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earthtoharlow · 2 days

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Don’t Like The Lights

Sequel to Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights first to understand

Series Masterlist

2. Pulling Me Back

Every time I try to leave something keeps pulling me back, telling me I need you in my life.

Maryse sat in her car parked outside Jack’s house, her fingers nervously tapping against the steering wheel. She glanced up at the front door, her heart pounding. It had been days since they ran into each other at the studio, and now she was finally mustering up the courage to ring the doorbell.

Taking a deep breath, Maryse got out of her car and walked to the front door. She reached out and pressed the button, the sound echoing through the quiet neighborhood. As she waited, her mind raced with thoughts of what awaited her on the other side of the door. Would they be able to pick up where they left off? Or had too much time passed for them to salvage what they once had?

Before she could dwell on it further, the door swung open, and there Jack stood, a mixture of surprise and joy flickering across his face. “Hey,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. “I didn’t expect to see you here so early.”

Maryse smiled nervously as her cheeks warmed. “Hey,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, uh…I couldn’t wait,” she admitted, “I’ve been thinking a lot lately, about us, about everything.”

Jack’s expression softened as he nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Me too.” He admitted, stepping aside to let her in. As she crossed the threshold, he closed the door behind her.

As she followed behind Jack she couldn’t help but look around his new place. She also couldn’t help but notice the minimal decor adorning the walls. It struck her that there were no personal touches, no signs of another person. She wondered if it meant he was still single.

They both sat on the couch, Maryse shifted uncomfortably, stealing glances at Jack, who seemed equally uneasy.

“Look I’m…

“Jack…”

They couldn’t help but both laugh at the silliness of speaking at the same time, the moment breaking the tension that filled the room.

“Sorry, you go first,” Jack said, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“No, you,” Maryse insisted, her eyes searching for a sign of what he was thinking.

Jack takes a deep breath, his eyes locked on Maryse as he begins “I need you to know that I didn’t cheat on you. My ex… she kissed me. I swear, I was pushing her away when you walked in. I know it probably looked bad, but I would never do that to you.” He pauses, his expression pleading for her to believe him.

Maryse listened to Jack ramble about that night. She knew the whole story, Urban had called her the following morning after the night out at the club explaining everything to her. Deep down she knew that Jack would never do that to her and even though she missed him dearly during those lonely nights, she knew that the time apart had been necessary for her growth and self-discovery.

“I’ve been beating myself up over it ever since. I know I should have handled it better, but I froze. I froze because all I could think about was you, and how much I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Maryse reaches out and places a hand on his arm, a gentle gesture to comfort him. “I know, it’s okay. I believe you.” She says softly, her eyes meeting his. “I know you would never intentionally hurt me.”

“A little birdy actually filled me in on what happened months ago,” she begins, her voice steady but filled with vulnerability. “I guess I was just too scared to reach out again because everything seemed so broken, beyond repair.”

“Urban?” Jack asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Maryse nods, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Yeah, Urban,” she confirms, her gaze meeting his. “He told me what happened that night, and I realized that I didn’t even give you a chance to explain yourself…”

She pauses before taking a deep breath, her heart pounding nervously. “Now it’s my turn to apologize,” she says softly, her voice filled with sincerity. “I’m sorry for making it seem like I didn’t see a future with you, because the truth is, I do. I think I always did. And I’m sorry it took me so long to reach out. I needed time to process everything and figure out what I really wanted.” Maryse watched as Jack’s eyes softened, a flicker of emotion passing across his face.

“I know I messed up.” continues, her voice trembling slightly. “But I love you and I know, for the rest of my life, I won’t stop loving you, ever, because you were meant to be with me. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

A wide grin spreads across Jack’s face when he heard Maryse say she loved him, his eyes shining with joy and excitement. Without hesitation, he pulls her into him, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. With a gentle yet urgent tone, he whispers, “What did you just say?”

“Huh?”

“Tell me you love me.”

Maryse’s heart swells with love as she looks into his eyes, seeing the depth of emotion reflected back at her. “I love you,” she says softly, her voice filled with tenderness.

Jack smile widens at her words, and he leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from hers. “Say it again,” he murmurs, his breath warm against her skin.

“I love you,” Maryse tells him with even more conviction than before.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Jack closes the distance between them, capturing her lips in a kiss. They poured all of their love and affection into the embrace.

As they finally pulled away, he looked into her eyes with an expression of pure adoration. “I love you more.” he whispers, his voice husky with emotion.

Tears of happiness prick at her eyes as she gazes back at him, overwhelmed by the depth of their connection. “Not possible.” Maryse replies, her voice trembling with emotion.

They sat in silence tangled in each other's arms and for the first time in months, they felt relaxed and happy. Maryse felt a sense of gratitude for the journey that had brought her to this moment. She was ready to embrace the future and spend the rest of her life with Jack.

“I have something else to tell you,” Maryse begins, her voice filled with nervousness.

Jack looks at her, curiosity evident in his eyes. “What is it?” he asks, leaning in closer to her.

“I broke my lease,” she confesses, her words hanging in the air between them.

Jack’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he leans back slightly, processing her revelation. “You broke your lease?” he repeats, in disbelief.

Maryse takes a deep breath, gathering her courage as she continues. “I was wondering… if the offer to move in with you is still available?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, there’s silence between them as they both process her question. Then, Jack's face breaks into a wide grin, his eyes shining with joy.

“Of course it’s still available,” he says, his voice filled with excitement.

With a mischievous grin, Jack scoops Maryse up effortlessly, lifting her over his shoulder as she squeals with laughter. “Hey, what are you doing?” she protests playfully, her laughter bubbling over.

“We have a lot of making up to do, and we need to celebrate!” he replies with a wink, his tone playful.

Maryse giggles, feeling a rush of excitement coursing through her veins. “And where exactly are you taking me?” she teases, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“To our soon-to-be shared bedroom,” he declares with a grin, his steps purposeful as he carries her through the house

She laughs, the sound echoing through the air as they make their way down the hallway.

***

AN: PARADE INSIDE MY CITY YEAAAAH shorter chapter but our bbs are happy and back together 🙂‍↕️ thank you for all the love on the last chapter and this series as a whole I appreciate it so much 🫶

Tag List:

(message me if you'd like to be added or removed)

@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @babiefries @jackmans-poison @dstark-0706 @harlowsbby @itsyagirljaz @leftapricotprofessorlover @toocriticalharlow @minkookie95 @harlowcomehome @jackharloww @jaydaaasworld @kkrenae @hufflewhore128 @w1ldthoughts @jackiehollanderr @katiaw2 @halfmoondaze @babybardi2 @daphnescorner @angelluv444

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow reader #jack harlow x oc #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow blurb #flashing lights

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 3 days

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How Umemiya Hajime Loves | As Told By Tarot

cw. gn!reader, tarot, headcanons pairing. umemiya x reader notes. normally, i stop at 4 cards per character but i've been thinking about doing more lengthy, in-depth readings with multiple stacks lately. so i figured, why not give this a shot with my newest obsession? if you have any characters you want me to cover, let a girl know deck. prisma visions tarot & true black tarot

three of wands, the hanged man, two of wands, two of chalices

When Umemiya Hajime falls, he falls. There's no resisting the waves as it envelops his person; instead he allows himself to be full submerged. He allows you to see him for who he is, all that he has been and all he will be and you allow him to do the same. You're his person. Hajime loves everyone he calls family and treats them all kindly but even among them you are special. The moment you are someone he sees he has a future with, he works towards that future little by little through connecting with you and cultivating a love that will last indefinitely. He isn't the type to seek short-term relationships, Umemiya Hajime wants forever.

ten of pentacles, nine of chalices, the high priestess, seven of wands

It should also be no surprise that he wants a large family. How this family is ultimately is obtained is of little importance to him but he wants a family. Kid running through the house to wake you both up to watch whatever their favorite morning cartoon is, little fingers covered in pancake batter as his little helper valiantly helps him make breakfast, the whole nine yards. That future is a dream come true for him who has always wanted a family of his own. Of course he is aware it takes hard work to get to that future let alone maintain it, but he is prepared for that challenge. Hajime is someone who thrives in large groups but for him to really be happy, you have to be happy as well. He's great at reading you and piecing together what you want but he isn't a mind reader, tell him what you want and need and he'll always be happy to reach a compromise where you are both satisfied.

the emperor, three of pentacles, the lovers, two of pentacles

Rather than constantly go back and forth fixing a leak to push his town in the right direction, Hajime decided to rebuild the entire house and relay the foundation brick by brick. He approaches self-improvement and relationships in the same manner. Words aren't enough, you need action to back them up. His actions more than speak for themself. You know he loves you in the things he does grand and small. He goes above and beyond to make sure you never have to question how he feels. Hajime fights that much harder when something he loves is on the line. Love is the very source of his strength. A joyous feeling that cloaks the two of you in a freeing dance of self-expression and intimacy reserved solely for the two of you. Together the food tastes that much better, the drinks that much flavorful and the hues of the world that much more vibrant. He wants you to feel the same way when you're with him.

nine of cups, the hermit, ace of cups, two of cups

For Hajime, this love feels like a luxury. Both of your glasses will always be full, overflowing with wine that he has grown with grapes from his very own garden. His pockets may not be overflowing in gold but if one could be paid in emotional wealth, Hajime is richer than the greatest king. It has taken much introspection to become the man he become today. A lot of pain he has had to overcome. Yet despite that pain, like how the scarred dove continues to fly so does Umemiya Hajime. His love continues to flow and pour onto the garden that is his relationship with you, carefully cultivating a living mosaic that encompasses your relationship. War and disruption does not exist in this man, thus it does not exist in your relationship. There is only peace and harmony bathed in a soft glow. Yours is a relationship that continues this soft dance for as long as time allows.

#look she's writing #headcanons #tarot #windbreaker #wind breaker #hajime umemiya #umemiya hajime #umemiya x reader #umemiya hajime x reader

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aparticularbandit · 29 days

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One of Mikan's character notes is that she hates clothes that are too big and thus consistently buys things that are actually too small so that she doesn't have to deal with them being potentially too big.

But Mikan. Bestie.

Your beloved is the Ultimate Fashionista.

Junko's just over here making Mikan clothes that fit because Mikan has probably never had anything that fit right once in her entire life. Mikan, this is what clothes that fit feel like. Isn't that nice. Don't you want more of those.

Followed immediately by Mikan bought her own Ultimate Despair nurse's outfit that is absolutely too small.

#musings #junkan #danganronpa #dr2 #mikan tsumiki #junko enoshima #'wait wouldn't it be more despair-inducing for mikan to know junko could tailor her clothes and just didn't'#no because mikan will wear what junko likes because junko likes it #'wait wouldn't it be more despair-inducing for junko to constantly make mikan's clothes too big'#by nature of tailoring you actually want to buy clothes that fit your biggest spot and then tailor the too big spots down #mikan's clothes would have already needed to be too big #what junko is doing by tailoring mikan's clothes is two-fold #it causes despair in a mikan who'd gotten used to her clothes problems because it could have been fixed ages ago #if someone just sat her down and talked it through with her #it's another layer of despair over her situation #BUT ALSO #it increases mikan's attachment to and love of junko for doing the thing no one else would #and not only doing that but going above and beyond by actually tailoring mikan's clothes for her #ryoko wants to give her gf clothes that fit; junko wants to point out how horrible the world is for not helping mikan earlier

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darudedogestorm · 1 year

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brand new warrior cats headcanon time. if dead cats fade when the living forget them i think it would be cool if they changed appearances based on the clans' general cognition of them. like for example thunderstar. thunderstar during life is still a pretty huge cat but then he dies and slowly he appears larger, maybe more intimidating or more noble - depending on who's looking at him of course - until at some point it seems to the living he's the most impossibly giant cat to have ever lived (until they meet the sisters but that's a different story).

you could do this with dark forest cats also. tigerstar dies and sure there are still cats who knew him while he was living, but he starts to attain nursery-myth legend and his ghost begins to distort. his stripes are that much more distinct, his teeth and claws seem to get bigger and sharper, the wound on his stomach opens up wider and wider, etc etc. the potential for character design is huge.

#partially inspired by the retelling myths in The Road to Immortality (one of if not The best wc fangame of all time btw. required reading.)#where the story of the original series up to arc 4 has just warped so much it's basically a different story #if you wanted to go above and beyond you could also have it be that the precise details vary depending on who is observing the spirit #i have the image in my mind of firepaw somehow seeing thunderstar (dream sequence? moonstone?) and thunder is like towering over him #kinda intimidatingly. not outwardly mean but firepaw is like Dude you're nice but you're kinda freaking me out #but then later on as fireheart/star comes to feel more Part of thunderclan and idk learns more about thunder himself thunderstar reappears #and he's firestar sized although maybe not firestar shaped. this sounded and looked a lot better in my head oh well #warrior cats #low pitched finite woofing

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lord-squiggletits · 1 year

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Also idk if I can elaborate on this in beautiful enough detail, but I think that the Autobots going through unreasonable amounts of effort to save other people even at great personal cost to themselves is literally something good about them, and if you try to criticize that as a way the Autobots are “bad” then I really don’t get you.

#squiggposting #how do i say this without overstepping on experiences i don't have #in the real world when people do things like emergency services or whatever... the foundation of that type of work #is to do something objectively dangerous and risky to yourself on just the bare chance of saving others #there are a lot of safety regulations-- everything from just day to day use of equipment #to entire protocols that emergency services and other people use #whose entire purpose is 'we need to go above and beyond'#'so that we know beyond a shadow of a doubt we have done everything we can do to protect others'#and like that's the principle that the autobots embody. and it's not just a story thing #that's something that happens in real life too. in real life we valorize people who didn't have to do everything they could to save other pe #people but did it anyways. you know???#like the point isn't to say 'if you don't kill yourself to save others then you're a bad person'#the point is to say that we valorize people who DO go above and beyond because they embody the greatest standards of care and selfishness #so like for example yeah the autobots often protect organic species at great tactical loss and personal danger to themselves #but it's because the principle of equality and protection guides them such that they believe this is a noble pursuit #because it is. it is noble to do what's difficult and inconvenient to save other people without expecting recognition #and also in a way it's just the morally and philosophically correct thing to do? like if your choice could possibly do harm to someone #the moral response is to go 'maybe i shouldn't do that because i don't want to hurt people for my own ends'#not for you to go 'well i might NOT hurt them by accident there's only a chance of it so i'll just keep doing my thing'#people who disregard others because 'it's probably not going to hurt them' or 'it's not my problem if they get hurt'#are not people that we would generally call admirable or morally correct #and i think the existence of so many safety and ethical standards IRL proves this #because people/society as a whole know that we have a duty to be SURE that we don't hurt others even by accident #and we have a duty to check whether people might get hurt by accident even if we're 100% sure that no one will get hurt.#it's like fucking checking your windows before you reverse your car. yes you already looked once so there's probably no one behind your car #but it's the responsible and moral thing for you to keep checking your mirrors for the 1% chance that there IS someone #sorry for ranting

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sincerelybubbles · 10 months

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"oh i could never date bakugo because he's too mean"

to you? mean? oh, darling, no.

the second bakugo confirms that you're his and his only, it's a one way ticket to being spoiled beyond anything you could imagine. his fight to be the best hero translates line for line into your relationship.

it's "whatever you want" mumbled after every question, it's "the fuck you think you're doing?" when you try to lift a finger toward your wallet, and it's "you drive me insane" with a scowl and smiling eyes, tugging you closer by the hip to soften his words.

trust me, you can't even go a day without him showing up in your relationship in some way. he's working late at his agency, swamped with paperwork? you're greeted in the morning with what seems to be the entire stock of the local flower shop down the street. he's sent away for a week on a mission? when your phone isn't buzzing with texts updating you (nothing too flowery, but it's enough to remind you he's thinking of you), you're eating food he's meal prepped for you or had delivered to your door. it's sunday? he's shoving your drink of choice under your nose and insisting that you spend at least an hour longer in bed.

if you're also a hero, on the streets fighting alongside him, he respects you above any other hero. if you're at home, in college or working in some other career, he's bragging to his sidekicks about how "fucking cool" whatever you're working on currently is.

and then there's the way he would never leave you with any doubts. does he suck at communicating his feelings directly? yes. without hesitation, yes. but he's there and he's blushing and spitting out assurances of his care for you until you're able to soften his jaw with time, he's never shying away from touching you to make up for where his words lack, he's playing your favorite songs in the car without having to be asked and he's always jumping at any opportunity to make your life easier.

(it helps, of course, that you spoil him tenfold by being there for him, holding his hand when nightmares prevent any further touches in the middle of the night and smiling so sweetly at him when he walks through the door to see you. i mean, how could he not adore the only person who sticks around and peeks past the vulgarity of who he is to see the good he fights so hard to maintain? something about you makes him feel human, worth emotion, worth love. he's willing to do whatever it takes to be "the fucking best at this boyfriend shit")

#bubbs.writes #Katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #fluff #x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #pro hero dynamight x reader

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theworldgate · 1 year

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I have to explain what is going on in the UK, because it is absurd.

So, this is Gary Lineker:

He's known for a fair few things over here. He was a very good (association) footballer, playing for England in the 1986 and 1990 World Cups, winning the Golden Boot in 1986, and managing to never get a single yellow card in his playing career. He played for Leicester City, Everton, Barcelona, and Tottenham, before finishing his career in Japan. But if you aren't in your mid 30s, you probably know actually know him him for a couple of other things. The first is the role of spokesman for another Leicester icon, Walkers Crisps (which are sort of equivalent to Lays, but hit different), as pictured above. Despite being a notably clean player, he used to play a cheeky serial crisp thief. I don't think he's done that for well over a decade, but his ads were on the telly a lot when I was a kid and it's a bit like learning that the hamburglar was an incredibly clean (American) football player or something.

The second thing Gary is widely known for is having presented Match of the Day, the big football program on the BBC, the sort-of state broadcaster, since 1999. He is, incidentally, very well paid for this (though with a consensus that he could get even more if he went to one of the non-free-to-view broadcasters because he is very good at the job). He also has a twitter account. And political opinions. So, the UK government has got itself dead set upon doing heinous stuff that will totally somehow work to prevent people who want to come to the UK making the perilous crossing of the Channel (between England and France). By heinous, I mean "openly advertise that they won't attempt to protect victims of modern slavery" stuff. It's very obviously using a legal hammer to victimise a marginalised group of people in order to win votes. And, uh, I should clarify that by "legal" I mean "using the passage of laws" - the policy is, in addition to all the other ways it's awful, probably incompatible with the Human Rights Act and the UK's international law obligations. Gary, top lad that he is, objected to this. On Tuesday 7th March, he made a quote Tweet of a video of the Home Secretary, Suella Braverman, bigging up the policy, he wrote "Good heavens, this is beyond awful.". This got a bunch of backlash from extremely right-wingers, and then he made the tweet that really got him in trouble (with right-wingers): "There is no huge influx. We take far fewer refugees than other major European countries. This is just an immeasurably cruel policy directed at the most vulnerable people in language that is not dissimilar to that used by Germany in the 30s, and I’m out of order?".

Now, I am not actually subjecting myself to watching a video of Suella Braverman bigging up a cruel policy to say whether the specific comparison of the language to 1930s Germany is accurate. But needless to say, Ms Braverman was amongst the many figures on the right of UK politics objecting to Gary's rhetoric. And here's the part where a fact about the BBC comes in: it is nominally neutral and impartial (and so, of course, is routinely accused of bias from all sides but particularly the right-wing), and has something of a code for its contributors to this effect. Now, that code has previously been applied to Gary Lineker, over a comment about whether governing Conservative Party would hand back donations from figures linked to the Russian regime. But it generally hasn't been applied too strongly to people like Gary, whose roles have nothing to do with politics (such as presenting a "here's what happened on the footie today" show), on the basis that, well, their roles have nothing to do with politics. However, when directly asked about whether the BBC should punish Gary Lineker for his tweets, government figures basically went "well, that's a them problem". But a couple of days passed, and it seemed like Gary's approach of "standing his ground because he did nothing wrong" was working and everything would die down. He was set to get 'a talking to' but not much more than that. The Conservative right, after all their fire and fury earlier, had gotten bored and moved onto something else. And then, on Friday 10th March, the BBC announced that he would be suspended from hosting Match of the Day this weekend. But it could still go ahead, because there are, like, other hosts! Except, well, funnily enough, when you take a beloved figure off air, for making a fairly anodyne tweet, no one wants to be the scab who actually takes up the role of replacing him. Gary's two co-hosts, Alan Shearer and Ian Wright, said that they would not appear without him. People who (co-)host Match of the Day on other days followed suit. The net result is that Match of the Day is currently set to air without hosts, BBC commentary, or global feed commentary. And the solidarity shown to Gary Lineker, over what is very flagrantly actual cancel culture and an attack on freedom of speech (the logic implied is that institutional impartiality requires that no one say anything too critical of the government ever), has continued to grow. The BBC has pretty much been unable to run pretty much any live sports content today, and has resorted to raiding the BBC Sounds archive to fill the sports radio channel. And, as of 17:30 on Saturday 11th March, the situation shows no signs of improvement, though some are calling for the Chairman Richard Sharp, who is separately facing corruption allegations, to resign (yes I linked to the BBC itself there, there is nothing, nothing, the BBC loves more than going into great detail about how much the BBC sucks).

#bbc #gary lineker #football #politics #uk politics #long post is long #text #motd #match of the day

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appocalipse · 3 months

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MAKE IT EASY : ̗̀➛ STEVE HARRINGTON

・❥・part 1・part 2 ❥・3.8k words

Summary: steve asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a family dinner. the problem is: after all is said and done, he gives you the cold shoulder. have you done something wrong?

requested by my beloved @stevebabey 🥺

a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble, and now, oh well...I had to split it into two parts. here we go.

・❥・

It was the epitome of a terrible idea.

And it had started that day.

The very moment Steve walked into the diner your family owned, you knew something was wrong. Not that it was uncommon for Steve to visit you at work — not at all. In fact, it was almost a weekly occurrence, the highlight of it, in fact, for you; the odd part was that Steve never showed up alone, without at least a few of the kids. On that Wednesday night, he was not only alone but also strangely nervous.

You rarely saw Steve get nervous. His confidence was as much a part of him as his signature perfect hair. But tonight, his hands fidgeted with the edge of his jacket, eyes darting around the diner as if searching for an escape route. He looked like he was trying to convince himself to leave.

Weird.

"Steve," you greeted him with a warm smile, hoping to ease his obvious tension a little bit as he approached the counter. "You look like you've seen a Demogorgon."

It was supposed to be a joke. You only felt comfortable saying that now because — luckily — things had been quiet at Hawkins. It had been a long time since you and your friends had to deal with one. But something about Steve's demeanor really made you wonder if there was more to this visit than just a friendly catch-up.

He tried for a convincing chuckle, but it came out tinged with a hint of sadness instead. "I wish," he said, and then quickly shook his head, "Actually no, of course not. I kinda…There's something I wanted to-"

You furrowed your brows, concern knitting your features together. At this point, Steve's tension seemed to be rubbing off on you.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine, just…can we talk?"

"Of course."

He glanced around the diner, gaze briefly flitting over the empty tables and the neon glow of the jukebox. "Not here," he murmured, voice barely audible above the din of conversation and clinking dishes. It was a busy night, despite being Wednesday. "Can you, like, take a break?"

For Steve, of course you could.

Curiosity mingled with concern, and you followed his lead, stepping out into the cool night air. The streets were bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, casting elongated shadows that danced upon the pavement. You leaned against the side of the building, your eyes fixed on Steve, awaiting an explanation for his beyond unusual behavior.

He raked his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit that seemed magnified in this moment. "Look," he began, his voice tinged with a vulnerability you hadn't heard before, "I need a favor- a big one."

Oh, Jesus. "Steve," you placed a hand over your chest, breathing a sigh of relief. "For a moment there I thought you were going to say something terrible. A favor? C'mon, sure. What do you want me to do?"

Steve's eyes met yours, his gaze earnest and…vulnerable?

"I... I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend... Just for one night!" he quickly added, like he was afraid you might misinterpret his request, say no even before he could finish… but no, of course you wouldn't. Far from it.

Who wouldn't want to date Steve Harrington?

"But why would you-"

"My parents," Steve interjected, tone deeply tinged with unease, "they're in town."

"Oh." Steve rarely ever spoke about his parents, and their mere presence seemed to have stirred a sense of apprehension within him. "Are they still... difficult?"

You knew you were touching scars, deep scars. You made sure to be gentle.

Steve sighed, gaze fixed on the ground.

"Yeah, you could say that," a hint of frustration colored his voice, as if he were carrying on his shoulders the weight of every little judgemental glare they had ever sent his way. "Nothing I do is ever enough for them. They've always been focused on money and success. To them, that's the measure of worth. And because I don't fit their mold of the perfect, ambitious son, they treat me like…well, you know how they treat me."

Indeed, you knew.

Steve looked like he didn't know you were unable to say no to him.

And that's how you put yourself into one hell of a mess.

It's Saturday night and you're standing in front of the mirror, desperately trying to zip up your stupid dress. Why anyone would put a zipper in the back of a dress, in the most difficult possible place for a person to reach on their own, is something you are unable to fathom.

But then again, maybe you're the stupid one in this story, you think bitterly, since it was you who chose the dress with the zipper in the back in the first place.

Why are you trying so hard, though?

"I'm not," you tell yourself out loud, stubbornly.

There is a big pile of discarded clothes on your bed that says otherwise.

With a feeling akin to fear bubbling in your stomach, you glance at the clock. It's almost seven. For fuck's sake.

You're late.

Steve will arrive soon, and you are apparently unable to close the damn zipper of your own dress, no matter in which awkward positions you try twisting yourself into…you just can't reach it.

The doorbell rings.

The world is truly a dark place, isn't it?

You freeze. It can only be Steve. Shit, shit, shit! For a moment, you consider the idea of simply not opening the door, turning off the lights and pretending you never agreed to take part in this madness that is dining with the Harringtons.

HA! As if you'd really be able to turn your back on Steve.

You take a deep breath, accepting the battle you just lost, and decide that your only and best option is to simply open the door and ask Steve for help — mortified or not. With no choice but to leave the dress with the zipper still open and your back somewhat exposed, you quickly walk to the door to open it.

"Sorry, I'm late," you say, a little out of breath. "I had a little problem with the dress and I... flowers?"

Flowers, for sure. Steve holds a beautiful bouquet of red roses. He looks at you for a moment, then his eyes run over the partly open dress and your exposed skin for a couple of seconds too long to be accidental. You swallow thickly.

"Yeah I..." he shakes his head, a little uncomfortable standing there, and then his eyes meet yours. "The flowers are for you. Do you want me to...?" he mimics the motion of closing a zipper.

You feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there is no choice but to accept. You look at him, a mix of gratitude and nervousness in your eyes.

"Yeah, that would be great," you reply, stumbling over the words.

If he notices, he doesn't say anything.

Steve comes closer and hands you the bouquet, your fingers briefly touching his. You catch a whiff of his cologne — citrusy fruit and wood notes — as you turn around, brushing your hair away from your neck.

For a moment, Steve does nothing, and you wonder if he is just figuring out the best way to close the zipper…or something else entirely.

His touch ghosts down your bare back before his hand finally, finally finds the zipper. Slowly, he pulls it up, inch by inch, and you hold your breath for a moment, lost in a feeling your best friend is definitely not supposed to evoke in you. You feel the dress tighten, fabric adjusting to your body, his fingers inevitably brushing your skin and sending unexpected tingles up your spine. You try to ignore the trail of electricity left by the tip of his fingers as you turn to face him, eyes finding his.

"There you go", he murmurs, taking his hands off you and taking a small step back. "You look very... girlfriend."

You laugh.

"Thank you", you say softly, your heart beating faster. "You also look very boyfriend."

A small smile plays on Steve's lips, a flush creeping up his cheeks. Or maybe it's just the cold night breeze coming through the open door...

Steve's gaze drifts to your lips and lingers there for way too long to be accidental. He is so close that he starts crushing the bouquet between the two of you…

Something clicks inside of you. Common sense, perhaps.

"Thank you... for the flowers."

The spell breaks; he moves away so fast that you almost drop the flowers on the floor.

"Yeah, uh, no problem," he says quickly, regaining his composure. "Ready to go?"

Disappointment stabs at you, but you try to hide it. Maybe you imagined too much, read signs where there were none.

"Sure. I'll just put the flowers in a vase."

It's an excuse to catch your breath. You walk to the kitchen, put water in the first clean container you find and put the flowers in it. Deep breaths, deep breaths.

Your heart is racing and yet nothing has happened. It's just dinner, you tell yourself, I've had dinner with Steve and the others before. It's just dinner.

So why did you try so hard to look beautiful? insists the other voice in your mind. You decide it's best not to answer.

"You okay?"

Steve is at the kitchen door, all concern and soft brown eyes. You must have taken too long.

"Yes, I'm fine," you reply, forcing a smile to calm your own anxiety. "I was just taking care of the flowers. Ready to go?"

Steve nods. A gentleman, he opens the car door for you to get in. It's a short drive to the Harrington house, and you take the opportunity to try to calm your nerves. Looking out the window, you watch the city lights blinking as you approach your destination.

You look at him. You have the impression that Steve is driving slightly slower than necessary.

"Can I ask you something?" you say, unsure.

Steve briefly glances at you before returning his attention to the road, looking so stiff you're under the impression he might break his back at any moment.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Why did you ask me to pretend to be your girlfriend? I mean, I understand the part about your parents…but why didn't you bring someone you're actually dating or something?"

There's a brief moment of silence before Steve responds, his voice a bit softer.

"Actually, I'm not really dating anyone at the moment," he admits. "And when my parents mentioned the dinner, I kind of panicked. I didn't want to show up alone and face more questions about my life, you know?"

"I know," you respond, understandingly. "And why did you choose me specifically?"

He looks away for a moment before answering.

"Because you're perfect," he says, finally looking back at you. Then quickly, as if he only just realized the words slipped out on their own, he adds, nervously staring back at the road, "I mean, my parents, they... you're perfect for them. They're going to love you."

You feel a mix of surprise, satisfaction, and confusion with Steve's response. You try not to read any deeper meaning behind the words, telling yourself not to notice how he quickly tries to disguise them.

"I see," you reply, although you don't really understand anything. Steve seems to say one thing when he means another. "Well, I hope I can do well. I mean, I'm not very convincing when I lie."

Steve smiles briefly and nods.

"I'm sure you'll be great. Just... be yourself."

You appreciate Steve's vote of confidence and focus on staying calm as the car approaches the Harringtons' house. Although there's still a lingering questioning in your mind about Steve's earlier response, you decide to set it aside for now and focus on the immediate task.

Steve parks the car, and you both step out together. Nervousness returns as you approach the front door. You exchange a quick glance with Steve, seeking mutual encouragement.

As you walk toward the house's entrance, Steve's hand finds yours. He gently squeezes it, and you're not sure if he's trying to convey or seek comfort himself. You don't mind anyway.

The door opens, revealing Steve's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. As you prepare to enter their house, they cast evaluative glances your way, as you had expected. Mrs. Harrington's smile seems a bit forced, while Mr. Harrington maintains a serious expression you can't even begin to try to read.

It's not like you expected anything different.

"Mom," says Steve in lieu of a greeting. "Dad."

"Steve, you finally made it," says Mrs. Harrington, her tone somehow a mix of relief and disapproval. "And this must be your... girlfriend."

Steve maintains his composure as he introduces you, although you can sense a slight tension in his shoulders. It's only when he says your last name that Steve's parents' gazes turn into something completely different, almost a scientific interest.

Hawkins is a small place. Your parents' business is respected enough in town.

All eyes turn to you, and you try not to show the insecurity you feel inside. Mr. Harrington studies you for a moment, his penetrating gaze seeming to assess your suitability for his son.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Mr. Harrington," he finally says, extending an unusually large hand for a formal greeting.

You shake his hand firmly, trying to convey a confidence you're not quite sure you feel. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Harrington. Thank you for the invitation."

Mrs. Harrington still seems a bit unsettled but composes herself as she invites you inside. You're making your way toward the dining room when you feel Steve's hand intertwine with yours again, and when your gaze meets his, he's smiling.

Thank you, he mouths.

You smile back.

During dinner, you make an effort to be as pleasant and interesting as you can possibly be in the eyes of Steve's parents, responding politely and trying to find points of common interest. In turn, Steve makes an effort to showcase his worth, defending his accomplishments, however small and sharing his plans for the future, painting an image of maturity that, you can tell by the look in his parents' eyes, they were not expecting.

Throughout the evening, you realize that although Steve's parents are demanding and neglectful in many aspects, they also seem to have their own insecurities and concerns. They want the best for Steve, even if their way of expressing it is at least…unusual.

As the night progresses, you find yourself navigating this strange family dynamic better and better, to the point where Steve's parents' attention is fully on you, and it doesn't even feel that uncomfortable anymore. You even laugh at one point.

By the end of the dinner, as you two prepare to leave, you notice a very similar expression of relief on the faces of Steve's parents. They seem to have found some kind of approval in the way you both behaved together during the evening.

As you say goodbye, Mr. Harrington extends his hand again, but this time, his handshake is warmer, less formal, and Mrs. Harrington's smile almost seems genuine. Almost.

"It was a pleasure having you here," she says. "You should bring her more often, Steve."

You and Steve exchange a look of surprise. Had you somehow managed to create a connection with his parents?

As you walk away from the Harringtons' house, Steve's hand finds yours for the third time that night, and an optimistic part of you registers the fact that there's no one else here to see. He gently squeezes it, his brown eyes filled with gratitude when they meet yours.

"You were amazing," he says, genuinely smiling.

In the car, during the ride back, you both talk animatedly about the night and his parents' reactions. The tension from dinner seems to have diminished, leaving you both more relaxed and confident.

When you arrive in front of your house, Steve turns off the car and gets out to accompany you to the front door, even after you— out of politeness, mind you — said it's really not necessary.

"You know, I didn't expect everything to go so well tonight," says Steve, with a playful smile. "I can't believe I'm saying this about a dinner with my parents, but thanks to you, it was even fun."

You laugh. "I kinda had fun too. I think we did better than we thought possible."

"You're amazing," he says again, and this time his voice carries a softer, more intimate tone. His eyes meet yours, shining, and you see admiration there…maybe, you dare to think, something even deeper.

The silence grows tense. Your heart races. There's something special happening between you, you know there is; this goes beyond mere friendship or pretending to be a couple for one night…doesn't it?

Are you imagining this?

"Steve..."

You can't finish before he's leaning in slowly, and you're almost certain his eyes are fixed on your lips. For a feverish moment, you think Steve is going to kiss you.

He tilts his head last second. You feel the softness of his lips brushing against your cheek a moment later, a light and brief kiss, mouth almost uncertain against your warm skin….and then it's over.

Steve pulls back slowly.

"Goodnight," he says, eyes soft, smile softer. "Thank you…for today."

"You're welcome."

It's only when you enter the house that the dress dilemma comes to mind.

Well…shit.

The zipper at the back is still unreachable for you, and you can't undo it yourself unless you use scissors — which, considering the price you paid for it, you really don't want to do.

With few options and too much embarrassment, you decide to call Steve back while you still can.

"Steve?" you practically shout, your embarrassment immediately doubling. He's about to open the door of his trusted BMW when he turns to you, confused and unfairly handsome under the street light.

Suddenly using the scissors on the dress doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore.

Well, too late.

"Could you, you know... " you ask, gesturing to the back of your dress, "help me with the zipper?"

His initial surprise quickly gives way to a nervous smile.

"Sure. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn't help?"

"I'm sure that's one of the many job duties."

"Definitely. And I strive to be a top-notch fake boyfriend."

He steps in. With the door closed behind the two of you, the atmosphere takes on a sense of intimacy and anticipation.

"I really can't reach the zipper," you feel the need to explain, even more flustered by his silence.

"No problem," Steve says with that gentle tone that makes your heart do funny things inside your chest. "Turn around."

You turn so that he can reach the dress' zipper, and now you're facing the large oval mirror in the hallway, with Steve standing right behind you.

He reaches out gently, his fingers lightly brushing the back of your dress.

Breathe in.

The temperature around you seems to rise a few degrees.

Breath out.

You feel the gentle pressure of his fingers as he starts to slide the zipper down. He touches your skin and you tell yourself that this is inevitable, that he didn't mean to…but he lingers. Lingers just enough for you to tense up and let out a breathless sigh you certainly didn't intend to.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, his voice soft, filled with concern. You know he's looking at you through the mirror and that's precisely why you keep your gaze on the floor. "Are my fingers cold?"

"No, your fingers..." your voice sounds hoarse. You clear your throat. "...it's fine, I'm okay."

I'm great. I'm more than okay. Nothing out of the ordinary happening here.

However, when the zipper seems to momentarily get stuck — because of course it had to — the two of you exchange equally panicked looks through the mirror, though perhaps for different reasons. An uncomfortable silence fills the air as Steve tries to fix the issue.

"I'm... it's just... sorry, it seems to be stuck."

There's a moment of awkward silence as he tries to figure out a way to open the zipper. You can feel the tension in the air as he struggles to handle the situation.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" you joke, desperately trying to ease the tension.

Steve lets out a low laugh, his warm breath gently caressing your neck.

"Absolutely," he replies, his voice slightly husky. Then, probably without so much as noticing, he adds, "I've taken off many dresses before."

Oh.

"Steve-"

Steve doesn't give up. With skilled fingers, he adjusts the position of the zipper and makes another attempt. It moves.

"We're almost there," he murmurs softly, his voice close to your ear.

Finally, with a smooth motion, the zipper gives way, sliding all the way down. A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you turn around to face Steve, finding his eyes filled with excitement.

"I did it!"

His enthusiastic smile soon gives way to something else as he realizes how close — and technically partly undressed — you are.

And close you are, so very close. Close enough that you and Steve are somehow breathing the same air now.

Close enough, you realize, that a slight tilt of the head and...you'd be kissing.

Kissing.

Did he notice that too?

You hold your dress up over your chest to make sure it doesn't fall because, well…no matter how distracted you are, it's not enough that you'd risk a wardrobe malfunction that'll leave you standing there naked in front of Steve Harrington.

"...thanks," you manage a whisper, lips a hair's breadth away from his. You do know that Steve has no reason not to go now that dinner is over and everything went (surprisingly) well, but a part of you wonders if maybe…

Steve's hands hover around your waist as if unsure of what to do next.

So close...

You hold still.

In that breathless silence, you're under the impression that Steve leans closer, even if just the slightest bit, maybe without even noticing.

"Steve…" you slowly tilt your head to the side.

Steve's heart is pounding in his chest as he feels the warmth of your breath against his lips. Stop, he thinks. His eyes flutter closed, and Steve can't help but lean in just a little bit more.

He raises his arm as if to touch you, wanting to touch you, to hold your face, to bring you closer…but he stops with one of his hands hovering near your cheek.

He pulls away with a gasp, his hands flying up to his face in shock. "I should-" he stammers. "I need to go."

Bam.

Door closed.

And just like that, he's out of the house before you can even open your eyes properly.

He just…pulled away.

What the hell was that?

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve x you #steve x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington drabble

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tender-rosiey · 8 months

Text

frenzy— gojo satoru x gn!reader

a/n: yet another silly thing with megumi and gojo to fill space while I finish other stuff

you take a deep breath before staring in front of you.

you’re going to murder someone, particularly a 6 foot 5 man with hair similar to that of a paintbrush.

the only problem is that he is your fiancé and you would probably be the first suspect when they investigate the oh so mysterious murder—if the daggers you’re glaring are anything to go by.

the second suspect is probably the 11 year old next to you, also known as megumi.

satoru is causing yet another scene as he purchases his favorite sweets from the cute old lady at your local shop.

his face is stuck to the glass as he grins, “I will take this, this, this, oo and that! and lastly that!”

“can’t we leave him?” the boy grumbles.

you sigh, “unfortunately not.”

“babe! honey! sweetheart! I got you some stuff!” he appears right in front of your eyes with frankly more sweets and food than you physically stomach.

he rummages around the bags, “I know this is your favorite, especially this!”

sighing, you cup his face and make him stare you dead in the eyes, “stop spending so much money! I don’t need that much!”

he pouts and his arms wrap around your waist, “what’s the point of my money if I can’t spoil you with it?” he feels the stare of megumi then looks down and scowls at him, “what do you want?”

megumi rolls his eyes and looks away, radiating so much sass and it offends your fiancé beyond words.

satoru gasps then props his hands on his lips, “I got you this limited edition pistachio cupcake! be thankful!”

megumi’s eyes snap to satoru’s and retorts, “it isn’t thanksgiving.”

satoru quirks an eyebrow and uses his hand to fan the air towards his nose. he takes a deep breath and puts his hands together, “I smell…bitch!”

“satoru!”

“sorry!”

they have a glaring contest for a small while, and you simply take some of the bags from satoru’s hand and make your way down the street.

it doesn’t take long before a pair of small feet makes its way into your peripheral and another gigantic pair follows suit.

satoru effortlessly takes the bags from you, carrying them in one arm, while his other one is linked with your own. on the other hand, megumi’s hand gently slips into your own. you give his hand a little squeeze and he gladly returns it back.

satoru has his infinity turned off because what could go wrong in a peaceful moment like this?

a screech is heard from your side. it’s girly, squeaky, and so high pitched to the point you want to smack its owner so badly.

unfortunately though, it’s your fiancé, and he is being ruthlessly attacked by a squirrel

it probably fell from the tree above, but why would it attack satoru?

probably because the idiot accidentally kicked the tree and, as a result, made the poor thing’s entire stock of food fall the ground, crumbled and unusable for poor mister squirrel.

karma is a bi—biscuit. a very bad biscuit.

“y/n, get it off!”

“you’ve been chosen as a sacrifice for the squirrel king, satoru.”

“but—“

“oh thank heavens! we will finally get rid of him,” megumi murmurs.

“why you little bra—AH!”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @wemma67 @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

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mrs-illyrian-baby · 2 months

Text

5 Times There Was Only One Bed (and the one time there were two beds) | Bucky x Reader | One Shot - 4.7k

Whether it's on a mission, a work event or a holiday, your sleeping arrangements never seem to work out as planned. It doesn't really bother you until...it does. Confronted with a night sleeping apart, you and Bucky finally talk.

Warnings: 18+ for language, suggestive situations and sexism (but not from our Bucky he would never). Also rated F for fluffy and S for snuggling.

Written for the @bucks-and-noble Valentrope event - "there was only on bed" the reigning champion of tropes!

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Fics

Your first mission with Bucky Barnes went really well, until it didn’t.

After successfully destroying an underground Hydra base you’d returned to your transport in a less than desirable state.

“Fuck, four flats.” You huffed, poking the tyre with the toe of your tactical boot.

“Fuel line’s been cut.” Bucky muttered from the front, “lucky they didn’t torch it.”

Bucky quietly rubbed a gloved hand over his face, before looking up at the admittedly stunning night sky, he seemed to study it for a moment before making a quarter turn to his left and climbing up a ridge of sandy rock. As if dazed you followed him. You could see for miles thanks to the glow of a full moon, the stars dense and glittering above you both. It was almost romantic, if you didn’t have blood on your cheek and an empty gun on your hip.

Bucky still looked like he could sweep you off your feet though, with his structured tactical vest making his broad shoulders look even wider, his wind swept hair giving him the look of a romantic hero on the front of a paperback, especially with one foot perched on the outcrop of rock above you.

“Let’s go.” He pointed towards a glow rising from beyond the horizon and you’d started walking, doing your best to keep up with his long strides. You could see the motel, how far could it really be.

As soon as you climbed down the motel vanished and the reality of your trek set in.

Around hour two Bucky slowed his pace to allow you to catch up. He didn’t speak much, just what was necessary, and sometimes a hello when he saw you around the compound. But he struck you as shy, rather than cruel or rude. He had checked on you after the mission brief two days ago to make sure you were happy with the plans and, when you were left at the drop off zone, had given you a few of his spare rounds.

You were starting to flag, your steps faltering in the dust and your fingers frozen. Without the sun the desert was so cold the tips of your ears felt like they’d fallen off. Bucky slowed too, cracking a heat pack and handing it over, swapping it for your pack.

“Thank you,” you whispered, teeth chattering.

He didn’t say anything, just gave you a tight smile and turned back towards the motel, growing closer with each step.

Three hours after you’d discovered the flat tyre, you fell through the door of the dingy motel room, exhausted, cold and starving, only to be met with the sight of one queen size bed and a single chair by the window.

“I’m gonna sleep,” you slurred, unable to manage more than zipping off your tactical vest. You fell onto your back and tried to toe off your boots but they were too tight. Your eyes slid shut and you felt the sensation of Bucky sitting on the other side of the thin mattress, making you roll towards him slightly. His weight shifted and settled, the warmth of his body behind yours comforting after everything you’d seen that evening.

He smelt nice too, despite the blood and sweat and gunpowder, he smelt like sandalwood and the desert air. It was all you could think of as you drifted into a deep sleep, how much you wanted to press your face into his back and breathe him in.

The next morning you woke to find Bucky already showered and dressed, pushing his damp hair back from his face and brushing his teeth while he called Torres for new exit plans.

Your boots and socks were off, arranged neatly by the door, a coffee steaming on the bedside table.

Despite all the changes a new team had brought, Bucky liked working with you. You were quiet too and didn’t mind when he was silent for almost a whole mission. You were efficient and skilled, but empathetic, always stopping during the fall out to ensure the team were together and protecting civilians whenever you could.

So it was no surprise to him when you offered to share the bed at the hotel. Sam and Joaquín had long since retired to their room, but you’d both stayed at the hotel bar, silently emptying a bottle of red wine while Bucky continued his 100 Books to Read Before You Die list and you scrolled through your phone, catching up on everything you’d missed during the five day - “phone’s off, and yes, I mean you Agent” - mission.

As soon as you retired to the room you knew there’d been a mistake.

“Ah, shit.” You’d dropped your bag to the floor by the door and Bucky had almost walked into your back, peering over your shoulder at the very neatly made double bed. The only bed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take the couch.” Bucky had sighed, resigned to a night of lumpy, uncomfortable sleep.

“There isn’t one.” You pushed your bag further into the room with your foot and Bucky brushed past to survey the space.

“The floor then.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor, the bed’s big enough for two, we can share.”

You’d said it with such easy grace that he’d felt almost insulted that his chivalrous offer was so easily deflected. Then you’d returned from the bathroom smelling like mint and almond oil, your loose pyjamas hanging off one shoulder and just like that, he gave in.

By the time he’d change and brushed his teeth you were already asleep, holding a pillow close to your chest with your leg well over onto his side of the bed. Carefully he moved you back to your side and slid under the cool sheet next to you.

He woke first the next morning to find you still attempting to occupy the majority of the bed, your face relaxed and mouth slightly open. Bucky indulged in a moment of quiet comfort before getting up. You wouldn’t want him staring at you, you’d be embarrassed that you were trying to cuddle him and it’d ruin the fragile bond you were forming with each mission.

By 9am you were both making fun of Joaquín’s terrible hotel bookings over pancakes and coffee.

“Why can’t we just ask for directions?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

“Yes?”

“Because we just crossed a border illegally, we have no papers, no passports, we’re lying low.”

“They’re hardly going to ask to see our passports, Bucky.” You sighed, hitching your bag higher on your back.

You’d been walking since 5am that morning, crossing through a forest trail to avoid borders and rendezvous with Torres in a village that should have been a few miles away so that you could evac together.

5am seemed a long time ago now that the sun was setting. You’d stopped briefly to heat up a can of beans, a “late lunch, early dinner” Bucky had called it, smiling at you over the steaming mess tin you were sharing.

The scalding heat had dissipated now though and you were tired. The memory of his hand touching yours as you ate still lingering.

“We’re not going to find him tonight, we should stop.” Bucky suggested, “I’ll find a good place to camp.”

Suddenly you were grateful that Mr Overprepared had packed a tent.

“Good idea.” You agreed, rubbing your hands together.

“Well, I will be, you didn’t bring a tent, did you?” He said, walking deeper into the woods, running his foot over the ground, looking for somewhere flat.

Your heart sank, he was right, you’d laughed at him when he’d attached it to his already full pack and he’d said you’d regret it, a teasing look in his eye. Well. You were regretting it. It had started raining a few minutes before, gentle rain drops that got heavy in each gap between the canopy. You had no doubt it’d be heavier soon though, and with the sun setting you didn’t relish the idea of being wet and cold out in the dark.

Bucky stopped and turned, lowering his pack to the floor between two large trunked trees and those twinkling eyes made butterflies take flight in the pit of your stomach. A boyish grin crossed his face as he got to work.

Ten minutes later and the tent was up, strung between the trees and extra protected with some fallen foliage.

Bucky unlaced his boots and placed them between the inner and outer tent before climbing in, when you didn’t follow he poked his head back around the flap of the tent, patting the unrolled sleeping bag next to him.

“C’mon, you really think I’d make you sleep out there?” He was almost laughing, and the sound was so welcome, so stupidly content despite your situation, you could barely stand it.

You squeezed in, using the inner fleece layer from your coat as a blanket. Bucky lifted the side of his sleeping bag.

“C’mon,” he mumbled, eyes already closed, when you hesitated he tugged you closer until you were tucked against his chest. He rearranged your coats on top of you both until you could feel your fingers again. “Warmer?”

“Yeah, thanks, Bucky.”

He didn’t respond, his breathing heavy and even, beneath his sweater you could hear the steady thump of his heart as it lulled you to sleep in his arms.

Bucky hated these stupid events, he’d only been persuaded to come because you’d done those big round puppy dog eyes and said it’d be no fun without him. Joaquín had asked too and, although Sam had joked that it’d be more fun without ‘Mr Grumpy’, Bucky knew he’d only been teasing.

But it was you that had convinced him. It was those eyes, the way your voice had gone up a little and you’d pouted in that silly way you did when Joaquín took the last doughnut at mission briefings. He couldn’t resist. And he had no idea what to do about it.

Behind him he could hear another team talking about you, how they didn't understand why you were always working with ‘that asshole Barnes’ so much.

In the anonymous dark they joked about you, about him, as if you were a reward for a guard dog. A babysitter for his more violent tendencies. Worse, disgusting, accusations about how you'd come by your place in the team. He suddenly missed his mother, she'd have washed their mouths out with soap.

He felt sick.

Bucky took a long swig from his beer and chased it with a shot of whisky, anything to stop his teeth from grinding.

They were wrong on so many counts. You were skilled and fearless, soft and fierce at all the right moments. But you didn't care about him, or Sam or Joaquín for that matter. Not in the vile, disrespectful way those men imagined. You didn’t men like them - him - messy, unpredictable, unstable. You didn’t really need anyone.

But Bucky - he took another swig, trying to stop the swirling feeling in his chest - he cared for you. He couldn't stop thinking about you. And as angry as he was at what he heard, he was equally ashamed for wishing that you did want him.

He’d been watching you dance with Joaquín and one of your other agent friends for more than an hour now. Your body swaying and rippling in time to the music, your dress ghosting over your hips in a way that made his mouth dry. It was one thing to work with you in army fatigues or go to meetings with you in your casual jeans - the stealth suit had been really pushing his patience recently so he didn't want to think about it - but he could at least keep himself under control while your skin was covered. Then you arrived wearing this dress. The neckline alone made him want to sink to his knees in front of you.

Joaquín danced away with your friend, you winked at the lieutenant and smacked his ass as he passed - you were definitely drunk.

Alone you swayed to the music, still in your own world.

“She’s so fucking drunk -”

“Absolute embarrassment -”

“Can’t believe they let her in -”

Bucky slammed his drink down on the bar top and grabbed his leather jacket, stalking across the dancefloor like a shadow, the lights skimming over him.

You were facing away from him and he couldn’t resist, his hands finding your waist so naturally, his body melting into yours, matching the slow roll of your hips so he could lean into your ear.

“I think it’s time to go,” he whisper-shouted above the pounding music.

“Bucky!” You exclaimed, completely ignoring his suggestion, “dance with me!”

You span in his hands, leaning up and into him, your hands around his neck, twisting into his hair. The little tug you gave sent pleasure shooting down his spine. God he was weak, his body moved without his say so, slipping a leg between yours and - fuck - you were grinding against him. He was lost.

The song ended, fading into the next as the lights flickered and he regained enough of his faculties to remember you were drunk, very drunk.

“C’mon, doll, let’s go, I’ll get you some water-”

“You still here, sweetheart? Don’t you think you’ve embarrassed yourself enough.”

Was he still here? Fucking asshole.

Bucky rounded on him, keeping you close with a hand around your waist.

“You boys having a good night?” You grinned, unable to hear their cruel words over the music.

You were just so - good, so kind, even when these pricks were trying to tear you down, your first instinct was to be friendly - he couldn’t stand it.

“I said -” the agent grinned, dipping down, placing his hands on his knees and levelling his face with yours, that patronising glint in his eyes, “are you still fucking here you stupid bitch?”

Bucky saw red, tucking you under his left arm, pushing you behind his back as he had so many times during missions, and smashing his right straight into the agent’s nose.

“Didn’t your Ma teach you to speak to ladies with respect?”

Blood dripped onto the dark dance floor, a circle forming as the other party goers backed away.

Bucky gave the man one last disapproving look and then his attention was solely focussed on you, leading you out past the crowd until you were outside in the freezing air. He draped his jacket around your shoulders and watched as you snuggled inside. Was he dreaming or did you inhale deeply when he did it?

“M’sorry, Buck.” You hiccupped, leaning into him, eyes half shut.

He took your weight gladly, “s’okay, you didn’t do anything wrong, it was those idiots in there.” With staggering steps you made it to the next street over and Bucky said nothing as he unlocked the door.

“Where are we?” You slurred, your ankles twisting in your heels with each step.

“My place, I thought you could sober up here while I call you a cab to get you back to your hotel.”

He settled you on the couch and tried to walk away, but there was a hand hooked in his belt loop.

“F’got you live in Neewww York,” you closed your eyes, resting your head against his hip as you continued to mumble about ‘the big apple’, he willed himself to breath deeply, he was struggling to keep his body under control.

“Yeah - what’s your hotel called?”

“You called me ‘doll’,” you giggled, your fingers closing around his belt.

“I did, sorry, it just slipped out. Your hotel?”

“Dun worry, I liked it - can I stay here? I sleep here.” You let go, only to curl up on the sofa, your dress sliding up your thighs.

“Sure.” He sighed.

Bucky scooped you up again and nudged the door to his bedroom open with his hip, the duvet was still rumpled from the night before. Another night of no sleep, at least it was because of you and not another nightmare. And now you were here, nose pressed into his chest, ready to sleep in his bed.

“Okay, I’ll be out here if you need me, g’night.”

“Stay.”

“I’ll be right outside if you need-”

“Stay.”

And it was those puppy dog eyes again, the pout, the voice, the hand on his belt.

Even though he knew you’d sleep like a log, hogging his duvet and encroaching on his space, even though he knew you’d be embarrassed in the morning, probably hungover as hell. Even though, come the morning, he was right. He still had the best nights sleep he’d ever had since he bought the place.

You hadn’t been this relaxed in a long time, you were sure if you stood up you’d simply melt into a puddle. Sun warm skin, the buzz of a few too many afternoon beers in your system and the sound of laughter as Sam, Joaquín and Bucky continued to try and catch a single fish had lulled you into a half sleep, dozing on the deck of the Paul & Darlene

“Hey, you want another beer, doll?”

Bucky’s voice drifted over to you and you cracked one eye open. He’d unbuttoned his shirt half way down his chest, the white cotton sticking to his sweaty, sunkissed skin. He hadn’t been able to drop the nickname since he'd had to rescue you at the gala. Although you'd done your best to keep yourself away. The way his eyes burned into you when he turned your way, the memory of his body imprinted into yours, his leg pressing against you, the shadow of a hardness that made your mouth water.

He'd been the perfect gentleman, of course. Had made sure you were safe and comfortable, even escorted you back to your hotel in the morning after a huge home cooked breakfast.

He was a gent. And you were an embarrassment. It ate away at you until you couldn't even look at him.

“Hmm?”

“Beer?” He asked again, holding out the bottle, the cap already popped off.

“Uh, yeah, thanks.”

He flopped down beside you on the deck, the last of the day fading beyond the horizon and leaving you bobbing in the inky abyss where the sky met the water.

“You feeling okay?” He took a swig and you watched the condensation on the bottle trickle over his fingers.

“Oh, yeah, fine.”

“You look dazed, that's all, don't want you getting sunstroke on us.”

Bucky looked genuinely concerned and you figured, from the sudden sick feeling inside, that maybe your heart had skipped a few beats or flipped over or something.

“Uh -” Fuck, did he have to leave his shirt open like that? He asked a question, what was it?

“Are you okay?” He used the back of his right hand and placed it against your forehead, “you feel really hot. Maybe you do have sun stroke.”

“I’m fine, honestly.” You shrugged him off, but went looking for a bottle of water anyway.

As the boat made its way back to the dock you watched the lights of Sarah’s house flicker on in the distance. Sam had invited the three of you to stay, taking up all of Sarah’s space and the room on the boat, while her and the boys went into the city for the night. It was a generous offer, one that you couldn’t say no to after months of hard work without a break.

In the pitch dark you all stumbled back up the driveway, only to find Sarah on the porch.

“Sarah -” Sam jogged to reach her first, concern written on his brow.

“I’m alright, Sam, don’t fuss. It’s just Cass, ate too many beignets and threw up so I thought we should come home. He’s upstairs with AJ. Sorry we messed up your plans.”

Bucky took the suitcase from her hands, “it’s your home Sarah, you haven’t messed up anything.”

She threw an arm around his shoulders and hugged him sideways, a familiar gesture you’d seen her make before, but for some reason your tummy twisted, jealousy stirring.

“Means we’ll need some rooms back though, I know I said you could all stay but-”

A chorus of voices filled the air, refusing to let Sarah apologise, before you started to get organised.

“Well Cass needs his own bed, that’s a given.” You said, worried that the young boy might be ill as well as over excited about his food.

“Of course,” Joaquín agreed. “Sarah, you’re obviously taking your room too. We wouldn’t ask you to give that up. I’ll go on the couch in the sitting room.” He smiled.

You looked between your other two colleagues, but Bucky spoke first.

“Well if Torres’ taking the couch I’m not going to argue, I’d rather be in a bed even if it is on a boat.” He ruffled Joaquín’s hair affectionately and the younger man shoved at him.

Sam looked at you, “you can take my bed, if you want, I can change the sheets -”

“I’ll sleep on other sofa -”

“You’ll share with me, right doll?”

The three of you spoke at once, and Sarah raised her eyebrows then her hands before opening the front door, “I’ll be in bed, you kids figure this out yourself.”

“Bucky -” Sam started.

“Sam - we’ve shared before,” there was a glimmer of hope that glowed inside of you when Bucky stepped closer, his shirt fluttering open again in the breeze, revealing his toned chest and that dusting of dark hair, creeping under the buckle of his jeans. “Besides, wouldn’t be the first time you’ve made us share, would it?” Bucky joked, nudging Sam as they went to collect more blankets and bedding, “what about that hotel-”

His voice faded until all you could hear were the crickets in the distance, you’d forgotten about Joaquín until he walked past, turning backwards at the last moment so he could see you again, “if you don’t want to share with Barnes…” he let the offer hang in the air and you were torn.

Really, you should protest and ask for your own space. But then you’d missed the sound of his steady breathing beside you, the weight and warmth of him when he turned over into your space. In fact you’d missed him completely, even if you’d been avoiding him on purpose.

Secretly you hoped the bedroom on the boat would be cooler now the sun had gone down, perhaps he’d hold you like he did while you were camping.

Sam let you back onto the boat, making sure you had enough blankets for two distinct sleeping arrangements if you wanted.

Bucky slid into the cool cotton sheets in only his boxers and, shyly, you followed. Expecting to sleep alone you’d packed shorts and a vest, revealing more than you really wanted to considering he clearly didn’t return your interest.

Bucky kept politely to his side of the bed, his arms awkwardly stiff at his side when he turned away from you. Unable to stop yourself you turned too, watching the strong line of his back relax as his breathing evened out.

The boat bobbed gently, lulling you to sleep. You were vaguely aware of a strong arm tugging you closer, the smell of Bucky’s shampoo and sun cream and the weight of a bed rising to meet you.

Everything went perfectly, again, until it didn’t.

Intelligence? Secured. Exit? Executed to perfection. Adrenaline fueled burger stop where Bucky wiped a drop of sauce from your lips exactly as you planned? Complete. Motel booking? Perfect?

You and Bucky stared at the two motel beds.

In the entire time you’d been working together you’d never really managed it. There were either no rooms, the room was wrong or there was no room at all, just whatever you could find. And now there were two beds and you felt sick and your head hurt and after everything you’d seen and done today the last thing you wanted to do was sleep alone.

“Doll?” Bucky placed a hand on the small of your back and reality came screeching to a halt around you.

“Sorry, Buck, I must be really tired, I’m going to shower and get in bed. Do you mind if I go first?” You were already half to the bathroom, the zip down on your tac suit, were you imagining Bucky’s eyes dropping down to where your skin was revealed?

“Of course, whatever you need, I’ll just be…here,”

After a perfunctory shower consisting of a dribble of hot water that quickly turned into a freezing cold torrent, you returned to the shared room.

Bucky hurried past, his body brushing against yours in the doorway, firm and muscular, yet you knew that being held by him was soft and warm. You tried not to feel too sad that there’d be no excuse for getting close to him again for the rest of your trip.

By the time he was finished you were tucked into bed, trying to read the paperback you’d found in the draw because the television signal was terrible.

He stood in the window, a shadow against the light filtering in through the thin material of the curtains, ruffling his wet hair with a towel, his sweatpants so at odds with the man who’d been by your side just a few hours before. This was a rare sight, one you were privileged to see.

Bucky tossed the towel onto the chair by the door and then sat on the end of the other bed, watching you read from the corner of his eye. You knew because the last three paragraphs had become a blur of words, your focus solely on Bucky.

“Maybe we should go to sleep, we’ve got a long drive tomorrow.”

“You’re right.”

You both slid down into bed, separately, and you’d never felt so alone.

In the darkness you could see the shape of him, facing the door with his hand tucked under his pillow, and somehow the darkness made you braver.

“Would it be weird if I said I missed you?” You whispered.

Bucky rolled over, but put his hand back under his pillow, no doubt he had something hidden under there, he usually did.

“I miss you too.”

You shuffled back, letting the sheets fall further down the bed, “I know you have your own space over there and you probably don’t want to be all cramped up with me, but if you wanted to share still -”

Bucky was out of his bed before you could finish, slipping under the sheets. He’d taken off his sweatpants before getting into bed, his legs bed warm against your own and you bit your lip, trying to focus on his face and not on his almost naked body just inches away.

“Hi.”

“Hi, doll.”

“You don’t have to keep calling me that.”

“What if I want to?”

He was so close, his breath minty when it ghosted over your lips, his nose touching yours, his long eyelashes making his crystal eyes look brighter.

“What if I missed you being in my bed? What if I always want to share with you?” He reached his hand out, cupping your cheek.

“You do?”

And then his lips were on yours, so soft, his tongue slipping past yours as you gasped. One cool metal hand and one callused, drawing you closer, a leg between your thighs, your bodies rolling together and - “oh, Bucky.” You sighed into his mouth, letting him tug you into him.

“I - I want that too -” you squeezed out between kisses, “I wanna always - always - be in your bed - I - I always hoped we had too.”

“You did?” He pulled back, stroking a thumb down your cheek and over your kiss bitten lips.

“Uh huh, I did,”

“You been sabotaging us this whole time, baby?” He laughed, his eyes sparkling.

“No,” you laughed too, turning your head to kiss the pad of his thumb, “maybe I should’ve though.”

“Maybe,” his hand left your face to cup the back of your neck, drawing you down for another languid kiss.

“How long?”

“How long, what?”

“How long have you wanted -” his question trailed off into another series of featherlight kisses.

“Since, ugh - Utah?” You offered shyly, embarrassed to admit that you’d been head over heels from the start.

With a groan he rolled you over, slipping his body between your open legs, his hips settling just right against your own. “Fuck,” he dropped his forehead to yours, “we could’ve been doing this the whole time.” He admitted, lifting his head to smile down at you.

“Well then I guess we have some making up to do,” you linked your hands behind his head, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I guess we do, doll.”

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes/reader #Bucky Barnes x female!Reader #Bucky Barnes/female reader #bucky x female reader #Bucky fluff #bucky

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kamiversee · 2 months

Text

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 1 || The List

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, blackmail, heavy sexual tension & semi-smut.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4.9k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——BROKE, BORED, AND HORNY, the average experience for a college student such as yourself. Hardly any money to get by with, nothing to do at three o'clock in the afternoon, and a random pulse of hormones begging for your attention.

With only one class on Wednesday that takes place early in the morning, all your schoolwork taken care of, and your luck in the search of a new job being absolute shit-- you find yourself lacking the funds to go out and do anything to pass the time and sexually frustrated beyond belief.

Your lips part to release a sigh. On days like this, you'd have your roommate to fulfill your boredom as she would usually entertain you with some new story or experience. Between the two of you, she was the one who always had something or someone to do.

There was hardly a day you didn't speak to her about a new event that took place with her and one of her lovers. And if it wasn't about her love/sex life, she'd fill you in on some other miraculous thing that happened to her.

The woman had a lot going on. Unlike you, she could score a new job with ease-- people loved her. She also went to parties and often came home with a bunch of drama to fill you in on.

Now, the two of you weren't besties or anything, and your friendship is built solely on the fact that you live together but, she's the only friend you have. Which is sad considering the fact that you're a great person to be around.

Regardless, you currently lay across your bed, your eyes fixated on the ceiling above as you mentally decide on what it is you should do to pass the time. You had already tried applying for more jobs that you're sure are going to dismiss you like the past ones so now you dwell in thoughts of what to do.

It's random but, there is this undeniable heat pulsing from in between your thighs.

You haven't been laid in months. Hell, men barely glance in your direction for all you know. Nevertheless, you know you're an attractive woman so, as you remain still in your bed lost to your thoughts, a new idea comes to mind.

What if you said fuck school and your, already depleting, social life and just decided to be a stripper or something? After all, they make hella money...

Or what if you decided to go to one of those sites and become a camgirl? People would watch. You'd get money.

But, you'd also be shunned and judged by those at your school. People have a tendency to be all too worried about what others have going on in their lives...

As you think about things further, you know for sure that you don't want to be a prostitute. But at the same time, you need some way to make some cash while you await one of your jobs to accept you.

Too many thoughts swirl around in your mind and you end up letting out a groan of frustration.

"Fuck life..." You mumble to yourself as you extend a hand over to your nearby cellphone.

Raising the device to your face, you decide to push off thoughts of making quick cash and instead figure that you should take care of the constant throbbing coming from between your legs. After a glance at the time, you place your phone back down.

You then take a quick glance around your bedroom, spotting that your door is wide open. You probably should've closed it but, you weren't expecting things to go down the way they did.

Your roommate is in class right now and she's always been on top of her education, despite her promiscuous lifestyle, so you don't expect her to come home for another few hours. Hell, you were texting her about twenty minutes ago-- she'd been ranting to you about how the class was stressing her out.

That aside, you end up leaving your door open, feeling too lazy to go close it, and seeing no point in doing so anyway.

You lay in the middle of your bed and the front door to your apartment is clearly visible with the way your room is set up. Again, your roommate shouldn't be coming home anytime soon.

So with that in mind, you move to relieve yourself. You remove the lower half of your clothing and toss them aside, parting your thighs and quickly going to tend to yourself.

You start slow, giving yourself a bit of a tease, as you close your eyes and envision someone else. There's no one particular in mind but, you still have thoughts of someone aside from yourself assisting you. You think of longer, thicker fingers-- pushing into you at a deeper rate than your own can.

A couple of moans escape you but you're completely unashamed. It's just you after all.

You imagine someone muscular, their body towering over your own, strong hands touching your body in the most perfect ways. As two of your fingers plunge in and out of yourself, you move a free hand to grope your breast-- still imagining another person.

Someone who smells good, and says all the right things, maybe they'd call you a slut or maybe they'd compliment you and tell you how well you're doing... Fuck, you haven't been with someone who meets your desires in a long time.

Your moans steadily grow desperate and louder. You wish you could just call someone and tell them to come over and help you with your situation. Your roommate has that ability-- she hooks up with a lot of people.

You on the other hand do not have that, at all. Instead, you feel almost pathetic as you try to please yourself. It feels good but it's like something's lacking, like you can't get yourself to that blissful feeling. Sure, you'll be satisfied in the end but never to the point where your legs are shaking and you can hardly breathe correctly.

Good sex sounds amazing to you right now. Hell, you'd beg for it at this point. With the way your moaning has grown far louder and your fingers had up their pace, you were getting closer and closer to a simple release.

You'd do anything to have some hot guy say all the right things to you, to coax you through your orgasm, and to even do things beyond your imagination. But, sadly, you lay alone-- fingering yourself with your bedroom door wide open pathetically.

Regardless, your thighs draw together and your back arches off the bed as a higher and more desperate moan leaves your lips.

Then, just as you feel the knot in your core about to release, a voice interrupts you.

"Well, fuck." A man suddenly says, the familiarity of his voice echoing through your apartment as you practically jump out of your skin.

Your soul damn there left your body with the way the male's voice startles you. The covers of your bed are quickly grasped and pulled over your half-naked body as a shriek of surprise leaves you.

"What the fuck?!" You shout, your body now covered beneath your blanket as your eyes frantically fall in the direction of the voice.

The front door to your apartment is open, a tall man stands there, phone in hand, and a surprised look on his face. The worst part about it all wasn't even that you got caught...

It's the fact that you know him. For the man at your front door is none other than Gojo Satoru.

His bright snow-colored hair is beyond noticeable, widened oceanic blue eyes peering in your direction, and a sharp jawline dropped with a little smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

You blink.

Gojo blinks.

Both of you are still and speechless. Embarrassment and shame are running all over you, the feeling so overwhelming that it was as though it were sinking into your veins and crawling all over you. You wanted to disappear from the room, excuse yourself from existence, and just pretend like everything that just happened didn't happen.

You swallow, hard. "W-What the fuck are you doing here?!" You manage to shout out to the man.

Gojo blinks a few more times as if he's trying to gather everything he just heard and saw before his face relaxes and he comes to his senses. The man steps fully into your apartment and shuts the door behind him. His arms extend to the air, putting his hands up defensively.

"Uhm," Gojo lets out a scoff. "Shoko sent me to grab something for her..."

Shoko Ieiri... Your roommate.

Your body is sweating a little and soft pants are leaving you due to what you'd just been in the middle of. Your brows pinch together and narrowed eyes are sent to Gojo. "What the hell, w-why didn't she just call me or something?!" You huff.

Gojo scratches the back of his head and his shoulders raise to a shrug. "She said you wouldn't answer her texts. Plus, I was looking for an excuse to leave class anyway." He explains.

You break eye contact with the man. Gojo and Shoko have an interesting relationship. You only know Gojo because of her, she's had him over a few times but you and him hardly ever speak. The first time you saw him you thought he was hot, hell, you still think he is but, you always assumed he and Shoko had something going on so you never tried anything.

The two are pretty close with each other too, based on what little you've seen. So, technically, it doesn't surprise you that Shoko gave him a key to the apartment. Actually, Gojo's explanation makes perfect sense. Shoko probably forgot something and asked Gojo to come get it for her since you didn't answer her texts and she hates leaving class.

Fuck, this is really embarrassing. After this, there's no way you'll be able to face Gojo properly.

"U-Uhm..." You swallow again, "Sorry you had to walk in on that..." You mumble.

You assume that Gojo doesn't hear you too well since he's far outside your room so you think nothing of it when he paces closer to your bedroom door. Once there, you notice the screen of his phone is on, the device held firmly in his hands.

Your sights raise to his face and suddenly, you notice he's smirking.

"No need to apologize, I am not complaining." Gojo says enthusiastically, "But, you should probably know that I uh... caught your little fiasco on camera."

Your heart sinks into what feels like your toes. "W-What?" You voice out shakily, your eyes wide and your lips parted in shock.

The man snickers, "You look scared..."

"You just told me you caught me on camera!" You shout, "Why wouldn't I be scared?!"

Gojo's eyes lower and he tilts his head, that smirk of his yet to fade away. "What do you think I'm gonna do? Post it?" He responds with sarcasm.

You give him a blank stare. "I don't know!" You huff, "How did you-, no, why did you get me on camera? A-And while we're on that, fucking delete it!" You order.

"Well, I didn't intentionally record you." He informs, "I was trying to record myself, y'know for the ladies, and my camera was turned around." Gojo says casually.

Your face twists up in disgust, "You were trying to record yourself as you walked into my apartment?"

"Hell yeah, you guys have good lighting." He shrugs.

You don't know how exactly to respond to that so you remain quiet for a few seconds. You can't get upset at him for what seems to be a genuine accident so, you let out a sigh and calm yourself down a little.

"Okay, fine, whatever." You say. "I get it was an accident so can you delete it now?"

You expected him to be simple and delete the video, hoping that you guys could truly act like this never happened. But boy were your expectations wrong...

Gojo suddenly starts laughing, the sound causing your unease to return. His face shifts into something mischievous and he holds up his phone, "Now, now, why on earth would I delete such a thing?" He asks you.

"Excuse me?"

"Did I stutter?" Gojo responds, "I can't believe you actually thought I wouldn't keep this little gem."

Your lashes flutter repetitively in utter disbelief. "Gojo are you kidding me right now?" You scoff, "You recorded me without my consent!"

"So?" Gojo hums in a confused manner.

"So?!" You echo, "That's illegal, you fucking asshole."

"Woah," Gojo motions his hand out to you as if to stop you from doing something, "Watch the tongue, sweetheart. I know it's illegal. But really, what're you going to do? Go the police?" He utters playfully.

You give him a completely blank stare. "Uhm. Yes?!" You shout.

He chuckles, "Okay. Go ahead."

You don't like his response. At all. "I will." You voice out with not an ounce of confidence.

"Okay." He whispers nonchalantly.

Gojo's whole attitude is throwing you off. Why isn't he worried? What does he plan on doing??

"Y-Y'know you'll be arrested right?" You tell him.

He nods, "Mhm, I'm aware."

Slowly, you shift under the covers to grab your sweatpants and slip into them. After which, you remove the blanket and step out of your bed. Gojo still has this smirk on his face and his entire vibe is irritating you.

"I'm serious y'know," You speak as you move towards a pair of slippers, your back to the man. "I'll go report you to the police right now if you don't delete the video."

Gojo raises his phone to his face and taps on the screen. The sounds that emit from his device make your entire body freeze in place. It's you-- your moans can be heard loud and clearly, the sound giving you embarrassment.

"Fuck," Gojo utters, "You kinda sound like a pornstar moaning like that."

You swivel your head around to him with a dangerous glare. "Fucking delete that." You snap.

He doesn't even look up from his phone, enamored by whatever else he caught on camera. The recording plays over and over and you see Gojo bite down on his lower lip as he watches it intently.

"Shit." He curses, his voice low. His blue eyes then flick up to you and you flinch, "You're sexy as hell." He compliments.

His words make your face twist up. Maybe under different circumstances, you would've loved such a compliment but, given the situation, it only pissed you off even more.

"Fuck you, I'm going to the police." You spat, turning away and bending down for your slippers.

"Have fun." Gojo teases.

Okay, you couldn't take it anymore. Something about the fact that he has no fear of getting arrested irks your core. You stand up straight and turn your body to face him.

"Okay, seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? You'll be arrested and go to prison if you keep that video." You emphasize, trying to really get your words through his head.

"Like I said before, I know." Gojo hums in casualty. "But, before I'm arrested and before you even make it to the police... I'll just send this video to every person I know and post it on every platform." He tells you, his words bringing chills to your body.

Fear courses through your bloodstream. "W-Why the hell would you do that?"

"I'm bored," Gojo says plainly. "I need some entertainment in my life and what better entertainment than watching Shoko's roomie get slut-shamed by the whole school?"

"You're..." You struggle for words. "F-Fucking evil."

Gojo clicks his phone off and slides it down into the pocket of his pants. He then takes a single step into your room, "Or.." He begins, his gaze now focused on your face, "You can do me a favor."

The facial expression you hold is nothing short of pissed off as you fold your arms under your chest and continuously glare at him. "What kind of favor-, wait, are you blackmailing me right now??" You scoff.

"I ammm," Gojo drags out, "I'm glad you caught on. Anyways though, it's nothing bad."

"If I do this favor will you delete the video?"

"Of course."

"Alright, what is it?" You question further.

Gojo takes a few more steps closer to you, "Well y'see, I have a little list for you to complete."

"A list?" You repeat. "What kinda list?"

"A list of names," Gojo utters.

"Okay," Your eyes narrow at him as he gets closer and closer to you. "And what am I doing with these names?"

Gojo tips his head to the side and smiles, "Fucking them."

Your eyes go wide, far wider than they had so far. "I'm sorry, what?!"

"What? This doesn't sound exciting to you?" He asks, clearly finding enjoyment in his little plan.

"Hell no! You just told me I have to go fuck some random people on a list in order for you to delete a video of me!! Why would I find that exciting??" You rant.

The sound of Gojo clicking his tongue is heard, "Well, you didn't let me get to the good part..." He says with a little pout.

You give him an expressionless stare, feeling as though this is only going to get worse.

"I'll pay you," Gojo adds.

"What, why?"

"Cause', I'm not that heartless." He sighs. "See, lemme explain again. So, I have this list of names and all you have to do is seduce every person successfully. With each person, I'll pay you..." He hums to think for a second, "A thousand dollars. And then, when the list is complete, I'll delete the video!" Gojo explains cheerfully.

You've never given a person a more crazed look than you are right now. Gojo is insane. Literally insane. He has issues, mentally. He has to. That's the only logical thing behind why he would come up with such a ridiculous scheme. He's a fucking madman.

It takes you a minute but you eventually respond to that. "And if I refuse...?" You ask slowly.

Gojo's smile widens, "Everyone will receive a lovely little video of you."

"Right." You say, your lips pulling into a thin line.

Again, you take a minute before you say anything else. The little game Gojo wants to play with you isn't the worst thing in the world. It's not like he's forcing you to go rob or harm someone... Plus, he's paying you.

"A thousand dollars per person?" You eventually ask.

"Mhm."

"Make it two thousand and we have a deal." You demand as you give the male a firm look.

Despite your look of confidence, you're actually terrified. Gojo's insane, he might just say screw the whole thing and post you for fun-- regardless of the fact that he'll be arrested.

"Are you really in any position to request such a thing?" Gojo asks you.

You abruptly take notice of how close he's gotten to you. From your bedroom door to only one step away from you, Gojo Satoru has found himself in close proximity to your smaller frame. You have to look up at him because of the height difference and you can even smell the freshly scented cologne that clings to his body.

You gulp, "No..."

He smiles down at you. "Y'know what, fine. Two thousand per person it is."

Your face brightens up. At least you're getting something out of this. "T-Thank you." You whisper.

"Mhm." Gojo hums deeply.

The close space between you two is making you see his features more clearly. As stated earlier, you've always found the man attractive but damn he's like something out of a fucking movie. Asshole or not, he's got really pretty eyes, he practically towers over you, he's fit-- you can see veins running down his arms and the shirt he wears is rather tight so his chest is outlined nicely, and he just oozes in sex appeal.

If he hadn't blackmailed you, you would've definitely tried to flirt with him. But, now you stand too scared to do so. Who knows what's going on in the man's mind?

"So," You begin, your voice soft and small. "When can I see this list?"

You've decided to calm yourself after seeing that there was no way out of this so, now you'll speak to him as normal as possible.

Gojo's gaze travels down your body, completely shameless. His focus stays on your tits for a minute, noticing that your nibbles are prominent due to earlier activities. He then looks down to your waist, then your hips, then finally back up to your face-- specifically your lips. They look plump, soft, and pretty in the eyes of Gojo.

He wonders what they'd feel like.

"Soon," Gojo answers to you. "I'll show it to you in a minute, I promise."

You're not sure why he's waiting to show you but you nod. "Okay.."

"In the meantime..." Gojo trails off as he takes that last step, his body now a few inches away from touching yours. "Well," His tone is low as he talks to you. He then raises a hand to your chin and lifts your head a little, his thumb moving to swipe over your bottom lip. "You never got to finish what you were doing... I'm sure that leaves you feeling frustrated."

His small touch makes you shiver. Gojo's hands are so soft, the pad of this thumb pressing into your bottom lip and the look on his face appearing like he wants to do nothing more than devour you.

"I-I'll be fine." You stammer.

He lets out a chuckle. "Really? But you were so desperate a few minutes ago." Gojo then leans closer to you, your breath hitching as he uses the grip on your chin to pull you to him. You can smell a fresh scent of mint leaving his mouth as he speaks due to how close your faces are.

"Poor girl..." He coos sweetly, "You couldn't call anyone to help you, hm?"

Your glance has softened by a lot. It was as though the man were putting you under a spell with the way his touches and words made your mind numb. Is this the same man who just blackmailed you? Why is he looking at you like he can't go another second without feeling you? Gojo's desire for you is so strong it's almost frightening.

"I didn't need help, Gojo." You voice out through gently gritted teeth.

He cocks his head to the side, "But you wanted some, didn't you?"

The way he's read you like a book is annoying. His words are true after all, you did want help. You wanted someone else to please you, it's all you could think about.

You roll your eyes and glance off to the side. "So what if I did? Why do you care?"

Gojo's expression softens. "You could've called me." He suddenly tells you.

His words bring you shock and confusion. You don't even know him that well and you've hardly spoken to him. Aside from the smallest interactions that usually consist of saying hey or him asking you where something is, you guys don't speak.

So what the hell does he mean by that? You have his number but you've only texted in short regards to Shoko, nothing more.

Narrowed and confused eyes are given to Gojo as you return your gaze to fixate on him. "Why would I call you?" You ask him.

Gojo's brows furrow, "Shoko never told you...?"

"Told me what?"

He then snickers, finding something deeply amusing. "Wow. I would assume that after talking about you so much she would've said something."

"Gojo, what the hell are you talking about?" You ask as you hold a straight face.

Gojo's amused expression fades away. It instead turns into something dark, lustful, and almost desperate. His head tilts to the side again and he holds your face up as he leans down-- much closer than before.

Gojo's lips ghost over your own and he gives you a firm glare from beneath low hooded eyes, "I want you." He breathes out.

His confession brings a weakening to your knees and causes your breath to get stuck somewhere in your throat. The seriousness in both his eyes and tone is shocking. He never made any moves on you before, nor did he ever look at you like he wanted you so you're completely confused by him.

Yet, confusion or not, Gojo is serious. He does want you, he always has from the very moment he laid eyes on you.

While you'd been oblivious to it, Gojo has had his eyes on you for months. Every time he comes over with Shoko, his first question is about you and your whereabouts. He never made a move on you before because you hardly gave him the time of day so he figured you weren't interested. Not only that but the man assumed you had a boyfriend for a while.

But here you are now, your eyes wide as you stare at him, pretty lips parted slightly as you struggle to breathe correctly, and completely reduced to nervousness. Gojo's enamored by it. He likes the effect he has on you.

Hell, everything he said about the video earlier was all a bluff. He'd never actually post you all over the place, he holds a deep care for you. And truth be told, Gojo was nervous when you said you were going to go to the police so he just thought as fast as he could-- quickly coming up with the threat of exposing you.

As for the list of names, they're all people that Gojo owes different favors who happen to be in need of some sexual satisfaction. So if he can get you to sleep with them all, not only would you be helping him clear his favorable debt but Gojo would appreciate it dearly.

The blackmailing part just happened to work in his favor but he's really not that evil, even though he pretends to be. But he can't deny the fact that he was feeling bored lately and needed entertainment in his life, and this little list game provided him with exactly that.

You take a deep breath, "You... want me?" You repeat eventually, hardly seeing any truth behind his words.

"You've never seen the way I look at you?" Gojo asks in return, "I want you more than you know." He utters.

You don't want to believe him but you're forced to. He's not lying, you can hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes. The only problem is that you can't tell if he wants you sexually or romantically but, you'd prefer the first option at the moment. It'd be a lie to say that the man wasn't turning you on at this very second.

Your mouth opens to speak but he cuts you off. Gojo's thumb pushes to your lower lip again and he keeps your lips parted for him. He then inches impossibly closer, the two of you now sharing breaths. His head is still tilted and you can feel a tingle in your lips as your body awaits him to kiss you. It felt like he was about to and it looked like he wanted to.

Gojo's voice is quiet and seductive in a whisper, "C'mon pretty girl, weren't you fantasizing about someone fucking you?"

Churning is felt in your stomach. Your thoughts are jumbling and you're craving the male strongly. Your lips and his make the faintest contact as you talk, "Gojo I..."

"Plus," He cuts you off. Your eyes are on the verge of shutting and the sexual tension between your lips and his is impossible to ignore for much longer. "I am the first person on that list," Gojo informs you.

You breathe out shakily. "S-So?" You ask.

Gojo slides his hand down from your chin to your neck, his long and slim fingers curling around your throat in an almost possessive manner. "So... why don't we just help each other out?" He purrs.

Chills are slipping down your spine and you feel weak and small in face of Gojo, as if you're ready to just follow along and do whatever he says. Your arousal from earlier has returned to you, this time even worse. It'd be an understatement to say you were pooling in your underwear and the heat is so overwhelming that you've subtly been moving your thighs a little to create the smallest bit of friction.

If sex appeal was a person, it'd be Gojo Satoru. Damn the way he has you horny all over again and not able to think properly without even putting his lips on you yet.

It's almost sad the way a small, "Okay." Escapes you and hits the man's ears.

Gojo had been steadily growing hard since the moment he walked into the apartment and saw you. His mind won't stop replaying your moans or reimagining the look of your legs spread and your fingers inside you. So the second you utter an okay and give him your consent, his cock grows painfully hard within his pants and he too becomes dizzy with arousal.

Thoughts of what the man originally came to the apartment to do have disappeared. Hell, Gojo couldn't care less about what Shoko asked him to get for her. You're the sole thing on his mind right now and he has no intentions on changing that.

GOJO SATORU ☐

mlist || next chpt

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wizzard890 · 1 year

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So there’s a trend that I absolutely hate in online discussions of (non-satirical) genre, particularly genre that’s influenced by the gothic. This trend makes my eyes roll back in my head until I can see through my own skull. It makes me want to bite a car in half. It makes me want to step into the jellyfish tank at the New York Aquarium and beg for the sweet sweet annihilation of a thousand stings.

I call this trend: Oh Just Be Sensible, and it goes like this:

“Why do vampires always end up covered in blood when they feed, I don’t spill soup all down the front of my shirt when I eat dinner. Real toddler energy.”

“Why do people always cut their hands to swear oaths, everyone knows it would hurt way less on the [insert body part with fewer nerve endings]”

“Vampires shouldn’t be feeding from people’s wrists, it damages the tendons, if doctors don’t take your blood from your wrist, vampires shouldn’t either! No one will be able to flex their fingers the next day.”

(This comes up a lot with vampires, I mention, as I stride purposefully into the glistening mass of jellyfish.)

There are direct answers for some of these when it comes to the practical visual language of a particular medium (for example, you cut your hand on stage / on set because you can hold a blood pack in there, and even if you don’t have an effect, the gesture and its purpose can be discerned from the nosebleeds) but what really gets me is how thematically boneheaded this sort of observation is.

Like, let’s go down the list here.

Why do vampires end up covered in their victims’ blood? Well Scoob, do you think it could maybe have something to do with their bestial, inhuman nature? Or with the erotic and sensual abandon with which they can approach violence, now that they’re untethered from human morals?

Why do people cut their hands to swear oaths? Aside from what I mentioned above, do you think maybe it’s because it adds a layer of gravity to see two people swearing an oath to one another with blood dripping from their clasped hands? Do you think it’s maybe to evoke a unity of body, something greater and more primal than a unity of word? Or maybe to remind us of the dire consequences of breaking a blood oath?

Why are authors having vampires feed from people’s wrists if it damages their tendons? Damn, maybe that’s because it’s where the pulse is. You know, the pulse? The heartblood, the thing that races when you’re scared or turned on or both? The thing that stutters when you’re close to death and could, should the author choose, ring in the vampire’s ears like a chime or a great pounding thunderclap. Maybe in a story about undead beings who drink blood, we can sacrifice a bit of sensible reality in order to enforce the emotion and thematic heft of a scene?

Images like these communicate what is happening between two characters, not just the events that are transpiring! No one making stories forgot to consider ~sensible~ little observations, because it would be absolutely inane to consider an observation with the creative value of a wet paper towel. This stuff is part of our visual language for a reason! Themes also need to be communicated!

God, like, okay, I’m exhausted and the aquarium staff keeps yelling at me when they find me here, but let me just wrap up by saying that relationships, character and meaning are expressed in so many ways beyond dialogue or internal monologue, and those expressions are so rarely sensible.

(Also all this shit looks cool as hell, do you really want your protagonists swearing to die for one another by dabbing their slightly bleeding elbows together, grow up.)

#me: don't make me tap the sign #sign: fun allowed #(thematic clarity and character relationships should trump sensible realism every time)#(realism is fine! but monocle popping smirky little 'hmm I think dan brown was an idiot' smugness is just....bad!)#(it's bad and it makes for bad writing!)#my thoughts about books

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stxrvel · 3 months

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the cliff (1)

hi guys! this is the first azriel fic i post here. i mainly do marvel but i just couln't stop thinking about this so i decided to take it forward. i hope you guys like this! see u next time <;33

summary: you never thought that the road to your mate could bring so much suffering… pairing: azriel x f!reader words: +4k warnings: briefly descriptions of torture, bad words, descriptions of sorrow¿?, angst but a happy ending, i think. also, English is not my first language and i actually read acotar in another language, so sorry for any mistakes! and also!! i haven't read a court of silver flames, so probably the facts around cassian and nesta's bond and feyre's pregnancy aren't accurate, sorry for that!

part 2: the house

part 3: the court

part 4: the routine

You were sure that the decisions you had made shouldn't have led you to that place. With your limp legs dragging against the grass, the wet feel of the mud drying coldly on your skin with each gale, increasing the chills that ran through your body, not only because of the dread and fear you had for your life, but because of the scorching frost on the top of that cliff.

There was something magical about wishing upon a shooting star. You knew it, your parents were living proof that it worked. They had met just after your mother had wished upon a dying star. Mates. And they promised you it would be the same for you. You hoped it would be the same for you when, encouraged by your same parents, you wandered Prythian in search of meeting the other end of the bond that you knew connected you to someone beyond, in search of a connection greater than you could ever understand.

You firmly believed in that magic one night, in the midst of the lonely and almost desolate journey from end to end, when lying watching the night sky you saw it pass by. A helpless shooting star.

You made your wish with your heart in your hand, closing your eyes and whispering as if it were a prayer. Maybe it was. You didn't know if that was what had gone wrong.

All you knew was that, the next day, your journey was over.

You hadn't finished waking up when you found yourself being dragged across the ground of the Day Court, right at the border it shared with the Night Court, from the hands of Ilyrian soldiers who wouldn't listen to your shouted words. Or simply preferred to ignore them.

You weren't sure how much you had screamed at them, even as they took you in the most savage way possible and furrowed you through the wind, the cold gusts of the Nightmare Court piercing your skin. But it had to have been a good while, because the next time you were above ground your throat was so dry you could barely breathe.

You didn't know what was going on, not even when days later, after feeding yourself with only mush and water, you met the first person willing to tell you something and not turn his face away from you. It was a man, Ilyrian too, with gigantic black wings that covered almost all the light in the small room where you were held captive. His constant presence invoked darkness.

He never introduced himself. He would only ask “who sent you?”, waiting for a sane answer from you, one that you couldn't give because every time you tried to say something that was not remotely like what he wanted to hear, he would move two fingers of his left hand and two more soldiers would enter the room and grab you roughly by the arms, pulling you closer to a barrel with water that was in the corner of the room. That was the water you usually drank, and it was never as cold as when they entered the room.

Needless to say, after a couple of days, you couldn't even go near the water anymore.

It could've been a couple of days, weeks or months… you weren't sure anymore. Time had become an insignificant concept compared to your desire for freedom. You had explained countless times to the Ilyrian the reasons why they had found you wandering near the Court, but that wasn't enough. Not even when you told him that they could confirm it with your family in the Summer Court. No excuse was good enough, the Ilyrian seemed to simply want to find a culprit, whatever he had to do, whoever he had to point the finger at.

And then, one day, you thought you saw a glimmer of hope. Another lone shooting star, which you barely caught through the bars the room had for windows. The memory of your parents flooded your memory, a dark cloud settling over you and drowning out any sense of calm you were able to collect after the ilyrians left. Through tears and sobs you begged the star for a way out, hoping its magic was powerful enough to fight the savage soldiers.

The next day more ilyrians than usual appeared, but they did not enter the room. Not after the High Lord of the Night Court did so first.

And you thought the star had heard you.

“She didn't say anything?”

His dismissive, indifferent tone almost made you shudder on the icy floor, but you didn't let that take away your hope, kneeling in front of him with dried tears and dirt on your face. With your hands clasped in front of you, as if he were a deity personified, you begged him to listen to you, but you had to watch him send you a disinterested glance before he turned in the direction of the entrance.

“Take her away.”

You didn't know why you had expected the high lord to intercede on your behalf, knowing the stories that brimmed through the Courts in Prythian. Your parents had warned you. They encouraged you to pursue the bond on your chest, but begged you to go no further than Court Day if the bond demanded it. They made you promise to return, and that they would then seek a way to find your mate if he or she was beyond the Night Court. You should've heeded, of course you did. When you saw the cold, emotionless eyes of the high lord's face, you regretted every decision you had made.

Even though you knew it shouldn't have been that way, because you had never done anything wrong. You had never tried to harm someone. Maybe that made it harder. Wondering every night why. Why did you deserve to go through that? What evil was it that you were paying for?

There was something magical about wishing on a shooting star, but that magic wasn't guarded for you.

Azriel had been spending sleepless nights for weeks now, without explanation. Things were quiet in Velaris, even in the Court of Nightmares. But when he entered the darkness of his room at night, when he tried to close his eyes with his wings spread across the bed, a knot stirred in his chest. Tears would well up behind his eyes and a sadness would engulf him from head to toe. It was so overwhelming that there were few nights when Azriel could contain the feelings and despair of his shadows.

He tried not to let that deficiency interrupt his work, but it was difficult when his eyes would close at the table during breakfast, or in the middle of the room when Rhys talked about the weekly goals. Several times his friends would start asking questions, but it was easy for Azriel to say he had trouble sleeping because that was never an uncommon occurrence over the course of his long life.

It was once Rhys told him that he had told Madja about his problem and she had sent him some herbs that it all started to get weirder.

Yes, Azriel was able to fall asleep. But every night he had strange dreams. Dreams of a life that was not his own. Memories of someone else he didn't even know. Another woman's life, somewhere Azriel could barely remember when he woke up, with more people who must have been close to her, but not to him, who shared her day to day life, who celebrated together with her, who were happy. Azriel didn't wake up much better in the mornings than when he spent the whole night without sleep.

Now he not only had to deal with the heaviness of lack of sleep, but with the questions. He could never think they were random dreams because he heard the same laughter every time, the same voice, the same place. He felt the same tranquility before waking up.

Azriel believed Madja would be his source of answers then.

“Your mate is looking for you,” the old woman answered him, one sunny day in Velaris when he chased her through her tent hoping she would answer his one question. That stopped him abruptly on his feet, his body from the abdomen upward leaning forward a bit from the suddenness of the movement.

“Mate?”

Madja barely hissed in response, a sound of affirmation that would haunt Azriel for several days afterward.

“How is that possible?”

“What?”

Madja was turning her back to him, her small body hunched over as she inspected the medicinal plants she kept for sale. Azriel watched them along with her, his mind moving through the threads of thoughts, between every memory of his dreams and every memory…of her.

“How can she do that?”

Azriel heard Madja sigh and the sound of metal followed as she dropped the gray watering can she had kept for years into place. Azriel could still remember the first time it had been seen, shiny and pompous in the Velaris sunlight. Madja's brown eyes roamed over his face and Azriel hadn't felt this way since the time when Rhys's mom had looked at him with loving motherly eyes.

“Don't ask me how the bond works, Shadowsinger. The Cauldron knows how it does things.”

Azriel could sleep less after that. Madja had left him with more questions than answers. And, on that note, Azriel began to fly over Velaris more often. For some reason, he felt she was close. The bond hadn't snapped into place yet, but he knew that the time was near when that would happen. He didn't even know if it had snapped for her yet, all he knew was that he had a mate over there, too far away from him, and too scared for him to stand idly by.

Eventually, Azriel had to talk to Rhysand. Rhys, his high lord, his best friend, his brother. Probably the only person in the Inner Circle who could fully understand how he felt at those moments. Because Azriel felt he was going to lose his mind if he didn't find his mate and end whatever suffering she was going through. The uncertainty was eating him alive and the hours of hopelessness and fear that were going on inside him, around that emptiness in his chest, did not ease things at all. If he felt this way from the comfort of his home, he didn't want to imagine what she was going through.

Rhysand agreed to allow him more outings to enlarge the perimeter of his search, but the passing days proved his effort fruitless.

“Everything okay, brother?”

Cassian had met his mate. Nesta, Feyre's sister. Azriel was very happy for him, very happy that his brothers had found their life mates and that he could realize the good they brought into their lives. But there was a huge shadow that haunted him, beyond the darkness he carried with him, and it had much to do with the guilt of not being able to find and deliver his mate from suffering. He no longer knew how much time had passed. His shadows stirred restlessly every day, with every memory, with every gale.

Azriel sighed when he felt Cassian's hand on his left shoulder, as they both stood watching Velaris from the top of a mountain.

“I don't know what to do anymore, Cassian,” Azriel let out, his shoulders slumping under the pressure and stress.

He usually didn't talk about the subject of his mate with his brothers, not as often as someone would think to be so close. It was something Azriel held close to his heart and wanted to resolve on his own, but so many failures were beginning to weigh him down.

Cassian patted his shoulder and then gave it a squeeze, trying to silently comfort him, though he knew that would do little to soothe the clamor in his soul. Because, though the bond hadn't snapped for Azriel, he could well believe that he had had it tugging at his chest in an unfamiliar direction for months now. Even if he didn't feel the bond, the mere acknowledgement of its existence was agony, especially when it didn't help him find his mate.

Cassian sighed beside him, letting a few seconds pass in silence before speaking again, his gaze fixed on Velaris' expanse and his heart shrinking at the visible suffering on his brother's face.

“Rhysand is traveling to the camp, will you accompany us?”

Azriel lately had little desire for anything other than touring Velaris and the surrounding area of the Court of Nightmares looking for his mate, but this time he decided to accept. For some reason, Azriel decided to accompany them.

The Night had been feuding with the Summer for a couple of years. Tarquin and Rhysand… were not on the best of terms. The last time Feyre had traveled to the Summer, pregnant with Nyx, Tarquin and his army had held her captive because of a misunderstanding in the information they had obtained from the Spring Court and the Mortal Lands. Rhysand almost destroyed the entire Summer Court with his bare hands if not for Cassian and Azriel, who were able to broker a deal between the two as mediators. It was a very tense time at the beginning.

Mind you, Rhysand did not leave without letting Tarquin know that it would be years before they would return to the same trade, diplomatic and friendly relations as before, if they could ever speak of forgiveness. Azriel remembered how the only person from the Night Court who could cross Tarquin's lands, for a time, was Mor. They were all warned and the meetings of the high lords were suspended, at least with respect to attendance.

For that reason, Rhysand became extremely wary of anyone connected with the Summer Court and for him, being the high lord, it was not too much work to know who wandered near his lands. They had already captured a handful of Summer Court spies in recent years and held them captive in camp with the Ilyrian soldiers.

Of course, the Night Court was much more careful with their spying, having Shadowsinger himself on their side. Azriel had visited the Summer Court a couple of times by stealth, handing Rhysand reports and any strategic breakthroughs he could decipher.

There was one, however, that they could not foresee. Someone Azriel never knew was coming out of the Summer Court. It had been a couple of years since then and it seemed the Ilyrians had been unable to break the spy's stone will.

“Are you going all the way to the mountain?” Rhysand had stopped in front of Azriel as soon as his feet touched the grassy ground, a few feet from the entrance to the camp. His eyes flicked briefly to the bustle behind his high lord, his shoulders tensing unconsciously as he took slow steps towards Rhysand with his hands in the pockets of his tunic and his wings tucked neatly behind his back. Cassian landed behind him, kicking up a layer of wet grass and mud that soiled his boots.

“Argh.”

“I think I'll be at a distance this time.”

Rhysand nodded, with no intention of convincing Azriel to accompany him to give the imprisoned spies of the Summer a death scare.

“I hope the screams are worth this mudslinging,” Cassian spoke up, moving closer to his two friends, forming a small circle. Rhysand barely gave him a glance before turning on his heels and beginning to make his way to the entrance of the camp, where some of the soldiers were clustered to see the high lord. “You're going to be in the bay?”

“Yes,” Azriel walked alongside Cassian, scowling at the entrance through which Rhysand had just crossed, the Ilyrian soldiers freezing in front of their high lord. “I'll watch from afar. Right now I don't have the stomach for anything.”

“I understand, brother,” Cassian squeezed his shoulder again amicably, sending him a tight-lipped look. Cassian was quite good with words, despite many labeling him as insensitive for being Ilyrian, but he knew Azriel well enough to know when he wanted to talk about something and when he preferred not to. “See you then.”

Cassian followed in Rhysand's footsteps, approaching in long strides, while Azriel paused watching his companions disappear into the distance.

Sighing, the knot in his chest tightened. It was so strange to have a void that could feel so many things. Azriel often wondered how it was possible that he still didn't feel the bond, when his emotions had expanded out of his head and there was no longer a feeling he didn't sense inside his bones.

Flapping his wings to take flight, Azriel set off towards the bay, close to the cliff where Rhysand planned to take the Summer Court spies. He was a few yards away, close enough to make out figures, but not too far away that he couldn't hear the screams.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, damp despite the early rising sun, his shadows began to stir around him, restless. They must've sensed his nervousness, the anxiety that ran through his chest like electric currents to his fingertips, causing him to spasm and break out in a cold sweat. Azriel could barely see them moving around him, separating from his body and stirring on the ground just a few centimeters before turning back.

At the top of the cliff he could already make out the figures of Rhysand and Cassian, walking menacingly towards the inmates, leaving them no choice but to keep walking backwards until they fell into the void, where Cassian would then land them, one by one. Azriel could hear them if he wanted to, but his mind and his shadows kept him a bit distracted.

He barely made out the first screams and the sound of Cassian's wings when his shadows began to whisper, much more restless.

Close.

Help.

Fear.

Help.

Azriel raised his head and his eyes stopped just short of Rhysand's figure in front of about three spies. At that moment, Azriel's shadows took off, moving at great speed across the grass and stones, with the Shadowsinger unable to do anything to stop them, though he tried. His confused gaze swept over the small figures on the cliff, with such speed that his head was beginning to ache, but he couldn't recognize anything.

He was about to fly in the direction his shadows had gone, when a strange, overwhelming sensation, somewhere between irrational fear and deep sadness, sent his back to the ground moving across his chest, as one of the figures slipped and fell into the void. Azriel felt all the air stolen from his lungs, opening his mouth to try to catch his breath, as those sensations coursed through his entire body and settled in his chest, taking strong root as if they belonged there. They were so overwhelming that they caused him physical pain. The ache he must've been feeling for months.

The bond.

The few remaining shadows beside him whispered endlessly.

Help.

Azriel raised his head, breathing hard. He felt his chest split open, as if with great force they were breaking his sternum to pull out his heart. It was such an overwhelming and painful sensation that, but for his strong will, he would surely have lost consciousness.

Help.

Mate.

Azriel thought afterwards that he had never moved so fast or with such force as that moment, when he realized what was happening. The adrenaline that coursed through his body, even feeling electric currents run through him from head to toe from the precise moment he felt the bond, didn't allow him to think too much about how the air hurt his eyes because he already knew exactly where he had to go. He had spent so much time flying without direction, walking the wrong paths and searching in empty places. At that moment, when he had a reason and a direction, Azriel couldn't think of anything else. He didn't want to.

He could only look at the figure falling off the cliff from the moment he raised his head. He could only head blindly towards it. The overwhelming fear that threw him backwards was the fear she felt as under her feet she felt the void, her hands moving forward trying to hold on to something that would allow her to live.

Azriel felt like he was about to die with her.

He met Cassian halfway from afar, who seemed to be about to fly in her direction to catch her when he ran into his friend, but Azriel moved too quickly and with anticipation without losing sight of his mate. The chill that ran through his body could've paralyzed him with fear, but how could he stand by and do nothing when his mate was falling to her undisputed death.

He thought he heard Rhysand's scream. Surely it was so, but in his mind there hovered only the thought that he must reach her, he must get there in time. Her hands were outstretched and Azriel stretched out his hands, hoping that would help him move faster.

Mind blank, Azriel felt like he had just pulled his head out of the water, his chest opening in an unfamiliar thrill as his body felt the warmth of his mate's body crashing against him and his arms wrapped around her in a promise to never let go again. His wings wrapped around her immediately after his arms, impacting a few seconds later against the muddy ground.

He was too close to not catch her. The thought left him breathless.

For a moment, he only heard his and her labored breathing, with the whistling of the wind through the trees and the movement of the water of a stream a few feet away. For a moment, Azriel went completely blank. Whether he was there or dreaming, he didn't know.

His hands clamped tightly around her arms, encircling her entire back, feeling the reality of what had happened sink in on him bit by bit. Fear gripped him once more then, considering that there was a chance he hadn't been there to stop that. To prevent it.

He didn't want to move. Still adrenaline coursed through his body and he was so alert that he could clearly hear the voices of his friends in the distance. Seconds later, when he heard their wings, he finally moved.

Azriel met your eyes and with that look alone he knew you had felt the bond as well.

“I'm sorry,” was all Azriel could think of, his eyes crystallizing, voice breaking. “I'm so sorry.”

You were transfixed. Azriel felt you looking at him with fear and that motivated him to move away from your body, but you gripped his arms tightly to hold him in place.

Azriel felt a great heaviness in his chest as he examined your face and what he saw did not please him at all. Guilt swelled on his shoulders, a great weight that ascended with each passing second and he could hardly imagine all that you had had to go through in that camp. You were right under his nose and he couldn't find you. What kind of a partner was he to let all that happen?

When he heard the footsteps of his friends, his shoulders tensed. But it didn't go unnoticed the way you also became aware of their presence and let go of his arms, rushing to hug yourself as you moved to sit behind Azriel. scared. Still breathing rapidly, Azriel sent a warning look. Cassian and Rhysand stopped a short distance away, noticing the obvious hostility emanating from their friend's body, but Rhysand just stopped for a second.

“Azriel, what the fuck?”

Rhysand was so angry that he seemed to have a little red tinge over his face. Good, he was angry, maybe then Azriel wouldn't feel so bad about breaking his face.

“Rhys,” Cassian frowned, quickly picking up on the tense and hostile atmosphere around him. He grabbed the arm of his high lord, who jerked angrily and turned his gaze back to the Shadowsinger.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you aware of what you just fucking did?”

“Rhysand,” Cassian stopped his high lord, raising his voice and holding his arm tightly this time.

Rhysand turned to look at him with a frown and it seemed that, through his mind, Cassian spoke to him. The next time Rhysand looked back at him, his expression was unclenching, but Azriel stood stone-faced in front of you, his hands clasped at his sides and ready to face anything.

“No way,” was all Rhysand muttered, moving to run his hands through his hair.

Azriel felt one of your hands on his back, his senses splitting in half to try and attend to you as he kept an eye on his brothers on the other side. He moved his head to look at you, your frightened expression trying to hide you from Cassian's curious eyes.

“Is this real?”

Azriel felt his heart crumple. Tears welled behind his eyes and burning hurted the back of his throat. He wanted to say so many things, apologize for a million other things, but in that moment he only responded, moving to squeeze your hand:

“It's real.”

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel x you #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #rhysand #cassian #the cliff

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libraincarnate · 10 days

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astrology notes: 16 ☁️

quick note: i'm absolutely not an astrologer. these are just a collection of some observations, thoughts, theories, and personal experiences based on astrology. above all this is just for fun. lastly, keep in mind that i’m not reading your birth chart and i know nothing about you. these are just some possibilities that may or may not apply to you. enjoy!

🐚 neptune–venus aspects: you probably get compliments on your appearance a lot. you may have been told that you look a model or a celebrity. there's some sort of star quality to you.

if your neptune is square/opposite your venus, you might struggle to see the same beauty that others see in you. it’s not that you think you’re ugly but you might not think you’re as attractive to the extent that others do, so it makes you wonder what other people are seeing. you might think they’re lying or exaggerating. compliments could also be hard for you to accept. the attention you get can make you a little uncomfortable.

🐚 i used to think that virgo venuses were too nonchalant when it comes to love but this placement will give you that real princess or prince treatment that goes beyond money and materialistic items - that kind of princess/prince treatment may apply more to taurus and sag, but with virgo they give the kind of treatment that considers their partner’s entire well-being and not just their monetary needs and desires. they really care about their partners and want to put their life at ease, they truly care if you ate and aren’t just asking that just to ask. if you haven’t eaten they won’t just say, “oh, damn” or “oh no, eat something :/” but they’re the type to create time to make you something or buy you something to eat and even bring it to you. if they can make your life less stressful in any way, they’ll try to do that. if you’re sick, they’ll take on some of your responsibilities like tidying up your house for you since you aren’t able to do so. there can be times where they won’t even let you lift a finger. the types to say, “i’ll take care of that for you” even if you can do it yourself.

they’re reliable so if they say they’ll do something, you can expect them to do it. but this placement may often find themselves in a position where they’re always being the care taker so they want someone who takes care of them too. these individuals are often anxious and may be quite paranoid when it comes to romantic relationships so they desire someone who will put their mind and life at ease. they can be picky and difficult to impress because of their high standards and because they’re quick to get the ick, but once they love you they’ll really go above and beyond.

🐚 sun opposite rising: your looks may not match your personality and you might even think so yourself. for example, you might look innocent or younger than you are, but really, you’re quite mature and there’s a dark, wild, or unexpected side of you. your looks are deceiving.

🐚 capricorn rising/in the 1st house: you are someone who had ambition and big plans from a young age. money could be a big part of your identity. the ones making “money moves” fr. you could have a lot of work experience. you’ve been working/touching money since your pre-teen or teenage years.

if your cap rising aspects your mercury then subjects related to money/finance could be something that is always on your mind and it frequently comes up in your conversations as well.

or if it aspects your lilith, then you may be the type to get money by any means necessary, meaning you might be willing to do illegal/immoral things to obtain it. but in your mind, you probably think you have a good reason to do it. something made it worth the risk because capricorns are too rational, prudent, and judicious to just do anything without good reason.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𓇼 ˖°

🐚 lilith in pisces: might deal w/ sleep related issues such as insomnia, sleep apnea, sleepwalking, etc.

🐚 sun conjunct mercury (natal): your father may be someone you hold in high regard and therefore someone you speak highly of most of the time. it’s possible that you tend to reflect on the memories you share with him, your similarities/differences, and the influence he has had in your life.

🐚 jupiter in the 7th house: you bring abundance into the relationships you have. this can be a friendship, business partnership, romantic relationship, etc. your loved ones are lucky to have you in their life. you’re generous and you’re the type to spoil & splurge on those closest to you. you bring encouragement and goodness into the lives of others, even if you haven’t known them for long. you’re a blessing. you could have qualities that make you the perfect wife/husband & you could also be blessed with your perfect spouse in return. unless you’re a jerk, you may be someone that people regret losing, especially your ex.

🐚 aquarius: reminds me of The Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37) in a way, the ones to step up and help a stranger. they have this innate desire to help people, to help the world, even if it’s done in a small way or even if nobody else sees it.

isn’t it ironic how the sign that’s about humanity and togetherness is the one that feels like an outcast or has been ostracized from some group in some way? whether it be by their family (aquarius in the 4th house), friends (11th house), classmates (3rd house), or co-workers (6th house).

as an air sign, they can talk for hours. but out of the 3 air signs, aquarius is the most socially selective. this can be one of the reasons why they’re often described as cold and distant.

they may not be all sunshine & rainbows but they’re actually kind-hearted individuals. it’s just that they may not always express it in the most warm, affectionate, lovey-dovey way. i wouldn’t describe them as the most emotional individuals but they are still empathetic and they dislike inhumane behavior.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𓇼 ˖°

🐚 sag experiences life to fullest by going everywhere, seeing everything, learning about it all in the process and then reflecting on what they’ve seen & learned.

taurus experiences life to the fullest by really being present in their physical body. they’ll take in the different sounds of a song and dance to the beat, they'll distinguish the different notes or aromas of a particular smell and then buy similar scents to fill their home with it or to wear as perfume/cologne. when eating, they'll really taste food and explore the different flavors/ingredients, then maybe they’ll try to cook it for themselves. they’re in tune with their senses and therefore the world around them. it’s such a beautiful way to experience life, but this can also mean that they are quite sensitive to their environments. with that being said they may feel a strong connection to nature/the earth.

🐚 cancer in the 10th house: may be perceived as compassionate & loyal, shy, or a sweetheart by the general public. could be sensitive about their reputation and any criticism they receive. they spend time nurturing their career, and their career may even relate to nurturing children, caretaking, or healing. they rely on their intuition or heart to carve out their path and navigate their career. they’re good listeners and as a cardinal sign they also possess that leadership quality. the types to provide their close friends and family with opportunities to help them reach their own success. a desire to take care of their family and their needs once they make it. people within the same industry as them may see them as a motherly mentor.

🐚 scorpio in the 2nd house: they can have deep and/or raspy voices. it’s music to my ears, but especially if it’s a woman with this placement. that’s because women typically have higher pitched voices, and so naturally, these women stand out when they speak. if they can sing well, they can probably reach deeper notes than most women typically can. but in the same breath, it may be hard for them to reach high notes. this applies to both the natal chart & the mercury persona chart.

🐚 saturn rules the teeth and so people with saturn in retrograde in the 1st house, or saturn opposite/square pluto, lilith, mars or the ascendant may have a chipped tooth due to a certain event such as getting hit in the mouth or biting on something hard. or they may have a gap between their front teeth, the type you inherit genetically or from your parents. this doesn’t mean they have ugly teeth or an ugly smile. however, whether they feel like they have an ugly smile or not, they may have a tendency to smile without showing their teeth or they cover their mouth when smiling/laughing in attempt to hide their teeth. either way, there’s a sense of self-consciousness here.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𓇼 ˖°

🐚 4th house synastry: potential for a strong/solid foundation, they're your comfort place, having a strong desire to live together, moving in together can make the relationship feel more satisfying, fulfilling, or complete. you miss them when they’re not home/around, hate having to say goodbye, long distance could make you both feel miserable or like something is missing. possible separation anxiety. emotional vulnerability, healing, and attachment. taking care of each other. wanting to start a family. this house also creates an environment for a deep connection just like the other houses ruled by water signs.

🐚 if i could communicate with animals i would tell pets to choose owners who have scorpio in the 6th house. these people will loveee their pets to death. their pets would probably be obsessed with them (it would be mutual though) because of the amount of love and attention they would receive from their owners. there’s definitely a strong emotional attachment. but in general, having a water sign in the 6th house indicates a strong emotional connection or bond with pets/animals.

air signs in the 6th house would talk to their pets a lot and they’d be besties lol, they obviously don't speak the same language but they'd understand each other nonetheless. possible animal whisperers here.

earth signs in the 6th house would give their pets the best of the best but i also think this dynamic would bring a mutually grounding effect that could be therapeutic, bringing a sense of calm and peace to the pet and the owner’s life.

fire signs in the 6th house would spoil their pets and they’d have a lot fun doing things together like taking them outdoors and going on adventures.

🐚 1st house ruler in the 2nd house: the themes of the 1st house includes one’s appearance and the themes of the 2nd house includes one’s physical body and beauty, being that is ruled by venus. while this still applies to libra because it is also ruled by venus and it has the reputation of being beautiful and having physical symmetry, this doesn’t apply to the 7th house, which libra rules, because that house is more related to romance and relationships.

so, since the physical body is part of one’s appearance, if your 1st house is ruled by the 2nd house, not only can this show another layer of your appearance but it can also mean you have a very attractive appearance and body. bonus points if taurus is in the 2nd house since that is the house it rules and it is also ruled by venus.

with that being said, even if you don’t have a libra rising or libra in the 1st house, if it’s in your 2nd house and it rules your first house you may have libra physical traits like freckles or dimples. if aries or leo is in your 2nd house then you may have a lot of hair, red hair (naturally or dyed), or a pronounced face/head.

the planets in your 2nd house may also have an impact, so if you have mercury there your body may be quite slim. having venus in the 2nd house is also a bonus because again, beauty. jupiter too since it represents blessings so you may be blessed with great looks and this may indicate a thicker or curvier body type as well. i’d also add asteroid aphrodite (1388) as well, being that it represents attraction, & beauty, but planets will have a greater influence.

lastly, people may like the way you dress and think you have a good sense of style.

^ even if the house that rules your 1st house doesn’t relate to one’s appearance or body, it can still have an influence on your presence. for example, if your 8th house rules your 1st house you probably have sex appeal without even trying to be sexy, people may think you’re secretive, and you might look and feel best when you’re wearing dark colored clothing. but remember, signs matter and can reinforce this or bring out the opposite.

🐚 asteroid juno (3) at a gemini degree (3°, 15°, 27°): can indicate a marriage filled with laughter, lots of conversation, and possibly good communication between you & your spouse, or these are things you desire or must have in a committed romantic partnership.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𓇼 ˖°

🐚 pluto represents things that are hidden. those with pluto in the 1st house may hide or gatekeep their personality or their true self, so many people don’t know the real them. they’re naturally mysterious with deep layers.

in the 6th house they may hide any health issues they have or how hard their life may be on a daily basis, the types to feel like they’re on the verge of death but no one would know.

in the 3rd house they may not be quick to reveal their thoughts or what’s on their mind, they try to think before they speak. reminds me of the person who chooses to sit in the back of the class and doesn’t participate much, but they have profound ideas and also a dark mind. their siblings may also feel like they don’t know them very well even if they grew up together and were raised in the same home. furthermore, your sibling’s friends may be surprised to learn that they have a sister/brother (the person with pluto in the 3rd house), because they’ve never seen or heard of them.

🐚 lilith represents the things we reject. in the 1st house, lilith may reject parts of themselves because they find those parts difficult to accept, they might create a new version of themselves but it’s not really authentic since they’re rejecting their true self. they may reject their personal boundaries and can potentially be a push over or they care too much about what others think. this may result in a lack of self-esteem and confidence. they could reject their appearance and do things to constantly change how they look whether that be dyeing their hair, dressing up in ways that are drastically different, or possibly getting cosmetic surgery.

in the 10th house, lilith may reject commands from their superiors, their boss/supervisor may tell them to do something a certain way but they do it their own way, may have a tendency of disobeying their father or they were rejected by their father. they may reject leadership roles and prefer to work alone. they don’t take the “traditional” path to success and may choose a career that their father is against. they could also reject fame or attention from the general public even though that’s something they naturally attract.

in the 12th house they may reject their dreams, meaning that they think nothing of them, they’re “just dreams” and have no deeper meaning. they might reject the darker parts of themselves and prefer to focus on the parts that aren’t so dark and heavy. because of this there could be painful experiences that they haven’t healed from because they refuse to pay any attention to them. if they are spiritual, then they may have surface level knowledge and aren’t interested in delving into deeper waters. or they could disregard or hate the reality of life on this planet and so they have a tendency of fantasizing about death, the end of the world, or a different/better world. also, they may not be the most generous or charitable people.

🐚 empty houses: some people might think that the empty houses in their chart are insignificant but they still have relevance in your life because a there’s still a sign that falls into that house and that empty house also has a house ruler. for example, if you have an empty 3rd house with leo or sag there, you may still be one of the popular kids in school even if you have no planets in that house.

and let’s say your 3rd house is ruled by the 7th house (meaning your sun or jupiter is in the 7th house), your popularity may stem from your relationships. you may be known because you’ve dated the popular boy/girl at school or you both are popular making you the popular couple at school. perhaps you’ve had several relationships throughout your school years and maybe you’re that person who is always in a relationship which could create some gossip whether it be for good or bad. or maybe you have a lot of people pursuing you and wanting to date you, perhaps you have multiple people wanting to take you to prom or you might be a sophomore and yet you end up going to prom with a senior.

so, empty houses will still play a role in your life, but it will most likely be less active or less prominent compared to the houses that do have planets.

🐚 the 5th house: this is definitely one of my favorite houses. people with multiple placements in the 5th house typically have so much personality. they’re so fun, a joy to be around, truly a burst of sunshine with vibrant energy and they’re also really talented. definitely the life of the party, bringing everyone together with excitement and entertainment. the type to start dancing with or talking to a stranger or that person standing in the corner, making them feel both welcomed and included. they also have this youthful quality to them, which may be one of the reasons why children love them or get along with them well.

if you read this until the end i hope you enjoyed it & thank you so much for reading. ♥︎♥︎♥︎, those hearts are for you.

#astrology #astro notes #astrology notes #astro observations #astrology observations #libraincarnate

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