#you: write every fucking day or ur not a writer

[tayytayy12]

I hate it here (a lot less when I’m with you) | OP81 x Reader

Summary - Reader just got out of a mildly toxic relationship and released a song about what her coping mechanism was during that time, but when her new relationship gets leaked by the paparazzi, she decides to show off her new favourite person.

Warnings | Mentions of a past toxic relationship/ breakup, swearing

FaceClaim | Gracie Abrams

Requested | Yes - No

Type | SMAU

Yourusername

Liked by | AaronDessner, PheobeBridgers and 2,987,425 others

Tagged | @/AaronDessner

Yourusername | Long Pond Studios has always been a place where I’ve let my emotions and feelings guide my songwriting completely, every song that I’ve written and recorded in this place has been a complete raw reflection of my feelings, and I’m forever grateful that I can trust you enough to share them all with you without the slightest moment of hesitation. That’s why, I’m surprise releasing my brand new song, ‘I hate it here’ now. This song is about a method I’ve used to cope for the past few years of my life when I wasn’t in the best situation, and I hope that it will help any of you who are or were in the same situation I was. This song was made with my soulmate of a collaborator, chosen friend, found family of mine, Aaron and were so incredibly proud of it and we can’t wait for you to hear it. Sorry for being away for so long, I love you 🤍

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User1 - OMFG SHES ALIVE !!!

User2 - ONLY TOOK FIVE MONTHS TO CONFIRM YOU’RE ALIVE AND BREATHING

AaronDessner - My favourite one together so far 🤍

Yourusername - Love you forever 🤍

User3 - WTFDYM ‘I HATE IT HERE’ EXPLAIN?

User4 - GO LISTEN TO IT ITS SOOOOOOOOOO GOOD

User5 - A SURPRISE DROP? WE’RE SPOILED

User6 - When Aarons a co-writer AND the producer, you know for a fact the song will change your life (and make the therapy bill triple)

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User7 - Girl don’t apologise

User8 - FR like she gets cheated on, takes a brake and then apologises to us 😭 like girl it’s okay

JackAntanoff - *Alexa play Traitor by Olivia Rodrigo*

Yourusername- Your times coming synth man 🤫 LOVE YOU STILL

User9 - WDYM HIS TIME IS COMING YOU CRYPTIC WOMAN

User10 - “I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind.” That’s all I have to say.

User11 - Y/n could write Romeo and Juliet but Shakespeare couldn’t write I hate it here

User11 - “I place you need a key to get to, the only one is mine” girly I hope someone makes you want to make a copy one day

Yourusername - God I love you lmao

User11 - OMFG Y/n loves me I can die happy

User12 - “tell me something awful, like you are a poet.” BC HE ALWAYS PAINTED HER BLUE SKYS THE DARKEST GREY, RUINING HER DAY BY TELLING HER AWFUL SHIT LIKE HES A TORTURED POET !!!!!! (I knew Coney Island wasn’t fictional you fucking delusional people, no one in a happy relationship writes that shit 💕💕💕)

User13 - “This man made me feel worthless.” Y/EX/N ISTG WHEN I FIND YOU. COUNT UR MINUTES

User14 - “I'm lonely but I'm good, I'm bitter but I swear I'm fine” bitch where did you find my diary

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Yourusername

Liked by, SabrinaCarpenter, OscarPiastri and 2,191,910 others

Tagged | @/SabrinaCarpenter

Yourusername - I’m sorry who’s this woman debuting at no.1 on the billboard hot one hundred? My god it is me, I can’t believe this, I love you I love you I love you thank you so so much from the bottom of my heart, I mean it, I really do. MY GOD I LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU. (And my baby with her first top ten entry, I love you Sabby, Go stream espresso, it is that sweet 🤍💕) OKAY ONE LAST THANK YOU. 💕🤍💕🤍💕

Okay I lied but being among names like Beyoncé, Ariana Grande, SZA and Kendrick Lamar is one of the biggest honours ever, I’m huge fans of them all and to be in the same space as them is an honour no words can express, I love you all, the most caring sweet fans on the whole planet 💕💕💕💕

(And yes, it was a reference to a physical key, this is it)

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User14 - We made the right one famous guys

User15 - I’m actually crying, when did she stop being our little secret

SabrinaCarpenter - My biggest fan 🩷

Yourusername - Your biggest fan 🩷

User16 - Oscar in the likes for what?

User17 - Who?

User18 - Oscar Piastri, he’s a 23 yr old f1 driver

User19 - What is vroom vroom boy doing here

AaronDessner - Truly blessed to work with you

Yourusername - I’m the blessed one don’t even

User20 - Only y/n could send a five minute long, slow, alt pop song with a main piano background, basically a depressing lullaby bop, to number one above all these TikTok songs

User21 - She’s actually adorable

OscarPiastri - Been on repeat!

Liked by author

User22 - UM HELLO WHAT ARE U DOING HERE LITTLE ORANGE MAN?

User23 - This is all bc of me btw

Celebrity.updates

Liked by, user24, and 82,828 others

Tagged | @/Yourusername @/OscarPiastri

Celebrity.updates - NEW COUPLE!!! Fast upcoming pop star, Y/n Y/l/n (21) seen out late at night on the streets of London with Formula one driver, Oscar Piastri (23), according to the source of these pictures the two were laughing and running around the streets together, when Oscar caught up to her and hugged her to him and kissed her. Rumours say that Y/n met Piastri through her ex partner who’s an engineer for f1 team Alpine, the pair seem to be quite smitten and loving with each other. What’s your thoughts on this?

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User25 - WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN

User26 - Posting these photos is bad enough, but tagging them in it is crazy

User28 - Neither of them have even been hinting at a relationship at all, they clearly didn’t want anyone to know yet

User29 - Can’t these sickos just let them live, they’re people too

User30 - Whoever took these is messed up

User31 - They do look rlly happy together though

User32 - The fact that her ex is an alpine engineer makes this situation so much more funny and interesting

SabrinaCarpenter - You’re actually disgusting

User33 - TELL THEM SAB

User34 - The fact that she’s not even wrong

User35 - the fact that she defends Y/n with no hesitation

User36 - The friendship we all need in our lives

Yourusername

Liked by, OscarPiastri, SabrinaCarpenter and 2,928,198 others

Tagged | @/OscarPiastri

Yourusername - I hate it here a lot less when I’m with you 🤍 my favourite polite cat xxxx

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LandoNorris- Finally. The pair of you at the paddock hiding in MY divers room bc you were scared someone would see you in Oscar’s. Sigh.

Yourusername - You love me

User37 - OH MY GOD

User38 - I need to know the bears name

OscarPiastri- She named him Gerald

Yourusername - Don’t sound so disgusted, that’s our son

OscarPiastri - Sorry baby

User39 - Hysterical

OscarPiastri - My favourite smiling dog 🤍

Yourusername- Excuse me did you just call me a bitch

OscarPiastri- NO I DIDNT MEAN IT LIKE THAT

User40 - The dynamic is already everything to me

User41 - Even his GF knows he’s a polite cat

Yourusername - He so is (he’s in denial)

User42 -“ I hate it here a lot less with you” Shut the fuck up

OscarPiastri

Liked by, Yourusername, LoganSargeant and 1,872,001 others

Tagged | @/Yourusername

OscarPiastri - She made me a copy 🗝️🤍

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User43 - Someone sedate me

User44 - SHE. MADE. HIM. A. COPY.

User45 - WTFFFTTFTFTD

User46 - Literally the ultimate Oscar on Alpine revenge

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Yourusername - I don’t need my secret gardens, or my lunar valleys anymore, because I have you 🤍

OscarPiastri- My favourite and only girl 🤍

User47 - I’m taking a nap on the highway

///////

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #op81 x reader #op81 imagine #op81 fluff #op81 fic #op81 x you #op81 angst #op81 smau #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 x you #f1 x female driver #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris x oc #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #ln4 one shot #ln4 x y/n #ln4 fluff

[itstimeforstarwars]

I'm getting to a point in writing where I want to write more about my ocs than about the canon characters but at the same time it feels like going to middle school art club and being like "this is trilly, they're nonbinary and homeless in the fantasy 1940s and they're traveling with their partner whose name is Starlight and she was an orphan saved by one background character from one book and they're traveling to find Trilly's uncle and cousin who went missing in the war and I think they're really cool so please care about them!"

#chit chat #obviously trilly is not a character for this fandom but i do often feel the same way about like. elmga. or neeli. #or bones lmao #everyone shut the fuck up about obi wan im gonna tell you about this miracle clone medic with lots of anxiety #ughhhh #writing about your ocs is cool and awesome and not embarrassing but alsoooo i was on ffnet in 2013 #when having an oc that was even just a girl was prime mary sue flame bait #that didn't stop me from doing it but even after a decade im still waiting for people to be like 'stop talking about ur cringe ass ocs #and get back to the actual story' #ugh ugh ugh #it's so embarrassing to be a writer y'all #im out here every fuckin day baring my soul through the lens of fantasy just for fun #saying things like 'i wish that when i was in pain it mattered to others' #or 'the enormity of choices overwhelms me so i am going to write this story over and over again and maybe it will be different this time' #but it will not #they have beem dead since the beginning #but we sing it anyway #and i say this all mostly by putting obi wan in Situations but sometimes i wanna talk about my ocs too #what if there was an awesome doctor. and they cared about what was wrong with you. #isn't that a nice fantasy? it's one of my favorites.

[thatdeadaquarius]

About your language brainrot. I see your "Reader's writing can't match tyvat's long and flowery writing" and bring you "Tyvat isn't used to books over 50 pages long so a short story to the Reader is a whole dictionary to tyvat readers".

Seriously, have you seen how thin the books are? They don't wrote novels, they write short chapters formatted in the way really old stories are. As in, summarizing all the events down into one smooth story then adding a few quotes. Fanfiction writers are insane. They will willingly sit down and write hundreds of words at a time. To them, a proper modern day story of maybe, oh 10k words or so, would probably be like the Oddessy itself.

If we were to combine the two headcanons. It would end up as many historians being intimidated by this insanely long written scripture in the language of the forgotten.

I'm going to take this a step further and say that if the creator asked some people to proofread their things, it would establish a hiarchy of who is able to actually finish the book the creator read and who isn't.

NOW THIS, THIS IS MY FUCKING JAMMMM

I'm so sorry this is so old!! u probably all know this by this point that I've really slowed down as the year has gone on, but I graduated university and then got my first job so its been pretty crazy!

Sun: Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: dash of all the book/nerds of Genshin, heavy on Sumeru?

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Cussing, 16+ Mature Audiences, Spoliers for Sumeru Archon Quests/Scaramouche, & Trigger Warnings: mention of shipping/characters shipping themselves with you.

Comment if any missed, please.

☆

FULL STOP.

THE AKADEMIYA, FONTAINE RESEARCH INSTITUTE, HAVE BEEN WAITTTINNGGGG ON YOUR ASS LMAO

You fall from the fucking sky like a 5 star, or pop out of the Irminsul or whatever

and immediately are mobbed by scholars. LMAO jkjk (not really, bc that's what it’d feel like)

can you even imagine the dread older stories(”the classics” to them), that was instilled in the poor students around Teyvat??

id like to think ur works are the most preserved over the thousands of years of Teyvat archeologists excavating them, in comparison to other authors (teyvat just likes you more, suck it William Shakespeare)

also, bc I cant resist language differences/world building I'm sorryyyy 😭 😭

the vocab of Genshin lang vs. ours, has significantly less vocabulary like their actual dictionary is 1/3 the size of ours type of energy

(Omfg all ur fanfics being considered like insanely long realistic romantic classics or tragedies like Jane Austen-level, and only the richest and biggest play companies put on plays about ur stories bc the script goes on for hours)

(ur plays only get put on for rlly big events bc of this, like Lantern Rite or like a Summer/Winter festival/your birthday, which is, yes, an international holiday)

dude the sheer power move of anything you’ve written being essentially “Journey of the West” to them, like Damnnn.

endless like adaptations, plays, Teyvat-short stories condensing it, (THEIR OWN FANFICTION ABOUT UR STORIES)

the power is, in fact, going to your head every time another scholar both deflates at how long ur stuff is, but also lights up bc they get to read it

speaking of scholars… you know who snatched you up first. you know. you don’t even need to read the next line.

Alhaitham.

sneaky bastard he is, absolutely manipulated, mansplained (and manwhored bc he knows he’s handsome, cheeky little shit) his way into getting you to sit down with him and interview you about both translating other classics, your own, giving your own analysis of others works and ur own, and picking ur brain apart of how/why you wrote urs, etc. its fucking endless,

Kaveh had to come rescue you bc u were starving to death after getting stuck with the Haravatat scholar in his office for nearly 7 hours of interrogation discussion about literature

and Alhaitham wasn't even nearly done, he’d informed you as you left that he already had another appointment for later conversation scheduled (how?? you don't even know ur own schedule??? you have a schedule???) and was looking forward to more of your “creative and enlightening input” :)))

(you’re never going to escape him, not even Nahida herself can save you from his stubborn ass)

On another note, Xingqiu is quaking when you agree to autograph his copy of your stories (of which he has all hard covers of the first edition translations)

Zhongli/Rex Lapis is known for having a near-lifelong passion for searching for your works specifically, and learning how to translate them better into Teyvatian vernacular

like the same way he can absolutely speak on Rex Lapis facts/rocks/adepti info, is the same confidence he speaks about knowing ur work lol

(yes he did also ask for several autographs and another sit-down talk about the works, tho a lot more sneaky then Alhaitham bc he just casually gets u guys into it during dinner)

Barbatos/Venti has written some of the most famous songs based on your stuff, he has his favorites too,

but he always claims the best songs are any that have been written in the story, like either when a character sings something, or there are like quotes from songs ur fanfics are based on lol

(he also demanded to hear what they actually sound like from you, yes, you have to sing them for him lol)

Venti also can surprisingly drunkenly ramble the entirety of at least one of ur stories, like, word for word lmao

(Diluc gave in and did give him a drink on the house for that one, just once, Venti doesn’t remember it lol)

(I forgot to mention, u guys still speak the same language, just like, different versions of it)

ur works being one of the few things all the Archons can freely talk about with each other, like it’s neutral ground bc they’re all fangirling about it lmao

Furina and Neuvillette have had like,, fierce debates over the decades about character dynamics and the general drama of ur stories, they’ve gotten into it enough they’ve stopped talking to each other for a couple days a few times lol

Albedo, Sucrose, Kokomi, Yae Miko, Ei, Raiden, have read every single work they’re gotten their hands on in Teyvat (it took them like a literal year or longer)

Albedo drew you fanart for every single story, bc he’s hyperfixated on everything related to you ngl,

Kokomi had commissioned smaller pocket versions of ur works (which later got popular thanks to Yae Miko) both the OG and the Teyvat shortened versions

THE HARBINGERS ARE THE MOST DOWN BAD LMAO

Childe has literally tried to recreate battle scenes from ur works lmao

and gets especially riled up about fighting someone who resembles any characters from them (esp villains, what a cutie)

You cannot fathom the amount of research throughout Teyvat that has been secretly or indirectly funded by Pantalone/Tsaritsa

from the experts to analyze them, to funding play companies to act them out, to actually excavating places to get more of ur stuff unearthed

(the Harbingers absolutely are the first group of people that got to read several of ur stories first bc of this, like the world’s most exclusive secret book club lol)

Scaramouche used to clown on Childe all the time about how he was too impatient to even “sit down and read the King’s classics”, and he was downright insufferable when he found out about Tartaglia’s habit of recreating battle scenes/that being what motivated him to fight sometimes lol

that being said, Wanderer surprisingly never forgot ur stories.

Even when his memories were wiped for a bit, he found comfort in these fantastical epics still sticking around, even when his old names did not

(he mayyyy or mayyy nottt have secretly namedhimselfafteroneofthetragicprotagonistsherelatesto- )

oh btw, Nahida also found joy and comfort in ur stories when she was trapped, they also helped her literally grow as a person bc she had ur stories to help her sort of process the world/what life was like outside of her dreaming prison 🥺💔❤️‍🩹

◇

OMFG

ANYWAY FULL TONE SHIFT LMFAO-

the ABSOLUTE SPIRAL-RED-STRING-CONSPIRACY-THEORY-BOARD ENERGY IF THIS WAS A BLUNT LANGUAGE AU LMAOOOO

like specifically how Teyvatians like to give all the context ever thru their words, but older deities/beings like you just do simple phrases that can have deeper meanings (whereas teyvat just explains all the meanings behind their words)

STOP there’s like an official display at the Akademiya and Fontaine Institute of red string theory boards 😭😭 (look what you’ve done to themmm LMAO)

for like every story of urs, INCLUDING THE FANFICS STOP

IMAGINE THE SHIPPING WARS IF U EVER WROTE ONE THAT WASNT EXPLICIT OR LIKE ONE OF THE MAIN ROMANTIC INTERESTS HAD CHEMISTRY WITH OTHER CHARACTERS HAHAHAHAA

that's actually what Akademiya scholars argue about the most viciously, it’s like politics you can’t just bring up ships from ur stories casually in regular convos 💀

(poor Cyno has to deal with a shipping war once a year bc someone always makes the mistake of reading ur work for the first time (without being told to not talk to others abt ships lol) and it starts an all out brawl in the cafeteria every time LMAO)

Also yes.

Cyno is a fanboy.

(he has read Creator x Reader-insert fanfiction.)

(As have most of the characters mentioned, and those not lol)

…

(I'm gonna make a whole Creator x reader fanfic post one day i stg lmao)

☆

an iced coffee? for me?? :0

ok but real talk…

wtf do you guys wanna see for new years!!

i didn't do a inktober/october days thingy bc i felt too unprepared (and bc id wanted to post that 1000+ followers eldritch au for Halloween)

but now i kinda wanna, at least for a few days :o

ill post a poll in a minute, so check it out!! but still, please feel free to comment some ideas here! :)

Safe Travels Deafening Dreamer,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily

#this looked a lot longer on desktop #fuck it #anyway sorry if im slower again guys! #i got sick again :( #my voice was completely gone for days #im onyl just recovering #so finally felt decent enough to write more #check out my other posts for the poll btw! #genshin sagau #genshin impact #sagau #genshin isekai #genshin imagines #genshin impact sagau #aqua asks #genshin x reader #self aware genshin #genshin self aware #more like isekai heavily but this does rely on u understanding they could/have had ur stories for years in their world #so kinda #<3 u guys but DO NOT TAG AS YANDERE/DARK #bc its not <3 #gonna start putting that reminder in the tags

[moonrisecoeur]

IM BACK CUZ IM MENTALLY UNWELL OK. and yes you’re the best sub Leon writer 😏🥱 and yes I liked it, SITTING ON HIS FACE? 😍🥱

I’m so sorry for blasting ur req box but YOURE AN ACTUALLY GOOD SUB LEON WRITER SO can you blame me? concept: idk why but re4 Leon is so free use coded and so imagine he is on a mission with a new assigned partner but she’s an asshole to him (“fuck off man, I can do it myself, “I don’t need your help”, “you’re too nice and gonna be taken advantage of 😐”, etc. You get the gist) and his goofy ass just tryna be nice and helpful, cuz this is leon we are talking about. But the fun part ⁉️ they have cameras installed in the hideout they are saying at for security purposes. But ofc, Leon always tries to check on reader to make sure she’s ok - even if she’s an asshole to him. AND YK WHAT READER DOES 😭 she’s way too horny and just goes at it, girl got a masturbation problem on god. Every night. One night - wrong time and place - Leon opens his laptop to see the cameras making sure she’s ok AND HELP HE SEES HER … yk. And he feels guilty like he shouldn’t watch but he does anyways. And this goes on for weeks. Until one night he’s sick and tired of her always being so mean and he accidentally lets it slip that he’s been watching her LOL AND SHES LIKE UHM BOY WHAT 🙄⁉️ and he tries to play it off like “I didnt mean to” but like, my brother in Christ… you’ve been watching every night for weeks 🤨 wdym you didn’t mean to? ANYWAYS LONG STORY SHORT SHE PUNISHES HIM AND HEAVYYYY ON THE FREE USE THING. Love you bae 😘

i made a couple minor changes just for convenience :) fem reader she/her pronouns!

also i didn’t write the smex scene IM SORRY but i have been working on this all day and i need to get to other asks but i promise i’ll write some more free use in the future because it’s so smexy

-

"look, i know you don't like me-"

"oh? really? tell me what you think you know, kennedy," you scowl at him, and though it spooks him just a little, he tries to seem unphased.

he frowns, not hurt by your words but definitely concerned that you'll make a bad partner, "you don't need to be this hostile. we're allies. we're supposed to have each other's backs."

"right..." your voice echos, and leon knows that if it came down to it, you wouldn't protect him, wouldn't save him, would barely help him. he's practically on his own for this mission, just has an extra body with him to shoot at the bad guys.

it hurts, to some degree, because even without knowing you well, and even with you being cold and rude to him, he knows he'd come to your rescue in a heartbeat. something about him feels fond of you, even though in your entire time knowing leon kennedy, you haven't said one nice thing to him.

he thinks that maybe he likes that you've never been nice to him. he doesn't really know what to do with that thought.

-

leon is proved wrong.

despite the harshness of your words, you come to his rescue, fighting off the villager who almost decapitated him with an axe like both of your lives depend on it (because they do).

he watches you fight nervously, but when you come out on top, aside from the gash wound you take to the hip, he feels his heart skip a beat.

"this is what happens when you hurt my partner," you groan, holding your side, trying to speak through the pain even though leon can see the blood seeping between your fingers.

you whisper something in your victim's ear, something leon can't quite make out, before you kill him. leon wonders what it was briefly. he decides it doesn’t matter.

you both breathe a sigh of relief, but it's short lived as you collapse to the ground. you saved him. you got hurt saving him.

"here, let me help you," he mutters, coming over to you, not even stopping to ask if you want his help because he knows you'll say no, "stop fighting me. you're hurt and i need to patch you up."

the pain is agonizing, but even through gritted teeth and tense breaths, you push through it. he has to commend you a little bit, you're tougher than you look.

but when you try to push his hand away, claiming "i'm fine, kennedy," he sees the struggle in your face, hears the hurt in your voice. his heart seems to stop. he's worried, "i can do it myself, you don't have to- fuck, dude, i don't need your help-."

"-just relax, okay? i got you..”

you don't have the strength to push him away, but you know you shouldn't anyway, so you just slouch back against the wall and try to breathe, "fine, just fuckin... hurry up."

"i'm just trying to take care of you. we're partners, right? i gotta look out for you," he smiles, trying to lighten the mood even slightly. he wishes that this would be the time the barriers come down, that those skyscraper walls that prevented him from coming any closer to you emotionally could come crashing down, if only for a moment.

"you don't have to do anything. you're choosing to put yourself in danger to help me," you groan as you lean back, looking up at the ceiling, "suprised that no one's tried to take advantage of your willingness to help before."

"someone did," he mutters annoyedly, focusing more on the wound then it being your wound, on your body. his eyebrows, almost naturally furrowed from years of stress, somehow make his face even more sad to gaze upon. it's not that he's unattractive, far from it, but he's... worn. tired. a piece of your heart, no matter how far you keep away from him, aches in sympathy.

-

leon carries you back to the safe room, a hideout you both are using to rest and recover in while you plot your next move. he lays his jacket on the ground to at least give you something comfortable to lie on. you don't look comfortable, but he can't do anything else to help you.

he looks through his things, trying to concoct something that will at least make you feel a little bit better. he finds a first aid spray, and his heart jumps out of his chest in excitement. he uses it to take care of your wound, and waits for you to wake up from your unconscious state.

he decides to go back out, hoping to maybe find some other things to help you both on your mission. he knows you'll berate him for leaving on his own, risking his own life needlessly. but god if he didn't imagine what it would be like if he found something you could really use, and watch your eyes light up. even if you didn't like him, you'd be happy. he wants to see you smile, to praise him for a job well done.

he cringes at how pathetic it sounds, but he sets off either way, leaving you wrapped in his jacket with a note from him saying what he's doing.

-

he doesn't do it intentionally. at least... not the first time. genuinely, he just wanted to check up on you, make sure you were alive and breathing and safe. and you definitely were.

he doesn't know why its so hypnotizing, why he can't put his goddamn phone away with the stupid security app on it. of course it's you, though. you're hypnotizing.

he watches every pixel, every distorted view of you touching yourself in the safe room, obviously unaware that he could... see this. he's glad there's no audio, or else he'd be unable to control himself, even in an abandoned building surrounded by zombies. maybe its the years that haven hardened him, burned the fear out of his soul and numbed him to the presence of those things, but he doesn't feel anything but uncontrollable desire right now.

have you been doing it the whole time? you both had spilt off from each other multiple times, and he would almost be upset at the idea that every time he was fighting for his life and barely, barely winning that fight each time, you were getting off a couple hundred feet from him in another room... if it wasn't so fucking hot to watch you masturbate.

he keeps watching until he notices that you're having an orgasm, body twitching and your chest heaving up and down as you take deep breathes. it's so fucking sexy, leon probably could have cum on the spot if he watched anymore.

-

you keep doing it. he keeps watching it. over the course of the mission (of course he had to be stuck on a long, secluded recon mission with you of all people) he's watched you too many times. he doesn't think he has enough fingers to count how many times, which either means he's been on this mission longer than he thought or you have a fucking addiction. he's almost kind of impressed at how efficient you are. takes you 10 minutes tops, and then you just get back up and keep on trucking? his sentimental, post-nut ass could never.

and, though you recovered from your wound, you haven't displayed any sense of gratitude for leon taking care of you when you passed out after getting hurt. not that he expects it, truthfully. you saved his life, he saved yours. you were even.

he just doesn't feel like he's broken any new ground. he feels like, if anything, you feel even further away, emotionally. he's about had it.

"hey, we need to talk," he says, ominously; he doesn't intend it to be so, "i understand you don't like me. it's fine. i don't even care anymore. but i am tired of you talking to me like i'm a pushover."

you look over at him, reloading your gun with a displeased look on your face. leon hates the inner urge he has to cave and apologize to you, as if his body would rather give up any sense of dignity he still has in favor of being slightly more tolerable to you.

"well? are you going to say something?"

you scoff, looking away, "didn't know you were so fucking sensitive, kennedy," and you turn around, ready to walk out, before he snaps, "this isn't a pleasure trip. sorry you're not having a good time."

"clearly you're having a good time with all the pleasure you're giving yourself while i'm trying not to die."

he stops. panicking. trying to think of how to spin the words he just said and make it not sound like he knew every tell you had when you were about to cum or exactly how you touch yourself in order to get yourself off quickly.

you stop as well. and you look back at him with this expression on your face that is completely unreadable.

maybe it wasn't the best move to reveal the only card he had left to play if it mean he would get this reaction out of you considering that, again, you so clearly do not like him.

... right?

"what... did you say, kennedy?" you ask, pure venom in your voice. it's not a question, you so clearly heard him correctly.

"i- i'm sorry, i didn't mean to say that-"

"have you been watching me?" you take a step closer, eyes boring into his soul so intensely he can't make eye contact. he has no way out of this situation. he feels out of breath, nervous, god why are you getting so close to him? "answer me, leon," not kennedy, leon, "have you been watching me masturbate?"

he looks up, trying to keep himself from making eye contact. he knows the second he looks into your eyes, he will be putty in your hands, free for you to mold into whatever you'd like. he knows you're not looking at him with distain like usual, it's something else.

something hungry.

"yeah," he breathes, barely getting the world out at all. you take a deep breath, as if you're debating what you're going to do.

"what you did was wrong, you see that, right?"

"yes, i know, but-"

you scoff, annoyed. god why in this moment, just inches away from you, you notice the moles on his neck, the angle of his jaw, the entrancing aura of his eyes. it's so damn distracting, and you have to pull yourself together, "but nothing. you watched me without my consent, you got off on it, didn't you?"

"god, you're making it sound so bad, i... i'm sorry, okay? how can i make it up to you?" he asks, trying so damn hard as always to please.

this is where you come to realize that maybe you didn't hate leon kennedy all this time. maybe you found yourself too comfortable, too at ease in his presence. maybe he was safe and sweet and gentle and it didn't sit right because nothing in a world with zombies and bioweapons and cults and parasites was gentle. but leon is.

you look down, considering your options, "i have an idea. you're free to refuse and we go back to before, and you get nothing from me. do you want to hear it?"

"sure?"

you take a breath, going for it, "i’ll be… blunt. if you couldn’t tell, i’m a bit.. insatiable. i need something to get myself off now that i’m getting bored of my own hands out here. you help me, and i’ll forgive you for watching me.”

his thoughts stop. he genuinely can’t put together a coherent thought, what did you mean? "are you.. are you fucking serious? you barely speak to me, every time you do speak to me you act like i'm the scum of the earth, you act like i'm not here when i saved your ass and carried you and patched you up, i-”

you cut him off with a kiss. it’s not gentle, it’s rough and messy and your fingers dig into the skin of his cheeks, leaving him red and breathless. he finally gets it. you don’t want him to help you, you want to use him.

he lets you push him down, pin his body to the wall as you kiss him breathless. he lets you dig your nails into his neck even if it hurts. he lets you touch and kiss him as rough or as gentle as you like. and you don’t like being gentle, clearly.

“use me,” he whispers between kisses, and when you pull away, eyeing him intently, as if urging him to explain himself, he does, “do whatever you want. just keep going until you’re satisfied. don’t… don’t hold back. whatever pleases you… i want that. i want to please you.”

“awh, you just want me to be happy with you, don’t you?” you coo at him, endeared by his selflessness. truly a good man in a bad world, “that’s all you’ve ever wanted, hm? for me to like you?”

his resolve cracks just a little bit more, “uhm, yeah…” he his voice is shaky, unsteady, and he just needs to give in.

“then you’re going to let me do this every single time in horny and need something to get myself off. i’m going to do whatever i want to you, and i’m not going to ask. you’re just going to let me. if you don’t, then we go right back to being enemies, and you really don’t want that, right?”

he stutters aimlessly, his knees going weak. he’d truly be done for if you weren’t hold him up with a strength he did not know you had.

and you just keep going, “i’m not going to ask or care if it’s a bad time. i want it to be inconvenient, uncomfortable, ill-timed. i want it to be permanently in your head that i can have you whenever i want you. that i can do whatever i want to you.”

“only i get to have you, got it?”

“g-got it,” he mutters weakly, feeling your hands on him, touching him in places he hasn’t been touched in a while. he didn’t realize how desperate he was.

“only i get to touch you, only i… get to fuck you.”

he nods helplessly.

“it’s too bad i didn’t bring a dildo in my bag when we set off for this mission, because i would so fuck you with it until you’re seeing stars and apologizing for going behind my back… but i suppose i’ll just have to satisfy myself with your cock…”

#sub leon kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s. kennedy #leon kennedy smut #sub leon kennedy smut #resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #resident evil smut #reader insert #smut #sub!leon #re2r leon #re2 smut #re2 #re2r #re4 #re4 leon #re4 remake #re4 smut #resident evil 4

[seeingivy]

pls do "the story of us" for ur gojo x taylor swift series 🙏🙏

the story of us

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: gojo is ur roommates best friend, he is annoying (more teen gojo I am arrogant bastard vibes then sweetie teacher baby gojo), hoes are fighting, hoes are in the most complicated situationship on the planet earth, mistletoe, ice skating, sukuna as an annoying ex, mysterious evil dad figure for gojo

an: proof im the most annoying writer ever. made a poll for taylor as gojo to, for a second time now, ignore those options and write a completely different songs. sincerest apologies but gojo as taylor fans come get yall juice.

--

“Good morning, you hag.” Satoru states, in a fell swoop, crashing any hopes you had of having a good morning. 

“Good morning, you garden troll.” you respond. 

You rub the sleep out of your eyes, rummaging through the cabinets for a bowl, as he jumps up off the couch and joins you in the kitchen, keen and eager to annoy you bright and early in the morning. 

He’s leaning on the granite countertops at your side, his blue eyes peering over those god awful sunglasses he’s always intent on wearing - despite the fact that it’s quite literally raining outside - and gives you a jeering smile. 

“So, do all girls wear granny nightgowns or is it just you?” he asks, twisting the end of your pigtail braids in his hair. You immediately smack his hand off and glare, turning around to reach for the milk. 

“Do all boys have tiny dicks and overcompensate with a shitty personality or is it just you?” you iterate back, earning a satisfying glare back from him. 

With his snow white hair and annoyingly glimmering blue eyes, your roommate's best friend, Satoru Gojo, is quite literally the biggest nuisance you’ve ever met in your life. Clearly a rich kid, trust fund type, you can tell that Satoru, in earnest, has never worked a day in his life. And his lack of tact and self awareness truly reflects that. 

It’s embedded deep in the way that he acts. Because Satoru saunters from place to place, showing up at your apartment with no consideration or respect for you and Suguru, bats his pretty eyes at his professors when he’s failing, flirts with girls before he cheats off of their tests, and the list goes on and on. 

 One thing is clear. That he’s a spineless, pathetic little manchild. 

And you’re not sure why, what it is specifically about you, but he’s clearly made it his personal mission in life to antagonize and irritate you.Maybe it’s the fact that you yelled at him the first time he ever showed up in this apartment, that you couldn’t help but disagree with every word that came out of his mouth, that at his core he just agitated you - but it led you to this horrible predicament that you’re in now. 

That you ended up having to room with Suguru, when Sukuna dumped you and kicked you out. And that, of course, the universe was always in your favor, and you ended up at the one place Satoru was when he wasn’t shamelessly flirting with any living organism, which was right outside your room. 

Right on cue, the front door slams open and Suguru’s barging in, wildly out of breath and panting. His usual fixed, pristine bun is in a mess, his pupils wide and dilated as he looks at the two of you. 

“Fucking perfect!” he pants, leaning down on his knees and trying to catch his breath. 

“G’morning Suguru. You okay, there?” you ask, giving him a strange look. 

“Okay, okay. You guys are dating.” 

“Huh?” you both ask, eyes boggling out of your heads. 

“You’re dating. Be-be in love, I don’t know, be in love!” he shouts, immediately running back out of the door and slamming the door shut. 

You and Satoru give each other a look before shrugging, returning back to your bowl of cereal and Gojo to his phone. And on cue, Suguru strolls back into the apartment, more calmly and with a girl at his side. His cheeks are still flushed in pink, the panting subsided but still present in his voice.

“Y/N, Satoru, this is Hiromi. Hiromi, this is my roommate Y/N and her boyfriend, Satoru.” 

You swallow hard, realizing quickly what’s happening here. And out of the kindness of your heart, groan at the fact that you’re going to have to oblige. 

Three months ago, you got dumped by Sukuna. Because as much as you and the two of you had moved past, he had finally exhausted all ends and had enough of you.

Quite literally, enough of you, because he went as far as packing your things and taking your key, fully intent on never letting you back in. And out of the kindness of his heart, one of your only friends - who was free of any attachments to Sukuna - had an empty room in his apartment that he offered to lease to you. 

Suguru, naturally, was the perfect roommate. Always cleaned up after himself, offered to listen whenever you needed him, saved leftovers for you when you had a long day. Except for the stupid white haired plus one that came with him, it was perfect. 

For you. Because while Suguru was all but willing to offer you the spot in the room, insisting that it never caused an issue, he might have been fibbing the truth to save your feelings. Something you found out from Satoru, who is naturally a loudmouth. 

That since Suguru has a female roommate, you’ve put a damper on his…..romantic endeavors. Because they’re increasingly enthusiastic, so into him, until the shit hits the fan. 

They find out that you’re his roommate. And you think it’s a little ridiculous, but they all cite the same reason for not talking to him past the second or third date. Because to them, there’s no way in hell that he isn’t crushing on you, that you don't cuddle at night, and that you definitely coddle each other in a way no one else does. 

Because nothing is more ironic than losing a guy to the girl he lives with and they’d rather cut their losses before getting involved. 

Which proves that Suguru must really like this girl. Because if he’s going this far, lying to her the second before she walks in, it must mean that he really wants her to stick around. 

Is it moral? No. Is Suguru lonely? Yes. 

“Hiromi. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” you respond, setting your bowl down and extending a hand to her. 

She gives you a warm smile back, laughing at Satoru flaunting some stupid line about chivalry before he presses a kiss on top of her knuckles. Satoru must be enjoying himself too much, because he’s now snaking his hand around your waist, leaning down to press his temple against yours. 

“Would you like to stay for breakfast? Poor Suguru has third wheeled with us far enough.” he asks, as she politely nods in response. 

You and Satoru lead Hiromi to the breakfast table - Satoru now eating your bowl of cereal - as Suguru starts setting out to make breakfast for all of you. You and Satoru sit side by side, sparing each other an awkward glance, as Hiromi shamelessly ogles you. 

“So how long have you guys been dating?” Hiromi asks, politely folding her hands flat on the table. 

“Well. Um, I moved here right after I broke up with my ex-boyfriend. He kind of left me with no place to live and I kind of met Satoru here. And then it just happened.” you mumble, cheeks turning pink. 

Satoru, again, has no concept of personal boundaries. He slings his hand around your shoulders, planting a wet kiss on your cheeks, before responding to her. 

“Don’t mind her, she just gets really shy when she talks about her feelings for me.” 

“Satoru.” 

“But rest assured, I promise you that you don’t have to worry about Suguru and Y/N, if that’s what you’re trying to pry about.” 

Her face immediately goes pink, as you look over at Satoru, who flashes you a knowing smile and squeezes your shoulder. 

“I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to pry, I hope you understand. It’s just that…it’s kind of a weird situation. And I know that probably says more about my insecurities than anything but-” 

You reach over, placing your hand over her folded ones. 

“It’s a normal thing to be concerned about. If I was you, I probably would have asked a hundred berating questions already.” 

“Yeah. She gets really possessive.” Gojo unhelpfully adds. 

You shoot him a glare, before returning to look at her and smiling. 

“But I promise, you have nothing to worry about. I-I don’t even think about Suguru like that. And we’re never here alone, Satoru’s always here with me.” 

“Like you, I too am possessive over my girl. Despite the fact that she quite literally makes it so easy for us by wearing the most unflattering pajamas, I’ll be here to stamp out any budding feelings, if that makes you feel better.” 

“Yeah. Satoru really knows how to take the romance out of a room. I know better than anyone.” you respond, earning a laugh from Hiromi as she releases that awkward tension in her shoulders. 

 

You kick the tiny divots on the floor, patiently waiting for your matcha latte at the bar. Your anxiety is growing by the second, the unexpected morning rush and the heavy foot traffic outside indicating that you were going to be late to your morning class if your drink wasn’t made in the next few minutes. 

You’re thrown out of your thoughts by a tapping on your shoulder, only to find a boy, with blonde hair and brown eyes smiling at you. 

“I like your shirt.” 

You look down, at your boygenius the record shirt, and look up to smile at him. 

“Thank you! What’s your favorite song?”

“We’re In Love.” he responds, giving you a warm smile. 

You’re not sure why, but hearing him say the words has the blood rushing to your cheeks. You hold your hand out to him, swallowing that deep warm pit in your throat. 

“Y/N.” 

“Kento. It’s nice to meet you.” 

And really, the moment - your stupid coffee shop meet cute - comes crashing down when you hear that agitating, grating voice at your side. 

“And I’m Satoru!” Satoru states, standing at your side and too blissfully happy for seven in the morning. You glare at him, as he gives you an annoyingly irritating smile. 

“Your drink is here, babe.” Satoru states, holding your dark green matcha latte in his nimble hands. From the way it’s half full, you can tell he already downed half of it in the few seconds you were talking to Kento. 

“Thank you.” you grate out, giving Kento an awkward smile. 

“Well, Kento. It was nice meeting you but we have a class to get to.”  Satoru adds. 

He cocks his head to the side, blue eyes peeking over his sunglasses, as he looks at you. 

“Ready to go?” 

You groan, knowing internally that whatever shred of a moment you just had was gone, as you sigh. 

“Yes. Bye Kento.” 

You glare at him as you walk out of the store, Satoru reaching over to pull the hood of your rain jacket up, as the two of you start marching through the downpour. He’s walking at your side, sporting some very light clothes for the way it’s raining down. 

“I don’t like matcha. We should start getting iced vanilla lattes.” 

“I didn’t realize we were sharing. And that was really rude, Satoru.“

“Everything that’s yours is mine, sweetheart.” 

“Really? What are the three numbers on the back of your credit card, boo boo bear?” 

“666.” he responds, flicking the side of your cheek. 

“That’s fitting.” you murmur back, as he slides the drink out of your hand, again. 

You and Satoru march in silence, trudging through the puddles collecting in the holes of pavement, the silence enveloping the two of you. 

And really, for what seems like the hundredth time, you’re racking your brain trying to figure Satoru Gojo out. You’re not sure what it is about him, what drives him to act the way he does, but every answer you find leaves you with a hundred more questions you want to answer. 

In the few months you’ve been living with Suguru, you’ve been able to ascertain a few things. 

First and foremost, there is no one Satoru Gojo loves more than his friends. From the way he affectionately talks about Suguru, and their hometown friend Shoko, it’s evident enough that whatever friendship he has with the two of them means the world to him. 

Second, Satoru Gojo is extremely comfortable in his sense of self. From the way he carries himself, enthusiastically chats with strangers on the train and feels so comfortable stealing your lattes after the bar, you can tell that no one has tried to stomp that spirit out of him. Other people, more meek and timid like you perhaps, get that childlike wonder stamped out of them. But here Satoru Gojo is, at the ripe age of twenty-one, still sporting it like a proud badge he wears. 

And third, Satoru Gojo loves to irritate you. You’re not sure what it is about you exactly, whether it’s the fact that you’re Suguru’s roommate so it leaves you off limits to any of his usual charming compliments he leaves for other girls, but Satoru treats you like no one else. Always pulling at the ends of your hair, “lovingly” making fun of your clothes, and obviously, stamping any chance you have of romantic endeavors. 

Satoru swings the door open for you, walking all the way to the front of your class. He holds out a five dollar bill and gives you a cheeky grin.

“What for?” 

“Thanks for the latte, princess.” 

You glare, snatching the bill out of his hands. 

“You’re welcome.” 

Right on cue, a girl all but appears out of thin air at your side, giving you and Satoru sickly sweet smiles. 

“Hi Satoru.” 

Satoru’s leaning against the frame now, an irritating move you’ve seen him do countless times - one to show off his stupidly toned arms - as he leans down and smiles at her. 

“Hi Sammy. How are you?” 

“Pretty good, now that you’re here.” she responds, twisting the ends of her hair in between her fingers. 

You fight the urge to gag as Satoru laughs, leaning forward to tuck the stray hairs by the side of her ear. 

“Right, so. I’ll see you later, babe?” you ask Satoru, giving him a smile. 

He looks over, glaring with his bright, angry blue eyes. 

“Y/N.” he responds, tone warning. 

“And Satoru, sweetheart? Do remember to grab toilet paper on the way home. Suguru is getting really tired of cleaning up your skid marks.” you respond, reaching forward to pinch his cheek and settling into your seat at the front, watching him seethe at the front door. 

--

When you walk into the apartment, Satoru’s incessant comments are the final nail in the coffin on what might be the worst day ever. 

“Ouch. I think I just went temporarily blind. You look horrible.” Satoru asks, momentarily taking his eyes off of the movie he was watching with Suguru and Hiromi. 

And the comment - so pathetically hitting you the last place you needed it - is enough to send you crying in a fit of your tears, as you lock the door behind you. 

Satoru looks over to find Suguru and Hiromi glaring at him, Suguru more angry and Hiromi more disappointed. He can’t pick which one is worse. Well actually, you crying in his face is the worst thing that happened in the past few minutes, but their reaction is right up there with them. 

“What?” Satoru asks, shrugging. 

“Satoru.” Suguru berates.

“What? I was just joking.” 

“I don’t understand how you and Y/N are dating. I mean, you can hardly even call it that.” Hiromi states, looking at him rather unhelpfully. 

Suguru’s eyes go wide at her side and Satoru swallows hard, thinking of his collateral. Because in earnest, Satoru’s not really sure what Suguru sees in Hiromi, why he would ever think this would be the best solution to his issue. 

But when you followed Suguru’s lead, all Satoru could really do was oblige. 

“That’s just how Y/N and I communicate. It’s our love language.” Satoru says, giving her a halfhearted smile. 

“You know she hates it right?” Hiromi asks. 

“Well, I don’t know about-” 

“Who would want to wake up every morning and have someone just constantly berating them? Just teasing them, making fun of every little thing you say. And sure, it’s fun sometimes to banter with your partner but…it can’t really be easy for her. She doesn’t have many friends. And the one person who's supposed to like her being…rude can’t help either.” Hiromi adds. 

“Well, I just…tease her because that’s how I know to talk to her. That’s just how I am. And she has plenty of friends.” Satoru responds. 

“Not anymore. They’re all friends with Sukuna, who I’m positive she wants nothing to do with. It’s probably why she even tolerates you in the first place. Granted, I’m not trying to speak on your relationship but from what I’ve seen, it’s….you kind of have to make adjustments for her.” Hiromi states. 

“I don’t know if that will-” 

“Just be there with her. It’ll help her. I think deep down, she just wants someone to be there with her. At her side to support her.” 

Satoru gives Suguru a glare, before obliging and knocking on your door. He takes a deep breath as he walks in, finding you slumped on the floor next to your vinyl player. The gray vinyl is scratching on the table, soft guitar music emanating from it as you lay on your side. Satoru follows suit, lying flat on the ground next to you until the two of you are face to face. And in earnest, Satoru feels horrible. At your pink eyes, flushed cheeks, and puffy skin. Because for god knows whatever reason, what he had said was enough to make you cry. 

Satoru never understood it. Why people assign him so much importance when anything he’s ever had to say has been discarded all together. It’s why he’s unsure of what to say to you right now, when he’s never had to say anything at all. 

“Hi Y/N.” 

You stare back at him blankly, his blue eyes void of any of their usual excitement as he stares back at you. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

You divert your attention, the question so…agitating, that all you can do is watch your vinyl spin around on the table, at the little pin digging into the plate. 

“Is um….I don’t really know how to do this whole…comforting thing. It’s kind of awkward. Is this that band you like?”

You give him a meek nod, which he smiles at, before squinting at the small print on the vinyl. 

“Ah. I get it. You’re trying to be Cool About It. Whatever it is that’s bothering you.” 

“That was lame. Even for you, Satoru.” you respond, wiping the snot off of your nose. 

“Well, I personally think you’re hot. Being Cool About It was never going to be your thing either.” he responds. 

He’s not sure what it is about what he said, but suddenly your face is falling and you’re kind of…glaring at him. You pull your hood up and turn away from him, because the embarrassment of having Satoru Gojo in your room pitying you right now would be the actual nail in the coffin before you went full on off your rocker crazy. 

Satoru’s quick to move, now sitting crisscrossed near your head and looking down at you. 

“Are you playing hard to get so I’ll call you hot again?” 

“No. I’m trying to get you to stop pitying me.” you murmur back, pulling the hood over your face. 

“I don’t pity you.” 

You stand up, crossing your legs on the floor, as you turn to face him. And you know that Satoru in no way deserves any shape of the wrath that’s coming out of your mouth, but you can’t help it. 

“You don’t?” 

“Well, of course I-” 

“Yes, Satoru, you do. Because really, you’re only here because Suguru or Hiromi asked you to be. They asked you to put whatever the fuck it is that you have going on inside your head and think for one fucking second how it is that you make me feel. When you make fun of me constantly, do every last thing to agitate me, quite literally flirt with every living microorganism on this goddamn planet but me. I know that you really, truly do not care. You’re just here because they asked you to be but god, please spare me of whatever shitty response you’re trying to muster up to make me feel better because there’s no point. I just feel horrible when I’m around you.” you shout. 

You lean back against the back of your bed, your chest heaving, as you knot your fingers together and groan. Because if the day couldn’t get any worse, you just yelled at Satoru. 

For no reason. After he tried to comfort you, in his own weird way. 

He scoots up at your side, sliding his hand around your shoulder once again, and leaning your head against his shoulder. Your stupid tears are falling again as he rubs into your skin, the touch soft. 

“All that because you’re mad I won’t flirt with you?” he murmurs. 

“Of course that’s what you got out of it.” 

He laughs, the lack of anger in his tone at your words soothing down the bouts of guilt in your chest. 

“You’re not the type of girl I can flirt with.” 

“Jeez. Thanks Satoru. You really know how to make a girl feel special.” 

He reaches forward to pinch your nose, before continuing. 

“I mean, I’m obviously a guy who lacks self-awareness or tact, in quite literally any conversation.” 

“Naturally.” you respond. 

He gives you a pointed glare, before continuing. 

“But I have self awareness when it comes to these types of things. I know I shouldn’t flirt with you.” he responds. 

“And why’s that? I’m too ugly of a hag for you?” you spit. 

“No. You’re the type of girl who could take my heart and run off with it if I let you.” 

You shrug his hand off your shoulder, rolling your eyes. 

“You’re full of shit, Satoru Gojo. And corny as hell.” 

“You know you’re no good for me, right?” 

You look at him, at his deep, ocean blue eyes for the first time, filled with an emotion you can’t quite place. 

“You’d put me in my place too fast. Maybe too eager, too curious to figure out what it is I’ve got going on up and here. And I don’t know the answers to that either, but you’d want to make me figure it out. Whatever mess of things going on, I-I’d want to fix it for you. And as nice as that sounds, you’d probably break any semblance of structure I’d have left the second you go running. Which is something even I can’t handle.” he responds, lifting his hand to take yours in it. 

You cross link your fingers with his, linking your hands together. And try to place the emotion, that dragging sound in his voice. 

It’s desperation. 

“Why do you think I would leave?” you ask, looking down at your intertwined hands.

Satoru smiles in response, reaching forward to trace his fingers along the edge of your lips. 

“You’ve just proved my point.” 

And when he pads out of your room, you realize that once again, he’s left you with a hundred questions left to answer. But the one you’re sure of is this. 

That the emotion that was welling in his deep, crystal blue eyes was impassioned. That it was real. 

--

In the following weeks, things change between you and Satoru, but not too drastically. You’re not required to keep your show up for Hiromi too often, because she’s quite literally too enamored with Suguru to even think about the two of you, and Satoru Gojo stays the same way he is. 

He steals your lattes, pulls your hair, lovingly calls you an old hag, and stamps out any hopes you have for romantic endeavors. But somewhere around the grayness of November, he doesn’t stop by your apartment for three days. 

“Hey. Where’s Gojo?” 

Suguru looks up from his phone, giving you the most obscene look you’ve ever seen him muster. 

“Huh?” 

“Gojo? Satoru Gojo? That gangly idiot that’s always hanging around here?” 

“Yes. I’m well aware who he is, Y/N. Why are you asking?” 

“Dunno. He’s always around and now he’s not. Are you sure he’s not dead in a ditch somewhere?” you ask. 

“He might as well be. His dad is in town. Spending time with him.” he responds, turning back to his phone and looking away from you. 

You frown, leaning against the counter, as you reach for your phone. And you’re not sure why you do it but you slide into your chat with him and start typing. 

you: are you enjoying your father daughter time? 

satoru: are you missing me?

you: missing the free lattes that come from going to the coffee shop with you :/ 

you: come hit on the girl at the paper lantern. im craving a matcha latte. 

satoru: i would never waste a free drink on a matcha latte. 

satoru: and quit trying to whore me out for free drinks. 

you: then buy me one. 

satoru: well played. 

satoru: the ice skating rink, on sixteenth and rockfield. i’ll be there in an hour. 

You smile gleefully, wrapping your scarf carefully around you, as you head out into the cold to the ice skating rink Satoru had picked out. And you catch the back of his snow white hair, leaning against the railing as you eye the big, bright Christmas tree at the center. 

You walk up to his side, lacing your hand through his, as you turn and give him a smile. He returns the gesture, some part of his demeanor muted today, as he turns to you. 

“Hi Y/N.” 

“Satoru. Where’s my drink?” 

Satoru rolls his eyes, before reaching for the two cups on the ground and handing you one. 

“Your shitty matcha latte. As requested.” 

You smile, wrapping your arms around the drink, as he leads you to the stand to get your skates. His hand is soft on the small of your back as you walk up to the girl giving out the shoes. 

“Sizes?” she asks. 

“Eight.” you respond. 

“Eleven and a half.” Satoru provides, as the girl whisks off to grab your shoes. 

“Eleven and a half? What are you, Bigfoot?” you respond. 

“You know what they say. Big feet, big…” 

“Ego. But we knew that already.” you respond. 

The two of you take the skates and head over to the bench, Satoru too quick with his own skates that he’s suddenly tying yours and dragging you onto your feet. The two of you stand at the front of the tiny little opening, the sudden awkwardness of the situation dawning on you. 

That you don’t know how to ice skate. 

“What are we waiting for?” Satoru asks, hands on both of your shoulders as he stands behind you. He rests his chin on the top of your head, his breath tickling the hair on your scalp. 

“The rink to open up. There’s a bunch of people, I don’t want to crash into them the second we get on.” 

Satoru frowns, bringing his hands around your chin and lightly moving your face to his. 

“Are the people in the room with us? There’s like nine people here. And four of them are under the age of seven.” he deadpans. 

“I don’t want to knock over a kid.” you whine. 

“Yeah, that would be goblin on troll crime.” Satoru responds. 

“Am I the goblin or the troll?” you ask. 

“Troll. Obviously.” he responds, bringing his hands around your waist as he lifts you onto the ice with him. 

You’re suddenly wobbling too hard on your feet and holding onto his extended arms with a deathlike grip, the cold air biting your skin as your legs turn to noodles. 

“Okay, Raggedy Anne. Face me.” he states, voice soft as he turns you towards him. His hands are locked in with yours, the hold firm as he smiles. 

“Satoru.” you whine. 

“Just try to glide with me, okay? Our goal is to get to that side of the rink, by the end of our game.” 

“What’s our game?” you ask. 

“We’re going to play twenty questions.” Satoru states, mimicking the gliding motion as he instructs you.

You follow his suit, clutching hard on his arm every time you wobble, as Satoru starts to distract you with the stupid game he’s intent on playing. 

“Me first. Why did you text me?” Satoru asks. 

“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead in a ditch somewhere. It was surprisingly peaceful for the past few days, so I knew you had to be in some type of mortal peril somewhere.” you respond. 

Gojo hums in response, as you try hard to pick the hundreds of questions you have to ask Gojo. 

“Where were you the past few days?” you ask. 

“Did you want me there?” Satoru asks, tone hopeful. 

“You’re supposed to answer before you ask again. And I’m not sure if want is the word. But…I don’t know. It’s weird not having you around. All quiet.” you respond. 

“My dad’s in town. Was kind of busy.” 

You hum in response, rolling over the words in your head. 

“I did want you around.” you add, earning a smile from him. 

The two of you skate in silence, the wobbling minimal now as you try to reach the railing at the end of the rink that Satoru had pointed out, right near the small, brightly decorated Christmas tree at the end of the rink. 

“It’s your turn, Y/N.” Satoru reminds. 

“Right. Do you like your dad?” 

“No. What happened with Sukuna?” 

You swallow hard, so caught off guard by the question that you fall straight into the ice. You must have been holding onto Satoru too hard because he goes tumbling down with you, lightly rubbing the spot on his head that made contact with the ice. You reach forward, cradling his head in your hands. 

“Fuck. Sorry, Gojo. That caught me off guard.” 

“That’s my bad, princess. It came out of nowhere.” he responds, standing up on his knees as he holds his hand out for you. He’s wiping the excess ice off the sides of your clothes and you mimic his motions. 

The two of you start silently skating towards the end of the rink again, hands linked together, as you figure out the right words to say. 

“I live with Suguru because of him. He wasn’t the best.” 

“I know that much, Y/N.” 

“He…kicked me out. Like, put all my things in a box, put them outside, and kept my key.” 

His hand tighets in yours as you swallow hard and continue. 

“Dunno. I guess he just kind of sucked. I was trying to convince myself I liked him, that we were in love for a really long time. I’d write him all these really long love letters, that he basically read days after the fact that I wrote them. He’d compliment me once in a while, but then I realized when it was only when he wanted something.” you respond, sighing. 

Satoru doesn’t respond, only squeezes your hand in response to the entire bout of word vomit you just gave him. 

“Why don’t you like your dad?” you ask. 

“He thinks I’m perfect.” Satoru responds, sighing. 

“Boo hoo.” you respond, joking. 

He smiles in response, his hand lightly loosening in yours. You tighten your grip against his again, giving him your best smile. 

“I’m joking, ‘Toru. What did you mean by that?” 

“I just mean. He expects so much from me, because I’m his only son. And when I was a kid, he was really hard on me for it. Made me attend all these shitty classes by myself, isolated me from other kids because I was meant to be something great. And I obviously pulled away from him because of it. But then, he kind of…shifted. He was vying so hard for my attention now, that suddenly I became free of all blame, all faults.” 

“Well, we both know that’s not true.” 

He snorts, dragging you to the end of the railing by the Christmas tree, as you both lean against the little glass panes. 

“I just wanted him to be real with me. Tell me when I was good, tell me when I was bad. Not where he was criticizing every move I made but not when he was praising all of them either.” 

You nod, turning to your side to hold both of his hands in yours. 

“Well, you’re shitty when you’re mean to me. But you’re nice when you’re like this.” you state. 

He smiles, that stupid lopsided grin, as he brings his hands around your neck and pulls you in against him. His lips are soft and warm, though you’re not sure how, against your almost frostbitten, cold blue ones. But the warmth that’s blooming in your chest, under your skin, from his hands, from his lips on yours is enough to bring you down. 

He pulls back, resting his forehead against yours as he places a light kiss to the tip of your pink nose. 

“What was that for?” you ask, breathless. 

“Mistletoe.” Satoru responds, pushing off the little railing and slowly skating away, waiting for him to join you. 

You look up, fighting the urge to smile at the small little bundle of leaves and berries above you, as you skate out and join his hand to go around the rink. 

--

There’s an incessant pounding on your door that wakes you up, as you pull on the closest jacket and your glasses as you pad to the door. You open up to find him there, half bored on his phone, as he looks up at you. 

“Oh. Hey. Was the spare not under-” 

He all but lurches forward, wrapping his hands around your neck as he presses his lips to yours. He’s all too eager, because he’s walking into you so fast that he’s all but pushed you up against the wall behind you, his lips hanging off yours as he smiles into your mouth. 

“Y/N.” he hums, smiling into your face. 

“Good morning to you too.” 

He smiles, wrapping his hands around your wrist, as he leads you back to your bed, quickly peeling your hoodie off your frame as he tucks you into the bed with him. And instead of doing what you thought he was going to do, he’s tucking you tight against his frame, your face tucked into his clavicle, as he brings his arms around yours and holds you tight. 

“Did you come all this way to cuddle?” 

“I came all this way to kiss you. This is just a bonus.” 

You burrow yourself into his skin, leaning your head against his, as your thousand questions swim around in your mind. On what you’re doing, on why he’s here, on if you can even ask. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” 

“You have a weird, pinched up look on your pretty face. What is it?” he asks. 

“Oh. I was just thinking.” you respond. 

“About?” 

“Um, what we’re doing.” 

“We’re cuddling, silly.” Satoru responds, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your forehead. 

“I know. But what does that mean?” 

Satoru brings his hands up around your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands as he smiles. 

“It means that I just had a really annoying fight with my dad. And I just want to hold you and not think about it.” he responds. 

“Oh. Okay, yeah.” 

You burrow yourself back into his arms, the two of you a mess of tangled limbs as you hold onto each other. And you’re not sure why you start talking, but you’re filling the silent space with your voice. 

“I saw Sukuna the other day.” you murmur. 

Satoru brings his hands down, rubbing into the side of your arm as he hums in response. 

“Was it okay?” 

“Kind of stupid.” you murmur. 

“Why?” he asks. 

“He came up to me to ask if I was going to go to the end of year banquet that they hold for the seniors going into the masters program.” 

“And?” 

“I mean, I was planning on it. And then he just felt the need to warn me that he’s bringing his new girlfriend and it was really awkward. He asked me if I was bringing anyone and I said no, just for him to smile in response and then walk away.” 

“You should have said you were bringing me.” 

“I wasn’t aware that I was bringing you.” 

“Well, now you are. Plus, my dad…he always gets on my back to go to shit like that since he’s one of the donors. At least now I’ll have something to do there.” 

“And what’s that?” 

“Annoy you!” he responds. 

You reach forward to flick the side of his cheek, before reaching forward to push the hair off of his forehead. The touch must be somewhat soothing to him, because it coaxes him to talk, in the slightest. 

“When I was a kid, my dad forced me to go to events like that. All the time. And when I was there…he’d always yell at me for all these different things. My hair was too messy, I wasn’t standing right, I was too loud.” 

You brush your thumb on the skin of his cheek, before reaching forward to press a kiss to his skin. 

“And after I kind of figured it all out, I was so…irritated that I ever listened. And I’ve tried to stamp it out, that voice telling me to be quiet all the time. But sometimes when I see him…I don’t know. It just comes flooding back.” 

You prop your hands up against his chest, resting your head on top of your hands as you look down at him. His eyes are shut as he faces your ceiling, a hand resting behind his head while the other one is secured, firmly around you. In the ray of sunlight peering out of your window, you notice that Satoru has the smallest patch of freckles around his nose. 

“I always wondered why you were like that. But somehow, this makes it better.” 

“Huh?” 

“You were always so…you that sometimes it made me jealous. That you had this unstoppable, vibrant spirit, that you probably had life so easy that no one had stamped it out of you.” 

You reach forward, tracing the skin on his cheek, as you continue to talk. 

“But this is better. Someone tried to do that to you and you didn’t let them. You’re not weak or timid like me, you don’t let people like that shut you up like I do.” 

“You’re not weak or timid.” he responds, cupping the side of your face. 

“Satoru.” 

“You’ve always stood your ground. Especially when it comes to me.” 

“Well, you’re you. Sukuna is…” 

“Nothing. You can handle an idiot like Sukuna. And I’ll be there, if he tries to say anything to you and you need me.” 

You halfheartedly nod. 

“And I’ll be there. If you want to annoy me instead of talking to your dad.” 

“I’ll take you up on that offer. Always.” 

--

Satoru presses a kiss to your cheek before running out the door, late for his class. And when you turn on your heel, you find Suguru giving you a wide smile, with an almost teasing look on his face. You glare in response, moving past him to do the dishes. 

“Do you need something, Suguru?” 

“Are you guys dating?” he asks, resting his chin in his hands as he gives you a jeering smile. 

“What’s it to you?” you ask. 

“My best friend…my roommate…seems like a very big deal to me.” 

“Well, we’re just talking. I don’t know if it’s official, but I think it’s exclusive.” you respond. 

“It’s definitely exclusive. He’s liked you for a while.” 

You snort, as he comes up at your side and starts drying the dishes. 

“No, I’m serious! I promise, he’s not coming around this much just to see me. And I’m sure you’ll make him very happy. Keep him in his place.” 

“That’s what he said.” you murmur, smiling. 

“Just, don’t get too heated if you guys get into an argument. You’re both the most stubborn people I know, but don’t let that get in the way of anything.” 

“Okay, I’ll definitely take relationship advice from someone who pathologically lies to his girlfriend everyday.” 

Suguru yanks on the edge of ear and you splash a good amount of dishwater at him in response as you both laugh. 

“I’ll have you know, that I told her almost like two days afterwards because I couldn’t stomach it.” 

“Huh? Why didn’t you tell us?” 

“It was just funny watching you guys try to be nice to each other. And then Hiromi was dead set on matchmaking the second she figured out Gojo was all but in love with you.” 

You roll your eyes at him in response, as you turn out to walk to the coffee shop before your next class. And as you march to the coffee shop, music blaring in your headphones, you feel a tugging on your elbow as you almost walk in. 

You turn around to find an older man, with blue eyes and light hair, smiling at you. And as you tug your headphones off and hear him talk, you know without a doubt that this has to be Satoru’s father. 

“Are you Y/N L/N?” he asks, his hands folded perfectly against the crisp pressing off his suit. 

“Sure. Who are you?” you ask, yanking your headphones off so they're resting around your ears. 

“I’m Satoru’s father.” 

“Oh, okay. Can I help you?” you asked, running through your thoughts as you think of what Satoru would want you to do most. 

Walk away? Be polite? Insult him? 

Insulting him is surely what you want to do. But knowing him, he wouldn’t even want you to talk to him for a second, so you should try your best to abort the conversation in its tracks. 

“I’d like to talk to you about your intentions. With my son.” he responds. 

“I'd love to do that. But I have to run to class, so I’ll have to go now.” 

“Class? What’s your major?” 

“Education.” 

That must not be the answer he wanted, because he stiffens his jaw before talking again, which just builds onto another reason that this man irritates you. 

“Right, well. I’ll be off then.” you respond, trying to move past him. 

“Are you dating my son?” 

“Not yet. But I think it’s headed that way.” you respond. 

“Well, if you’re so intent on attending your class, here’s my phone number. I’d like for you to call me the second you’re out of your class so we can discuss more.” he states, handing you a shiny piece of cardstock. 

You begrudgingly take it, shaking his hand as you all but sprint off to your class. But unbeknownst to you, Satoru was watching the entire thing play out from the window, with an ice matcha latte in hand just for you. 

He trashes the cup as he walks out. He’s always thought matcha was disgusting anyways. 

And three days later, you find Satoru in the library. In what might possibly, the most compromising of situations. 

You’re a few weeks out from finals, the banquet at the end of the week, and buried with term papers that you need to write. Hence the need to procure your matcha latte, lock yourself in the library for the rest of the week, until you can go to the event with Satoru and let loose before you go home for break. 

Except when you’re trekking through the library looking for a place to study, you find that a really large group is populating your usual prime spot near the window, with the big white board that you like to use. 

But even more jarring than the stupid white board and spot you’re comfortable in, it’s who is taking up the spot. Because Sukuna and his friends are taking up the entire face and there’s a certain white haired idiot sitting all the way at the end, headphones over his ears as he types away on his laptop. 

And you can hear your blood rushing in your ears as you walk up to him, all but yanking the headphones off your ears. 

“Hi Satoru.” 

“Hi Y/N.” he seethes back, matching the anger in your voice. 

“I got you a drink, asshole.” 

He looks down at your matcha latte, before looking back up at you and rolling his eyes. 

“Always intent on not listening to me, aren’t you?” 

“I learned from the best, asswipe.” you respond, marching off to the apartment and fighting down the angry tears that are falling out of your eyes. 

--

With the load of finals behind you and the quietness that populates your apartment, you find yourself begrudgingly dragging yourself to the banquet. And curse yourself for letting Satoru convince you, for already putting in an RSVP so early that now you can’t take it away. 

The room’s uncomfortably warm, the masses of people moving around each other, cheeks blushed pink from the drinks and flutes in all of their hands. You swipe one off of the tray as someone walks past, intent on filling that cold, awkward feeling in your chest with whatever warmth it can give you. 

You take a spot near the corner of the room, a nice vantage point from where you can spot, eye who you can talk to first. Your partner from your English class is stuck talking to your professor, which is frankly a bleak option. 

There’s the group of girls from your cohort, but they’re all talking to Sukuna and his girlfriend, which is a big no for you. And you’d love to talk to your advisor, but you’re positive occupying the solo spot on the wall is better than talking to the one professor that everyone hates. 

And you spot Satoru, his white hair stark against the crowd, as he talks to Hiromi and Suguru. He’s all dressed up, his tie loose around his neck and the top buttons are undone. You suppose that’s as well as Satoru can present for an event like this anyways, and your heart stings at the premise.

Because there's nothing you want to do more than point it out. That everyone’s dressed up, but he can’t even be bothered to put himself together for this. And you want him to argue back, to sport that stupid shit eating grin he always uses when he argues with you. 

It’s irritating. How much it’s killing you to not be with him. 

You pull down the edges of your dress, trying to soothe through the creases that are lining on your green dress, as you try your best to stop that tense, uncomfortable feeling from settling in your skin. 

On the most annoying cue ever, Sukuna walks up to stand by your side, two drinks in his hand. He gestures for you to take one, which you oblige, as you swallow the irritation on your tongue as he starts talking. 

“Y/N.” 

“Sukuna.” 

“Did you poison my drink? Or are you morally above attempted murder?” 

“I believe I am.” 

“Shocking, given your track record.” 

“Are you here alone?” he asks. 

“What’s it to you?” 

“It’s just that you RSVP'd for two people. Yet you’re the only one standing here.” 

“Are you stalking me now?" you ask, eyeing him.

“Maybe a little bit. I was just curious to see who it was you were seeing now.” 

“What’s it to you?” 

“Just have to make sure that they take care of you. That’s all.” he states, shrugging

You roll your eyes, putting a sizable amount of distance between you two. 

“That’s rich coming from you. Leaving me without a place to live is a real gesture of compassion, Sukuna.” 

“Well, I think that-” 

A girl, with short brown hair cuts the two of you off, as she excitedly points to the wallpaper above you. 

“You’re both standing under the mistletoe!” 

You look up, to find a small lock of the plant above the two of you, as you fight the urge to internally groan. 

“Right, well. That’s my cue to leave.” you respond, setting the glass down on the table. 

Sukuna wraps his fingers around your wrist, pulling you into him as you stumble on the edge of your heels. 

“It’s just mistletoe. You have to honor it or that’s like…really shitty luck.” he states, giving you a smile.

“I’ll take my chances. It couldn't possibly be worse than this.” 

“Look. I really hate being on bad terms. You were really important to me and I hate to think that you’re out there being mad at me.” 

“Right, well. Get used to being disappointed then because I’m clear on where I stand.” you respond. 

You make the motions to move again, as Sukuna yanks you back again. Except this time, Satoru’s at your side, nearly shoving him into the wall. He gives you a look, devoid of any emotion, as he adjusts his tie around his neck. 

“You’re not going to kiss her.” he states, teetering on the edges of his heels. Like he’s almost bored, so disinterested in the conversation that he’s having with Sukuna right now. 

“I was just joking. It wasn’t that serious, I wouldn’t even consider it honestly.” he states, as the words sting your ears. You don’t know whether to be relieved, offended, or extremely agitated by the premise of his comment. 

“You’d be so lucky.” he snorts, as you swallow hard. 

“Right. We are talking about the same girl, right?” he sneers. 

Satoru groans, looking up to the sky, before taking his jacket off and handing it to you. You give him a confused look, to which he smiles, before turning back to Sukuna. 

“Rather unfortunate that you chose to mess with the wrong girl. That and the fact that I have no semblance of manners when it comes to these types of things.” 

And then Satoru swings straight for his nose, wincing and shaking his knuckles in the air as Sukuna slams into the wall behind him. There’s a loud gasp, head turning to look at the three of you as you swallow hard. There’s a small amount of bright, red blood falling out of his nose as Satoru gives him a shit eating grin. 

“Thanks for holding it.” Satoru states, taking the jacket from your hands as the two of you watch Sukuna walk off into the side. 

“Right, well-” 

“Satoru.” 

The two of you turn around to find his father, nose flaring and undoubtedly mad, as he appears at your side. Satoru storms out of the room, agitated, as you follow and run behind him. The air outside is significantly colder, snow sticking to the concrete. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, the air so cold that you can see your breath in the air. 

“Yes. Are you?” he asks back, turning around to look at you. He’s kicking the tiny flakes of snow in the ground, averting eye contact with you as he talks. 

“Yeah. Now, I can yell at you.” you respond, shoving him. 

“What’s your problem?” 

“What’s yours?” he asks back, seething. 

“You. You ignored me for like two days and then I found you in the library being all buddy buddy with Sukuna. And then you punch him in the face for no reason?”

“It wasn’t for no reason.” 

“Right. Your hand just jerked through the air and just happened to hit his face.” 

“What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry?” 

You groan, bringing your hands up through your temples, as your frustration comes to a head. 

“Why are you pretending this is nothing? Like we're nothing?” you scream, tears burning your eyes at you look at him. 

“When did I say this was nothing?” 

“’m fucking dying over here to be the person standing next to you, because there’s nowhere else I want to be, and instead I’m standing in the corner trying to avoid you like the plague.” 

His eyes twitch, his hands almost fidgeting at your sides as you angrily wipe your tears off your cheeks and smudge the makeup pressed to your face. 

“You…you’re so fucking aggravating. You’re mean to me, then you’re nice. You act like you love me, but then you don’t. Your best friend tells me that I basically mean the world to you and then your stupid dad ambushes me outside a coffee shop and basically insults me but-” 

“What?” he states. 

“What? I just like…don’t know what page you’re on. You make no fucking sense, you’re so..so hot and cold with me instead of just telling me what’s going on. If you didn’t like me anymore, you should have just said that instead of hurting my feelings.” you state, crossing your arms as you turn back from him. 

He comes up at your side, eyes wide as he looks down at you. He quickly takes his jacket off, wrapping it around your shoulders as the tears stream down your eyes. 

“What did my dad say to you? Was it at the coffee shop?” he whispers, hands braced on your shoulders. 

“Huh? How’d you know that?” 

“Just, tell me.”

“Well, I was going to get my latte. He kind of pulled me aside. Asked me what my intentions were with you. Made some weird backhanded comment about me being an education major and-” 

“And?”

“Gave me his business card. Told me to call him because I kept trying to leave. I think I threw it in a trash can or something.” 

Satoru groans, leaning his forehead against your shoulder, as he curses. 

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.” he murmurs, eyes pinched in regret as he lifts his head back up. 

“What?” 

“Shit. I-I got mad at you. For talking to my dad, behind my back and not telling me. I thought…he was asking you for information about me and you were obliging. That you took his card so you could call him.” 

“You watched that entire thing?” 

“Yeah. And I saw you shove the card into your pocket as you walked away and I just got so angry that I-” 

“That you what?” 

“Hung out with Sukuna. To make you mad.” 

You glare at him, shoving him again for good measure. 

“You did what?” 

“I was upset! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to it was just that-” 

“You didn’t even think to ask me? You just had to be petty?” you scream, your frustration building. 

His eyes go wide, as he swallows hard. He burrows his hands into his pockets, lifting them from your shoulders as he casts his head down. You can tell that his skin is burning, it’s turning slightly pink, as you realize that the reason the two of you weren’t here together, stupidly laughing at everyone, was because of a simple miscommunication. 

“Satoru.” you groan, lifting your hand to your forehead. 

“Y/N. I’m so sorry.” 

“In what world was that fair to me? You didn’t even think to ask?” 

Satoru takes both of your hands in his, lifting them up to cover his eyes with. Your knuckles are flat against his forehead, the ends of his hair tickling your skin. 

“Y/N. I’m so shit at this type of stuff. You’re far too put together for me.” 

“I’m not expecting you to be put together. Just to kind of…work with me here.” you murmur, as he rests his head against your frame again. You’re wrapping your arms around his torso, deflating into his touch. 

“Yeah, well. All I know how to do is fight and-” 

“If you say you’ll love me rather than fight with me, I’ll forgive you.” 

“Huh?” 

“Just promise. That you’ll try to love me. And forgive me before you turn to fighting.” you murmur, cupping his face in your hands. 

“Y/N. I-” 

“You have so many walls that I’m trying to break through. Just try to work with me here when I’m trying to do it.” you whisper. 

“There you go. Doing that thing again.” 

“Doing what?” 

“Seeing the best in me. Making me want to be better.” 

You smile, leaning your head to the side. 

“Is that so bad?” 

“No. No, just. Try to be patient with me? I know I’m really shitty at this type of thing but-” 

“As long as you stick around. And don’t ignore me for five days like a fucking asshole, I promise I will.” 

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to the palms of your hands still secured around his face, as he leans his own forehead against yours. 

“Okay. Just, give it to me straight when…when I do stuff like this.” 

“Okay. I hate it when you’re stupid as fuck and jump to conclusions. Like genuinely, it’s really irritating that I spent all of finals week sleeping in my bed alone when it was obscenely cold and you weren’t there. And you just had to assume shit when you didn’t-” 

“Okay, I get it. Get to the good parts now.” 

“Ego-maniac.” 

“Cmon. I’m wounded here.” he states, holding his bruised hand up to you. You take it in yours, pressing a kiss to the red skin before continuing. 

“I like when you talk to me. And when we get to keep moving forward, past this type of stuff. It’s like…the best part of a story. You get to see the conflict be resolved and then keep going.” 

He smiles hard, nodding at your words. 

“You have to kiss me.” he states. 

“Why?” 

“I’m going to pretend I’m not offended by that heinous look on your face at the thought of kissing me. But, mistletoe.” 

You look up, to find a set of tiny Christmas lights with little embellishments in them, one of which is mistletoe. 

“That doesn’t count.” 

“Yes, it does.” 

“That’s not real mistletoe.” 

He pouts, rolling his eyes at you. 

“Fine. Don’t kiss me then.” 

You wrap your hand around his wrist, yanking him down by the tie to press a kiss to his soft, warm lips. They’re enough to warm up your frozen, nearly frostbitten blue ones, as he shakes his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and smiling into the kiss. 

And you take solace in the fact that at least for that night, the conflict is over. And the story continues.

--

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist:

@porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg

lmk if you would like to be added to the taylor as gojo taglist or my general taglist <3

#seeingivywrites! #taylor as gojo #satoru #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #satoru fluff #gojo fluff #jjk fluff

[muniimyg]

kimi's comfort fics (2023)

note: these fics are pretty "old" since most of the writers are no longer active or the fics have been posted years ago.. BUT !!! some are recent with active writers so i would 100% recommend u check out their other works nd send them love !!! that being said, i did not link the stories but i did link the writers 🫡 this way u can check out their other works nd blog in general 💅🏼✨

nevertheless, they are all masterpieces that have heavily inspire my work nd personal life because i am delulu 24/7 <3 this list consists of my core comfort fics like... y’all don’t even fcking know how much i love them

‼️ for the most part, all of these fics imply mature content !!! minors dni ‼️

smau recs

@firebettercallnct

color of your shirt (kth)

cuffed (knj)

stay and cook (jjk)

stole your shirt (jjk)

went through your phone (jjk)

these fics were the ones that made me absolutely fall in love with smaus. smt abt the style nd way the plot seamlessly depict a beautiful and lighthearted aura... ugh, it jus gets me every mfking time </3 

@kimnjss

be my baby (myg)

cyberslut (myg)

kinda hot (kth)

cherry pickers (jjk)

plot twist (knj) 

i think kez is a mastermind nd i’ve always admired her constant updates nd organization! have u seen her taglist? BRUH i could never :’) these fics rlly made me feel BUTTERFLIES i don’t know how else to describe the way kez makes these works so fcking interesting every time

headcanons

@jungshookz

stuck with you (kth)

suit & tie (myg)

hellish (myg)

basketball!captain (myg)

baby, you can drive my car (myg)

beauty & the bookworm (knj)

these headcanons literally give the serotonin boost i need. they hit so mfking good nd the energy is jus 10/10

fic recs

series and drabbles by @noteguk

bad influence: collection (jjk)

any way you want (kth)

house rules (jhs)

for science (jhs)

let me tell u... these fics were a CULTURAL RESET. god bless them nd tHE WAY NALA IS BACK??? hello. i love u so much. thank u for creating such breath-taking stories with ur incredible writing... u’re insanely talented nd i look forward to more of ur work… like fuck,, i’m so shy rn 👉🏽👈🏽

series and drabbles by @yoonpobs

with you (ksj)

back-burner (myg)

ice skating and holding hands (myg)

cold (pjm)

i absolutely went ✨ I N S A N E ✨ for back-burner yoongi. i was literally taking an accounting class (which i failed nd i have never failed anything in my life) nd thursday aka back-burner update day would literally be my motivation to mfking LIVE. i love the underlying nostalgia in these works.. i literally don’t know who i would be without these fics (i’m downplaying how much i love them arghh)

series and drabbles by @1kook

skirt chasers (jjk)

netflix & chill (jjk)

dreamy (pjm)

absolute icons. literally so well written, it’s unforgettable !!!

series and drabbles by @h0neypjm

confident (jjk)

for practice (kth)

homie hopper till i die (pjm/kth)

these are the ones that... make me feel some type of way... like… 🦋⚡️❤️‍🔥 way… yk?

series by @floralseokjin

the devil wears armani (ksj)

crystallised saga (ksj)

please be naked (myg)

i think these fics stabbed me in the heart nd the wound never healed. that’s the best way i can put it... i love anything jordan writes but these... these are litereally the bane of my existance. crystallised has so much depth in it nd i honestly feel like i’m in the story with the characters.. i’ve never experienced desperation until i read the devil wears armani because wHAT THE FUCK... pbn is... yeah. let’s just stop here..... 😪

series by @btssmutgalore

nude (kth)

bicker (kth)

benefits (pjm)

🫶🏻 ok. we need to have a conversation about nude. NUDE HAS RUINED MY LIFE. yk why? because the same way it grasps my heart,, it breaks nd makes it new. literally. like mfker rlly said “whatever u say goes” bITCHJFKJSLS IM CRYING IN THE CLUBBBBBB 🫣

series by @personasintro

mutual help (jjk)

my tiny secret

i read mh while it was jus starting.. to see how much it progressed nd how many ppl read it now is mindblowing! my tiny secret was the first ever bts fanfic i ever read... so.... YESSSS

series by @gukslut

rattled (jjk)

oh my god. this has to be my ultimate comfort fic. i’ve never read something so original nd heartbreakingly beautiful. the gradual build nd the way each character experiences nd works thru their issues... chefs kiss... i read this fic at least once a month to remember what love feels like 🥹👊🏽

drabbles by @jeonqkooks

just friends (jjk)

angel baby (jjk)

the moon, and all the stars (jjk)

this is how you fall in love (jjk)

i always see jen sharing her thoughts on my work... but bro... let me mfking tell u... her work speaks for itself. i’m so in love......

drabble by @jungkxook

let’s play: dirty (jjk)

THIS ONE IS SUCH A FUN READ. i need it injected into me tbfh. i always reread it when i’m feeling down

drabble by @angelgukks

pu$$y fairy (jjk)

can not be beat. mfking love this drabble fr

i also want to take the time to express my deepest love nd thank u to the writers who have left this platform. to the writers who have moved on nd left us with memories of their work; ur efforts nd storylines will remain in my heart forever <3

i esp loved a lover’s kiss by @hueseok​ . 

copyright © 2023, muniimyg on tumblr.  

#ask muni #🌱: kimi writes #bts social media au #bts fic #bts fake texts #bts fic rec #bts angst #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts smut #bts series

[gojou-violin]

Hey Rhys! Hope you're doing well hehe

Lemme cut right to the chase as you're the resident sub writer here, I come to u with this idksjdikesj

We as a society need subby overstimulated Nagi Sei we really do

I leave it in ur hands to feed us something I trust ur work (;´༎ຶ◡༎ຶ`)

I mean if u're like in the mood to write if not just ignore this lmao

hello!!! i'm so glad i can be everyone's resident sub writer lmaoooo cuz i agree, i think we as a society need subby overstimulated nagi *evil laugh*. oh, the things i would do to ruin him.......

tw: 18+ only. somno. mommy kink. overstimulation. palming. whiney, pathetic nagi.

Nagi lazily bucked his hips. "Mommy, what're you..." His eyes were still closed as he bucked again at your touch. "Mommy," he moaned tiredly.

You slowly continued to jack him off, gently gliding your hand up and down his shaft while watching him carefully. Some time in the morning, as you'd gotten up to get ready for the day, Nagi started having a dream that resulted in small whimpers and air humps with a "Mommy, more..." every so often. When you'd gone back to check on him, Nagi was sprawled out on the bed, his hand buried in his pajama pants to hold onto his erection. He wasn't moving or anything like that. No, Nagi was too lazy for even that while he was asleep; but you could tell that he needed something with how desperately he was fucking his hand and the air during his dream. How could you deny your sweet boy? So you set to helping him by sliding back into bed, replacing his hand in his pants with your own. Nagi hardly noticed. He moaned at the touch, but he didn't stir.

"Oh, my poor boy... Are you dreaming about me?"

The longer it went on, though, Nagi began to wake up slightly, his eyes fluttering until they were half-lidded while looking up at you, his brows furrowed. When he realized that it was your hand on him, he moaned again and asked what you were doing.

"Taking care of you, baby," you answered.

His eyes closed again to let you know that you were free to do with him as you pleased.

With no protests from Nagi, you happily pushed his pants down so that you had clearer access to what you were working with, before jerking him off faster and harder, realizing that you didn't have long until you had to leave-- And with how distracting he'd been, you'd completely run out of time to get ready. It was a shame. But he was always more important.

"'m close," he warned quietly.

You leaned down to kiss his sharp jawline. "Let go for mommy, baby. It's okay. You don't have to worry about a thing."

Nagi grabbed the sheets weakly as his stomach tensed and his body froze up entirely. HIs orgasm hit him suddenly. With an abundance of whines and whimpers, he squeezes his eyes shut and started cumming all over his chest. You raked your nails done his stomach to his pubic bone as it happened. Nagi's eyes shot wide as he bucked.

"Mommy--"

Your hand pushed his hips back onto the bed.

"Fuck, thank you, Mommy, thank you, fuck, fuck--"

As his orgasm passed, he relaxed again, his eyes falling shut once more. Like usual, Nagi was expecting you to clean him up while he went back to sleep and you continued to get ready for work; but alas, you had other plans in mind. If he was so inclined to dream of you at night, you'd give him something to dream about all day while you were gone. So you didn't stop. You kept jerking him off with one hand while you brought the other to lay your palm flat on his tip, rubbing back and forth to overstimulate the most sensitive part of his dick.

Suddenly he was up.

Nagi jolted upright, grabbing at your wrists to make you stop, but you stared him down as a warning to go back to sleeping and let you be because you knew what was best for him— You’ve always known. But he couldn’t give in. He was sitting there squirming, biting his lip while trying desperately to catch his breath because he knew that he had to endure it. He knew that you wouldn’t stop ‘til you’re content.

“Mommy, please!” he begged so pathetically. “Please, please, please!”

“Please, what?”

“I can’t—“ He slumped on his back. “It’s too much.”

You slowed your hands gently before coming to a stop. “Good boy.”

He blushed at the praise. “If you wanted me to wake up, you could have just said so.”

“That’s not as fun.”

You leaned down to lick the cum off his stomach. He whimpered at the warm, wet touch that run along his midriff.

taglist: @aylitgirl , @sailewhoremoon , @justanotherpasserby-blog , @lyteatus , @bakugosgorl , @unknownspecies

#op #ask #fanfic #drabble #blue lock #nagi #mahi #blue lock smut #blue lock fanfic #blue lock imagine #nagi smut #seishiro nagi smut #nagi seishiro smut #nagi seishiro #seishiro nagi

[bowieandqueen11]

Not Just A Trinket / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: hi! ur writing is EVERYTHING btw. ur an amazing writer. you mentioned you wanted to write for izzy hands again and i have a request– feel free to ignore if it's not what ur looking for :) maybe izzy hands x reader where the reader has a small gift for him (a little trinket, a beaded crystal bracelet– something they made for him) but they're WAY too anxious to give it to him because they're scared he won't like it so they end up just carrying it around, trying to build up the courage to give it to him pfft

AHHH thank you so much my lovely, that's so sweet of you, and so is this idea!!! :3 Also I know I'm a little early in the timeline mentioning Davy Jones but I like to think of Izzy as a trendsetter ;)

Warning: mentions of fighting/ injury and strong language, some sexual innuendo!

(I do not own OFMD or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @nadsdraws.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Izzy Hands was beginning to detest feeling like this.

He would rather charge sword first at a horde of raging Englishmen: would prefer to scrabble and scrape and scratch through the eye sockets of thousands of the Spanish with naught but his bloodied fingernails. Hell, even grovelling under the sole of the snivelling wreck that now possessed his former boss like a twisted nightmare, a horrid regret, would be preferable. If his hand wasn't too firmly attached to tangled rope of one of the shrouds in a death grip, if his glove wasn't close to bursting at the seams with how tightly he was gripping, he had half a mind to draw his dagger out of its scabbard and gouge his heart out right there and then.

He looked furious. So much so, that Roach was quick to side step him as he hopped down the steps with fresh sewing materials in his hand, giving a final look back at the intent man who only bared his teeth at the cook in response. Valuing his life, or at least the ability to keep all his fingers, if the sight of the keen blade being twisted between Izzy's free fingers told him anything, Roach is quick to recoil back and raise a concerned eyebrow in Wee John's direction. He in turn just rolls his eyes and lowers his head back to his sewing, but the rest of Stede's crew are astute enough, from where they're lingering around the deck, to notice the thick tension brewing like cold shivers of electricity in the air. Even Jim and Oluwande were giving each other side eyes, pausing their hammering at the helm to dart their eyes to their side and trace the path of Izzy's line of sight.

It never wavered. Every time they looked, it never changed. He had spent the last two hours gaping sourly towards the edge of the quarter deck. Gawking solely at you, without a single movement, without a single flicker outside the bubble where you hunched.

You thought he was angry at you for arranging a special outing for Ed and Stede at Datura Grotto, finally indulging in finding a way for them to spend some time alone after your Captain had begged and hounded you for days; he had become so accustomed to bursting through doors trying to find you and ask for your help, that the poor daunted man nearly burst into tears when he smashed your bedroom door into your nose and nearly broke it. The rest of the crew believed he was plotting something: trying to pick out the quieter members of their friends first, as payback for being stuck on this so called 'straight out of Davy Jones' arsehole' of a ship for so long.

Izzy, though. Izzy knew he was smitten. And he fucking hated it. He hated feeling so vulnerable.

Out of all the crew members still pretending to mill about, only Lucius was daring enough to purse his lips and look brazenly back at Blackbeard's first mate. Only Lucius, in fact, was feeling equally brave, and equally vexatious that fine afternoon to muster up the courage to slide up beside him. 'Someone in a bad mood today, are we?'. He taps the ships railing with the point of his nail, the broom he had been pretending to sweep splintered pieces off the floor a moment ago soon forgotten about as he leans it against the side of the ship. He replaces the loss by dropping his hand to his hip, cocking his head and smiling at an increasingly agitated looking Izzy. 'Would it have anything to do with that fine young sea farer over there by any chance? How romantic, Dizzy Izzy. Oh, I do love a good fix-me-up-'

Oh, he was enjoying this.

Izzy's quick to snap, not even bothering to look in Lucius' direction. 'Fuck off, before I do you a favour and cut that little seducing tongue out of your mouth for you.' Lucius watches Izzy's fingers tighten into leather clad black balls on the rope ladder, and doesn't need a second warning to trot off back towards his friends again. With a final wide eyed look of shock, he turns back to Black Pete and shrugs, holding his hands up as if to say that he tried his best.

All the while, you just keep your gaze steady out and onto the brewing horizon of the sea, watching as foam shook out like reaching hands around your ankles as they across cut through the wave crests, only the salty sting of thrumming silence keeping you company underneath his watchful gaze. The beaded necklace you had spent the last week or so threading together, carefully crafted by trembling fingers and a bit tongue during long evenings spent in your hammock, was beginning to feel like an anchor weight in your pocket. You tried to distract yourself with mundane, idle chit chat with a very thankful Lucius, who had swung over to your side after Pete convinced him to go scouting out for some more gossip. Swinging his legs between the latches of the port quarter, he merrily took the hammer you were idly holding from your hand and began to 'fix up the ship', his wrist barely moving as he turned to you with a scheming smile.

'So, do you know what's going on then? Why Izzy's acting like this? I swear, that man. If he doesn't bend over right now and try to get that stick out of his arse, he's going to be a miserable sad sack of repressed irritation forever. He's like a jack in the box. I swear to god, I'm just waiting for him to burst.' The tone of his voice sounds almost worried, but Lucius is smiling and waggling his eyebrows the whole while. 'That would be kind of funny, actually. I've always imagined him as a stamper. Or maybe a screamer-'

You have no idea what to say, not understanding Lucius' oh so unsubtle hints, so you just run your fingers over the bulge in your pocket once more and chime in to his rant from time to time with a disinterested 'hmm' or distracted 'oh, yeah. Definitely.' It really didn't help that you were beginning to blush the same champagne hue as the bubbles between your toes with how gravely Izzy was staring at the side of your face. It was growing increasingly harder not to give into the temptation: to not just swing your head around and meet his hard-set eyes head on.

Once he realises you're dead set on staying right there, away from him, hiding in the corner all day, he sighs and let's go of the sails, marching off to do another impromptu inspection of the boarded vessel. It's an easy distraction: yelling orders at Wee John, spitting insults at Roach as he scurries out of Izzy's way, stealing the Swede's cup out of his hand and spraying beads of coffee around Buttons' feet. All of it was a Grade A fantastic distraction, and Izzy was hell bent on forgetting just how quickly time had gone by that day: Ed and the moronic, sappy, massive twat of an arse Stede would be back from their foliage constitutional any minute now, and Izzy was acutely aware that he was running out of both minutes, and chances to ask you to take a walk with him on the island himself. He had spent far too much of the morning wasting away, leaning his back on Stede's antique armoire and watching you with crossed arms: like a weathered statue, the growing umbra he cast somehow seeming to reach its tendrils out and blanch the fringes of the doorway. Even Fang and Ivan had been too terrified to come near him, and so he had been left alone. A silent sentinel, trying to figure out why the fuck his heart was cracking against the cage of his ribs and tearing their ligaments to shreds.

You hadn't exactly made things any easier for the man: feeling so intimated, you had spent the whole morning begging your friends to whisk you away from him at the first sign of danger. Whether that meant ducking behind Frenchie's lute like a crab, or hiding like a bulky turtle under the large bit of crimson cloth Oluwande was fiddling with the tassels of, you had used any form of escape to save you from the embarrassment of having to be near him. To let him see how flustered you became just at the overwhelmingly intense pressure you felt in the air any time he swaggered over to your side: to hide the fact that your eyes would widen in abject horror, your breath hitching any time the back of his gloved hand would 'accidentally' brush against your wrist as he went on his merry way, pretending it was all by accident. That it was all just a little game to him.

Little did you know, that he was feeling exactly the same way. The one time he had dared to come over to you that day had been an unmitigated disaster. He thought he was being... well, as kind as he possibly could be by slapping you on the shoulder and saying 'how good of a job you're doing.' He was nodding his head between every word, that jilted, simpering smile on his face as he supplemented his sentiment with an incredibly heartfelt 'at least Y/n knows how to do a fucking thing on this ship, not like you lot of useless fucking fuckers they have to work with. The rest of you are embarrassing, really.' He went to walk away, the side of his wrist glancing against the back of your hand as he finished with a breathless 'you lot could learn a thing or two from Y/n.'

He had staggered away from you as if mortally wounded, tongue bitten between his teeth as he tried as nonchalantly as possible to make his way back to the stern of the ship. While you were busy trying to bury your head down into your chest and avoid the smirking faces of Lucius and Pete, you happened to notice from the side of your eye that with each step Izzy was ringing out his hand. To your surprise, he used his teeth to rip his glove off, tucking it under his armpit as he wrangled with his fingers; he couldn't stop every cell burning as if it had just been reeled under the bottom of the ship. Couldn't understand why his fingertips wouldn't stop shaking as he flexed them.

Lucius was right. He was about to erupt, and he wondered if he'd ever be alright again.

It took until the sun nearly bowing over the jaded unicorn surmounting the anterior of the Revenge for you to find the courage to finally slink away from your convenient hiding spot to go over to Izzy. Well, that and the feel of Lucius literally dragging you up by the wrist and giving you a well meaning shove in the back towards the helm.

'Oh, fuck me', Izzy hisses as he watches you approach, turning his back to you to hide how flustered he was becoming with each tugging step at his heart you take towards him. He nearly jumps high enough to fall face first off the side of the boat when he feels your hand tentatively tap his shoulder, but he manages to inhale sharply and compose himself as best as he can before he flicks his eyes to look at you.

'I-uh-', you swallow thickly, shakily drawing your hand away from him and tucking it behind your back. 'I-, uh. I, I mean, I-'. The two of you, a far change of pace from usual, can barely keep your eyes on each other.

You feel like throwing your shoe at Lucius when you register the all too familiar sing song-y chime of his voice murmuring 'say something!' from behind your back. 'Or I swear to god, I'll kiss the man for you!'

'Well, I-', you start again, shooting the most vicious glare you could strangle out of you back at your friend. With a final sigh, you continue: 'I saw your necklace, and I don't mean to pry- but since you're always wearing black, which of course is incredibly cool, I just- well, I thought it needed a burst of colour.' Without a second thought, you scramble to pull your makeshift necklace out of your trousers, and shove the glistening glass emeralds and burnished pearls into his fist.

'It's just a silly thing, really. I saw Stede fixing Ed's red fabric and I just thought... well, you don't have to wear it. It's just a trinket, it's stupid. Really, you don't have to wear it. I'm sorry-'. After a pause, the burning sensation is enough to make you turn on your heel and bashfully start to make a break for the Rec Centre, just to get as far away from him as possible.

'It's not just a trinket.' The softness of his tone, despite how harshly he sounds out the letters makes you swivel back in surprise. He takes the opportunity to take a step forward and grab onto your wrist. He tugs you closer, until you're standing dangerously close to him: if he were to inhale deeply now, to puff his chest out just a tenth of an inch, your belly buttons would be tightly pressed upon each other. You can already feel his buttons strain against your shirt as he whistles out through bunched teeth, the breath sharp and warm against the side of your jaw. 'Don't say that. Never say that. It came from you, so it's not-... just, don't say that.'

He blinks, slowly releasing his viper grip.

'I like it. I really do. Thank you.' He motions awkwardly with a flick of his fingers to the side of his neck. 'Would you mind? With the gloves, I'm... not very good with clasps. Haven't, haven't used one in a long time.'

You can't stop your head from nodding, feeling like a wound up spring toy as you unfurled his fingers again and took the gift back. With a final swallow, you try not to turn cerise as you gently roll down the collar of his shirt. It folds easily down over his vest, until your bare fingers are dragging over the naked line of skin on his neck, just teasingly hiding the tense muscles of his upper back.

'You really didn't have to do this for me, you know.'

'Yeah... but I wanted to. You're not as much of an arsehole as Stede tries to make out.' You manage out a giggle, before you're back to biting your bottom lip in concentration, brushing a few strands away from the back of his head.

He wants to say more, but his voice chokes in the back of his throat like rifting water, his mouth trembling as your fingers brush over the coiled grey hairs bristling at the nape of his neck. It feels like a red hot poker is being dragged across his skin; he shivers at the feeling, a tight coil rolling across his limbs before settling uncomfortably heavy in the pit of his stomach.

He looks like he's about to weep when you take a step back, reaching up with a final pat to make sure the little metal swallow that adorns the centre of your necklace is lying perfectly against his breast. You may have lingered there a little longer than necessary... long enough for your palm to begin burning against the firm muscle of his pec, and for Lucius to draw out an enunciated wolf whistle, but it was definitely worth it. Even the sound of Frenchie snickering from the barrel he was perched on down on the deck was drowned out by the thrumming toll in your ears: by the sound of Izzy's sharp breath piercing your ear as he wavered uneasily on the spot. He didn't want to move away from you, not yet. He could barely even hear them. For the first time in his life, he didn't even fucking care. All he could focus on, over the bridge of his nose - through the gentle curls of his tired eyelashes, was you.

He was intoxicated - but even worse, he was finally beginning to understand. By god, he wondered. What the fuck had you done to him? Could this really be what Edward feels? Could anyone, really, feel this much?

'I hear swallows are meant to bring good luck', you state with bated breath, fingering the charm you had picked up from a market stall at the Republic of Pirates for a final time. It had reminded you almost immediately of Izzy: a hidden treasure, glistening white-gold, like fresh sunlight flitting across the glitter combs littered across the sea beds. It had been well buried within piles of muck: old straw, rotten bits of moulding fruit, bloodied bones twisted into odd shapes that you could barely recognise, but it had been lying there. Waiting just for you. A needle in the haystack. The final piece of the puzzle.

Izzy's breath draws in sharply as you absentmindedly begin to brush your pointer finger up and up: tracing the edge of his jaw line before rolling over the same bird tattoo lacing his neck, your eyes still drawn to the gap between his shirt where his Adam's apple lay tautly.

'Yes. Very good luck', he states, amazed he even found his voice. Surprisingly, he doesn't even try to pull away. He lets you trace your finger over the beak, gliding across the round belly until they're dancing teasingly over its tail. In fact, without his wonderous, dipped eyes looking away from you, he seems to be tilting his head in time, allowing you easier access to brush against his skin and steal his soul with every movement.

Before he has time to think of the repercussions of what he was about to do, the leather of his gloves flex around your cheeks and Izzy Hands has bowed his back down over you, lips knocking against yours. It's terse, and rather urgent in its forcefulness; it was both a slip of outrageous passion, and a terse reminder of his years out of practice feeling any sort of physical affection, and yet you couldn't help but brush up even closer to the man. He welcomes you eagerly, even though this eternity lasted only a moment: with his thumb, he tilts the jut of your chin up so he can lick his tongue against your bottom lip all the more easily. His knee slides forward until it knocks against your own, lurching you forward and saving him the embarrassment of having to voluntarily admit to his weakness and slide his other hand around the pulse point of your neck, until he was cradling the bone of your shoulder.

He finally draws back, his tongue darting out to lick along the edge of his top lip. 'Yeah, very lucky indeed.' He seems sorrowful to be letting go of you, but the loud whistling and snorting that begins to bounce back and forth between Stede's crew snaps Izzy back to himself. With a final glance back down to your lips, he struts off to pick up Lucius' long abandoned broom and starts chasing him across the ship with it.

#our flag means death #ofmd #izzy hands #izzy hands imagine #izzy hands x reader #israel hands #israel hands imagine #israel hands x reader #lucius spriggs #edward teach #stede bonnet #ofmd imagine #izzy ofmd #izzy ofmd imagine #con o'neill

[weemssapphic]

Hi how are you? I hope well! so i really like your writing actually ur my fav writer here on tumblr ;). So i had this idea for a fanfic by Miranda Hilmarson x reader. It was about Miranda being a traffic cop sometimes too and then she ends up giving the reader a ticket in one day and the reader gets really mad and even fights with Miranda, and then they end up meeting again, but what Miranda didn't know was that the reader would be her new boss!! From there I leave it to you, it can even be an enemies to lovers, you know.

I just had this silly idea, maybe you'll like it and I'd be super happy if you wrote it.💗

another thing! English is not my language, I'm literally writing this through Google translator so if something seems strange to you, you already know ☠️

A/N: thank you sooo much, that is so kind of you! I really liked this request and enjoyed writing it - it's my first time writing for Miranda so I really hope it's okay <3 just gonna post this and go hide now ahhhh

not your fault

Words: ~7.4k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: slight enemies to lovers, mentions of Adrian Butler (ugh), reader has a temper - poor Miranda is on the receiving end, mentions of cigarettes and alcohol, employee-boss relationship, angry Miranda, but also adorable puppy Miranda, nsfw (smut) - vaginal fingering, cunnilingus

“Are you fucking kidding me…” You groaned under your breath as you snatched up the little piece of paper stuck between your windshield wipers - a parking ticket. You were already running late thanks to your cat having puked all over your carpet that morning, and thanks to the barista at the coffee shop who’d taken ages with your latte - and now you were going to be even later.

You whipped your head around, looking for the officer who’d given you the ticket. A tall, blonde woman in a police uniform was strolling down the line of parked cars, handing out tickets to each one. The officer turned as you stomped over, eyes widening as you advanced on her until you were standing right in front of her. You had to crane your neck up to look at her - in any other situation, you might have found this insanely arousing, but right now you were far too pissed.

“Care to explain this?” You waved the paper in her face - she went slightly cross-eyed as her eyes followed your movements. 

“Uh, that’s a parking ticket, ma’am.” The officer swallowed visibly, taking a step back.

“I park here every goddamn day,” you hissed.

“I’m sorry…” She seemed a bit dazed and distracted for a moment as she regarded you, her eyes darting between your own, before straightening her posture and clearing her throat. “There’s, uh, a festival downtown this weekend, they’ve closed most of the parking zones until it’s over. There’s a sign at the start of the road.” She nodded her head over to a single sign set up at the next intersection, one that you had clearly missed in your rush.

You were seething, a billion arguments ready on your tongue, but the clock was ticking - and in the end, she was right, no matter how pissed you were.

“You know what, fucking forget it. I’m already running late! Thanks for nothing.” You stomped back to your car and crumpled up the parking ticket, tossing it on the passenger seat and groaning in frustration - the officer stood rooted to the spot, watching as you drove away.

~~~

Not wanting to get a speeding ticket in addition to your parking ticket, you took your time driving to the police station for your first day on the job. You’d just moved to Sydney to replace Adrian Butler as he left his position to “focus on his marriage” - you hadn’t even started yet and had already heard rumors of his extramarital affair with a constable. Men are pigs, you thought as you strode into the station and took the elevator up to the third floor, half an hour later than you’d planned.

The room was buzzing when you walked in but as soon as you cleared your throat and made your presence known, everyone went silent.

“I’ll spare you all the usual ‘first day’ speech - you should know who I am. I’m sure we’ll all get to know each other well over the course of the coming weeks, but for now I already have my hands full with everything that Detective Sergeant Butler so generously left for me.”

Your eyes landed on an empty desk near the center of the room. “Who usually sits there? Are they out sick?”

Some of the men began to snicker - one in particular answered your question. “Oh, that’s Hilmarson.” He smirked and took a sip from his coffee mug as he leaned against the side of the copy machine.

You raised an eyebrow. “And? Where is Constable Hilmarson?”

The elevator doors opened behind you and you turned around, eyes widening as you were confronted with the tall, blonde officer who’d given you a ticket. Her own shocked expression mirrored yours.

“That’d be her.” The man - Constable Brown, you’d later come to learn - chuckled, his smirk widening.

“Constable.” You glared pointedly at Constable Hilmarson. “My office, now.”

She frowned and followed you to the small office at the side of the room. You closed the door behind her and took a seat behind your new desk, gesturing for the officer to sit. She scrambled rather clumsily towards the chair and sat down, looking like a child about to be reprimanded.

“Constable Hilmarson, is it? Miranda?” You regarded her carefully. Her cheeks were rosy with embarrassment, her eyes wide as saucers. And, God, were they blue. They were mesmerizing. Miranda bobbed her head up and down in answer to your question, a bit of her pale blonde hair falling in her eye. She raised a hand to her head, dragging long fingers through her hair to brush it back - you had to physically shake your head to stop yourself from getting distracted by her movements.

“I like to be prepared, Constable. So I was having a look at your file the other day, you see, and I was under the impression that you are currently on a homicide case with Detective Griffin. Or am I mistaken?”

“Yes - I mean, no, you’re not mistaken.” Miranda shook her head furiously. 

“Then pray tell, Constable - why on earth did you spend your morning handing out fucking parking tickets?” You couldn’t keep the venom out of your voice as you questioned Miranda - something about her was pissing you off (or maybe it was just the fact that you hadn’t even been able to drink your coffee yet), and you were having trouble reigning in your emotions.

Miranda’s face was bright red and her hands shook slightly. “I lost a bet,” she mumbled, unable to meet your gaze.

“Louder.”

She cleared her throat, her eyes locking with yours. “I lost a bet. I had to take over Constable Brown’s duties for the morning.”

You sighed, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose.

“I’m not here to play games. Do you understand that?” Your voice was sickly sweet, bordering on condescension - it was not lost on Miranda, who was starting to look like she wanted to argue.

Evidently, she thought better of it at the last second, for she simply nodded as she glowered at you.

“You’re here to do your job, not Constable Brown’s job. And I expect you to do your job well. So, seeing as you’ve not only made me late, wasted your entire morning, and wasted even more of my time with this silly conversation, I would appreciate it if you could get to work. Now.”

Miranda stood abruptly, sending a stack of papers flying from your desk as she stormed from the room. You rubbed your temples, wincing at the force with which she closed the door behind her - you were already starting to develop a headache, and it wasn’t even 10 am.

~~~

As the morning went on, you found yourself growing more and more agitated, unable to focus on anything. You realized as your stomach growled for the fourth (or was it the fifth?) time that, in your rush, you’d skipped breakfast. 

The second the clock hit 12 for your lunch break, you were on your feet. You’d have to work through much of your break to catch up, but you could afford to take a few minutes to grab a coffee and a granola bar from the vending machines in the lobby.

Passing by Miranda’s desk, you noticed that her chair was empty - the sight made your blood boil. You took a deep breath to calm yourself down - it was her lunch break, too, and she had every right to leave her desk during that time. Her messy, cluttered desk… You clenched your fists and headed for the elevator.

That wasn’t the only time her desk was empty, however. Throughout the afternoon, you would look up from your paperwork (you found that Adrian had been terrible at properly filing paperwork, making your job that much harder) every so often - and more times than not, the constable was nowhere in sight. With a frustrated sigh, you stood and strode over to open the window - you desperately needed the fresh air if you were going to make it home without strangling someone.

The sight of Miranda smoking a cigarette in the alley next to the station, just under your window, had you clenching your jaw, nostrils flaring. You couldn’t help yourself - you immediately headed towards the elevator and took rapid steps out of the station, rounding the corner and advancing on the constable, whose back was turned to you.

“Hilmarson!” you barked - Miranda flinched as she turned to face you.

“What did I do now? Am I not allowed to smoke or something?” She sounded agitated, and that made you even angrier.

“This is your fourth smoke break in the past two hours alone. If your habits are going to get in the way of your job, then I suggest you-”

“You know, you’re really stressing me out!” Miranda yelled back, gesticulating wildly as she spoke. “I’ll do my damned job, okay? You’re just really not making it easy.”

You laughed - it was hollow and sarcastic - and took a step closer to Miranda. Your face was inches away from hers now - this close, your eyes were drawn to her lips, soft and plush, trembling slightly with anger. A little scar adorned her top lip and your gaze lingered there for a moment, arousal pooling in your core - until Miranda brought the cigarette back to her mouth to take a drag.

Torn from your trance, you plucked it from her grip and dropped it to the ground, crushing it with your boot.

“Talk to me like that again and I’m sending you home for the rest of the day. Now get back upstairs.”

Miranda pushed roughly past you, her shoulder bumping into yours as she headed back into the station. You leaned against the wall and let out a loud groan, your eyes fluttering shut. Why was Miranda determined to make your day as difficult as humanly possible? 

With a heavy sigh, you opened your eyes and pushed off the wall, following the constable back inside.

~~~

Your second day on the job started out significantly better than your first. You managed to eat breakfast, get coffee, and make it to work on time, all without getting a parking ticket or arguing with a certain constable. Miranda had been at her desk when you’d walked past it and, mercifully, hadn’t said a word to you - though you could feel her eyes on you as you disappeared into your office.

When you left your office for your lunch break, you found the main office empty - you figured most of your officers were taking their lunch break as well. You strode over to the little kitchen, reaching for the handle when the door swung open in your face - your body colliding with a much taller one. You heard a gasp above you and looked up to see Miranda standing directly in front of you, eyes wide, mouth hanging open in shock.

It was then that you realized your shirt suddenly felt a bit wet - your eyes fell to the half-empty bowl in Miranda’s hand, then to your torso, which was covered in milk and little pieces of cereal.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me,” you growled, pushing past Miranda and ignoring the apologies that poured profusely from her mouth. You grabbed a fistful of paper towels and dabbed at your shirt, quickly realizing that it was no use - you’d have to get changed.

You spun around when you felt a hand on your arm, glaring up at Miranda who looked down at you apprehensively. At your furious expression, she pulled her hand away as if burned. “Do you need help?”

Sighing, you closed your eyes and attempted to reign in your temper. “No,” you grit out. “It’s fine, you’ve done enough. I just have to go home to get changed, I guess.”

“Well if you don’t have a shirt with you then you can borrow mine?”

Your eyes flew open, meeting Miranda’s soft gaze before flickering down to her torso. “W-what?”

“I mean, I have an extra shirt in my locker.” Miranda gestured back towards the elevator with her thumb, a faint smirk playing upon her lips - the fact that you had just basically ogled her chest was not lost on her, apparently.

You could feel your cheeks turn red and you looked down at your own shirt, clinging to your chest - it had turned slightly see-through, and you could see your bra through the thin fabric. The drive home would cost you your entire lunch break, and Miranda did owe you for this… You sighed heavily.

“Yeah, sure.”

Miranda smiled, her eyes lighting up and crinkling at the outer corners - it was the first time you’d seen her properly smile, and it was beautiful. She crossed the kitchen and peered out the door into the office.

“The coast is clear,” she said with a grin, gesturing for you to follow her. You rolled your eyes and the two of you headed down to the empty locker rooms.

“I always bring something to change into after work,” Miranda supplied as she busied herself with opening her locker. “It might be a bit big on you but at least nobody will be able to see your bra.”

You started to unbutton your shirt, feeling Miranda’s eyes on you as you did so. It was hard to focus with the constable in such close proximity - you struggled with the buttons as you found yourself growing more and more flustered.

“Here, let me help,” she murmured, and before you could stop her, her hands were on the buttons of your shirt. Her fingers brushed against the swell of your chest, just above the fabric of your bra, and you shivered visibly, your mouth going dry.

“T-thanks but I got it,” you mumbled, gently pushing Miranda’s hand away. “Could you turn around?”

Miranda furrowed her brow, her face flushing. “Oh, sorry!” She placed a baby blue t-shirt on the bench next to you, then turned and studied the bare wall with great interest as you got changed.

“You can turn around again,” you said, clearing your throat. Miranda did as she was told, her eyes getting stuck on your chest for a moment before meeting your gaze. Your anger had all but dissipated, replaced with an unfamiliar and somewhat unsettling tension as you looked at Miranda, your stomach flipping.

“Uh, thanks,” you whispered. “For the shirt.”

Miranda’s lips curled up into a smile. “Yeah, of course. You know, I’m really excited to have another woman on the force. Last night I was looking into your case in Auckland before you got promoted - I talked to Robin about it, even she was impressed.”

For once, you were left speechless. For all the crap you’d given Miranda since meeting her, she seemed so genuine and excited to be speaking with you in that moment - you could feel yourself get flustered again, and all you could do was nod your head as she spoke.

“Oh, my lunch break is over so I have to go meet Robin but, uh, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You nodded absentmindedly, stuck on the way Miranda’s hands moved as she spoke and the brightness of her eyes. She shot you one last grin before turning and taking long strides out of the locker rooms, leaving you to stand there in a daze, holding your wet shirt.

~~~

It was finally Friday and you’d been invited to go to the bar for drinks after work to celebrate the end of your first week - you stood in the lobby of the station, waiting for Robin to join your group before heading out. 

Since the little cereal incident, you were trying to actively avoid thinking about, looking at, or talking to Miranda, but she was making that damned near impossible. When you’d returned her shirt back to her, freshly washed, she made sure to allow her fingers to brush against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. She wasn’t at her desk much throughout the day, off investigating leads with Robin, and for that you were grateful - but every time you saw her desk, littered with empty takeout containers, paperwork, coffee mugs, you felt a twinge of annoyance, followed by a sinking feeling of guilt that you couldn’t quite place. As a result, you spent much more time than you wanted sitting at your desk, dissecting your feelings for the blonde but coming up empty.

The door to the station opened and a civilian walked in with a small goldendoodle on a leash. A gasp sounded to your right and you couldn’t help yourself - your eyes followed the sound just in time to see Miranda crouch down and extend her arms towards the dog, which jumped excitedly up at her, trying to lick her face. 

You couldn’t tell who was more excited about the interaction - Miranda, or the dog. The blonde was letting out little squeals of delight, cooing at the dog as she buried her fingers in its fur.

“Pull yourself together, Constable,” you grumbled, annoyed mostly at yourself for the way your stomach was reacting to the sight of Miranda cuddling the dog. It was childish and unprofessional… You most definitely did not think it was cute. Not even a little bit, no… You blushed and looked away as Miranda stood up, missing the look of disappointment in her puppy-like eyes.

After that, though, you found you couldn’t even enjoy getting drinks with your colleagues - your mind was going in circles and you were unable to shake off this weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. You sat at a booth near the back of the bar, nursing a beer as everyone around you joked around and slowly got drunk. 

You couldn’t keep your gaze from wandering towards Miranda, who was seated at the opposite end of the table. She sipped her beer, smiling occasionally at something one of the others said - your eyes, once again, got stuck on her smile. The upward quirk of her lips, the subtle scrunch of her nose, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. When she caught you staring, however, she quickly looked away, the smile sliding right off her face.

It affected you more than you would care to let on - as soon as her smile was gone, you wished for it back - desperately. And it was stupid, really - she’d somehow managed to sour your mood every single day this week, and yet your body was reacting to her in ways you hadn’t felt in a long time. With a sigh, you drained your beer and ordered a second one - this was going to be a long night.

~~~

If you’d thought your second week on the job would start better than the first, well - you’d quickly find out just how wrong you were.

Monday morning started like any other - you strode into the office with your coffee to-go cup, passing by Miranda’s empty desk. There was a half-empty bowl of cereal at the edge, stacks of manila folders and paperwork strewn over the surface, an empty, crumpled paper bag from the local bakery that had been tossed unceremoniously onto the computer keyboard. It stirred up a twinge of annoyance in you, but you tried your best to shake off the feeling.

Looking up and seeing the blonde standing at the coffee machine in the kitchen, you quickly averted your gaze and hurried to your office.

Your mind began to wander as you answered your emails and a flash of blonde through the window in your office caught your eye. Miranda walked back to her seat, a mug in her hand. She reached her desk and distractedly looked up, talking enthusiastically with Robin as she placed the mug down on a teetering pile of papers.

You looked on in horror as the pile slowly toppled over, spilling coffee all over her desk - you couldn’t bear to watch anymore, dropping your head into your hands in frustration as you heard Miranda let out a gasp.

Not my problem, you thought, trying to take steadying breaths. It wasn’t your desk that she’d spilled her coffee on, after all. 

You stood and made your way to your office door, calling out for Robin.

“Yeah?”

“Did you manage to get a copy of the autopsy results already? I really need them.”

Robin shifted slightly from foot to foot, a frown growing on her face - you really didn’t like the look of that.

“Actually, I sent Miranda to get them this morning.”

Raising an eyebrow, you looked past Robin at her colleague, who was frantically wiping up the spilled coffee from her desk. “Hilmarson, can I get those autopsy results?”

Miranda looked up, freezing in her movements. Her eyes darted between you and her desk and her cheeks were rapidly turning pink. “They, uh… Got a bit soggy.” She strode over to you with a piece of paper in her hand. You took it gingerly, a look of disgust forming on your face as the entire thing was brown and dripping wet.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” you growled. Miranda shrugged sheepishly and muttered out an apology - you glared at her in return. “I need you to get me a fresh copy by this afternoon.”

Miranda opened her mouth to speak but you interrupted her, balling your hand into a fist and crumpling up the paper, tossing it on her desk. “And tidy your fucking desk like a grown up,” you snarled.

Miranda’s face was red as she turned sharply on her heel and stormed out of the office, taking large strides towards the elevators and disappearing from view. 

“She grows on you,” Robin supplied quietly, watching you watch Miranda. You snorted.

“I doubt it.” Your stomach churned uncomfortably even as you said those words. Why did this woman have such an effect on you?

“She’s been having a rough time, ever since the breakup with Adrian.” Your eyes widened at this piece of information - you’d known about Adrian’s affair, of course, but you’d never thought it would be with Miranda. “They were going to have a baby together, you know.”

You coughed, choking on your own saliva. “They what?” You couldn’t picture Miranda as a mother - she was far too clumsy and chaotic… and goofy. And generous. Okay, maybe you could picture it, a little bit. Your stomach churned uncomfortably - you didn’t know the details of the affair, but breakups were rough - you’d moved across the country after your last breakup. You suddenly felt ashamed for being such a bitch to her. 

“Yeah, well…” You cleared your throat awkwardly. “I have a lot of work to do, so if you don’t mind…” You forced a smile and Robin raised her eyebrows, nodding and leaving you be. You tried to focus after that but you couldn’t, your mind wandering quite insistently to a certain constable. Guilt began to gnaw at your insides after having been so harsh with her. You’d have to - you wanted to - apologize for your behavior.

You locked yourself in your office and finished replying to your emails. Even half an hour later, Miranda was still not at her desk - nor was she in the kitchen, the locker rooms, or the alley under your window. You finally found her behind the station, looking out over the water and smoking a cigarette. 

“Hey,” you called, your heart clenching when you saw Miranda flinch as she turned to face you.

“Oh fuck. Look, I’m sorry, okay, I-”

“I’m the one who should apologize. Robin told me it was you.”

Miranda’s face scrunched up in confusion. She dropped her cigarette and took a step towards you. “Sorry?”

“You know, with Adrian.”

Recognition flooded Miranda’s features and she dropped her gaze to the pavement. “Oh.” She let out a hollow chuckle and turned again, walking towards the water and lowering herself to sit at the edge. You followed and took a seat next to her, leaving a healthy distance between the two of you. 

“Men are pigs, you know?” Miranda said after a moment’s silence. A loud snort escaped your lips, causing Miranda to laugh - you hadn’t heard her laugh so freely before, but it made your heart soar and you thought it might be your new favorite sound in the world. It wasn’t quite melodic, not necessarily akin to birdsong - it was loud and unabashed and very Miranda, and for some reason you found you really liked that. You couldn’t help but laugh, too.

“You’re alright, you know that, Hilmarson?” you said with a grin, gently bumping your shoulder into hers. Miranda’s laughter slowly died out but the smile remained on her face, accompanied by a faint blush.

“Thanks. You are, too.”

~~~

“Hilmarson.” You slung your jacket over your shoulder as you strode past Miranda’s desk the following day around noon. Her eyes grew wide and she dropped the pen she was holding, straightening her posture. “Come with me.”

Miranda scrambled to get up, slipping her phone into her pocket and following you to the elevators and out of the building. 

“Where are we going?” she asked, confusion evident in her tone as she scurried after you. You bypassed the parking lot, heading down the street instead.

“You’ll see,” you said with a smirk, wordlessly offering Miranda a cigarette. She fumbled around in her pocket for a lighter but you were quicker, holding up your own. “Hold still,” you murmured, holding the lighter up to her cigarette and lighting it for her, your eyes catching on the way her long, slender fingers held it, as if it were a delicate thing. 

Your destination was a nearby coffee shop, and you held the door open for Miranda to step through. “After you,” you purred, smirking at Miranda’s wide eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, she scrambled into the cafe, waiting awkwardly for you at the counter.

“It’s on me,” you said before ordering yourself a latte and a sandwich. “Get anything you like.”

Minutes later, you were sitting together at a little table in the corner.

“Look,” you started with a sigh. Miranda tilted her head. “Can we start over? I haven’t exactly been fair to you. You aren’t the reason I was late last week. I was angry and took it out on you, and that was really shitty of me.”

“I did spill cereal all over your shirt, though,” Miranda murmured with a sheepish grin, her cheeks turning adorably rosy.

“Yeah. Yeah, you did,” you said with a laugh. “That’s not the point, though. You’re too good to let yourself get walked all over, you know that?”

Miranda shrugged, unable to fully meet your gaze and focusing instead on her panini, out of which she took a huge bite.

“Not by me, not by Constable Brown, not by Adrian - you’re a solid officer and you have potential, you just need to stand your ground more.”

“Oh god,” Miranda spoke through a full mouth, her voice slightly garbled, her eyes wide. “Is this a performance review or something?”

You laughed, your stomach flipping as her blush deepened. “No. I just…” You hesitated, biting your lip and looking away. I just really like you. “I just wanted to apologize. I want us to work together, not against each other.”

“Really?” Miranda grinned, her eyes sparkling - the hope written across her face nearly made your heart stop, and you nodded. “I was so scared when I found out you were my new boss. I really thought you hated me.”

“I did, too,” you said with a laugh. “But… for the record, I don’t. I hope you don’t hate me.” 

Miranda’s cheeks puffed out as she chewed and she smiled widely. “I don’t.”

~~~

Ever since your lunch “date”, your feelings for Miranda were only growing. Your heart skipped a beat when you caught sight of her at the station, your stomach fluttered when you heard her voice. You even found yourself timing your smoke breaks with hers, just so you would have an excuse to chat with her and bask in her presence.

The following Friday at the bar, Miranda chose to sit down next to you. She placed a beer in front of you and offered you a wide smile - you felt your face flush as you muttered out an uncharacteristically shy “thank you”.

The two of you listened to your colleagues talk and banter - or rather, perhaps Miranda was listening, but you definitely weren’t. You were far too focused on the constable and your close proximity to one another; the way her shoulder bumped yours every so often, the way her hand flexed around her beer bottle, the way her throat bobbed whenever she took a sip.

Miranda laughed, throwing her head back, her shoulders shaking. She looked to the side, meeting your gaze - you couldn’t help but grin giddily back at her, chuckling a bit, and you could see her cheeks turn red as she returned your grin. 

After your third beer, you started to feel a little daring - you placed your hand gingerly on her thigh, your touch feather light as you were afraid of crossing a line. To your surprise, Miranda placed her own hand on top of yours - it was warm and soft and large, and you could feel your pulse pick up as her long fingers curled slightly around yours. When you dared to steal a glance in her direction, you could see a soft smile playing upon her lips.

~~~

“Hey.” A low voice coming from the doorway to your office caused you to look up from your laptop. A smile involuntarily spread across your face seeing Miranda leaning awkwardly against the doorframe, her hands clasped behind her back.

“Hi,” you replied - Miranda hadn’t come into your office proactively since you’d started working at the station, but you supposed a lot had changed in the past few days. “Do you need something?”

Miranda shook her head. “No, I, uh, I actually wanted to ask if you’d want to come over to my place for a beer or something tonight?”

“Oh.” A swarm of butterflies erupted in your stomach at the prospect of spending one-on-one time with the blonde - who was looking increasingly like she was about to throw up, the longer you took to reply. “Yeah, yes, I would love to.”

Miranda’s eyes widened. “Okay, great. I’ll send you my address. How’s 7?”

“7 is perfect,” you said with a growing blush, chuckling as Miranda rushed back to her desk to grab her phone - your own phone pinged with a text moments later: an address.

~~~

You showed up promptly at 7, your heart pounding fiercely against your ribcage as you knocked on the door to Miranda’s apartment.

The door swung open to reveal the tall blonde, wearing the blue shirt she’d loaned you after spilling cereal all over you, as well as a pair of shorts. 

“Blue is definitely your color,” you said before you could stop yourself. It really was, though - it brought out the blues of her eyes, making them shine and sparkle against her pale skin. 

“Thank you,” Miranda said with a laidback grin, gesturing for you to enter her apartment. It surprised you to see that it wasn’t as messy as you’d have assumed it to be - it was definitely lived in, but it was clean and had very home-y vibes. More than anything, the first thing you noticed was the smell. It smelled like Miranda - light and clean, but with the faint scent of cigarettes clinging to the air. Her shirt had smelled like that, too, when you’d borrowed it, and though you never would have admitted it back then, you’d buried your nose in the fabric more than once before begrudgingly washing and returning it.

Miranda offered you a beer and guided you to her living room, settling on the couch and motioning for you to join her. The couch was relatively small and though you tried to leave some space between you, your knee ended up pressing lightly against Miranda’s thigh.

Despite your nerves, it somehow felt right to be in her space. You felt as though you were able to see a whole new side to Miranda - a side that you really liked. As the two of you engaged in some timid small-talk, you couldn’t help but wonder why she’d invited you - you hoped it was for the same reason that you’d said yes.

“God, I was so nervous to ask you to come over,” Miranda said with a cackle, shaking her head at herself before taking a swig of her beer.

“Were you?” The thought amused you greatly, and it gave you a shot of confidence. You dropped your voice an octave and leaned forward. “Do I make you nervous?”

Miranda looked like a deer caught in headlights, her eyes widening. Your eyes flicked briefly to her lips, to her wet, pink tongue darting out to lick them, and you found yourself leaning even closer. 

“What would you do if I kissed you right now?” you murmured, scanning Miranda’s face for any sign of discomfort. Miranda’s pupils dilated and her lips parted slightly.

“I would kiss you back,” she whispered, her gaze landing on your lips.

“Yeah?” you whispered back with a smile. Miranda nodded slowly.

“Uh-huh.” 

You closed the gap, your lips meeting hers - she tasted like beer and cigarettes, and her lips were impossibly soft. She kissed you back eagerly, whimpering a little as your tongue darted out over her lower lip.

You pulled back, your cheeks covered in a light blush.

“I’m sorry, I hope that wasn’t-” you started, but Miranda interrupted you with a second kiss, this one deeper and hungrier than the first as her hands grabbed your cheeks, holding you in place. Her tongue licked greedily at the seam of your lips, which you immediately parted for her. You let out a deep groan as her tongue slipped into your mouth, dancing with yours in near-desperation.

“You taste so good,” Miranda moaned, her voice low and sultry, and desire pooled in your core.

“Mmmh,” was all you could reply as your hands gripped at Miranda’s waist and you swung your leg over her lap to straddle her. Her hands slid down to your waist, then your hips, then came to rest on top of your thighs. She gave them a squeeze and you found yourself involuntarily grinding your pelvis into her lap, her touch sending your body into overdrive.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered, Miranda swallowing your words as your bodies pressed against each other, a steady and suffocating heat building between the two of you.

The constable’s hands slipped under your ass and she turned you onto your back - breaking the kiss only briefly to position herself above you. One of her knees came to rest between your legs and she pushed it against your core, drawing a groan from your throat. The pressure was delicious against your aching sex and you bucked your hips to get some much-needed relief.

Miranda’s lips left your own and began to trail down your chin, your throat, your chest, stopping at the top button of your shirt - hot, wet, needy. She lifted her head and you looked down to meet her gaze - her pupils were blown wide with lust, her cheeks gorgeously flushed, her hair tousled.

“We- fuck,” you started breathily, finding it almost impossible to think as Miranda’s knee pressed against your clit. “We should slow down.”

Miranda nodded, her eyes widening and her cheeks bright red as she reluctantly pulled her leg away from your cunt. You bit down on your lower lip to stop a whine from slipping out at the loss of friction.

The constable settled half on top of you, leaning against the back of the couch and propping her head up on her arm. She closed her eyes as she tried to steady her heavy, ragged breathing. “Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse with want. “I just don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Miranda’s eyes snapped open and she met your gaze, a slow, easy grin spreading across her face. “You’re not. I want this.”

“I don’t think I just want this,” you mumbled, closing your eyes and swallowing hard. “I want you.” 

“I want you, too.”

You opened your eyes and met Miranda’s bright, eager gaze, searching her face for any hint of doubt or hesitation. “Are you sure?”

Miranda nodded and you lunged forward, your lips crashing into hers as your hand snaked its way around the back of her head, holding her in place. Your fingers threaded through her hair - it felt like silk under your skin.

Your other hand settled on her waist, tugging her on top of you - her body weight pressed you down into the couch and you groaned at the feeling. You needed more, you wanted more, so your hands found the hem of Miranda’s t-shirt and you slipped underneath it. Her bare skin was impossibly smooth, and you felt electricity coursing through your body at the feeling of her soft hips in your hands. Your hands found their way up her back and you raked your nails over the expanse of it, pleased with the hungry growl that escaped Miranda’s lips.

Finding the clasp of her bra, you unclipped it, slipping a hand around to the front of her torso and under the loose fabric to palm her breast. She grasped desperately at your waist as your warm palm rubbed over her nipple, rolling it into a hard peak. Miranda let out a breathy sigh and sat up, straddling your waist and pulling her shirt off. Her bra followed, and both were discarded on the floor behind the couch. 

You felt the air leave your lungs as you stared up at Miranda - your mouth going dry. Her rosy nipples contrasted against her pale skin, her abdomen rippled with every heaving breath that she took. You couldn’t help but reach out and touch her, caressing her hips, her stomach, her breasts - flicking your thumbs over her pert nipples and watching them harden further.

Sitting up, you hungrily took one of the rosy buds into your mouth, sucking greedily and soothing your tongue over it as you felt Miranda’s hands thread through your hair. You repeated the process on her other nipple, thoroughly pleased with yourself when Miranda let out a soft, breathy moan - one that was so deliciously pornographic that you felt a wave of arousal course through you, your panties growing damp.

You released Miranda’s nipple, your hands drifting down to the buckle of her belt and making quick work of undoing it. Miranda took the hint, removing her pants in a hurry and then focusing her attention on your own clothes. Your own shirt was unbuttoned and tossed aside in an instant, your pants tugged down your legs and dropped onto the floor with the rest of the clothing.

Miranda’s bare skin was hot against your own and you pulled her back down on top of you, your pussy throbbing as her nipples brushed against yours. You kissed her with hunger and passion, your left hand palming her ass as your right hand found its way between your bodies to cup her pussy over her underwear.

The constable groaned, immediately grinding against your hand - you noticed that she’d soaked through the thin cotton of her underwear. You pulled the fabric aside and curled your fingers against the length of her slit, letting out a gasp as you felt her dripping for you.

“I need you,” she whined, shuddering as your fingers explored her folds - letting out a strangled whimper when you smeared her wetness over her clit and began to draw lazy circles over the bundle of nerves.

Miranda turned out to be as loud as she was sensitive - you found it easy to bring her to the edge, time and time again, your fingers applying a gentle pressure to her clit and pumping easily in and out of her, her slick walls drawing your digits in and clenching tightly around them. Her unabashed moans filled the air, echoing off the walls of the living room and having you wondering - only briefly, though - how thick those walls were.

After her fifth orgasm, when the stimulation finally became too much for her, Miranda whimpered and shifted her pelvis away from you. Taking the hint, you pulled your hand out of her underwear, your fingers shining with her arousal. You lifted them to Miranda’s face, smirking when she immediately opened her mouth and allowed you to place your fingers on her tongue. She sucked them clean, her flushed cheeks hollowing out, her kiss-swollen lips wrapped around your knuckles. 

You leaned forward to kiss her as she released your fingers, eager to taste the remnants of her orgasm on her tongue. The taste was heavenly - you were almost sorry that Miranda was so overstimulated - you’d have given everything to go down on her.

She pulled back from the kiss, her hot, heavy breath ghosting over your face as she rested her forehead against your own, trying to steady her breathing. A bead of sweat had collected on her forehead and you reached up to wipe it away, tucking a strand of mussed hair behind her ear. It was too short, of course, and immediately fell back into her face - it made you smile, and Miranda smiled - no, beamed - back, her eyes sparkling.

“I hope that wasn’t too much,” you whispered into the silence - Miranda blushed and shook her head no. Her fingers danced along the waistband of your underwear, lightly at first as she leaned in for a languid kiss. Then her fingers curled under the waistband and began tugging, her lips trailing down your jaw, your throat, your sternum, your stomach - soft, warm, wet, hungry. She tugged your underwear down your legs, her lips immediately replacing the fabric as she pressed kisses to your mound, to your inner thighs - finally disappearing between your legs. 

You felt her tongue lap hungrily at your folds, little noises of pleasure coming from between your thighs and vibrating against your cunt. It was both adorable and extremely hot at the same time, how eagerly Miranda ate you out - sloppy, yet determined (and very skilled, you noted mentally, letting out a filthy groan as her lips latched onto your clit, her tongue flicking at the sensitive little bundle).

By the time Miranda was finished with you, your thighs were trembling and your breathing was ragged. The constable pressed one final kiss to your clit, before sitting up and grinning goofily down at you. Her chin was coated in your slick and her cheeks were flushed, and you couldn’t help but loop an arm around her neck and pull her close, licking your own arousal off her face before meeting her lips in a slow, sensual kiss.

After what felt like hours holding each other, kissing and regaining your breaths, you felt your eyes begin to grow heavy and you sighed.

“I should probably get going,” you murmured, your voice slightly hoarse.

“Yeah - of course.” Miranda blushed as she pushed herself off you. “Can you just wait here?”

You nodded, furrowing your brows as the constable stood and walked out of the room. You heard the tap running, then she came back with a wet washcloth.

“Is it okay if I…” Her eyes darted down between your legs as she took a seat next to you.

It was your turn to blush. “Yeah, that’s okay. Thanks.”

Miranda cleaned you up with great care, being extra gentle as she soothed the washcloth over your clit. When she was done, you got dressed in silence, then allowed Miranda to walk you to the door. She paused with her hand on the doorknob.

“Would you want to…” she trailed off, not quite able to meet your gaze.

“Are you busy Saturday? Would you like to go on a date with me?” You couldn’t help but smile as Miranda’s eyes widened and she began to nod, a look of relief washing over her face as her lips curled upwards.

“Yeah - I’m not busy, I would love to.”

“Good.” You smirked, leaning in to press your lips to Miranda’s - her breath hitched in her chest. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

You turned to leave, exiting the apartment and walking down the hall. Turning around to wave goodbye, you could see Miranda smiling as her head poked out from behind the door. 

That night, you fell asleep with a soft smile on your face and a warmth in your belly - already mentally planning your date.

x

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#miranda hilmarson x reader #miranda hilmarson #top of the lake: china girl #top of the lake

[yesimwriting]

I love ur felix fics sm!! ur one of my fave writers on here<<333 and no I don’t think itd b crazy to write for Nate!! I’d love to see how u would write him!! (Maybe grumpy x sunshine hehe)

hi!! this is such a nice ask :)) i'm so happy you like my felix fics

omg i love ur train of thought for a nate fic!! i've been thinking about that kind of dynamic for them, but in a really niche way

anyways let's have some thoughts on nate jacobs and sunshine/kind of sheltered reader!!

----

thinking about the moment in which you find out nate jacobs is your assigned partner for a project that's worth 35% of your final grade. if this was happening to you a year ago, maybe even two or three months ago, you might have been nervous for an entirely different reason.

but you're not that version of yourself anymore. you go out to parties now; you wear shirts to school that your mom buys for you the same way she used to buy you impulse barbies, with a wink as the cashier scans them, making you promise that you won't show dad what you got at the store; you're friends with maddy and cassie...you're on your way to best friends with maddy and cassie.

so you can't dismiss the gossip and the stares nate gets in the halls as a standard part of high school, not the way you used to. you can't just see him across the hall at his locker and mentally acknowledge that you get why girls talk about him the way they do. you can't just get paired up with him for an extremely long assignment and think oh, at least he's cute.

every story maddy's ever mentioned during sleepovers, everything she's teared up about after one too many drinks hits you at full force when your teacher reads your name and then his off of her list.

would she see this as a betrayal? it's not like you picked him and asking for a new partner is out of the question, a fact your teacher made clear at the beginning of the year. but maddy's loyal...fiercely loyal, and she expects that kind of commitment to be symbiotic.

you don't move, can't move until jules leans towards you, so close her hair spills onto your desk. "no fucking way." she whispers it in a way that'd make you laugh if this was about someone else.

you're silent, eyes finally pulling away from a brightly colored poster explaining the roles of each branch of the US government. you turn your head enough to look at where nate sits, the back of the room with a few other football players.

he's already looking at you. and when nate realizes you're finally staring back, he has the audacity to let the corner of his mouth pull into a smug sort of smile you're sure another version of you would have considered swoon worthy.

you're all instructed to use the last few minutes of class time to talk to your new partners, to make some kind of preliminary plan. nate's standing up and you're still recovering from the whiplash.

helplessly, you look over at jules who's clearly trying to get to the other side of the room before nate can get to you. she mouths a "sorry" that feels genuine, and points at the girl she's supposed to work with in a way that feels like over kill. you roll your eyes, picking up your pen and pressing the pad of thumb against its side to have something to do.

nate's in front of you before you know it. he's so tall it's a little intimidating when he's right there, especially with you still sitting. "you're everywhere now." a reference to the fact that you were both at the same party last weekend. you can still hear maddy's slurred i can't believe he's fucking here, before she dragged you out to the house's patio.

he's probably seen you more places. you're around maddy pretty regularly these days and from what you've heard, you wouldn't put stalking above him. he's probably a stalker in the way guys from the news are stalkers, calm and untouchable until they feel like the girl they're watching is moving on. then they snap and some news anchor reports that there were warning signs for months beforehand.

you're partially aware of your potential exaggerations, but you can't bring yourself to care. you've never really interacted with nate, but you want to hate him as more than the monster you hear about when maddy feels like ranting. you want to viscerally hate him. it's such an instinctual tug that you can't pretend it's all about morality. you're craving innate repulsion the way an elementary school girl wants the other half of a magnetic necklace with the word "best" etched into cheap metal. it's kind of pathetic, but then again...

"not last year, or last semester--"

he's baiting you and you're completely aware and you still can't help yourself. "what? it's illegal to make new friends now?"

your tone surprises you more than the fact that you interrupted him. you've never been overly shy, but you've also never been much of a fighter on your own behalf. maybe this is like the parties and barbie-style-bought-shirts, just another facet of the improved you.

nate seems surprised too, only he wears it like there's something funny about it. "no, you've always been friendly."

he says it like there's a joke in there that'd make the football players a few rows back laugh. it digs at you more than it should. he gets under your skin in a way that bugs. maybe that means genuine hatred is on its way.

you look up at him, eyes as unimpressed as you can manage. "so," the word is definite, intentional. "the project..." you're glad for the excuse to turn your attention back to your notebook, "i don't know if you want to work out a time to--"

"i'm leaving in like five minutes." you're about to point out that class doesn't end for another when he explains, "football game." ugh. another thing you can decide to be annoyed about. your homework schedule is now going to revolve around high school football. "can i get your number?" the idea of existing in nate jacobs's phone feels so wrong you can't immediately reply. he picks up on your hesitation, because he tacks on the one phrase that could get you to do anything, "35% of our grade."

you nod once, expression as blank as you can manage as you write out your phone number on the corner of a page. You tear off the bottom corner and hand it to him. "don't save my number."

it's so rude, your jaw almost drops, "what?"

"you're going to see maddy before the project's over, right?"

the implication immediately makes your stomach knot. you're not--you can't not tell maddy. she won't like it, but she can't hold a random partnering against you. and--and it's worse if you don't tell her, because then it's like you're sneaking around with nate. and it's--it's all for school.

"i'm not going to lie to her for you." it's so ridiculous, you can't even hold eye contact. his silence adds a second loop to the knot in your stomach. "why would i lie?" your own genuineness sickens you, you're backtracking immediately. "and--and it's just a dumb school thing, so she probably won't care that much."

"and you're sure she's going to believe that?"

"yes," the word is firm because it has to be. "because that's what it is."

"she gets paranoid."

no, no--he's doing this to get into your head and cause problems. "if she's paranoid it's because you're crazy."

"fine." he shoves the scrap of paper into his pocket. "save my number, don't save my number. tell maddy, don't tell maddy."

you sigh. "why do you care?" they're broken up...even if maddy takes it the wrong way, the fall out will be a you problem.

"she's going to think i fucked you to hurt her." you hate this--the situation, the conversation, the fact that you can't completely dismiss his train of thought. "who's known maddy longer?"

you're about to try again, to defend your friendship with maddy and call him crazy again when the static of the intercom speakers interrupts you. all football players are being called out of class to leave for an away game. nate gives you one last look before turning towards the door.

when jules slips back into her seat and asks if you're okay with everything, you nod and attempt a joke about catching fuck boy germs, but it doesn't come out the way you want it to. she still laughs, so you do too, but that's not as natural as it should be, either.

----

lmk if you like this concept/want more of it!! i had fun writing this :))

#euphoria x reader #nate jacobs x reader #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader #nate jacobs

[thatdeadaquarius]

imagine if reader is given an ancient scripture from around the time humanity founded out how to write and do the alphabet (somehow it was preserved so well that you can still see the words with no issue)

and it's the most heart wrenching, soul crushing, tear inducing, hyperventilating, sanity disappearing angst, misunderstandings, hurt/no comfort, it gets worse but never better, major character death, unrequited love story to have ever existed in teyvat.

and after reader goes through the whole thing, they can barely talk or breathe properly with how much they're crying.

(even better, it was smut not angst and reader is staring ar the scripture, jaw dropped to the floor with shaking hands.)

STOP- I avoid fanfics like that at all costs 😭 id stop reading it after the first angsty event LMAO

Im like... too emotionally affected by fanfics, esp angst ones 💀

Its just, ppl who write closer to my generation or just very psychologically honestly, are like fucking deadly writers. Got my day ruined and shit w/just fanfics 😭

LMAO THE GIF IS JUST YOU ON THE SPOT NOT EVEN HALFWAY THRU-

☆

Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Short! Headcanons-ish

Stars: my first of the Fontians!! Fontainianes? Fontainains?? u get it

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: sobbing, discussion of vague smut/NSFW book at the end, okay for Teen/Mature audiences, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

no but it’d be hilarious if u got this crazy like hand-width deep tablet for each “page” of the book, like how every novel or info in genshin is like one page at a time 😭

Sumeru and other international academics are literally constantly harassing politely requesting your translation of these and sending them to you in whichever country you’re visiting at the moment

Fontaine was even more complex and pretty in real life than it could ever be in game and i can def see you at like Neuvillette’s office or a nice french fontaine cafe and just WHAM

huge ass tablet bc as much as the fic tortures you, you have to know what the fuck happens to these miserable idiots

Neuvillette, Clorinde, and Lynette are all the type to immediately try and dissuade you from reading it again, bc from their point of view you just pull out this huge old rock and start sobbing quietly about 10 mins into the read every time 😭😭

(unsurprisingly, Neuvillette would even go so far as to get the Marechaussee Phantom to sneakily steal ur most recent tablets of the story to hide them, which sucks for you LMAO)

Freminet, Wriothesley, Navia, Lyney, and Furina,all frantically try to distract you, and also theyre in order of who would be the most dramatic w/it lmao

NO BC I JUST HAD THE THOUGHT-

Ur tears absolutely are top priority to Neuvillette and Furina so when they inevitably find the memories in them (and the traveler too maybe)

of what the story is about, except its like all the feelings and stuff, so like its the best “translation” they get of the book so far, u best believe it rains for a week straight

it started out as a light drizzle, but as Neuvillette “read on” in ur tear’s memories if got worse HAHA

mans is out here trying to convince himself like, “this is a classic tragedy from eons ago, its about a human romance, im definitely unaffected, though im glad i could figure out what ails My Majesty so”

meanwhile the story gets worse and its just like that meme “ohHHhhhHH its got a little kiicckkk”

Neuvillette nearly floods the streets by chapter 5 when the miscommunication happens and then they cant get in contact with each other to fix it lmao

LMAO I JUST HAD A VISIONNN

ur in fontaine and while yes drinks were popular (like obv fonta)

business is rlly booming bc now everyone you know (like the Vision-users or archons Neuvill, etc) all have develop this habit of having a water bottle or drink on them to offer you when u start reading to rehydrate you 😭😭😭

Navia, Clorinde, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Lyney, Lynette all have a handkerchief on them at all times too 😭😭

Good God-

the moment you translate the now instant Shakespearean-level tragedy classic, it is a known tear-jerker thruout all of Teyvat,

like theres trigger warnings and age limits and shit 💀

◇

on another note,

if its smut,

ur desperately combing thru all the tablets and wall carvings and cave paintings to try and lowkey cover it up LMAO

and its not like a story with a smut scene either, its like what anon said,

just fully like the ao3 tag “Porn What Plot/Porn With Plot”

STOP

not u yanking the tablets out of Neuvillette’s hands when he curiously picks them up one time lmao

(he is now invested in getting these translated too bc of ur reaction lol)

☆

consider supporting me with an iced coffee? :0

Spooky Season! Spooky Season!! Spooky Season!!!

still not dead btw

just got hired at my new job so ive been training and busy!! :)

im a host at Olive Garden lol its weird and kinda hard, my feet hurt a lot and i havent had a full shift yet ;-; its a brand new one so it opens the 23rd

dw that eldritch one shot is still coming btw, just talking with betas and editing it now lol

hope if you read this you have a great upcoming weekend!!

Safe Travels Anon,

💀♒

☆

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

☆

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657

#hello #its me #reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated #if anyone was reporting my death #ironic bc of my user #<3 cant wait to post that one shot #hope u guys will like it #its the eldritch au 1000+ followers celeb if u remember #sagau #genshin isekai #genshin imagines #genshin sagau #genshin impact #aqua asks #my asks #genshin impact sagau #genshin self aware #genshin x reader #gender neutral reader

[chrollohearttags]

and lemme touch y’all’s hand when I say this…when I say you are not special, I mean that. Meaning I don’t write or reblog with ur feelings in mind. This is my blog where every insane, intrusive and inappropriate thought can come spewing out at any given moment. Where my stories are a love letter to myself and the other blk women I write for. I am not a machine meant to constantly pump fics out for your enjoyment. I am a regular girl who uses this as my lil safe space of the hellscape we call the internet. Some of y’all got the game fucked up in thinking that being a writer is who we are and not just something we do. If you don’t like the way I or someone else uses this space, then leave the same way you came. I suffer from ADHD burnout horribly and I may go for days at a time without posting actual work bc my brain is in a fog and I can’t focus. When it begins to feel like a chore, I back out for a few days and if that’s not acceptable, then I truly don’t know what to tell you. Not apologizing for that shit.

#this includes commissioned work as well #I paid for a piece of my own on my birthday and I honestly have to say I felt as if I got robbed for the quality of work #so I will never feel bad for taking longer to flesh out a better story esp when it’s being paid for #regardless of if that person paid $5 or $25 #and in general #I will take as long as I need to make the best fic possible #but I won’t burn myself out to do so #sorry not sorry #cherry chats 🍒 #had to get this off my chest #and don’t come under my rb’s commenting stupid shit either #if sum don’t apply let it fly

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

WIP Wednesday

How is everyone doing this afternoon/evening? I know, I've been a little MIA lately. I went through a bout of writer's block... or something? I don't even know what to call it. Anway, it has finally passed. Given that, I figured it was time to give you all an update on Destiny & Deliverance. More below the cut...

As of this morning, Destiny & Deliverance is written. It's done. Did I cry? Yes, I did. Not sure if any of my eagle-eyed followers have noticed, but I added another chapter to the masterlist. Chapter 29 just got too fucking long, so I decided to make it an even 30. I think it worked out better that way.

So, to be clear, I have two chapters and the epilogue written. I still need to do editing for all three parts. I didn't want to mess up my flow by stopping to edit. Editing usually comes easier to me than writing, so it shouldn't take too long for that. This means you will get the last three parts fairly close together. I hope y'all are ready (because I'm not).

I will say the ending took a slightly different turn than I was originally planning, but I think what we have ended up with adds another positive layer to Dieter and Talia's healing journey. I just hope you all are happy with it. 👀 Now, let's get to a snippet from Chapter 29, shall we?

As Dieter was rattling off the meeting details, I continued to move around the kitchen to pull out glasses and utensils. I happened to look down at his pill organizer on the counter and realized he didn’t take his medication or supplements this morning. I sighed as I picked it up and waved it at him with a disapproving look.  He grimaced as he reached for the organizer, “Lo siento, mi luz. I’ll do better, I promise. Today has been so hectic already.”  “Same time, every day. Take it when your alert goes off…please.” He pulled me in for a quick kiss and thanked me for the reminder. I was starting to feel like a broken record and hated nagging him, but since he started working again, he had been slipping up on things…a lot. He never complained or got upset about it. Instead, he would often thank me, do what he needed, then go back to what he had been so focused on.

Don't come at me for that, I know it sounds ominous, but it's not. I promise. Just some minor growing pains.😏 I haven't had a chance to throw together a mood board yet, so I'm dropping a few pics here as a teaser. As always, I'd love to hear your predictions.

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#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x ofc #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #destiny & deliverance series #destiny & deliverance teaser

[memento-mori-twilight]

I just realized something about My Adventures with Superman.

This is the first (I say first because I have no idea if it will still be the only by the time Gunn's version comes around) iteration of a Superman story that breaks one of the few major behind-the-scenes writing rules about introducing a new Superman story:

It doesn't start the show with either Krypton exploding or the Spaceship crashing.

All other reintroductions to a "new" or "different" version of Superman in the comics, the movies, or the TV shows, all start the story with either one of the two things. So much that you can argue it's as much as a trope as audiences seeing Uncle Ben die everytime Spiderman get revamped, or every Batman movie having to show us the damned blood-covered pearls in Crime Alley.

Just 8 simple words that explain it all

"Doomed Planet. Desperate Scientists. Last Hope. Kindly Couple."

So much so that comics even lampshade it when introducing evil Superman parallels like Ultraman.

"Doomed Planet. Desperate Scientists. Last Hope. Duplicitous Bastards."

But My Adventures with Superman very noticeably don't do that, and that's very much by design because this version of Clark is meant to know nothing and so the showrunners and writers made it so that the audience is in the dark as much as Clark is.

And it works to a wonderful degree because this means the audience spends all of Episode 1 getting to know Clark Kent: Junior Reporter first. We learn the overgrown corn-fed dork who can fly and break sinks before we get a syllable of Kryptonese. We learn about Krypton's fate in Episode 2 as Clark learns about it, but this decision also goes on to do something spectacular.

It also goes to prime the audience that this story of Krypton is going to be different from the version of Krypton and Jor-El and Lara-Lor-Van most people know, and that becomes more and more prominent as the show goes on.

And the Krypton we see hints of is fucking scary!

The show is going wholesale in subconsciously putting us in Clark's shoes because it plays with our familiarity and curiosity of what Krypton is like until we get to Episode 8: Zero Day and we see what the visions and codenames of Nemesis Omega and Zero Day mean. And it invokes the feeling of more dread and terror than hope of seeing any more Kryptonians, and that's without introducing us to the known Evil Kryptonians in the lore. (Zod, Ursa, Faora, Jax-Ur, etc.)

Starting with us not seeing Krypton exploding or the rocket ship that Moses'd him to Earth also later leaves the ambiguity of whether Clark truly has the title of Last Son of Krypton in the last episode climax and end-credit scene. It throws a lot of what we expect into flux while still staying true to the roots of the character at the same time, because it never confirms or denies anything. We're just left to speculate and flounder as Clark is.

That's just a wonderful example of how a story choice can have such a knock-on snowball effect that can pay off in establishing an atmosphere.

And it's all because they refrained from using a proven tried-and-true intro rule to do something new, like they do for a lot of the series.

And I just think that's neat.

#just something i noticed #and then proceeded to go on a rant about #clark kent #superman #krypton #my adventures with superman #maws #my adventures with superman analysis #superman origin #ultraman #martha kent #johnathan kent #pa kent #ma kent #zero day #show analysis #dc #dc animation #dc animated series #dc comics #maws analysis