#caesar? i hardly know her!

[caesar-i-hardly-know-her]

IT’S MY MONTH‼️‼️

[caesar-i-hardly-know-her]

Caesar? I hardly know her!

You’re teleported to 44 BCE Rome in your everyday street clothes. You’re brought before Caesar and he believes you might be from the future, hoping to bring him fortune. One day he questions you, asking “How Do I Die?”

[xxgoldie]

lighter x reader, alcohol (lighter is drunk, nitro-fuel is alcoholic here), otherwise just pure fluff

thinking about lighter, stumbling up to you, the smell of nitro-fuel on his breath (and his shirt - he'd definitely spilled some on himself earlier, though with how unstable he was standing, you were hardly surprised). a bit of a party atmosphere had developed around steeltusk's bar tonight, and lighter had definitely had more than he should have. you had barely joined the gathering for a few minutes, relaxing a bit further from the bar, but as soon as he'd noticed you, he had made a (very wobbly) beeline for you.

"(Y/N)."

his hands went to your shoulder, using you to stabilise himself, even though his weight made you stumble a bit too.

"hi," you laughed, a rare sight to see the champion so discomposed, though he was looking into your eyes with a slightly nervewracking seriousness through those shades.

"we should get married."

it took you a couple beats to process his slurred words. heat rushed to your face, one you hoped, if someone noticed, you could blame on the one drink you'd had so far. you searched his face for the punchline, or any sort of elaboration. all you found was a similar searching - he was waiting for you to answer. he was almost pleading with his eyes, swaying a little from the alcohol - this was absurd.

"you are so drunk," was all you could muster, chuckling in disbelief. lighter collapsed against you, arms wrapping around your neck and head on your shoulder, and you swore you heard a very uncharacteristic whine leave his mouth.

"you don't want to marry me," he pouted - just how many drinks had burnice given him, that lighter lorenz, infamous red scarf of the sons of calydon, was pouting?

"hey, i didn't say that," you comforted him, instinctively petting his hair in a way he seemed to enjoy. and it wasn't a lie - it was something you had dreamed about several times, but... "i just feel like you've skipped a few steps here, you know? we're just friends, lighter. and you really are very drunk."

he picked himself up from your shoulder to look at you again, but he was so close this time, the tip of his nose barely an inch from yours, his full bodyweight still leaning on you. for the first time, you really realised the position the two of you were in, and so publicly, the crowded bar not far away. but you couldn't quite get yourself to focus on them, not when there was so little space between you, and his stupid handsome face took up your entire field of view. the musky scent of his cologne cut through the smell of nitro-fuel and it made your thoughts brain spin even more, so you waited for him to say something. you doubted you could come up with any more coherent thoughts.

"what's step one?" he said eventually. you frowned, not sure what he meant. "what?" "you said I skipped steps. what's step one?" "to marrying me??" "yeah."

once again, you had to pause to process. was this his weird, misguided, honestly really cute, way of confessing to you? there was no way - but there was a sincerity in his gaze that went past alcohol. the best answer would probably be 'ask me on a date when you're sober', but he was too pretty to be considering best answers, and your mouth moved faster than your brain did.

"probably this," you muttered, then pulled him forward by the scarf, closing the distance between you. even drunk, his reaction time was instantaneous - you were the one to initiate the kiss, but his hands were around your waist so quickly it surprised you, pulling you somehow even closer into him. it was clumsy but full of heat, and you could feel his mouth form a victorious grin against yours.

when you eventually pulled away, though, your gaze was immediately drawn away from his to the rest of the sons of calydon, who were whooping and cheering from the bar.

"yes! i told you it'd go well, lighter!" caesar called, shooting you a wink. Lighter only responded to her with a thumbs up, his head returning to rest on your shoulder again.

"did you tell him to do that?" you yelled back, head still reeling from the kiss.

"so what? neither of you were gonna take the leap sober," she replied, and you realised she wasn't behind his words - not intentionally, anyway.

"he proposed to me!"

a round of shocked laughter from the gang, except for lucy;

"he WHAT?"

i truly had no idea how to end this. but like. i love lighter so so much but i especially love him being dorky and down bad. wc: 757

[himasgod]

Lyney x Reader

Where he reunites with you, his best friend and childhood crush, after being held captive for years

In the events of Lyney's Story Quest, while Charlotte is interviewing the magician twins, she say that a girl with your name was found tied up in a basement, and is now in the hospital. Lyney immediately knows that it was you, having been missing for so many years without reason. However, you are not the same as when you were a child and your smile has been erased forever. How would he act?

(I've finished this request from @sailorstar9! I don't know if it turned out as good as I wanted, but I hope you still liked it!)

Charlotte was conducting her interview with the twins.

The journalist, as always, was enthusiastic and full of energy, writing down every detail the siblings shared. However, everything changed when Charlotte mentioned something that made Lyney go completely still.

“After Jemma’s confession, the Gardes investigated her house. It was there that they found Caesar’s daughter…” Charlotte paused, adjusting her monocle, before adding, “Chained in the basement.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Lyney felt as if the world was crumbling around him. Your name echoed in his mind like an endless echo. It had been years since he heard from you, years in which he had learned to accept your absence, convincing himself that perhaps you had decided to start a new life away from everything. He never imagined that you had been so close, suffering in silence.

“What… what did you say?” Lyney asked, his voice weak.

Charlotte looked up from her notes, surprised by the intensity in the magician’s eyes.

“Caesar’s daughter. She was imprisoned for years in terrible conditions. Now she’s in the hospital, being treated for malnutrition and muscle atrophy.”

Lynette placed a hand on Lyney’s arm, a silent gesture to anchor him in the present. He, however, could barely process what he had just heard. The smile that once lit up your eyes, the same one that had inspired so many of his magic tricks, now seemed like a distant memory.

That night, Lyney didn’t sleep. Memories together flooded his mind: the shared laughter, the adventures at Fontaine, the little tricks he’d practice to impress you. He remembered how your laughter rang like bells when something went wrong, and how you always told him it didn’t matter, that he was still the best magician in the world.

But now, those memories seemed tinged with sadness.

“Lynette,” he said finally, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep. "I have to see her."

Lynette looked at him from across the stage. There was no need to argue. She understood perfectly what her brother felt and knew that nothing would stop him.

“Then go,” she replied calmly. “But be prepared, Lyney. She may not be how you remember her.”

The hospital had a cold, sterile air, but Lyney hardly cared. He walked through the halls with his heart in his throat, each step bringing him closer to you. When he finally reached your room, he stopped in front of the door. For the first time in a long time, the magician who always faced the audience with a confident smile felt afraid.

He took a breath and turned the doorknob.

The sight that greeted him made his heart break. You were sitting on the bed, staring out the window with a lost look. Your figure was thinner than he remembered, and your cheeks, once full of life, were sunken. Though your hair still fell softly over your shoulders, it had lost the shine it used to have.

He whispered, his voice shaky.

Hearing your name, you slowly turned your head towards him. Your eyes, though recognizable, seemed empty, as if the weight of the years had extinguished the spark that once characterized them.

“Lyney?” you asked, your tone incredulous and barely audible.

He nodded, taking a step towards you. He effor to stop the tears from filling his eyes at seeing you like that.

“It’s me,” he said with a small smile, though his heart was shattered. “I’m here.”

It took you a moment to process his presence. So many years had passed, and the circumstances you found yourself in had eroded your ability to feel joy or surprise.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again…” you finally said, lowering your gaze.

Lyney came over and knelt beside your bed, taking your hand in his. Feeling your skin, so cold and fragile, made him clench his teeth to hold back the tears.

“You have no idea how much I searched for you, how much I thought about you,” he whispered, with a mix of pain and tenderness in his voice. "One day you stopped coming to the place where we used to see each other and… and I could never find you again"

"But, now that I’m here, I don’t plan on leaving you alone ever again.”

Your eyes filled with tears, but you didn’t know how to respond.

You had spent so much time in the darkness that the light Lyney brought with you seemed almost unreal.

“Lyney… I’m not the same as before,” you murmured. “The person you knew… doesn’t exist anymore.”

He shook his head, with an intensity that surprised you.

“That’s not true. You may have changed, but you’re still you. And no matter how long it takes, I’m going to do everything in my power to bring that smile back to you.”

For the first time in years, you felt a glimmer of hope. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to start.

Lynette also visited you and updated you on everything that had happened in those years of your absence, while you shared a cup of tea.

You even felt a little scared when you received a letter from a certain "Arlecchino" wishing you a speedy recovery.

Lyney stayed with you all the nights, telling you stories, showing you little magic tricks with the cards he always carried with him.

Every time he made you smile, even if it was a small gesture, he felt like he was taking a step closer to the goal he had promised himself to achieve:

give you back the happiness you deserved.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request, they're opened and would help me so much! <3

[caesar-i-hardly-know-her]

CAESAR!? I HARDLY KNOW HER!!

all of tumblr tomorrow, march 15th:

[ssparksflyy]

what's he got that i don't? 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚

pairing percy jackson x fem!reader summary based off this request!! an i actually love this request sm 😋 in jealous percy we trust

PERCY sighed dramatically as he plopped himself down on his bed, scooting up to put his head in your lap. he'd just gotten back from a meeting with chiron about helping out with teaching new campers how to handle swords and was quite frankly, exhausted. he'd spent his whole day running around, going from lesson to lesson, already helping out with all sorts of things. he hadn't seen you since breakfast and desperately needed to feel you close after his hectic day. walking into his cabin to see you sitting in his bed reading made him feel like maybe the gods didn't hate him and they knew how to answer his prayers after all.

"long day?" you asked, moving one of your hands down to his hair and ran your fingers through it while the other continued to hold up your book.

"mhm" he hummed in response.

"what'd you do?" you followed up.

"teach, teach some more, help out, then go teach again" he said, "i didn't even ask to be a teacher."

"you didn't ask for a lot of things, just another thing to add to the list babe. im sure the kids who need help greatly appreciate you and your teaching"

"i guess"

you sat in silence for a minute, continuing to play with percy's hair and read. he would've been fine staying like that and maybe even wouldve ended up falling asleep in your lap, but he had hardly spent any time with you today. he wanted to talk to you more and kiss your lips and hug you, but your nose was stuck in that stupid book he didn't even understand.

"whatcha reading?" he asked and lifted his head up, moving it to rest his chin on your stomach.

"the hunger games" you replied.

he mumbled a quick 'okay' and kept his head on your stomach, looking up at you and watching as you read.

as much as percy loved quiet moments like this, it was the opposite of what he wanted. he knew you enjoyed reading, and now was one of the few opportunities you got to read in peace, but he hadn't seen you in hours and (even though he wouldnt admit it) was in desperate need for your attention. when he saw you smile at something in your book, he decided to try for a conversation again.

"whatcha smilin' at?"

you looked away from your book, "nothin. just this guy."

he got up and furrowed his brow, "what guy?"

"he's not real, percy."

"don't matter, what guy is making my girl smile like that?"

you rolled your eyes, "a guy made of ink and imaginations. that's who."

"lemme see" he said, holding out his hand for you to hand him the book.

you handed him the book and watched as he squinted his eyes, trying to read it.

"i can't read."

"i know."

"what's it say?"

he handed you the book back, ""i don’t think it’s going to work out. winning . . . won’t help in my case," says peeta. "why ever not?" says caesar, mystified. peeta blushes beet red and stammers out. "because . . .because . . . she came here with me.""

percy pauses for a second. "you were smiling at that? what does it even mean?"

"see! you dont get it, it's nothing." you said, trying to brush it off.

"mmm i think its something" he said. he already had your attention away from reading your book, now it was just a matter of keeping it up.

"you wanna know? fine." you huffed, "im smiling because i remember when i read this for the first time and i was freaking out because katniss and peeta hardly even talk in this part of the book, and he just reveals that he's got a crush on her, but you don't know that he's actually faking it - but at the same time he's not - because it's set in katniss' perspective, so you're left all 'what was that?! what does he mean!!!' and it becomes something that peeta does again later cause he's smart and knows what cards to play in order for people to like him!!"

he looked at you in surprise, "oh- wow, sorry." he apologized, taking your hands in his, "so is peeta your favorite character?"

you knew you could just give him a simple yes and be over with the whole thing, but if he wanted the truth, then the truth is what he would get.

"yea, he really is. he's just the perfect guy" you said smugly, opening your book back up and pretending to start reading again.

"pfff- yea right! what happened to imaginations and ink?" he said. you could hear the slightest bit of jealousy in his voice and decided to keep going.

"doesnt take away the fact that he's perfect" you said as a mattter-of-factly.

"oh yea? well i think he's a fake nobody."

"fake nobody or not, he's still really smart, strong, an artist, a great baker, handsome in the movies-"

"josh hutcherson is not handsome."

"im gonna act like you didn't just say that." you said, realizing this was going the way you wanted it to, "but gods, did i mention how good of a boyfriend he is? i mean the way he cared for katniss?? hes literally everything a girl could ask fo-"

"hey you know im your boyfriend, not him, right?" percy asked, his tone sounding unsure and annoyed.

you stopped there and put your book down. you didn't think he'd actually be bothered by you talking about a fictional guy. he was never really the jealous type, had he actually taken it seriously?

"perce... are you.. jealous?" you asked in disbelief.

he gave you an offended look that you could tell was fake, "what?! no! course not! why would i be jealous of some fake baker dude??"

you couldnt help but laugh as he continued to try and defend himself from your 'wild' and 'indecorous' 'accusations'.

"i wasnt accusing you of anything! just asking!!" you said through your fit of giggles.

"yea you were! i feel very attacked right now, i though this was supposed to be a safe space!!" you only laughed more.

once you managed to get yourself to stop laughing, you moved closer to percy and pressed a kiss on his cheek. "i was just joking, you know that right?"

he mumbled a quick 'yea' while moving over to your side so he could put his arm around you and pull you into his chest. he left a kiss ontop of your head as you got comfortable in his embrace, putting your book on his nightstand.

percy had gotten his chance to talk to you, and now was able to hold you close, just like he wanted. yes it took listening to you ramble about some other (fake) guy, but who cares!! before finally closing his eyes and falling under hypnos' spell, he only had one more question about the book you were reading.

"by the way, who's finnick odair?"

"OHMYGOD, SO-"

[tojivu]

# OFFICE HOURS ‣ GOJO SATORU

✰ — author’s note i feel so guilty bc gojo is literally the only character i write for LOL anyway this is an old draft from months ago. idk why this is so long im so horrendously down bad for this fucking snowman.

✰ — cw / tags arrogant ceo!gojo x secretary f!reader, sfw, not rly enemies to lovers bc gojo has fat feelings, gojo satoru being a billionaire playboy

✰ — playing death & taxes by daniel caesar.

✰ — word count ~3k LOL

nothing about gojo satoru really strikes you as the serious type.

even in a professional environment, your boss always has a carefree demeanour. his laugh is so nauseatingly loud that you can hear it from outside the office, and you wonder how someone as busy as him manages through his day; much less with a positive attitude. you take one look at his schedule, and you want to vomit with the way you hardly see any gaps between appointments.

you suppose you could learn that from him. it's his only good quality.

you admit that he's likeable, on surface level. there's a reason why you detest him, though: as his closest colleague, you know him way more than you would prefer. most people would think such a well to do man like satoru would have a wife by his side, but that's unfortunately not the case. you almost feel more miserable than him—because now you're forced to be the listening ear and comforting hand at his beck and call.

you think he'd be just fine if he was just a little more humble. he has a nice face. it's his fault for being so stuck up. you know how many women ask him out—painfully aware, actually.

'they just aren't suited to my taste,' he would say to you. 'i need someone that makes me feel alive.'

one time, gojo even asked you to bail him out of a date—something about the way she held her fork and knife disturbed him, and you were expected to show up at the restaurant and act as if there was an emergency.

'i'm so sorry, sweetheart. i have to go, duty calls.' his disgustingly charming tone made you want to slap him then and there.

she called him again the following week, and he completely forgot who she was. he didn't even save her number.

the sheer number of people asking him out had stroked his ego so hard that gojo firmly believes no woman is deserving enough. he rambles on and on to you about how snobby some of them seem, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue when he does. 'takes one to know one,' you would say, if not for your job at stake.

you think gojo satoru is full of himself. you are a strong believer of that. a witness, as well—it's not like he didn't try his way with you, too. unlike the women he ranted about, you turned him down every single time.

it's been a long while since any of that has happened, though. the most recent ordeal was months ago, but that didn't inherently mean that people stopped asking him out: it just meant that he was rejecting every single offer.

it's a thursday morning when you find yourself eating a sandwich you purchased on the way to work, at your desk—wondering when the big boss will finally arrive. the clock read 9 a.m., and you're expecting an extravagant "good morning!" to surprise you any moment now.

just then, you notice mr. conceited walk in: except something is different. he has no stride in his step. there was no good morning. there was no playful teasing directed at you as he walked past your desk and into his office, not that you were complaining—it was just strange.

you stand up, a mouthful of your sandwich still being chewed. you take a big sip of water and fix your skirt and blouse, making sure your hair is presentable—before swiftly making your way into his office.

──────

"i cannot believe this." he mumbles. you're standing in front of his desk, but he's not facing your direction.

gojo's chair is turned to the giant window that overlooks the business district, and he's gazing out of it thoughtfully. you think this is the cheesiest thing you've seen him do.

you can see how disheveled his hair was, even from where you were standing. you don't want to irritate him further, in case teasing you was still on his to-do list that day.

"what is it, mr. gojo?"

he swivels his chair around, and he is a mess—just what could have he been up to?

"i woke up late today."

"you're the boss, mr. gojo. you can come in any time you want—"

"not the point." he interrupts you. "i forgot my lunch. i was in the car, with the driver, on the way here already. . . and then i realised i left my donuts at home."

gojo's face is absolutely distraught. he looks like he's gone through a divorce and had his house set on fire with how he stands up dramatically—his hands now on his desk. you open your mouth to speak, but he shuts you up by talking again.

"i didn't want to inconvenience him. i'm too thoughtful, miss y/n."

you want to scoff, but you bite your tongue and hold back.

"so i got out of the car and ran back for it," gojo recounts. "i arrived home after the treacherous journey—only to discover that my donuts are gone."

you feign an expression of shock, just to humour him; he gives you an 'i know right' look, and continues his nonsensical story.

"the maids threw them away, miss y/n."

you can't help yourself: you let a small giggle slip through your lips. you quickly use your hand to cover your mouth, thinking of a quick excuse.

you cough. you pretend to, at least—but gojo satoru is not stupid.

no, maybe a little. though, not enough to be convinced of your terrible acting.

"nothing about this is funny."

you nod, looking down at the floor. "i apologise, mr. gojo, but it's just a few donuts. i'm sure someone in the office could fetch some for you."

"yes, i agree." he says, and you shift your gaze from the marble tiling of his office to his face. his hair is a mess, yes—but he still looks revoltingly handsome. his eyes are piercing through yours, and pieces of hair cover his face in just the right places.

you're staring a little too long and gojo finds his pulse quickening with the eye contact—but the spell he has you under is soon broken when he clears his throat.

you quickly look away, embarrassed that you were caught staring at your boss, by your boss.

"you'll pick some up for me, yeah?" his smooth and silky voice echoes through the empty space of his office.

you look at him again, and there's a gentle smile on his face; one you're all too familiar with.

you're aware of satoru's charismatic nature, his playboy-ish attitude, and all sorts of tricks he uses to make women fall head over heels for him. that didn't mean you were completely resistant to them, though—you find yourself playing with the sleeves of your blouse, your ears beginning to redden. "of course," is all you manage to say.

at least you were self-aware.

your mind was rational. should gojo satoru try to hit on you for the nth time—all it took was some self discipline to say no, and you'd like to think you had plenty.

you think the conversation is done with the way he doesn't speak another word, so you turn on your heels and make your way out of the office.

just as you touch the handle of the door, your boss adds: "i'll come with you."

you turn back to him, confused. you didn't need your boss babysitting you for a donut run, you knew his favourite flavours—it's all he ever insists on buying for lunch. "there's no need for that, mr. gojo."

satoru shakes his head in disapproval. "you don't even know my favourite flavours, miss y/n."

that was a blatant lie. he knew you knew. you were his personal donut grabber for a few months up until august, and it was only october. you suppose that it would've continued on if not for your complaints about the long lines in the morning.

nevertheless, you don't argue with him. gojo satoru was the type to get what he wants, when he wants, if he really wants it.

you smile at his disregard for the months you spent as his errand runner, and how idiotic the excuse he just used was. satoru knows he's lying through his teeth, and your smile makes him more nervous than your eye contact.

so nervous, in fact, that he takes back what he just said. "unless. . . you're fine by yourself."

you're surprised that gojo's confidence is dissipating, or that it could even fade at all. you can tell with the way he's avoiding your eye contact, exactly how you evaded his earlier—the red on the tips of his ears are much too obvious in contrast to his hair.

"i don't mind," you respond a bit too quicker than appropriate. "mr. gojo."

gojo curses himself mentally, thinking about how stupid he must sound. he's usually the one making people nervous, but he doesn't know why it's different when you look at him like that.

──────

the atmosphere is deafening in gojo's favourite bakery. you always knew he had a sweet tooth, so you expected his choice to be a spectacular one—and you weren't disappointed.

you had personally visited this bakeshop before, and the confectionery was truly as good as people made it out to be; it proved evident in the amount of people crammed into this small establishment. though, you can't tell if it was for the food or for your boss, with the way most pairs of eyes are turned in his direction.

you two spend a good five seconds looking at the menu before gojo states his order, which was exactly what you thought it would be—the lady at the cashier smiles a bit too long at satoru, before asking: "eating in?"

you want to open your mouth to say something, but he beats you to it. "of course."

it was still very well your work day. he (or maybe you and him, considering you helped him plan seventy percent of his appointments) had a meeting in 3 hours to prepare for. you think this donut adventure is already unnecessary enough—but here he is, suggesting to waste even more time eating the donuts in the bakery itself.

"we have a meeting in a bit, though. you could eat it in your office."

he looks at you with a confused look, as if he forgot that there was a meeting at all—because he did forget. gojo gasps, turning back to the lady and retracting his previous statement.

──────

gojo eats his donuts agonisingly slow and no conversation is initiated.

you're alternating between staring at both your laptops and the swirls on the wooden desk, unable to say anything because you didn't plan for such an occasion: an eating donuts with your admittedly handsome boss that makes you nervous while simultaneously planning for an important meeting occasion.

"miss y/n, you should try some."

you shift your eyes from the table to gojo, and he's holding a small piece of his donut to your lips: the powdered sugar practically calling your name.

"it's fine, i ate earlier," you decline his generous offer. "you should eat."

"i'm not asking you to eat all of them, miss y/n." he smiles at you. "just a bite. it's really good, y'know."

you sigh, reaching for his hand to take it from him—but he swiftly pulls it away and shakes his head. "open your mouth."

you feel the tips of your ears burning, blood rushing to your cheeks and you wonder how the girls he takes out manage themselves when he's like this—you've worked with him for so long, yet you can't recall a time when his gaze wouldn't make you shudder.

you think you'd stutter if you spoke one more word to him, so you save yourself from the embarrassment and bare with his request.

he feeds you the piece of sugar-coated donut, and you're sure you have powder on the corners of your lips with how it's width barely fits into your mouth.

you chew and swallow, feeling the residue of sugar on your skin.

"do you have any tissues?" you ask him, a serious expression plastered onto your face.

gojo tries to suppress the chuckle itching to escape his throat—the sugar on your lips and cheeks catch him off guard, and after a few seconds he can't help but let a small laugh slip. you stand up from your chair, scanning the room for any boxes of tissues you could lay your hands on.

he stands up as well, shaking his head—still giggling.

"it's not funny," you frown, and the smile on his face only grows wider—you're too cute for your own good when you sulk. "stop laughing."

you're not sure if you want to punch him or let him giggle to himself. for some reason, seeing you embarrassed is a great cause of joy to him. you can't bring yourself to tell him to shut up; you always imagine doing just that, it's strange how you couldn't muster the courage just when you needed it most.

"it's quite funny," gojo's laughter eventually calms down.

he leans closer to you and his right hand gently holds the side of your jaw—he uses his thumb to gently wipe the sugar off your cheek, and then your lips. "i got it."

his thumb stays on your bottom lip after dusting the sugar away. his pupils are locked onto the surface of your lips, which were glossy in the harsh light of his office: they looked so soft.

before long, they trail up your face until he's looking directly into your eyes: and this time you're not nervous, you don't look away, and your heart is completely calm.

satoru's fingers are easy on your skin. he handles you like fragile glass, as if he doesn't want to break you: and it's the same for the way he looks at you. gentle.

you're reluctant to speak because the way satoru has his thumb on your bottom lip sends shivers down your spine. you feel breathless.

you don't want this feeling to leave, not just yet.

a few seconds of tension pass. his hand moves back to your jaw, and your nervousness returns when gojo satoru leans his tall figure even closer to you; his head tilting ever so slightly.

it's a random thursday morning when you discover a few more good qualities gojo satoru possesses: his lips and his hands. maybe the way he kisses, too—it's slow and precise, unlike his attitude. he tastes sickeningly sweet and it makes you want to savour this moment even more.

you promised yourself you wouldn't fall victim to gojo satoru. yet, you just can't pull away: instead finding yourself slithering your arms around his neck and your chest pressing against his.

gojo's hands are wandering down to your waist and he's desperate to have you as close to him as possible, showing in the way he tries to close the already small gap between you two.

it takes only a fraction of a second for a small thought to form in your mind: just how many women have been in this position?

you quickly forget about that thought, though—you think it's pointless to regret it now, gojo satoru kisses you too good to be full of remorse.

gojo thinks he could stay like this: kiss you all morning, afternoon and pay you overtime if it meant he could be this close to you for just a bit longer.

there's hints of neediness in gojo's touch—as if he'd been waiting for this forever, wanting to relish it before it ends. his few seconds of bliss don’t last very long though, because you're soon pulling away—gasping for air.

he sighs mockingly, his hands sliding down from your waist to your hips. "can't last longer than 10 seconds, miss y/n?"

of course he would say some cocky shit like that—you'd forgotten for a minute that this was the same, arrogant mr. gojo you always knew, and no kiss (however heavenly) was going to change that.

"i'm sorry that i don't go on dates with every man that breathes."

gojo smirks at you after you say those words. "come on. just because i go on dates with people, doesn't mean i kiss them like this."

"sure you don't." your jealousy shows a bit too much in your reply, and he finds himself smiling even harder.

"is someone jealous?" he teases you again, rubbing circles with his thumb against the flesh of your hips.

you feel flustered, knowing that you're definitely done for now—he saw right through you. "nobody is jealous, mr. gojo."

"stop it with the formality. just call me satoru."

"it's still office hours. it's only polite."

gojo rolls his eyes, sighing in the process. you grin a little at him, knowing that this was the first thing you denied him of today—complying with the donuts and the kissing was already spoiling him enough.

"then i suppose there's only after work," there's his nauseatingly charming voice again—low and smooth. he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and you know it too. "i'm off after 6."

you think long and hard about whether you want to be mean and add this to the list of things you've declined to do for him. the ratio was starting to get really unbalanced—but you remember the way his hands touch you and how his lips greet yours so lovingly: and you think that there's no point turning back now.

"my boss doesn't let me off until after 8, though." you try to poke at his buttons—you put on a fake pout, knowing you’ll accept his invitation anyway—but gojo satoru is eternally patient when it came to things he sincerely desired.

"fuck your boss." he says, "he'll be fine with it."

you laugh at his response. you never thought you would see the day gojo curses at himself, after all, he's so self-obsessed: but you suppose you've seen—and tasted—parts of him that you never knew existed.

"then i'll see you at 6, mr. gojo."

what was the harm in discovering more?

230323 — i kinda hate this but.. wtv… anyway i couldn’t be bothered to proofread have my brainrot of gojo in a suit Mmmm yumyum

[caesar-i-hardly-know-her]

Caesar!? I hardly know her!!

[starkwlkr]

love in las vegas | mark webber

through the decades masterlist

Las Vegas, 1967

Mark didn’t know why he even agreed to accompany his friends to sin city. He would much rather stay in his cosy bed and sleep, but he knew how much the trip meant to his friend, Tom, since it was a bachelor party.

“Think we’ll get lucky tonight?” Tom asked Mark as they walked the Las Vegas strip. Tom had talked all day about going to the casino so he was more than confident that he would be walking home with a few hundred dollars.

“I don’t want to jinx it.” Mark chuckled. Soon the group of friends found themselves in Caesars Palace. Mark never imagined himself at such a fancy place like Caesars Palace. He always thought it was for big name celebrities like Paul Newman and Audrey Hepburn.

Still he was here to enjoy time with his friends.

“Hey, I think I’m going to check out the rest of the building. I heard the pool is pretty nice.” Mark said to the group, but no one heard him since they were too busy on the slot machines.

He walked away and found himself wandering around. He wasn’t sure what direction the pool was located in so he kept walking and admiring the art work on the walls. That was until a sweet voice caught his attention.

“Honestly, Mary, why can’t I go alone? I’ve done it once, I can do it again. Fuck what the press thinks, they already think I’m a bitch!”

Mark watched as the most beautiful woman in the world walked down the hall. She had on red heart glasses and wore a shade of red lipstick that Mark loved. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her until he almost bumped into a wall.

“Mary, I’m going to be by the pool. All this thinking is making me stressed and I can’t be stressed.” Mark didn’t want to seem like a stalker, but he was going to the pool either way.

He watched as you were greeted by every person as you made your way to a cabana. You took your sunglasses off and laid on the lounge chairs.

Go talk to her . . No, she’s busy. . But it can’t hurt, right? It might! Think positive!

His inner thoughts were stopped when you called for him. He looked around thinking you were calling someone else, but he was proven wrong when you pointed at him.

“You are talking to me . . ” Mark nervously chuckled as he approached your cabana.

“Well yeah, you look lost.” You laughed. “You have an accent. I take it you’re not from here.”

“No, I’m from Australia. I’m just here with a couple of friends. They’re in the casino.” Mark explained.

“You can sit down, I don’t have germs.” You joked when you noticed that he was still standing. So Mark sat in the lounge chair across from you. “How are you liking Vegas?”

“It’s loud that’s for sure. It’s . . . perfect for those fancy rich celebrities. Especially those actors like that guy from to kill a mockingbird!”

“Gregory Peck? He’s lovely. Wonderful kisser too.” You reply with a smirk.

“What? Is it like a rumor?”

“No, I speak from experience. It was also lovely to work with him. He invited me to his house in California. I declined, but it was still nice of him to invite me.” You recalled the time your friend had invited you to his California home.

“Wait . .” Mark thought for a second. “You’re —”

You nodded. “One of those ‘fancy rich celebrities’ except I don’t come to Vegas often. I’m only here a couple hours. You see, I am supposed to be on a flight to Santa Monica for the academy awards, but I wanted to spend some time here. I like it here, it’s one of the few places I enjoy.”

Mark instantly felt like an idiot. He didn’t mean to insult you. Well then again, he didn’t know you acted. He hardly watches any new movies anyways. He had been busy with racing.

“I never asked you your name.” You said.

“Mark.” The Australian replied.

“Well Mark, do you want to explore Vegas with me?”

Mark didn’t have to think twice. You took him to your favorite restaurants, took pictures with your Polaroid and walked the strip until your feet ached. But there was one final stop that was a must do when you’re in Vegas.

Graceland Wedding Chapel

Was it a stupid decision? You and Mark didn’t think so.

That night, you had married a nice stranger.

“I can’t believe that we just got married!” Mark said as you walked out of the chapel with the certificate in hand. “Holy shit, we’re married!”

“Call me Mrs. Webber.” You held out the hand that Mark had been holding. The Australian grabbed it and kissed it.

“I think this is the best night of my life.” Mark sighed. “Wait, that makes my life sound extremely sad. Don’t listen to me.”

You laughed. “It’s okay. This is the best night of my life too and I’ve been to so many places, but being here with you is my favorite.”

As Mark leaned in to place a kiss on your lips, you gasped and pulled back. You had completely forgotten about the academy awards ceremony that you needed to attend in a few hours.

“I need to go! Wait, you need to go with me too!” You said.

“What? I can’t!”

“Why not? We just need to get to Santa Monica, get you a suit and get to the ceremony. I’m nominated for best actress!”

Best actress? You couldn’t miss that!

“Fine, but if my friends find out I ditched them—”

“They won’t notice you’re gone, I promise.”

Mark grabbed your hand and together you ran to the parking lot where his Porsche had been parked. Before you could get the chance, he opened the door for you and gave you a charming smile.

“Mrs. Webber.” He winked.

“You’re too kind, Mr. Webber.” You blushed.

Soon, you and Mark were on your way to Santa Monica. Mark had rolled the windows down and turned up the music. It was perfect. You could feel the cool air going through your hair, the sweet sound of ‘I think we’re alone now’ by Tommy James and The Shondelles filled your ears. Mark kept glancing at you every chance he got. In his eyes, you were the love of his life. He was a firm believer in soulmates and here you were in the passenger seat of his Porsche. You were living proof that love at first sight existed and he was head over heels in love with you.

The four hours it took to get to Santa Monica, you and Mark talked, sang and you even got a few minutes to nap. When you arrived, you took Mark to get a suit. Mark had only wore a suit a handful of times. He hated wearing them as a child, but now they weren’t too bad.

“What if I get asked a question?” Mark asked. “I don’t know anything about movies or actors!”

“Relax, i lie when I don’t know stuff. It’s fun.” You smile.

“It’s easy for you, you’re an actress. Wait, what if someone asks who I am to you? Don’t you have to talk to your manager or someone important before you say something?” Mark was too busy stressing while you were busy thinking how you were going to celebrate even if you didn’t win.

“Tell them the truth. You’re my husband, is that a bad thing?”

Being married wasn’t a bad thing, especially if you were his wife, mark thought. He would marry you everyday of his life if he could.

“I’ll scream it from the highest rooftop if I have to.” He kissed you.

After giving the cashier his last fifty dollars for the suit, Mark drove you to the Beverly Hills Hotel where your manager and makeup team were. He had never stepped foot in such a fancy hotel like the Beverly Hills before, sure he was in Cesars palace not too long ago, but the Beverly Hills was an upgrade.

You eventually made it to your room and entered the suite. Again, Mark was amazed by every little thing from the painting on the wall to the fluffy pillows. You honestly found it adorable.

“Where have you been?” Your makeup artist, Alexander, asked you.

“It’s a long story. Alex meet Mark, Mark meet Alex. There, we’re all good on introductions for now.” You smiled as you sat in the makeup chair.

“Where did you find him?” Alexander questioned as he got started on your makeup.

“Vegas. He’s Australian and he’s technically my husband. I’m Mrs. L/n-Webber.” You stated confidently. You were living up to the title now.

“What!?” Mark stood beside your chair not knowing if Alexander hated him or not. He wished he was anywhere else.

“Relax, we won’t say anything about it to the press.”

And that was the biggest lie. Well, sort of.

By the end of the night, Mark was introduced to most of the biggest faces in Hollywood. He got to walk the red carpet and posed for pictures with you. He also got to witness you win your first academy award where you publicly declared your love for him.

“Lastly, I want to thank Mark. These past few hours have been the craziest, but I wouldn’t change a thing.” You spoke into the microphone as you held your golden statue in your hands.

Mark was seated beside your manager, Henry, who was thankful the night was almost over. Little did Mark know that his friends had been watching the ceremony in their Vegas hotel room. Some of them were still drinking while others wondered how Mark even got an academy award winner to marry him.

The Australian smiled as you left the stage. This was certainly an interesting night that nobody would forget and nobody did. You and Mark stayed married. While Mark raced all over the world, you worked on numerous films and won awards. During the summer of 1969, you gave birth to your first child, a girl named Diana. Then four years later, your baby boy was born. Little Michael Webber, a spitting image of his father. You were in love with your little family even if it all started with a wild night in Vegas. You wouldn’t change any of it.

[strawlessandbraless]

‘Caesar? I hardly know her!’ - Marcus Brutus after he stabbed his friend probably

[to-the-stars8]

Affairs and Letters

Jason Todd x Reader Regency AU! AO3 Chapters

Part XVI

In the weeks leading up to the ball at Wayne Manor, Lady Kent’s urgent preparation had finally reached a fever pitch. A few days before the event, her urgency gave way to irritation, and she grew exasperated at any mention of it. More than once, she lamented that she could not wait for it to be over. You, merely an observer, could hardly hold your tongue from pointing out that she had been the most eager for the occasion in the first place.

You tucked another of Mr. Todd’s letters into your desk before leaving your room, seeking reprieve from its cramped confines. Jon would be occupied with his studies until late in the afternoon, leaving you far too idle for your liking. Disliking idleness intensely, you resolved to walk through the park once more. 

The sun shone high in the sky, and the day was unseasonably warm, perfect for a solitary stroll.

You had not anticipated Lady Kent to insist on joining you on your outing when you informed her. 

What should have been a quiet escape from Kent House became instead a rigid and awkward excursion. Lady Kent kept pace with you, pointing out all of the beauty of the land that she seldom walked on. 

“I had not known of the little spring here,” she remarked with a smile. Despite your unease, she seemed uncharacteristically lighthearted, quite unlike her usual self of late. It must have been the fresh air, you thought.

You nodded and meekly said, “Yes, Ma’am.”

She turned her head sharply toward you, her gaze narrowing for a brief moment before softening into something more haughty than harsh. "You seem uneasy. Do I truly make you feel so?"

“No, Ma’am,” You quickly replied. 

“You’re a terrible liar,” said she. Lady Kent fixed her sleeves as she walked on, becoming quiet for a moment, before mumbling, “I do not mean to make you uneasy.”

You scarcely believed her. “I am not uneasy, Ma’am, I assure you. It is only that I,” You hesitated, carefully searching her face for any sign of offense. “I do not know how to speak with you.”

At this, Lady Kent threw back her head in laughter, the sound ringing clear in the open air. You had rarely dared to look at her so directly before— perhaps out of fear of incurring her displeasure—but now, for the first time, you truly observed her. She was beautiful. The flush upon her pale cheeks made her eyes sparkle, and her smile, fresh and bright, illuminated her features. It was no wonder Sir Kent admired his wife so greatly.

“I had not realized I was so difficult.”

“No, Ma’am, you are not!” You protested hastily.

She waved a hand dismissively. "Fret not, girl, I shall not hold it against you. I know I am rather severe at times, but there is a reason for it. We ladies cannot afford to be careless with our reputations."

You were taken aback. In all the years you had served the Kents, you had never once considered that Lady Kent might share the same concerns as you. She had been born into privilege, raised with the expectation of becoming mistress of a great estate. She had made the position her own, very much like Ms. Thompkins, you noted. 

“Even Caesar's wife must be above suspicion,” You quoted. The longer you pondered the thought, the more troubling it became. If even Lady Kent, with all her advantages, was not above scrutiny, then how could you ever be?

She grinned, regarding you as a teacher might her brightest pupil. "Yes, my dear, that is precisely right."

For the remainder of the walk, Lady Kent spoke of her anticipation—and her anxieties—regarding the ball. The initial excitement had long since worn off, you noticed, leaving in its place the weight of duty rather than the thrill of indulgence. You listened obediently, though you had not yet recovered from her earlier admission. By the time you reached the farthest edge of the property, Lady Kent declared she had walked too far, prompting an earlier return to the house than you had intended.

Upon your return, you decided it would be best to watch over Jon’s studies. He would be practicing his piano lessons, and your presence always made him nervous. Yet, truthfully, you paid little attention to his playing, your mind preoccupied with other important matters. Such as your conversation with Lady Kent, so, as he played, you thought.

You had already passed the point of no return in your attachment to Mr. Todd. And yet, you could still stop. It would be easy—painfully easy—to cease all communication, to treat him with the same cool indifference that Barbara now reserved for Mr. Grayson. To protect yourself.

Alas, you would not. Or could not. You did not know. 

The only certainty was that you loved Mr. Todd. You loved his smile, the unruly waves of his hair, his rough decorum, and the way he made you laugh at the world. 

Yes, you decided, you would not give him up. You were not Caesar's wife, nor would you be.

[caesar-i-hardly-know-her]

Caesar? I hardly know her!

[stuckinthesun]

See you in Zou, Right? || Sanji x Reader

Series Masterlist

Prequel to⇡ — Spoilers for dressrosa

Summary - You and your boyfriend Sanji have to split up

Dressrosa was not going anywhere near as planned.

You and Zoro had gotten lost, only to meet up with Franky and find out the plan to turn Caesar over was a bust, Traffy got beat and taken by DoFlamingo, and Luffy was fighting in an arena. Then, when the two of you split off to go to the Sunny, you ran into Kin’emon and were told that the ship had already left for Zou with half your crew.

Sanji included.

You were desperate to talk to your boyfriend. To find out exactly what happened and if he and the others were okay.

The three of you ran all the way to the colosseum to talk to Luffy. After a frustrating conversation with some fanboy of the crew, your captain finally came to see you. He looked ridiculous with his fake beard, flower shirt, gold helmet, and red cape, but you could hardly find any amusement in it. There were marines everywhere, and you were standing out in the open.

When Kin’emon pulled out his transponder snail, you all but ripped it out of his hand and dialed the Sunny. The snail clicked, and there was a commotion in the background, like someone was fighting, but that all faded when you heard your favorite voice, “This is the Sunny.”

“Sanji! Thank god, I heard you got into a fight with Flamingo. Are you okay?” You asked a relieved sigh leaving your chest.

You heard a chuckle through the snail, making you smile, “Of course I’m fine Darling, even better now that I know you’re okay.”

“Ugh, gross.” Zoro groaned, and you shot him a glare.

“Shut it, mosshead!” Sanji yelled before asking Chopper to call Usopp.

Once the whole crew was able to talk, you caught each other up on everyone's situation. Everyone was relatively safe except for your group, who were now running from the Marines while talking.

You guys were trying to figure out the next step when Franky cut in, asking Luffy if he could join the fight to take down DoFlamingo.

Apparently, Dressrosa was a living hell, and there was a resistance of little fairy type people ready to fight for their freedom. Honestly, after learning everything you have about this place and the family running it, you couldn’t help but want to fight, too. Thankfully, Luffy instantly agreed, telling your cyborg crewmate that you guys would back him up.

“Alright, we’re coming back,” Sanji announced, and you felt your shoulders relax despite the effort of running.

He was coming back to you.

“Wait,” Nami’s voice came through the snail, making you tense up again, “We need to strategize this. There are three pieces to this, and we have two of them right here; it’s smarter if we take them as far away as we can.”

“But-“

“Listen,” Sanji’s voice was cut off by Nami’s, “I know you want to go back for Y/N, but we can’t. This is the smartest plan.”

“I agree with Nami; you guys head on to Zou; we’ll meet up there,” Luffy said, his voice deeper from exertion.

It was quiet for a moment before you let out a frustrated groan, “Sanji…”

“I know.” You heard your boyfriend sigh.

The captain made his decision, and as his crew, you had no choice but to follow.

So, the plan was set.

“Alright, listen up, you guys, if Y/N comes back to me with even a scratch I’ll kill you, understood?!” Sanji demanded through the snail, making you chuckle, “And Robin! I better not see any injuries on her, either!”

“Would you shut the fuck up, stupid cook?”

“I mean it, you directionally challenged moss ball! I’ll cook you alive if she gets hurt!”

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try!”

“Would you two shut up!” Usopp yelled, breaking up the hourly Zoro and Sanji argument.

You smiled despite the burning in your body from all the running.

The details of the plan were made, and time was running out as buildings started slicing in half. Usopp and the others hung up, and Luffy ran off to continue his fight.

The transponder snail looked up at you from its place on your palm, curly eyebrows letting you know who held the other one.

“Sanji?”

“Yes, my love?”

Fear settled in your chest as more buildings began to crumble out of nowhere, “I’ll see you in Zou, right?”

You heard Sanji chuckle again before he answered,

“Of course you will.”

Taglist – @ninjanyers @snixx2088 @llynx7 @aiaiaiaiiaiiaii @secretlife028 @uay778 @an-angst-enthusiast @ghostercy @idcalol @frxcless @irishbl0ss0mz @ms-longbeach @writing-fanics

Idky but I just really wanted to write this prequel so here you go😅🫶

[hobohobgoblim]

Caesar? I hardly know her.

[floofyboi57]

Caesar? I hardly know her—

*gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️* *gets stabbed 🗡️*

[caesar-i-hardly-know-her]

Caesar? I hardly know her!

It's almost the Ides of March and you know what that means...

And of course, if we can get 10k votes on this, I will make the salad. Last year I didn't get to make it. Let's change that this year!