#it came out differently than I had imagined | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cybrasigilism · 2 days ago

Text

Nothing Like A Sharp Dressed Man (Nam-gyu X F!Reader ONESHOT)

character: nam-gyu (player 124)

A/N: saw a drawing someone made of nam-gyu in his work attire pre the squid games and my mind got straight to work. i know this is not requested but i need to indulge in some OG works from time to time. enjoy!! (THE SMUT PART IS A BIT SHORT I FEEL, I APOLOGIZE)

MDNI! 18+ content beneath the cut, reader’s discretion is advised

your experience with roommates was interesting, to say the very least. it truly was luck of the draw when it came to the array of characters you’ve shared a space with— but hey, anything to stay afloat and pay rent, especially in this economy.

when you first met your latest roommate, nam-gyu, you were certain the two of you would not get along. he was smarmy, standoffish, and just plain rude. not to mention he was a complete hypocrite; whenever you had a friend over at any point of the day, you would get texts from him telling you to keep it down (or rather “shut the fuck up”, if you were going to quote him directly) due to him having to work later that night. but whenever he had friends over at ungodly hours of the night, making all sorts of noise and blaring music, you weren’t allowed to comment on it. he wouldn’t fight you on it, but you may as well not say anything because it truly is in one ear and out the other with nam-gyu.

you two never agreed on anything. you were almost always at each others throats, it even got to a point where you would go out of your way to spite one another— for example, one of you might use the last of something without replacing it, or say if you wanted to watch TV in the living room; you had better make it snappy to claim your spot or else nam-gyu will have “spontaneously” decided that he wanted to watch TV too. i mean, god forbid you two actually watch something together, that would require tolerating each other’s presence for more than 3 minutes and that was definitely out of the realm of possibility.

or so you thought.

up until a certain point you actually had no idea what nam-gyu did for work. all you knew was that his shifts were at obscene hours, and he would always wake you up when he got back home with the ridiculous amount of noise he made coming in the house. you were mystified when you caught a glimpse of him all dressed up in his full-black business attire. you didn’t really get a chance to take the view in though, because he was out the door before he noticed you staring. you remember feeling your cheeks heat up, butterflies in your stomach— oh my god,

did you find him.. hot?

you doubted these feelings at first, telling yourself that even if this was how you felt about him dressed like that— nothing would ever come of it. as far as you knew, nam-gyu hated you just as much as you did him, right?

right?

you tried to remind yourself that this was your combative, hypocritical, asshole roommate. this was the guy who always got the last slice of pizza just as you were about to grab it; the guy who uses up the hot water before you take a shower; the guy who.. looked really good in those dress pants from the glimpse you got at him—shit. you were completely cooked. you knew you were cooked when you caught yourself waiting to hear nam-gyu leave his room, so you could sneak a peek of him in that damned uniform before he left for work; you definitely knew you were cooked when you found yourself fantasizing about him. you had to fill in some details with your imagination, which was the worst mistake you could have made because god that just made you crave him more. you should have been completely ashamed with your actions when he started coming to mind while you fucked yourself; imagining his hands in place of your own between your legs, wondering what his moans sounded like. fuck, you knew he would kill you if he found out about how perverse you had become. but that would never happen. i mean, you were being discreet…. right?

unfortunately, you weren’t being as discreet as you apparently thought. one faithful night, while you were trying to sneak a peek at nam-gyu getting ready to head out the door, he noticed you. fuck, you thought, whipping around the corner so fast you hoped he hadn’t realized what you were doing. the feeling of butterflies was more-so out of nervousness now, you tried to rationalize to yourself as you paced in your room, biting your nails anxiously. “maybe he won’t suspect anything, i mean how could he? it was just this once..” you tried to think critically here, how would he be able to deduce that you were undressing him with your eyes just then— and had been for the past dozen nights? you figured it would be best to just sleep it off, and hope he didn’t ask any questions in the morning.

⟢

a loud knock jolted you awake. you glanced at your phone. “4:22?” you knew who it was, but why was he knocking on your door at 4:22 in the morning? nam-gyu knocked again, to which you drowsily said “i’m coming, i’m coming.” as you threw on your sleep shirt, baggy enough to shield your lack of pants. you opened the door to see nam-gyu, still in that uniform. you must have been giving him quite the look, because he raised his eyebrow and snapped his fingers almost in your face. “hey, my eyes are up here dipshit.” you jumped, making direct eye contact with him, not realizing where you had just been looking. “what the fuck what was that earlier? didn’t take you for a stalker.” damn, he was onto you.

“a stalker? no i was just..” “just what?” he cut in, causing you to purse your lips in frustration. “just getting more visual material to jack off to later?” your eyes widened when he said that, causing him to laugh in a way that you knew was at your expense. “god.. i had a feeling that was it.” he scoffed, you felt your cheeks grow warmer by the second with embarrassment. “you really didn’t think i could hear you moaning my name through the wall? hell i’d be surprised if the neighbours didn’t hear..” you couldn’t bear to look at him anymore, you were humiliated. had you really been so fucked out of your mind that you didn’t catch yourself moaning his name? “look, i’m sorry… i should have never even—“ you started, actively avoiding his eyes. he did something then that caught you off guard entirely. he grabbed your chin, redirecting your gaze to meet him. “sorry? shit, if you’re gonna be a dirty little slut, don’t apologize for that.” you were confused, even more so because that little name he called you made you feel.. something.

nam-gyu knew what he was doing to you, and he was about to take full advantage of that. for some reason, having you at his mercy like this was totally turning him on. he couldn’t deny the way his pants tightened when you looked at him like that— fuck it. “oh..” he noticed the way you pressed your thighs together just then. “oh, you like it when i call you that.. don’t you?” you nodded instinctively. his grip shifted from your chin to your throat, squeezing lightly as he moved in close enough to whisper to you. a light moan leaving your lips as he did so.

“then why don’t you show me how much of a slut you can be.”

⟢

you don’t know how you got into this situation, having nam-gyu’s dick shoved between your lips, but you really couldn’t bring yourself to mind. his grip on your head was almost strong enough to be painful, but you were too focused on the sounds he was making to be bothered by it.

“oh fuck… fuck, your lips—“ he groaned, bucking his hips up into your mouth. you whined around him when the tip of his dick hit the back of your throat, but that only egged him on. “yeah, you like being used like this, huh?” he was enjoying this way more than you thought, hell he was so eager to have your mouth on his cock he didn’t even take his clothes off. not that you minded, of course. “you’ve been waiting for me to fuck your mouth like this, haven’t you?” nam-gyu’s words were broken up by moans and whimpers he failed to mask; you really had no idea the effect you had on him up until this point. just then, he pushed your head down as far as you could go, mustering a gag out you.

“it’s rude to ignore people when they ask you a question.” he said through gritted teeth, chest heaving from how good your mouth felt on his dick. you looked up at him, eyes watering. “answer me, bitch.” whether it was the way he looked so. damn. good in the uniform, or the way he was ordering you around like a dog; you felt your pussy clench around nothing, god you needed him right were he wasn’t so bad it hurt. you nodded, hoping that if you did what you were told, then he would finally cut to the chase and fuck you. “oh, so you can follow orders.” he smirked, pulling your head off his dick and sitting back onto your bed. “in that case, ride me.” your eyes widened, but you did what he said without a word, straddling him as though you were in a trance.

both you and nam-gyu made an indescribable sound of pleasure when you sunk down onto his cock. his gripped your hips as you did so, sliding you down even faster. you cried out, and he kept you bottomed out on his dick for a moment. you thought for a second that it was to allow you time to adjust to the full length of him, but he wasn’t that nice. you were just getting used to him when he began to move you up and down his dick, biting his lip as he did so. “oh my fuck!” you moaned out, planting your hands onto nam-gyu for balance. his grip on your hips was so firm you were positive he would bruise you, but you didn’t really give a shit then; too focused on how fucking amazing his cock felt inside you then. “shit, you sound like such a whore—“ he was one to talk, becoming less and less able to cover up his own slutty noises. “it’s good i’m fucking you like the little slut you are then—fuck.”

even on top you were completely at his mercy, and you loved it. you loved the way he fucked up into that tight pussy of yours almost carelessly, you loved being able to take in the full sight of him in his work clothes while he did it to. the way his shirt, unbuttoned down his chest, looked disheveled as he used you this way; the way you knew you were making a mess of his pants when your hips collided; the way he was so desperate to put you in your place like this that he saw no time to change out of the outfit he knew got you off in the first place. everything that was happening to you right now under any other circumstance would have not turned you on this much, but for some reason that outfit changed everything.

and you definitely didn’t want it to stop anytime soon.

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

thanks for reading! i apologize for the lack of dialogue, this was just an idea i had and i wanted to put it to “paper” as soon as possible! thank you guys for putting up with my self-indulgent nonsense again :P

as usual, any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested! have a fantastic day/night lovelies 💋

tags: @gongyoosgf @kouzih @strangelife122 @gabbystinks

#squid game 2 #squid game #squid game smut #fanfiction #squid game x reader #x reader fanfiction #x reader smut #imagines #smut drabble #nam gyu #player 124 x reader

216 notes · View notes

shanefuckingscott · 3 days ago

Text

Can I butter your muffin? 🦾

Imagine, Sevika buttering your muffins?! 😍🦾

🚫Men and Minors DNI🚫

You like baking—No, you love baking. You wake up early in the morning to bake some bread, or pastries for Sevika. You enjoy it, it calms your mind. Sevika likes seeing you be in your own little world sometimes, playing some tunes, humming, and swaying your hips, while mixing ingredients together. You're rarely ever messy too. You always say "A clean kitchen key to being a good chef/baker" You're a good cook too. You know how to cook all of Sevika's comfort foods, but for fun, you bake alot.

You often visit Silco's office to hand out some cupcakes, cookies, pies, or brownies. Sevika loves this about you, how caring, and generous you are. When she had a particularly stressful day, you'd just something sugary out of the oven you baked early that mornin, and put it in Sevika's mouth. She doesn't like overly sweet foods, so you often make a different batch for her with much less sugar.

Her favourite baked goods from you are bread, pastries, pies, and muffins. She often watches you bake, and she just zones out, and she just stares at you for long periods of time studying you, and then get surprised when you're don, like "How did you make that, into that?!" She says pointing to the ingredients, and to your creation. You chuckle at her, "Sevika, you've been watching me make it for the past hour, what do you mean how?" You guys just laugh, and eat it together. She likes it, and she wasn't much of a sweet tooth before, and she still isn't, but she consumes much more sugar from being with you for only a couple months, than she did her whole life.

Sevika once tried to help you bake a carrot cake. she had gotten you carrots smuggled from topside, and she brought 3 bags full of em. You had already made your batter, and left to go to the bathroom, and let Sevika to finish the work for you, since it was an easy task. Atleast, you thought so. Her job was to smush the carrots, and put it in the already made batter. She was only instructed to put 3 cups of grated carrots, mix it, and stick it in the oven. When you came back, the carrot cake looked like a smoking pile of mush. She put too much carrots. The batter was already cooked, and putting it in the oven again would likely just burn it, but the carrot made it extra moist, the cake basically just looks like, mushed carrots. She put her face on your chest, and tell you "There's something wrong with the cake" to hide her embarrassment. You chuckle at her, and since there was no fixing it, you just plated it, and put some icing on it, and ate the mush with Sevika.

She said it was the best tasting carrot cake she's ever had. You just nod and roll your eyes at your girlfriend, and decide to give some to the neighbors that just had a baby, since the carrot cake wasn't too sweet, and it was mushy.

There where other times, in which Sevika offered to help, but always ending with either your kitchen ruined, or your cakes. And with that you said enough, and often times you just find ways to distract your girlfriend from coming into the kitchen. "U-uhm, babe, I think that show you're watching is on, it's 4:30." You remind her, and she'd withdraw her offer, and go to the living room to watch her favourite show. You always timed your baking hours to her being busy, and so instead of you saying sorry, it'd be her, (You psycho) Unless it's time to wash the dishes, and with that, you check mate her again, "You're always busy, babe!" with a little reverse psychology, but you only ever do that in those circumstances. You hate the dishes, it's valid.

One rainy afternoon, you were baking Sevika's favourite muffins, while she was laying on the couch, reading a book. You were about to pull it out of the oven, when Sevika clears her throat. "Is your muffin buttered?" She asks, and you look at her raising an eyebrow, confused. She grins at you, and clears her throat again, "Would you like me to butter your muffin?" She asks, with a look in her eyes, only you were able to see. You giggle, and roll your eyes. "Very funny, Sevi" She giggles at you, and makes grabby hands at you, and you quickly give her a stick of butter, and a muffin. "There, butter your own muffins" You joke at her. She pouts at you, so you roll your eyes, and take the muffin from her hands.

"There, butter my muffins, Sevi" And with that, she's rubbing the stick of butter on the muffin, as she snickers, and laughs at her own antics. You roll your eyes, and shove the muffin in her mouth. "There, isn't that better?" You tease, she's laughing as she's chewing the muffin, and suddenly her face looks like she just had a clever idea come in. She pulls your waist, and makes you sit on her lap. She looks at you, as she sucks the rest of the muffin residue on her fingers. She smirks at you.

"You're right. Eating your muffins is way better."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I might make a smut version of this tomorrow, called "Cream in my pie" I kinda wanna make this a series, I have so many sexual baking jokes, I won't seem to run out. For now, hehe, hope you enjoy.

Ps. I kinda took some inspiration from another carrot cake incident I saw on facebook I just read, and boy, was it funny, but I accidentally removed the tab, so now it's lost forever. I tried searching for like, 3 hours. But, props to that guy, hehe

163 notes · View notes

penn-dragon · 3 days ago

Text

You’ve activated my trap card: infodumping my thoughts about Sanji’s fucked up relationship with vulnerability and intimacy.

I remember reading something once that talked about how many men struggle with discerning the difference between the desire for intimacy and the desire for sexual satisfaction because the two are so often considered synonymous for men in society. One person talked about how her partner thought he had ED issues until they started exploring different ways to fulfill his emotional needs and he learned the difference between being horny and wanting emotional closeness. That’s always kind of stuck with me, the way men are expected to fulfill all of their emotional needs through sex with romantic partners, because wanting non-sexual intimacy is something seen as “girly” or “weak.” And I’ve thought about it a lot in regards to Sanji and his relationship to masculinity and vulnerability.

Sanji has a very hard time expressing his kind and vulnerable side because of the abuse he suffered as a kid. After he ran away from Germa, he learned to act like a tough little asshole as a defense mechanism, because there was no one to protect him anymore. Even after Zeff took him in as someone who genuinely loves him, Zeff basically acts the same way, being rough and tumble ex-pirate who communicates his love to Sanji in more subtle ways. So being raised by him pretty much reinforced that switch in his personality to only showing his kindness in ways that are considered acceptable for a man (cooking, flirting with women, ect.)

Sanji is most comfortable putting on a tough guy persona and acting like an asshole, even if his actions directly contradict it (e.g. saying he only saves women only to risk his life throwing Usopp out of danger three seconds later). Which is something a lot of people in One Piece do, but Sanji takes it to another level, because even now he has his family’s voices in the back of his head telling him he’s weak, a failure, subhuman. Rather than just a front to act tough, I think Sanji genuinely feels unsafe showing the parts of himself he was told make him weak. He trusts his friends with his life, but childhood trauma dies hard and the traumatized child inside him still thinks showing kindness and vulnerability leads to pain, and as such he still struggles to be truly emotionally vulnerable with people, ESPECIALLY other men, who he sees as the bigger threat.

However, fearing your emotional needs doesn’t make them go away. Sanji LOVES people. Despite his incurable asshole disease, he’s extremely personable. He has a big bleeding heart and cares so deeply for the people around him. He craves connection, and I think that goes doubly so for a romantic relationship, because Sanji loves so intensely. I think in a relationship with Zoro they would have a hard time getting into sync at first. Falling in love with Zoro came out of LEFT FIELD for Sanji, it was in NO WAY something he was prepared for and is nothing like he ever imagined, therefore it’s completely uncharted territory. They suck at communicating because Zoro doesn't always realize things need to be said out loud and Sanji’s afraid to ask. He’s especially not comfortable with the idea of wanting intimacy from Zoro. Despite the inherent trust and respect they have for each other, their relationship has always been volatile, electric, violent. There’s no room for softness. Men aren’t supposed to want tenderness from other men. He’s not supposed to want closeness from Zoro. That’s not how they are, that’s not what he pretends he is.

Sex on the other hand, sex is safe. Men are supposed to want sex—expected to—and while sex and emotional intimacy often go hand in hand it’s not scoffed at the way non-sexual intimacy is. He’s able to fulfill some of the desire for closeness through sex without completely opening himself up to vulnerability. But wanting sex and wanting intimacy aren’t the same thing, and Sanji’s not actually allowing himself what he needs. Enter Zoro figuring out what Sanji’s doing after he reaches a breaking point (starts sobbing half-way through sex which PANICS THE HELL out of Zoro) and being like “yeah I’m not letting him do that anymore” and starts opening up the option for different kinds of intimacy in their relationship in a way that doesn’t make Sanji feel exposed or demeaned.

I have a headcanon that Sanji struggles with wanting/asking for non-sexual intimacy from Zoro. So if he's having a rough day or just wants to be held by the man he loves he'll initiate sex in order to feel that connection, regardless of whether he's actually in the mood. But Zoro's gotten unnervingly good at telling when he's doing this and redirecting to give him what he actually needs in that moment.

#long post #sex ment-#yes I did just write almost 800 words talking about this peace ✌️#rambles

4K notes · View notes

yaoiification · 1 day ago

Note

Your headcanons are so delicious🤌

Can you imagine taking Caleb’s virginity? All those years of pining and teasing and cold, cold showers….

Thank you for this omg I love virgin Caleb

Surely Caleb must have realized how thin the walls are by now. Even with his shirt in his mouth to muffle his whines it was obvious what he was doing every night.. and morning.. and sometimes in the middle of the day. Did he not realize how obvious he was being when he suddenly excused himself to go take a cold shower after your cuddling on the couch got a little more touchy than usual?

This time was no different. It was late- you both should’ve been asleep by now. Instead you lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling while trying to block out the sound of your adopted brother thrusting into his hand on the other side of the wall. You normally wouldn’t mind- sometimes you’d even press your ear against the wall and close your eyes, trying to imagine how he looks as he whimpers against his sheets. Tonight, however, you needed to sleep and his pathetic little noises weren’t helping.

Caleb never locked his door; he’d always reminded you that he would always be there for you whenever you needed him. He’d never thought you’d need him at 11:30 PM though.

Dressed in one of the shirts you’d stolen from him and nothing else, you swing open his door right as your name escapes his lips.

He scrambles to cover himself, but the friction of his sheets against his painfully hard cock sends a shiver through his body and a quiet yelp slips out.

“Having trouble sleeping?” He finally manages to stutter as if he’d not been moaning your name moments prior. Then his eyes slide down your body, seeing nothing but bare skin under his shirt. The fabric barely conceals you, covering just enough to hide the wetness between your thighs.

“You’re being too loud.”

You wouldn’t normally be this bold, but those years of secretly sneaking lustful glances at each other, of hands wandering just a little too far for siblings, and ensuring that no one came between the two of you had led you to this moment. He doesn’t stop you when you pull back his sheets; he just gives you those pathetic puppy eyes as the cold air hits his sensitive skin.

“I’m sorry”

Ignoring his words, you climb on top of him, legs straddling his as you cover his mouth with your palm.

“Be quiet.”

He’s never felt himself ache like this before. His eyes widen as your other hand slips downwards, wrapping itself around his cock. Caleb shakes his head as his eyes beg you to stop. You shouldn’t be doing this. But you know he needs it. You’ve heard him mumbling fantasies just like this countless times from the other side of the wall. He needs it.

His eyes roll back as he feels you press him against your drenched core. It takes everything in him not to climax right then and there, but he manages to hold out. You slip his length inside with ease as if you were made for each other. His whole body trembles beneath you as you feel him panting beneath your palm. His whines only get louder as you move- not even riding him, just readjusting your position. It’s clear he can’t take much more. His eyes meet yours once more and he silently pleads for it to stop- he can’t take it, it’s too much. You nod, the gesture giving him enough confirmation that he had permission.

You take your palm away from his lips as he cums, his whole body shaking from pleasure as he whimpers and moans before your lips crash against his. Caleb’s hands move to your hair, wrapping themselves around you just to hold you closer. Your lips against his are the only thing stopping him from waking the whole neighborhood with his desperate whines.

Eventually, he comes down from his high and you manage to peel yourself away from him, allowing him to catch his breath. He can’t meet your eyes, ashamed of reaching his peak within seconds of being inside of you. You slowly move away, releasing him from the softness and warmth of your pussy. Just that act alone causes him to choke and you can see a tiny dribble of cum escape his tip. While he’s still catching his breath, you lean down and kiss it, licking up the tiny droplets that slip down the side. Then you simply hop up and give him a teasing grin before giving him a quick peck on the lips, letting him taste himself.

He’s still in a daze as you slip out of his room and back into your own, but a few minutes later you hear the sound water running. It seems like another cold shower is needed.

#lads #love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #lads caleb #lads fic #lnds #lnds caleb #love and deepspace fic #lads smut #love and deepspace smut #I’m not proofreading anything #Caleb smut

189 notes · View notes

soleilapproves · 11 hours ago

Text

ex-convict!sukuna tries to talk to burnt out!reader about her feelings but she dismisses him. not proofread, sorry :(

prompt for more context

Anxiety lathered your back in cold sweat as you received your exam sheet from your TA, not bothering to look twice at your haphazard state before moving on to the next person.

You knew there was a reason why your paper was given to you faced down while your friend received hers with bright red numbers beaming up at her. You knew it was just your insecurity speaking to you, but it really did feel like the entire classroom of seventy-five people were staring at you. Even if your seat was all the way in the corner and Sukuna’s faded brown leather jacket basically cloaked you into invisibility.

You weren’t sure how you accidentally snagged it in the first place, all you remember was that you had slept with him the night before an important exam and rushed out with his jacket instead of your oversized hoodie that you sported for the Walk of Shame. It was the only thing comforting you at the moment. The familiar smell of nicotine and wet grass clouded your senses as you imagined him holding you close with his fingers stuffed in your cunt and his lips on your neck after yet another failure.

Just how many times were you going to go to him to comfort yourself? It was starting to become a habit that shaved you to your bones.

Your chest tightened as the ceiling got lower and lower to the point where you could feel the bright fluorescent lights burning the brittle hair on your scalp. The brick walls engulfed you till yours bones crunched and your muscles tightened.

Without thinking twice, you grabbed your worn denim satchel as you silently raced out the lecture hall, trembling like a fawn. Your boots splashed against the wet ground as you walked towards the back of the building and slid down on the wall while hugging yourself.

Your closed palm held your failure. Your crushed and creased exam sheet. A part of you wanted to grind it to nothing under your boots, but a part of you still had a sense of accountability so you shoved it in Sukuna’s jacket.

While fishing around in his pockets, you found two very interesting things—a leaf of acetaminophen tablets, and a pack of cigarettes. You knew he smoked with the way his jacket smelled but you’d never seen him do it. The leaf of tablets led you to believe that he must’ve been trying to quit.

You’d never been a smoker, always worried that you’d get addicted once you started, becoming a slave to the little white cylinder, but today was different. It was your last chance at passing the class. The last quiz you could get good grade on before failing the entire class even after giving the final.

You assumed he could always quit faster with one less cigarette in the box so you decided to look for a lighter and found one in his inner pocket.

“What the fuck are you doing?” A large, tattooed hand snatched the cigarette and lighter from your grasp. Sukuna stared at you like you’d betrayed him. You groaned to yourself as you rubbed a hand down your face. You’d forgotten you had texted him to pick you up after class.

This confrontation was of your own design.

“Smoking, what do you think? Give that back,” you got up and tried to snatch it away, but he had managed to grab the box from you as well and thrown it down on the ground, immediately crushing it with his boots.

“I can’t believe you’d destroy pricey cigarettes like that,” you quipped as you shrugged off his jacket, but he grabbed on to your shoulders, preventing you from doing so. “It’s cold.”

Of course, a man of few words when it finally came to talking about something than yourself. “Come on, I’ll drop you home,” his large hand grabbed yours as he briskly walked to his jeep that was parked nearby.

Like clockwork, you pulled him into a rough kiss as he got into the driver’s seat, but he pulled away, a string of saliva thinning into air as held you in place by your shoulders. “What’s wrong?” Your usual routine with him was very predictable—you’d call him to let out some stress, make out a little in his car once he’d come and get you, then go to his place.

Not once had he complained, except for a few instances where he’d insist on fucking you after making you come, not even bothering to ask you to return the favor; a strange occurrence for a ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement. Especially with someone as rugged as him.

Usually jail would harden a man up, turn him into an insensitive boor, but it felt the opposite when he’d treat you rather gently: a hand on the small of your back as you’d try to get into his monstrous jeep, or checking in with you after you’d pass out as soon as he pulls out.

It was unexpected yet strangely welcoming.

“You look terrible,” he grimaces. Your cold sweat begins to dry up with the heat of your rage. “Wow. I know I’m not the hottest girl out there, but you really didn’t need to rub it in. I’m out.” He grabs your satchel before you can leave with it. It hangs between you both much like your relationship.

“Don’t get out. I didn’t mean it like that. You just… look really tired.”

You stare at him for a long time before you place your bag back in your lap. You stare ahead at the expanse of fir trees and grass as you lean back in your seat. “Since when did you care about any of that? Let’s just go to your place.”

“When was the last time you had a full night’s rest?” he asked as he started his car. He snatched your satchel and threw it in the backseat. A usual practice for him, although, it was you in the back with him while your bag sat in the front.

“Why are we even talking about this? You’re being weird.” Sukuna’s knuckles turn white at your comment, gripping the steering wheel harder. Your mind races about all the possible ways he could kill you right now. You never really argued with him because you were too afraid to see what he’d be like with his patience on its final thread.

However, you pushed that line today. He was over the edge. You could tell with the way his brows furrowed and his lips flattened ever so slightly. The jeep hadn’t picked up speed. Thank goodness for that.

“You’re in college. You need to take care of yourself,” he flatly said as he made a turn towards his apartment complex.

“Why do you care? You’re not my bo—“

There it was. The taboo word. He sure as hell wasn’t your boyfriend, but he didn’t like the reminder of it either. Only replying to you in grunts and hums when you’d say it. And it wasn’t like you both were that talkative with each other in the first place.

“I’m just worried about you.”

Now he was crossing the line. A boundary you built with ever so shaky hands, so thin that you’d topple over to him if he’d show the least bit affection. You knew he wanted in. You could tell with the way he’d hold your face when his lips would slot themselves on yours. When you’d taste yourself on his tongue.

But you couldn’t let him. It wasn’t right. You’re both fucked up, albeit, in different degrees, but still very messed up with the things going on in your lives.

You did not want him to know what really went on in your mind. Never open the door for a stranger. Even if he knows all about how your body sings for him when he caresses your core.

“Stop the car.”

“What the fuck? We’re about to reach.”

“I said, stop the car. I’m gonna walk home.”

“It’s raining, at least let me drop you off.”

“Stop the car or I’ll jump out.”

You didn’t look back at Sukuna’s face as you walked away. Nor did you tell him that you’d see him later. You both knew he would. Your texts would always come in when you’d be feeling even lower than you presently were.

And then from Sukuna’s jacket (that you were still wearing), you took out a singular, slightly bent cigarette.

—

more ex-convict!sukuna fics

167 notes · View notes

drownedthemall · 2 days ago

Text

sweetness of her laughter

part 2 - misjudged

next part

caracalla x noble!reader x geta

2.1k words

a/n - i didn’t expect anyone to even read this fic !! especially part one, that part really is not that good :)

summary - you’ve been escorted to rome on behalf of the emperors. you stand before them, what will they decide to do with you now?

There was a change in the atmosphere, you could feel it. This led you to believe that you were now in Rome. Not only did it feel like the temperature rose to an unsettling degree, but the sheer amount of people surrounding every street was unimaginable. People were stood staring, some were almost clawing their way through to see who was the person General Acacius was accompanying. Not just accompanying, but personally escorting to see the Emperors. You weren't very talkative with the General throughout your travels together. But now, you couldn't help but ask questions as you were nearing the residence of the Emperors.

"General?" you ask, which came out way quieter than you had imagined, but fortunatley he heard you.

"Yes, Princess?"

"Are you aware of how many other nobles will be part of this whole fiasco..?", you fumble with your hands as you speak. You try to ignore his stare and redirect yours to the outside. You noticed carriages further away, of what seemed to have once been free people, were now slaves, getting carted away. The carriage tilts enough for the sun to dust your face, blinding you momentarily. "You are the first they've decided to personally invite.", his sombre voice declares.

You begin to feel nauseous at the statement. "What?" is all you can muster. He laughs at your reaction, finding amusement in your whirling storm of emotions.

"They have been sending out letters to a select few nobles that they deemed 'worthy', and they all eagerly accepted, except..." he nods to you.

"So, just because of that, I'm the first on the menu?" you huff, you had changed into your royal garments by now, but they were still too warm for such a climate. "Even then it wasn't my doing." you mull over your thoughts.

"All I can say is, good luck, Princess," he says with sincerity, hand over his chest. Symbolising his heart.

You shake your head, you can basically feel the aura of the Emperors oozing and you're not even there yet. You were unnerved that the Emperors even knew of your existence, the fact they chose you over your sister, who despite her attitude, was more than prepared to rule. You, however, were not, you knew of your sister's claim to the crown, which you had no issue with. You did what you were interested in and never bothered to even think of leading a Kingdom, and sure as hell, not the Roman Empire. You enjoyed having close to no responsibilities. You sigh, this invitation doesn't even guarantee you'll be Empress, this will only be a play to humiliate you for your own father's misstep. You've heard many stories of the Emperors. Everyone has.

The carriage comes to a halt. You look at the General, your eyes probably resembling that of a kicked puppy. He chuckles and pats your shoulder, "Come on, kid." He steps out of the carriage, holding out his hand for you to take. You see the stark difference between your own and his. His definitely belonged to that of a general, they were worn, rough, and showed years of commitment to his work. Despite you also having skills in weaponry, yours didn't compare one bit. You felt respect for him and his dedication.

You oblige and accept his hand, stepping out and feeling the sun above and its effects already. He holds onto your hand for longer than you deem necessary but appreciate it nonetheless. He and some praetorians guide you into where the Emperors reside. As you step foot inside, you feel relief from the cool marble beneath you and around you. You felt as if you could finally breathe again. That semblance of peace doesn't last long as you reach the room where they are known for throwing all sorts of celebrations

Your breath hitches. It seems it was just them two. The one who you assumed to be Caracalla was sprawled out and shamelessly enjoying the company of his concubines. Their hands reached and groped at his pale skin and silk. He was lavished in gold, from earrings to rings, to cuffs and all sorts of gold embellishments throughout his toga. The gold stood out against his complexion. Then there was Geta, he was also adorned in riches, but he on the other hand was mostly glamoured with silver and cooler tones of silk. However, their concubines weren't as bare either. Some of them, the favoured ones you presume, were also glistening in jewels. It was a sight to see. A sore one, but a sight. The both of them really did have an aura around them, no wonder people call them gods.

Geta seemed lost in thought as he swirled the deep red wine in his cup, staring off into the distance. They must be waiting for someone. Small giggles and sweet nothings can be heard from Caracalla's entourage, with him indulging in their soft-spoken words.

They hadn't yet registered the presence of you two, as neither you nor the general wanted to step to the centre of the room. However, Caracalla perked up as he noticed a glimmer of Acacius' armour.

He smiles broadly, "Acacius!!", he announces with his arms wide open. Geta looks over and wordlessly signals for the both of you to come closer. Each step on the marble floor felt slower than the next. As if you were walking to your death. The two Emperors shoo away the whores surrounding them, wanting to dedicate all of their attention to the entertainment that stood before them.

The General stands tall and begins, "Emperor Caracalla, Emperor Geta", he greets as he directs his attention to each of them.

"Acacius.", Geta greets in return, "Seems you have now earned your awaited respite, have you not?" he says stone-faced.

Caracalla finds this very humourous, giggling at his brother's words. "Yes, he really has brother, after all, he's done as asked...", lightly pointing in your direction, eyeing you, fiddling with his rings. His eyes scope you from head to toe, lingering on every uncovered area of your body. Which didn't leave him satisfied. Your attire didn't match those of the Romans. You feel your skin crawl, uncomfortable at such ogling.

From what you understood, Acacius had already conquered Numidia and was sent to get you straight after his conquest. You suppose that explains his unwillingness to negotiate. Not that the Emperors would have approved either way.

You tried to calm your thoughts and ignore one of the Emperors embedding stares. "Princess," Geta states, you politely nod, "Emperor Geta".

He hums "Hope, you weren't too startled by the entrance of our General," he fakes sincerity, barely holding back his smirk. He then glances towards his brother, who breaks like a dam.

"Haha, mhm. We're glad you're a poor shot, we wouldn't want Acacius here to have his eternal respite just yet" Caracalla laughs and giggles throughout his little joke.

"We'd have no choice but to wed Lucilla!" Geta jabs and laughs as he looks for the Generals reaction. Feeling dissatisfied when he doesn't outwardly react.

Geta calms, his demeanour changing. "But, please, don't let the avant-garde gesture affect the way you view us", he says, keeping his eyes on you. He adjusts in his seat.

Caracalla nods, "It's what needed to be done", he leans back, sprawling his legs out again.

You have trouble maintaining eye contact with either of them, transitioning from one to the other. As they settle down, Acacius pipes up. "She's travelled far, I'd suggest, Emperors, you let her rest for the day.", he tries to explain carefully.

They go silent for a second, exchanging glances. Geta starts, "You make a point, Acacius."

Caracalla nods "She should rest up and change..." he looks over you again, "..into some more appropriate clothing", he stopped mid sentence as if his thoughts drifted off elsewhere.

Geta gives him a bit of a disapproving look before directing his attention to you. "Yes, he is right, not to mention now that the General is back, the games shall finally begin.", he claps at the final statement.

"Which you will attend, Acacius", Caracalla leans forward and pointedly chuckles.

---

You were led to your personal chambers. They were guarded by two praetorians and were located close to the Emperors own. Which you weren't too fond of, it made you worry if anything.

The room was spacious, meant for royalty, you couldnt deny that. You saw that the wardrobe was open and filled with all kinds of silky clothing for you to wear. Which you knew would provide some ease for the heat you were experiencing. You’re stopped by a servant entering your chambers. You turn towards them expecting someone else.

"For you, Princess", she states as she places the bowl of fruit onto a small engraved table nearby. "From Emperor Geta himself", she finishes as she turns on her heel and leaves.

Your heart warms, this was oddly welcoming? Unexpected. However, you felt you couldn't let your guard down. You decide to change into something more comfortable before letting yourself indulge in the fruits before you.

The fruits consist of all kinds, not just home to Rome. Every single one you’ve tried so far was so sweet and refreshing. You head to the balcony with the bowl in hand. You gaze at the sky, and how it changed from all shades of blue to orange. This makes you think of home and how distant it is from where you stand now.

You wonder if your family misses you and if your father feels any remorse or regret. You've only just arrived and you feel more isolated than ever. You wonder… if this doesn't work out, will they let you go? Or will their bruised egos make sure to rid of you? You reach for another piece of sliced pear, only to feel the bottom of the bowl... You're afraid that this loneliness may affect your judgment.

Your head swiftly turns as you hear a few knocks on the door of your chamber. You waltz to the other side of the room, lightly treading to the door. As you open it, the other person doesn't wait for you to even register their presence, they just push themselves past you. You see a blur of orange and red and blink a few times before setting your eyes on them. It’s Caracalla. You've heard rumours of how unpredictable he is, well, they both are. The reason he is, however, is because of some sort of disease… If what you've heard from people is right.

"Emperor Caracalla," you say slightly flustered at his sudden entrance. You push the door shut. He waits for you and stands before you with a smile, "Princess."

You were unnerved, "Yes, Emperor..? Is there some wa-", he cut you off.

"I knocked!" he shouts, smugly.

What. You furrowed your eyebrows, "Mhm, you did..." you respond utterly confused at the declaration. He acted as if it was some sort of achievement.

Caracalla hums and takes a few steps forward, cornering you, "See? I've been on my best behaviour..." He ends this by gliding his nose against your collarbones, taking in your scent. His hands find their way to your waist, lightly taking hold of you. You feel his breath against your skin, you can smell the oils and perfumes he lathers himself with. All of a sudden you’re feeling warm again. He locks eyes with you, and this leads him to step back, slightly. "I like the change of outfit", he starts.

"The colour red…”, he begins as his eyes swerve over you, appreciating the way the silky garment is draped over your curves, “..is my favourite."

"..Oh, thank you, I'm glad then." you're unsure of what to say in this predicament.

He giggles at your response and then says calmly, "I'll let you rest," he takes your hand in his and kisses your knuckles, kissing each one separately. All while maintaining eye contact.

He then unexpectedly pulled your hand over his shoulder, making it so that there was no space between the two of you. His mouth was by your ear. "Sleep well", he whispers softly, the warmth of his breath faning over the side of your face.

You shy away at the forwardness and unexpected proximity, "..Thank you, Emperor, I hope rest finds you well." you lightly respond. You noticed that his smile widened.

"Empress." he declares, before leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek. He loosens his grip on you and scurries out of the room. Thud. The door shuts and you're left alone once more. His ghostly touches still linger on your body. Leaving you to wonder if this actually happened or if you have gone mad. You stand there in the same spot he left you, hand over your cheek. You're not sure what to feel anymore.

taglist - @duckyhowls @himikoquack <3

#caracalla #gladiator 2 #geta #geta x reader #caracalla x reader #emperor geta x reader #emperor caracalla x reader #marcus acacius #general acacius #x reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #reader insert #female reader #gladiator ii #fem reader

145 notes · View notes

izels-writing · 3 days ago

Note

Hi, I recently discovered your page and I love it! I was wondering if you could do a “to all the boys I loved before” trope with reader and James potter? Like reader is similar to Lara Jean and James to Peter Kavinsky

of course of course!! i’m not sure if you wanted the storyline or just the character-likeness, so i did a little bit of both! tysm for the request my love!💗

also gonna make this more than one part bc I don’t wanna make it super long but I don’t wanna rush it either!!

j. potter — how forever feels ! [1/?]

Pairing: james potter x fem!hopelessromantic!reader

Summary: the stars have aligned and you and james’ futures had intertwined.

Warning: surprise kiss (not in a malicious way!), anxiety, upsetting situation, james potter is a cutie i love him, fake dating trope!!!, let me know if i miss anything!

for as long as you could remember, you'd been a hopeless romantic. every love story, every gesture, and every confession of love in all the romance movies you'd seen were every idea of perfect you could imagine.

except, this idea of love often came with side effect called fear of rejection. so every crush and every feeling that ever developed for someone, you'd never admit it aloud.

so you did the next best thing. you wrote it down.

for the past couple of years, each time you'd fallen completely in love with someone—you wrote them a letter. you'd fallen for them, to you, this was your way of letting them go after the fact. you wrote the letter, pouring out your heart and then some, before stuffing the addressed but never mailed letter in a shoebox and shoving it to the back of your closet.

and from then on, you'd let go of these feelings of love that plagued your every waking moment.

and despite it sounding like many—you only had three letters so far.

the first letter you'd ever wrote was to evan rosier in your first year. before teenage drama and bullshit took over and corrupted his terrible soul, the two of you had shared a class together—potions. he was kind and sweet and very good at potions, always asking to be your partner because you weren't so good at it. it was a puppy love, with him giving you small gifts and offering to help you study. had he not been enthralled by the idea of being exactly like his family, you were sure he was it.

the second letter you ever wrote was to james potter in the fourth year. you two had signed up for a valentine's day hogsmeade trip, where the prefects were to assign everyone a partner for the day—who would then go to different stores and shops, getting into the valentine's day spirit. thinking back now, it seems silly, but to fourteen yerra-old you, it was a chance at love. when you were assigned james potter, you were thrilled. he was handsome and a famous quidditch player, he seemed like the entire package. and he was. he was a complete gentleman, holding the door open for you, buying you a small bouquet of flowers at hogsmeade, offering you his coat—the works. he was pleasant to talk to too, making you laugh and finding him and his stories rather interesting. had it not been for the fact that he was infatuated with lily evans, you would like to think you'd have gone on a few more dates after that.

and now, in you sixth year, you'd written one to benjamin jones—your best friends boyfriend. you couldn't help it, when last year you'd been paired together for care of magical creatures and began to fall for him. his kind green eyes, his sweet smile, and the way you could tell him anything and everything without him judging. he was the epitome of what you wanted. he was a friend, but you were also in love with him.

granted, he hadn't been your best friends boyfriend when you had fallen for him. that came after the fact. and while it hurt, you made peace with it once you wrote your letter.

except, your sibling had made the mistake of stumbling across the wrong box to mail. and your parents made the mistake of mailing the letters. and the mistakes rolled on from there.

and now you were left dealing with the fact that the three boys you still went to school with would read your letter.

——

"they what?!" you blurted angrily.

"they mailed the letters. i didn't realize what they were until now when evan opened his! i'm sorry, y/n!" your siblings exclaimed.

you felt your entire world spin. there was no way you could continue your day, much less your life. three boys in this school now had your innermost thoughts and feelings revealed to them. thing you'd never say aloud, much less tell them.

your breathing quickened and you felt yourself feeling lightheaded. you turned to your best friend, "i'm so sorry, i wrote that letter before you two got together,"

lie.

"i know, i know, it's okay. i know your process. why don't we go back to your dorm, okay?" she replied kindly, helping you stand.

this response eased your nerves a bit, but nonetheless, the panic was still setting in. you nodded, getting up to make your way back to your dorm. you couldn't believe this right now.

as you walked, your breathing kept quickening. you began to see dark spots and hoped you'd make it back to your dorm before any of them had the thought to come up to you.

but realizing your state, your best friend took you to the courtyard for some much needed fresh air. making students were out there, enjoying their breakfast on such a beautiful day.

a beautiful day for them.

she sat you by a concrete ledge, helping you sit properly as you attempted to calm down. you tried to breathe in and out.

"i'm going to go get you some water, okay? stay here!" she said calmly, running off.

you nodded as she left, feeling your breathing slow. there's no way any of them could think to find you out here...right?

wrong.

"l/n!" a voice called out as they ran toward you. the brown-skinned, tall, muscular boy who was the subject of your second letter made his way over to you. in his hand he held the infamous letter. you swallowed thickly.

"uhm, hi," you replied timidly.

he sat next to you, taking a deep breath and likely preparing himself for what he thought was going to be a difficult conversation. "how are you? uhm, listen i wanted to talk to you about this letter you wrote me..."

you turned to james, wishing the ground could swallow you whole. "oh?"

"yeah, listen, you're a great girl—you're beautiful and funny and smart, but uh, i don't like you that way—" james said sheepishly, hoping you wouldn't get upset.

"i don't like you anymore, james, i wrote that letter two years ago. you were never supposed to see it," you blurted your confession. he sighed and smiled.

"oh great, i was afraid—"

"y/n!" a familiar voice exclaimed. your blood ran cold.

benjamin jones.

"i'm sorry," you told james suddenly as you figured out the only escape you could.

"for what?" james questioned, but he didn't have much time to elaborate because before he knew it—you kissed him. roughly, but nicely. for a weak moment, living out a fantasy he'd had at fourteen, he kissed back.

unbeknownst to him, you took a peak and noticed that benjamin and your best friend had spotted you. she chuckled and got him to walk off with her, explaining away the letter to her boyfriend. because while she may not know the letter was not before they began dating, given the contents of it, he likely did.

you pulled away as they walked off. you looked at james apologetically.

"wait.." he muttered in confusion. "you don't like me, right?"

"i'm so sorry," you replied quickly. and just like that, you stood up and ran off.

——

after a emotionally tumultuous few days, you were finally focused back on your studies. as of right now, you were in the library and attempting to take your mind off of everything while pouring your entire brain into completing your DADA essay.

but the universe had other plans for you.

"y/n?" a familiar voice called out. you looked up and felt your heart drop. you hadn't really spoken to him since...well, since you'd kissed him.

"james, hi..." you attempted a smile, but you only looked embarrassed. and to say you felt embarrassed was an understatement.

"you're a tough girl to find, l/n," he chuckled. he took a seat across from you, nodding to your assignment sprawled in front of you. "what're you doing?"

"oh, DADA essay," you said offhandedly.

"i have no idea how to ask this, so i'm just going to ask it," he prefaced, his tone sounding confused. "uh, why did you kiss me?"

you felt your face burn up. "i'm so sorry, look i really am. it's just...you're not the only person i wrote a letter to,"

"i'm not? way to make a guy feel less special," he muttered with a slight frown. "but i was your favorite letter to write, right?" he added hopefully.

"james," you warned.

"okay, okay...but that doesn't explain why you kissed me," he grinned. "did my dashing looks just fog your mind?"

"you wish," you rolled your eyes playfully. "look, i recently wrote a letter to someone who had a girlfriend, and that girlfriend is dear to me. i didn't want to make it awkward you know? so, i thought if he saw us kissing, he'd drop it. and so far, he has..."

james nodded. "makes sense, i suppose."

his mind seemed to drift off until finally, he smiled mischievously at you. you gave him a wary look.

"we can help each other," he grinned, leaning back in his chair.

"and how do you suppose we do that?" you asked carefully.

"well you don't want this guy to think you like him right? and well, i have a problem of my own.." he explained.

"which is?" you asked.

"you know lily evans?" he asked. you nodded. "well, she's dating this tosser, really. she and i had a moment back over the summer and really, i just want her to see we're right for each other..."

you nodded. "you want to make her jealous,"

"exactly! and, if you and i pretend to date, we can get rid of both of our problems!" james added happily.

"would that even work? it's so spontaneous and sudden, people have never even seen us together besides that one hogsmeade trip two years ago," you asked warily. "it's a good idea in theory, but realistically...?"

"we'll plant roots! like i'll say i'm not understanding something and you overheard and offered to tutor me! we'll spend some time here together for like a week or two and then bam, we start going out!" he explained with a grin.

you weighed out the options. eventually you'd have to talk about it with benjamin, but not if you had a boyfriend. and it'd solve james' problem too.

"fine, but we're establishing rules. like no kissing!" you explained quickly as james began to celebrate.

"no kissing? what're you? a nun? surely you've kissed someone before," he chuckled.

you remained quiet, struggling to meet his eyes. it wasn't for lack of wanting to—you just wanted your first kiss to be perfect and special.

"i want it to be special, okay?" you snapped quietly.

"okay, okay, understandable. what else?" he asked.

"we have to spend time together actually, and learn things about each other so we're not blindsided by questions. second, we can't tell anyone—what we're doing, it's so juvenile everyone would just laugh," you added. "and, we have to try to have dates together as much as we can, make it believable,"

james nodded to everything. "i agree. but i have rules too,"

you sighed. "okay, let's hear them,"

"you have to wear my quidditch jersey and attend my games, plus go to parties with me. and, you have to come with me to the quidditch end of year ball,"

the night was notorious for quidditch players sleeping with their significant others. it was meant for sixth and seventh years to attend a ball out of hogwarts, at some other school and chatting with international teams who were scouting for their next players. it was the beginning of the year and surely the ruse wouldn't last that long. which is the only reason you did this:

"okay," you nodded with a smile.

he stuck his hand out, grinning at you. you took his hand and shook it.

"so, we have a deal," he replied.

"we do, now let me finish this essay," you joked.

"yes, ma'am," he chuckled.

#james potter #marauders era #the marauders #harry potter #lily evans #james fleamont potter #james potter x reader #james x reader #james x you #jamespotter #request #x reader

82 notes · View notes

butlervibesonly · 17 hours ago

Note

hi!! I love ur writing and I had this idea if you could please write it!? It could be Austin x actress reader, they are dating and made a movie together and now they are at some kind of interview, but they are both distracted by each others pressence 🤭 maybe like the tension between them growing visibly and it could end with some funny comments from fans? Thank you in advance! 🌼

𝑈𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒 || Austin Butler

• Pairing: Austin Butler x actress! reader

• Warnings: Austin and reader can’t take their eyes off of each other, flirting, desire,…?

• Note: HIII! What an absolutely amazing idea! You can’t imagine how I enjoyed writing this!! ( @eternal-love could tell… 😝) also! picture used at the end is fictional; created with app called TwiNote! AND YES, I HAD TO ADD THIS SONG.

You and Austin have been dating for a long time now. You both met thanks to the same industry you two work at and that nothing less than your beloved acting. Now that Hollywood has given you the opportunity, both of you were casted in a movie where you played love interests.

That was of course very easy for you, since the love you guys feel for each other is truly unconditional. When it comes to making movies there are a lot of duties to promote the movie by any kind of a way. One of them is interviews. Austin and you are on a press tour, promoting the movie you guys made and today… there is something in the air…

The bright studio lights cast a warm glow over the set, highlighting the two stars seated side by side in chairs. And that is of course you and Austin. The interviewer has barely finished the introduction before the oddly satisfying energy filled the room.

Even tho that the two of you have been together for nearly over a two years now, sitting next to each other like this, all dressed up for the press tour, makes it feel like you are back on set, falling for each other all over again.

You look absolutely breathtaking in a formal black dress in Austin’s eyes. Austin is wearing his grey shirt and black pants – so damn handsome. There are some glances between the two of you from the beginning of this interview. Something so unspoken but still so obvious.

“So,” the interviewer started, bringing you from your own thoughts. “Austin, Y/n… It’s nice to have you here today.” Both you and Austin smile warmly. “Thanks for having us.” Austin says, his voice low and deep - just like the way you love it.

“You two have worked together before, but this was your first time playing romantic opposite each other. Did that make things easier or harder?”

Austin opens his mouth to answer, but then you shift beside him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and he gets completely lost in thoughts. His gaze flickers to you, and you only, caught in the way your lips curl so slightly at the edges, because you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

You raise an eyebrow, noticing his hesitation. “Easier,” you answer smoothly, tilting your head toward him after breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Definitely easier.”

Austin clears his throat, attempting to focus on the interview that’s being recorded. “Yeah, I mean, when you already have a connection, it helps.” He finally manages to say, though his words came out slower than he wanted, as if his brain is struggling to catch up with the sight of you beside him.

“I see. So you slid into the characters pretty easily, didn’t you?” Austin chuckles, wanting to answer the question with confidence, but then your fingers brushes his to hold his hand. Just for a second, just enough to send a spark up his arm. Austin of course looses the thoughts again. You can see he is out of his straight thinking, and take over the question again.

“Mhm, yes. The characters we got to play are actually not so different from us, so it was really easy to bring those characters alive.” you smile warmly. The interviewer grins, clearly noticing the interaction of you and Austin. “You both look like you’re still in characters.”

Austin rubs his tight as he always does, his other hand rubbing his lips - as he always does. “Are we?” he smirks, letting out a laugh to ease the atmosphere in the air.

What Austin actually does is that he unbuttons the few buttons of his shirt on his chest. You peripherally see his chest glistening in the studio lights, the lust in your eyes growing stronger. Okay. Focus. Just answer the questions… goes through your head.

The interviewer is speaking about the movie, but neither you and him registers the words. You shift beside him again, crossing your leg over the other. You just look so stunning for Austin to keep his eyes off of you. Too stunning. How is he supposed to form sense able sentences when you’re sitting this close?

Little does he know that you are now kinda doing it on purpose. Austin hears his name being mentioned, knowing he needs to get back to reality from his fantasizing about you. Say something, Austin. Anything.

“So, Austin, what was your favorite scene to film?” the interviewer asks. His favorite scene? He blinks, hesitating. Right. The movie. The reason you’re both here.

His brain is stubborn, refusing to pull up any scene except for that one; The one where your hands roamed around his body, the way you whispered his name like it belonged to you. The way it never felt like acting.

“Um…” He starts searching for a savory answer. “I really liked the one that actually director decided to remove… But it was some kind of scene where Y/n and I run through the rain on a beach.”

You smirk, knowing he is lying and tries to hide his real intentions. It’s actually no longer after when you are the one being questioned, and suddenly know how it felt for Austin when you are being seduced by the sight. He’s staring.

You can feel the weight of Austin’s gaze without even looking at him. It’s been happening since you walked onto the set of this interview of course, but now it’s getting way harder to ignore. Every time you move, his eyes follow. Every time you smile, his lips twitch like he’s fighting the urge to do the same.

It’s distracting. So unfairly distracting. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, again, pretending not to notice the way his hands flex slightly, like he wants to reach out and just touch you.

As the interviewer continues to say something, you risk a glance at Austin, and sure enough, he’s already looking at you with that expression of his. His blue eyes are squinted due to his eyebrows furrowing, more intense, almost as if he has forgotten you’re supposed to be acting professional.

You notice the way his jaw clenches when he’s thinking. His fingers drumming against his knee when he’s trying to focus. The way his unbuttoned shirt opens just right, and how his cologne still lingers.

“…undeniable desire,” the interviewer says. “I mean, come on, do you two even realize how you look at each other?”

Austin finally tears his eyes from you, shaking his head with a breathy chuckle. You cross your arms, biting back a smirk. Damn yes you do. And so does everyone else.

Interviewer leans back in his chair, watching both of you being barely present. You and Austin are both trying to stay focused, you really do, but at this point, it’s a lost cause already. Every glance, every half-smirk, every moment or hesitation before answering a question. Too much to handle at this point.

The interview ends the moment, thanking you both for coming - even tho you did absolutely nothing at the interview - and with a quick glance behind the camera at his producer he grins. Yeah, this definitely going viral.

With a teasing smile the interviewer calls it a day and shakes both of your hands. “Well, I think that’s all the proof we need.” Austin’s furrows his brow. “Proof?”

You are equally confused as Austin. “Of what?”

The interview chuckles, standing up. “That the two of you are terrible at pretending you’re not totally into each other.”

Austin lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head and you groan, covering your face with one hand. “Yeah, it’s just hard not to keep eyes off of her,” Austin’s hand lands on the small of your back and you shiver at his touch.

You two walk off the set, heading into the backstage. As soon as you both arrive at the changing room, Austin smashes the door to close them. You gasp surprisingly and he leans you against the door.

“You will be the death of me, Y/l/n.” he whispers into your ears, his lips then capturing yours. He grips your hips, pulling you close enough to him as he savor the fact he can finally kiss you. Only a fool wouldn’t know how you spent the rest of the night after arriving at the hotel.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #austin butler x you #austin butler fandom #austin butler x y/n #austinbutler #austin butler fic #austin butler imagines #austin butler fluff #austin butler smut

58 notes · View notes

writeriguess · 5 hours ago

Note

Hey hun! Welcome back 😘

So, i have a kind of slow burn idea for a Bakugo x fem!reader fic. They both like each other and when she tries to ask him out or talk to him about it, he's kind of an ass 😅

He thinks she'll be in the way or a distraction to his goal, so he pushes her away. He can't get her out of his head though and their friends tell him he's being an idiot. Eventually, he cracks and tells her (in his very 'katsuki' way) that he does want to be with her.

Angst ending with lots of fluff, confessions, and a kiss please!

author's note: Thank you so much! <3 I just wanted to say that your idea was incredible, and I had such a great time writing it. It turned out to be much longer than I expected, but it was definitely worth it!

Heart of Dynamite

It started with stolen glances. You weren’t sure when you first noticed, but something about the way Bakugo Katsuki acted around you was different. He wasn’t nice, not by any stretch of the imagination, but there was something else buried beneath the rough edges and sharp remarks. A fleeting glance when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he always seemed to hover nearby during group exercises, subtly ensuring you didn’t get caught off guard.

You weren’t blind. You saw the way his crimson eyes would flick to you during lunch, only for him to look away just as quickly if you caught him. You noticed how his explosions during sparring would seem almost… controlled when directed your way—less destructive, more calculated. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you wonder. Enough to make you hope.

The problem was, Bakugo being Bakugo, he’d never admit to something as human as feelings. If he did like you, he was keeping it buried under a mountain of anger, pride, and whatever complicated emotions made up Katsuki Bakugo.

But still, the moments added up. And with each passing day, your crush grew stronger. You hated the way your heart fluttered when he called you by name instead of his usual nicknames for everyone else. You hated how you’d secretly look forward to his biting remarks because, in some twisted way, it was his version of paying attention to you.

And most of all, you hated how much courage it took to even consider confessing to him.

After weeks of agonizing over it, you finally decided you couldn’t live with the "what if." No matter what, you needed to know.

The opportunity came on a rare quiet evening at the dorms. Everyone else had gone out for karaoke, leaving you and Bakugo alone. He was sprawled on the couch in the common area, his arms crossed, staring at some mindless action movie playing on the TV.

You hovered at the doorway, your heart racing. You almost turned back, but then his gruff voice interrupted your thoughts.

"What the hell are you standing there for? You look like a damn idiot."

You flinched, but quickly steeled yourself. "I just… needed to ask you something."

His gaze flicked to you, crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "Then spit it out already. Don’t waste my time."

Your hands were clammy as you stepped closer, each word feeling heavier than the last. "Do you… want to go out with me? Like, on a date?"

For a moment, Bakugo just stared at you. His usual scowl didn’t shift, but you could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes—so quick you almost missed it. His jaw tensed, his hands clenching into fists on his lap.

Then, he scoffed. Loudly.

"You serious?" he said, leaning back against the couch like your question was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. "Why the hell would I want to go out with you?"

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your throat tightened, and your chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

"I mean, come on," he continued, his tone sharp and cutting. "What makes you think I’d waste my time on something dumb like that?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but not from embarrassment—from the sting of his rejection. You struggled to keep your voice steady. "I just thought… maybe—"

"Well, you thought wrong," he cut you off, his voice cold and unrelenting. "So stop acting like some lovesick idiot and get over it."

The silence that followed was unbearable. You felt like the floor had been ripped out from under you, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff with no way to step back.

"Got it," you said finally, your voice small and strained. You turned on your heel before he could see the tears pooling in your eyes.

Bakugo didn’t move. He stayed on the couch, staring at the TV that he wasn’t really watching. His nails dug into his palms, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath, though he wasn’t sure if he was talking about you—or himself.

Hours passed, but Bakugo didn’t leave the couch. He replayed the scene over and over in his mind: the look on your face, the way your voice had cracked when he tore you down.

He hated himself for it. Hated the way he’d lashed out, even though he knew it was because he was terrified. Of what? He didn’t know. Maybe of admitting to himself that he cared. Maybe of the fact that you could make him feel so out of control with just one stupid question.

But now it was too late. He’d pushed you away.

You, on the other hand, locked yourself in your room, curled up on your bed, and let the tears flow. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid, so naive. Of course Bakugo didn’t like you. Of course he didn’t care. You’d just been projecting your feelings onto him, imagining things that weren’t really there.

Still, the hurt lingered. You tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter, that you’d move on, but the ache in your chest said otherwise.

Little did you know, Bakugo was sitting downstairs, fists clenched, consumed by his own turmoil. Because for all his bluster, he’d never wanted to hurt you. He just didn’t know how to deal with the truth: that he did like you, more than he was willing to admit.

Bakugo tried to convince himself that what he’d said to you was necessary. He had goals—real, tangible goals—and nothing, no one, was going to distract him. Becoming the Number One Hero wasn’t just a dream for him; it was a mission, an obligation, a destiny he was determined to carve out with his own blood, sweat, and tears. He didn’t need complications. He didn’t need feelings. He didn’t need you. That’s what he told himself over and over as he sat alone in his dorm room, glaring at the wall like it had personally offended him. His fists were clenched tightly in his lap, the tendons in his hands straining from the pressure.

But no matter how hard he tried to justify it, he couldn’t shake the image of your face from his mind. The way your expression had crumbled when he snapped at you, the hurt in your eyes as you turned and walked away—it all replayed in his head on an endless, agonizing loop. He could still hear your voice trembling when you’d asked him out, soft and vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to hearing from you. You weren’t the kind of person who let your guard down easily, and he’d taken that rare moment of courage and crushed it underfoot.

“Tch,” he growled under his breath, running a hand through his hair and gripping the strands in frustration. “Stupid.”

He thought that pushing you away would make things easier, but it didn’t. If anything, it made everything worse. You were everywhere. Every time he walked into a room, his eyes automatically searched for you, even when he told himself they wouldn’t. When you laughed with your friends, the sound sent an irritating warmth through his chest, only to be followed by a sharp pang of regret when he remembered the look on your face that night. During training, he found himself tracking your every move without even meaning to, his instincts on high alert every time you dodged an attack or threw a punch. He hated it. Hated how you’d wormed your way into his head and refused to leave. Hated how much he wanted to be near you, even after he’d made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with you.

It didn’t help that everyone else seemed to notice his turmoil. His friends had started giving him strange looks during meals, their eyes darting between him and you as if they were waiting for something to happen. Kirishima, in particular, had been annoyingly persistent, watching him with that infuriatingly knowing expression he always wore when he thought Bakugo was being an idiot. Bakugo did his best to ignore it, but the tension was impossible to escape.

One evening, when the others were hanging out in the common area, Kirishima finally confronted him. Bakugo had been sitting on the couch, staring at his phone without really looking at it, when Kirishima plopped down beside him with a heavy sigh. Mina and Kaminari weren’t far behind, hovering nearby like vultures waiting for a meal.

“Alright, spill it,” Kirishima said, his voice casual but firm. Bakugo barely spared him a glance.

“Spill what?” he snapped, his tone as sharp as ever.

“Don’t play dumb,” Mina chimed in, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at him. “You’ve been acting weird for days, and we all know why.”

“I’m not in the mood for this crap,” Bakugo growled, standing up to leave, but Kirishima quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Bakugo glared at him, his crimson eyes blazing. “Move.”

“Not until you admit what’s going on,” Kirishima said, his voice steady despite the obvious tension in the air. “You pushed her away, didn’t you?”

Bakugo froze, his scowl deepening. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Kirishima said, his tone unusually serious. “Come on, man. It’s so obvious you like her. Everyone can see it.”

“I don’t—”

“Save it,” Mina interrupted, stepping closer with a look that could cut through steel. “We’ve seen the way you look at her. And don’t even get me started on the way you lose your mind whenever she partners up with someone else during training. You care about her, and instead of doing something about it, you’re being a total dumbass.”

Bakugo’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “I don’t have time for this crap,” he muttered, shoving past Kirishima and heading for the door. But before he could leave, Kirishima’s voice rang out behind him, stopping him in his tracks.

“You think pushing her away will make you stronger,” Kirishima said, his voice softer now, almost sad. “But all you’re doing is proving how scared you are.”

Bakugo’s shoulders tensed, his hand gripping the doorknob so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“You’re scared because you like her so much it freaks you out,” Kirishima continued, his tone unwavering. “But running from it won’t make it go away.”

For a moment, Bakugo didn’t move. The room was silent, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Finally, he yanked the door open and walked out, slamming it shut behind him without another word.

That night, Bakugo lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling with an intensity that could have set it on fire. Kirishima’s words echoed in his head, mingling with the memory of your voice and the image of your face. He hated how much it all got to him, how much he couldn’t stop thinking about you no matter how hard he tried. He hated the way his chest ached every time he thought about the hurt in your eyes and the way you’d walked away from him, your shoulders slumped in defeat. But most of all, he hated how much he wanted to see you again, to fix things, to say something—anything—that could make up for what he’d done.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to move on. You’d been avoiding Bakugo as much as possible, throwing yourself into training and schoolwork to keep your mind occupied. It wasn’t easy, though. Every time you saw him, whether it was in class or during meals, you felt a sharp pang of hurt that refused to go away. You hated how much he still affected you, even after he’d made it painfully clear that he didn’t feel the same way.

But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that it didn’t matter, that you’d be fine without him, the ache in your chest lingered. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been wrong to hope, if you’d been foolish to believe that he might have cared about you even a little.

Little did you know, Bakugo was sitting in his room, wrestling with his own feelings and cursing himself for the way he’d handled things. Because for all his bravado and pride, the truth was unavoidable: he couldn’t stop thinking about you. And the more he tried to push you out of his mind, the more you consumed his every thought.

The days following your rejection from Bakugo had been a haze of hurt and confusion. You tried to keep yourself busy—extra training, study sessions, anything to keep your mind from replaying the harsh way he’d dismissed you. But no matter how much you told yourself to let it go, it lingered. You still felt the sting of his words, the way he’d looked at you like you were an obstacle instead of someone he cared about. That wound didn’t heal easily.

You avoided him as much as you could. You’d shift to a different group during training, sit at the far end of the cafeteria during meals, and leave the common area whenever he showed up. It wasn’t as subtle as you hoped; your friends noticed, and you were pretty sure Bakugo did too. Still, you couldn’t face him—not after everything he’d said.

What you didn’t know was that your absence weighed on him far more than he let on.

Bakugo was not a man who easily admitted to mistakes. Pride had been ingrained in him from an early age, and he carried it like armor. But lately, that armor felt suffocating, like it was pressing in on him from all sides. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t stop replaying the hurt in your eyes when he’d lashed out. Every time he saw you purposely turning away from him or laughing with someone else, he felt a sharp pang of regret that he didn’t know how to fix.

Kirishima’s words lingered too. “You’re scared because you like her so much it freaks you out. But running from it won’t make it go away.” As much as Bakugo wanted to punch him for saying it, he knew it was true. He’d been running from his feelings because they terrified him. You terrified him—not because you were weak, but because of how much power you had over him without even realizing it. And that was what scared him most of all.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. Watching you avoid him, knowing he’d been the one to hurt you—it was eating him alive. If he didn’t do something soon, he was going to explode.

That’s what led him here, standing awkwardly a few feet away from where you sat on the bench outside. You hadn’t noticed him yet, too focused on the notebook in your lap. For a moment, he hesitated, his chest tightening with something unfamiliar. Was this… nerves? He growled under his breath, frustrated with himself. He was Bakugo Katsuki, for crying out loud. He didn’t get nervous.

“Oi.” His voice came out rougher than he intended, and you jumped slightly, startled by his sudden presence.

You looked up, your eyes widening for a split second before your expression hardened. “What do you want?”

Bakugo flinched at the coldness in your tone, though he tried to hide it. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” you asked, already sounding exasperated. “If this is about training or some stupid lecture—”

“It’s not about training,” he cut in, stepping closer. His jaw tightened as he tried to find the right words. He wasn’t good at this, but he had to try. “It’s about what I said to you before.”

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into your expression. “Why are you bringing that up now? You already made your feelings perfectly clear, Bakugo. I don’t need to hear it again.”

He winced at the way you said his name—so formal, so distant. You used to call him Katsuki, back when things were simpler. Back when he hadn’t ruined everything.

“Just shut up and listen for a second, will you?” he snapped, though there was no real heat in his voice. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I… I screwed up, alright? I said some shit I didn’t mean, and I hurt you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Your expression softened slightly, but your arms remained crossed, a barrier he knew he’d have to break through. “Then why did you do it? Why push me away if you didn’t mean it?”

“Because I’m a goddamn idiot,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. His gaze dropped to the ground, his fists clenched at his sides. “I thought… I thought if I let myself like you, I’d lose focus. That you’d get in the way of my goals.”

“And now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Now I know that’s total bullshit,” he said, finally looking up to meet your eyes. “You don’t make me weaker. You make me want to be better. And no matter how much I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re in my head all the damn time, and it’s driving me insane.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, but you still hesitated. “You really hurt me, Katsuki,” you said softly, the pain evident in your voice. “I don’t know if I can just forget that.”

He stepped closer, his gaze intense and unwavering. “I’m not asking you to forget it. I’m asking for a chance to fix it. I was a dumbass, and I don’t deserve it, but… I want to try. With you.”

The vulnerability in his voice was so raw, so uncharacteristic, that it left you speechless. You searched his face for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was regret and determination.

“Katsuki…” you began, your voice trembling slightly.

“Look, I know I’m not good at this,” he interrupted, his hands twitching at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “I’m not some smooth-talking idiot like Kaminari, and I’m probably gonna screw up a hundred more times. But I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’m not gonna hurt you again.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his words sank in. This was Bakugo Katsuki—the same boy who never admitted when he was wrong, who bulldozed his way through life without looking back. And here he was, laying his pride at your feet, just for a chance to make things right.

“You’re really bad at this, you know,” you said finally, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

He huffed, his cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, well, it’s not exactly my strong suit.”

You laughed softly, the sound making his chest tighten in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. For the first time in weeks, you felt the tension between you start to dissolve.

“So, what now?” you asked, taking a tentative step closer.

“Now I do this,” he said, his voice low as he reached out to cup your face in his hands. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he leaned in. His crimson eyes searched yours for a moment, and when you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance and kissed you.

The kiss was tentative at first, almost shy, but it quickly deepened as you responded, your hands reaching up to grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer. He kissed you like he was trying to make up for every moment he’d wasted, pouring all the unspoken feelings he couldn’t put into words into that one act.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads resting together, you were both breathless. He smirked, his usual cocky confidence creeping back in. “Told you I’d make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “You’ve got a long way to go, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed the gruffness of his tone. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and prove it.”

And for the first time in weeks, everything felt right.

Feel free to request <3

#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bnha #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

41 notes · View notes

cherubcameron · 2 days ago

Text

Love Espresso

Chapter 8: Wildflower

MASTERLIST

Synopsis: after her breakup with Rafe and him kicking her out. Her best friend offers her a new job and a place to stay. But when Rafe comes back from Morocco. He realizes he’d made a grave mistake. Will Sofia go back to him? Or will she decide that her new life means more to her than him?

Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Sofia blinked away her surprise; he was right in front of her. She couldn’t help the way her heart swelled at the sight of him. Her Rafe.

He looked just as stunned to see her. His footsteps faltering as he got closer to the front door. In his hands, were his grocery bags.

“S-Sofia?” He repeated, almost as if he’d hope he wasn’t imagining her.

“Rafe.”

Sarah came out the car soon after. Her hand on her belly. Her eyes darting from Sofia, to John B and then to Rafe. The tension in the air is palpable.

“You guys came back early…” John B says, breaking the tension like a knife. Sarah smiles, grabbing a bag from Rafes hands.

“We just needed some milk. But you know how I need my pregnancy snacks.” Sarah says. She made her way towards John B, handing him the bag. He took it from her.

“Uh… we’re going to leave, you two alone to talk.” Sarah says, grabbing John B’s hand. They leave towards a different part of the house. Sofia crosses her arms; unsure on what to do with herself.

She hadn’t realized how awkward this would be. Her momentum completely disappeared. Rafe scratched the back of his head. His other hand still holding the groceries, Sarah hadn’t taken.

Sofia couldn’t help but stare at his arms. Her mind wandering; his cheeks turned pink. She was the only one who ever managed to make him blush. He’d missed the way she would look at him. He’d missed her, so much.

“Sofia.” He said again, this time a little more hoarsely. “Why’re are you here?” It came out harsher than he intended.

Sofia eyes darted to the ground. Her cheeks heating up. “I thought it was time you and I finally talked.”

Sofia’s hand caressed Rafe’s cheek. Her eyes boring into his. Her eyes shone like stars as she stared at him. Rafe felt his own cheeks flush.

“Stop staring at me like that. It’s going to make me kiss you.”

Sofia can’t help but giggle as he says this. Her body moving closer to his so she can steal a kiss. Her hands now on his chest, her body molting against his. His hands move to her waist, holding her close to him.

She slowly pulled away, “Que Lindo tu ves.” Her hand continuing to caress his cheek. He blushes further. His hand reaching up to play with her hair.

“Is that right?” Rafe smiles up at her, his eyes staring into hers. Today it’s decided to lean towards looking more green.

“Oh? You know what that means?” She teased, giggling as he grinned at her.

“Had to learn my girls language.” He pushes a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Though, don’t ask me to speak it yet. I sound terrible.” He laughs. She laughs along with him.

“Hey at least, you’re trying.” She kisses his nose. “Let me hear it.” Rafe crosses his arms and lets out another chuckle.

“You’re going to cringe at how terrible my Spanish sounds.” He says, his eyes roaming her face.

“Practice, makes perfect. No?”

Sofia played with the hem of her skirt; as she sat next to Rafe on his couch. The cup of water he’d gotten her, sat abandoned on the coffee table.

“This doesn’t have to be awkward.” Rafe says. His head ducked low as he doesn’t stare at her. “We’re here to talk.”

Sofia nodded, “Then can you please look at me?” Her voice comes out a bit hoarse. Like she’d hadn’t spoken in ages. But really, her throat was dry. She reaches for the cup of water. But then lets her arm fall.

Rafe slowly looks up; he looks like a little kid almost. Reduced to a vulnerable state. He’d always been like that with her. Always stripped of any facade he tried to create.

“Why did you do it? Was that your scheme all along? Pretending to be in love with me or some shit?” He ripped the bandit right off. He didn’t want to keep tiptoeing around the issue anymore. He didn’t want to lose this opportunity. He finally got her here to talk. And he was just going to get he answer he wanted; straight. The anger he thought he was done with; resurfacing.

She’d appreciated him for it. She knew she would haven’t been able to be so straight forward. She’d been too afraid to be.

Sofia breath in a breath and let it out. “My dad had told me about this deal. Hollis had tried to ask him to involve me in getting you to agree on investing in Goat Island. It sounded scammy to me. And at the time, I couldn’t imagine doing something like that to you. And then when—”

Her eyes finally turned away from him. Remembering that awful day.

“I had went looking for you. To tell you what my dad had said. I found you at the club. I overheard you talking to Ruthie and Topper. She’d said that, since you live with a pogue. You might not be up for whatever it was Topper was planning to do. I’m assuming it’s the rezoning. And then… I heard you.”

Rafe’s eyes widen. His heart sinking. She wasn’t meant to hear that.

“You said that just because we hooked up. Didn’t make me your girlfriend.” Her hands were tightly intertwined together. Her eyes no longer even looking at him. Now it was her turn to duck her head. “How you weren’t living with a Pogue. That you had standards.”

Rafe in took a sharp breath of air. Letting it puff out. “Shit.” He said. He rubs at his head; now staring at her.

Sofia only ducks her head down. Tears began to brim her eyes. It was laid out bare in front of them. The start of the doom of their relationship.

“Sofia, please look at me.” He says hoarsely. “I didn’t mean those things. I promise, I just didn’t like how— you know how Ruthie is like.”

Sofia scoffed, looking away from him. “But you still said those things, Rafe. What was I supposed to do?”

“Talk to me! Not fucking betray me!” He finally snapped. Sofia flinches as he yelled at her. He’d never done that before. Never once raised his voice at her. She wasn’t used to it.

She’d seen him, yell at others. But never her. Being on that side of it. It feels wrong, like as if she woken up at the wrong side of the bed.

He instantly deflates the moment; he notices her flinch. “I’m-I’m not trying to argue with you.”

Rafe remembered, how he felt the moment he found out. He felt his whole body go numb. There was no way. Not Sofia. Anyone but Sofia. She would never do that to him. His angel of a girlfriend. Fiancée. No, no, no.

He loves her, he would never do anything to hurt her. So why did she hurt him? After the phone call, he felt his tears brimming his eyes. He felt his heart feel like it was on fire. He couldn’t believe it. His Sofia had betrayed him.

Rafe wiped away at his eyes. No longer able to contain his tears. His hands shook.

“I love you Sofia. I love you, okay. I didn’t mean to fuck this up. I shouldn’t have said those things. But you could have talked to me. We could have… we wouldn’t be here. And I’m not trying to completely fault you in that.” His voice came out broken. Like he couldn’t speak properly.

He looked at her, his Sofia. Her beautiful eyes brimmed with tears. He wanted to reach over and wipe them away from her eyes. Wanted to fix everything that hurt her.

“I’m sorry, I know it won’t fix anything. But I am truly sorry. I didn’t mean for you to lose—” Her eyes casted down away from him.

The silence engulfed them. Now it felt like it would be like pulling teeth. He didn’t want this to be the end of them. He waited for her to continue with batted breath.

“I didn’t mean for you to lose everything.” She whispered. Rafe felt his heart clenched.

For a long time, he thought he cared about the money. But now… all he cared about was having her back. He remembered the conversations he’d have with Kiara. He never thought he’d ever become close to her. And he still wouldn’t consider her to be. But he’d told her about Sofia.

He realized even when he wasn’t around Sofia. He managed to make room for her in the conversation. He wished he could take back the things he said about her. He didn’t mean them. Now here was the consequence to those words being uttered.

“I love you Rafe. I was upset and I did the first thing I could to hurt you. And I regretted it the moment I did. I regretted the moment I realized you were serious about us. I wish I could have just spoken to you. I tried to make you back out. But it’s been too late. I’m not here to ask you to forgive me. You don’t have to forgive me.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. The distance between them, he couldn’t recall being close to her. He sank onto his knees and practically crawled to her. He gripped her hands in his. He was a starved man. The time away from her was unbearable. Felt like a shot in the heart.

“I remember I told you that I didn’t care what you did. The day I proposed to you. And now… now that you’re here in front of me—”

He placed his head into her hands. His tears slipping down his face. “I don’t want to lose you Sofia.” He sobbed.

Sofia felt her tears fall down her own face. Before she knew it, they were embracing each other. She didn’t know if this meant they’ll be together. But in this moment, they were two souls who had found what they were searching for.

Sofia is listening to:

Rafe is listening to:

#Spotify #rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe x sofia #rafe obx #outer banks rafe #outer banks sofia #sofia obx #sofia outer banks #rofia #rafia #sofia x rafe

37 notes · View notes

manic-sapphic · 2 days ago

Text

crimson waste catra ranting~

it's ironic, cause w the backdrop of a lifeless desert wasteland, every moment of the super pal duo out there gives me so much damn life. hp restored in full every time.

catra and scorpia, desert beauty queens in less than a mf'ing day, just casually ruling the place.

they party for the first time in their lives - catra is actually letting herself laugh about shit and has been all damn day - pretty sure she laughs more that one episode than prob like, the whole series at that point. after the sword 1/2 i feel like it doesn't get heard much.

they kick ass across the desert, and yeah, a grip of catra's laughter was done while leaving a trail of mf'ers in need of medical attention you know they def don't have in the crimson waste ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

aw but poor scorpia :/ (i maintain she and catra both ended up w who they shoulda)

but it's still sad to see her get the closest she's ever gotten to breaking down catra's walls only to have it last 2.5 seconds before they're reinforced to the max. cause scorpia def was down to hang out as a desert duo and yeet any lil moron catra points at so far into the horizon, even if they survived the impact, there's no way they coulda possibly had enough water on em to make the walk back.

--but before any of that, i think it's catra's initial reaction to finding out the crimson waste isn't uninhabited after all -- so much about catra's lil monologue in the desert shanty-tavern kinda floors me.

it seems like catra doesn't care anymore if she lives or dies - part of her speech in the tavern is just a cautionary: "i'm down to go full-tilt savage, claws out, with 0 regard for how it turns out. i'm up for the coin flip so if you're gonna come at me, you better be too"

and her behavior after that point seems to reflect that as well. but what i find to be pretty heartbreaking about it is probably that it takes being at her wit's end, feeling so worthless and existence so pointless- it's not until her life feels irrelevant to her that she can let go and kinda enjoy herself. but ultimately, she'd rather let go for good; catra would rather dissolve into the void than make any attempt to return to her real life.

and in the waste, as she warns everyone in the tavern not to fck w her, there are these brief sentiments she actually allows herself to express aloud - prob cause it's a room full of strangers she never expects to see again - of vulnerability interwoven throughout her threats of hostility (even if they're expressed in an aggressive tone)

she warns everyone against tryna mess w her, yeah. but it still kinda gets to me that, however vaguely, she even tells them why.

cause catra didn't do that. not anymore.

and ps i dunno if it's just me, but i'd imagine after how much time had passed since shadow weaver used catra to escape-

hearing "shadow weaver is in bright moon" probably hit different than if she heard "shadow weaver came to bright moon" or "was in bright moon" ... i'd figure knowing adora was fine with sw sticking around, prisoner or not, might get under catra's skin a lil extra at the time.

#she-ra #spop #catra #scorpia #the crimson waste #adora #catradora #spop analysis #gifs and a rant

33 notes · View notes

just-shairahhh · 24 hours ago

Text

Wings and Venom; Part II

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader.

Part: Two of (Undecided Yet).

A/N: Hi, I'm so excited for this! I really, really hope you guys like it. I did go a little overboard. The word count on it is 7K words. It is however, a slow build romance. So, I hope you read through. And well, Happy Reading!

Part One

The Slytherin common room was quieter than usual, the crackling fire the only sound in the dimly lit space. A few students were scattered around the room; some casually flipping through their reading material, others sloppily scribbling in their parchments, finishing their homework on the last minute. Mattheo Riddle was sprawled on one of the couches in the darker corners, fast asleep, a book over his face; a book he was supposed to read for tomorrow’s Transfiguration test. Theodore Nott sat on the edge of a plush armchair, across the fireplace, his elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped together. His gaze was fixed on the flickering flames, but his mind was far away— the weight of his thoughts already suffocating him. But he could not stop thinking. His father’s letter still sat unopened in his pocket, a decision waiting to be made. But that was not true was it, Theo thought and chuckled humourlessly.

The decision was made long before he was born. There were no decisions to be made, only orders to be followed. Now that he had begun his fourth year, the letters had only increased. Theo knew what was approaching and his body shuddered involuntarily just as the thought crossed his mind. When he finally couldn’t take it anymore, he let his mind drift to Y/n, just like he always did. She had become his quiet refuge when the weight of the world grew too heavy.

But tonight was different.

Tonight, when he closed his eyes, he didn’t find solace in her presence. He didn’t feel the quiet reassurance that usually steadied him. Instead, all he saw was her face—hurt, crushed, slipping away from him. And just like that, the future, the one he had let himself foolishly imagine, felt futile. Theo held his face in his palm and let out a soft groan. He could feel a headache coming on.

A faint creak at the door broke his reverie. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Enzo always entered a room with an effortless confidence, his steps light yet purposeful, a stark contrast to the heavy, purposeful strides of the other Slytherin boys. Enzo had never needed to make an entrance; he was always simply… heard. Theo had always admired that about his best friend—how he could walk into any room and immediately command attention without needing to demand it. Enzo never hesitated, never doubted himself when it came to others, especially relationships. Theo, on the other hand, had built walls around himself—this thick, impenetrable walls that he’d convinced himself kept him safe. But now, those walls felt less like protection and more like a cage.

Enzo stopped when he saw Theo, his eyes narrowing slightly. With a low sigh, he walked towards his best friend and dropped into the chair across from him, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“It was our third year here, at Hogwarts,” Enzo began, lightly. Theo gave him a sharp glance, the "Not now" look flashing in his eyes, but Enzo didn’t flinch. He only kept on smiling, that knowing glint in his eye suggesting he knew something Theo didn’t.

Maybe he did. With Enzo, you never know. While Theo was always the most observant out of all the Slytherin boys, Enzo was always the most perceptive.

"When I first saw Y/n, I thought she was just like every Ravenclaw—a little too wrapped up in her books, a little too perfect, like most of them. But she wasn’t like most other people I’d met, not at all. It didn’t take long to see that she had something… something real about her, even at our age. She’s not just clever or poised. She’s got this way of making people feel like they matter. Even if she doesn’t realize it.”

Theo looked up at him, his brow furrowing slightly, unsure where this conversation was headed.

“There was this one day," Enzo continued, his eyes distant now, as though lost in the memory. "you and I were in the library. We’d been struggling with this Herbology assignment—and no matter how hard we tried, we just couldn’t get it right. And the assignment was due the next morning. We were just about to give up, you remember? And then Y/n... she came over. Just slid her notes in front of you without saying a word.” Enzo paused, a nostalgic smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “She didn’t even ask us if we needed help. She just... knew. And there you were, looking at her like she had brought down the stars and not the notes to ‘The Role of Puffapods in Magical Botany’. She smiled at you, then at me and left just as quick as she’d come. You smiled through that entire week and some more, after that day.”

Theo’s chest tightened, a strange ache building as he listened. He could remember it like it was yesterday—you, effortlessly kind in the way only you knew how.

Enzo shifted slightly, looking knowingly at Theo before continuing again. “You had called her a sweetheart that day, albeit slowly and to me but some people in the library had overheard. The big, grumpy Slytherin calling someone a sweetheart, was so shocking to them, that word started going around and before long, she got nicknamed the ‘Ravenclaw Sweetheart’. I don’t even think she knows, till date, that it was you who had started it” Enzo chuckled softly.

“Remember that time in our second year, when Mr. Grumpy over here would not talk to us for a week and just snap at anybody who would try to talk to him?”

Theo snapped his head to the right to see Mattheo sliding onto the chair next to him. He had woken up from his nap, his book forgotten in a corner.

“Don’t you have a test you didn’t study for?” Theo rolled his eyes at him.

“Don’t you have a girl you didn’t confess to, whom you have liked for a shameful number of years now?” Mattheo counters before going back to whatever he was saying, “Anyway, he comes back one evening, happy and in a good mood, smiling for maybe the first time. He would not tell us what had happened that evening and he still won’t but we saw him stare at Y/n like a lovesick puppy from the next day and we knew it had something to do with her.”

“There was no lovesick look OR a puppy involved.” Theo defended himself rather poorly.

Enzo smiled and leaned forward, his eyes locking with Theo’s. “I’ve seen you, Theo. I’ve seen how you look at her, mate. Maybe it’s time you tell her how you feel?”

Theo swallowed before whispering, his voice barely audible “I messed up this time. I said some things I shouldn’t have. I don’t know how to fix this,”

“I would say to forget this and get some good pu-” Mattheo started before wandering off when Theo glares at him. “I mean, get some good company. But, I don’t think that’s what you want. So, why don’t you get out of here and do the thing that you actually do want?”

Theo’s chest tightened, the internal conflict pressing down on him like a physical weight. He stood up abruptly, his mind a blur of fear and determination. He wasn’t sure how it would turn out, but his friends were right—he had to do something.

Without saying another word, he walked out of the common room, heading straight for the corridor that led to the Ravenclaw Tower. His heart hammered in his chest as he walked through the corridors, every step feeling heavier than the last. But he knew, deep down, that this was the only way forward.

From her spot by the window in the Ravenclaw common room, Elena watched with sharp, curious eyes as Theodore Nott slipped into their common room, the highest tower of the castle, behind a Prefect. Elena frowned, her quill pausing mid-sentence. What was he doing here? Is he actually here to hook up with someone else after what went down with Y/n the other day? Where DO men get such audacity!? Her internal monologue took a pause when she saw him looking around.

Her eyes followed him as he approached the Ravenclaw girl, a fifth-year who was already blushing furiously at the sight of him. Seriously? Apparently, even a senior was not immune to the charms of Theodore Nott. Elena scoffed, internally. She couldn't hear their conversation very clearly, but it was apparent that Nott was in control of it. His tone was low and smooth, his body language calm yet deliberate. The girl giggled, entirely too dazzled to notice when Nott's sharp eyes flicked to the parchment she was holding. A subtle charm later, and he had the room number he wanted, all without ever mentioning who he was asking about.

Elena's lips tightened as she leaned back, watching the Slytherin boy's retreating figure. If he wanted to, he could’ve guessed the answer to the riddle guarding their tower entrance—someone like him could have solved it in minutes, maybe not as quickly as other Ravenclaws but Elena was sure that he could have. But that wasn’t his goal, she observed. He wanted to apologise. And he wanted to do it quickly.

Elena's gaze lingered on him as he looked around, trying to figure out what was probably their dorm number. "What are you up to, Theo Nott?" she murmured to herself, but a faint, knowing smile tugged at her lips this time.

With a smirk, Elena watched as Theo bolted up their flight of stairs, his usually composed demeanour replaced with an almost frantic energy. Her smirk grew wider—what a sight to see the cool, brooding Slytherin look so... out of place.

But then he came back down. Her smirk vanished in an instant, replaced by a furrowed brow. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” she muttered under her breath, glaring at him from her spot.

Just as she cursed his apparent retreat, he darted up the stairs again. Her smile crept back as she leaned forward, intrigued. He was persistent, she’d give him that. With an approving nod, Elena decided she’d seen enough entertainment for the night and turned back to her book.

Until she heard the footsteps again.

Her head snapped up, and there he was—coming back down for a second time. She groaned in exasperation, slamming her book shut and preparing to march up the stairs herself to put an end to this ridiculous display.

But before she could move, he sprinted up again, this time two steps at a time, his determination practically radiating off of him. Elena arched an eyebrow as she heard him knock, finally.

Leaning back into her chair with an amused grin, she muttered to herself, “Well, at least cardio isn’t a problem for him. Good for Y/n.”

You had just set your quill down, your eyes heavy from hours of Transfiguration notes swirling through your mind. Tomorrow’s test loomed over you, but sleep was beckoning. You were ready to call it a night when an unexpected knock shattered the quiet.

You jolted upright, startled. "Elena?" You muttered aloud. It didn’t make sense—Elena had stationed herself in the common room, a rule you'd both established long ago after realizing that your joint study sessions always dissolved into fits of laughter and gossip. But why would Elena be knocking?

Your brow furrowed as you crossed the room and opened the door, only to find... a back? Huh? Albeit a tall, well-built back. And clad in a Slytherin uniform too?

“What…?” you whispered, utterly baffled. Was Elena studying Transfiguration with practicality now, as a living, breathing subject?

You opened your mouth to speak something, anything, but before you could, the figure turned, and you froze. It wasn’t just anyone—it was Theodore Nott. Why would he be here?

Your breath hitched the moment your eyes met his. For a second, the world tilted—just slightly—as if your mind needed time to catch up with what you were seeing. He stood there, ruffled hair falling over his forehead like he’d run his hands through it one too many times. His tie hung loose around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt undone, revealing just enough to make your mouth go dry. His sharp jawline caught the dim light, and you hated the way your gaze lingered, tracing the curve of it down to the way his throat bobbed when he exhaled.

Heat curled low in your stomach, unexpected but not so unwelcome.

But then the shock hit just as hard, slicing through the moment like a blade. Your heart slammed against your ribs, torn between disbelief and something far more dangerous. “Um, Elena?” you managed, voice uneven, barely above a whisper.

Theo turned an even deeper shade of pink than the one he was already sporting. He started pawing at his face, his cheeks flushed, even more nervous now, betrayed by the way he rubbed his jawline proving just out of his element he was. He shifted awkwardly under your gaze.

“I, uh… I don’t think so?” he replied, his voice uncertain, and somehow just as confused as you felt. For a minute, the two of you simply stared at each other. He is here. He is actually here. Your senses completely abandon you as you keep staring at him, not able to say anything.

Theo stood there too, every nerve alight, his usual calm unravelling as he searched for words that didn’t sound hollow. His hands twitched at his sides—he wasn’t used to this, to standing in the doorway of someone who wasn’t supposed to matter this much.

“I…” he started, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, his gaze falling to the floor before daring to meet yours. “I owe you an apology.”

You cross your arms, your stance guarded yet you can feel the vulnerability seeping through. You compose yourself and don't say anything, simply wait. The silence stretched, and he felt it like a rope tightening around his throat.

Theo inhaled sharply, forcing himself to start speaking. “What I said yesterday—it was…” He faltered, clenching his jaw before continuing. “It was disgusting. And it’s not who I am. Not who I want to be. It wasn’t even about you—it was about me. About everything else. And that doesn’t make it better, I know. But I need you to know that I don’t believe in any of that pureblood nonsense.”

His words tumbled out, faster now, like he was afraid they’d stop coming if he paused too long. “I’ve spent my whole life being taught things I don’t believe in, being moulded into someone I don’t want to be. But... you know that already." He states but he sounds unsure. He doubts if you even remember. It happened so long ago. But of course, you remember. But you don't interrupt him. You simply nod, softly. "And yesterday, I was angry, and I let myself become that person—the one I hate the most. I said something cruel because I thought it would hurt less if I pushed you away first.”

He stepped closer, his hands now curled into fists at his sides, desperate to keep himself grounded. “But I was wrong. It didn’t hurt less—it hurt more. Because…” His voice dropped, and for a moment, he looked almost broken. “Because I hurt the one person who doesn’t see me as a name, a title, or a legacy. You don’t look at me with fear, or that hollow, brainwashed respect because I’m the heir to some ancient, power-starved bloodline. You don’t reduce me to a face, a presence, something pretty to look at and nothing more. With you, I feel like I can be something different—someone better. You make me feel like there’s more to me than the weight of my name, like I could be more than what I’ve been taught to be. And I ruined that. I destroyed something... good with one stupid, careless moment.”

His throat tightened, but he forced himself to finish. “I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness, and I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. We’ve never been friends—not really. But just know that I’ve always wanted to be. I just… I always knew you were too good for me. I knew that from the start. But I couldn’t—I wouldn’t—let things end like this. You deserve better than that. You’ve always deserved better."

Theo’s voice grew quieter, softer, like the weight of his own words was crushing him. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For all of it. For the words, for the hurt… for making you think, even for a second, that you’re not extraordinary.”

He finally fell silent, his breathing uneven as he stood there for another second, before he turned to leave again. You simply stood there, frozen, dumbfounded and speechless, the weight of his confession pressing down on you.

This is the first time he'd spoken so much to you. And everything carried so much depth that for a moment, you were blown away by the genuineness of his words and the sincerity of his tone. Warmth seeped into your cheeks and stomach at his words. It’s funny how what you wanted to hear for so long, can leave you frozen when it actually happens. You wanted to scream that you forgive him. But somehow, you just remained rooted to your place. Theo obviously took it as a rejection. Not wanting to bother you anymore, he hastily turned around and starts descending the stairs. Finally, you manage to whisper, almost unsure, “Theodo—”

He stops in his tracks but doesn’t turn around. His voice, low and strained, cuts through the thick silence. “Theo. It’s Theo.”

And then, before you can gather your thoughts or summon a response, he’s gone, leaving you rooted to the spot, the echo of his words and the ache they carried lingering in the room like a ghost.

Elena slipped into the room an hour later, her footsteps soft but purposeful. “Y/n, are you awake?” she whispered into the dimly lit space.

You stayed silent, lying still under the covers. You weren’t in the mood to talk. The weight of the day hung heavy on your chest, and the words Theo had spoken to you played on repeat in your head like a broken record.

"I’ve spent my whole life being taught things I don’t believe in, being moulded into someone I don’t want to be. But you know that already."

And you did. The memory lingered now, vivid and raw, as you lay in bed. Back then, you hadn’t known what to make of him. You’d dismissed it as a moment of weakness from someone who was usually so composed and untouchable. Because he had dismissed it first. But now, with the weight of his confession tonight, it all began to make sense.

Your mind drifted back to your second year, after the chaos with the basilisk and the haunting stillness of your best friend frozen in Madam Pomfrey’s infirmary last week. Everything had felt overwhelming, suffocating, so you’d done the only thing you could think of: you’d escaped to the Astronomy Tower.

You hadn’t expected to find anyone there, but as you stepped into the cold night air, your gaze landed on a boy sitting in the corner, staring down at something in his hand. It took you a moment to realize what it was—a cigarette.

“Seriously?” you had deadpanned, unable to keep the judgment out of your voice. “Is Charms really stressing you out that much that a second-year needs that?”

His head snapped up at your words, and for a brief moment, you thought he might lash out or throw some snarky comment your way. But he didn’t. Instead, he looked at you with an odd vulnerability that caught you off guard.

“It’s not Charms,” he muttered after a long pause. His voice was quiet, barely audible over the wind. “It’s… my charming Father.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You stared at him, unsure of what to say. He looked just as shocked as you felt, like he couldn’t believe he’d just admitted that to you.

“What do you mean?” you asked softly, taking a cautious step closer.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, shaking his head. He tossed the cigarette aside, letting it roll across the floor. “Forget I said anything.”

But you didn’t move. Something about the way he said it—the bitterness, the exhaustion—it pulled at you.

“Theo,” you said gently, sitting down a few feet away from him. He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to tell me, but… I’m here. If you want to.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just stared out at the night sky, his jaw tight. But then, to your surprise, he started to speak.

“Do you know what it’s like,” he began, his voice hollow, “to feel like your whole life has already been decided for you?"

"Um, well. My parents are professors. And while they've been very supportive of the path I've paved for myself, I don't think a witch with a waving wand and a broomstick was top of their "Elder daughter's Career To-do List". Minus the crooked witch hat, obviously." You joke, with a serious tone.

"Obviously" he agrees and there it was. The first genuine smile you'd seen Theo crack in the two years you'd known him.

“My father,” he continued after a while, his tone bitter, “is one of the most powerful men in the wizarding world. Or so he likes to think. He has this… vision of who I’m supposed to be. What I’m supposed to believe. And if I don’t live up to it, if I don’t… fit into the mould he’s made for me…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“What happens if you don’t?” you asked carefully.

He let out a humourless laugh. “Let’s just say disappointment doesn’t sit well with him.”

You didn’t know what to say. The pain in his voice, the weight he was carrying—it was so much heavier than you had expected.

“I don’t want to be like him,” Theo said quietly, but the resignation and hurt was so deep in his voice that you wanted to reach out and give him a hug. But you remained seated and let him continue. “But sometimes… I don’t know if I have a choice.”

“Theo," you murmured, leaning forward just slightly, "your father made his choices. And you get to make yours." "You are not him. You never were. And the fact that you’re even afraid of becoming him? That means you never will." You said with surprising conviction in your voice.

Theo stared at you, his gaze intense, almost like he was trying to see through you. His eyes softened, but there was something else there—a question, a hesitation. Finally, his lips parted, and in a voice much quieter than before, he asked, “How do you know that?”

You met his gaze firmly. “Because I believe it.”

The silence lingered, the weight of his words still hanging in the air. You could feel the tension between you, but you didn’t want to just sit in it. There was more you needed to say, more you needed to get off your chest.

“So,” he began softly, cutting through the silence. “Why are you here? They say only lost souls seek the stars, finding quiet refuge in them. Do you know why?”

You shook your head.

He continued, “Because it’s only the stars that can silently promise you’re not alone. There are so many stars in the universe, all so far apart from each other, never knowing there’s one just like them, drifting through their lives.”

He looked at you sheepishly when he finished, “Too cheesy?” He blushed.

“Just enough.” You promised softly.

Theo looked at you again, brows raised, as if silently saying that you had the floor.

“I’ve been drowning… especially this year,” you exhaled, shaking your head. “Everything just feels so… heavy. I always loved reading and studying. It was my escape, my refuge. But now, it’s like everyone expects so much from me—teachers, friends, people I barely know—and there’s this constant pressure, this anxiety, weighing me down. I am so afraid that studying one day will feel like a chore instead of something I enjoy. And I... I can’t stop my mind from overthinking every little thing, every action, every detail. At the end of the day, I don’t even think anyone others would notice or care to check how I’m doing. And honestly? I don’t even know if I have the energy to care anymore and I don’t want to be that person.”

Theo didn’t interrupt, didn’t say a word. He just watched you, his expression softening with each word you spoke.

“And you know what’s worse?” you continued, voice quieter now. “It’s like I’m constantly pretending. I’m pretending I can keep up, pretending I don’t feel completely out of place sometimes. Pretending I’m okay. And I think that’s what everyone else does too. We all just put on these masks, hoping no one notices that we’re all falling apart inside.”

Theo was silent for a moment, processing your words, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like someone understood, like your frustrations weren’t just falling on deaf ears.

He finally spoke, his voice surprisingly steady. “That’s… a lot to carry.” You simply nod.

"I can’t fix it for you," he said, his tone soft but firm, “but... I’m here. If you need someone to listen. And, maybe... it’s okay to not always have everything figured out. You don’t have to pretend. Sometimes, just taking things one step at a time helps—focus on what you can control, and let the rest fall away. You don’t owe anyone more than that. The only person you owe something to, is yourself and you owe it to yourself to give yourself the space you are out here, creating for others, if not more.”

He hesitated for a moment, like he was gathering his thoughts. “I know it’s hard, but… trying to do it all at once? It’s never going to work. You’re allowed to have limits, to need a break. Don’t be afraid to give yourself one. It’s not weakness. It’s surviving. Sometimes the strongest people are the ones who know when to step back, take a breath, and just... exist for a little while.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt the tension in your chest start to loosen. For a moment, the two of you just sat there in silence, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Neither of you knew what else to say, so you just stayed, offering each other comfort and company instead of empty reassurances.

Eventually, he stood up, brushing off his robes. “Thanks,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes.

You nodded. “You don't need to say that. Sorry you couldn’t use that cigarette.” You smiled.

“It’s fine. I found something better.” He smiled back.

He hesitated—just for a moment—like he wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. And then, without another glance, he turned and walked away, leaving you there with the lingering weight of a conversation that felt far bigger than either of you had realized.

That night, when you returned to your dorm, you found Elena sitting cross-legged on her bed, flipping through a book she clearly wasn’t reading. You barely had time to set your things down and flung yourself down on the bed before the words tumbled out of you.

"I think I met someone today."

Elena looked up, intrigued. “Oh?”

You hesitated, biting the inside of your cheek before sitting down across from her. “Not like that,” you clarified quickly. “I just… I don’t know. He’s different. He’s quiet but not in an empty way—more like there’s too much in his head.

Elena tilted her head, considering. "That’s oddly poetic."

You sighed, letting your head drop onto your pillow. "He listens," you murmured, mostly to yourself. "Like, really listens. And I don’t think a lot of people do that—not the way he does."

Elena smiled warmly. "You sound impressed."

You let out a soft laugh. "Maybe I am," you admitted. "I just feel like—like maybe we could be friends. Maybe we should be."

It had felt like a certainty at the time. A quiet, unshakable belief that somehow, in some way, your lives were meant to overlap.

But looking back now? You almost laughed at how naive you had been.

You never became friends. Not really. Instead, you spent years standing at the edges of each other’s lives, always near enough to feel the pull but never close enough to bridge the gap. Like two stars drifting in the vastness of space—so close, yet so far apart. There were stolen glances, almost-conversations, unspoken words that hung in the air between you like ghosts. And when the distance between you started to stretch wider, when the quiet understanding turned into quiet avoidance, neither of you did anything, simply watched as time faded into nothingness… Just like the stars, shining in the dark, but never reaching each other. And that...

It hurt.

And you never understood why. Or maybe you did. Maybe you had always known.

You snapped back to reality, the remnants of the memory fading as quickly as they had appeared. Theo had been distant again lately, his mind clearly elsewhere, the bags under his eyes heavier. What had his father done this time to hurt him? He’d said something earlier, hadn’t he? Something that had made Theo’s eyes cloud over with that familiar, unreadable expression. But just as you were about to pull at the threads of the conversation today, trying to piece it together, the exhaustion of the day caught up with you. Sleep crept in, stealing your thoughts before you could recall the words that had troubled him so.

Exhausted, you hauled your book bag onto your shoulder, the familiar ache in your muscles reminding you just how long the day had been. The Transfiguration test had gone well—but Merlin, it had been draining. And now, your feet were dragging you to the last class of the day: Binns’ History of Magic. The idea of sitting through one of his monotonous lectures made you want to cry.

Still, as you approached the classroom, the resolve you’d built overnight kicked in. Enough avoiding, enough pretending. It was time to face the snake head-on. No more skirting around Theo Nott.

When you stepped into the room, the usual chatter greeted you. Theo was at his usual spot in the back corner, Mattheo to his left. Blaise and Enzo were sitting behind them, followed by the rest of their Slytherin entourage. Mattheo was laughing at something Blaise had said, and Blaise was already grinning like he’d won some unspoken challenge. Typical. They were like a pack of wolves, basking in their effortless charm and superiority.

Your eyes briefly flickered to Theo. He wasn’t laughing, but his lips curved faintly at the edges, like he was amused by the chaos around him. Looking back on it now, you had hardly ever seen him laughing out loud. Coming to the present, his sharp profile caught the dim lighting of the classroom, and it took your breath away, how effortlessly good he looked, sitting there like he didn’t have a care in the world. But you’d also seen the flicker of exhaustion in his eyes yesterday. He wasn’t as unshaken as he wanted people to think.

Taking a deep breath, you walked straight toward them, your steps confident despite the butterflies dancing in your stomach.

The moment you reached their table, you placed a hand firmly on the desk in front of Mattheo, who was turned on his back, looking behind him, mid-conversation with Blaise. He didn’t notice you at first, too caught up in whatever joke Blaise had cracked. But Blaise’s voice suddenly trailed off when he saw you, his eyes widening slightly before he elbowed Enzo. Enzo was nose deep in a novel and did a literal double take when he saw you. He quickly regained himself and eyed Mattheo to stop. Mattheo however, was too engrossed in the conversation to notice anything around him. Without a warning, Enzo reached forward and hit Mattheo on the head.

“Oi, what the—” Mattheo grumbled, rubbing the back of his head as he turned, only to freeze when he saw you. Then, that flirty grin of his spread across his face like clockwork. “Well, well, if it isn’t the Ravenclaw sweetheart,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair. “Hi, princess.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, but you could already feel the heat crawling up your neck. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Theo go rigid, his gaze narrowing. The room seemed to hush slightly, like everyone was waiting to see what you’d do.

“Don’t call me that,” you said firmly, your voice cutting through the tension. Gods, where did that nickname even come from?

A surprised look crossed Mattheo’s face before his grin widened, clearly enjoying the attention. “Whatever you say, princess. Now, what can I do YOU for... I mean- what can I do for youu-uuuaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh" He was quickly cut off by a rather stone faced Theo who had very subtly stepped on Mattheo's feet.

Quickly composing himself, Mattheo gets back to you. "I truly meant how can I help you? Advice? A good joke? Maybe a—”

“You can’t help me,” you interrupted coolly. “But you can move. Why don’t you go sit with Pansy? She looks a little lonely back there. Go.”

“Blimey, sunshine,” Mattheo groaned dramatically, clutching his chest like you’d physically wounded him. “What did I do to deserve this heat?”

Before you could reply, there was a sudden shove from his right. Mattheo stumbled slightly, as Theo gave him a sharp nudge.

“Get up, Mattheo,” Theo said quietly, his voice calm but firm.

Mattheo raised his hands in surrender, though the teasing smirk never left his face. “Alright, alright, don’t hex me, mate.” With a mock bow in your direction, he stepped aside, limping a little and clutching his right shoulder. But instead of joining Pansy, he shoved Blaise over and squeezed into the two-person desk with him and Enzo. The three of them now stared at you with different expressions. Mattheo had his signature smirk on, Enzo was giving you a knowing smile and Blaise looked serious, as if a little apprehensive of what was going on. But three of them had one common look, an expression that was practically screaming, Oh, this is gonna be interesting.

You ignored them, slipping into the seat beside Theo and dropping your book bag onto the desk. Professor Binns began his lecture in his usual monotone drawl—something about goblin rebellions, though you weren’t really listening.

From further up the room, you caught a flash of movement—Elena. She turned in her seat, just enough to give you a cheeky wink before turning back to her notes. You’d spent a good hour talking with her this morning, hashing out how to handle this; the situation, your emotions. And now, here you were. No more running. No more avoiding.

You sat stiffly at first, hyper-aware of Theo’s presence beside you. From the corner of your eye, you noticed how he kept his gaze fixed forward, but there was a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Then, so subtle you nearly missed it, he shifted ever so slightly—a millimetre closer to you.

The gesture was so small, so unnoticeable to anyone else, but it made your heart flutter and you let yourself relax a little more.

You tried, really tried, to focus on the lesson, but it was impossible. Every so often, your gaze would flicker to him out of the corner of your eye—still, but with an edge to his presence that felt almost magnetic. It was a quiet intensity, a presence that filled the space between you both without a single word spoken.

The air felt heavier, thick with unspoken things, and the all-too-familiar emotions after that night on the Astronomy Tower in second year began to creep back. What if this too remains an unspoken tremor between you two? What if it lingers like a forgotten promise that neither of you dares to claim? It’s not just the pull, the quiet magnetism, but the fear that this—whatever it was—might never come to the surface. That it might always remain a delicate undercurrent, impossible to name or tame, just like it had that night.

And there you were, sitting right next to him, feeling all of it again—the anxiety coming back, the weight, the space, the distance between you that somehow felt both too close and impossibly far.

And then suddenly, in the quiet stillness that seemed to settle over you both, Theo's voice broke through the silence. He leaned just a bit closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. A spark shot through you, and suddenly, your stomach was filled with those damn butterflies. You could feel the warmth of his presence beside you, so close, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

Your body instinctively angled itself towards him, and you couldn’t help but notice how your head nearly brushed against his as he leaned in, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. The warmth of his breath sent a shiver racing down your spine, and your pulse quickened, like it could hear the sudden rush of your heart.

"Do you know," Theo whispered, his voice a low murmur, sending a tingle across your skin, "why Binns can never tell a good joke?"

You looked up at him, your gaze caught somewhere between confusion and something else entirely, trying desperately not to focus on how dangerously close his lips hovered over yours. You could feel the heat of him just inches away, and it was so tempting to close that gap, to lean in just a little—no. You quickly shook the thought off, attempting to focus on the moment. "No, why?"

Theo shot you a sidelong glance, a mischievous glint in his eyes, his lips twitching into that infuriatingly confident smirk you’d come to recognize. “Because he’s dead on delivery.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected humour, surprised by the sheer audacity of his words. For a moment, the tension shifted, and without warning, you snorted. The sound escaped you before you could stop it, and despite the intensity of the atmosphere, you couldn't help it. The way he said it—so nonchalantly—was just absurd enough to break through.

And then, almost without realizing it, you found yourself on the verge of laughing out loud.

It would have been a full-on laugh if not for the fact that Professor Binns was still droning on in his usual monotone, entirely oblivious to the small, chaotic moment unfolding just a few desks away. His lecture about goblin rebellions continued, his ghostly figure as unchanging as always. He might as well have been reading the room with zero interest—completely missing the small flicker of laughter that now danced between you and Theo.

You swallowed your laugh, but the smile lingered, and for a moment, it felt as though the world outside of that classroom had stopped moving. Theo's smirk deepened, his eyes meeting yours, the unspoken connection hanging between you both like an electric charge. You glanced at him again, a soft smile playing on your lips, but this time, you didn’t look away. You didn’t want to.

Theo didn’t make any effort to move, to shift, to break the moment. Neither did you. You both remained there, shoulder to shoulder, and all the remaining tension dissipated from your shoulders as you relaxed against him. The proximity was not familiar but comforting, and for once, you didn’t feel the need to run from it.

The silence stretched on, until suddenly, Mattheo's voice pierced through the calm. “Um, I don’t think I can see the board with these two people in front of me. Maybe they should move apart or something like... Owww—Come on, mate!”

Enzo's slap followed, and the noise was enough to make you glance back at the two of them. Mattheo was rubbing his arm, clearly irritated, while Enzo just shot you a sheepish look. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, a little more hopeful, a little less guarded.

It felt like the whole room was waiting for something to shift, but maybe, just maybe, this time, the shift had already happened.

And you couldn’t help but wonder, as you glanced back at Theo—what even happens when stars collide?

Taglist: @nottinmyheart @whosyourgnomie

Thank you for all the love and support, you guys. I hope you like it <3

26 notes · View notes