway, watching your silhouette retreat, guilt curling like smoke in his chest.

Remus fell into step beside him, a quiet presence as always. Sirius, on the other hand, jabbed James in the ribs with a smirk.

“She’s not going to bite you,” Sirius said, tilting his chin toward Emma, who had just glanced over her shoulder with narrowed eyes.

“No,” James muttered. “But she might try to hex me.”

Before he could start walking, Emma doubled back, her robes swishing around her ankles as she blocked his path.

James blinked. “Err - hi?”

Emma crossed her arms. “Look, I don’t know what this is.”

“What what is?”

“This sudden interest,” she said coolly. “I remember you back in first-year.”

James shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t know. I didn’t realize - ”

“I know you didn’t,” she said, and her voice wasn’t cruel, just careful. “But it’s not about that.”

He frowned. “Then what is it about?”

Emma glanced past him to where the rest of the Marauders were waiting. “You and your friends pull stunts that leave half the school coughing up glitter or dodging enchanted dungbombs. You cause chaos for fun. And maybe that’s fine for you. But not everyone wants to be caught in the splash zone.”

James looked confused. “We’ve never pranked them.”

“That’s not the point,” she snapped, then took a breath and softened, just a touch. “You don't mean harm, Potter. I know that. But harm doesn’t always come from bad intentions.”

James opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out.

Emma’s gaze held steady. “They don’t need to be dragged into one of your harebrained adventures. They’ve got enough to handle without dodging slytherins or getting swept into another ‘legendary’ Marauder mess.”

“I wasn’t - ” he tried, helplessly, “I just wanted to talk.”

Emma gave a faint sigh. “That's up to them if they want to talk to you. But please remember, leave them out of your mess.”

And with that, she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

James stood still for a long minute. He hadn’t been trying to drag anyone into anything. He just . . .wanted to talk to you.

But maybe Emma was right. Maybe his world - the loud, laughing, explosive one - wasn’t safe for someone like you.

Still, he couldn't shake the look on your face when you smiled at him earlier.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about what it would mean to be someone safe for you, instead.

Fourth-Year.

The Great Hall was buzzing with the usual chaos - floating candles, gleaming plates, and the low hum of returning students catching up after summer. The Sorting Hat had finished its song, and plates were filling themselves like magic (because, well, it was.).

At the Hufflepuff table, you were smiling at something Kip signed (Emma has been teaching them the basics) while Emma inspected a suspicious-looking pudding. You didn’t notice the Gryffindor boy striding confidently across the hall until he stopped right in front of you.

James Potter. He smiled, maybe a little nervously, and then -

He signed : “Hi. How was your summer?”

The room didn’t go silent. But your table did, or the ones who saw at least.

Your eyes widened. You blinked once. then again, trying to register if you saw that right and it appears you did.

Emma froze mid-bite, fork halfway to her mouth.

You stared at James for a beat too long. Then slowly, you lifted your hands and signed back: “It was great. I read a lot of books. You?”

James lit up like a Lumos spell, reading your hands with practised ease.

“Brilliant. Spent half of it elbow-deep in sign books and tea.”

You laughed. It was quiet and mostly breath, but real, and surprised, and warm. Emma still looked wary beside you, but even she didn’t interrupt.

James gave you a mock salute. “See you around.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and sauntered back to Gryffindor, smug as anything.

Back at his table, Sirius blinked. “Did you just flirt in another language?”

“Shut up,” James said, grinning and flushing all at once.

Peter leaned in, eyes wide. “Can you teach me? That was so cool.”

James beamed. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I can.”

Remus just nodded, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.

James Potter, for once, had said something without speaking, and it had finally been the right thing.

It was quiet in the corridor outside the library, too quiet. The torches flickered low and cast long, crawling shadows across the stone.

You had come alone, just a quick errand, returning a borrowed book before dinner. You liked these quiet walks. Or at least, you used to.

But something shifted in the air behind you. You didn’t hear them approach. You only felt the way the air changed - colder somehow, staler. The moment your hand touched the brass handle, a figure stepped into your peripheral vision.

Then another. Then three more.

Green and silver. Slytherins.

One of them sneered. You couldn’t catch all their words, but you could read lips - and their expressions said the rest.

“Look who’s pretending to be special.”

“It was bad enough you're a Puff, but had to get associated with that blasted Potter, huh?”

“Maybe he likes broken things, he even got that scarred Loopy-n with him.”

Your stomach dropped. You backed up, hands hovering slightly, unsure if you should sign for help or run. Your fingers trembled.

They didn’t wait.

“She can’t even hear us. Isn’t that hilarious?” / “Wonder if it’s the same blood that made her Deaf. Must be rotten.” / “Magical defect. An abomination.”

The first jinx hit your side - hard. You stumbled into the wall, your bag spilling across the stone floor.

A second jinx flew, catching your hand, your signing hand - leaving it red and raw, already swelling. You gasped, clenching your wrist, pain blooming like fire up your arm.

You tried to shout, sign - anything. But your vision blurred, and you felt the walls closing in.

And then, bright light. You couldn't really tell what was going on, unable to listen in for context so you just watched as the Slytherins scattered like startled crows as a hex snapped past your head and exploded against the far wall.

You looked up in shock.

James Potter stood at the end of the corridor, wand raised, jaw clenched.

He didn’t hesitate. He advanced on them like a storm, wand flashing. He was shouting angrily but you couldn't read his lips well enough.

They didn’t try to fight back at all and there were more of them, they ran. He didn’t watch them go. He was already kneeling next to you, wide-eyed.

“Hey - hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” he said, fast, panicked. “You’re alright. You’re - bloody hell, your hand - ”

You flinched when he reached for you.

James froze. “No, no, wait - I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You stared at him, confused, shaking. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t form the signs properly with your hand the way it was. You didn’t understand what he was saying, not completely, but his face said concern and regret and please don’t be scared of me.

Still, you edged back against the wall, trembling.

James reached slowly for your book that dropped a foot away, and handed it to you, his hands open and careful.

Then footsteps thundered down the hall.

Emma, Kip and Molly. Your friends, two in yellow robes and one in blue.

Emma’s eyes widened when she saw you on the floor, then immediately narrowed when she saw who was next to you.

“You.” She shoved James back, hard enough to make him stumble. “What did you do?!”

James’s mouth dropped open. “What? Nothing! I - they - I helped - !”

“They're injured, Potter!” Kip was already crouching beside you, inspecting your wrist with a worried frown. “Back off.”

“I didn’t - I swear, I stopped them!”

“I told you to stop before they get more attention,” Emma snapped, wrapping her arm protectively around your shoulder. “It's bad enough the heat we get from those snakes, you just had to bring the spotlight.”

You didn’t know what was being said exactly, but you could tell -Emma’s sharp voice, the way Kip pulled you close, the way James stood still and heartbroken and helpless.

James stepped back, hands falling uselessly to his sides. He didn’t argue anymore, nor did he fight.

He just watched as your friends gathered around you, guarding you like a flame in the wind, and led you away.

You looked back once, barely and James stayed frozen in that corridor, alone.

Kip was pacing, Emma had her arms crossed tight, and Molly has finally abandoned her books.

You sat curled into one of the armchairs, your hand bandaged and propped on a cushion, your eyes on the fire.

Then, finally, you started signing, slowly at first. Kip was the first to catch on, eyes flicking to your hands and back to your face.

“They were waiting for me. The Slytherins. I didn’t hear them come up. They said horrible things.”

Emma moved to your side instantly, her hand on your arm.

“They said I was wrong. That I shouldn’t exist. That I was - ” You looked away. “And then they hurtme.”

Kip’s fists clenched. “What?!”

“I couldn’t get away fast enough.” You swallowed, then added, “But James came.”

You looked up, meeting Emma’s sharp stare. “He fought them. He made them run.”

Emma’s jaw tightened. “Still doesn’t mean he gets a medal.”

“He didn’t expect one,” you signed softly. “He looked like he’d cry.”

Molly finally spoke up after heaving a sigh loudly. “They like him,” she said simply, nodding at you. “They’ve liked him.”

Kip’s head snapped around. “Wait - what? You and Potter?”

You flushed, your hands going still in your lap.

Emma heaved a long, slow sigh. “I guess. . . ” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I can’t guard you forever. You’re your own person. If you want to do this, we’ll stand by you. But if he hurts you - Helga, I'll hex his bollocks.”

You smiled faintly. “He won’t.”

You turned to Emma again and signed: “I’m going to tell him. We’ll figure it out together.”

Emma just nodded once, fierce and fond.

The air was crisp, sun catching the edges of gold leaves as they fluttered down into the courtyard. James stood with Remus by the arched stone entryway, rocking on the balls of his feet.

“Hopkins said they wanted to talk?” James muttered, nervous.

Remus smiled. “Looks like your bravery’s about to be tested somewhere besides a Quidditch pitch.”

James shot him a look. “Not helping.”

Then he spotted you.

You stepped into the courtyard, hands tucked into your sleeves, expression unreadable - but calm and focused.

You glanced up at him, and James straightened instantly.

Remus gave a low whistle and faded back into the hallway with a muttered, “Good luck, Romeo.”

You reached James, heart thudding.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. He raised his hands instead, signing slowly: “Are you okay?”

You nodded. Then you signed: “Why did you learn sign?”

James blinked, surprised at the sudden inquiry. Then his face softened. “You.”

You raised your brows. “Me?”

“I wanted to talk to you. Properly,” he said. “And I - I like you. I didn’t want you to keep being the one left out. Or for me to be the idiot who didn’t know how to listen.”

You smiled, and it was slow, a little shaky. “I like you too.”

James stared at you. “Wait, really?”

You nodded. “I came to say it out loud - or sign it out loud.”

He let out a breath like he’d been holding it all year.

“Do I still have a chance?” he asked.

You didn’t need your hands to answer. You just grinned and nodded again. James took a step closer. “I meant what I said. I’ll protect you. From them, from anyone.”

“I believe you.”

He hesitated, just for a moment - then signed, awkward but earnest: “Can I kiss you?”

You didn’t sign back.

You leaned in and kissed him.

His hands found your cheeks, careful and warm, and yours found the hem of his jumper. It was a kiss with trembling nerves and quiet relief.

When you pulled back, you laughed under your breath. James then thought in that very moment that he ought to preserve that smile and laughter.

end. masterlist

[bizarrelovetriangel]

karaoke night.

celebrating sylus' birthday karaoke night with the crow fam!

fluff!! also if you don't like the song choices please change them to your preferences lol <3 and thanks to those who gave me suggestions for sylus' songs!

happy birthday to our beloved dragon who deserves all the happiness !!!!!!

The karaoke room is filled with tension.

Wines and juices have all been refilled, snacks are half-way eaten, and the participants are ready to give it their all.

The twins are doing vocal warm-ups, and Mephisto is perched up on the very back middle couch, ready to be the judge.

You stared at your partner intensely, clasping his broad shoulders before lightly shaking his body.

"Sylus. This is a very important matter. If we get a lower score than Luke and Kieran, I'm breaking up with you."

On the night of the 18th of April, you find yourself in the beautiful, elegant karaoke room owned by the man of the hour, the birthday celebrant, Sylus.

After spending the day at the wildlife park with him, you two are now joined by Luke, Kieran, and Mephisto for karaoke night. Sylus has been wanting to use the new, all-in-one karaoke speaker and microphone that you'd bought last week, and this is the perfect time to do it.

The table in the center of the room is filled with various snacks, including your main meals for dinner and his sliced-up birthday cake, as well as everyone's preferred drinks.

Luke is drinking strawberry lemonade, Kieran is having iced tea, Mephisto has his water, Sylus got himself red wine, and you decided to get a Mimosa. Despite the alcoholic drinks, neither you nor Sylus are drunk.

Although, your drink certainly has made everything seem funny to you. You're unsure if it's the Mimosa's effects or if everyone just seems hilarious tonight. Either way, it surely made your experience more interesting.

Everyone chose you to be the first singer of the night, and so you took the microphone and selected a song.

I Think We're Alone Now by Tiffany.

It's an upbeat song that you like to sing as you cook and clean, so you've definitely had practice before. At the end, the karaoke machine gave you a generous score of 85.

You're proud of yourself, especially because you caught Sylus nodding and lip-syching along with you half-way through the song, which made you get into it even more.

Next up is Sylus. The first song he picked is You Give Love A Bad Name by Bon Jovi.

He loves all kinds of music, so when it comes to karaoke, anything goes. This time, he chose a classic rock song that had everyone bopping their heads and tapping their feet — even Mephisto was headbanging a little.

Score: 37.

"PFFFTTT - "

Sylus scoffs at his score displayed on the TV screen in giant, bolded fonts.

"It must be a glitch. Must've detected some background noises that interfered with my score."

Luke and Kieran were whistling and clapping their hands. "You did great, boss!"

"Yeah! You even scored higher than last time!"

Kieran's words of encouragement made you choke on your drink as you laughed even more, tears pooled around your eyes.

"That was wonderful, Sylus." you cooed, patting him on his right shoulder.

Regardless of his score, he looked like he was genuinely enjoying singing, so you can't help but smile and cheer along.

Sure, he has his own...special...singing style, but he always looks so full of joy whenever he's singing his heart out, and that's what really matters more than anything. Solely for this reason, you'll always be his number one fan.

Kieran went after and his song choice is Bring Me To Life by Evanescence.

He was fully committed into the performance by walking up to the front of the room and moving along as if he's singing on a stage in front of thousands of people.

Naturally, you, Luke, and Sylus can't help but join in on the background.

Score: 98.

"Damn."

Sylus wore a grin as Kieran bowed in gratitude for the cheers from you and Luke. "Looks like all the practice in the shower paid off."

The microphone was then passed on to Luke, who chose to sing Welcome To The Black Parade by My Chemical Romance.

Refusing to be outdone by his brother, Luke also sang at the front and did the whole performance as if he's on stage in front of a big audience.

Score: 98.

"Wow."

"A tie?!"

The twins shook their heads in unison. "One of us has to be the winner! Mephisto, who do you think sounded better?"

The crow did not hesitate to lift up his left wing to point at Luke.

"Yes!"

Kieran sighs in defeat, shoulders sagging. "Fine. I'll beat you next time!"

"Wait, Miss Hunter and the boss have to be in this too!" Luke exclaims. "We usually do karaoke just for fun, but since it's the boss' birthday, we should make it special tonight. Whoever gets the highest score should win a prize!"

Sylus crossed his arms. "I like it. I'm in."

You raised a brow at him. "So confident."

"I have no reason not to be."

Kieran thought for a moment. "We should do it in teams. Me and Luke versus Miss Hunter and the boss. First, we'll do another round of individual ones, and then we can each do a duet. We'll add our scores and whoever has the greater total is the winner."

"I'm partnered with Sylus?"

"Something wrong with that, sweetie?" he asked quietly, leaning closely to your face to give you a playful, intimidating look.

You almost got lost in his eyes and had the urge to caress his face.

Almost.

But you had to lock in.

You didn't really care much about the prize, but you're feeling particularly competitive tonight.

Rather than cupping his face just like what your heart truly wanted to do, you clutched on his shoulders tightly, forcing him to look at you seriously.

"Sylus. This is a very important matter. If we get a lower score than Luke and Kieran, I'm breaking up with you."

It took him thirty seconds to register what you had just said.

The first phrase that his brain heard is the last part of your sentence and he almost spat out all the wine he'd been drinking.

But after he replayed all of your words and realized you're just joking, he let out a chuckle that was packed with relief.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't freeze up in panic for a moment. Just the thought of you bringing up the possibility of a break up made him feel uneasy.

But as you generously remind him often, you're here to stay.

You're not going anywhere, and neither will he.

"You have nothing to worry about." Sylus smiled and softly poked your forehead. "We'll definitely win this."

The competition officially starts in this round.

Following the same order as the previous one, which was basically just for fun and practice, you went up first and sang Mr Brightside by The Killers.

You mean serious business.

You remained in your spot but you had to stand up and move your whole body to be fully get into it the same way Luke and Kieran do, as that seems to be the trick for getting a high score.

It was proven correct as you got a satisfying score of 89.

Sylus gave you a standing ovation, which had you giggling and curtsying dramatically.

But then your nervousness struck once you handed the microphone to Sylus.

Fly Me To The Moon by Frank Sinatra.

He dared to throw a wink at your direction in the middle of his performance, and now your heart is racing and your face feels hot.

It's quite a cheesy move, but when Sylus is the one doing it, you start feeling like you're in a romantic-comedy movie who's so lucky to be in love and be loved.

It's also a genius distraction for his off-key singing. You were put in a trance by that wink and the next thing you know, the song ends with the twins clapping and fake crying for him.

Score: 12.

"....."

Kieran sang A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton and of course, he scores 91.

Of course.

What a big difference from the man who sang before him.

Next, Luke gave a beautiful performance of Wonderwall by Oasis, and his result was 67. It's not as good as his first song, but it is still much, much better than a 12.

"Ugh."

You slumped your body on Sylus' side.

"It's so over."

"Don't jump to conclusions just yet." He tapped your head. "We still have one more chance to catch up. What song should we sing?"

While Luke prepares the second microphone, you and Sylus scrolled through the list of song choices.

"Let's do this one." He points at a track he recognized and you laughed, thinking he was just joking, but one glance at his face and you saw nothing but seriousness and determination.

"Are you serious?"

"We just watched the movie recently and the song still gets stuck in my head. Besides, I heard you singing it in the kitchen the other day. This time, let me join you."

Lay All Your Love On Me, a song from a musical film, Mamma Mia! and originally performed by Abba.

At this point, you've drank enough Mimosa to fully let loose and go all out for your duet.

"Okay. Let's do this!"

Singing the song all by yourself is a completely different experience than when singing with your lover. Once again, you were hit with the feeling of, 'Oh this is so cheesy, but I love it' in your chest.

You were smiling the whole time, especially whenever it's Sylus' turn to sing. Not because he's off-key, but because he was just as into it as you were and his energy boosts your own, making the entire performance really fun.

Passionate hand motions and eyes occasionally closing to feel the song; if only someone could've recorded Sylus at this moment, you'd gladly replay it over and over again.

You really do love seeing him like this.

He always looks his best when he's happy.

You're grateful for music and for karaoke nights for showing you this side of him that only his loved ones, his family, can ever see.

Score: 74.

"No fucking way!"

You excitedly faced Sylus and held up both of your hands for a high-five.

"We did so good!"

He gave what you asked for, along with a peck on your forehead before pulling you in for a one-arm embrace.

"I told you we got nothing to worry about." He passed the microphones to the twins. "Go on and beat our score, if you can."

You and Sylus watched like proud parents as they performed in front of the room.

I want It That Way by Backstreet Boys.

Just with the song choice, you already felt like they were going to win.

They sang great, unsurprisingly.

The plot twist of the night, however, was their score: 17.

"HUH?!"

You were failing to suppress your giggles.

"Weeeell, you might've butchered the chorus once you started singing at the same time... but individually you sounded great!"

Luke had been keeping track of everyone's scores starting from the second round.

You and Sylus have a total of 175 points.

As for Luke and Kieran, they have.... 175 points.

"Tied?!" the twins cried simultaneously.

All four of you turned your heads towards Mephisto.

"Mephie," You wore an innocent smile. "My favorite crow, my bestie..."

Sylus let out a brief, amused chuckle next to you while Mephisto blinked at you.

"Will you break the tie and decide which team won the karaoke competition?"

Mephisto tilted his head.

Then, he raised his right wing, the side where the twins are standing.

"...."

But then he stopped half-way and fully lifted his left, pointing to you and Sylus.

"Oooh, us?! Really?!"

You turned to Sylus for another high-five.

"Yay! We did it!"

Instead of a high-five, this time he picked you up from the ground with one arm around your waist, holding you against him before giving you a spin.

"Looks like you won't have to break up with me. You'll get to hear more of my singing."

You laughed and wrapped your arms around his neck, nuzzling your cheek against his.

"I can't wait!"

CLICK.

"Oh, Mephisto was recording this whole time?!"

Just for fun, while everyone is taking a snack break, you held up the microphone in front of Mephisto and he knew exactly what to do.

"CAW."

Score: 100.

"What the hell?!"

[gingerteawrites]

Limelight - Gojo Satoru

Content: You knew Gojo belonged in the limelight. Away from you most of the time, but you didn’t mind. That was until he lands perhaps the biggest role of his career, and suddenly the shouts of the world feel like they were enough to rip you apart.

actor!Gojo x female reader, Jealousy, insecurity, angsssssssssst, fluffy.

Word count: 3.5K words

A/N: Hello my darling readers, I hope you’re spending great holidays. I am so very excited to bring you this new story. I really wanted to get it out today so unfortunately I did not have time to thoroughly proofread it. Still, I hope you enjoy.

Epilogue here

Divider by: @v6que

Satoru Gojo was popular. Not just in school or among his peers. No, there was plenty of that when he was younger. The man was one of the rising stars in the acting scene. Stealing the public’s heart in roles as fearless hitmen, cocky space rangers, and even earnest soldiers.

And somehow Satoru Gojo was also your boyfriend. Yours. You had not even known who he was when you first met. Busy typing away at your laptop in a cafe, you were surprised at the boldness with which he approached you. And even more at how quickly he clung to you. But that was something you quickly grew accustomed to.

You grew accustomed to him talking your ears off whenever given the chance. Accustomed to his need to be close to you any opportunity he had. To the feeling of domesticity that set comfortably between the two of you.

Gojo wanted to scream about your relationship from the top of the world. You were his pride and joy after all. His one and only true love. Fans had started noticing how much happier he seemed on sets and in interviews after you started dating.

[There’s now way this man is single.]

[Ugh whoever they are, I’m so jealous!!!]

[Y’all think that someone has to be in a relationship to be happy? Smh.]

[It has to be another celeb right? Famous people only date each other.]

But this was all speculations. Speculations because the limelight scared you. You remember how the light in his crystal eyes had dimmed a bit when you told him you did not want to go public. An unintentional pout settled on his lips, and he grabbed both of your cheeks.

“But sweetheart, why?” Weren’t you as proud of him as he was of you? He wanted to take you to red carpets. To show you to the world. “My agent knows already, we don’t even need to make the announcement a big deal…”

“I know, Satoru,” your eyes were downcast. It hurt you to say no to him, especially on something like this. “But I don’t think I’m ready for all of that.”

His grip on your face loosened, and your eyes returned to his. He nodded lightly, plastering his regular smile back on his face, but you recognized the slight sadness behind his eyes. He did not want to pressure you into anything, but it broke his heart regardless.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you drew closer on the couch of your small apartment. Where he had grown to spend his days, his own lavish penthouse left untouched most of the time. Your hand took one of his from where it rested loosely on your cheek. “I’m just… You know how ruthless the media can be. I- I’m not built for that. At least not yet,”

“You don’t have to apologize, sweets,” he squeezed your hand in his, then bringing it to his lips for a light kiss. “You set the pace, okay? I don’t ever want to do anything that you’re not comfortable with.”

And so your secret relationship with Satoru Gojo continued. You enjoyed having him in your little corner of the world, away from the limelight. You came to love the way he clung to you. The way he found an escape in you. Every movie premiere you would show up with a sign to cheer him up, heart fluttering at the sly wink he shone your way while the other fangirls swooned at the action they thought directed at them.

Loving Gojo from the sidelines felt comfortable. He was yours to hold in the comfort of your own place. In the privacy of your hearts, the sentiments bloomed. Untouched, unobserved. And you told yourself you didn’t mind the boundless thirst about him online. The way every woman and even men pursued him relentlessly. Because he was yours. Yours only.

------------------------------------★★--------------------------------------

Gojo had been auditioning for the lead role in a new adaptation of Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet”. Ever passionate about his craft, he talked to you at length about wanting the role. His need to expand beyond the typical “playboy” he often played.

“I feel like I’m being type-casted,” he pouted against your chest, and you slipped your fingers through his undercut.

“You’re the most talented person I know. There’s no doubt you’ll get the role,”

He burst into your small apartment with his spare key a few weeks later, scaring you into a fall from your couch. After making sure you were alright accompanied by a flurry of apologies, he pulled you tightly against his chest.

“I got it, sweets! I got the role!” He rambled excitedly against your hair, his joy permeating into your own skin. Celebration that evening consisted of a home-cooked dinner that was made through kisses and impromptu dance sessions in the kitchen.

To your boyfriend, this was better than any party his management could throw. Or any lavish gifts he could receive from the industry. To have you celebrate his wins, big and small meant the world. You meant the world.

------------------------------------★★--------------------------------------

Yuki Tsukumo was an unconventional choice for female lead. Even with your limited knowledge of pop culture, you knew that the woman was usually cast in the roles of fearless femme-fatales. She was the personification of sexy, so much that even you had giggled over one of the photos Satoru showed you. But she wanted to expand her repertoire, Satoru explained, and she was very well connected.

Filming had commenced. And while in the past, Gojo would make time to visit and go on small incognito dates with you, the time together seemed to all but vanish. You texted him after you knew his work day was over.

[Hey baby, I hope today wasn’t too tiring. Do you want to come over for food? Or I can come to your place. Help you practice your lines and all] You chewed on your bottom lip, hoping to not come across as too needy. But it had been a full week without seeing Satoru, and your heart started to ache.

Long minutes passed before the screen lit up, three little dots indicating Satoru’s typing.

[I am so sorry sweetheart, I can’t tonight :((]

[I’m at dinner with Yuki, the director insisted on us needing to build chemistry. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m done, alright?] The words made your heart twitch with something unfamiliar, but you shook it away. This was normal, right? They were in a romance movie, so they needed to get to know each other. You typed your reply fast, putting the phone away.

[No worries, see you later :))]

[Later then. Miss u bebe]

Yuki cleared her throat across from Satoru, and he finally looked up from his phone.

“It’s not polite to be on your phone when someone is sitting across from you,” she picked up a glass of red wine, swirling it delicately before taking a sip.

“Haha, sorry” Gojo replied sheepishly, turning to his lock screen with a picture of both of you smiling over ice cream.

Yuki did not miss a beat, and leaned closer. “Who is that?”

He frowned, dropping the phone in the pocket of his bomber jacket. “No one.”

You did not receive any other text from your boyfriend that night.

------------------------------------★★--------------------------------------

Months trudged by, dragging on laboriously. And you held on. Held on so tightly to Satoru, whose time felt like less and less yours. You never expected to be the center of his world, despite his whispered sweet words. Despite the adoration held in his eyes when he looked at you and told you that you were. You did not want to make him feel guilty for the little time you now spent together. For the way you were slowly being pushed out of his life by his obligations. So you kept quiet. Bottled all your insecurities and sadness and shoved them in the chest of your heart.

As soon as announcements of the movie were released, complete with posters of Satoru looking at Yuki like she was the pearl of his eye and her arms laying languidly over his neck, the internet was lit on fire.

[Omg him in a fully romantic role?? Guys we’re not surviving this one]

[Just from the pictures and trailers their chemistry is OFF THE CHARTS]

[Yuki get in liiiiiiiiiiiine]

The craze exploded even more when paparazzi started posting pictures of them together at dinners, with other cast members but often time alone. The headlines, bold and red always found their way to you.

[THE NEW IT COUPLE!?]

Gojo scoffed at the headline, laying across your lap during one of the rare evenings he could spare.

“All the gossip about this is getting so fucking annoying,” he changed the channel on the tv with an eye roll.

“I know right,” your reply came out weak even to your own ears, and he looked up, noticing you bite the inside of your cheek. He sat up, tilting his head.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” You looked at him, forcing a smile on your lips. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” you chuckled. “I’m just a bit tired. Work and everything,”

A frown settled over his features, and he reached for your hand. “I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy lately.” he squeezed, hoping to convey his regret but you shook your head.

“It’s alright, Satoru, really,” the words left a bitter taste in your mouth. Because in the depths of your soul you knew it wasn’t. It did not feel alright. But it was his job. Who were you to pull him away from his dreams?

“When all of this is done let’s go on a trip, yeah?” His rosy lips were pulled into a smile and he drew closer, kissing your cheeks and nose. “Let’s go relax on a beach somewhere.”

You smiled and nodded. When all of this was over.

------------------------------------★★--------------------------------------

Tonight was the long anticipated premiere. After what felt like an eternity of lone days, between Satoru’s trips and countless interviews. And what you now recognized was pernicious jealousy and self-doubt, you were finally at the finish line. Things were finally going to calm down.

The red carpet was decked out, and it was with great difficulty that you found your place in the fan zone, behind a firm railing. There were so many people, even more than usual. A part of your heart felt nothing but joy at that realization. Satoru was getting the recognition he deserved. That was wonderful.

But this joy was slowly drowned by the words that left the awaiting fangirls and boys surrounding you.

“Omg their chemistry is out of this world!!”

“Did you see how he looked at her during last week’s interview?”

“I’m SO jealous!”

“They look so good together too. I couldn’t imagine a better match!”

The grip on your cardboard sign that read CONGRATULATIONS MY ROMEO faltered slightly. The words cut deeper than expected. After months of reading them online, on headlines and in papers, you thought you had learned to block them out, but you were lying to yourself. The same way you lied to Satoru those times he asked if you were okay. Okay with the growing rift. Okay with him not being yours in the eyes of the world. Except, it was your fault. You were the one who wanted things to be like this.

A violent cheer erupted around you, pulling you out of your thoughts and your eyes onto the red carpet. There they were, emerging from the same car. He held his hand out for her, and she grabbed it, standing to reveal her full splendor. Blonde hair immaculately tumbling down her shoulders, red dress hugging her perfect body. The camera shutters moved almost too fast for you to register. The way he held he waist and how they smiled at each other. You wanted to tell yourself he was a good actor, that was all. He’s acting. He’s acting.

But damn, was he good at it. Acting like they belonged. Your heart shattered when she placed a kiss on his cheek, and his response was an even wider smile. The cheers grew even more frantic. You felt the railing rattle. Herald of your world collapsing.

They look so good together

Who else could he even be with?

He can do so much better than you

You waited for him to look your way like he always did. For a smile. For a little glance. But… nothing. He walked with her at his side past you and the flurry of screaming fans. All that was left to look at was the movie poster. The way he looked at her and how her hands draped over his body.

Who were you to pull him away from this world?

Who were you to stand between him and her?

------------------------------------★★--------------------------------------

[Hi bebe, are u okay?]

[You haven’t picked up any of my calls]

[It’s alright if you’re busy but please at least text back]

[I’m worried]

[Y/N?]

A few days had passed since the movie premiere and Satoru checked his phone for the nth time. Usually you were there to support him at those events, but everything had gone too fast that night. Had you even been there? Or did you get buried in the crowd somewhere. He only remembers you texting later that evening that you were feeling unwell and was going away to your parents’ for the weekend.

[Wait for me, I’ll drive you] he typed quickly, hearing his name getting yelled to leave for some after party after the screening ended.

[It’s alright, I know you’re busy] That was the last text from you.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he read the messages again. No, something was wrong. Terribly wrong and he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he figured out what it was. You weren’t the type for silent treatment.

He pulled a hoodie over his head and grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter, heading for the door.

The drive to your place was mired with spiraling thoughts. What did he do wrong? He knew that his recent schedules did not allow for you two to spend as much time as you usually did. But you had said it was okay. He asked, and you said it was fine.

He pulled into the parking lot of your building a bit more recklessly than usual, and headed upstairs. As soon as he inserted his spare key into the lock, he whispered an apology under his breath. You had given him permission to come even when you weren’t there. But it did not help him feeling like this was an invasion of privacy

*Clack clack*

The door opened with a small creak. He had promised to oil them when he first noticed. That was months ago.

Satoru slipped into your small living room, immediately noting the cold. You were not here. He took off his shoes and trudged quietly through the apartment. He eventually pushed into your small bedroom, the warm scent from the diffuser almost deceiving him into thinking he would find you laying down for a nap.

He did not even know why he was still here, you clearly had gone to your parents’ home like you had said. Or somewhere else. He sighed, you wouldn’t like about that. He was spiraling again.

He was about to leave when the noticed a small notebook at the edge of your bed. He had seen it before, with its brown leather covering and flower embroidered onto the cover.

“Her journal,” he mumbled. Suddenly his hands itched for the the book. Explanations about this situation were bound to be in there, right? But it felt so wrong. And the feeling only intensified when his fingers grazed the cover. Taunting him when he flipped open the pages to the latest entry, dating the night of the premiere. But slowly replaced by a piercing ache as he read through your writing from the last few months.

------------------------------------★★--------------------------------------

You rose from your bed with a pounding head ache. Yeah, this was what you got for crying yourself to sleep and barely eating anything. Your old room had been converted into some sort of storage, and you almost tripped over a box at your feet in an attempt to stand.

Your parents were worried sick, but you dodged all of their questions. What were you even going to say?

I’m dying of jealousy over my super famous actor boyfriend and his co-star?

The words sounded silly to your own ears. You stared at your phone wearily, laid facing down on your dresser and groaned.

Eventually you would have to talk to Satoru. But not now. Not when your heart felt so fragile. As if your entire being would collapse if forced to face the fact that Satoru could not be yours.

After listening to make sure your parents had left the house, you trudged downstairs in search of something to eat. Your stomach grumbled uncomfortably as you whipped the fridge door open. You groaned at what you saw. Being an ingredients household could not be worse at the moment.

A knock at the front door resounded when you had finally settled on making a quick omelet. You sighed and left your eggs for the door. The earlier this person was gone, the sooner you could start. It was probably some sort of delivery anyways.

Without checking the peephole, you swung the door open and was faced with Satoru, towering over you. A seething Satoru. Your first instinct was to close the door, but he blocked it with a strong arm, fully walking into the living room and shutting it behind him.

“Y/N,” his voice held none of the anger that his features carried. Instead he sounded hurt.

“Satoru, I-,” you panicked. You were not ready for this. Not now. “Why are you here?”

He walked closer and you took a step back. “Why am I here?” he chuckled, but there was no trace of amusement whatsoever. “I should ask why my girlfriend is running away from me.”

You bit your lip, looking up at him. You noticed his disheveled hair, his red eyes. Had he been sleeping well? How long had he driven to even get here? You had only mentioned your parents’ address in passing.

“I’m not running,” you spoke quietly.

“I don’t know if you’re trying to lie to yourself or me with that,” he scoffed, finally grabbing a hold of your hand. He dug into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out the leather-bound notebook, dropping it into your open hand.

Your eyes widened, and you looked up at him, suddenly angered.

“You read it!?” your fingers closed over the book, yanking it closer to your body.

“I did,” it was time for his voice to raise. “Because you wouldn’t tell me anything. Why didn’t you tell me anything, Y/N?” his shoulders were slumped, and you felt a lump form in your throat. This was not the moment to cry. Not now. You steeled your resolve.

“Satoru, maybe…” his eyes found yours and your guts twisted nervously. “Maybe we should end this,” you concluded.

He inhaled shakily, fists balled tightly, “Really, Y/N?”

You sniffled now, tears filling your lash line. “Clearly you and Yuki make such a good couple-”

“Good couple my ass! Y/N I love you. YOU. Not her, she’s just work,” his hand raked through his hair. “She’s an obligation. But you have my heart. Not her, sweet, you.”

Satoru fell to his knees in front of you, reaching for your hands again. “I’m sorry that I was not there,” his voice was thick with emotion. “I’m sorry that I caused you to feel like you weren’t enough. Like you weren’t deserving of my time. I’m sorry for not considering your feelings more carefully in all of this publicity thing.” He pulled your free hand to his lips, whispering against it. “But please talk to me, Y/N. I promise to do better, just please.”

The words sent a flurry of emotions through you. You knew you should have said something. But that one insecure part of yourself told you that you didn’t deserve to cause trouble. You loved him. How else would it have hurt so much if you didn’t? And you had told yourself that leaving would be good for him too. You would be out of the way.

But now Satoru was here at your feet. Begging for you. Despite your insecurities and fears and ugliness that he must have read through your journal, he was still here. Asking for you to remain his. Offering himself to you anew. Your finally broke, falling to your knees, now face to face with the man.

“I’m sorry, Satoru,” you choked out, tears spilling from your eyes. “I was- I was scared, and I thought it would be easier if I was out of the way. You deserve so much.”

He shook his head fervently, hand finding your cheek “I want you. That is all, Y/N,” his voice was still shaky. “Losing you is the last thing I want. You’re more important to me than this job.”

You shook your head in return, “Being an actor is your life’s work, Satoru. I can’t stand in the way,”

“You’re not standing in the way, Y/N. If it wasn’t for your support I probably would have stopped.” He was frustrated. “On those nights when it all felt too much, you were there. You are the one who keeps me going in this, don’t you see?” His eyes held yours with such sincerity that your heart threatened collapse.

You let him pull you into his warm embrace, and finally wrapped your arms around his middle, crying freely into his shoulder.

“I won’t let anything or anyone come between us, Y/N. But I need you with me on this. Please” he whispered against your cheek.

You needed to fight for this together.

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated(❁´◡`❁)

[tiamathh]

Walk Walk Fashion Baby

Hi girlies new year new style ykwim anyway this is a pac that i have been wanting to make for a long time but i was like idk how many ppl will like it etc but now idc about all that i want to have fun so here it is!! Have fun and stay hydrated. muah <33 also my paid readings are open there are a few slots (15) if anyone's interested xx ciao <3 like and rb if you like xx

Masterlist / Paid Readings + FB / Tip jar

Pile 1

Hi pile 1! You need to try that classical, timeless, style, i know it can be annoying to look at all the beige and muted tones but its so much more than that like, picture this, a tailored blazer or high-waisted trousers that fit like a dream. tbh I am also getting pearls for some reason so maybe adding neckklaces as accessories can be something you are interested in to incorporate in your style next year. Start with a simple white shirt, a fitted black dress, or a pair of cut jeans. Then you can accesorise with delicate gold bracelet, a black bag, or a string of pearls again with the pearls they are calling for you right nowww.

Moreover, another style you can incorporate is just as sharp, and elegant so like the whole academia aesthetic, regardless of light or dark that doesn’t matter but what I am trying to say is, clothes with shape. Like cinched wastes and just clothes that create shape for you are like something you really should give thought to. It’s about being comfortable but also looking effortlesss while doing it all, I think basics like camis, just plain shirts/tshirts are something you need more of in your closet because theres so many ways to style them other than just for formal wear. Like one style inspo is literally Proncess Diana cannot get more elgant than her istg, enjoy muah <33

Pile 2

Y’all this is my pile you guys are my PEOPLE ok to begin with you need to stop being afraid of colour and looseness like not everything has to be tight and fitted especially just because the microtrend world says so. Experiment with “loud” colours and different textures, things you may have thought are “odd” and don’t look good, because trust me the way it can all be pulled together is crazy and so much fun!! Layer, the most important part, stack rings and bracelets and go for those colours that lowkey hurt your eyes because fashion is about colour and pattern and texture and taking all of it out of fashion just makes it dull imo.

Start with a bright coloured tshirt, maybe something like yellow, then layer on, very “indie kid” aesthetic like the high saturation stuff. Mixed with that I am also getting maximalism to the MAX layer layer layer, stack stack stack you should look like a walking apparell store (kidding) seriously though if you have been feeling like you want to experiment with something like this and oxidised jewellery and mixing different styles mainly because all of your wardrobe is mismatched (me) then go for it because I promise it will come out looking way better than you may have imagined. 

Pile 3: 

Ooo I love this, okay so very romanticised, very coquette but not really, this is also the pile which will look so good in pastels in lighter colours. All I am getting in my head are those pictures of people on picnics in their flowy outfits and dresses looking so pretty and at peace, bows and dellicate bangles, just a very dainty aesthetic im thinking light fabrics and romantic fashion like lace-trimmed dresses, pastel skirts and floral prints, very fairytaile-ish. Ruffles or embroidery too and just magical overall. Also the complete opposite of pile 2 here, minimalist aesthetic may suit you a lot so try it out next year!

I am talking about keeping it simple, not too much with the accessorising and maybe a staple or statement accessory piece that goes with everything and anything you wear. Also for some of you with this simplistic style, you may have to be pushed to try on something more glam too like a bold red lip when it comes to makeup, like be bolder with your makeup experiment with more purples, pinks and reds while keeping the outfits simpler. 

All Rights Reserved tiamathh©® DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REWORD, STEAL!

[voxslays]

CLOSE TO YOU — THE SALESMAN

PART EIGHT — A MEAL PAIRINGS: The Salesman (Gong Yoo) x Reader. WARNINGS: Mentions of kidnapping, Reader is mentioned to be a foreigner (not stated from where), starvation, not proofread.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tap, tap, tap. The hollow noise echoed through the small black room as you awoke from your slumber. You were met with the same four walls that you were pretty acquainted with after staring at them all day and night. By now, you were sure Gong Yoo was purposefully trying to drive you insane—and so far it was working splendidly.

The door creaks open with ease, revealing Gong Yoo, with his perfectly styled hair and his usual outfit; sporting a navy blue suit and black dress shoes. “Good morning, Naekkeo.” He smiles, holding a red tray with a carton of milk and some fried eggs on it. The salesman walks over to the bed where you’re chained and places it on the nightstand. “Eat up.”

You don’t know which part is worse; his blatant stare or the way his smile never wavers. Yet, you gently push the tray away with your unchained right hand. “I’m not hungry.” You turn away from him. He chuckles—and you miss it, but his eye slightly twitches in anger. So you were going to be a brat, huh?

“You have two options,” He says plainly, holding out both of his empty hands. “Either eat up, or I do it for you.” He warns. The food was tempting, though. You hadn’t eaten in days and your mouth was watering like a river. Yet, you refuse to turn to face him, your gaze still fixed on the wall. Oh, you sweet little bird, you’d really given him no other choice had you?

“So you’ve chosen option two.” The salesman says, picking up the spoon and bringing the platter of eggs and bacon closer. He pulls your face closer as he scoops up some of the egg into the spoon. You purse your lips. What the hell did he think he was doing? There was no way in hell you were opening your mouth like this for a man—regardless if he was attractive or not.

“Open your mouth.” He demands.

And damn, did he look pissed. Gong Yoo was growing tired of your behavioral issues with him. Unbeknownst to you, when he had originally left, he had planned to make you his little ‘pet.’ Unfortunately, that reality seemed less and less likely with you every passing day. What a shame. He would have to use other ways to make you to obey.

Gong Yoo liked your firey spirit. You were kind, but bold. After all, you were the one who practically begged Gi-hun and that officer not to kill him, right? And he absolutely adored the way your cheeks would heat up every time he was around, even if you didn’t notice. Even now, he could see the blush coating your cheeks as he force fed you. Regardless of what you said or did—a part of you liked what he was doing to you.

The salesman can’t help but smile to himself as he sits on the bed after you’ve finished your meal. He manually combs back his raven hair as you look at him in confusion. What the hell could he possibly want now of all times? As if he could sense your frustration and internal thoughts, he clears his throat, sitting up straight as he elegantly fixes his black tie.

“I have a proposition for you.”

TAGLIST: @scuzmunkie @iloveinhodaeho @devilishdelirium @muchwita @ang3lgvts@beebeechaos @yru3xme@princeofkhaenri-ah

[witchezandwonderz]

The Dragon's Empress

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Female reader

Word Count: 2,661

Summary: Aegon, initially indifferent to his arranged marriage, becomes captivated by his intelligent and strong wife, Y/N. As their bond grows, he respects her intellect and strength, while Y/N navigates her own plans, ultimately becoming a powerful influence in his reign.

Part 2 available here

The day Aegon was told he was to marry was a day like any other. Aegon simply did not care, as his arrogance and ignorance led him to believe that any woman he married, regardless of her house, name, or legacy, would naturally be an idiot. Consequently, he sought no information about his bride-to-be. His mother, Alicent, had attempted to sit with him and have an actual conversation about the matter, but she was always dismissed by her son, who would sometimes make up an excuse or, more often, outright express how little he cared. On one occasion, he even said, “I would prefer if she were somewhat attractive; if not, I can just close my eyes,” before erupting into laughter and drowning his thoughts in wine once again.

Y/N Y/L/N was the last person Aegon expected to marry. Though he knew little of her, her power was undeniable. Despite coming from a relatively low-born family, Y/N was a highly intelligent woman. Alicent Hightower initially arranged the marriage to secure an heir to the throne, as her son’s lifestyle demanded one sooner rather than later. Alicent deliberately chose a lady of modest birth, expecting a woman who would “shut up and do what she was told”—a belief rooted in her own ignorance. Alicent had never considered that a woman of lesser means might be highly intelligent—how could she be?

Aegon could never forget the moment he first laid eyes on his new wife. On the day of their wedding, he waited impatiently within the grand hall of the Red Keep, eager to get it over with so he could go drink with his companions, as he did daily. The doors opened, Y/N’s name was announced, and all heads, including Aegon’s, turned towards the door in anticipation. In that moment, a raven-haired beauty entered the room. She stood tall, her gaze sweeping over the gathered lords and ladies before settling on him. Aegon found himself spellbound by her striking green eyes, which held a mysterious allure—a blend of confidence and intensity that seemed to pierce straight through him.

Her raven hair flowed over her shoulders like silk, half pulled back in an intricate braid woven with emerald pins that mirrored the colour of her eyes. Aegon’s gaze travelled over her, his usual guarded expression slipping into something softer, almost awestruck. The rich emerald gown she wore clung to her curves with elegant precision, enhancing her beauty. She was both queenly and alluring—a vision of strength and beauty that made Aegon’s heart pound in a way he hadn’t anticipated. However, her presence had the opposite effect on Alicent, who, though an intelligent woman, found herself somewhat displeased.

Aegon had seen many beautiful women at court, but there was something about Y/N that captivated him. As she approached, her gaze steady and unwavering, he found he could not look away. His mouth stretched into a grin, his confidence and arrogance emboldening him to display his obvious pleasure.

When she reached the altar, her eyes locked onto his, and Aegon, always composed, felt himself falter. There was a flicker of amusement in her gaze, a slight curve of her lips, as though she were aware of the effect she had on him. It was a boldness he hadn’t expected, and it stirred something deep within him.

He stared at her as she curtseyed before him, bowing her head gracefully as she said, “Your grace.”

Aegon licked his lips in response, admiring her beauty. “A beauty,” he stated, extending his hand for her to take. Y/N stood tall once again, reaching out to take his hand into hers.

“Thank you, your grace,” she replied, her gaze fixed on his as she smirked. Aegon smirked back, secretly thanking his mother in his thoughts.

Y/N had heard stories of Aegon—stories of his wicked and impulsive ways. She knew she ought to be frightened, but as a woman, she understood that most men, regardless of their actions, were naturally wicked and impulsive creatures. Although she had not anticipated Aegon’s visibly pleased reaction, she knew it might not last once he discovered her interest in Westerosi politics and her level of education.

Otto Hightower spent the first month of their marriage trying to convince Aegon that Y/N had ulterior motives. He disliked the way Y/N articulated herself, her knowledge of battle, tactics, and politics, and most of all, her ability to captivate the council’s attention, as they hung onto her every word.

Aegon initially agreed, choosing to watch her carefully instead of confronting her. But the more he observed her, the more impressed he became. Y/N consistently presented ideas that would benefit Aegon, not just herself. He realised this more deeply as he continued to watch her.

Alone, he often found himself thinking of her—replaying her words and actions in his mind. One evening, he realized he wasn’t thinking of her policies but of her. He wanted to know her more—as a wife, not just as a queen. His thoughts were interrupted when his mother, Alicent, entered the room with a harsh look.

“That woman has been speaking out of turn again,” Alicent stated, her tone laced with frustration. Aegon looked up, barely able to see her in the dim candlelight.

“By ‘that woman,’ I assume you mean my wife,” he replied, already amused by Y/N’s effect on his mother. Alicent scoffed.

“Your wife? Please do not act as though you see her as anything more than an object.”

Aegon did not like that.

“Y/N is my wife, mother, not an object. You will do well to respect your Queen,” he retorted coldly, standing from his chair. Aegon had grown to respect Y/N as his queen and perhaps even as an equal—something he’d never thought possible.

Alicent was taken aback by her son’s change of character.

“I do respect the Queen, my lord, but I do not believe the council or you should trust her as of yet,” she replied more calmly, hoping to avoid angering him. Aegon gestured dismissively toward the door.

“That will be all, mother,” he insisted. Alicent tried to argue but fell silent at his insistent gesture. Huffing, she did as she was told.

Once alone, Aegon decided to visit his wife’s chambers. The couple had not spent a night together yet, and he felt compelled to know her beyond politics.

Arriving at Y/N’s chambers, he gestured for her guard to leave and knocked loudly. There was no response, so he knocked again. When he heard her call out, “Who is it?” he couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s your husband,” he called back, pleased with the term. He entered the room, greeting her with a broad smile.

“Y/N, how are you?” he asked genuinely. Y/N chuckled. “Y/N? Wow, your grace, that’s the first time you’ve called me by my name.”

He smiled back, “There is no need for formalities, so please call me Aegon.”

Y/N moved closer, responding, “Ok, then, Aegon.”

The two shared stories, laughter, and lighthearted moments, both visibly more comfortable in each other’s presence.

Neither of them realized how late it had become, both needing to rise early the next morning for their duties. Aegon stood up, preparing to say goodbye. Y/N stood as well, thinking it respectful to rise with him. They gazed at each other for what felt like an eternity.

Aegon stepped forward, his pulse quickening, and reached for her, gently brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. His fingertips lingered as he traced the line of her jaw, his gaze drifting over her face as if seeing her for the first time. He had never respected a woman in this way; he typically saw them as disposable. But not Y/N. Her green eyes softened, inviting him closer, and in that moment, the distance between them vanished. His hand slid to the back of her neck as he leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a tentative kiss that grew deeper, filled with a quiet intensity neither had expected.

Y/N responded, her hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingers. There was no rush, only a gradual surrender as they lost themselves in each other’s touch, their kiss growing more passionate, each moment revealing a new layer of longing that had simmered beneath the surface for too long. Aegon’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, marveling at the way she fit against him—strong yet soft, fierce yet tender.

For the first time, Aegon felt himself let go of the weight of the crown and the world outside their door, focusing solely on her—this woman who had challenged and captivated him from the start. Y/N moaned as she felt his fingers explore places that had never been touched before. Aegon smirked, pleased with the power he held over her, and perhaps even more, with the power she’d held over him since he first saw her. He continued, ensuring that despite her reactions, he never broke their kiss.

Their gentle, passionate kiss quickly turned into a different kind of passion—a hunger.

These nights continued, and the couple soon decided to reside in the same chamber. Aegon no longer had use for the whores he had once spent his nights with, as he had now found his true love.

One day in particular would cement Aegon’s trust and love for Y/N.

Y/N had arrived late to the council meeting that morning. The gathered lords and ladies had already begun discussing matters of state when Y/N finally entered the room, offering hurried apologies for her tardiness, explaining that she’d been delayed with other pressing matters.

“And what matters could be so urgent that you kept the king waiting?” Alicent questioned sharply, a hint of displeasure in her voice as she sipped her wine. Aegon opened his mouth, ready to defend Y/N, but she raised a hand, signaling that she could speak for herself.

“Please, my love. I may speak for myself,” she said, casting him a warm look that melted any lingering irritation in him. Then, she turned back to Alicent, her expression hardening as she replied, “Royal matters, which do not concern you, my lady.” Y/N mirrored Alicent’s motion and took a measured sip of her own wine.

Aegon let out a loud chuckle, clearly pleased with his wife’s boldness. He settled back into his seat, brimming with pride as she held her ground.

“It has come to our attention, my lord,” began Otto Hightower, the king’s Hand, clearing his throat to regain the room’s focus, “that there are whispers of betrayal within the kingdom.” Aegon nodded as Otto spoke, giving him his full attention, though Y/N listened more intently than she showed.

“It is said there are rebels among the commoners who seek your death,” Otto continued gravely.

As the council deliberated on possible responses, each suggestion seemed more futile and extreme than the last. The lords’ plans were all rash, aimed more at silencing rumors than solving the root problem, and Y/N knew each proposal would only stoke the fires of unrest. Though several of the council members exchanged uneasy glances, noting her uncharacteristic silence, none dared question her outright.

Aegon, too, was surprised by Y/N’s unresponsiveness; she was usually one of the first to offer counsel. But as he gazed at her, his mind drifted back to the passion they’d shared the previous night, smirking at the memory. He suspected she might still be distracted by the effect he’d had on her.

Y/N, however, was deep in thought. While remnants of the night before lingered in her mind, she was more focused on a plan—one that, she knew, would not sit well with the king.

----

A/N- I really enjoyed writing this one!

Part 2 available here

Please like, reblog and comment if you enjoyed:)

My requests are open!

[silhouetteonpaper]

The Rooftop

Summary: The rooftop was like your safe space. It felt even more familiar than the apartment you just moved into. Transitioning to the city wasn’t easy, and you had to do it all alone. But when someone else joins you at your secret spot, who would’ve thought where you’d be by the end of the week? Natasha Romanoff x Reader W/C: 2,985 Warnings/Themes: Angst, fluff, allusions to suicide, combat, abandonment A/N: I just moved to nyc and unfortunately Natasha does not live in the same building :( But it gave good inspiration for this fic I’ve been cooking up! I hope you enjoy! (this fic does contain brief mentions of suicide, but doesn’t outwardly state it. if you are ever feeling down, my DMs are always open.)

Crisp, cool air blew across the red of your cheeks, the partially dry tears making haste to fully evaporate. Puffy red eyelids left in their stead, yet you ignored it to look out at the city below. Your legs dangled off the concrete, a thin coat barely keeping you warm in the winter weather outside. The rooftop provided solace from the world— no matter what was going on in your life, there would be peace and quiet up here. Though, this apartment complex had a different view on the top floor.

Instead of being five or so stories up, this building was reaching for the stars at over fifty floors. You never imagined you’d move to a city where the buildings climbed to incredible heights, but here you were. The cars were smaller this high up, yet the lights were so much brighter. Each little window, each traffic light, each digital billboard traveling for miles into the distance; it all filled the muted buzz below with a warm glow. There was another difference with this new apartment building’s view, but it wasn’t one you encountered on the first night after moving in.

The third night was when this change occurred. A disruption to your peaceful evening, prompted by the redhead who jolted at the sight of your dark silhouette. “Oh, I’m sorry.” You spoke, turning around to see the woman in the low lighting. She had been so quiet when entering the rooftop, it was only the sharp inhale that gave away her presence. As the woman looked you up and down, you hoped she couldn’t see your red teary eyes under the dark night sky. “I stole your spot, didn’t I? I can leave…” But before you could move to get up, she waved her hand outwards to keep you in place.

“No, there’s no need. This is a shared space.” You nodded once, turning back to your former spot. Even in the dim lighting, you could see her lips curve into a soft smile. If you studied her expression harder, maybe there was something else in her eyes beyond that. “Are you new to the building?” The woman asked as she sat a few feet away on the ledge.

You wrapped yourself tighter in your coat. “Yeah, moved in just a few days ago. It’s quite the dream, but definitely more… busy— than what I’m used to.” There was a feeling like you could talk openly with this woman; the words easily formed regardless of your prior state. She made the bold move to not only join you, but spark up a conversation. It felt comfortable.

“Welcome to the city,” She laughed. It was low and raspy, making you smile in return. “You’ll get used to it eventually. I’m Natasha, by the way.” Her eyes met yours, and that’s when she noticed their glassy rim. 

You quickly introduced yourself, looking back out to the city before she felt the need to press. “Nice to meet you.” Her eyes lingered on you for a moment, but eventually her gaze fell back out to the vast streets as well.

“What got you to move here?” Natasha asked, keeping things light. You weren’t sure if she was purposely avoiding asking what was wrong.

You kept your eyes on everything but her. “Work. My new job is in the city, and I figured it would be easier to move all together than to commute.” Were you oversharing? You weren’t sure, and the exhaustion from crying earlier was making you slightly unaware of your words. That’s why you came up here in the first place; to think and to process the harsh transition. For some reason, Natasha was making you question your every move. You didn’t want to ruin her night with your sob story.

“Smart, probably easier that way.” She was likely just playing along, yet you hoped your small talk wasn’t boring her. The conversation would have been so much easier if you weren’t freezing in the winter wind. No matter how close you pulled your jacket, the chill still got into your bones. “You’re shivering. Why don’t you come inside for some coffee?” She was observant, you quickly realized.

Did you hear her correctly? Looking up at her, she was already gazing at you with gleaming eyes and questioning brows. Your lips curved into a sort of half smile; something about her was enticing. She didn’t mention your red eyes, or strange behavior. Natasha just went along with it all and invited you inside. How could you say no? “That would be lovely.”

Her unit was laid out similarly to yours, except she decorated hers completely different. Instead of the homey, cozy ambiance you created in your own apartment with the softest plush couch and all the warmest blankets you could find, Natasha opted for a sleeker, more stylish appeal. She had a leather couch in the center of the living room, paintings that seemed to have large price tags hung on the walls, and a minimalist clean feel on each kitchen counter. It almost seemed like she didn’t spend much time here. There wasn’t much live between the walls and expensive decorations, yet maybe that was the kind of person she was.

“Here,” Natasha handed you a white mug of steaming coffee. Natasha stood behind the counter, nodding toward a stool at the countertop for you to sit. The warmth was relieving as you held the steaming liquid between your hands, offering a nod in thanks. There was a silence, but not necessarily an awkward one.

“So,” You sipped at your coffee, debating what to ask her. Eyeing the paintings, you opted for the usual ‘get to know you’ banter. “What do you do for work?”

Natasha must’ve noticed your prior look around, as she smiled. “I work at a law firm.” That’s why she was so observant, it was likely her job to notice every detail. She poured herself a mug of coffee, but while her eyes were focused on the mug, yours were stuck on her. There was an interesting quality to her; she was forward, yet kind. She was classy, yet seemed humble. The incessant urge to get to know her only grew.

“How long have you lived in New York?” You kept the questions going, savoring the time with Natasha while trying to keep the silence at bay.

“Over a decade now,” She answered, tilting her head as more gears turned internally. “But I’m still learning new things about the city to this day.” Her eyes met yours again, and you smiled in response. Natasha was attempting to make you feel better about your nervous jitters regarding moving to a big city, and it was definitely making a big impact. It was proof that a little kindness could go a long way.

“Can I ask you something now?” Natasha questioned softly, wrapping her hands around the warm mug out of hesitance. You nodded, raising your eyebrows ever so slightly. Assuming she’d ask something taboo, you thought she’d propose a silly personal question that would help her get to know you. Why else would she ask permission? But the next words Natasha spoke made your heart sink. “What was going on before I got to the roof? Are you alright?” You realized you hadn’t even thought about your earlier episode since Natasha appeared.

It was probably quite the sight to walk in on. Someone dangling their feet over a rooftop with tears streaming down their face, protected by nothing but the warmth of their red cheeks. Most people don’t sit on the ledge of a building unless they have grim intentions. You hoped she couldn’t see that much, but her ability to notice even the smallest of details was becoming more clear. The truth was, you were completely overwhelmed. Moving to a new city was one of the scariest things you’d ever done. 

All your life, you lived in a small town where kids were expected to grow up and join the endless cycle of never escaping it. You were different; ever since the idea of graduating filled your mind, you dreamed of a life where you could leave and see the world. Your parents disagreed, and knew the wish would fizzle out eventually. But with perseverance, you got your degree, worked a simple job at home to save up, and finally received a job offer in one of the many iconic places you had dreamed of visiting.

It all sounded so perfect; moving to the city, working a job you loved, becoming the best version of yourself. But that reality was quickly slashed in half when your goodbyes were fronted with your parents cutting you off. They didn’t support you moving away, and you knew they wouldn’t. But a part of you hoped they would change their minds after seeing how happy you were here. So far, they’ve kept up the cold front, but you knew that this was just another hump to get over.

Your apartment was quickly furnished with each piece you meticulously chose beforehand. The cozy safe space was built, and you were ready to face the world outside. But to your dismay, the workforce on this side of the coast was quite contrasting to what you were used to. There was no evidence of a team that worked together, but rather competing employees and constant challenges to prove yourself. The first day of work was so overwhelming, you swore you’d never leave your apartment again. Still, the urge to keep persevering was embedded in you at this point.

Another day of work, and you were completely drained. If only you weren’t so excited to start, and offered to work the second you moved in. The inevitable breakdown commenced the moment you got home from the crowded subway ride; each slow stop into the stations urging your tears to finally fall as you rode back from work. You had no one to comfort you but the serene cityscape that coaxed you to move here in the first place. After sitting in the heavy weight of despair for a few hours, Natasha’s presence was relieving. Proof that people weren’t all terrible, and maybe the city had something good to offer.

You suddenly realized Natasha had been staring at you with furrowed brows for who knows how long; the silence had grown as she waited for you to respond. “It’s been a lot to move here as someone who isn’t used to the city,” You paused, trying to think of what to say. Natasha clearly cared about what was happening earlier, so you knew there was no reason to spare details. “My parents cut me off when I left home, so I’ve been on my own during this move.” You looked down at your nearly-finished mug of coffee. “Work has been terrible, and I’m worried I made the wrong choice.”

There was more silence, but you could feel Natasha’s expression soften. “I go to the roof to think. It’s what I did at my old place. I promise I wasn’t up there for any other reason.” You clarified, looking back up at Natasha to see her smile slightly.

“Good, because there was no way I was letting that happen.” Her tone was back to being direct, just as before. There was an unspoken comfort in the way she listened to you, like she somehow understood— or at least wanted to. You weren’t sure what it was, but you were thankful Natasha had entered the rooftop when she did.

“Is that why you sat with me, and invited me inside?” The question left your lips out of worry. If you weren’t a damsel in distress, would she take back her kindness? Maybe it was your recent anxieties forming in new ways; the abandonment from your parents had to have left a mark.

Natasha tilted her head again, you could tell that meant she was thinking. “Not completely. If anyone is out there crying alone, I’m not just going to leave.” You took a deep breath, offering her an understanding smile.

“Does this happen often, then?” You joked, sipping at the last drop of your coffee. She laughed, shaking her head.

“You’re my first rooftop rescue— in this apartment at least.” She winked, making the red of your cheeks return. “But in all honestly, I’m sorry about your parents. I’m glad you moved here, we have one less cranky neighbor now.” Her eyes lit up as you laughed. “If you ever need anything, I’m right down the hall.” Natasha was truly kind, yet cunning. Whatever this was between you two, you were beyond grateful.

After an exchange of numbers and a few lasting goodnights, you left for your own apartment. Coffee with Natasha was just what you needed, and the guarantee of seeing each other again kept you eager for whatever tomorrow had to offer. Her extended support instilled you with the urge to give living in New York one more shot. If you knew she was just down the hall, maybe living here wouldn’t be so bad.

—————

After you returned from a long workday, you were supposed to have a relaxing evening. The idea of walking down the hall and knocking on Natasha’s door pestered you all day; maybe you two could go for drinks, or have a night in. But you didn’t even get to take your coat off before chaos struck.

It happened so quickly. You put your bag on the bed, then there was a crash in the kitchen. Someone was in your apartment. You didn’t even remember dialing her number, but your only New York contact picked up in seconds. “Natasha,” your voice was quiet as you held the phone to your cheek, tears brimming in your eyes as you hid beside your bed. “Someone’s here, call 911.” Another crash. You winced. Natasha breathed heavily into the phone like she was already running, yet didn’t say a word before the line hung up. You assumed she was dialing the authorities as quickly as possible. You were wrong.

Crash. Your head fell into your knees. This was how you were going to die; not by falling off of a roof, but by being too defenseless to do anything. Smash. They were looting the place, but the next sound you heard wasn’t the echo of dishes breaking— it was the grunt of a woman. Natasha, you quickly realized as something thumped against the wall. She came here to defend you, but why? How could someone be so brave to fight against a few apartment thieves? Why didn’t she just call the police?

Silence. Oh god, how you hoped they didn’t hurt her. Your head was fully in your knees by now, red marks being left in the palms of your hands by how tight you were holding yourself. The bedroom door squeaked open, and your heart nearly stopped. “Are you okay?” The low raspy voice brought air into your lungs— it was Natasha, not one of the perpetrators. Raising your head, you looked up at the redhead who appeared without a scratch. She bent down beside you, her hand resting on your knee as you caught your breath.

“How did you..?” You muttered as tears fell onto your cheeks. “Are they gone?” You looked up to see her nodding and offering a hand. Taking it, you stood on wobbling legs as she took you out into the kitchen. With a racing heart, you didn’t know what to say. Did she scare the thieves off? The silence was ringing in your ears, yet you had no idea what would be lying in your kitchen as Natasha walked you out of the bedroom.

Two intruders, dressed in black, both unconscious and bleeding on the floor. Your hand covered your mouth in shock; it was almost more distressing than the broken dishes and littered belongings everywhere. “What the hell…” You slowly looked over to the redhead, who was fronting a stoic expression. Whoever that woman was, she somehow took out both of the criminals. “Who the hell are you?” You locked eyes with the woman before you who was a friend mere moments ago, but now felt like a stranger. As relieving as it was she dealt with the intruders, you had no clue if she’d be one too.

She inhaled sharply, eyeing both the intruders as if they’d stand back up for another round. “We need to get you out of here, c’mon.” Her hand found your shoulder as she softly pushed you toward the door, her urgency rising.

“No!” You shouted, turning on your feet to face her again. “Tell me what the hell just happened.” With words like ice, you stood frozen as the woman who seemed to be in a rush remained silent for a moment.

“I don’t work at a law firm,” She breathed. “I work for S.H.I.E.L.D.. This wasn’t a coincidence, someone’s after you. I don’t want to wait and find out what they’ll do next.” S.H.I.E.L.D., as in the big organization of trained agents? Natasha was an agent, and suddenly everything was making sense. Her insane ability to read small details; her knack for offering support; her ability to take out two enemies in seconds. You knew it was likely she was undercover, yet you still felt betrayed.

Regardless, the threatening manor of her words took precedence above all else. “Someone’s after me?” You questioned, watching Natasha’s every expression. What could someone possibly want with you? You had only lived here for a few days, yet whoever organized this clearly wanted to take care of it as soon as possible.

She nodded once firmly. “Yes, now move before I move you.” In that moment, you knew you didn’t have a choice— and that above all else, your life was about to get even crazier.

[cheonstapes]

ok but nerd!miguel & piss kink.. idk.. thoughts r thunking..

(he luvs the humiliation of it all. that’s all ima say.)

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘GOLDEN SHOWERS’ (*≧∀≦*)

a/n ~ this exactly what you think it is, digital footprint goes crazy. THANK YOU ANNONIEE!!!!! love you🩷 nerd!miguel creds to @nymphomatique 💞

pairing; nerd!miguel x rich!fem!reader

wc; 800+

cw; SMUT!! filth, miguel and reader are a bit drunk, literally just piss and fucking. NAWT PROOFREAD - i finished this on the train

This was not how tonight was supposed to go.

He had took the initiative for the first time in your relationship, inviting you to his dorm for a little private party to celebrate you passing your recent test — one he helped you study for. What he wasn’t anticipating was half of your class showing up too. His heart was pounding out of his chest, fingers shaking slightly as he gripped the red cup in his hand.

The whole night he’d been downing drink after drink, the small amount of people doing nothing to calm his nerves — the music was booming, bodies grinding against each other, the sickening smell of alcohol in the air. “Heyyyy, Miggy! Thanks for throwing this party for me, you’re too sweet, baby.” He couldn’t help but blush at the slurred praise, regardless of if he actually intended to throw this party or not.

Your smile was just too pretty. Even under the dark lighting, he could see the shimmering of your tongue piercing — smiley poking out beneath your glossy lips. “You’re…You’re welcome.” The closer you get, the more his stomach falls to his ass. The drink in his hand goes down somewhat smoothly as the cup in crushed between his strong fingers, the same ones making their way to your exposed hips.

“Oh, someone’s feeling bold, hm? You wanna dance, then let’s dance.”

The way your hips swayed against his own was sinfully delicious, his mind slightly fuzzy as the substance intoxicated his thoughts. It was hard to stay focused regardless when having some as beautiful as you throwing your ass back against him in front of all these people — but he’s had one too many drinks to give a fuck about the stares, all he wants is you.

So he has you, bent over his bathroom sink — your heels scraping against the paint of his bathtub. “F-Fuuuck, miggy! Slow d — nngh — own.” The music was loud enough that no one could hear the way he was absolutely ruining your little pussy, a concoction of your shared fluids dripping out of you and down your sore thighs. Your tits were so soft, his thumbs gently caressing the cool barbells — tugging on them to bring out your cute little whimpers.

“My…shit — my bad, mommy. ‘S just, t-this pussy’s too fuckin’ tight — can’t…can’t stop.” Not that he wanted too, despite your complaints you couldn’t stop sucking his fat cock right back inside of you. It felt like you were wringing him dry, suctioning out everything he had to give you. At his current state, he knew he wasn’t gonna last very long — but poor Miggy couldn’t really tell the difference between the sensations he was feeling right now.

It was a familiar feeling nonetheless, the pressure on his lower stomach, the clenching, throbbing — but those drinks were starting to catch up with him, fast. The pressure on his bladder was getting worse with each slam of his hips against your ass, sending tremors throughout him. “M-Mommy? I’m — I think…’m gonna - ugh, shit!” You knew, from the amount of liquid you saw him consuming — you knew. “Gonna what, pretty boy? You gonna cum, or is there something you’re not tellin’ me?”

Jesus, your smile. The way you looked back at him, gripping onto the sink for leverage to grind back against him — sinking the blunt tip of his cock righttt against your womb. He cheeks were flushed both from the alcohol and from embarrassment, he was not about to tell you what you wanted to hear — you clearly had clocked on already so what’s the point of telling you what you already know?

His hips stuttered, the force of his release threatening to push his cock out of your stained hole. “God, you’re so dirty, Migs — ‘s like you’ve been waiting to do this, hm?” It felt so strange, the sudden warmness coating your walls as a steady stream of his piss left his sore tip. “S-Shit, sorry, I…I couldn’t control it.” He quickly pulled out, letting it drip onto the floor. Miguel wasn’t really sorry though, not with the way you were clenching sporadically around nothing — the look you gave him the moment he filled you up.

His mind is a vault of nasty, nasty things he wants to do to you — the sight of you now has him unconsciously stroking his soaked length, he was already so close to cumming anyway. But of course, he always, always, came inside his pretty mommy — can’t let it go to waste when he could be giving you a little baby instead. Squeezing his base, he pushed himself back inside of you — the fucked out moan you let out making his breath hitch.

The fat of your ass rippled against his pelvis as he pounded back into you, a messy mix of his cum and piss creaming where you two were connected. His hands anchored your waist, arching your back so he can fuck himself that much deeper in you.

“One more, mommy — let me fill you up one more time.”

-i’m sorry 😔

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Shipping Out

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Drinking, smoking, public sex, smut. Word count: ~1.5k

Summary: Just trust me on this one, and read all the way to the end.

Author's note: A little birthday treat for @bottlesandbarricades. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

The pub is crowded and noisy, the humidity of the air making her carefully coiffed curls cling to the back of her neck with perspiration. It’s not often that she frequents this side of Manchester, but the change of scenery is a refreshing switch of pace to the monotony of everyday life. Laughter, music and the clinking of glasses is preferable to the whir of the factory sewing machines.

She taps her red lacquered nails against the wood of the bar, wrinkling her nose at the stickiness of the wooden surface beneath her palm. If the frequency with which it’s wiped down is any indication of the attentiveness of the barkeep then she’s in for a long wait for a drink.

Sighing, she fishes her cigarette case from her handbag, flipping it open and plucking one out. No sooner has she placed it between her lips than a hand is clicking a flame to life before the end of it, turning it a glowing cherry red. She casts her gaze upwards through the steady plume of smoke, met by twinkling blue eyes and a cocky smirk, as the chivalrous stranger deposits his lighter back into his trouser pocket and regards her with a tip of his head.

“Thanks,” she says with an easy smile, taking the smoke between her fingers and exhaling a tight line of vapour up towards the ceiling.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies with a wink. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this then?”

God, that’s a terrible line.

She bites back a laugh, and decides to humour him. “Trying to get a drink, service in here is awful though.”

He purses his lips, eyes raking over her from head to toe, before nodding. “Can’t be having that.” Slapping a hand against the bartop, he calls out, “Oi! My lady friend and I are dying of thirst over here! Anyone serving?”

She raises her eyebrows in disbelief, but doesn’t have to wait long until a middle aged, irritated looking woman makes her way around the corner to the pair of them and grumpily takes their order. She’s long since finished her cigarette by the time the glasses are placed heavily down in front of them.

He doesn’t even ask what she wants to drink; she ends up with a gin and tonic, while he has a pint. It’s what she would have ordered anyway, but the bold presumption unsettles her regardless.

Sipping her drink, she relishes in the way the fizzy bitterness envelopes her tongue as she takes in what he’s wearing; navy blue slacks and a matching long sleeved smock, with a white striped collar.

“Shouldn’t you be on a boat somewhere, sailor?”

He grins, setting his glass down on a dog eared beer mat. “Just so happens I’ve been given a night of shore leave. I ship out again tomorrow.”

“Lucky me,” she says with a coy smile.

“If you play your cards right you might be.”

There’s that smirk again. She watches as he takes out a packet of Lucky Strike, perching one between his lips before offering one to her. She gratefully accepts, and he’s quick to light it for her, before doing the same to his own.

Every table is full, but she doesn’t mind, she’s content just to prop up the bar with him, ignoring the ache of her feet as they lapse into effortless conversation. He’s handsome, if a little overeager and she pays rapt attention as he entertains her with stories of his time aboard the HMS Exeter.

She’s on her third gin and tonic of the evening when he leans in to whisper to her.

“So, I might not see another woman for months after tonight. You gonna help me make it one to remember?”

Feeling her cheeks heat up, she giggles softly. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way for you to thank me for my loyal service to our country,” he tells her, taking her hand and leading her out of the pub.

Allowing the gin to fuel her confidence, before she can change her mind, she lets him guide her outside. Even met with the sobering chill of the night air, she offers up no protest when he pulls her into the ginnel, the brickwork biting into her back as he pushes her up against the wall and captures her lips with her.

It’s a messy kiss, moist and desperate with need. He tastes of beer and tobacco as she welcomes his tongue against her own with parted lips, her fingertips sliding over the breadth of his shoulders and up into the cropped softness of his sandy coloured hair.

Pressing tighter against her, he groans appreciatively, mouth moving from hers to travel a path across her jaw and down her neck, as his hands find their way up her skirt. One teases the top of her stocking while the other presses against her clothed core, making her gasp.

His touch is hurried, not as thorough as she’d like, yet she feels a growing stickiness between her thighs regardless. The warmth of his fingers and lips against her makes her feel desired, and she is lightheaded, almost giddy, to see the effect she’s having on him.

Instinctively, she parts her legs wider as he dips beneath her knicker elastic, stroking eagerly through her folds.

“Christ, you’re soaked,” he rasps against the shell of her ear, “bet you’d let me fuck you right here, if I wanted, wouldn’t you?”

She bites her bottom lip, stifling her quiet whimper as his strokes against her cause her to throb. “Please…”

“Since you asked nicely…” He pulls back, blue eyes dark with intent as he makes quick work of unbuckling his belt, lowering his trousers and briefs just enough to free his erection.

Even in the darkness of the alleyway she can see that he’s thick and heavy, and he pumps lazily at himself, while his free hand reaches into his pocket.

“Leave that,” she tells him, as she spots the foil of the sheath wrapper.

He raises an eyebrow, pursing his lips as he stares at her. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” she whispers.

That’s all the confirmation he needs, slipping the packet away and surging forward. He pulls her underwear to the side, grasping the base of himself and pushes forcefully into her in one motion.

The movement knocks all the air from her lungs. Though she is wet, the public nature of their tryst leaves little time for him to prepare her fully, the luxury of time is not on their side, but in their desperation neither one of them cares. It stings, the fullness of him pushing against her, but it’s a pleasurable hurt.

Her breaths leave her mouth in shallow pants as he pistons his hips into her, lifting one of her legs to hook her thigh around his hip. She wraps her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he rocks into her, his forehead pushed up against hers.

“Filthy slut,” he grits out, “bet you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yeah…” she whines, feeling his fingers press tighter into the meat of her thigh.

His brow furrows, and he grunts, his pace becoming sloppy and erratic. While the ache builds steadily inside of her, she worries he’ll finish before she does. The thought is fleeting, and as though he’s read her mind, the hand not gripping her thigh slips between them, fingers rubbing tight circles against her bud. She clenches around him, the added stimulation serving to intensify the tightening in her lower belly.

“That’s it,” he mutters, “come on.”

He pulsates inside of her, knocking against a spot that makes her tip over the edge suddenly, and she lets out a choked cry, a rolling wave of weightlessness travelling from her head to her toes. Her walls spasm around him and he pushes himself in to the hilt, a groan of relief escaping him as he spills himself inside of her.

They stay like that for a few moments, both catching their breath as their bodies relax. He grins as he pulls back slightly, before leaning in to pepper her face with soft, playful kisses.

“Tommy!” She huffs a laugh, swatting at his shoulder.

He slips out of her, stepping back to tuck himself away and fasten his belt. “Thought we weren’t supposed to be using our names? Part of the fun was pretending we don’t know each other.”

She scoffs, putting her gusset back into place as she feels his spend start to drip out of her, and smooths her skirt back down. “Think you ruined that when you ordered my drink without asking what I wanted. A stranger wouldn’t know I like gin and tonic!”

Tom rolls his eyes and chuckles, offering his arm for her to take. “Right, right. Well, I’ll remember for next time. Whatever you need for me to fulfill your fantasies.”

“Right now, my only fantasy is being at home in bed. That pub is horrible,” she tells him as they begin to walk down the street arm in arm.

“You wanted the uniform. I wasn’t gonna take us somewhere someone we know would see and take the piss.”

She laughs, gripping his arm tighter as she looks up at him. “Was fun though, wasn’t it?”

He gazes down at her with hooded eyes as they continue to walk. “I’ve had worse nights.”

Read on AO3

More Tom fics

[cozage]

Hi Coza 🥰. How’s everything going? I hope you’re well!

I would love to request something for Zoro, Luffy, and any other character of your choice; and how they react to indirect kisses? Perhaps they’re at the crushing stage still or just recently started dating and haven’t kissed yet. So something like sharing a drink, chapstick, or they take a bite of food after you do. Something like that. I hope that makes sense 😭 I thought it’s be cute and I love me a flustered Zoro 🤭 no worries if you can’t do this. Thanks for your time regardless❤️ you’re my favorite writer for one piece! ILY ❤️❤️

A/N: this was ADORABLE ily you for this anon Characters: gn reader x Zoro, Luffy, Law Word Count: 730

Indirect Kisses

Zoro

“Hey, can I use that?” You pointed at his chapstick that he was applying to his lips. 

Zoro froze. “What? No! This is mine!”

“Come on!” you whined, reaching for it. “My chapstick is all the way downstairs. Just let me use it!”

“No!” He held the chapstick just out of your reach. “I don’t want your germs all over it!”

“Germs?!” you yelled. “I’m cleaner than you are! Give it here!”

You jumped on him, grabbing his arm to try and pull his hand down. You knew it was pointless. Zoro had more muscles in his one arm than you did in your whole body. 

“Listen, I’m not sharing!” he yelled back. “Your lips aren’t touching my chapstick!”

“Fine!” you hissed. You grabbed his shirt and pulled him into you, your lips crashing against his. 

You could feel him tense in reaction to your lips touching his, but he didn’t pull away. After a few seconds, you finally pulled away, releasing your grip on his shirt. You rubbed your top and bottom lips together and smirked at him. 

“Thanks for the chapstick!” you sang, skipping away from him. 

He watched you go, baffled by your boldness. He could feel the tips of his ears and his cheeks growing red at the realization of what you had just done, and a piece of him was glad he fought so hard against letting you use his chapstick.

Luffy

“How’s your ice cream?” you asked, swirling your tongue around your cone. 

“It’s the best! Wanna try?” Luffy asked, holding his own cone out towards you. 

You were shocked that Luffy would be so willing to share food, and you didn’t want to give him too much time to reconsider. Your lips quickly pressed against his ice cream and you licked the side of his frozen dessert. 

He had chosen double fudge, and it was aptly named. Chocolate flooded your mouth, and you gave out a soft moan in response. 

“That’s good,” you agreed. “Wanna try mine?”

“Yeah!” Luffy cheered, practically bouncing in place. 

You held it out of him, and you could tell he was trying to restrain himself as he took a giant lick of your summer peach ice cream. He ended up taking an entire scoop off, but you were silently relieved about that. There was no way you were going to finish that all before it melted. 

“I like that a lot!” Luffy said, with that giant grin on his face. “Hey, we ate after each other. That means we basically kissed each other, right?”

“What?!” You looked at him slightly alarmed, blush spreading across your cheeks. “No way Luffy, that is not what it means.”

“Oh,” he said, sounding slightly disappointed. He stopped walking, and you stopped next to him, looking at him. 

“What’s up, Lu?”

He leaned into your face quickly, giving you a hard peck on the lips. A smile re-emerged across his face again. “Well, now we’ve kissed for real! You can’t deny that!”

Law

“Hey!” you cheered, walking back into the room. You picked up your cup off of the table, taking a long drink of it.

“Y/N-ya,” Law said. “That’s my drink.”

You immediately froze, everyone looking between you and Law. They knew how much of a germaphobe he was. 

“Oh! Sorry!” You handed the cup back to him, wiping your upper lip. “It’s really good!”

Law clicked his tongue in disapproval, cautiously eying the rim of the cup. “We really shouldn’t be drinking after one another. Causes diseases to spread more quickly.”

You looked at him, confused with his words. “Are you sick?” you asked. 

“Well, no-”

“Great! I’m in perfect health too!” you smiled at him, trying to ease the awkwardness. “You can run a scan on me if you want.”

He blushed at your offer. “That won’t be necessary.”

You shrugged. “Alright. If you don't want your drink because I-”

“It’s fine,” he said. He took a quick sip of his drink to prove his words. 

The whole crew’s mouths dropped open. They had never known Trafalgar Law to be a man to drink after anyone. 

“You guys kind of kissed, you know,” Shachi said, cheekily grinning at you both. 

“We did not!” you both yelled in unison, cheeks turning beet red.

[globalrebrand]

Happy Valentines Day! with Crewel

Warnings: Reader is wearing a dress and heels, no pronouns used.

A/N: Fluff, fluff, fluff!

Divus didn't do platitudes. And he certainly didn't do cliches.

As a bachelor he was bold, daring and highly nuanced in his airs. Something like love wouldn't change that. He insisted it wouldn't. You two would remain in love but retain that flavor that made you individuals. You didn't have kowtow to tradition, and certainly not a contrived artificial event like valentines day.

Divus was inclined to ignore the day entirely. But then...the ballet in the capital of the Queendom of Roses was a reviving a performance you had mentioned to be your favorite. He simply had to surprise you with tickets and, then! Your favorite ballerina was coincidentally slated to open the season on Valentine's day, so naturally no other night would do.

And well, after the show you would likely both be hungry....and if you were already dressed up for the ballet why not find and equally sumptuous place to dine after? He happened to know an incredibly excellent restaurant, intimate and small, built in the conservatory of an old city manor that had since been converted into a private members club, of which of course your handsome new beau was a member. Only twelve seats in the entire restaurant and an absolutely earth shatteringly delicious prix fixe menu. Oh! And it just had the best Lambrusco, he'd been trying to source a bottle for you for months but the supplier kept a tight lock on the distribution. That settled that then. Obviously, no other restaurant would do.

Well dinner and a show, or rather a show and dinner was a bit traditional, but Divus knew you'd be delighted, regardless. You weren't as prideful and stringent about such matters even if you too had some quite opinionated stances on style and taste as well. And he's proved himself right when he made you privy to his plans and you'd replied with a giddy squeal over the phone. "I know just what to wear!" you'd said. And he was eager to see what you'd come up with. Then you'd followed with, "I didn't think you were the type to care about Valentine's Day?" and you were right. He wasn't, but while Divus wanted to assure you this was a one time thing that happened to be the result of many happy coincidences, he couldn't bring himself to correct you. "I thought you knew better than to judge a book by it's cover." He replied. You merely chuckled and reiterated you excitement.

With the plans made, the event lingered over you both, a distant date which only grew in anticipation with your shared enthusiasm as it grew nearer. Though he pried and probed casually about your outfit choice you kept your lips sealed. To the shock of no one, Divus also wasn't a fan of surprises but he found in this one instance it didn't bother him as much as it usually might. With you, he was learning a lot of about himself and what he did and didn't do.

Now that the long awaited evening in question was upon you, Divus waited for you on the steps of the theater. He was having trouble keeping his smile at bay and while the urge to light a cigarette came upon him he let it go, knowing you'd chide him for it. Well that and he didn't want anything to take away from the aroma of the flowers he'd procured for you. Red roses would entirely a bridge too far, he'd never recover from the shame of being so horribly ordinary, so he'd chosen a suitably stylish arrangement of blush, white and burgundy peonies, orchids, ranunculus, sweet peas and amaranthus, sweetly bundled with pink ribbon.

He was looking the wrong direction when you called his name. Glancing over his shoulder he almost dropped your bouquet at the sight.

A pale pink overcoat, draped open to expose your dress: a red silk slip evocative of vintage lingerie. It hit at your mid-thigh exposing pretty legs, drawing his eye down to your shoes, elegant pair of red kitten heels.

He was speechless. All he could do was draw you close with a arm around your waist. You invite him in your space and caress his jaw lightly with a gloved hand. "Well...? How do I look?" You attempt to pull away but Divus doesn't let you.

"You took my breath away" He admits, enchanted. The platitude spills from his lips before he can stop it.

"Are these for me?" You point to the flowers.

"Who else but you?" The grin on your features has a matching expression growing across his features. He hands you the bouquet and you cup a ranunculus and inhale. The cliche of flowers on valentines day isn't lost on him, but Divus is finding it very hard to care as he takes in your precious expression, wind bitten cheeks and sparkling eyes.

The sound of a bell chimes outside the theater. 15 minutes to show time.

You make idle chatter as Divus ushers you up the grand stone steps and through centuries old carved bronze doors.

"You know, I didn't think you'd care at all for valentines day." You tell him.

"And why's that?" He questions. A little test he's sure you'll pass. You know exactly why.

"Well I thought you would probably think its sappy and horrible cliche. Which it is! I agree, but well...I suppose I'm just pleased that you do. That is to say, you do care about valentines day." You punctuate your statement with a squeeze of his hand as if to say, 'this is nice.'

"I wouldn't if it wasn't for you." He confesses a few minutes later as he pulls your coat from your shoulders and throws his fur (an all black mink) overtop and hands it to the gentleman at the coat check. He likes the image of your things together. They just make sense.

"Well thank you. It couldn't have been easy fighting with your pride for my sake." You tease lightly.

Hardly, he scoffs. Then softer, he says "it was as easy as breathing."

You feel your cheeks warm.

"We should get to our seats." Divus adds, his tone its normal controlled baritone but when you peek at him, you can see the bright blush on his cheeks as he adjusts his tie, almost as if he too were taken aback by his candor just moments before.

In that moment you decide they were wrong. All of them about Divus. He was as caring, thoughtful and kind as the best of them.

And in that moment Divus decides he was very very wrong about platitudes, cliches and admittedly, wrong about Valentine's day. They all certainly have a time and a place when he's with you.

[ahqkas]

Can I request kissing headcanons for Charles Smith and Arthur Morgan with gn!s/o please?

THE KISS OF LIFE ; arthur morgan & charles smith

PAIRING! arthur morgan x gn!reader, charles smith x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS! how his kisses constantly bring out the joy of life

RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2 MASTERLIST!

ARTHUR MORGAN IS A ROUGH MAN. Everyone knows. From the people he considers family to the strangers he meets on the streets. His shell is strong to keep him intact but even the strongest breaks.

To you, he’s hopelessly devoted.

His kisses carry the scent of nature - fresh pine, flowers’ scent. They also carry the spicy side as well - the smoke of cigarettes, the faintest hint of gunpowder. The characters of his kisses are the same. They can be gentle and sweet and they can be rough and desperate.

He’s a man of a few words, but his kisses show exactly what he wants to say. A kiss can communicate thousands of words.

A protective edge seeps to his kisses when he returns from a particularly dangerous mission, where his wits and strength were tested to the maximum. He’s gripping at your waist, thighs, and jaw that night as if reassuring himself he’s really there and you won’t just vanish into the thin air.

Life with the Van der Linde gang means moments alone are rare, especially with the noisy members. Arthur often steals kisses in hidden places or when no one’s looking. He doesn’t need to have Sean hanging on his shoulders, chuckling about forbidden love. But those kisses turn into something else quicker than anything when the moon is high enough on the dark sky. His affection is no longer timid but rather bold, messy kisses placed anywhere the skin of your body shows up uncovered by clothing. He’s making up for the times he couldn’t kiss you openly and he sure does know the way to convince you.

CHARLES, KNOWN FOR HIS CALM DEMEANOR, APPROACHES EVERY KISS WITH THE SAME THOUGHTFUL INTENSITY. When he’s kissing you, it feels like he’s truly present in the moment, giving you all of his attention and care. His kisses are slow. Each one a vow of loyalty and love.

The man’s kisses are often followed by the essence of nature as he’s always spending the time outside in the wilderness. There’s a distinct freshness to them, a mix of earth and pine. When his lips meet yours, it’s like suddenly being surrounded by the tall trees and growing plants. He’s always warm and inviting for you, and there’s a sense of peace that comes with every kiss, as if he’s sharing a piece of his own inner calmness with you.

He cups your face every time he kisses you with a gentle hand, his thumbs softly tracing your cheeks as his lips brush against yours.

However, when passion takes over, Charles’ kisses become more intense, more needy. His usually composed behavior crumbles and even through the thought of it seems scary, he doesn’t mind when it’s with you. He pulls you closer, trying to show you things he can’t say.

Regardless of the situation, kisses with Charles always leave you feeling cherished and loved. He has a way of making you feel like you’re standing on top of the world. Whenever it’s a soft peck on the forehead to soothe your worries or a passionate kiss that sets your heart racing, Charles enjoys all of it.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified.

[jungkoode]

FUCK ME UP | FRAGMENTS

˗ˏˋ whiteboard chronicles ˎˊ˗

⋆｡°✩ story details ✩°｡⋆

collection: APARTMENT 6B SHENANIGANS (FMU)

wordcount: 1,1k

⋆｡°✩ read more ✩°｡⋆

main story: fuck me up

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✧ author's note ✧

OKAY SO. This was not planned. I mean, yes, it kind of was planned because it WAS one of my concept ideas as you have probably seen in the index. BUT.

I wasn't expecting to write this on a random ass Tuesday during my break??? This is the silliest idea, but it formed in my mind and I just had to write this down. So you're welcome for random FMU content on a Tuesday?

Anyway, enjoy this goofy ass drabble. I know I laughed while writing it. Hope you laugh while reading it!

The whiteboard hanging beside the fridge was the first thing you noticed when you stumbled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed at 7 AM on your fourth day in the apartment. It wasn’t there the day before. Neither was the note written in precise, controlled handwriting:

“Whoever left their dishes in the sink overnight: Don’t.” - Yoongi

You stared at it for a beat too long, coffee mug halfway to your lips. Well. That was new.

And completely directed at you, because you definitely left a bowl and spoon in the sink the night before. You glanced over your shoulder, but the apartment was quiet. Yoongi must have already left for his early client meeting.

Before you could stop yourself, you picked up the black marker dangling from its magnetic holder and wrote in your loose, slightly messy lowercase:

“sorry! won’t happen again” - y/n

Two days later, you were greeted by another note:

“The garbage doesn’t take itself out. Neither do I.” - Yoongi

Beneath it, in chaotic, barely legible scrawl that you immediately recognized as Jungkook’s:

“i took it out mon. phoenix’s turn” - jk

You rolled your eyes and added:

“bold of u to assume i generate garbage. that’s a YOU problem mf” - y/n

By the end of your first week, the whiteboard had evolved:

“Stop drinking my almond milk. Buy your own.” - Yoongi

“wasn’t me lol. phoenix sus af. caught her red-handed no cap 🧢 ” - jk

And yeah. There was actually a horribly scribbled cap doodle. 

“i was testing it to see if it was spoiled bc im nice. you’re welcome” - y/n

“It was a new carton.” - Yoongi

“… whoops?” - y/n

The second week brought escalation:

“Bathroom schedule. RESPECT IT.” - Yoongi

“phoenix spent 40 mins in there this am. i was LATE. so NOT the vibes” - jk

“some of us have actual hair to wash, jungkook. not my fault” - y/n

“some of us have JOBS to get to fr fr” - jk

“Some of us need SILENCE to work. Take this argument elsewhere.” - Yoongi

Day ten of cohabitation:

“Griffin knocked over my coffee mug AGAIN. Control your cat.” - Yoongi

“bold of u to assume griffin can be controlled” - jk

“he only knocks over YOUR stuff bc you claim to hate him. he knows. cats always know” - y/n

“I do hate him.” - Yoongi

That evening, you returned to find a new addition: a small, surprisingly detailed doodle of what appeared to be Griffin with devil horns, signed by Yoongi. 

Underneath, Jungkook had drawn a halo and angel wings around it with “no lies detected” scrawled beside it.

By day twelve:

“If I hear ‘Wonderwall’ on that guitar ONE MORE TIME at 2 AM there will be consequences." - Yoongi

“it was ‘sweet child o mine’ actually smh. musical education lacking???” - jk

“regardless: rogue, some of us sleep at normal human hours” - y/n

“some of us didn’t bang their headboard against the wall at 1 am. pot, kettle, iykyk” - jk

You flushed bright red when you read this. That was ONE TIME when you were rearranging your furniture, but of course, he’d make it sound like… Jesus.

“i was MOVING FURNITURE.” - y/n

“suuuuuuuuure, phoenix” - jk

“Both of you: headphones exist. Use them.” - Yoongi

The next morning brought a new development:

“COFFEE MAKER RULES:” 1. Rinse it after use 2. Don’t change my settings 3. If you empty it, refill the water “This is not a democracy.” - JK

Jungkook had actually used proper capitalization for his coffee rules, which told you exactly how serious he was about his precious brewing machine.

You couldn’t resist responding:

“counterpoint: it’s just coffee bro” - y/n

His reply came quickly:

“HERESY” - jk

“Some of us need coffee to tolerate living with you two.” - Yoongi

That afternoon, Yoongi left a new note:

“Refrigerator organization system is now ENFORCED. Labels provided.” - Yoongi

You came home later to find Jungkook had added:

“phoenix labeled my protein shakes ‘gym bro juice’ - v mature” - jk

You couldn’t help grinning as you added:

“if the shoe fits, rogue. and it does, along with your massive protein powder collection that’s taking over the kitchen” - y/n

The next morning, his response was waiting:

“my protein powder keeps me strong enough to help when u can’t reach the top shelf” - jk

You narrowed your eyes before writing:

“i will climb the counter like a normal person, thx” - y/n

By evening, Yoongi had added:

“That’s how you fell last week.” - Yoongi

You scowled at the betrayal.

Day fourteen—today—you had woken up to find a weekend notice:

“OUT OF TOWN THIS WEEKEND. Keep the apartment standing.” - Yoongi

You grabbed the marker, adding:

“roger that, captain obvious” - y/n

By mid-morning, Jungkook had responded:

“no promises. phoenix brings out the worst in me ngl” - jk

You snorted and added:

“mutual, rogue” - y/n

Now, you stand before the whiteboard, marker in hand, examining two weeks’ worth of passive-aggressive notes. It’s become something of a gallery of snark, a dysfunctional family bulletin board.

You find yourself smiling at Jungkook’s chaotic scrawl, full of abbreviations and lowercase letters, contrasting with Yoongi’s precise penmanship and perfect grammar. The way the three of you communicate through this ridiculous medium is strangely… comfortable? Not that you’d ever admit it.

You’ve already noticed patterns: Yoongi writes in black marker exclusively, with perfect punctuation. Jungkook grabs whatever color is available, usually purple or blue, his writing tilted and messy, full of text-speak and abbreviations. You tend toward green or red, your lowercase letters rounded but clear.

You'd be lying if you said you don't kind of enjoy this weird, annotated glimpse into your shared lives.

Or how Jungkook’s ridiculous coffee snobbery—serious enough to warrant actual capitalization—makes you roll your eyes and snort at the same time.

Or how Yoongi pretends to hate Griffin while his latest note passive-aggressively mentioned seeing cat treats left out on the counter “for the demon cat I allegedly don’t care about.”

Or how, despite all the bickering and boundary-setting and passive-aggressive notes…

You probably wouldn’t trade this chaotic whiteboard for anything.

Not that you’ll ever tell them that. Instead, you uncap the marker again and write:

“whoever used the last of the toilet paper without replacing it: you’re dead to me” - y/n

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder what ridiculous note will appear next in this strange, dysfunctional roommate communication system you’ve all somehow adopted.

Maybe it’s not the worst way to avoid actually talking to each other.

Maybe it’s even a little fun.

But you’ll keep that thought to yourself.

index

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© jungkoode 2025

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[maryangelex]

Never Let Me Go (Pt. 6)

John Price x f!Reader

Summary: the next morning with Price settles you're his girl

warnings/tags: nsfw!!, creampie, praising, handjob, p in v sex, fingering, cowgirl

a/n: it's finally here!!! im sorry for the wait!! and this will be the last chapter of this series :,) i feel like there isn't more to say for john and this reader, so i hope you lot enjoyed it!!

song for this chapter is She by Harry Styles!!

You woke up the next morning with an unfamiliar warmth next to you. The feeling of a solid mass pressing against your back; a large appendage that resembled an arm draped over your waist. Your eyes adjusted to the sunlight that penetrated through the curtains on your window.

You brought a hand to your face and rubbed at your eyes before looking down to find a man’s arm was what was anchoring you in your sleeping position. John’s arm, you reckoned, and the color of your cheeks was a stinging red. You bit your lip to withhold the smile that grew on your face as the memories of last night flooded back into your mind.

It was difficult to contain yourself from squealing giddily at the realization.

With as much care as you could muster, you gently and slowly rotated your body under the crushing weight of his arm to face him. John stirred in his sleep lightly, making you freeze and hold your breath for a second. But he only sighed and stayed in his peaceful sleep, out like a light. You turned fully to face him, your eyes gleaming at the sight of his face.

His lips were in a pout, slightly parted as light snores escaped them. His lashes were long and fanning over the apples of his cheeks almost. You’ve never seen someone look…so pretty, while they slept.

One of your hands came up to his face, your gentle fingertips dared to ghost over his features. You carefully brushed the messy hair on his forehead, then trailed down to trace his long nose, his bearded cheeks, his velvety lips.

Would it be wrong to kiss him, you wondered. You didn’t want to disrupt his slumber, you liked the intimacy of being bundled up in his arms as he was in such a vulnerable state. But you dared to regardless. Once again with the gentlest movements, you planted your lips over his cheek. You took a beat to test if that woke him up, but all you got in return was the tightening of his grip on your waist.

It only encouraged you further, and you followed with another kiss, this time to his forehead, your hand caressing his hair once more. He stirred a bit more and your smile grew wider, your heart was fluttering with adoration.

God he’s just perfect, all you want to do is kiss every pretty thing about him.

You went to lean in a third time but a gravelly hum stopped you on your tracks. John’s eyes stayed closed, but a smile tugged at his cheeks and a husky chuckle rumbled within him. His arms encapsulated you impossible tighter and closer to him.

“I could get used to wakin’ up like this,” he said, his voice raspy with sleep and almost a whisper.

You giggled and matched his low tone, “morning, John.”

He adjusted his head on the pillow and let out a pleased sigh. One of his eyes opened up to a mere squint to look at you, the rays of sun making his crystal eyes shine. He grumbled out a good morning

You cupped his cheek, your thumb caressing his skin. His large palm rubbed the skin of your bare back, making goosebumps scatter around your body.

Your front was pressed flush against his chest and abdomen and, well, you shouldn’t be surprised at the feeling of his morning wood pressing against your belly. You bit your lip at the sensation, feeling your core grow slick.

John chuckled again, “Sorry, love…can’t help it.” His voice was a slur as he gradually began to wake him more and more.

“Don’t mind at all,” you cooed. You felt bold enough to snake your hand down his front until it reached his pelvis. You stopped there, and your fingers raked through the patch of course hair that was forested there.

John let out a pleasant, heavy sigh. His member twitched against you, as if asking to be touched.

Your eyes were fixated on his face, watching the microexpressions as he reacted to your touch.

“About last night…” you started, “is that something you’d like to do again?”

John’s smile grew into a smirk, his nails ran up and down your back tenderly, “would you, princess?”

You responded by letting your hand trail lower; dainty fingers wrapping around the base of his hardened cock and giving him one, two painfully slow pumps.

John sucked in a breath at the feeling, a hand now coming under your hair to hold the nape of your neck.

“Does that answer your question?” you teased.

"Bloody hell, love," he breathed, his husky voice almost a growl as the grip on your neck tightened, "what I wouldn't give to wake up to you like this every mornin'."

His words made you melt. The idea of having John like this, the realization that last night was most definitely not a one-time thing, and that you had a man like him eating off the palm of your hand; all yours to enjoy.

It only spurred you on, and you let out a soft mewl in response as your hand stroked up and down his shaft, watching as his lips parted and hearing his breath hitch at the feeling of you.

John's other hand snaked down to your thigh, grabbing the underside of it to lay it over his hip. He pulled you closer as you worked on him, his nose pressing against yours before he leaned in to kiss you. You felt the hairs of his mustache graze your upper lip, his plush lips against yours turning into a sloppy kiss when his tongue pried into your mouth. Now you knew he was growing desperate.

The hand on your thigh traveled up your quad, squeezing and massaging it before it made its way to your sex. You were soaked and bare and the feeling of his hand soothingly massaging you through your folds made your whole body shiver.

It made you think about the night prior, how John had been the first man to make you feel this good, this satisfied. Like the strange loneliness you had felt when you first met him was completely gone; like he's been the missing piece in your sweet but mundane life. The man set you alight like a burning pyre whenever he was around, more so when he put those tender but calloused hands on you.

You keened at the feeling of his middle and ring finger pads rubbing tight circles on your clit, spreading your slick and coating your pussy with it. Your hand on his cock similarly smeared his precum, and the two of you panted into each other's mouths.

You let out soft sounds as he kissed you sloppily, a mess of tongue and teeth telling you just how desperate John was for you.

"Never felt such a perfect pussy," he slurred, "come 'n ride my cock, pretty girl."

His breathless words made you whine, and you did not hesitate to press your hand against his chest, indicating him to lay on his back as you straddled his lap.

Any ounce of self-consciousness or shyness was absent in you. You presented your naked body to John, the body he had ravaged multiple times by now. Your hips ground onto his, making his cock glide between your folds as you teased him before granting him entrance.

It made John let out a needy groan, his hands holding onto the plump flesh on your hips as he guided your hips to grind with more pressure on his leaking cock.

"C'mon, sweetheart...stuff this cock in that pretty pussy...'s all yours, do whatever you want with it." You never thought you'd make John so desperate, but you couldn't deny you desired his cock just as much.

You lifted your hips and took hold of his cock, aligning it with your entrance before you slowly sank down on it. Your mouth fell open and so did his as he watched you with lust-blown eyes, how your pussy swallowed him whole.

It made John let out a moan and fuck it did something to you.

"Fuckkk, baby, tha's it," he looked up at your face with shameless want.

You bottomed out, sitting on his cock for a moment before lifting yourself only to sink back down, bouncing on him at a selfish pace.

You indulged in the way his lips were parted and exuded moans, how his hands stroked up and down your sides and curves tenderly as your hips bounced on his cock and ground down into his hips.

How his blue eyes devoured you and the way you moved.

Those starved eyes had been on you since the moment he stepped through the doors of your cafe, and they only grew hungrier the more you spoke, the more time you spent together.

And fuck were you proud of yourself for having this man under you, cock buried deep inside of you and letting you fuck him; letting himself belong to you, never to let you go.

Your pace grew sloppier and desperate as you fucked yourself with his cock, and John wouldn't have it any other way. His hand scaled up your body and splayed on the valley between your breasts, feeling the way your heart raced. Your head was thrown back as you lost yourself in him.

"That's it, baby, that's it," he babbled, "makin' me feel so good, love. Perfect fuckin' pussy made just for me, yeah?"

You nodded drunkenly in response, feeling his hips move under you to meet your rhythm. You took his hands in yours and laced your fingers with his, using his hold to increase your pace and reach your climax.

All you heard were John's mumbled praises and encouragements, too drunk on your pussy to be coherent. The two of you were pushing for each other's orgasms until it was finally there.

Both letting go in tandem, feeling the wave of pleasure wash over you, and feeling the way he stuffed you full.

You were both breathless, your sweat-coated body collapsing over John's, who took you in his arms with a husky chuckle of his, wrapping them around you and kissing your temple and burning cheeks.

"My perfect girl," he crooned, and you responded with a pleasant, tired hum as you melted in his embrace.

His girl, you thought. Yeah, you were his and it couldn't feel more perfect to be his.

You relished in the way he kissed your skin, the praises he whispered to you, and the way he whispered that he couldn't be more in love with you.

[lvmimis]

the god of the riverbanks takes his sacrifices drowned - young girls, once sweet, bright-eyed and naïve in the morning sun, in exchange for bountiful harvests, rain and the promise of floods kept at bay. there are rumors that they turn up unaccompanied and unharmed in villages afar, hair just slightly damp and smelling as fresh as the sea, with their memories lost yet their smiles forever just as cheerful as the jade green dragon himself who glides just below the visible depth of the wide seas.

in contrast, the god of the skies, of sun and snow, is thought to take his sacrifices burned at the stake and yet no one has seen their bodies past their first cries and coughs. young women with strange burns they do not remember abound in a country far west; perhaps their voices reach the heavens and he shows mercy towards them, allowing them to ride on his back that glitters with a mosaic of white and red scales, and see the world from above, their scars bold but their minds purged of their pasts by flame and soothed by gentle ice.

however, nothing will give you solace, because you are to be sacrificed to the god of the mountains and the earth, who is war and strife itself. the blindfold that keeps you helpless is thick, the ropes on your wrists tight and cutting into your skin. the god offers your village protection from calamity and invasion; he promises your country strength and thus your gift is necessary.

you doubt you'd be a worthy meal but there was no one else to offer up, and you hope he swallows you up quickly; the pain could be immense, but not worse than the pain in your weary heart. your chest aches as you think of your family, aches further when you realize you will never have the chance to find purpose or find love.

the mountains are still and quiet as you wait, bound helplessly to the stone shrine. there is no escape.

time passes both slow and fast as you breathe in deep and exhale half as long until your chest hurts with the stacking of breath expanding your weary lungs.

you hear a sigh.

"sick of this shit."

your eyes widen at the gruffness of the man's voice, but you can see nothing. he tuts, and you can hear a presence move around you, the stinging warmth of a flame too close to the sensitive skin of the underside of your arms. the same sensation is quickly felt in your bound legs before you before they are free.

the blindfold falls and you're staring into a set of red, inhuman eyes. vertical slits. dragon eyes.

but your visitor is a man, somewhat, even if he is practically three times your size. your breath holds as you take more of him in, sharp eyes and even sharper cheekbones, golden hair, a gaze that is less curiosity and more exasperation. there is a soft glow to his skin despite the dusky overtone of the sky and his lips are soft appearing and pinkish red, almost feminine, in contrast to the soft bristle of fair, coarse hair on his chin. smoke still comes from the corner of his mouth as he speaks, and you see flashes of fanged teeth intermittently.

"i'm taking you to the other side of the mountain, got it?" he asks.

it's a statement that is given like an order and you're too dumbfounded to speak, forgetting how to make use of your no longer bound arms and legs.

"i won't eat you. got it?" he repeats, louder. your head swims.

he doesn't wait for your answer regardless, and his wings spread - deep crimson, orange and yellow, brilliant like the crackles of a large bonfire. you're dragged into his arms without protest and cradled like a small child despite his annoyed expression, you take to the skies, your fate uncertain.