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jungwnies · 1 month ago

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f1 grid | learning a language

୨ৎ : featuring : all drivers on the grid ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : learning a language for your f1 boyfriend

୨ৎ : word count : 938

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : im like a day behind in stories... dw chat im LOCKING IN i think... sideye? this infact mondays post but tuesdays post will be out a little later today T-T

ʚ・red bull

max verstappen

nearly chokes on his water when you say "ik hou van jou" without warning.

pretends he's unimpressed, but secretly changes his phone's language to dutch to test you.

teaches you all the ridiculous dutch racing slang. you repeat it wrong and he laughs like a schoolboy.

corrects your accent with exaggerated seriousness: "it’s not how, it’s hauw — you’re making me sound german."

yuki tsunoda

shocked, then immediately makes you repeat everything so he can rate your pronunciation out of 10.

only teaches you curse words and food names. absolutely no grammar help.

laughs his head off when you accidentally call ramen "grandmother."

says you're his "nihongo no sensei" (japanese teacher) just to mess with you.

ʚ・mercedes

george russell

you thought learning british slang was simple. george decides to mess with you: "say 'peng ting' in front of lewis."

corrects you with a raised eyebrow when you misuse "fit" or "innit."

secretly impressed when you call him "my gee." tries not to smile.

forces you to watch love island as cultural immersion.

kimi antonelli

beams when you greet him with a "ciao amore."

teaches you romantic phrases then turns red when you use them casually.

you mispronounce "macchina" (car) and he goes, "nooo, now you're calling me pasta."

gets competitive: "you learn italian. i learn your language. we race."

ʚ・ferrari

charles leclerc

his face goes bright red when you say something soft in french.

corrects your grammar and pronunciation in the gentlest voice.

you call him "mon coeur" and he nearly drops his espresso.

sends you voice notes saying the same phrase over and over just to "help you practice."

lewis hamilton

loves that you picked it up to bond with the fans, not just him.

talks to you in half-italian, half-english during post-race dinners.

teaches you "grazie mille" and "sei bellissima," then says them to you in front of the team.

buys matching italian textbooks for fun, calls it "date night studying."

ʚ・mclaren

lando norris

immediately regrets you learning british slang when you say "bruv" unironically.

teaches you nonsense like "that's peak," "allow it," and "bare mad."

pretends to cringe every time you say something right. secretly adores it.

forces you to play cod with him and his friends to practice "real london lingo."

oscar piastri

you try to say "arvo" and "no worries," and he just dies.

laughs when you accidentally say something offensive without knowing.

makes you use aussie slang in every conversation: "that sentence didn't have 'mate' in it, try again."

very proud when you use "reckon" correctly. posts it to his story.

ʚ・aston martin

fernando alonso

nods very seriously as you practice, corrects your conjugations with professor energy.

when you say "te quiero," he goes completely silent and blushes.

teaches you how to shout at other drivers in spanish, just in case.

introduces you to his family and makes you speak only spanish all dinner.

lance stroll

you both struggle through duolingo together and compare scores.

gets competitive about streaks. "i’m on day 12, what about you?"

says phrases like "hola papi" and then loses it laughing.

brags about you to fernando: "she speaks better than i do now."

ʚ・williams

alex albon

surprised but deeply touched.

helps you practice but keeps distracting you with kisses.

teaches you sweet pet names in thai and says them back every time.

when you pronounce something wrong, he just hugs you and goes "close enough."

carlos sainz

absolutely melts when you roll your r's right.

you say something simple like "hola mi amor" and he lights up like a christmas tree.

spends whole evenings just having slow convos with you in spanish.

teases you for being "muy guapa y muy lista" (very pretty and very smart).

ʚ・haas

ollie bearman

you call him "my bloke" and he turns the color of a tomato.

laughs hysterically every time you say "oi bruv" like you mean it.

tries to teach you more but ends up wheezing: "that's not even how we use it!"

buys you a tracksuit and says it's "for authenticity."

esteban ocon

thinks it's the most romantic thing ever.

you struggle to say "rendezvous" and he gently corrects you with a kiss.

whispers french phrases in your ear just to fluster you.

leaves sticky notes around the house with words of the day.

ʚ・racing bulls

liam lawson

you try to say "sweet as" and he stops what he's doing to laugh.

pretends to be offended when you mix aussie and kiwi slang: "excuse me, i'm not piastri."

calls you his "missus" in return and grins.

buys you a nz flag for your language streak celebration.

isack hadjar

absolutely charmed the second he hears you try.

says something flirty in french and dares you to figure it out.

makes you speak only french to him for a day. smirks every time you mess up.

shows you off to his friends like, "she speaks french for me. just for me."

ʚ・alpine

pierre gasly

pretends he’s too cool to care but absolutely melts when you call him "mon chéri."

leaves flirty messages in your duolingo inbox.

sends you obscure french memes and makes you decode them.

you say something romantic and he just whispers, "say it again."

franco colapinto

you pronounce his name the spanish way once and he's gone.

corrects your slang like a patient tutor, but teases you mercilessly too.

buys you alfajores as "study fuel."

gets emotional when you say something sweet in his dialect.

ʚ・kick sauber

nico hulkenberg

amused at first, but turns into your grammar coach real fast.

"nein, nein—this is the wrong case. we do not say it like that."

gives you german tongue-twisters and giggles when you fumble.

very proud when you say "ich liebe dich" the right way.

gabriel bortoleto

excitedly helps you with pronunciation, even if he gets distracted.

calls his mom so you can practice together.

when you say "meu amor," he completely melts.

writes you little love notes in portuguese and hides them in your books.

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bxunyx · 12 days ago

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𝐏𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐬

Pairing-ModernAU-Smoke&Stack x Bookworm reader

Request-SmokeStack twins with book worm reader. I would love to see the contrast between her and them like they bring her to make plays, hanging with the gang and she’s just reading not hearing a peep.

A/N- hope you like it pumpkin

You weren’t supposed to be in their world.

Not the backroom meetings. Not the corner politics. Not the smell of rubber soles scuffing concrete and burner phones buzzing with coded tension.

You were supposed to be at home—curled up in bed with a candle lit, sipping tea, annotating chapters like they held the answers to life.

But somehow, you ended up in the thick of it. Caught between the two wildest men the South Side had to offer.

Smoke—the quiet one. Sharp jaw, darker eyes, slick with that slow Southern drawl and a stare that made grown men stutter. The mind behind the movement. If Stack was fire, Smoke was the shadow moving through the smoke after it burned.

Stack—his louder twin. Flashier. Mouth slick. The kind of man who laughed during shootouts and flirted between shootouts. Gold in his mouth, heat in his waistband, and a habit of turning anything boring into a party.

And then there was you.

Wearing soft sweaters in rooms full of cracked leather and gun oil. Sitting cross-legged on trap couches with your paperback open while stacks of cash were being flipped behind you.

You didn’t blink when the doors slammed.

Didn’t flinch when the guns clicked.

Didn’t even pause your reading when someone got to yelling about re-ups and bad product.

“Bruh,” Stack said one night, watching you over the rim of his solo cup, “she really sittin’ here reading Jane Austen like we not plannin’ a lick.”

“Pride and Prejudice,” you corrected, not looking up.

Smoke smirked from across the table, where he was cleaning his pistol. “She just like her peace.”

Stack snorted. “She with us. Ain’t no peace in this.”

“She got peace ’cause she with us,” Smoke said calmly, sliding the magazine back into place. “Ain’t nobody gon’ touch her, ain’t nobody gon’ speak crazy, and ain’t shit gon’ interrupt that chapter.”

He nodded toward you, and Stack followed his gaze—watching the way your lips moved while you read, your lashes low, your body relaxed like you were a thousand miles away from the war room you sat in.

⸻

You weren’t dumb.

You knew who they were. What they did. What they were capable of.

You just chose not to be scared. Chose not to ask questions. Chose to be something else in their lives.

Because everybody wanted a piece of them. The streets, the girls, the gang, the game. But no one ever gave anything back.

You gave them quiet.

Unbothered, unshaken quiet. The kind they didn’t even know they craved until it was already sitting cross-legged beside them, correcting their grammar and dog-earing chapters they didn’t understand.

⸻

They started bringing you everywhere.

To the drop spots. The dice games. Even late-night stakeouts, where Stack played loud music in the front seat while Smoke sat silent, watching. And you? Tucked in the back, reading by the glow of the glovebox light.

“Yo, baby,” Stack said one night, eyes on the side mirror, “you hear what this nigga just said?”

“Nope,” you said, turning a page.

“Damn,” Stack grinned. “She in deep.”

Smoke cracked the window and said under his breath, “Good. Let her stay there. World’s too loud anyway.”

⸻

It wasn’t until someone tried to test the setup that things went left.

One of Stack’s ex-flings showed up at a party—loud, made-up, and mad.

She clocked you instantly. Sitting on a barstool, knees pulled up, reading in a crowd full of gang members and Instagram models.

“That’s who y’all with now?” she sneered, looking you up and down. “Girl look like she belong in a library, not a trap.”

Stack laughed. Laughed.

“Damn right,” he said. “And we the library cards. She checkin’ both of us out.”

The girl scoffed. “She don’t even talk.”

Smoke stepped up behind you, sliding a protective hand to your lower back.

“She don’t need to,” he said, voice low. “She listen. She think. She know more from a book than you ever did runnin’ your mouth.”

Then he looked to you. “You good?”

You closed your book, finally raising your eyes. Calm. Unbothered.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “She’s just mad I read more than receipts.”

Stack damn near choked laughing.

Smoke smiled slow.

And the girl? She disappeared before the next song started.

⸻

That night, the twins brought you home.

You laid between them—your book tucked on the nightstand, their arms thrown over you like guards at the gate.

Stack kissed your shoulder, mumbling, “Don’t ever leave us for some nerdy professor.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Smoke pulled you closer. “’Cause real peace only show up once.”

And you were it.

The calm after the shootout. The silence after the plan.

The only thing they never had to fight for—

Because somehow, they knew they’d lose you if they ever made it loud.

And you? You didn’t need much.

Just a quiet corner, a good book…

And two men who loved you enough to let you read through the war.

#Spotify #smoke moore #smoke sinners #stack moore #stack sinners #smokestack twins #elias x reader #elijah x reader #smoke x reader #stack x black reader #stack x reader #smoke x reader x stack #sinners fic #sinners x reader #micheal b jordan x reader

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theskywithin · 1 month ago

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💫🪞 Juno in the Houses 💌🕊️

Juno in the houses is about the kind of love that leaves a fingerprint on the soul, the vows we make without speaking, the lessons we keep meeting in every mirror.

If you liked this post, I’m offering 50% off full birth chart readings for the month of May — just $25 / 25€. DM me to book 💌

JUNO IN THE 1ST HOUSE

There’s a mirror welded into the skin with this placement. A silent expectation stitched into your spine: If you love me, I’ll exist. Juno in the 1st doesn’t just seek partnership, it becomes it. Your body turns into a question you’re asking others to answer. Do I belong in this form? Do I deserve to be chosen? In this life, the soul carries the imprint of being defined through the eyes of someone else. The first glance. The first promise. The first wound of being misunderstood. You may fall in love with those who reflect you too well or not at all, constantly orbiting the tension between merging and mattering. But the real vow isn’t to another person. It’s to yourself. To stand still inside your own image. To not flinch when love arrives. To not shapeshift in order to be touched. Juno here asks: Can you commit to being seen as you are, even before someone sees you? Can you stay with yourself long enough to know the difference between recognition and projection? This placement is about re-entering your own body, and calling it home.

JUNO IN THE 2ND HOUSE

Here, Juno moves like a seamstress. She threads her needle through your skin, stitches your worth into the lining of everything you touch, velvet glances, half-sipped silence, the weight of a wrist pressed into someone else’s palm. Love becomes cloth. Tangible. Measured in texture. You don’t just want to be chosen, you want to be kept. Wrapped in. Handled like something rare. But the pattern is old. You carry a memory of being appraised, not adored. Cherished for your function, not your form. And so you tighten your laces. Reinforce your hems. Offer yourself like a tailored coat: Will I warm you enough? Will I fit the shape you need? There is grief, sometimes, in how easily you offer comfort. And in how few ever ask what it costs you. But the soul’s promise isn’t to remain wearable. It’s to no longer confuse usefulness with love. To stop shrinking into garments that were never cut for your shape. You are not a fabric for others to wrap around their emptiness. You are the original thread. The heirloom pattern. The velvet of being that softens with time, not loss. And one day, love will come not to claim you, but to sit quietly beside you, palms open, asking nothing. Because the vow has changed. You no longer offer yourself to be used. You offer yourself to be known.

JUNO IN THE 3RD HOUSE

Juno here is a secret letter folded into the lining of your voice. It’s the vow you try to speak without knowing the language yet, the one you’ve been rewriting since childhood, every time someone interrupted you, misunderstood you, or loved you only for the version of you that kept quiet. Love, in this house, is made of syllables. Of late-night sentences braided with fear. Of conversations that begin with honesty and end with translation, you say truth, they hear threat. This placement carries the ache of being split between words and meaning. You learned early to speak carefully. To listen harder than anyone else in the room. To shapeshift into the dialect of the one you adored, mirroring their cadence, adjusting your tone, rewriting your truth to stay close. But your soul didn’t come here to echo. It came here to name. To speak not just to be understood, but to be real. And so, Juno in the 3rd doesn’t ask for a partner who’s clever. It asks for one who listens between the lines. Who hears the tremble behind your metaphors. Who doesn’t correct your grammar when your grief slips out mid-sentence. The vow isn’t just to communicate. It’s to unlearn all the ways you made yourself more palatable in love. It’s to stop translating your truth for someone else’s comfort. Because when you finally speak in your own accent, the one shaped by all your contradictions, the right one will answer without asking you to explain.

JUNO IN THE 4TH HOUSE

Juno here is not in the room. She’s in the walls. She’s the creak in the floorboard no one else hears, the chill that moves through the house when memory passes by. She’s the promise the soul made long before this life began: I will never build a home on fault lines again. There’s an inheritance in this placement, not of blood, but of blueprint. Somewhere along the lineage, love meant survival. Affection came with conditions. Safety arrived with silence. So now, you hold your breath around people who say “forever,” wondering if they’ve ever seen a foundation crack from the inside out. Love touches the most hidden part of you here. The part that flinches at softness. That rearranges the furniture of your heart whenever someone gets too close. That longs to be known but locks the door before anyone can knock. Juno in the 4th teaches that intimacy is not about history, it’s about shelter. Not about origin but return. The partner your soul remembers isn’t the one who lights a candle in your hallway. It’s the one who brings kindling to the storm. Who sits with you in the basement of your being, where the ghosts of childhood still whisper, and doesn’t tell you to be quiet. The vow here is not to create a perfect home. It’s to stop abandoning yourself in the name of keeping someone else warm. Because your heart was a house long before anyone asked to move in. And now, you remember: the light was always coming from inside.

JUNO IN THE 5TH HOUSE

Juno here lives in the orchard. She tastes like fruit warmed by the afternoon, like something that ripens just from being looked at gently. Love, to you, is a sensory thing, not romantic, not grand. Just the slow touch of presence. Just two mouths learning how to speak joy again. But there’s an old wound under this sweetness. A past-life ache that says: If I let myself feel too much, they’ll leave. If I shine too brightly, they’ll get burned. If I fall in love with the moment, it won’t last. And so, sometimes, you pull back when joy gets too close. You interrupt your own laughter. You brace for absence before the hand ever lets go. Juno in the 5th carries a deep knowing: love is not supposed to be a task. It’s supposed to be a dance. A delight. A sacred kind of silliness. And yet you may choose partners who tighten when they should loosen. Who intellectualize what was meant to be tasted. Who touch you like a concept, not a body. The vow isn’t to create beauty. It’s to become it without shame. To trust that joy can be an anchor, that presence can be a promise, that love can feel like honey, not hunger. When you stop questioning whether pleasure is safe you’ll find someone who doesn’t just walk with you through the orchard, but bites into the fruit beside you. Unafraid of the sweetness. Unbothered by the mess.

JUNO IN THE 6TH HOUSE

Juno in the 6th doesn’t speak in declarations. She moves through the day like a whisper in the spine, folding towels, refilling the glass, asking how you slept. Here, love is not a feeling. It’s a rhythm. A way of staying. But this placement carries the weight of past lives where devotion turned into duty. Where care was transactional. Where love meant overgiving, overfunctioning, outlasting your own body’s limits. So now, you may serve in silence. You may love through effort. You may fall for those who need fixing, mending, translating, as if love were a job you’re not allowed to quit. There is exhaustion here, if you’re not careful, a subtle erosion of self in the name of reliability. But Juno in the 6th is not about self-sacrifice. It’s about sacred calibration. About finding someone who doesn’t just show up on the good days but knows how to meet you inside the mess. Who doesn’t romanticize your strength but recognizes when you're running on reserves. The vow is simple, but profound: to stop proving your love by breaking your back. To let care be mutual, mundane, miraculous. To let someone hold the weight with you, not hand it back with thanks. Love here isn’t loud. It’s the dish still warm in the oven. The chair turned slightly toward yours. The kind of presence that doesn’t ask to be praised, only returned.

JUNO IN THE 7TH HOUSE

Juno in the 7th doesn’t just sit across the table. She becomes the table. The room. The atmosphere between two people when something holy and uncomfortable is being exchanged, not words, not vows, but recognition. There is a strange gravity here. A psychic pull toward the one who sees too much, too soon. The one who looks at you and accidentally unlocks an entire cathedral of memories. The one whose presence makes your own reflection unbearable or beautiful. This placement carries the memory of eye contact that changed you. Past-life entanglements. Silent contracts. Lessons in love that were taught through mirrors, not mouths. And so now, love arrives through the shape of the Other, the one who makes you real. The one who makes you recoil. The one who brings you back to yourself, over and over, whether you want to come back or not. Juno in the 7th is not asking for a partner. She’s asking for a witness. Someone who doesn’t leave when the projection shatters. Someone who understands that sometimes, the deepest intimacy is holding up the mirror and staying while the other one breaks. The vow here is to stop chasing balance. To stop confusing agreement with connection. To stop splitting yourself into halves just to be held. Because the real vow isn’t made to another person, it’s made in their presence, to finally see yourself clearly and not look away.

JUNO IN THE 8TH HOUSE

Juno in the 8th doesn’t make promises, she makes offerings. A name left at the river’s edge. A heartbeat surrendered in the dark. This is not love as a feeling. It’s love as initiation. There’s something ancient here. A soul-memory of bonds that went too deep, or not deep enough. Of giving yourself like an open wound and being devoured instead of held. Of learning, too young or in another life, that love could be a burial and yet still returning to the grave with flowers. This placement doesn’t want surface connection. It wants the bones of you. It wants to know what you look like without your coping mechanisms. It wants the version of you that cries without explanation and trusts that you won’t be left for it. You may find yourself drawn to those who awaken your grief, not to suffer, but to remember. To finally tend to the places inside you that intimacy abandoned. To stop guarding the vault and invite someone into the ruins. But the vow isn’t to fuse. It’s to undress, psychologically, spiritually, emotionally. To be naked in front of another soul and still choose to live. To no longer fear that love will end you and to know that if it does, it will be the death of who you aren’t. This is the house where love becomes a ritual of shedding. Where trust means letting someone walk with you into your own underworld and not asking them to save you. Because the ones who stay won’t just see your shadows. They’ll hand you the candle.

JUNO IN THE 9TH HOUSE

Juno in the 9th doesn’t knock on the door. She waits at the edge of the known world, lantern in hand, whispering promises through the wind. She is not the partner you recognize, she’s the one your bones remember before your mind catches up. Not a soulmate. A soul-echo. This placement hums with distance, not just physical, but existential. You may love those who live in other countries, other timelines, other states of becoming. Or those who remain slightly out of reach, suspended just above understanding, beautiful, untouchable, like a cathedral half-lit in fog. The ache here is not just for union. It’s for expansion. For someone whose eyes widen your cosmos. For the kind of intimacy that cracks open a hidden room in your psyche and lets the stars walk in. But this kind of love can also leave you untethered. You may mistake projection for prophecy. Wander from one profound connection to another, collecting revelations instead of roots. You may love through altitude, never quite descending, never quite staying. The vow here is to believe, not in another person, but in the version of you that emerges in their presence. The one who says too much. The one who loves without proof. The one who isn’t afraid to be foolish in the name of something vast and real. Juno in the 9th is the soul’s promise to trust the pull to follow the strange compass of chemistry and knowing, even when there is no map. Even when it takes you to the edge of your comfort and leaves you there with open hands. Because the kind of love you came here for? It doesn’t ask for certainty. It asks for faith.

JUNO IN THE 10TH HOUSE

Juno in the 10th stands on the roof at midnight. Not to be admired, but to be held up by something other than the ground. There’s a chill to this placement, not unfeeling, but exposed. Like a bell tower catching every echo. Like someone who learned, long ago, that love would come only after achievement. After proof. There’s a soul-memory here of being chosen for what you did, not who you were. Of being honored, but never known. So now, the heart builds scaffolding instead of sanctuary. You learn to love through accomplishment. You offer your competence like a gift wrapped in silence. But inside that posture is a softer vow, waiting. To not be turned into a role. To not become the version of yourself that earns admiration at the cost of intimacy. You may be drawn to partners who appear strong, composed, impressive, but love you only from a distance. From a pedestal. From behind a mask of mutual functionality. The connection is real, but the tenderness gets lost in translation. Because Juno in the 10th isn’t looking for status. She’s looking for witness. For the one who sees you when you’re off-script. Who knows how to stay when the world turns its back. Who walks into the room not to applaud but to kneel. The vow here is to stop proving. To let love come without an audience. To learn that being trusted is not the same as being seen. Because the most powerful thing you will ever do is take off the armor while someone’s watching.

JUNO IN THE 11TH HOUSE

Juno in the 11th doesn't fall in love. She drifts toward it like a signal broadcast across lifetimes, hoping the right frequency hears her hum. This isn’t romance. This is recognition from the outskirts. This is two souls orbiting the same forgotten dream, and realizing, mid-spin, they’ve met before, not in body, but in vision. You carry the memory of being alone in a crowd. Of belonging to a movement, but not a person. Of being celebrated for your ideas but starved for intimacy. So now, love feels safer when it’s abstract. When it has room to breathe. When it doesn’t ask for skin-to-skin closeness but soul-to-soul resonance. You may fall for minds before bodies. For friendships that slowly shape-shift. For those who carry a glint of the impossible in their eyes like they remember the same lost utopia you do, even if they never say it aloud. But the risk here isn’t distance. It’s dissociation. It’s confusing connection with concept. It’s mistaking collective love for personal touch, and forgetting that even the most cosmic bonds need warmth to survive. The vow is not to disappear into the dream. It’s to come back to earth with someone who holds the same sky in their chest. To learn that loyalty isn’t about ideology, it’s about presence. About knowing someone could choose anyone and still shows up, again and again, for you. Because in the end, Juno in the 11th isn’t looking for a crowd. She’s looking for the one who finds you in the static. Tunes in. And stays.

JUNO IN THE 12TH HOUSE

Juno in the 12th doesn’t wear a ring. She wears a shadow. She wraps herself around your aura like a forgotten melody, the kind that haunts you, even if you can’t place where you first heard it. This placement is not about partnership. It’s about surrender. About the kind of love that lives in the spaces between moments, the glance that lingers, the dream that repeats, the silence that doesn’t need to be filled. You may carry the imprint of hidden love. Of devotion unspoken. Of soul contracts that were broken before they could be named and so now, love feels like a riddle you can’t quite solve. You fall for ghosts. For feelings that arrive before their source. For people who slip through your fingers but remain lodged in your spirit. There is grief here, but also grace. Juno in the 12th asks: Can you love without possession? Can you stay open when no one is promising to stay? Can you believe in a bond you may never fully explain? The danger, of course, is vanishing. Becoming the dream instead of the dreamer. Waiting in the silence so long that you forget your own name. But the vow, the real vow, is not to lose yourself in love. It’s to trust that what’s real doesn’t always have a form. That the heart knows what language cannot hold. That even the invisible can be intimate. One day, someone will love you without needing to find you. And you will realize that you were never lost. Just hidden, until now, in the space where the soul whispers yes.

✨ Want to go deeper into the language of the soul? My book The Sky Within is a poetic guide to decoding the birth chart, now available on Amazon and all digital platforms.

#astrology #astro community #astro observations #natal astrology #natal aspects #birth chart #astrology tumblr #astrology blog #astrology book #juno #astrology community #astrology observations #astrology notes

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nymphea0 · 9 months ago

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Kurkans Mate.

Beast and his mate.

Yan! Ishakan x Reader

Part 1.

Manhwa :약탈혼 / predatory marriage

/ 약탈혼 (완전판)

: Adult Manhwa (18+)

Author/Illustrations : Saha / Hera(Art)

Halloo is neva again, is beens longs i had no post any story TvT... well i had some busy stuff to do, so hope you all forgive me.

And this first my series Manhwa chara, soons will be much chara came out, so stay alwalys love🦋🦋.

might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story,love.- Neva🦋🦋

Fire, blood and corpses'

is a view from a small village in the far west which has unspoiled natural beauty.

However, all of that was damaged when an invasion from a foreign continental kingdom came into conflict with another kingdom, resulting in several villages being affected by the conflict.

Day and night only the sound of screams, sadness, wrath, and much more, the beautiful village has become a sea of blood of innocent people.

Village of a thousand nights, a village for nature people which has a million cultures and also unbeatable beauty. village for the Antrabeth race.

Hair is blue as bright as the sky, the brighter and smoother the hair, the higher the inner bond with nature.

They are a closed people, living in a mountainous environment covered by forests and sunlight. However, their blood is their curse, the anthrabeth race is famous for their blood which can cure all diseases for those who drink the blood and also the blood of those who seek a long, eternal life.

The Antrabeth race is the enemy of the witch and the kurkans, the witch really like experimenting and some stuff unormalize thing and the kurkans believe that marrying an antrabeth race will produce invincible offspring.

However, the world thinks that the Antrabeth Tribe is just a myth, because their existence cannot be proven.

The stomping of feet and gasping for breath were silent witnesses in the night.

You, running with your aunt, managed to survive the post-war tragedy between the neighboring kingdom and the kingdom where you live.

The war between these two kingdoms caused damage to small villages, one of which was Antra village, a village for the Antrabeth tribe.

You and your aunt Reane are running from the pursuit of knights from an enemy kingdom who are ordered to kill women and kill men for blood.

Entering the border of the dense forest, your aunt stopped running, you who were running beside her also stopped, your breath was short, with the throbbing of blood flowing very quickly.

Your aunt could only stare at you sadly as you pressed your foreheads together.

"Run, nephew, don't let them catch you!" Your aunt's voice shook violently, ordering you to run as if this was a goodbye.

"What do you mean aunt?! We'll be safe, okay?" Enough lives have been lost tonight! I don't want to lose you too auntie!!." With a voice shaking with sadness you rejected your aunt's idea as if asking you to run.

"Don't be stupid!, they won't stop chasing us until one of us died. Listen nephew, the antrabeth tribe, our family is on the verge of extinction because of our blood, you have to run, save yourself."

"But auntie?! I can't!" you could only cry as your aunt pushed you hard.

"Run, don't let they catch you!" That was the last sound of your aunt running against the current, the voices of the enemy kingdom's knights shouting with a joyful hum as if they had caught a good catch.

You could only stare at the light of the torches and the sound of the horses' stampedes that were getting louder and louder. disappear. Your aunt, has been captured by the enemy knights.

Certainly, once they get your aunt's blood, your aunt will be killed just like that.

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you can only run forward, entering the forest deeper, the dark forest with the sound of animal sounds and moonlight are the only things that accompany your sad night.

Running with all your might you can only feel deep sadness, your mother and father were killed cruelly when your father and mother tried to save you, the inhabitants of the antrabeth tribe, the men were killed very cruelly, the women women and children were also killed old and young.

They only seek 1 thing, blood, the blood of the antrabeth tribe against the laws of nature, blood that can give long life like eternity and can cure all kinds of diseases.

Your blue hair is tangled, many leaves and twigs that's caught in your hair, the sweat that sticks to your forehead, the roar of your heart beating so fast that it adds to your running adrenaline.

Until your body is at the very high threshold because of tiredness from running and pushing yourself too hard, you stumble and fall, you faint on the mossy ground lit by the moon and surrounded by trees.

A thin mist covers your figure lying pitifully, as if nature is afraid if there is who tries to hurt you again.

Just when your eyes are almost completely closed, you see the silhouette of an old woman looking at you sympathetically. Until total darkness envelopes you.

A young woman with her hands and feet covered in bandages to heal abrasions, lay weakly and helplessly on an old mattress that had not been used for a long time.

An old woman slowly wiped the dirt that covered the body of the young woman who was lying weakly.

In a soft voice the woman said

"What in seven hells did this poor girl actually experience?"

After cleaning the young woman, the old woman put on a long, soft nightgown.

Carrying a tray carrying a small bucket of murky water and a dirty towel.

Walking slowly, closing the bedroom door gently, leaving the young woman to rest.

The sound of birds chirping melodiously decorated the beautiful morning in the middle of the dense forest.

Rays of light entered the slightly open window and illuminated a woman resting peacefully on the bed.

Frowning slowly, you opened your eyes slowly but surely, blinking to adjust your vision.

You see a room with minimalist furniture and decoration, with a very pungent smell of dust entering your respiratory tract.

Slowly waking up you look around, wondering who saved your life.

Then you slowly pull aside the blanket that covers your body, staring in shock, your hands and feet are covered with bandages that have a strong herbal aroma.

When you are about to get out of bed and try to stand up you fall onto the wooden floor, making a fairly loud sound.

'Dug'

The sound of quite heavy footsteps can be heard outside this room.

You who fell could only look towards the closed wooden door, until the door opened, indicating that someone had opened it.

There you see an elderly woman, her hair has white strands, skin that is no longer young, with a slightly hunched body.

"Why are you getting out of bed?!, you are not fully recovered!"

Walking slowly, the woman helps you to sit on the bed.

With a still weak voice, you asked the woman.

"Are ... you the one who saved me?"

The woman just nodded her head.

"My name is Esmera" the woman introduced herself as Esmera.

You also introduced yourself to her.

"You're from the Antrabeth tribe, right?" Emsera asked while gently stroking your bright blue hair.

You looked at her warily, thinking that Esmera might have saved you with another intention.

"Don't worry, I don't need your blood, this is just the first time for me to see the Antrabeth tribe directly."

Esmera, the old woman just chuckled softly seeing your confused face, while sitting slowly beside you she said.

"The Antrabeth tribe, everyone on the entire continent thinks that you are just a myth."

You could only stare in confusion, if the Antrabeth tribe is just a myth, why does the enemy kingdom know the existence of the Antra village?

You think, for the first time you finally realize one thing... the antrabeth tribe is a tribe that is close to nature, a village of a thousand nights, a village covered in thick fog and located in a dense forest, how could the enemy kingdom find the village where you live.

Many questions crossed your mind.

"I don't know what happened to you, , but from what I know, your presence can endanger you.".

You who were confused asked Esmera why that was.

The old woman just sighed while looking at you she said.

"Your tribe has not appeared on several common continents for more than 100 years, just your appearance is enough to shake the world."

You could only be silent hearing Esmera's words.

Then when you were about to speak, Esmera cut you off first.

"You are even more unsafe once you meet the Kurkans."

You who have been living in the depths of the forest just stared confusedly and chanted the name of the Kurkan tribe, asking Esmera what Kurkan is.

"Kurkans, are a tribe that has an extraordinary appearance and physical strength and is very strong, they are more often known as barbarians."

"In short, Kurkans will make you a partner if they find you, they are famous for kidnapping partners they choose through their animal blood instincts"

"The Kurkans consider partners important, and if they have acknowledged them as their partners, they will kidnap the person they consider to be their partner, forced or not, they will not let go of the partner they choose easily".

You just stared at Esmera who was busy checking the wounds on your hands and feet.

You then told me about what you experienced, the war, and the massacre.

Esmera looked at you sadly, the woman did not expect the tribe that was thought to be a myth to disappear overnight.

"Of course .... maybe you are the only one left"

Patting your shoulder, Esnera said.

"Let's change your hair and eyes first, because your hair and eyes are the most striking."

That afternoon you passed by trying to walk slowly.

Esmera is a witch, you as an antrabeth tribe know from the elders to stay away from witches, especially dark witches. At first you were quite afraid of Esmera, but Esmera assured you that she had retired, because Esmera is a natural witch, a witch who guards this forest, the same forest where you fell, the same forest where you will live with Esmera.

Witches have many types, but the most famous are dark witches, because they like to hang their victims from trees, create blood rain, during the blood moon and legal witches usually have the ability to hypnotize their victims and do what they want.

And Esmera is a natural witch, a witch who is usually tasked with guarding a forest or natural environment, and they are witches with a retirement age, when they are 40 years old, they are required to retire, in short like that.

But you remain vigilant, because you have only just met Esmera not long ago.

It's been 3 months since the incident you experienced before, now you live with Esmera, the woman is willing to take you in, because Esmera also said that sometimes she lives lonely, even though there are forest animals that accompany her.

Your hair and eyes have been changed by Esmera with a potion of drops, just 1 drop is enough.

Your bright blue hair and galaxy-colored eyes have changed to black and brown.

At first you were not used to it, but the effect of this potion only works for 5 hours, Esmera said to use this potion in certain conditions, such as going to the market or when you are being chased by something that could harm you.

In the afternoon, as usual, you explore the forest with 1 white ferret and a wild deer. Of course you are in disguise, even though this forest is protected by Esmera's magic, you still have to be careful.

Walking enjoying the forest with your two friends on the path you usually take, only to find a man covered in a robe holding his injured stomach.

You who can't see injured people unconsciously approach the man,

"Hello?" you were surprised almost tripping when the man's face appeared in front of you, a handsome face, very exotic brown skin, and... his eyes that had a sharp structure that was bright gold shining.

You have never seen someone with such bright and beautiful eye color, unfortunately you are not aware that your eyes are also very bright and beautiful.

This is the first time you have interacted with someone other than Esmera and the Antrabeth Tribe, and you also don't know who this man is? And from what tribe. That doesn't matter, what's important now is to heal this man and ask him to leave here immediately.

"Go away! Leave me alone!" A harsh and mocking tone.

You don't like this man, okay face, very bad character. But you have the instinct to help others, obviously you won't let this man go just like that.

"I'll help you, in return please get out of here quickly."

The man just looked at you with a suspicious look, but he wasn't as rude as before.

You realized that Esmera would be here soon, and this man might die, because Esmera has a rule that men are destroyers, and they are not allowed to enter this forest.

You think of a quick way, 1 drop of your blood is enough to heal this man's wounds.

"Can you open your mouth?" Asking in a soft and friendly tone. You were only answered with a rough and arrogant voice again, seriously you are now thinking why is this man so arrogant and rude?.

"Why should I open my mouth?! My wound is in my stomach, not in my mouth!".

You dislike this man more and more, you know he suspects you but being rude is also not right and you also realize the two animals that come with you are moving more restlessly.

With one needle prick, you forcefully direct your index finger into the man's mouth, making him inevitably taste 1 drop of your blood.

The man, of course, was surprised and wanted to push you, but he stopped moving when he tasted your blood, blood usually smells like iron and has an unpleasant taste, but your blood, as sweet as nectar, has no iron smell at all.

You wipe your fingers on the man's robe, because there is his saliva left behind.

Then you stand up and say.

"Go immediately, don't ever come back"

Ride the wild deer and ferret that have stayed on your shoulder, you leave the golden-eyed man.

The man just stares at you with a look that is difficult to interpret, then he lifts his shirt a little and sees, the stab wound in his stomach, slowly heals and leaves no scar at all, the man who feeling tired before, became fit and full of energy.

The man slowly stood up out of the forest, his mind still processing who are you?, how can blood heal a very deep and poisonous stab wound?. There were many questions in the man's mind.

The man walked and a few moments later, 2 other women and man came to the man's side bowing slightly.

"Your Highness, we have been looking for you, it is a relief to see you are okay" the women with a scar on her face spoke, with exotic skin too.

Then followed by a man who had blue eyes with exotic tan skin.

"The rebellion has succeeded your Highness, now all the Kurkans are waiting for you, Your Highness Ishakan".

The man... The King of the Kurkans, the new king of the Kurkans tribe, a tribe with animal blood, a tribe that has extraordinary physical abilities and looks, the King of the Kurkans tribe.

Combing his hair slowly, Ishakan only answered briefly to his two aides, Genin the women with a wound on her face, and Haban the man with blue eyes just stared at Ishakan in confusion.

Then Ishakan said.

"Have you two... ever heard of a case where blood can heal wounds in an instant?"

Haban and Genin just looked at each other. Genin as Ishakan's aide and right hand answered.

"I don't think there is any case like that and it sounds very unreal, your Highness".

Ishakan grinned and said.

"Too bad I just experienced it." Ishakan looked back into the dark forest covered in fog.

"I found something very interesting, a very interesting rabbit."

chuckling while grinning, Ishakan walked away followed by his two aides who just stared confusedly at the forest behind them and walked away, towards their kingdom, the large oasis at the western end of the continent.

Ishakan had found a figure that made his instincts scream ripples, the instinct to claim something that was rightfully his, his mate.

*source Images : Pinterest

©️Nymphea0 2024 ,OG story, Project Dark Manhwa Character Series.

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions , Always be good people Dear. Much love , Neva🦋🦋.

Special Story for my Love; @snowflakes666 @nerdygoateepeanut

Tag list; @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr @cannyyyyy @athena-roy @sirenetheblogger

#obsessed #possesive #yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #manhwa x reader #yandere manhwa #Predatory Marriage #Ishakan #Kurkan #nevaerah

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reidsapplelady · 1 month ago

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ᥫ᭡. SNIPER , SNIPER , SNIPER , SNIPER⊹ — /S.REID/

SUMMARY: The BAU tracks a deadly and arrogant sharpshooter. You, an expert in precision, struggle how familiar the unsub's MO is, and has a genius is always by your side, that looks at you with hearts in his eyes.

PAIRING: s.reid x bau!sharpshooter!reader .. established relationship

WARNINGS: mentions of death & blood.

NOTES: tbh i lowk dont like this?? also i'm experimenting on the layout style on my fics dont mind me raauhfhfjf,, anyways someone needs to give me money lowk i need buldaaakk 💔💔 it was like 2am when i wrote this so i think u should expect somr bad grammar!! i also wrote this i na hurry cause i want to sleep,, angways enjoy!! (word count: 1.7k)

The rooftop was cold. You were standing on a rooftop, and you were carrying your rifle, which was unloaded and disarmed. You weren't here to shoot. You were here to see.

To see how the unsub shot their victim. To observe.

"Around three hundred yards," You mumble to to yourself. You were alone. "Most likely no wind resistance." You say as you observe the area where the victim was shot. A single clean shot. No exit wound. Upper left chest was the usual target for the shooter.

"Impressive." Spencer's voice broke the silence behind you, you flinched when you heard his voice.

"You're late." you murmur.

"Walking up a flight of stairs in a hurry isn't really my thing." He chuckled with a sheepish smile, you turned around to face him, you see that he had a drop of sweat that traveled down his forehead. "Oh, and, I bought you coffee." He held up the cup of coffee as he walks towards you.

You take the cup from him, your fingers slightly brushed against his.

"Thank you." You gave him a small smile before setting the rifle on your shoulder with a hand supporting it, then taking to cup from him to takea sip of the coffee, he gives you a smile back.

You glance back at the slight imprint on the ground, "The tripod was here, I'm guessing the unsub was waiting for the target. they knew the victim's routine." you spoke.

Reid leaned in, "The shot traveled 280 meters, thats almost like 3 football fields. Whoever's doing this is precise and patient. Like a sharpshooter." He hummed.

"I know," you exhale, lips pressed tight. "It's too clean."

"You're worried." Spencer spoke as he observes your face, he sees that your eyebrows are slightly furrowed.

"No, I'm pissed." you corrected him before you put your rifle near it's case, "He knew what he was doing and he wanted us to know." You crossed your arms as you stood up, your gaze went back to the scene.

Everything was now silent, all you could hear was the breeze of the air flowing against your skin and hair, and Spencer was there. Reading your facial gestures, he was there reading you.

"You've gone quiet." He muttered to you.

You didn't look at him, "I'm thinking."

"You do that a lot." He said, his head tilted as he spoke.

You turned your head around to meet his eyes, "You love that about me." You tease as you tilted your head back at him.

"I do." He smiled faintly, "I love everything about you."

The tension between you two thickened, you two were staring at eachother before Spencer spoke.

"We should.. Go back." Spencer suggests as he pointed to the door that led to the staircase. You nodded, you handed your cup of coffee to him before kneeling down to put your rifle in your casing and carrying it with you. You take your coffe back andwalk beside Spencer, having small talk while walking down the stairs to go back to the SUV and head back to the precinct.

Back at the precinct the team gathered around the board littered with crime scene photos and evidence. Three victims, killed from a long distance.

"Two men, one woman," Hotch sighed, "No connection between them that we can currently find. But shot placement is identical, all where the upper left chest is targetted. Fatal, but not instant. Why?"

"It's most likely a showmanship." You hypothesized, "He's basically taunting us by making the fatal shot, he could've killed them in an instant, but he didn't." You shrug as some of the team nodded.

"We charted the elevation points, this unsub likes to do it where he can see everyone and no one can see him." Reid informed as he tapped on the map.

JJ frowned, "So.. We're looking at a pattern based on the environment? Not victimology?"

You hummed, "Every setup so far has minimal wind interference, downward line of sight."

Morgan looked over to you, "You profiling the unsub or yourself?"

You shrug at his words, "Sharpshooters are alike, the difference is the motive. LDSK's are no different."

Hotch looked at you with a measured look, "So the unsub probably has military training. He's confident and arrogant."

You nodded at Hotch's words before turning to Spencer who gives you a small smile. "I think we're ready for a profile." Hotch glances up to the team before heading out of the temporary conference room that the precinct made.

After giving the profile, you sat down in the conference room, you prop your legs on the table as you play with the pen in between your fingers.

Spencer knocked on the open door, "You look.. Stressed." He pursed his lips as he slowly walks beside you, taking a seat to sit with you.

You hummed as you looked at the board in front of you. He watched you for a moment longer. Then, he softly spoke, "You look tired." He repeats his words, but not in an exact way.

"I'm fine, Spence." You turn your head to look at him.

"You say that everytime." He frowned slightly as his hand reached for your stray hair and tucked it behind your ear.

You finally exhaled, "I feel like I've seen this before, but I can't recall who did it."

Soencer didn't offer empty empathy, instead he listened, he listened and read your face. He gently reached out for the pen that you were playing with in between your fingers and set it on the table, then his fingers wrapped around yours. Warm and Comforting.

"We'll see it." He assured you as his grip tightened slightly before letting go, letting his hand relax against yours. "For now, you need rest."

You found the fourth site out of luck, or maybe it wasn't. Either way the UnSub left the shell of his ammunition, with a paper beside it.

The site was a playground.

"He flinched." You murmured as Spencer cane up behind you with a confused look.

"He usually targets left upper chest area. This one was just on the shoulder." You look at him.

He then hummed, "His first mistake."

"He's getting sloppy" You sighed, and something in your head clicked.

"What are you thinking?" Spencer tilts his head slightly as he asks you.

"I don't think this was about the targets."

JJ jogged over the two of you, "We just got something from the precinct." She says as she hands her phone to you.

Hotch sent the image. It was a photo—You. Taken across the street, you were out taking a breather fron things inside the precinct, wearing your leather jacket.

You notice a paper next to the photo. "You look good in black." In red. A color that looked like blood.

You stared at it for a few moments. You hear Spencer's voice next to you. "That looks like blood." He points out. "I think that might be the unsub's, he was no where near the crime scene."

Your breathe hitched, you raise your head to look at JJ. "It's still being processed."

You hand her phone back to her before you walk over to the nearest bench to sit down. Spencer follows you, but doesn't say a thing, until he sits down beside you.

"You're the target. The woman who he shot looked like you." He muttered.

"You think I don't know that?" You snapped, you look at Spencer, wide-eyed, you clear your throat before mumbling an apology to him. He nods in understanding.

After a while, you planned a setup for the unsub. Spencer and JJ disapproved of it, because you would be putting your life at risk. But you assured the team that you wouldn't get killed. Atleast that's what you think.

After you picked the location and time, you had to wait a day before commencing with the plan and it didn't take long for him to find you. You were out in the open, an easy shot, but a bullet flies past you. It makes you suspicious.

Spencer yelled your name from afar, though, you couldn't hear it because you heard another shot, thankfully you ducked to tie your shoe.

"Shots fired! Two shooters!" Morgan's voice blasted through the earpiece.

You fall on your bottom, you see Spencer running towards you, but you paid no mind to him because you were observing the buildings. Then you saw it.

One on the rooftop while the other was in the third floor.

The original was the one who shot you, you don't recognize the other shot made, you figured it was an accomplice or a prodigy of the unsub.

Spencer dropped beside you, "You okay?" he frowned

"Yeah." You pointed to the building where the shots were fired. "I want both of them alive."

And you had to wait for a few moments, before Emily's voice came through the earpiece, "We got the unsub and his assistant."

You sighed out of relief before you slung your arms towards Spencer, giving him a hug.

He pats your back two times before you let go.

Turns out, the unsub was your colleague who was your shooting partner in the practice range back then in the military, when you weren't at the BAU yet. He liked to shoot from heights, and he was dishonorably discharged from the military.

You leaned against the ambulance as the EMT clears you for any injuries. You notice Spencer walking towards you with a bottle of water. He offers it to you and you chuckle before grabbing it.

You took a sip from the water bottle and set it beside you on the ambulance.

"You were.. Brave." He smiled at you.

"I was about to chicken out before the shots were fired." You joke as you held his hand.

"I think.. We should take a break." You purse your lips.

He blinked at you, "From us?" He asks.

"No silly, just from.. Everything. It's been overwhelming for me and I don't know for you."

He nodded, "Did you know that theres a tree in the Amazon Rainforest that stores rainwater in its bark? It's enough to drink from in weeks."

You cock an eyebrow at him, "What are you implying?"

"I'm saying is that I wanna be that bark for you." He smiles sheepishly, "I wanna support you and be there for you."

You stare at him in confusion for a few moments before laughing, "That's such a weird way to put it."

He looks at you lovingly before he presses a kiss on your lips, his hand cups your cheek.

As you two kissed, everything then felt quiet, like the universe suddenly stopped.

Everything was perfect.

Spencer was yours and you were his.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #°⋆. aure's signature⋆ . :#˚˖ aure's writings ˚.⋆

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newmoonlover009 · 5 months ago

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Distracted - Charlie Swan

“Just kiss me.”

Charlie Swan x Fem!Reader

Summary - Bella tasks you to keep Charlie distracted as she battles her new "sickness." You do as she says. In more ways than one.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: 18+, sexual content, age gap (reader is 23), lying, subtle angst, quickie, fast-paced, kissing, slight grinding/dry humping, neck kissing, unprotected piv sex, a bit of cock warming, cream pie, the use of the words "cunt" and "cock," and the pet name "baby."

(Let me know if I missed any.)

Disclaimer: Apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes. Twilight au—details won’t be accurate to the films or books—they are rewritten to fit the story.

a/n - yippee, my first post on my multi-fandom account. In all honesty, I did not proofread this one shot as thoroughly as I usually do. So, apologies in advance if it seems rushed. Enjoy <3

Truth be told, you know of Bella’s… “condition.”

Why she entrusts you with her secret—you don’t know. You’ve only known Bella briefly, having moved to Forks just a year before her return. When word spread that she’d be coming home, Charlie asked you personally to become her friend—a mentor of sorts, even. With long hours at the station, Charlie didn’t have the time to hover, even when he really wanted to.

Bella liked to think Charlie didn’t hover, but he did. Even now.

“Good morning, Chief Swan!” You yelled from your porch, greeting the Chief like you did every chance you got. The two of you had been neighbors for quite some time now since you moved in right across the street into the smallest house in the neighborhood with your mom.

“Mornin’.” Charlie’s gruff voice carried across the street. Usually, he’d disappear into his lonesome house, and only leave when he was called to the station. This time, however, he paused at his door in thought. You watched curiously as he turned around, immediately locking eyes with you, and cautiously approaching your quaint porch.

“I hear your daughter is coming to town, Chief. That’s big news.” You offered conversation, still curious as to why he was purposely approaching you. Charlie was a kind man, and sometimes even friendly to outsiders, but he was still closed off. Perhaps it was your age that prompted him to maintain his distance—two decades is a large difference. Younger people probably freaked him out, you figured.

“Yeah, I’m real excited.” Though, his unenthusiastic tone said otherwise. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk about.”

“Oh, okay.” You remained an open mind, waiting for an elaboration of sorts. “What about?”

“In all honesty, I need you to do me a favor.” His tone was serious, not asking, but rather telling. You would’ve agreed either way.

“Of course, what’s up?” It seemed as though he struggled to find the words to ask, his brows furrowed as he thought intently.

“Bella hasn’t lived here since, well, a long time. She visits, sure, but other than that, she doesn’t know anyone here.” That didn’t surprise you, especially since you hadn’t seen her once since living there. What he said next, however, did surprise you. “I need you to keep an eye on her for me. I know it’s a lot to ask, but you’re close in age, right? Maybe you can provide some… input in her life that I can’t.” Well, not quite close in age. She was 17. You were 21.

“Oh, Chief Swan, I—”

“Charlie.” He corrected you.

“Charlie.” You repeated. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Bella doesn’t know me, and quite frankly, I don’t know her. You do, though.”

“Please?” He looked defeated—embarrassed that he had to enlist the help of his neighbor to welcome his teenage daughter. After seeing the silently begging look on his face, you couldn’t say no.

So, when she called you once the plane landed, returning from her short-lived honeymoon with Edward, your vision blurred and hearing rang as she whimpered the words “vampire” and “pregnant.” She informed you that tensions were high between the Cullens; debating whether she should keep it or… “get rid of it.” Alice, Edward, and Jacob strongly advocated for the latter. You, however, only knew that Bella needed a friend.

It kills you to keep a secret of this magnitude from Charlie—who’s been pacing back and forth since you arrived. Bella asked you to keep an eye on him—a trend in the Swan family, it seems—and to keep him distracted so he wouldn’t drive to the Cullen house himself and demand answers.

“Charlie, please—”

“What do you mean I can’t see her? Is she okay?” His tone is frantic; worried.

“She’s fine. She just contracted a virus and didn’t want to worry you. Clearly, it’s not working.”

“So why can’t she call me? Why are you the one telling me?” Because he’ll know something is wrong by the sound of her voice.

“Because she wanted the information given in person. She thought you deserved more than a phone call.” You deserve the truth, you think to yourself, but you’ve made a promise to Bella.

“Where’s this medical facility? I’ll go there myself–” There is no medical facility. She’s shacked up at the Cullen house just miles away.

“No, Charlie, you can’t. She didn’t even tell me, so there’s no way of you knowing.” You hate how the lies roll off your tongue with ease. He huffs in frustration at your answer, finally taking a seat on the couch while you stand just feet away in front of the television. Sorrow settles like a brick in your gut, so you sit in the empty spot just beside him, your hand landing on his shoulder to offer support. “I’m really sorry, Charlie, but you know she’s in the best hands. Edward–or Carlisle–won’t let anything bad happen to her.”

“I know…” His voice trails off, uncertainty clear in his tone. He knows you’re right, but you also know that the protective dad in him can’t sit idly by. Your heart aches to see the way his eyes glaze over, his brows in a perpetual frown since Bella left for her honeymoon. The poor man hasn’t been the same since the wedding.

His house is empty again and his routine has fallen back into what it was before she came home; working every chance he gets and ordering takeout every night. His incessant sullen gaze has returned; his eyes are no longer softer like they were when Bella was here. You feel her absence as well. The house is eerily quiet–colder than usual–and the smaller things that accumulated in their shared spaces have been packed away and moved. Alice took the liberty of packing Bella’s things.

Your relationship–or rather acquaintance–with Charlie has nearly withered since her departure. There’s no need to speak to him unless it’s to relay a message, like the unfortunate one you’re delivering now. Still, you greet him with a good morning, afternoon, and evening when you see him; which is rare. You quite enjoyed being a part of Charlie’s life, even if it was through Bella, and you felt as though you had finally cracked the man who would hardly speak to you since you moved in.

“She’ll be okay. I promise.” It’s a stupid promise to make when you’re unsure of the outcome yourself.

“I guess you’re right.” He lets out a heavy sigh, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his face falling into his hands.

You gently nod to yourself, taking that as your sign to leave. You’ve done all that you can at the moment; told him of Bella’s “sickness,” given him peace of mind, and ensured that he wouldn’t attempt to see her in person. All things Bella instructed you to do. You feel terrible knowing Charlie’s original plan was for you to watch over Bella, and now it’s been completely flipped in the opposite direction.

“I should get going.” You announce, patting his shoulder and grabbing his attention once more. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything else from her.”

Charlie nods, his warm eyes finding yours. He lifts himself from the couch with a gentle huff and stands to walk you to the door, as he always does. As you mirror his movements, the two of you face each other, subtle awkwardness creeping into the space between you. He’s decently taller than you, forcing your head to tilt back as you match his gaze. His eyes are masking a million different emotions, just screaming to be let out, so you provide the only form of comfort you can think of. Lifting your arms from your sides to reach toward him, his watchful eyes observe your actions as you lazily wrap them around his waist.

His body freezes, stunned by your affection, as you rest your head against his broad chest. Your cheek lays against his cotton T-shirt, saturated in his warm scent—woodsy, cinnamon, and smoky–as if he had just built a fire to combat the slowly approaching frost. A beat passes before you feel his arms wrap around your shoulders, his head craning down to rest his scruffed cheek on the top of your head. His heart is pounding in his chest, the muffled sound knocking against your ear. As if to absorb his hurt, you hug him more firmly, your hands interlocking behind him as you adjust your grip.

“Thank you for coming over.” His defeated voice finally speaks above you, and a hand soothingly rubs your shoulder. “It was nice seeing you again.”

The feeling's mutual. The last real conversation you had with him was the wedding night. It hurt your feelings a bit; further confirming that Charlie was only interested in talking to you about Bella, nothing more. Sure, that was the deal, but you had hoped for more. Whatever “more” was, you still aren’t sure.

“Of course.” You breathe out, leaning back to look up at him, your arms still wrapped around him. “I hope to see you again soon. Under better circumstances.”

“Me too.” He lets out a defeated chuckle, the humor absent. “Let me walk you out.”

Although, neither of you moves. His hands stay spread on the expanse of your back as his conflicted gaze bores into yours. An unspoken magnetic pull lures you to him, his eyes locking yours in a curious trance. Your stomach flips when he swiftly leans in, capturing your lips in a chaste kiss. Mere milliseconds pass before his lips are ripped away; just as quickly as they had come.

Your eyes widen and the grip you have on him releases as you take a precautionary step back. Jaw falling slack, your lips part in utter shock, and your eyes blink rapidly as if you’re in a haze. Your face has surely turned crimson, the heat creeping up your neck and settling in the peaks of your cheeks. The look on his face, however, is just as shocked as you are–like he couldn’t believe he did that. He looks… ashamed. It’s almost visible on his face–the way his thoughts race–his voice catching in his throat as if to offer an explanation.

“Charlie…”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

“Kiss me again.” You rush out, “Please.”

“Are you sure–”

“Just kiss me.” You nearly groan. Unable to wait a moment longer, you step forward to close the short distance between you two, your arms finding their way around his neck and feet standing on their tippy-toes. Your lips crash onto his, your eyes fluttering close as his hands snake around your waist, desperately gripping at your clothed skin. A low hum purrs from his throat while he deepens the kiss, dipping his head lower to accommodate you and satisfy his fast-growing hunger. His mustache and the stubble on his chin rub against you, adding to the pleasurable sensation pooling in your gut.

This was not what you intended when you were tasked with keeping him distracted, but you can’t find a part of you willing to stop. Not when he pulls you in closer by the waist, his fingers digging deeper into your heated flesh, grasping at you so you can’t pull away–like you ever would.

Taking the initiative, your tongue darts from your parted lips, swiping along his bottom lip and eliciting a groan from Charlie. The sound is like music to your ears, only fueling you further when your hands find his loose waves, gripping gently and tugging at the roots. Following your lead, his tongue combats yours, invading your senses with his taste, his smell, him.

Without breaking the persisting kiss, Charlie moves you both and pulls you with him as he lands on the couch in a seated position. Instinctually, your legs straddle him–your skirt lifting and bunching at your hips–and you finally lean away from him to catch your breath, your chest heaving in response. Through parted lips, Charlie lets out quick huffs, his back slowly leaning against the couch to allow his eyes to rake over your appearance; flushed cheeks, kiss-swollen lips, and hooded eyes that silently beg for more.

The sight of him is ungodly; sitting man-spread, hands now lazily resting against your hips, and eyes that flood with lust–the chocolatey irises being swallowed by dilated pupils. You need more of him.

Slouching slightly, you lean into him as your lips connect with his neck, leaving sloppy open-mouth kisses along the sensitive skin. His head tilts to the side to grant better access as a strained noise collects on the tip of his tongue. Your hips absently move against him and a surprised sound comes from you when the bulge of his jeans lines up with your aching core. The dull sensation urges you to seek more friction, making Charlie’s hands grip your hips to assist in your efforts.

Soft, satisfied sighs brush past your lips as you continue your work on his exposed neck, pulling small grunts from him and subtle jerks of his hips.

“Are you sure you want this?” His drawn voice calls to you, letting you know you can stop while you’re ahead. The thing is, you don��t want to.

“So sure.” You mumble against his skin. “Are you?” Asking sincerely, you stop what you’re doing to catch his gaze.

He only nods, his eyes darting to your lips and hands absently squeezing, encouraging you to continue. Slowly, you roll your hips against him, building the previous friction back up. The feeling is deliciously teasing, only reaching a certain level of fulfillment before it becomes unbearable. You hold his line of sight, watching as his face gently contorts into a frustrated frown, needing more as much as you do. His brows furrow, creasing the skin between them, and a low grumble gathers in his chest as his legs shift restlessly beneath you.

Releasing your grip from his hair, your hands lay flat as they palm at his shoulders, spread across his chest, and travel down his abdomen, pausing just above the waistband of his jeans. You halt your hip movements, letting your fingers tease at the zipper before asking, “Can I?”

“Please.”

It’s the only word he can muster before you undo the zipper at a tantalizing pace, the soft noise only adding to the fluttering feeling gathering in your lower belly. You quickly unfasten the jeans button, folding the rough denim fabric over to expose his boxers beneath. His jaw clenches when you tug the waistband of his jeans down just enough to reach into the stretchy material and firmly grip him. His stomach visibly tightens through his shirt, a low grunt exiting with a shaky breath as you free his hardened cock. Impressive.

Your closed fist works up and down his length a few times, admiring the way precum leaks from the reddened tip, pouring over onto your hand. Charlie struggles to show restraint as his hips shift upward to match your rhythm. You’re eager as well, feeling wetness gather and soak into the cotton fabric of your underwear.

Impatience gets the better of you when you release him, smirking at the sound of protest from him as your hands find the bottom hem of your skirt and tug the clothing item upward to gather around your waist. His mouth clamps shut when your soaked underwear comes into view, exposing the absolute arousal he elicits from you. Usually, you’d opt for more foreplay, but you need him–you need him now.

Unwilling to waste time, you pull your underwear to the side, using your other hand to grasp Charlie once more. With a little maneuvering, you scoot closer to him, lifting yourself slightly to align him with your cunt. He sucks in a sharp breath when you run the tip through your velvety folds, gathering every ounce of arousal before stopping at your dripping entrance.

Slowly, you lower yourself, allowing your hips to sink onto him and inch his way into you. Neither of you dares to breathe as your walls stretch around him, welcoming him and swallowing every inch until you’ve sunken completely. Both of you gasp–for air, and because of the way his cock twitches and your walls squeeze around him. He’s filled you entirely and you bite back the moan that begs to release. Without even moving, the feeling itself is euphoric.

“I need a minute.” He admits, his voice gravelly and forcing self-control.

“Me too.” You breathe out, your hands resting against his waist for support.

Staying put, you lean forward, capturing his lips in a leisurely kiss. The moments leading up to this one have gone by in a blur, having happened so fast. You savor him, enjoying the way he can’t control the soft groans you swallow as your lips work against his, your walls pulsing in response.

Your hands travel from below you, your fingertips ghosting over his lower stomach, his ribs, and his chest before settling on the sides of his face. His stubble scratches the surface of your palms as you deepen the kiss, humming in satisfaction when he invades your mouth with his tongue. Growing impatient, you feel Charlie’s hands grip tighter, urging you to lift your hips.

The kiss is unbreaking as you follow his lead, letting him raise your hips and pull you back down onto his length. You moan into his mouth as he repeats this action a few more times before you decide to take over. Heavy breaths blow through his nose as you speed up, creating a steady rhythm that satisfies the both of you. You’re unsure how long you’ll last given the coil that’s been wound up tight since grinding against him fully clothed, which technically, you still are.

With your breath picking up, you break the kiss to focus solely on lifting and lowering your hips. The pace is growing quicker, and you notice Charlie’s hips moving to match your efforts. Resting your forehead against his, you lock eyes as you allow an uncontrollable string of moans to push past your plump lips, your eyebrows scrunching in pure pleasure.

“I’m so close.” You confess, feeling your walls flutter around him in that familiar rhythmic pattern.

“Keep going, baby.” His encouragement and use of the pet name through clenched teeth signals that his climax is nearing as well.

Preserving energy and seeking release, you grind your hips instead, and you nearly cry out when your swollen clit rubs against him. It’s enough to bring you to the edge, your climax teetering and waiting to be pushed over. With a few more passes of your grinding hips, it doesn’t take long, and your head flies back to let out a drawn-out moan.

“Oh god, Charlie.” Your voice points to the ceiling as your eyes squeeze shut, your hips sputtering against him. Your cunt pulses frantically around him as you continue your movements, riding out your crashing orgasm and urging Charlie to do the same.

From the force of your climax, Charlie isn’t far behind. His name leaves your lips in an exasperated whimper, being repeated like a mantra. When your head falls forward, and your spent stare captures his, it’s enough to send him over the edge. With a choked groan, you feel his cock twitch inside you, coating your walls with hot cum as he stares deeply into you. Determined to wring out his orgasm, your hips move languidly despite the overwhelming sensation it creates for you, watching as his stomach flexes sporadically.

He lets out a choked noise when he’s finished, the grip on your hips loosening and prompting you to slow to a stop. The mixture of your releases drips out of you, pooling at the base of his cock. Both of you breathe heavily, your chests heaving in harmony as your eyes bore into each other.

You expect a feeling of regret to wash over you, but it never comes.

Instead, Charlie’s hands slide to your waist and pull you closer, his lips peppering gentle kisses along your jaw, hairline, and lips. He reaches over beside him, grabbing a flannel he left draped over the back of the couch. Carefully, he drapes the patterned material over your shoulders, and your hands drop from his face, letting you lean forward and rest your head against his chest. You aren’t necessarily cold, but having shared an intimate moment with him, Charlie feels the need to cover you–to make you feel less exposed and to provide care.

“We should get cleaned up.” You mumble against him, feeling him soften inside of you.

“Okay…” His voice trails off, as if deep in thought. A beat passes before he speaks again, his gruff voice rumbling against your cheek from deep within his chest. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

You smile, genuinely in what feels like forever, “I’d love to.”

Tags:

#charlie swan x reader #charlie swan smut #charlie swan #twilight saga #twilight #the twilight saga #charlie swan fanfiction #charlie swan fic #charlie swan fanfic

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astrotruther · 2 months ago

Text

🔗 Lilith in the signs

their shadow side ft. songs that clock them too accurately.

♈️ LILITH IN ARIES

Their anger is a reflex, not a choice.

Secretly terrified of being controlled, so they control first—chaotically.

'I don’t hold grudges!' (rewrites history to paint themselves as the wronged party.)

Will fight you over a parking spot.

Smudged eyeliner, broken phone screens, unsent rage drafts.

♉️ LILITH IN TAURUS

Keeps a mental spreadsheet of every favor, compliment, or crumb of attention they’ve ever given.

"I’m not possessive, I just know what’s mine." (stares at you like you’re a straying pet.)

Silent treatment lasts longer than most relationships.

Will spend $200 on a candle to "treat themselves" after you forgot their coffee order once.

Vintage perfume bottles, handwritten lists with aggressive underlining.

♊️ LILITH IN GEMINI

Weaponizes forgetfulness to dodge accountability.

"It’s not lying, it’s narrative improvisation."

Starts debates just to watch you sweat. Changes sides mid-argument for fun.

Ghosts for months, then slides into your DMs like "you up? also, defend this political take."

Screenshots of deleted texts, meme warfare, unhinged Google Docs.

🎵 Who are you to recognize me / You frogs who live up to your name / I hope you die in that well - 땡 (Ddaeng) - BTS

♋️ LILITH IN CANCER

Cooks you soup while listing all the ways you’ve disappointed them.

'I’m fine :)' (cries in the shower for 3 hours because you used a tone.)

Collects your vulnerabilities like seashells—for safekeeping, obviously.

Will remember that thing you said in 2017 and weaponize it during a fight about pizza toppings.

Faded polaroids, saltwater-stained journals, cottagecore revenge plans.

♌️ LILITH IN LEO

Posts a thirst trap after any minor ego bruise. "Ugh, just feeling ugly today :/ (pls argue.)"

"I don’t need attention!" (sets themselves on fire metaphorically until someone notices.)

Secretly wants to be the ex you never get over. Leaves a sweater at your place on purpose.

Harsh flash selfies, dramatic Spotify playlists, Notes app manifestos.

♍️ LILITH IN VIRGO

"I’ll fix you :)" (proceeds to dismantle your entire personality like IKEA furniture.)

Nitpicks their own happiness into oblivion. "This joy is imperfect. I reject it."

Corrects your grammar mid-breakup. "It’s ‘you’re,’ not ‘your’ devastating me."

Neat highlighters, spreadsheets of your flaws, passive-aggressive sticky notes.

♎️ LILITH IN LIBRA

Flirts with the waiter to get free dessert, flirts with you to win an argument.

"I just want peace!" (stirs the pot, then acts shocked when it boils over.)

Dumps you but leaves the door open just enough to keep you orbiting.

Mirror selfies with cryptic captions, Pinterest boards titled "Vibe Shift."

♏️ LILITH IN SCORPIO

Asks invasive questions to "test your loyalty," then punishes you for answering wrong.

"I don’t trust anyone." (makes you earn it via psychological hazing.)

Their silence isn’t peaceful—it’s forensic.

Black candles, redacted text posts, unsent poems in blood-red ink.

♐️ LILITH IN SAGITTARIUS

"I just speak the truth!" (the truth is whatever hurts you most in the moment.)

Claims moral high ground from a moving vehicle.

Will backpack across Asia to avoid processing a breakup.

Blurry travel pics, deleted tweets, vaguebooking about "freedom."

♑️ LILITH IN CAPRICORN

Replaces therapy with productivity. "Can’t cry, I have a 5-year plan."

"I don’t get attached." (secretly mourns you for a decade.)

Rejects you before you can reject them.

Monochrome selfies, LinkedIn hustle posts, locked diaries.

♒️ LILITH IN AQUARIUS

"I don’t care." (organizes your entire life from afar to prove they don’t care.)

Treats love like a sociological experiment. "Fascinating. Now suffer."

Leaves group chats without explanation as a power move.

Glitch art, cryptic polls, unsent rants in the drafts.

♓️ LILITH IN PISCES

Love-bombs you into a daydream, then vanishes when it gets real.

'You misunderstood me :(' (you understood them perfectly—that’s the problem.)

Will forgive a crime but hold a grudge over how you said "good morning" in 2022.

Blurry film photos, deleted love letters, Spotify wrapped full of sadbreakcore.

🎵 In the dream I shortly went into / My agonizing phantom pain is still the same - Singularity - BTS

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cami040405 · 2 months ago

Note

Vincent Sinclair courting headcannons but the reader does not know asl and tries to, but it’s very hard for her to be interested in it? Maybe they text each other? You can choose the genre

Vincent Sinclair Courting Headcannons

Summary: Vincent Sinclair quietly courts you, you struggle to learn ASL despite wanting to communicate with him. Though frustrated by your slow progress, you continues to try, and you rely on texts, sketches, and small gestures to connect.

A/N: I loved writing this request, imagining how Vincent Sinclair would communicate with the reader. I found this approach interesting because in my story, Between Art And Silence, Vincent speaks. If you want to check it out, the link is in the text.

When Vincent first starts to court you, he tries to communicate mostly through body language and gestures — soft touches on the arm, a hand held out to guide you somewhere, or leaving little sketches for you to find.

He doesn’t expect you to know ASL at all — in fact, he seems almost guilty or hesitant to use it in front of you, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

Bo teases him, of course: “Tryin’ to woo someone who can’t even read your love notes, huh?” But Vincent shrugs it off, used to being misunderstood — until you try.

You suggest texting. Vincent doesn’t like technology much, but for you? He adapts.

He keeps his old, beat-up phone charged just so you two can have late-night text conversations. He’s not wordy, but his messages are always careful and intentional.

“Did you eat today?”“You looked sad. Want me to sit with you?”“The stars are out. Thought of you.”

You try. You really do. But ASL doesn’t come naturally to you — the grammar feels strange, and your hands just don’t move the way you want them to.

Sometimes you mess up signs badly enough that he chuckles silently and gently corrects you, guiding your hands with his own, warm fingers. It’s frustrating — not because he’s impatient (he never is), but because you want to understand him better. Still, it’s hard to stay interested when your brain just doesn’t click with it.

Vincent notices right away. He sees the tension in your shoulders, the way your eyes dart away in embarrassment after a failed attempt. He never pressures you. Instead, he starts drawing more — sketching out how he feels, what he wants to say, or what he notices about you. You have an entire drawer full of little drawings he’s made just for you.

Sometimes he’ll use one hand to sign something simple and the other to type it on his phone — a hybrid method that eases the burden for you.

Vincent expresses love in actions: brushing your hair behind your ear, fixing a squeaky cabinet in your room without asking, leaving your favorite tea beside your bed. He sometimes signs I love you slowly, just so you’ll recognize it. Even if you can't respond in ASL, you always press his hand to your cheek, showing that you know. One night, you sign something almost right — “You’re beautiful,” maybe — and he just stares at you like you hung the moon, his face flushing under his mask.

You might not become fluent in ASL, and that’s okay. Vincent never wanted perfection from you. He just wanted your effort — and you gave him your heart, one crooked sign and midnight text at a time.

You sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, a pit growing quietly in your stomach as you stared at the screen.

Your latest attempt at learning ASL had ended with a migraine and three nearly-broken fingers from accidentally jamming them trying to mimic a video. The app had long been closed. You were done for the night.

The silence in Ambrose was heavy, as always, broken only by the low hum of the cooling fan in Vincent’s workshop down the hall. He had texted you an hour ago:

“Working. Come by when you’re tired. Want you near.”

You had smiled when you saw it. He rarely typed that much.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel like a disappointment. It had been weeks, and you could barely manage the alphabet. Meanwhile, Vincent was patient — too patient — like he knew you’d give up eventually and was already forgiving you for it.

A soft knock on your door.

Not Bo. Too gentle.

You opened it to find Vincent, mask reflecting the faint glow of the hallway light, tall and silent. He held a sketchpad in one hand and his phone in the other. He tilted his head.

“Hi,” you whispered.

He nodded once, then tapped on his phone.

“Can I come in?”

You stepped aside and let him in. He smelled faintly of wax and pine, and the sleeves of his long shirt were pushed up, revealing pale arms marred with old scars and dried streaks of charcoal.

He sat on the floor, cross-legged like always, and you joined him.

You watched his hands carefully as he began to sign something — slow, deliberate. You caught maybe one word. “You…”

“Wait.” You reached for your phone and typed:

“I don’t know what you said. I’m sorry.”

He read it, then looked at you. There was no disappointment in his eyes, no hint of judgment — only that quiet depth he always carried, something heavy and old and kind.

He pulled his sketchpad into his lap and flipped it open.

The drawing was simple — the two of you sitting together, knees touching, your head leaned gently on his shoulder. Your face was wrong — lopsided, eyes too big — but you recognized the moment. It had been three days ago. He’d remembered.

You blinked back the sting in your eyes.

“I’m trying,” you whispered. “I just… it’s hard.”

He nodded. Then, slowly, he lifted his hands and signed something else.

You didn’t get it. Not all of it. Maybe “feel” or “you”. Something about safe. But you couldn’t be sure.

Your hands lifted without thinking. You fumbled to shape a sign you’d practiced — badly — one you hoped you wouldn’t screw up again.

You signed “beautiful”, aiming it toward him.

Vincent froze.

Not like he was offended. More like… stunned. Like he didn’t understand the word could ever apply to him.

He reached slowly and took your hand — large, warm fingers wrapping around yours, guiding them, correcting the shape gently.

You laughed nervously. “I messed it up, didn’t I?”

He shook his head. Then, he signed again — slowly, so you could follow.

“I love you.”

Three motions. You’d seen them before, sure, but never directed at you. Not like this. Not from him.

Your breath hitched.

You didn’t know how to sign it back.

So instead, you leaned forward and pressed his hand to your cheek, closing your eyes.

He held still.

He didn’t pull away.

And in the silence that followed, in the soft weight of his fingers against your skin, you realized that love wasn’t always spoken — not in words, or even in perfect signs.

Sometimes, it was drawn.

Sometimes, it was typed out awkwardly at midnight.

And sometimes, it was felt in the gentle way someone stayed, even when you didn’t know how to say “I love you” the right way.

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pearlcigs · 3 months ago

Note

ignore the fact I’m sending this right after u posted… I got notifs on for u!!!

I lowkey do not remember if Joel got got in this universe.. but Ellie texts Joel asking for advice bcz she rlly loves reader and Joel helps her draft up a paragraph (bonus points if she tries her hardest to use good grammar) and a date :3

great work guys im gonna start putting you to work more often and i hate to break it to u guys but this is the final part 🙁 yes yes so sad BUT it was fun i hope... but like theres not much left to do w it so unless someone sends like a REALLLLYYY good idea this is it i fear hope u guys enjoy

(this is ellies pov again btw)

⋆ texts with dealer!ellie — tlou discord server

the air was stuffy, blowing into your face and through your hair when you open the door. you didn't bother putting on anything decent, residing in your lounge clothes without caring for ellie's opinion. you saw her, looking down at her phone and leaning against the door of her car with a bouquet of flowers in her hand. she looks up as she hears the noise, standing up straighter and slipping her phone into her pocket. she smiles half-heartedly and it almost makes you swoon.

you walk down the path way until you reach ellie, the wind blowing the scent of her to seep into you entirely. it smells so nostalgic. "ellie." you mutter in a hushed tone. she hands out the bouquet to you, the red roses looking a little smushed and on their way out. you examined them, seeing the price tag on the cellophane encasing the flowers. they were on clearance. "5 bucks for half rotted flowers? wow, you must be really sorry." the sarcasm in your voice made ellie's smile falter. "this was all they had left." she admits, her voice sounding quieter than yours, if that was even possible.

she sounds genuine, you think, and seeing the smile fall from her face does make your heart ache. were you really feeling pitiful for her? "i got— there's other stuff too." she stammers nervously, you'd never seen her like this before. so bashful, her shoulders slumped. so different to the usual loud and confident ellie you know, or knew. "half rotted chocolate next?" you keep up with the sarcasm, the hurt burrowed in your heart taking priority over your pity. "no." she huffs out a small laugh, but it's more nervous and awkward than anything. she feels insecure that you still haven't accepted the flowers yet.

"it's just some stuff you said you liked. candy, that chapstick you talked about, those cds you were looking everywhere for." she says it like it's no big deal, like your heart didn't drop to your stomach at her remembrance of the offhanded things you said while smoking. "really?" you can't believe it, or rather, you don't want to believe it. cause then you would be wrong about ellie, everything you thought she was. "what? you don't believe me?" she scoffs and her shy demeanor vanishes slightly, anger flowing through her. you thought that low of her? for you to think she was lying straight to your face?

"it was silent after her tiny outburst. she clears her throat, she didn't mean that. "yes, really..." she corrects herself. she tries again, holding the flowers out further to you, gesturing for you to take them. "this doesn't change anything." you couldn't look at her as you took the flowers from her finally. "it does." she whispers, watching as you brought the bouquet up to your face to smell the roses. "maybe." you feed into it, going along with what was happening. "i'm crazy about you. you do crazy shit to my head." ellie admits. "

it was silent after her tiny outburst. she clears her throat, she didn't mean that. "yes, really..." she corrects herself. she tries again, holding the flowers out further to you, gesturing for you to take them. "this doesn't change anything." you couldn't look at her as you took the flowers from her finally. "it does." she whispers, watching as you brought the bouquet up to your face to smell the roses. "maybe." you feed into it, going along with what was happening. "i'm crazy about you. you do crazy shit to my head." ellie admits.

"i want to forgive you." you follow her honesty, admitting your own feelings. "then forgive me." she pleads, hands finding their way to your waist. "i'm scared." it was the truth, she'd hurt you once who was to say she wouldn't do it again? "then we can be scared together." she swallows nervously, taking in your features, your reaction to her words. you felt better, as sick as it was. knowing she was scared too made it somehow feel less scary. she would probably hurt you again, maybe next tuesday, but like she said. how is she supposed to grow if you don't give her a chance.

tags : @kokoch4nel @ellies1luvr @frillydolle @macaroni676 @lilibach @prettyyyy-girl @anonymous-user240 @liizzygrant @yourl0caltrash @cattjull @liztreez @luvcalii @lexxvy @ifiwereabug @aria7silver @starpix @liasxeatt @satorix @wishesofficial @polarhues @usuck @eclipcee8 @nosferatuv @clouded-whispers @dykesofcydonia @rhyrhy @witzs @fawnedolly @confiaenanaa @elliecoochieeater @minnixiii @n0t-elliewilliams @yaegerphobic . @abbysgolf-club

dealer!ellie masterlist

#🍄 ⋆ the last of us #dealer!ellie #the last of us x reader #the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie the last of us #ellie williams texts #ellie williams smau #tlou x reader #tlou #texts with ellie williams #tlou smau #the last of us smau

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coralinnii · 2 years ago

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Can I ask for Vil, Took or Malleus (any of them, or multiple depending on how cool you are with it) when they find their s/O gives them cute handmade gifts? Baked treats, books, paintings and such. I completely understand if you can't get to this, but if you decide to take this up, It'll be really really cool! Thanks and have a great day!

‎‧₊˚✧Made with Love✧˚₊‧

↳ Reader S/O who made him handmade gifts

feat: Vil ❋ Rook ❋ Malleus genre: fluff note: no pronouns used with the reader, established relationships, nicknames were used for readers (spudling, mon tresor, dear, child of man), probably bad grammar and usage of French because of Rook,

To anyone who were wondering for my sudden MIA status…I got sick, like hella sick. I’m not the greatest at taking care of myself and apparently my body decided to teach me a lesson for that by leaving me down for the count for 2 weeks then giving me migraines if I spend even 20 minutes in front of a screen for another week. To be fair, I could have recovered quicker if I actually…rested and took care of myself but hey, lessons were learned.

I literally started this a month ago but now I need to relearn the characters because my brain can’t remember anything, so I’m sorry if it isn’t the greatest T_T

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

To say he was suspicious was an understatement. Vil was a man of routine and he could tell when something was amiss as the days went by. Little differences were of no cause of concern, but when his little spudling is just acting too skittish, the blond just couldn’t let it go.

At first, Vil was content with scolding you for the little bad habits you started. He caught you too many times hunching your neck and back, and the eyebags forming under your eyes were too concerning to him to ignore.

He had to physically hold in his gasp however, when you refused to come over to his dorm for a skincare date. He tried to be understanding when you claimed you had too much homework to come over, but he could do without Rook having to point out that he was sulking.

Yes Rook, Vil is very aware he could get early wrinkles.

Frustration turned to concern as Vil was quick to pick up that you were hiding something from him. Occasionally, he could see you quickly hiding something from his sight before smiling.

Insecurity soon struck him as alarming thoughts swirled about his mind. Was he the problem? Or is there a problem but he was too undependable to you to confide in?

Not one to beat around the bush, he approached you.

You were surprised that your lover requested to see you so suddenly. But, you thought the handsome blond sounded uncharacteristically solemn so you agreed, which led to you sitting in the lounge of your dorm/home.

Maybe you misread the tone of his voice, because the man before you certainly didn’t seem solemn. Sitting next to you on the sofa, Vil watched you silently with his arms crossed and a leg over another.

“So, Vil…how was your da-”

“I know you’re hiding something from me, spudling.”

From your flinching and awkward avoidance to meet his eyes, Vil’s suspicions were correct. Upon closer inspection, Vil spotted small cuts littered about the skin of your fingers. His lilac eyes softened somewhat, but he kept his voice stern.

“I admire you for working so hard for yourself,” Vil made it clear to you as his eyes gazed towards the small cuts on your fingers, “But, I hope I’m not someone so incompetent that you can’t rely on me, especially when you’re needlessly hurting yourself so.”

In a smooth motion, Vil raised his manicured hand towards your face, gently grazing your cheek to keep your attention to him. “So spudling, no more secrets…what has gotten you so busy and reckless?”

The gig is up, you supposed. Sighing, you asked for your blond beloved to wait as you quickly rushed to your room. Upon your return, there was something in your hands to which you nervously handed over to your upperclassman.

It was a soft ribbon with a charm attached to its end. The deep purple ribbon was embroidered with what seemed to be golden leaves attached to vines twisting and curling across the length of the ribbon. The charm was of a crown, a cheap trinket that was clearly inspired by the Fairest Queen.

“I know how hard you’ve been working for classes so I made you a ribbon bookmark, something you could use while you study or something.” you explained, a little embarrassed. “But I haven’t been getting the pattern right, so I couldn’t give you until I got it perfect.”

Vil has been gifting you so much, from customized skincare products of his creation to matching outfits that enhanced your beautiful form. But it’s not just fancy clothes and luxurious products. Vil worries for you, takes care of you, and helps you to see the potential in yourself and to strive for it.

He gave you so much, so you wanted to give him something in return. Something thoughtful, something that shows how much you cherish Vil. More than for his looks, more than for his fame.

“This didn’t turn out as well as I wanted, but I’m working hard so I can make a new one and get the embroidery just right,” you assured him as you reached for the bookmark. “So, please be patient with me.”

But, Vil kept your gift out of your reach. He examined your handiwork with such focus, taking note of the effort in every stitch. It was by no means the level of professional, but he could see how you thought about him. From the color of the ribbon and thread to resemble his honorable dorm, to the consideration of his dedication to his studies rather than his looks. Your gift told him that you saw not Vil Schoenheit the actor, but Vil your hardworking boyfriend.

Seeing your nervous expression, Vil chuckled as he finally spoke, the cute bookmark firmly in his grasp. “If this is for me, I believe It’s for me to decide if it’s acceptable.”

“I-I guess?”

“Good, because I’ve decided to keep this.” Closing the gap, Vil placed a kiss upon your face, teasingly close to your lips. With a confident smile, Vil took pleasure with your burning cheeks.

“Thank you for the gift, my cute spudling.”

If it wasn’t already clear to everyone, Rook’s primary love language are words of affirmation. You could sneeze and suddenly he has written a sonnet about how beautiful the cringling of your face was.

I’m only slightly exaggerating.

Rook is by no means afraid to show his admiration for anyone, least of all his beloved. All of his words and actions are all done without an expectation of getting something in return.

But lately, you have become a bit of an enigma to him. You would spend hours upon hours with him, smiling and capturing pictures of the two of you. Other times, you would swiftly leave back to your dorm, excusing it as needing to study but you would vehemently decline his offer to help you.

Don’t get him wrong, watching your concentrated gaze is gorgeous, the way your heartbeat steadies and letting out soft but longer exhales as though you’re making decisions secretly in your mind. Rook couldn’t help but wonder, what is it that captures your attention that has you gazing off away from him?

“Rook, can I visit you today?”

Oh my, it has been a while since you last requested such a thing. Partially because you both knew his Housewarden would have a fit if he wasn’t aware. But eventually, Vil gave you special permission, mostly because Rook would have found a way to either sneak you into his room or he might sneak in the middle of night to see you. Vil knew Rook would never have gotten caught but he’d rather let you stay than have the migraine of a vice-housewarden breaking curfew and ruining his beauty sleep.

“Oui, mon trésor. I would request approval from my Housewarden immediately.” Rook could never deny you of anything, especially if he means you could have more time to admire you in the comfort of his room.

When night fell and the two of you were alone, sitting on the hunter’s bed. You were nervously wringing the handles of the bag in your hand. Doubts filled your head as you wondered if the gift was even slightly capable of living up to your boyfriend’s expectations, regardless of how silly that sounded.

You knew that whatever you would give him, Rook would love and appreciate it with full sincerity. But, that doesn’t mean you weren’t nervous. The gift should be considerate, you thought. Something that shows the love you had for the eccentric blond and his odd… let’s say interests.

You looked to said odd man, who’s piercing green eyes caught your gaze. Rook noticed your nervousness and the mysterious bag but said nothing. Instead, he kindly waited for you as you calmed yourself, soothing you with gentle touches to your knee. The huntsman can be a lot to some, but he’s also patient and so supportive.

Finding your strength, you presented your gift to Rook. Curiously, Rook took what seemed to be a journal from your hands. It was only when he opened the book to see its content was he surprised.

Him. He saw him in a multitude of photographs that decorated the pages of the journal, lined with cute frames and drawings. Some photos were of moments he remembered, such as days where you visited him during his club, cute dates around the town, or simply just moments of serenity between the two of you.

Rook felt his cheeks flush as his eyes caught the little captions written near the photographs, dates and words written in your handwriting.

“My handsome mad scientist” “His dashing profile is so cool” “His warm arms around me ♡”

“I realized the last time I came to your room that you only had photos of other people” you had glimpses of the wall of photos that consist of people he admired the most, you included. “So, I wanted to give you a photo album of what I find beautiful…you.”

Your boyfriend scared you as the young blond suddenly stood up from the bed, eyes sparkling with excitement as he scanned through the pages filled with memories. “Mon tresor, this is absolutely exquisite! To think my beloved has been watching me with such an unwavering, loving gaze fuels a pleasurable delight within me. Oh, très bien!”

But Rook worriedly commented on something notable. “But, there are still pages left unfilled. Were our moments too few and rare to fill the album?”

“It wasn’t that.” you rubbed your hands as you felt the nerves return. “I was hoping that we could fill the last few pages together…like a couple.”

It was then the hunter kneeled before you, his hands reaching out to grasp yours as he looked into your eyes with a special loving gaze only shown to you. You couldn’t tell if you were captured in his devoted gaze or if it was Rook that felt compelled to hold you, to comply with each and every one of your wishes.

“You speak as though I would dare to deny my precious beloved. I’d be honoured to make more memories with you, now and far however long you will have me.”

With constant surveillance from his wards *coughSebekcough*, Malleus’ moments with you were rare but still meaningful. Some nights, Malleus would wander near your dorm, especially when he noticed the lights of your room, signifying you’re there and awake. And like always, you would open your doors for him with a sweet laugh and inviting smile.

But lately, Malleus has seen that your bedroom lights would be dimmed, and that you would take notice of his presence slower than usual. Once or twice would be of no concern to him. But, as it slowly became a habit, he began to worry.

He spoke of his concerns with Lilia, perhaps in the older fae’s experience he came across a similar predicament amongst humans.

Only for the veteran fae to be of no help, instead chuckling in amusement before giving his young dragon a cryptic comment “You will understand soon enough. My, how you are in for a treat~”

Malleus chose not to question further, nor did he question the odd coincidence that you asked him to visit you that very night.

“I don’t suppose there is a hidden agenda to your invitation, dear?” As Malleus made himself comfortable in your guest room, he noticed some changes since his last visit.

Firstly, the furniture were arranged to be more spaced out, although the TV was still quite close. Then, there were almost an absurdly large amount of pillows and blankets, to the point that some have started to pooled onto the floor.

“Hmm, you sound as though I’m being suspicious” you laughed good-naturedly, “But I do have a surprise for tonight.”

Coming from the kitchen, you pulled out a stacked fairly large, cold container. With Malleus’ keen senses, he could pick up a very subtle sweet scent mixed with a chilly sensation, and a familiar delight came to mind.

“Ice-cream?”

You nodded. “Made by yours truly. I asked Lilia if there was a particular flavour you like, but he said you weren’t really picky.”

Unceremoniously, you sat down next to the tall fae before handing him an ice-cream container. “I was trying out different recipes and ideas all week, tweaking it along the way.”

The results of your work appear to be a multitude of flavours with varying degrees of sweetness. From classics such as chocolate and vanilla to more subtle sweet flavours such as coffee and pistachio. Some were swirls of combinations with fruits or nuts, and some were flavours unique to his hometown, which he imagined were hard to procure.

“I may not be able to shower you in riches, or protect you like your knights…” you gave an embarrassed smile and gaze at your silent companion. “But I could at least make you something sweet, just so you could smile even a little.”

Behind your nonchalant smile, you do feel anxiety swirling as you worry your efforts pale in comparison to the luxuries your powerful boyfriend owns. Malleus is a fae of the highest standing and thus, his actions have more impact than the average man or fae.

But…he was your amazing boyfriend nonetheless, who smiled softly back at you.

“Thank you, child of man. Knowing the effort my beloved has done for me alone, I shall cherish this feeling for centuries to come.”

Your cheeks burned slightly over the sincerity, so you quickly diverted the conversation. “W-Well, just giving someone ice-cream would be too boring, so I thought we could spend the night watching bad rom-com movies while we eat. Call it a human custom of sorts.”

“Is it imperative that the movies must be bad?”

You shrugged “Not really, but it usually is.”

Setting the movie up, you returned to the makeshift nest of comfy blankets and pillows with Malleus sitting by you. The confused fae watched as you handed him a tub of handmade ice-cream and a spoon before picking a container for yourself, a strange feeling of intimacy unfamiliar to him…but not an unpleasant one.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #vil schoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #vil x reader #rook hunt #twst rook x reader #rook x reader #rook hunt x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader

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moonzzip · 4 months ago

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coffee and nail polish | kwon jiyong

a/n — i wanted something fluff with jiyong, less angst for you guys, I hope you like it! feel free to correct grammar mistakes kindly!

summary: you and jiyong haven't seen each other in weeks, you two relax.

pairing: jiyong x gn!reader

warnings: discreet mention of body shape, orange hair jiyong (i love it) , idol!(?)reader, mentioned bigbang, reader is kind of self-critical, slight comfort, fluff, slight crack

lowercase letters, word count: 1,4k

"jiyong, if you keep moving, i'm going to hit you." you say, biting your tongue in concentration, holding the tip of jiyong's finger with the tips of your own, while your other hand grips one of the brushes from the eight nail polishes you'd be using to paint his nails. he's sitting in a small armchair, and you're on the floor.

how did you two end up in this situation?

it had been about three and a half weeks since you last saw each other in person. bigbang had just made their latest comeback, and the promotions for it were much more intense compared to before—not that it was a bad thing, just overwhelmingly exhausting. the m/v had absolutely blown up, and you would consider it your favorite song of theirs if it weren’t for (your bigbang fav/ song), but that’s not important right now.

it wasn't just him who had been busy. you were tirelessly working toward your own debut, spending countless hours perfecting your dance, vocals, rap, and all the other things idols do as trainees. god, if only you had known how long m/v recordings took, you might have thought twice before becoming an idol. but seeing the final result made the exhaustion disappear almost instantly.

the fact that you both missed each other was undeniable.

you’ve known jiyong for a little over five years now. the difference between before and now is obvious—not just in his appearance, but in his personality as well. you remember that 2010 boy whose style was completely different, whose voice and personality had made a full 360-degree turn. his opinions changed, and he seems much more relaxed, much freer than when you first met him. especially now that he's focused on his new project, 'peaceminusone'—if you’re remembering it correctly.

you support him in everything he does, just as he supported you through your difficult trainee days—because he went through it too.

out of all the hair colors he’s had, this orange one is by far your favorite. you think about making a cute leaf-shaped hair clip for him so he can look like an actual tangerine.you chuckle at the thought.

"hey, what's so funny?" jiyong asks, looking at you.

"nothing, just thought of something funny," you reply. he gives you a slow once-over, his gaze filled with silent judgment.

"you're weird.", you pinch the top of his hand, nearly smudging the polish.

"i'm weird, but you're my friend, so you'll have to put up with me for a while longer. i'm not giving up that easily." you say confidently, met with silence. jiyong doesn’t deny it, just lets out a sarcastic scoff.

"i'll think twice before talking to weird trainees—" you pinch him again for moving, and he falls silent.

the atmosphere between you two is relaxed and calm. talking makes it even better, but the silence is just as comforting. neither of you feels the need to fill the space with constant conversation—it's just cozy.

"are you nervous? you know, about debuting?"

hearing his voice, you glance up at him before returning to painting his nails.

"a little… but i'm working on it." you exhale lightly, and jiyong watches you in silence.

"i want to give my best in this. i feel like there are expectations i need to surpass—i need to surpass myself, in general. i feel like i have to improve, i know i have to improve. not just for me, but for the group."

without realizing it, you release his hand.

even before meeting jiyong, you had always been an incredibly dedicated trainee (and you still are). you'd wake up before the practice room even opened, stretching in the hallway until they let you in. you followed a balanced diet—not starving yourself, just keeping yourself healthy. you always helped other trainees with their struggles, answering questions and giving advice based on what you had learned. you always had new tips to share because of your nightly study sessions, though you never stayed up too late. always punctual.

how did you meet him?

well... that’s a bit embarrassing.

on one of those late-night study sessions, you knew you shouldn’t have stayed up so long, but you felt like you were on an unstoppable roll, so you pushed through. but not before grabbing a coffee.

you silently left the dorm, careful not to wake anyone, and opened the door, planning to head to the vending machine at the end of the hallway near the practice room. one coffee wouldn’t hurt, right? …ah, such naivety.

it was dark everywhere except for a dim light coming from inside the practice room. you managed to navigate the hallway thanks to that weak glow slipping through the slightly ajar door.

since the door was old, it usually got stuck. you leaned against the wall and carefully made your way to it, leaning your body on it to continue on your way, but what you didn’t count on was the door deciding to function normally that night.

and on top of that, you tripped on a loose tile, throwing all your weight onto the door, and—

now—

you hit the floor with a loud thud, like a sack of potatoes.

you didn’t even think. your whole body ached, but you didn’t make a sound. your forehead hit the wooden floor, leaving you a bit dizzy but still conscious. and then you made a split-second decision: you'd just… pretend to be unconscious.

no one would bother you, you wouldn’t have to see who witnessed your humiliating fall, and that would spare you from any embarrassment. the position was even kind of comfortable, so it wouldn't be hard to keep up the act, and—

"i saw your foot move."

internally, you died. of shame, obviously.

oh. my. god.

you felt like the stupidest person alive.who, in their right mind, falls and then just stays on the floor pretending to pass out? you wanted to disappear, to die, to evaporate into thin air and be carried away by a nearby fan.

enough thinking.

"ahh…" you groaned, slowly getting on your knees, staring at the floor. "i think i blacked out for a second, hahaha."

you let out an awkward, robotic laugh, placing a hand on your forehead before looking up—and seeing him.

your eyes widened, not just because g-dragon, bigbang's leader, was standing in front of you, but because you were wearing the worst pair of pajamas in your closet.

why did you even come down in pajamas? you had no idea. but that was all your brain could focus on. your hand slid from your forehead to cover your eyes instead.

the universe hated you, you concluded.

the man just stared at you, confused, while his practice music still played softly in the background.

you shook your head, snapping out of your old memories.

you looked down at jiyong’s hand, but before you could grab his finger again, you felt a hand gently stroking your hair.

"i don’t think you should worry," his voice was calm.

your eyes lifted to meet his in silence.

"i don’t think there’s anyone i know who deserves to debut more than you. you’ve always worked hard, and you deserve this more than anyone. so don’t doubt yourself."

you just stared at him for a moment before letting out a soft, amused scoff.

"i guess so…"

and then, silence settled again. but jiyong's hand remained in your hair.

his chest ached hearing you speak about yourself like that. he didn’t fully understand the feeling, but he knew none of your efforts had been in vain. only he truly knew how much you pushed yourself.

just as you knew everything about him, he knew everything about you.

your bond had always been close—full of unconditional support and deep connection. hugs were common, physical touch between you two was natural. he loved hugging you and being hugged by you, just as you loved his hugs and giving him yours. you were always helping each other, always doing little favors, sharing an incomprehensible partnership filled with warmth and affection.

"jiyong, if your nail polish smudges because you're messing with my hair, i will kill you."

he said nothing, just rolled his eyes—but didn’t move his hand.and he smiled.

he had never been more grateful for an unbought coffee that night.

a/n – thanks for reading! I hope you liked it, I think all the ideas I have come from beyond... this time I wrote it listening to 'interlude : shadow' by yoongi, I love this song so much... feel free to correct me of any grammatical mistakes!

#gn!reader #gdragon x reader #kpop #kwon jiyong x reader #g dragon #bigbang x reader #bigbang gdragon #kwon jiyong #jiyong x reader #G dragon x reader

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kinkyniragi · 4 months ago

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His whore – Chapter 1

When Thomas Shelby says you’re a whore, then you are one.

***

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader Genre: Smut 18+ Word count: 1k Summary: You have just started your job as a receptionist in a gentlemen's establishment when Thomas Shelby walks in and wants to use your services… CN: Power play, degradation. Please note that this is all just fantasy. Things that happen in my stories should always be consensual. Take care. Author’s note: After writing a lot of smut for Niragi from Alice in Borderland, I’m now diving into the world of Cillian Murphy. Feel free to leave comments and share my story if you enjoy it—I truly appreciate every bit of motivation to keep writing. Also, I’m not a native speaker, so if you spot any creative grammar choices…call them artistic liberties, ok?

***

The place is nearly empty when he walks in.

At the bar, only you and Lily—one of the house girls in this so-called ‘gentlemen’s establishment’—remain.

In the doorway stands the bouncer, Harry—a stocky man in his mid-fifties, perpetually bad-tempered, with an aura of quiet menace that was likely the reason he was hired in the first place. The cheerful dance music crackling from the phonograph feels oddly out of place in the empty bar. Still, you let it play—it grants you and Lily a sliver of privacy, shielding your conversation from Harry’s ever-listening ears.

As you dry the last of the glasses, you chat idly with her. She tells you about her shift, and you find yourself alternating between shock and amusement at the perverse desires of the customers.

You pour both of you a small nightcap—on the house.

Honestly, your new job isn’t all that bad, you think. When you first saw the ad in the paper, it didn’t sound half bad either.

“Receptionist wanted. Good pay.”

It wasn’t until you stepped into the establishment for your interview that it truly dawned on you where you had ended up—a brothel.

You had no intention of working in a place like this. But your finances were in shambles, the madam seemed genuinely kind, and the girls were friendly and easygoing. And most importantly, your role was clearly separate from theirs: greet the customers, sell them as much alcohol as possible, and connect them with the girls.

All for an almost obscene salary.

So, you said yes. And so far, you haven’t regretted it.

Especially not the late-night chats with Lily, which had quickly become your favorite part of the job.

You’re both giggling, deep in your gossip about the depraved customers, when the door swings open with a bang.

You glance up from behind the bar, expecting just another straggler looking for some comfort before closing.

But then you see him.

He doesn’t move like a customer. He moves like he owns the place. The air shifts around him, thick with something you can’t name but instinctively recognize.

Power.

You don’t know his name, but the way Harry straightens—then quickly looks away—tells you enough. Whoever he is, he’s important. Dangerous.

Lily suddenly falls silent, her posture shifting. She looks apparently... intimidated. As if she’s already had the misfortune of encountering this particular customer—and his dark appetites. Her body language makes one thing clear: she deeply regrets not leaving earlier.

Slowly, he approaches the bar, removing his hat with practiced ease before settling onto one of the barstools, without paying any further attention to Lily.

He doesn’t speak right away. Just watches you, a slow, deliberate assessment that makes the silence stretch too long.

Like a wolf sizing up a deer, you think.

“You,” he says finally, gesturing lazily with two fingers. “Come here.”

You hesitate. “I’m just the—”

“The what?” His lips curve, but there’s no real amusement there.

“You work here,” he corrects, tilting his head. “That’s all that matters.”

Lily looks away, as if she’s already seen this play out before. You glance toward the door, where you expect Harry to be. He’s still there, but he doesn’t move—doesn’t so much as lift his gaze from the cigarette between his fingers.

Your pulse quickens.

“You should listen to Mr. Thomas Shelby,” Harry finally says, voice dry, uninterested. “He doesn’t like repeating himself.”

Lily whispers, her voice barely audible, "Come on, pour him an Irish whiskey."

You do as you're told.

The man leans an elbow on the bar, watching your reaction. His patience is an illusion—you can see it in his eyes, the way he’s already decided how this will go.

“Look, I’m not—” you start again, but he tilts his head, almost amused.

“A whore?” he finishes for you.

His hand moves, unhurried and purposeful, reaching past you to set something on the bar.

A gun.

“Well, love, you are a whore when Thomas Shelby says you are. Got it?”

Your throat goes dry.

In front of you, Lily shifts uncomfortably, her unease palpable in his presence. “Do what he says,” she whispers. “It’s better that way.”

Your chest tightens.

He watches the exchange, smiling slightly. “Smart girl,” he murmurs. “You should trust her.”

With a dismissive tilt of his head, he silently instructs Lily to leave. Relief flickers across her face, but her eyes betray something else—a quiet regret that she can’t do anything to help you.

Then, he rises and strolls toward Harry with the same unhurried ease.

“Go home.”

You stare in Harry’s direction, willing him to meet your gaze.

But Harry just hesitates for half a second before nodding. As he turns around to leave, Thomas slips a bundle of cash into his hand, smooth and practiced. The kind of transaction that doesn’t need words.

Your stomach twists. He’s been paid off.

You’re alone now. No one’s coming to help.

The realization must show on your face because Mr. Shelby smirks, tapping a cigarette against his palm.

“Lock the door,” he says without looking up, as he lights his cigarette.

You don’t move.

Something flickers in his eyes—amusement, maybe. But it’s thin, layered over something much more dangerous.

“Go on,” he murmurs. “Before someone gets the wrong idea and interrupts us.”

Your fingers curl around the key. You know it would be useless to refuse or even to run. The mix of fear and desire pulses through you, keeping you rooted in place.

So you turn the key. The lock clicks into place.

Then, his eyes meet yours—intensely, as if he’s already imagining how this will all end.

Chapter 2>>

***

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#thomas shelby smut #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #cillian murphy smut #cillian x reader #cillian fic #cillian murphy #cillian fanfic #cillian x fem!reader

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ihavenolifeleft · 1 month ago

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I have this fic idea bouncing around in my empty head lika a ping-pong ball. Like think young(er) robby and abbot. Robby wants to be a dad like so so bad but after so many failed relationships he gives up trying to find a girl to settle down with and thinks that he will never get the chance to be a dad. And one night when he and jack are just hanging out or whatever he mentions it to him while drunk. and jack is like "well we can get married or whatever and then we can apply for adoption or fostering or something". and robby laughs him off and then jack is like "no seriously i 'd do that for you. you're my best friend." robby is like "you're too drunk to make decisions like that" and they don't talk about it for the rest of the night. the next day jack corners him in the kitchen and tells him that he meant it. they fight about it for a few weeks and after many back and forths they do go through with it. they move in together (although they kinda live together) and after a while they both realize that they actually are in love with each other but either won't tell the other because robby thinks jack dosen't feel the same and jack thinks robby is straight and really dosen't want to screw up robby's chance of being a dad.

they apply for adoption. bla bla bla then boom they get a opportunity to adopt a 3 week old baby girl. jack's on shift (one of those rare times he takes a day shift or covering for someone.) when they get the call. robby calls him and jack tries to get someone to cover for him so he can come. in the meantime robby gets to the hospital (not the one where they work) where the baby is (for some reason, sickness or something about the birth mother). when jack gets there he finds robby with his half unbuttoned shirt and the baby on his chest.

so I wrote a snippet of the last scene but I have writers block so I properly won't continue this. Sorry if there's bad grammar or spelling errors, english is not my first language. Also know nothing about the American adoption system sooooo eeeh whatever. Feel free to take inspiration or continue this or steaaaal!

Hurried uneven footsteps that echoed outside of their room snapped Robby out of his bubble. He’d recognize that gait anywhere.

The door to his room opened slowly and softly, Jack’s head peeks in. His worried expression melted away at the sight of Robby and their baby. Robby’s shirt was half unbuttoned and his hair was a mess. He had probably been running his hand though it like he always did when he was nervous. If Jack weren’t so far gone for him he probably would be after this sight. Jack slipped into their room and sneaked across the floor to them.

“Hi…” Jack whispers with a grin.

“Hey.”

Jack sat down in the chair beside the armchair that Robby was sitting on. He looked down at the baby in his husband’s arms.

Gracing the back of one his finger against her cheek, “She’s beautiful…”

Robby hummed in agreement. Jack glanced up from her, looking at him. He was crying silently.

Oh how I love this man he thought to himself.

Jack slowly slid his hand up Robby’s neck and stopped at his cheek, wiping his tears away. Feeling brave he scooted closer and pressed a light kiss under his eye. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing… I – I just… Thank you Jack. For doing this with me.”

Jack's smile grew wider, he stood up and carefully sat down on the arm of the armchair. He puts his arm around Robby’s shoulder, he places a kiss on the side of Robby’s head then looks back at their daughter.

“You still like the name Nora?” Jack asks.

“Yea… she looks like a Nora right?” Robby asks back, a smile on his face.

Jack hummed, “Nora Robinavitch…” he stroked his finger up and down her nose.

“Abbot-Robinavitch.” Robby corrects him. Jack lifts his head away from Robby, “She’s your daughter too.” He says, staring him down, which was usually Jack’s move. Jack huffs out a soft laugh.

“What?” Robby asks, “What’s so funny?” a smile stretching slowly across his face. Jack shakes his head and looks down at Nora again.

“Your Papa is so sappy…hmm?”

#robby x abbot #robbyabbot #rabbot #the pitt #michael robinavitch #jack abbot

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nymphea0 · 11 months ago

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Until Death My Love

Part 3.

Yandere Husband X Wife Reader

Warning : violence, gore , mention of corpses, blood , guns and ciggarette.

Very long story, might have bad grammar,correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote.I hope you all enjoys my story . Last Chapter will came out, so stay always love.- Neva 🦋🦋

Word Count Around : 1593 Word

Story Part 1 : Until Death My Love

Story Part 2 : Until Death My Love

Still at basement you only with yourself choose something that might make yourself regret.

However, your heart and mind are at odds which ends up you standing in front of the white door.

Swallowing your saliva roughly, you open the door slowly, the door opens and creates a sound that really disturbs your soul.

A foul odor can be smelled in your breath, this smell you are not sure what smell is even more smelly than a dead animal?.

The room was dimly lit yellow, when you entered the room, the walls of the room were decorated with many photos of yourself, from photos of yourself at school, at your house before you married Alex, and photos of yourself sleeping.

You were very shocked to see what you had just seen, covering your mouth and walking backwards only to feel a collision with an object hanging from the ceiling of the house platform.

Turning your body, you screamed softly looking in disbelief, falling slowly and retreating in fear behind the table that you accidentally hit.

There were 2 familiar faces that you often met, 1 was the gardener who always greeted you in the morning when you walked leisurely to breathe the fresh morning air.

The man, hanging upside down with a lot of blood dripping on his body, with his mouth agape and eyes bulging with wide fear.

You always believed that the garden man quit his job because he wanted to get married as Alex told you, only to see the man already died miserably there.

Then there was another man whose condition was even worse than the garden man, he was the driver who always took you to and from wherever you went somewhere.

You always knew that this man tried to flirt with you every time you went out, until because you couldn't stand it, you told Alex about your worries, Alex only responded with a smile and patted your head gently and said he would transfer the driver to another job.

You always believed Alex's words, but you didn't know that .... the man didn't change jobs but died.

Because you couldn't stand what you saw anymore, you ran out of the room, closed the door roughly, ran with all your soul while carrying the broom that you always held.

You even almost fell when climbing the stairs, when you reached the surface, you closed the wooden door roughly and put the carpet in the opposite direction.

With a strong push while trying to catch your breath, you close the bookshelf, and miraculously, the previously bent lamp returns to its original position.

Bringing the cleaning tools, you unlocked Alex's room, then you went out and ran fast towards your room leaving the cleaning tools in the hallway outside Alex's office.

Opening the door roughly, you entered your room and Alex's, there you saw your maid, Roana cleaning the bedroom window.

With a gasp you fell to your knees on the floor, Roana who was shocked stopped cleaning the window and approached you and asked if you were okay?

You who were too scared and nauseous just ignored it and Roana who was silent as if the woman knew what had just happened to you.

"Lady , did ... did you see that room?"

Very quickly you looked at Roana while glaring in surprise, while the woman, she just sighed and spoke tremblingly.

"Lady, you have to get away from Mr. Alex, he will kill you once he finds out that you entered the room."

With a slow shudder you just shook your head not sure about the plan.

Roana just took you to sit on the nearest chair and said something you never knew.

Roana said that Alex, the man you love, your husband, is a mafia from the underworld mafia association, a very scary power under Alex's leadership.

At first you tried to deny it but Roana said that this was the truth, Alex your husband, is a Mafia from the biggest mafia family in the underworld, the Hungry Lion, Arceint.

Roana tremblingly said that anyone who dares to enter Alex's secret room, whoever it is even including his wife, namely you, will die at his hands.

Roana only thought that you had read the important documents stored there, Roana didn't know that you saw something even worse than a document.

Panickingly you asked what you should do. Roana only said you have to leave this residence, just take important things like money and identity cards, leave your cellphone and clothes.

That night, exactly the 2nd day has arrived after Alex went on his business trip for 5 days, you went away from the residence where you made love with Alex for 2 years.

Accompanied by Roana, the woman sympathized with you, married to a mafia who faked his identity and was not allowed to work and do this and that seemed to be just a display wife, Roana felt that your life was very sad and she tried to help you leave.

"Lady, promise me you won't look back okay? You have to live happily".

That night by taking a taxi you left your house and Alex.

But unfortunately you didn't know that, that night was the last time you saw Roana alive.

The best quality leather shoes had just come out and touched the row of steps of a private jet.

Alexandrovic reigent had just arrived at the airport, the man couldn't wait to meet his wife again, his wife who was so cute, weak and also he loved very much was waiting for him at home.

Alex couldn't wait to kiss you, hug you and eat you until you couldn't think anymore and only thought about him and him alone.

Humming softly, he entered the black sedan and drove towards the house.

With the sight of a large pitch black gate decorated with a lion statue on each gate, the black sedan entered the residence.

Coming out with a happy look, Alex walked with steady steps where all the servants and guards bowed respectfully at Alex's return from his work.

This was beyond expectations, they thought that Alex would return on the 5th day, but not even the 5th day Alex had returned.

Entering the house, Alex realized your absence. Walking slowly towards the room, while smiling a little, thinking that you were his little wife was sleeping, only to see that it was empty.

Searching all over the house, Alex still couldn't find you.

There was only 1 room that he hadn't explored, his study, entering his study, the place was clean and tidy, Alex guessed that you cleaned the room.

With steady steps, Alex looked around and towards the bookshelf hoping to find you there, but unfortunately not.

Until something made Alex stop walking, a purple flower hair clip plated with gold fell right between the basement doors that he hid from you.

Kneeling slowly and picking up the hair clip, very quickly, Alex pulled the lever that was disguised as a light and roughly opened the cupboard shelf only to find a black carpet that was used to cover the wooden door on the floor in an upside down position.

With a stifled annoyance Alex could tell that you had seen the room that was the ground, including the white door.

With quick steps alex shouted angrily and called all the servants and also the house guards

"I pay you to work serving and prevent my wife from knowing about that room"

With his hand pointing up alex fired a gun in the air making the servants scared and the guards could only be silent.

"But look at what you all did, you are incompetent and unable to protect my wife by letting her leave this residence ?!"

"Do you still want to live?"

With great anger alex fired his shot towards one of the guards who bowed towards him, the poor man fell to the floor covered in blood.

"Come forward .... I know that one of you is helping my wife, come forward or I will speed up your deaths"

With the gun pointed at all of them, the servants panicked as did the guards.

Roana who felt this was her fault for asking you to leave the residence could only surrender and move forward.

Only to get a kick in the stomach.

"You, a country woman, dare to make my precious thing disappear? I think you really want to die, right? Then I will make your dream come true"

That night, the reigent residence was accompanied by the sound of thunder and thundering rain, decorating the atmosphere of the house with the screams of a woman begging for mercy and also the sound of a gun.

That night was a night of hell for Roana, the servant who always faithfully served you.

A tall man with black hair standing in his room study, facing out the large French window, accompanied by the sound of thunder and rain.

Alex, the man smoked nicotine in a peaceful state, but with a different heart.

With a soft voice and his crazy psychotic smile, Alex spoke

"Run my dear, run, hide, don't stop hiding, until when I catch you, don't expect to ask for forgiveness from me, my dear wife, because I, Alexandrovic Reigent Arceint will never let go of what is already mine"

Accompanied by the sound of thunder, Alex laughed psychotically with his hand holding a cigar. While imagining what punishment would be suitable for his little wife who was busy running away from her husband.

*Source image: pinterest

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions , Always be good people Dear. Much love , Neva🦋🦋.

@snowflakes666 @elleflying07 @cannyyyyy @f1sheeee

#yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere #possesive #obsessed #nevaerah

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leascorner · 6 days ago

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j.b.b. | No words

Summary: It felt domestic, in a comforting kind of way. You liked having him here, with you. It made you feel at safe. Loved, even. Of that kind of love that needed no word.

Pairing: Neighbour!Bucky x you!reader

Warnings: use of "you" pronoum, more or less gender neutral, it's pretty much two idiots in love, it's short and sweet and I like him so much

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

A slight knock on your door made you reached out to your phone on the nightstand. 9:30 p.m. on a Tuesday night. A smile immediately appeared on your face. This could only mean one thing.

Leaving your soft office (or more simply put: your bed), you moved through your living room and onto the hall of your apartment. A quick check through the spyhole to make sure it was who you thought it was, and you opened the door.

There was standing Bucky, your downstairs neighbour, leaning on the doorframe, wearing his typical night outfit, the one you had seen one too many times. He had a dark T-shirt on, and his hands buried deep into his sweatpants’ pockets.

Typical Bucky.

"Sam again?" you asked, and he only nodded with a shy smile.

You opened the door wider and let him in. Bucky gave you a slight embrace on his way in and let you lock the door behind him. This was kind of a routine at this point. He would then get to your living area, pretending to inspect one of your plants, while you would get back to your bed. When you were sat back on the hot spot you had spent your entire evening on, he would be besides the doorframe of your bedroom, a few feet away from the couch. He knew that you wouldn't let him go sit – or sleep for the matter – on your tiny couch, but he still let you the choice.

He let you the space.

"Come on! Here?" you patted the other half of the bed and like he always did, Bucky wore this look on his face. The same one he wore the first time this whole situation happened. A mix of awkwardness and not wanting to overstep either. "Please?"

And like every other time, he didn't need much more convincing. He silently made his way to your bed, moved the decorative pillows and sat beside you. He stayed on his side, making sure not to crumple the papers that you had spread all other the bed cover.

As always, Bucky would find you grading your students’ test of the day. Today, you were correcting a written expression. You had shown them the picture of a family peacefully walking in the forest and requested them to write whatever it would inspire them: it could be how they ended up in the forest in the first place, what they would eat when they got home or how the parents had met.

All in all, the story itself didn’t really matter to you; it was only a mean for them to practise their English. And your student never disappointed. Though their grammar wasn’t always the best - they were still learning after all, they all made efforts, and it made your heart swell with pride.

Bucky watched you grade the papers in silent; sometimes trying to pry over your shoulder to read the paper that was currently making you smile or chuckle to see who had written it. He had met your class once this year, during Career Day a few weeks ago that both Sam and he had attended to discuss their work. All the kids had liked him so very much that, a few days after, you had brought home an extensive number of drawings and cards. All of them for him.

With a content sigh, you put the last paper on the graded pile. On your side, Bucky had gone to scrolling on his phone - patiently waiting for you to finish before getting ready for bed. It was how it was most nights; you would finish your bedtime routine before laying down and discussing whatever crossed your mind until you fall asleep. Other nights, he was the one that you would find already asleep by the time you had finished, slightly snoring, arms wrapped around one of your decorative pillows, like his life depended on it.

Seeing your small, tired eyes behind your glasses, Bucky grabbed the papers and pencils and put them on the desk in the corner of your room.

“Teeth?”

You only nodded before making your way to your en-suite bathroom. Near the sink were sitting your toothbrush and the other one that you kept for Bucky - he was staying so often with you that you had finally brought one for him. You put some toothpaste on the brushes before handing him his.

You brush your teeth in silence, watching each other through the mirror above your sink. It felt domestic, in a comforting kind of way. You liked having him here, with you. It made you feel at ease. Safe. Loved, even. Though you two were only “just friends”. Friends that, over the last couple of months, had slept in the same bed more than twice a week.

It had all started over a year or so ago, when Bucky’s roommate – Sam – had come home with someone. While Sam had enjoyed a nice night in, Bucky had discovered - much to his distress - that the wall between their bedroom was as thin as paper. Leaving him with only one option: fleeing their flat. How he had ended up going up the stairs and at his neighbour door, he didn’t really recall. Nevertheless, you had welcomed him and refused to let him sleep on your tiny couch.

Over the next couple of months, it happened a few more times. Until it just became… frequent. Bucky showed up every time with a different reason. Because Sam had started to date someone and that he couldn’t bear to hear them going at it. Or because he was simply lonely. You always welcomed him. And, one by one, the pillows you used to put in between you two in the bed - a sort of barrier to keep you safe - had started to disappear. Nowadays, it wasn’t rare that you would fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Your relationship didn’t have a label. It was clear to everyone - except maybe the two of you - that whatever this was, wasn’t just friendship. In reality, it didn’t really matter. You were just you.

It still made your heart swell when you watched him put away his toothbrush, right besides yours. Feeling a little bolder than usual, you couldn’t help to say:

"You know we should just move in together."

Bucky nearly chocked on the water he was using to rinse his mouth. When he turned around to answer, you were already walking in your bedroom. It was like a perfectly rehearsed ballet. You putting away the decorative pillow. Him handing you one of the pillows from his side - because yes, you wouldn’t sleep with less than three pillows.

He watched as you sat down, your back to his. You took off your glasses and applied some hand cream on. He didn’t know if you did it on purpose to give him the privacy to remove his sweatpants. But you always did. And he appreciated you for that.

When you turned back to him, he was already wrapped in the blanket, looking at you expectantly… Like he wanted you to continue what you were talking about earlier.

"I am just saying you are here every other week, ‘might as well clear one of my drawers for you."

"I could just go if you want."

"That is not what I said," you smiled softly, reaching out to turn the lights off. "I like it, you being here and all."

Even though you couldn’t see him, he smiled back, his tummy fuzzy. He didn’t have the word to tell you, but he liked it too, him being here and all. So he did what he knew best. One of his hands found your elbow, bringing you close. As close as he could, really. Your head found the crook of his neck, the tip of your nose tickling his jaw. And he held you. Silently promising to never let you go.

In the dark, you listened to his faint respiration. Smelt the soft odour of his shampoo. Felt his skin against the bare skin of your arms. The heat radiating from his body enveloped you, carrying you slowly in the arms of Morpheus.

Bucky could feel the way your lips stretched in a small smile against his skin. You seemed so content, he didn’t have the heart to confess his truth. For weeks now, he had promised himself to finally let you know the reason he couldn’t bear to sleep in the cold sheets of his own bed so often. It had been a while since Sam had got anyone over. It actually had been a while since Bucky had any reason to come to you.

With you already drifted to sleep, nestled in his arms, little did he know he didn’t need to.

You already knew.

Just like you knew that he loved you.

And just like he knew that you loved him.

Of that kind of love that is yours both; yours and only yours.

That kind of love that needed no word.

#lea's writing #jbb #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky one shot #mcu imagine #mcu oneshot #marvel imagine #marvel one shot

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