#i also knew who i wanted each captured borrower to go to

[kawaiichibiart]

Another AU I wanna work on:

The Secret World of Minori (aka The Secret World of Arrietty AU)

This AU mainly focuses on MMJ as they go by their lives trying to live in a garden close to a cottage belonging to two girls (An and Kohane).

Borrowers, in this AU, hide from humans due to their people being captured and sold as pets and/or toys. One of the Borrowers who's sadly fallen to this fate was Shizuku's childhood friend, Tsukasa. Prior to his kidnapping, another Borrower, Kanade, was taken. Borrowers are told to never go out alone and to stick with at least one other if they go out, especially if they go inside of humans homes. Some Borrowers carry weapons on their person constantly (sewing needles are a popular option).

Borrowers:

Minori

Haruka

Airi

Shizuku & Shiho

Tsukasa & Saki

Toya

Kanade

Nene

Mafuyu

All the VS

Humans:

Emu

Rui

Ena & Akito

Mizuki

Honami

Ichika

An

Kohane

While this AU does focus on MMJ, other characters will show up. Obviously there's Anhane, who are MMJ's "neighbors." In a nearby village, the Shinonomes live and they are in possession of Mafuyu, who was captured not too long after they evacuated their old home. In the same village, in different areas, Honami is taking care of Kanade, and Emu and Rui are taking care of Tsukasa.

MMJ eventually learn that:

• Mafuyu ranaway after her mom dismissed how she felt about Kanade being taken, saying that much like her mother, Kanade just had to sit too close to the carnations, she was as good as dead. She ranaway and got captured. She was sold quickly to the Shinonomes, specifically Shinei who then gifted her to Ena, his eldest child.

Humans are...odd. I don't understand them... They lie and they hurt and they take things away. But... I don't know. I don't understand them. I don't understand her. She always seems so mad, and everyday I expect her to take it out on me, but she doesn't...her brother seems nice, I suppose...

• Kanade was taken 3 years prior to the mass evacuation. This is something they've already known, what they didn't know was that she was bought by an elderly woman and gifted to her granddaughter a few weeks after she was captured. She's been living with the Mochizuki's in their bakery ever since.

Humans are...complex, I suppose is the best way to put it. They hurt and they steal and they kill. I still remember the huma who killed my mother and hurt my father. I remember the nightmares and I still have them, but...humans...can be kind. They can be warm. I think I got lucky. Honami loves me and cares for me. She planted carnations for me. White, like the ones my mother loved...do you think, if she were here, if Mafuyu was here...would she accept that I'm happy here? Humans are odd...but at the very least, Honami feels...warm.

• Tsukasa has had it hardest of the 3. Where Mafuyu is unsure of things and Kanade has found comfort in at least one human, Tsukasa remains untrusting and terrified. Taken shortly after Kanade, Tsukasa has been sold over and over due to no one wanting to keep him. There's always something wrong with him. He's too loud, he moves to much, he's not worth keeping. When he's bought by the Otoris, he was meant to be kept on display, but upon being found by Emu, was stolen by the girl who couldn't stand to see him kept like that. For all the she and her friend, Rui, try, Tsukasa is still untrusting of anything and everything they do.

Humans are...awful. They steal, they lie, and they are nothing but greedy. You're never enough. There's always something wrong. You can't please them. I don't want to think what would have happened if they got Saki or Shiho or Toya... I hate them. I hate humans. I can't let my guard down around them. I know that they're waiting for that to happen. It's happened before. How will they be any different? You should leave before they catch you, too.

They have three different perspectives on what living with humans has been like based on captivity.

Mafuyu is unsure about things, based off of old stories, Ena should have hurt her by now. But she hasn't, all she does is grumble to the Borrower and huff and puff if she ever gives her her opinion. Akito, at the very least, seems pleasant? She's fed and has a place to sleep. But she's treated like she's just...there? She's not sure how to put it, but...maybe, it'll feel nice, someday...

Kanade has accepted things. She knows she's lucked out, Honami has been nothing but kind, doing her best to ensure Kanade feels safe. Honami is understanding of Kanade needing her space when she was first gifted to her. After all, she lost her mother because of humans, it's only natural she be a bit weary.

Tsukasa has absolutely no trust in humans. To him, all they do is lie and steal. The first few times he was sold, he was fooled into thinking the human who bought him cared. Nice food, a decent place to sleep. But then, he was tossed away. Sold from one human to the next, until he was stolen by his last purchaser's daughter. But he's learned his lesson. He can't trust them.

Uncertainty. Acceptance. Untrusting. All things Minori keeps in mind when she's caught by Kohane's snake. She's grateful the human saw her before she became lunch, but everything she's learned is spinning around in her head. She's able to get away, but she is the first to go back in order to see the human girl. She wants to know where she lies. Is she like Ena? A mystery? Or is she like Honami? Kind and warm? Or perhaps she's like Emu and Rui? Not to be trusted?

[shuggymaniac]

Someone pointed out to this picture saying that Shanks and Buggy already know where the “One Piece” is since they were there when the route was figured out…

Which made me wonder why did they already go after if they were there… and of course with this song stuck in my head lately…

I thought of a new story idea!!!

—-

In the day of Roger’s execution, after Buggy ran away from Shanks instead of standing still Shanks ran after Buggy and did his best to convince him why they shouldn’t go after the “One Piece” just yet, which eventually Buggy agrees because deep down he doesn’t want to be alone without Shanks.

So they have this discussion on what they should do next, during that time they find out that the marines released the wanted posters for what’s left of the Roger’s pirates and Buggy was not of one of them but Shanks was.

With a heavy heart they come to the conclusion that Buggy needs to stay hidden because if Shanks sailed into the sea his bounty would be higher than those new pirates, and also because Buggy is way better navigator than Shanks. He could redraw the map for the “One Piece” with his eyes closed if he wanted to.

After securing ways to keep in contact without fear of the marines, they go on their separate ways. They talk every few months, giving each other updates of how found new friends and crewmate for their future crew.

Shanks’s crew already knew about Buggy and Shanks still being in contact and all, and they swore to secrecy. Buggy on the other hand took a different approach. The bluenette had trust issues so he already told a hand full of his crew about him and Shanks, adding to it his plan on staying low key so the marines won’t notice them, that they have to commit pity crimes so that they would be seen as just regular small pirates.

Cabaji, Mohji and Richie know and agreed to play along, pretending that they were just some cowardice pirates who follow their captain blindly. When Alvida and Mr.3 join they don’t know anything because Buggy didn’t trust them yet and with how Mr.3 reacted when Buggy got beat up by Mihawk and Crocodile assured him that he made the right choice on not telling them.

And they continue making this acts of Buggy hating him whenever they are seen in Public so that don’t discover them.

In their private lives, Shanks and Buggy already courted one another and confessed their feelings. At some point they meet up in an unknown island just so they can hold a small wedding for them, with their most trust crew mates as witnesses.

When Shanks lost his hand Buggy rushed to him alone so he can nurse him back to health, which the red hair would never say because it would upset Buggy but it was his best days since his it was the longest time his husband stayed with him.

When Buggy met Luffy in orange island he fought Shanks and yelled at him about how his “Special boy” caused him to be stranded at sea without most of his body parts.

When Buggy told Shanks that he will borrow money from crocodile, Shanks tried to talk him out of it, because Buggy already has enough money from selling weapons in the black market in an anonymous name, and that Shanks can give him if he wants more. But Buggy disagrees convincing him that it was a good plan to make not only marines but other pirates to think that he was just a small fry pirate.

At some point Buggy and Shanks needed some high secret documents from the marines, so Buggy orchestrated an act to get captured and sent there so he can steal those documents, because getting out of “impel down” was easier than getting in.

I think I can milk this idea if I rewatch one piece again, I just need to remember Buggy and Shanks’s episodes.

[choerypetal]

Catton's Little Puppet / Oliver Quick & Felix Catton

summary: Oliver had harbored a long-standing obsession with both the reader and Felix. Despite his discomfort at witnessing the two together, he saw it as a chance to strategically earn their trust in an unconventional manner. It was an opportunity for Felix to potentially welcome him into their partnership, transforming the dynamic into a trio where they would all be equals, yet each holding a unique role—masters entwined in the intricate dance of their own puppetry.

ps: English is not my primary language, so I apologize for any errors or mistakes. If you choose to use or replicate my work without proper credit, it may be subject to being flagged.

tag list: @bananzaa @sisgotdemons enjoy!

Oliver hated everything about you when you two first met. 

Oliver hated the way your hips seamlessly moved to the rhythm of the music. Your smile captured the essence of every words from the songs you knew by heart. As you clutched the now-empty beer cup, poised to pour another for yourself, Felix's arm effortlessly wrapped around your waist. In a swift motion, he pulled you to his side, mirroring the smile Oliver had admired the first time actually meeting Felix. Oliver couldn't help but think that if he averted his gaze for even a second, Felix's and your lips would meet. The scene drew him back into the room later that evening, only for Felix and you to vanish until the sunrise.

Oliver hated when, the next day, you walked into class looking all polished and preppy. Although he knew that it was only an illusion, as you had once shared with him that it was simply a matter of practice. Even suggesting he follow suit that same morning. During Oliver's first week, you didn't have much information about him, like everyone. Oliver had found himself completely withdraw by your beauty upon entering on that same morning when you arrived late– clearly hungover from the homecoming of the school’s first day and an obvious amount of hickeys left from Felix. How Oliver wanted his to also be marked through Felix’s. 

Oliver hated witnessing your interactions with Felix. Typically, he would pay no attention if it were any other girls, but there was something about you that intrigued him. It all truly began when Felix introduced you to him on the same evening after borrowing Oliver's bike. "So, you're the faithful hero who saved Felix. But in the end, who can resist such charm, am I right, dear?" That marked the second time Oliver had heard your voice, yet this time it felt genuine – natural and almost too angelic to let go until its last breath. “Oh, right! Where are my manners? I'm Y/N. And you?”

“Oliver, but you can call me Ollie.” He said without insistence, a departure from his earlier encounters with Felix in person. A surge of confidence enveloped him, particularly as you extended your hand for a proper handshake, a gesture Felix took delight in complimenting, deepening Oliver's infatuation. “And thanks to Y/N's wonderful parents for bringing such a polite daughter into the world.” Oliver, if he had the courage, would have agreed wholeheartedly, envisioning a passion and intensity in a kiss that rivaled Felix's. However, the reality weighed on Oliver, when he heard your beautiful voice once more. “Oh, stop it. Felix has a way with compliments smoother than butter. But I'll remember your gratitude, Ollie.”

And he did remember to. How you would lean in to give him a peck on the cheek. Not that he was special, considering the fact that you always did that whoever you had meet. Nonetheless, for Oliver it meant something more, something that he too would be able to feel, to feel that same love you have for Felix just as you would for Oliver. 

Being in proximity to Felix and his circle of friends was coveted by many at the school, and an invitation to Saltburn was a sought-after opportunity. Unless someone had established connections within the group, receiving an invitation was usually contingent on existing friendships. Such was the anticipation for Oliver, who found himself in this situation when Felix enthusiastically proposed the idea of inviting him. It wasn't merely an act of gratitude; rather, it stemmed from Oliver's generosity in lending his bike to a stranger, who had now become a valued friend to him. 

Upon your arrival, Oliver caught sight of you standing alone. From the outset, what captivated him was your independence; you didn't always rely on Felix's wealth, and you had a sense of self that wasn’t easily spoiled. “Ollie!” You exclaimed, swiftly kicking off your overly tight heels and dashing towards him. You cupped his face and planted quick pecks all over, leaving him delighted by the touch of your moisturized lips on his cheek. But quickly caught up by someone’s chuckle echoing in a distance. “Jesus, Y/N. You're going to suffocate the poor thing.” Remarked Venetia, welcoming the playful scene with a teasing tone. She observed Oliver's reaction to your enthusiastic greeting, as a way to make the new comer even more relentless of his own. As soon as you released from him, you excused yourself from the exuberance and headed towards the Catton's mansion. “She's a firecracker, this one. Quite surprising that she's into nerds. I wonder what Felix will think.” She mused with a smirk.

Felix's potential thoughts were the constant contemplation in Oliver's mind during the initial days of his stay at the Catton residence. Beyond that, he marveled at how effortlessly open and welcoming you were, despite having only briefly connected during your time in school. While he appreciated the sound of your voice and the way you interacted with him and Felix, it was observing you in quiet moments that truly captivated Oliver. This fascination grew into an unexpected and almost unbelievable obsession, especially considering his initial attraction to Felix. The idea of being paired with anyone else was inconceivable, yet, over time and thanks to Venetia's indiscretions, Oliver discovered that you and Felix were in an open relationship, a decision made to explore new dynamics. You had said. What Oliver didn't know, among the many selected for this unconventional pairing, was that he would be the chosen one.

“You think this is a good idea?” You questioned one morning, adorned in your favorite gown, a cup of coffee in hand, awaiting breakfast as a drowsy Oliver entered the room. “Don't worry.” Felix reassured, leaning in close with his lips almost grazing the crook of your neck. His fingers traced a playful path around your waist, eliciting a chuckle from you at his teasing. "Remember when you said you wanted to fuck a nerd this year? Well, he's all yours." Felix declared confidently, causing a subtle blush to tint your cheeks. “But also yours too, don't forget.” You reminded him. As much as Felix hesitated to acknowledge his feelings, he too harbored an attraction to Oliver. The catch, however, was Felix's love for control. Witnessing you with Oliver was, in fact, more thrilling for him than you might have anticipated. 

Upon Oliver's entrance, a palpable tension filled the room as he observed Felix already standing close to you, a subtle fear gripping him that his presence might disrupt the connection you shared. Foolish man you are. Oliver would mutter to himself whenever he glimpsed the slightest hints of Felix's protective or controlling demeanor, not just towards you but anyone. Dismissing the notion, he decided to join both of you for breakfast, putting on a smile as he noticed the exclusive trio occupying the mansion today. “Where is everyone?” Oliver was the first to inquire, scanning the surroundings, even the garden, to find no one but the three of you. The idea began to dawn on you that this could be the perfect setting for something a bit more adventurous, something spicy involving all three. Innocently shrugging, you played along, and Felix couldn't help but laugh at your little game. “Haven't seen them, probably still in their beds, completely oblivious from last night's revelry. Wouldn't be surprised. What a shame to miss a beautiful breakfast with such lovely companions.”

What a shame, indeed, thought Oliver, his gaze penetrating yours as he found himself momentarily lost, only to be brought back by the server serving him a cup of coffee. He awkwardly thanked the server, prompting laughter from both Felix and you at his clumsiness. “You know,” Felix began, his confidence evident, especially when it came to matters of relationships and involving others. “Y/N and I have been... intrigued by you, you know? Perhaps attracted to how quickly you became part of our group. But a little bird told me that she's really drawn to you. Maybe if she had the courage to tell you instead of resorting to these daunting tasks.” Felix said casually, causing you to gasp in response to his unexpected comment. Despite your initial shock, you quickly realized he meant no harm or shame. In fact, Felix wanted Oliver to express his feelings – emotions that could harmonize with yours and eventually be shared behind closed doors. 

"Do I happen to know this little bird?" Oliver quipped, his gaze shifting between the two of you with a hint of surprise. Even though he already knew who Felix was referring to, Oliver decided to play along, much to Felix's delight, as he too wanted to please his friend. Felix nodded in acknowledgment. “Certainly, and if I may say so myself, she has a penchant for the nerdy type. However, she seems to be enjoying this new side of him much more recently.” Felix admitted openly, his arm remaining securely around your waist. He was well aware of the complexities of a polyamorous relationship, but if it meant your happiness and the joy of seeing you smile, it was all he could do. Plus, it certainly added to Oliver's amusement in seeing a different facet of Felix.

"Keep it discreet." You whispered to Felix, who, in response, leaned in so uncomfortably close that your words seemed almost ignored. This added an enticing and thrilling dynamic to your relationship. At that precise moment, Felix rose from his chair and planted a tender kiss on your forehead. “Behave now. For me– and for Ollie.” He advised, leaving you feeling utterly defenseless in the hands of someone who had evolved into an obsession similar to the initial intensity when you both first met. Your pout, intended as a defense mechanism, only seemed to amuse Felix, prompting him to gently cup your face. He teasingly bit at your lower lip, evoking a soft whine before he kissed you. “If anything happens, call me, okay? I won't be far away.” He assured you with a softer and more passionate tone, shifting his gaze from yours to acknowledge Oliver with a nod. Ultimately, Felix's interactions with Venetia were not entirely unfamiliar to Oliver, especially when it meant being alone with the most captivating woman in all of Saltbun. 

Oliver had carefully chosen his outfit for the occasion, opting for a stylish blue t-shirt that complemented his complexion. In an attempt to break the ice between you two, you remarked it so lively starting with the missing glasses. “I see someone ditched their glasses.”  Noting his uneasy glances from side to side, as if hiding something. However, upon hearing your voice, his gaze softened, and he offered a gentle smile, reminiscent of the one he gave Felix when they first met. “Glasses are so last season anyway. Prefer the contact lenses.” He casually remarked, initially giving the impression of a more reserved demeanor than you had originally perceived. This perception lingered, especially during moments when it was just the two of you alone. However, recent events, including spending a night at Farleigh's room and Oliver recounting what he had witnessed, left you uncertain about whom to trust. Consequently, you rose from your chair and approached him. His adorable gasp was the only sound as he watched your sudden movement. “What... are you doing?” he asked, stuttering mid-sentence. 

“Nothing…” You casually said to him although it was quite the obvious as you leaned to sat on his lap. His fingers trying his best to mimic Felix’s as you hushed him not to do so but to do it like how he did it to Venetia. Which at first surprised him because he began to think that you knew about it too– but you had said nothing to him since that event. After all– it was a game that Felix and you wanted. Turned out however that it was both Felix and Oliver who wanted you. To be their puppets as the masters take charge to their own demise, sadistic pleasure. Although contracting themselves perfectly, it was one of the many reasons why you had though Oliver to be fascinated in the first place. “Just admiring you.” Was what you said to him next, before continuing as you gently touched the collar of his shirt. 

“Make me love like you never have before—a love you've been craving since you arrived here. I know your little game, Ollie. We all do.” You whispered, leaning even closer until your lips grazed his, your hand cupping the side of his jawline. In that moment, you took charge, reversing the dynamics of control. However, the atmosphere shifted abruptly when your final confession made Oliver tense. His muscles stiffened, and his fingers gripped your waist, guiding you onto the table, rendering your body completely at his mercy. Gently crawling on top of you, a cocktail of excitement, lust, and a desire to submit to him filled the air. “Then..” He said softly, lifting your lacy gown casually and placing a few kisses before continuing. “I'll make sure you don't have to remember it, Princess. I’ll fuck you until your screams for more are heard at an even distance.” His eyes barely left you as your head leaned back, moans escaping your lips. However, before you could fully respond, Oliver's gaze intensified with each kiss, and he uttered. “I want you to say my name, just like you do for Felix's. Say that you are mine and mine alone.”

“Yes, I'll do anything you ask.” You affirmed. Your eyes pleaded, craving to be cherished and made to feel like a loved woman once more. It wasn't that Felix wasn't providing that, but the allure of someone unknown, a complete stranger, added an extra layer of excitement. “Make love to me as if you've never experienced anyone before. Have me begging for you until the break of dawn. I want your marks all over me, Ollie.” You confessed. With those words, Oliver eagerly removed his shirt, hunger evident in his desire to kiss every inch of your skin. Starting from your inner thighs, you couldn't help but release a soft giggle as you felt his tongue slowly traveling down.

However, there was one crucial detail both of you remained oblivious to – Felix had meticulously orchestrated this entire scenario, intending it to unfold as an exclusive spectacle for himself. His curiosity lay in observing Oliver's actions when left alone with all of you. Yet, the setup lacked a crucial element: Felix himself. Mere miles away, Felix sensed a tightening sensation in his groin beneath his pants. His fingers delicately caressed the sensation, attempting not to draw attention to himself. Seizing the opportune moment, he approached quietly as your back remained turned, your arms securely wrapped around Oliver's neck. As he neared, Felix gently untangled your shoulders, skillfully removing every piece of clothing he could manage before eliciting a surprised gasp from you. “Fe—”But Oliver's lips silenced you, a deliberate move to divert attention. Even though Oliver feigned ignorance of Felix's game, he too realized it was just a matter of finally being alone together – a scenario briefly alluded to by Felix before arriving in Saltburn. “Shh, Princess. Remember, he’s all yours.” Had Felix said upon continuing to admire your fully undressed body. 

In that moment, you realized you belonged entirely to both Oliver and Felix. They came as a combined package, a connection deeper and more intricate than anyone in Saltburn could fathom. Following the encounter at the pool, the three of you continued these clandestine rendezvous. Sometimes it was Oliver gazing into the distance, and other times, it was Felix. Yet, a constant remained – whenever you were out, they were with you. Over time, Oliver acknowledged, opening up to himself, that he truly felt at home, especially when you nestled yourself in a lacy gown between both of them, indulging in endless kisses until sleep embraced you all. This routine became a comforting ritual, repeated again and again.

[ghostbustting]

╰┈➤“𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑴 𝑨𝑺

𝑫𝑨𝒀𝑳𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻„ ๋࣭⭑

Contest by My Lovely Lovely @mustainegf ♡

Dave Mustaine x Reader

Content Contains: Purely Fluff.

The warm water starts running down the shower head, hitting my body as I let out a small sigh in relief of finding a source of warmth ever since last night, not to mention being in this freezing season, the soap running off the skin of my body along with the water, cleaning off whatever bacteria was on me. My gaze start to drift around the bathroom I hadn't gotten the chance to see before, new to the look of my surrounding, new to the scent of soap and shampoo he had allowed me to use, new to the taste of the toothpaste he usually use on his own teeth.

Just last night, I was partying like a fucking party animal, music taking control of my body, drunkenness consuming my state of mind like an inevitable disease from all those booze I might or might have not regret taken. With my fucked up state, I really did have no other choice at all but to go to the nearest house I knew, it was a good thing he let me sleep in his room, making himself sleep on the couch instead.

Dave Mustaine.

Mustaine has been a mutual friend of mine, being introduced by a close friend of mine that was also a bandmate of his from Megadeth not long ago. We weren't that close. At least that's what I thought. I supposed when I first lay my eyes on that redheaded boy, I couldn't really place what my mind think about him.

I thought he was just another rock star. A famous one, sure. Yet the moment I got to know him.. he was.. interesting, to say the least. Fucking charismatic, to say the most. It's almost as if every time he does or say something in front of me, his charm was trying to light up a flame in my heart that no one ever did since a long time ago. My eyes can’t help but always look his way whenever he’s around, my breath became uneasy whenever our skin touches even if it was just a millisecond, butterflies always found their way into my stomach each time I hear his voice say my name, each letter he let out acting as a sweet lullaby to my ear.

But, god no. He’s a fucking idiot.

He had the cockiest smirk ever, one that make me want to punch his face again and again to wipe it off. My, don’t even mention the stupid jokes he like to make, or the way he play with his hair every single second like he was a shampoo brand model, or the way he roll his eyes every once in a while when he’s annoyed, or the way he flirt with every single hot chick that put their skins on display for him. How could one even find interest in him? He’s a literal buffoon!

Why am I even thinking of him?

My head shook to snap myself out of my thoughts while drying up the wet skin of my body using one of his spare towels, dabbing the soft fabric over my body as it captures the water on me. Once I’m done, I put on his clothes that I borrowed, having some extra layers of fabrics on my body as a shield for me to deal with the sharp coldness of yet another day in the winter season, despite how odd I always looked when buried in thick layers of clothing. Better than trying to tough out the cold.

I make my way out of the bathroom, my hands focusing on braiding my hair while I continue to step forward through the hallway of his house, eventually finding myself entering his kitchen, having enough of hearing the endless grumbles of my starving stomach, and if he won't feed his.. 'guest', then I will feed me myself.

My hands starts rummaging through his kitchen. Starting from the cabinets, to the counter, to the fridge. I groaned as my other hand hold my stomach, the starvation was really getting to me, perhaps it was the hangover.

"What the fuck are you doing to my kitchen?"

My body spun around quicker than expected, my hands closing the fridge behind me as I put on my widest smile for the confused Dave Mustaine who standing before me, acting clueless as if I wasn't just doing an investigation in his kitchen just a second ago.

Moving away from the fridge, I shook my head with a nervous chuckle, "Nah, nothing." I answered, grabbing my bag and moving past him, "You should really uh.. buy some groceries though. Starvation do cause death, buddy." I awkwardly pat his shoulder as I walk past him, making my way out of his not so helpful kitchen.

Before I could move even further, my wrist was caught to stop in a gentle grasp of Dave's hand, a simple touch of his hand causing a lump to build up in my throat, my cheeks turning the slightest bit pink. How I hate the way I love every single interaction between us. I love them all too much, perhaps.

And that's a stupid thing to do. Because no matter how much I love every time we talk, every time we touch, every time we look at each other, I can never bring myself to make an act or do something about it. I always thought I was completely out of his circle of interest, nothing like those groupies. Again, not like it matters.

Slowly, I begin to turn around to face him, my eyes at once meeting his own yet again. God bless him for having those hazel eyes. "Where are you going?" Dave ask me, tilting his head just the slightest bit.

"Uh.. home?"

He let out a small sigh and let my wrist go out of his grasp, crossing his arms over his chest instead as he spoke, "I don't think that's possible." He shrugged his shoulders, looking away, his gaze fixated on one of the windows while his hand rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "It's snowing pretty bad outside. Can't even open the door. There's snow all over the doorsteps."

My eyes widens, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, "What?! But I need to go home!" I protested, an annoyed groan leaving my lips shortly after.

Dave let out a chuckle, his lips creating a wide mocking grin at me while he took a step forward, "Well, be my guest if you want to freeze to death out there." He spoke, a hint of teasing in his voice as he look down at me, "Your corpse, not mine."

My eyes rolled, annoyance painting my face as a desperate cover of how much I want to crumble down to the floor from the way he was looking at me. "Gonna die of hunger anyways." I huffed.

There's absolutely no way in hell am I staying away from my home any longer than I have been, not to mention this starvation is getting way harder to handle, I feel like I could faint any seconds now if I don't have some appetizing food in front of my eyes. How many times do I have to mention how hungry I am?

I click on my tongue, tapping my foot on the floor as my eyes wander around the house, thinking of another way to get out of this place. All I needed was to go home, eat, and sleep till this season is done and the sun will shine my way again.

I tilt my head, an idea sneaking it's way into my mind, "You know what?" I sigh and start walking towards one of the windows, hearing footsteps that belongs to Dave following behind me closely. I gaze out the window, seeing the amount of snow covering the pavement outside. He really wasn't exaggerating at all.

I start placing my foot up on the window, "I'm gonna get more layers of clothes, I'm gonna open this window, I'm gonna climb out, and—"

"Nu-uh. No way." He shook his head and grab me by the arm now, his grasp slightly firmer compared to the one he had on my wrist earlier. "Did you not hear me? You're no Jack Frost, you'll kill yourself!"

Dave started dragging me away from the window, making me groan while I try to keep up with his steps, "No, you said be your guest! And— wait.." I cut myself off as I slowly smile and look at him, making him raise one of his thick eyebrow in confusion. "You watch Jack Frost?!" I laughed out loud, almost tripping on air, "God, you're a dork."

"Shut up." I hear him mutter, scoffing.

That same smile stays on my face, trying not to let out more laughter at the thought of tough metal frontman Dave Mustaine watching Jack Frost in his free time, eating cereal as he do so. I can't help but think it's adorable. I can help but think he's adorable.

By the time I snap myself out of my thoughts, he had dragged me all the way into his bedroom, the hold his hand had on my arm staying firm and strong while he took me to the bed, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me down to sit on the edge of the bed. I look up at him in confusion.

Meanwhile, Dave stared back down at me, eyes locked with mine, lips slightly parted with his hands still on my shoulders for awhile. There was something hidden behind his eyes, an emotion I haven't seen from his hazel eyes before, an emotion that seemed to be desperately hiding behind all those toughness.

That look he held in his eyes evaporated into thin air when he shook his head and took a step back from me, "Just.. stay here. Keep yourself warm." He told me. I watch closely as his body turns around from me and his legs start leading him out of the room.

"Wha—”

”I’ll be back!”

There really was nothing else for me to do as I watch him leave the room— practically sprinting, leaving me in this bedroom I’ve spent the night in, this bedroom I’ve oddly find myself getting comfortable in. His bed was comfortable and surprisingly clean, I have only realized it now as I run my fingertips over the mattress below me, too drunk to appreciate the amount of comfort his bed granted me with last night. And also too drunk to notice the surrounding of the room before, a room I’ve never been in before last night.

Now that I’m sober enough to control my mind, I slowly stood up from the bed and take a walk around the room, my eyes gazing at every single detail I could spot in this bedroom of his. The pack of Marlboro cigarettes resting on his bedside table, a stack of papers — which I assumed were lyrics he wrote— next to the pack of cigs, his wardrobe slightly opened with clothes peeking in it, his landline phone, the view of snow falling down endlessly outside the window.

It took me quite awhile. It took me about five minutes of staring out into the snow outside to finally get it in my head what was happening now.

Dave. And I. In his house. Just the two of us. Away from the chaos of the world, away from a third presence between us, away from the freezing cold weather, away from the usual distance that would build itself up between us. Yet of course he won’t know it. Of course he won’t know that this, being in the same house as him, was something I wish I could cherish forevermore. Something I wish is way more big of a deal than what it actually is. Just a delusional coincidence.

Yes, I was trying to push those thought aside, trying to think of him like another asshole rockstar to avoid being influenced by. But my heart was louder than my mind. There was really no more hope for me. My heart was completely absolutely infinitively messed up by him, full by all the little things I’ve noticed about him. My heart has been set on fire by that same charm I said he had. There’s only two things that could set that fire down; love.. or heartbreak.

He’s a man, majority of them are too blind to see the amount of emotion you’d hand out to them in the palm of your hands, walking pass you like you were just another beating heart. If only they he knew this heart of mine don’t beat normally around him. If only he knew the way my heart felt like it was about to jump out of my chest even when he only walk by.

I was snapped out of my thoughts shortly when the door opened yet again. Turning around, I was met by the sight of Dave himself, walking in with a tray filled with s’mores and two cup of hot chocolate, tiny marshmallows swimming in those cups while he gently set the tray down on the bed, his body moving to sit on the soft mattress.

Taking his gaze on me as a silent invitation, my own body moved as well to sit back down on the bed, just slightly close to him, still making sure to keep my distance. I look down at the tray while he spoke, “You said you were hungry? Here you go.” He beckoned to me towards the tray, indicating he wanted me to eat the s’mores.

A small smile slowly trails back into my face as I look up at him and a soft chuckle escapes my lips, feeling flattered by his instinctive thought. “Thanks. Really. I thought I’d pass out.” I sigh in relief, taking one of the s’mores.

I feel his gaze staying on me as I take a big bite of the s’mores, making a muffled hum from the delightful taste of the s’mores. Looking up, I see his face scrunched up in some sort of concern as I chew on the food, muffling out a quick, “It’s really good!” with a wide smile on my face as I use my free hand to give him an approving thumbs up.

Slowly, his own lips starts to curve up into a smile, a sparkle of joy seen within those eyes of his, “Yeah? You think so?” His smile only got wider by the time I nodded my head in confirmation, a small chuckle leaving his lips.

Seeing that smile on his lips, knowing it was meant for me.. God, I really shouldn’t feel this way..

I set the s’mores back down on the tray and look down at my hands, my mouth still busy on chewing, my fingers fiddling with the hem of the sleeves on the sweater Dave borrowed me. A wave of silence washing over the both of us. It was oddly comfortable, a peaceful quiet moment, the taste of s’mores on my tongue, feeling his presence next to me.

My eyes glances to my side, spying on his own pair of hands, finding them fiddling with the fabric of his shirt the same way I’m doing to mine, our hands moving in sync, a reflection to one another.

My hands slowly come up to be on each of my arms instead, rubbing my freezing skin through the layers of clothes on me, desperately seeking for any hint of warmth despite already being buried by thick clothes, the cold was way too strong than last night.

"Cold?"

The sound of his voice caught my attention, looking up his way with a raise eyebrow before glancing to the window, the snow still covering the view outside, an icy sight of an obviously cold winter day. "It's winter.." I slowly spoke, as if the fact wasn't clear enough.

"Right.." He nodded and looked back down, his voice quiet in an embarrassed manner.

God didn't prepare my mental enough for an awkward interaction. Let alone an awkward interaction with Dave Mustaine. Seeing him acting quiet for once, looking down like a nervous boy, it only made my feelings harder to contain. He was acting strange. By now, I thought he would’ve make an idiotic comment. But no.. It’s just silence.

I can't help but wonder.. what was on his mind? What was his heart feeling? What was that emotion hidden behind his eyes? What am I in his vision? The thoughts fogs up in my mind, hard to blow away, demanding to be answered. Meanwhile deep down, in the deepest core of heart, I am in a war. In a war between embracing this odd feeling of mine for him, or pushing that feeling away, avoiding it like it was just a clumsy mistake.

He was making it hard. Sometimes he seemed so close. Sometimes he seemed to be so far away.

To be fair, love itself is hard to define.

”So..” I started, looking down at the cup of hot chocolate I had previously grabbed in my hands, watching the way the marshmallows floats around the chocolate liquid. “How long do you think till the snow calm down?” I ask, my voice soft as I raise the cup up to my lips, taking a sip of it, releasing the cup with a sigh from the warmth introduced to my lips.

Dave looked up at me and grimace, his shoulders shrugging yet again. “I don’t know.” He spoke, eyes darting down to his hands yet again, his lips letting out a small mumbled “Sorry.”

This time, it was my turn to look back up at him, eyebrow raised up in confusion to why he apologized out of nowhere, confused by this new demeanor of his. There was something strange and unfortunately I’m no Sherlock Holmes enough to find out what it is. Slowly, I ask, “Why are you saying sorry? You can’t control the weather.” I chuckled out awkwardly.

A sigh leave his lips, that same unreadable look filling his pupils, his legs moving to cross themselves on the bed. “I’m not the best at having a girl over… casually.” He chuckled as well, grunting as he let his back fall to lay down on the soft mattress.

Casual.

I had to force my own lips to smile, a laugh coming from the back of my throat as I slowly let my body rest on the mattress as well, laying down next to him, a distance still between us. Unfortunately. “Really? Just because I’m here, a girl, and a casual friend? You have a lot of friends that are girls!” I spoke.

”Well yeah, because they’ve been close with me for years. But you..”

”Yikes, is it because we just met last year?”

Still, I try to laugh the situation out, something I shouldn’t have done. Because all I got in return was the same silence from earlier. That silence that seemed peaceful yet torturing at the same time. I never thought I’d wish Dave Mustaine would start rambling out his randomness till I discover this silence he can bring.

My eyes were on the ceiling, watching the lightbulb of his room flicker the slightest bit, the taste of hot chocolate lingers on my tongue, while I could feel a pair of eyes set on me, watching every single little movements I do. The feeling of his gaze on me makes my face felt like being burnt, heating up like a stove, while my heart beats hard and fast like the drums in his songs.

"...You feel different."

Slowly, my head turns to the side, cheek against the bedsheets as my eyes stares back at his, a confused look on my face, a question leaving my lips in an unsure, soft tone, "Different? What exactly do you mean?"

I hear him sigh, this time he was the one that looked away and up at the ceilings. His mouth stayed quiet for awhile, I could tell he was thinking of something very very slowly, being very careful with his thoughts. He was readable, yet hard to expect at the same time. There's not really a definitive word to use to describe him.

"You're.." He started, his words trailing off before he slowly start again, taking a deep inhale in advance, as if he was about to say something that could either be his life or death. Maybe he was.

Dave kept his eyes on the ceilings, as if he was afraid to look back into my eyes, he start to speak, "You're so.. wonderfully you.. In a way.. like.. God, what the fuck am I talking about and why can I not think of a single word?" He cursed to himself, rolling his eyes as he rubbed his temples using his fingers.

"See, that's what you fucking do to me." He say, his voice somehow staying soft despite the curses he spoke out, "You know me, I'm no man to stutter and rethink my words before I spit them out, but you— you make me want to do, say, and be the right thing as if it even means anything to you, because I do know for a fact that in your eyes, I'm just another dirtbag rockstar and not—"

"WAIT!" I blurted out, my hand darting out to grab his shoulder and stop him from continuing his ramble. While trying to ignore the unstable beat of my heart, I say, "What exactly are you talking about? Slow down."

This time, Dave look away from the ceilings, his gaze darting to the hand I had on his shoulder first before finally meeting my own gaze, the ice that was trying to hide whatever emotion he had in his eyes starting to melt very slowly, the emotion held in his pupils becoming much more clear to look through. Yet still not bold enough to make it clear what he was feeling.

Both of my cheeks were heating up more than it ever did, I didn't even need to look to know it was probably red as fuck by now. My fingers were fiddling with the sweater still, unable to stop, unable to be controlled. My eyes lingers on Dave, waiting for him to continue.

I waited patiently for another single letter to escape his lips, but they never did.

He didn't talk.

He acted.

It took my mind quite a few minutes to realize what was happening. His body hovering over my own, trapping me, his left hand on my hip, his right hand on my cheek, the scent of his shampoo the intoxicating my brain, meanwhile the sweet taste of hot chocolate on his lips meets the taste of hot chocolate on my own lips, soft. Gentle. He was slow with his lips, only moving the moment I had pressed mine back onto his. What I know we would’ve been a few clothes off by now if I had been a groupie, here on his bed with him. But I wasn’t. I was just a girl who was lucky enough to be friends with Marty Friedman who was generous enough to play cupid and introduce me to Dave Mustaine.

Before this, my heart would feel heavy. Something lingering and longing inside it, something wanted to be expressed and set free, a feeling I thought was dangerous for myself to embrace, a feeling I forced myself to suppress, trying to keep it safe and sound inside my little heart that I fear of being broken. But instead, the feeling of keeping in an emotion inside my heart.. an emotion so wild.. an emotion so deep.. it makes my chest feel heavy whenever my gaze lands on him, denying the feels he gave me.

Yet here we are, our eyes shut and our lips connected, our hands over each other— trying to hold onto the reality we fear is an illusion, our souls connecting to one another, the warmth radiating off his body and into mine, almost coating me completely with that warmth. A warmth of care. A warmth of possible love. A warmth as warm as daylight, shielding my body and my heart away from the cold winter day.

I don’t know who this man was. But I sure love him more than the Dave Mustaine he put on display in public.

By the time his lips stops moving, his head slowly pull away from mine, giving a few more extra inches in the distance of our faces, his eyes wide as if he had seen a ghost, his lips parted, the skin of his cheek reddening more as the seconds go by, almost as red as the strands of his hair that I have in my fingers now, twirling some of the strands around my finger. Our eyes never broke their contact while our hearts beat in unison, seeing love along with my reflection in his eyes.

Slowly, he let his body fall limp on top of mine, holding my body in his arms. ”Holy.. shit..” His words came out, a tone of disbelief. Slowly, my lips curls up into a big smile, one I cannot contain, one so wide my cheeks would’ve hurt if it wasn’t for the warmth in my heart consuming my whole body.

”What?” I laughed softly, stroking his hair.

I can feel him shake his head in the crook of my neck, his hair tickling my skin, making me smile wider than I already was. “Nothing,” His lips mumble against my neck, holding me against him, “It’s just.. I think winter is my favorite season now.”

For awhile, I felt that the saying of ‘heaven is a place on earth’ is actually understandable, for I feel that I was in heaven at the moment in this little moment of ours, my heart beats so hard at it’s own that I could barely utter out a word, and I seem to find the happiness I seek, right here, right when I’m in his arms, the cold of the weather abandoned like an old news.

”Only when you’re here.”

[fictional-love-is-my-life]

Hi... I am so happy to see my request finally come true...

So here I am with another request and I have some particular theme in mind

Human optimus prime x reader. Optimus is an English teacher where the reader studies.

One day the reader finds a letter stuck in her book which she borrowed from the Library to find a beautiful poem (which optimus left accidentally). She decided to compliment that so she wrote something of her own...and returned it

And then she and that writer (optimus) started to talk anonymously through this type of letters eventually to find out about each and and confess falling for each in 2 line poem like

"roses are red,

voilet is blue

My heart beats so fast

When I think about u"

Fill the gap as u like...u can change it a bit as well

Thank you in advance if you are doing it

If not...it's fine also no biggie

Have a great day or night ❤️🩵💙

Hello hello! Thank you for this request and thank you for being so patient with me. I have finally finished it!

Human Optimus Prime English teacher x Female student Reader

This is set in a college, reader is at least 20+

~~~~~~

English has always been one of your favorite lessons. Something about it intrigued you, especially the poetry lessons. It may have helped that it was taught by your favorite teacher.

Mr. Prime stood at the front of the class, a poetry book in his hand. All eyes were on him as he spoke, talking about many of the techniques used by the author of said book.

The bell rang, indicating the end of class. Most of the class was happy and eager to leave. But the sound made you sad, you could have listened to Mr. Prime for another couple of hours. Yet you obeyed the bell since you had a few other classes to attend that day.

“Now, if anyone is interested in reading this, I do highly recommend it. You can find a copy in our own library here on campus.” Mr. Prime stated, then began saying his farewells to the students. You smiled at your favorite teacher, feeling a small burst of energy as he smiled back at you.

~

After finishing all your classes for the day, you headed to the library. It was late in the afternoon, making you doubt that the poetry book Mr. Prime suggested would still be there. But you thought you would check, just in case. To your surprise, it was still available. You reached out, grabbing the book. It was a little aged, the spine was worn and some of the pages were bent at the corner. That just meant it had been well-used and well-loved.

You checked out the book, tucking it away into your bag. You were going to look at it back in your dorm room, as you were starting to get hungry.

You grabbed food from the small café on campus, then headed to your dorm room. You were happy to have one of the rooms on the college grounds, it meant you never had to walk too far for anything whether it was classes or a quick meal.

Entering the small room, you tossed your bag and food onto the bed. You were done for the day, so you decided to change into more comfortable loungewear before climbing onto your bed. You pulled out your food, eating while you went through your bag.

You tugged the poetry book out, placing it in your lap and using one hand to open it. The moment the pages came loose, something fell out. It was a single piece of paper with writing on it. The handwriting was beautiful, neat, and well-written. It was a poem. You hummed in amusement, of course, it was a poem stuck inside a poetry book. It must have been left behind by the last person who checked the book out.

Curiosity got the best of you, so you began to read it.

You re-read the poem over and over at least 5 times. It was beautiful, soul-capturing, enlightening. The words stuck in your head on a constant loop. You knew it was just a random person's work, but the way the words were written, it felt as if it was a letter made just for you.

It was so inspiring that it made you want to write your own poem, in response to them.

You worked for hours, writing then scratching out the words and starting again. After going through at least ten pages of your notebook, you finally had something you felt was good enough. It wasn’t as good as the poem you just read, but it was still good.

~

A few days later you had finished the poetry book you took from the library. It was about time to return it. You picked it up, then spotted the poem that fell out of it sitting on your desk. Your own poem sat next to it. You wished you could find the author and tell them how much you loved their work, but you knew you’d never find out who wrote it.

Part of you wanted to keep the poem, but at the same time, you didn’t. It was so beautiful, that you felt it needed to be shared with the world. You grabbed a post-it, writing on it “This was beautiful”. Sticking the post-it on the mystery person's poem and put it back into the book. Your own poem caught your attention.

Before, you hadn’t been confident sharing your poems with other people. But the idea of sharing it with others anonymously didn’t seem so bad. You also thought it might be quite funny, giving the next person to check out the book two poems to read. You hoped someone would appreciate your work. You took another Post-it writing “Mine is not as good” and stuck it to your poem. You then placed it into the book behind the first.

You took the book back to the library, checked it back in, and placed it nicely onto the shelf. You felt happy and a little excited, you wondered who would get the book next and what they would think of it.

~

Once it was out of sight, you forgot about the poetry book. It only returned to your memory when you were in the library a couple of days later. Curious you made your way to the literary section; you dragged your finger across the books searching for it.

There it was, in the middle of the shelf. Its worn-out spine made your stomach flip in excitement. You wondered if there would be another addition to the poems, who it would be by, and what it would say. However, there was also the possibility that the poems would have been taken.

You picked up the book and opened its pages. The pages instantly opened themselves, revealing a single piece of paper. It was the same beautiful hand writing from the first poem, obviously from the same writer. Yet it was different. It was new!

You instantly started to read it, still standing in the middle of the library’s aisle. It started by quoting a line from your poem, then continued on its own, saying how much they loved your poem and how beautiful they thought it was. They wrote how they felt alone in their own poetic dreams, and that your words were like a song to their heart.

Your stomach fluttered as you read the poem, in complete disbelief that they liked your work. It made you ecstatic, your creative energy bursting. You had to respond and thank them for their words.

You rushed over to an empty table in the back of the library, pulling out your notebook. Scribbling away, you tried to put your emotions into words. You had to express how much their words meant to you. You finished the poem with a few lines about how much you enjoy poetry and how the act of writing poems gives you joy, like a fresh flower on a warm summer’s day. Once you were happy with your poem you tore out the page and stuck it into the poetry book.

This time you kept the mystery person's poem. Their words meant so much to you, so this time you were going to keep it to yourself. You gently put the poetry book back on the shelf and rushed out of the library. You thought about sticking around, waiting to see who would come to pick it up. But you also thought that might be quite creepy, so you just decided to leave.

That night you lay awake; your stomach filled with butterflies. You lay on your side, staring at your desk where the mystery person's poem sat. It’s words circling in your mind. You imagined who the author was, what they looked like, what they sounded like. You could hear their voice in your head as you read their words, and you wondered if they sounded the same in real life. You pondered if they were thinking about you as well.

~

The next morning you got up early. Even though you had barely slept you felt energized and excited. You rushed over to the library, getting to it before it even opened the doors. Tapping your foot impatiently you waited for the library staff to arrive. Eventually, they came, your heart pounding as they slowly unlocked the door, allowing you inside.

You rushed inside, beelining for the poetry section. You scanned over the shelves, then looked again. The book was gone. You felt a sting of disappointment, replaced a few seconds later by excitement. If it’s gone, it could mean the mystery person has it. Could they have already read your poem? Were they currently writing their own response? You couldn’t wait to find out.

Since the book was not there, you left the library and made your way to the food hall for breakfast.

Classes dragged by slowly, though it didn’t matter as you weren’t paying attention anyway. Your mind was on the mystery person, wondering what their next poem would say.

That same afternoon, you skipped over to the library, once more looking for the book. Yet again it was still gone. Obviously, they must be taking their time to return it. Either that or someone else took it.

You felt sadness and worry at the thought of someone else taking the book. It was your only way to communicate with the mysterious person and you couldn’t picture anyone else getting their hands or eyes on their poems. You sighed and left the library once more. You would just have to check the next day.

~

The following day, you had an early class, so you were unable to go straight to the library. You made your way after the second class, moving at a brisk pace.

You didn’t know if it was fate or just pure luck. But the book was there, waiting, calling your name. You grabbed it, instantly opening it to find a single page.

Your heart skipped. Giddy you took the book and checked it out. This had become something fun and special, so you were going to take the poem back to your room to read it. And once you had, you would take your time to create the most perfect reply.

~

You and the mystery author traded poetic letters for two weeks. Allowing each other at least a day to take the book home and write a response. They were constantly on your mind, their words and the possibilities of who they were. You were desperate to meet them, but you didn’t know how to initiate it or when, terrified you might scare them away by asking to meet.

Every other day you rushed to the library. Your face had become well known, and it became a little joke between the staff that you always took out the same book. You never minded though, any other time you would have thought it was also strange someone took out the same book every day. But you were too preoccupied with enjoying the situation. It was fun, exciting, and exhilarating to get secret poems from a mystery person.

You made your way to the library once more, waving to the library staff.

“Back again! No need to ask what for. You might as well just take it; we know you’ll bring it back.” An older lady laughed. You chuckled; she wasn’t wrong.

The book was there in the middle of the shelf. The paper on the spine was almost completely gone, showing how often it had been taken and handled over the past few weeks. You felt a bit bad for the poor old book. It had brought you so much happiness, so you decided to try being more delicate.

You gently took the book off the shelf and opened it.

Instead of the usual single page, there were two. One was the poem, and the other was a post it. You read the poem first.

"Roses are red,

Violets are blue

My heart beats fast

When I think about you"

Your stomach flipped. Heat spread across your face as a blush formed. They put into words exactly how you felt about them. You didn’t even know this person, but they had enraptured your heart entirely. You could feel the crush coming with each poem, but this just secured it. And by their poem, perhaps they had a crush on you as well.

Your mind swam with ideas of them, and their words that you almost forgot to read the post it. You finally remembered and looked at the small yellow paper.

“You are constantly on my mind, I must meet you if you would like to. I understand if you may not be ready. On Friday, at 5pm I will sit at the bench outside the library.”

Your heart pounds so hard in your chest that you thought it might explode. They wanted to meet you. You were excited, but also incredibly nervous. Were you ready? What if you went and they were disappointed? Or what if you were disappointed?

You shook the negative thoughts from your head. You had been thinking about meeting them for a while, now was your chance and you were not going to mess it up. You take the poem from the book, sticking it into your bag. From your own notebook, you tore out one page and wrote “I’ll be there”.

You stuck the torn page into the poem book and placed it back onto the shelf.

~

Friday came quicker than you were ready for. You sat in your English class, staring at the clock. Usually, your attention would have been solely on Mr. Prime. But today, you thought about 5pm and meeting the mystery poem author. Your heart raced with every second. You began to plan out your outfit in your head, mentally prepping what you would wear and how you would style your hair.

You were knocked out of your thoughts by your classmate and friend nudging you. You turned to her a little annoyed that she disturbed your train of thought.

“Does Mr. Prime seem different to you?” She asked.

For the first time in that period, you looked at your teacher. He had a huge smile on as he talked, his suit was neatly pressed and he had a flower in his pocket. He looked cute.

“I don’t know, he’s just happy.” You shrugged.

“Yeah but, different happy. Happier than we’ve ever seen him.”

“Is that a bad thing?” You asked.

“No.” Your friend muttered. “I was just saying…never mind.”

You immediately began daydreaming again, picturing how the meetup would go. You practiced what you would say and how you would act.

Soon the bell rang and you were able to rush out of the classroom. English had been your final lesson of the day, so you rushed back to your dorm room to try on all your clothes. You had to find the perfect attire for the meet and you only had a few hours to do so.

After going through half your closet, you finally found the perfect outfit. A cute and flowy dress, you styled your hair and accessories to match. Once you were fully dressed you checked the time on your phone. 4.15. Your heart skipped, a small pit of anxiousness sitting in your stomach.

You breathed in and out slowly, calming yourself. It was a big day, and you hoped nothing went wrong. You really hoped they showed.

You decided to leave, thinking there was no harm in getting there a little early. They may have thought the same thing and could have already been there. You made your way to the library, your heart beating hard as you came around the corner. Your eyes instantly locked onto the bench outside.

It was empty. Your heart dropped, and you quickly looked at the time. 4.40. You still had 20 minutes, so there was no reason to get too panicked. Just because you were early didn’t mean they were not going to show.

You sat down and waited patiently, scanning over all the people who walked past, wondering if they were the ones coming to meet you. Nervously you kept checking your phone, the anxious pit getting heavier as it got closer to 5pm.

Eventually your phone read 5.01pm.

Yet you continued to sit alone. You reassured yourself that sometimes people were late.

5.05

Maybe they were caught up with something.

5.10

Maybe they forgot and they were just now on their way.

5.15

Maybe they said a different day? You pulled the post-it out from your bag, reading it and re-reading it. It definitely said Friday at 5. Your heart felt heavy, your bottom lip wobbling as you tried hard not to cry.

5.30

How long were you supposed to wait? You felt awful. You didn’t want to leave in case they arrived, but you also didn’t want to stay for too long. The idea that they weren’t coming was too painful, and you were about to just go home and cry.

You checked your phone one last time. 5.36. You rubbed your eyes, trying to stop tears before they even formed.

The sound of running caught your attention, making you look up. Mr. Prime was running over to you, his dress shoes clacking against the pavement, his tie flying in the wind as he ran. He stopped just before you. He smiled and said your name.

“Hello, Mr. Prime.” You said, wondering why he was running to you. Have you forgotten something? Maybe you hadn’t given him any homework, though you didn’t think so.

For a few seconds, you just stared at each other. He looked down and saw the yellow post-it in your hand, then took a seat beside you.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” He said, his voice sounding a little ashamed. You were about to ask what he was late for when he continued talking. “One of the students was asking for help on their project and I could not get away. By the time I finally told them I had to go, it was already 5, and then I had to run over here from my office. I do apologize for keeping you waiting.”

He then pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. It was your poem. Your mind finally clicked the pieces together. Your mind swirling with the realization that your English teacher was the mystery poet you had been talking to for the past few weeks. You tried to keep your excitement from bursting out. You had no idea what to say, all your preplanned conversations were gone. He sat there, smiling at you. His smile completely took your breath away. You had always thought he was cute, but sitting there now, finally revealed as your mystery poet, he was incredible.

“It’s ok.” Was all you could mutter.

“I’m so glad I got to read your work. It always brought a smile to my face and brightened my day. You’re a very talented poet.” Mr. Prime complimented.

“Me? You are much more talented. Your poems are so beautiful, Mr. Prime.” You replied.

“Please, call me Optimus.”

You nodded, repeating his name over in your head. He wasn’t who you expected. Never in a million years would you expect your professor to be your mystery crush. But you weren’t complaining, and you definitely weren’t disappointed. He was brilliant, and you were happy he was the mystery poet.

“I asked to meet here because I wasn’t sure where to take you or what you may like. As you were my mystery poet and I only knew so much from our exchanges.” He chuckled. Your heart fluttered when he called you ‘his’ mystery poet. “I’d like to take you to dinner if you’d like?”

“I would like that.” You grinned; your face hot from a fresh blush. Optimus suggested a nearby restaurant, one you were quite fond of. He then stood and offered you, his hand. You took it, linking your arm with his as you walked away from the library together.

The dinner was perfect, and conversation flowed easily between the two of you. You had so many similar interests, and your differences only complimented the other. After dinner Optimus took your arm once more and walked you back to your dorm, wanting to get you there safely. He paused halfway there, standing in a quiet part of the park.

“I wish to confess something, and you can tell me if I make you uncomfortable.” Optimus started. You guessed where he might be leading with the conversation, and you were very excited if you were right. “I have thoroughly enjoyed sharing poems with you. The experience was a joy, and I wished it could last forever. But the more we exchanged, the more my heart would flutter when I thought of you. I didn’t know who you were, yet your words made me feel like I did. I knew I had to meet the real you, so I could put a face to the beautiful words. And what I see now, is the words were just a reflection of their gorgeous author.”

Heat pulsed through your body from an extreme blush. He had such a way with words, written or spoken. You didn’t know how to respond, though you didn’t need to as he continued speaking.

“This may sound silly, as I only knew you through your words. But I had grown a little crush on you. And now, after meeting you in person, and enjoying the perfect night with you it has grown. I have fallen quite suddenly for you.” He confessed. His own blush was prominent on his face, even in the dim street light.

“I feel the same.” You burst out, not wanting him to be the only one to confess. You wanted to make sure it was known, so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable being the only one to pour his heart out. “I feel the same and have for a while. I have loved sharing our poems, but I knew I had to meet you. I was scared to suggest it, worried I might scare you away. You asking to meet was one of the happiest days of my life.” You grinned happily, doing a little happy bounce as you talked.

Optimus giggled, his own smile lighting up his face.

“I am so glad.” He cheered. Optimus gently took your hands in his. They were warm and gave your hands a soft squeeze. “I would like to continue this, and start having more official dates.”

You felt as though you were going to explode from happiness. You wanted to dance and sing from joy, but you kept yourself calm and just squeezed his hands back.

“Yes, I would very much like that as well.”

For a few seconds, you stared at each other, still holding hands. Optimus looked as though he wanted to say something, but was a little nervous to do so. You had never seen him act nervous before, but you found it adorable.

“May I kiss you?” He finally asked.

“Yes.” You replied immediately.

Optimus leaned down. You raised yourself a little to meet him halfway, not wanting him to bend too far and hurt himself. The gap closed, and your lips met his. His lips were soft and warm and fit against yours perfectly as if they were made specifically just to kiss you.

You kissed for what felt like an eternity, though it was most likely just a minute. You didn’t want it to end, the feeling was so magical and soothing. Optimus was the first to pull away, a happy smile across his face.

“Accidently leaving my poem in that book, was the best thing I have ever done.” He commented. You giggled.

“Well, me taking your suggestion and picking the book up was the best thing I ever did.” You smiled.

“Oh, then suggesting the book was also the second-best thing I have done.” Optimus added. You laughed, Optimus chuckling along with you. “I shall get you back to your dorm now, as it is getting late. But I look forward to progressing our relationship.”

“As do I.”

Optimus leaned down to place one final kiss upon your lips, before walking you the rest of the way home.

[yansimstorythatiwillnotworkon]

Megami Saikou

Name: Megami Saikou

Gender: Female

Class: 2-2

Club: Student Council

Persona: Lovestruck (Devoted)

Reputation:

Overall: +100

Liked: +100

Respected: +100

Feared: +100

Crush: ???

Strength: Invincible

__

I'm not entirely sure about how I feel about Megami. I think she might be kind of dull, but that's only via the fan content. She's widely known as the most beautiful rival, but that's all the art about her is. Either that or changing her race and whatnot (which I never understood, personally). I feel like too many people focus on how Megami looks and what they want her personality to be, instead of her general lore that makes up her character.

This is probably why, despite consuming so much YanSim content, I never knew much about Megami. I think that despite YanSim being such a dark story, the majority of the fandom being built up of minors keeps the interesting fan content to an unrealistically vanilla standard.

Enough about the fandom, though. Regarding game play, I think that during Megami's week, the Student Council will really be justified to be as threatening with everyone as they are with Ayano. Possibly even leaving them vulnerable to bullying, rumours, humiliation, and being fired. Much more beneath the cut.

I feel as though everyone knows that Megami and the Student Council could be on close terms, but I also feel like people constantly forget about how dark their relationship with her could be as well. As much as I'd like to touch up on that, I didn't add the student council up above due to having limited space and having the ability to touch up on them in their own post.

I think that each rival should have a different relationship with their suitor, and it shouldn't copy the whole "guy in love who will not talk to his crush without the help of the main character" schmuck that placeholds the matchmaking system currently. With this in mind and considering that Kaga (supposedly?) is already in contact with Megami's father, I think that it isn't too far off to believe that he's also in contact with Megami herself and is aware of her goals once she arrives in school. How he goes about his actions while knowing this information is a complete enigma to me, though. I feel like if I were to look at Kaga and Megami in a more romantic light, I'd say that the two of them are completely compatible, but only other vastly different circumstances. Without all the Ayano-loathing madness, Megami would probably come to terms with the fact that, psychotic or not, a smart guy is a smart guy, and a smart guy is her type. Additionally, considering Kaga's overall madness, I'm sure in his mind "a future as the head of Saikou Corp" has always been "a future with Megami", regardless if at first it was a romantic attraction or not.

Regarding Taro, I'm sure that regardless of his mental stability in the future game play, Megami's approach in this week would not be giving him a lunch, borrowing his book, or going on a date with him. If anything, her entire week might just be her standing buy him until club time, where she and the student council can have a meeting. Taro himself, after the events of the past nine weeks, feels obligated to some degree to comply with her. Hell, if not to assist in the capturing of a supposed psychopath, then at least to become the hero he couldn't be for any of the past victims. If Megami were to gain feelings for Taro, then she likely wouldn't act on them unless Taro was in a more stable mindset. But if that were the case, I feel like Taro would grow - if not suspicious, then confused of Megami's intentions after she went completely overkill just to confess to him in the end anyway. If he wasn't in a stable mindset, Megami would likely transfer him to a safe and stable school and environment in order for him to continue the rest of his life like normal. Or at least, as normal as a traumatized boy can get.

Ayano will be "assigned" a trusted member of the school (most likely a student council member or female) to watch her at all times. This could essentially force Ayano to kill her chaperone or force her to do a 100% friendly route- which might not even be available in Megami's week all things considered. Several other students (like surviving rivals and close friends of Ayano) will likely be followed for the sake of believability of Megami not targeting Ayano as well as wanting to keep others safe and away from suspicious material. I imagine that if Ayano has kept to a peaceful and friendly route throughout the whole game, even befriending everyone (maybe the SC included), Megami will be forced to tolerate Ayano and not treat her harshly since at that point all her feelings would have just been due to judging her ancestors' actions. This would work far better than Ryoba's game (good and bad ending included) because Ayano has never canonically killed anyone, and can 100% make a change in order to normalize herself and her kids for the sake of Taro. I also think that the only way to peacefully defeat Megami if the peaceful and friendly route was taken would be to snatch Taro's heart before she can.

Raibaru's case could possibly just be an oc-implemented case since regarding her canon information, her being attached to Megami wouldn't make any sense, but I'll still explain a tad bit to you lot anyway. In the story, a reason why Raibaru is so attached to Osana is because of a loss in middle school. Due to this and an oc, she's become suspicious of Ayano and still thinks that Osana's life is possibly at risk. Hence why she partners with Megami.

[lildevyl]

Whumptober Day 17: Nowhere Else To Go

DSMP Confronting the Past Eggpire AU   Inspired by Paved with Good Intentions by Grimmijaggers, World Burn by RufiaAthena8384

TW: Gaslighting, Possession, Character Death

Summary:  The Egg has officially taken over Foolish and now he has all but one person to capture, Tommy.  Once he captures Tommy erases all of his memories and makes Tommy his Prince of Chaos, then the two of them can truly take over the SMP and other Servers.

Tommy stood there back against the wall, unable to breathe, as that thing came towards him.  The Egg had completely taken over Foolish, ruby red eyes, inhuman shark-like fangs, blood fines wrapping and merging with his legs and arms, blood-red veins that looked similar to the vines creeping up his neck and face. This wasn’t Foolsih!

Foolish, whom Tommy began to see as a friend.  Foolish who had no problem with Tommy helping out with the farms and animals.  Foolish who only lightly scolds him for taking things out of the chests without asking.  To be fair, Tommy has gotten better about replacing things when he does “borrow” them.  Foolish who had no problem in letting Tommy build his Cobblestone Towers without any jabs.  Foolish, who only makes Tommy rebuild and restore the materials if he accidentally destroys something.  Foolish who always smiled at him when Tommy spent too long with the Cows naming each one of them.

This wasn’t Foolish.  Tommy didn’t know what the was but it wasn’t Foolish.  It wasn’t someone that Tommy began to care for.  It wasn’t Foolish who Tommy started to see as a friend.  This was a Monster and somehow came to life from the deepest darkest pages of some horror novel.  That Tommy had somehow gotten teleported into.

“Let Foolish go!”  Tommy yelled.  Ignoring how his voice cracked.  “What do you want?”

“It’s simple really,” the Monster said with a shrug.  “I was imprisoned during the God War.  XD killed me and imprisoned my soul, my essense, so I couldn’t come back.  But he’s a fucking idiot if you ask me.”

“Who - who are you?”  Tommy asked reaching behind him for the potion bottle.

“Isfet,” the Monster answered and smirked at Tommy.  “The God of Chaos, Maham, and Destruction.  And you Tommy are going to be my Prince of Chaos!”

“You- you can’t!  You - you wanted me gone!  Why would I fucking agree to be your Prince?!”  Tommy demanded.  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing and shook his head.  Desperately trying to keep the fear and tears from spilling out.

“Hehehehe.  Because Tommy,” Isfet said walking further into the underground room where Tommy tried to escape too.  “I finally understand.  After seeing everyone’s memories, seeing your’s after you interacted with my prison briefly, I finally understood.  I wanted you gone because I couldn’t affect you, I couldn’t control you.  And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t.  But now, I finally understand.”

Isfet smiled at Tommy and walked further into the room, vines blocking the entrance and the sound of the vines stretching and digging their way on the other sides of the room.  Trapping Tommy in with the Monster with nowhere to go.  Prime he really hoped that Sam’s plan worked!

“Seeing Foolish’s, Philza’s, Techno’s, and Eret’s memories of the God Wars and then seeing Dream’s and everyone else’s memories of the L’Manburg Wars and of Doomsday.  I finally understand.  You miscalculated the jump in exile and I couldn’t have been so happy that you did!  You ran to Techno because who in their right mind would mess with Techno?  But then Techno revealed that he owed Dream a favor and had no problem handing you over if he cashed it in.”

Tommy flinched at that.  He hated the fact that that was probably true.  It was why he originally joined Tubbo.  He wanted his best friend back and he just hated what he was becoming.  But he also knew that deep down, Techno would just hand Tommy over to Dream without a second thought.

“Oh, Tommy, Techno can’t hurt you now.  I know why you betrayed him.  If Techno had no problem in handing you over to Dream without a second thought thanks to that favor, then why not betray him first?  They can’t hurt you if you push them and break the friendship first, right?”  Isfet said stepping closer to Tommy.

“Oh, Tommy,” Isfet said gently taking Tommy’s face into his hand.  “I finally understand.”  It smiled down at Tommy, with a possessive smile.  “No one's going to hurt you ever again.  I finally get it.  Why I could never affect you, it was so simple, and yet I overlooked it.”  Isfet chuckled a bit and softly spoke.  “It’s because you're me.”

Tommy’s world came to a screeching halt.  What the fuck?!  Tommy couldn’t be affected because he’s this thing?!  No! No, no, no, no, no,!  That can’t be true!  The Monster had some kind of look in his eyes when it looked at Tommy, and Tommy didn’t know what it could be.  Fondness?  But that didn’t make sense!

“No!  You- you hurt me!  You wanted me dead!”  Tommy snapped and shoved the Monster’s hand away from him, backing up as much as he could. Trying to create as much distance as possible.  Tommy slowly reached for the potion bottle that was in his pocket.

“I did,” Isfet said giving a small nod of agreement.  “But that was before.  Before I took over Foolish and saw his memories.  Saw, Foolish’s, Philza’s, and Techno’s memories of the God War.  They were the ones fighting me, Techno tried to kill me but he allowed XD to give the final blow.  Stabbed me in the back literally and figuratively.” Isfet snarled at that.  Oh, he can’t wait to fully come back alive and kill XD!

“But you see Tommy all of us Gods can’t die, not really.  Our souls, our essense still linger, and we can take over others.  Some by fully possessing them but if we truly want to be reborn again, we must take over our “Human” counterparts.  Ever God has one.  Dream is XD’s human counterpart.  Sapnap is PVP’s, the God of Blood, War, and Insanity,  human counterpart.  Techno was the Champion for PVP.   George is HD’s, the God of Memory and Dreams, human counterpart.  Puffy is Prime’s human counterpart.  And you, Tommy, you’re my human counterpart.  It all makes sense, everything you went through, why I can’t affect you, why when I’m looking at you it’s like looking in a mirror of my younger self.”

Isfet smiles at Tommy.  Finally, he can be reborn and have his little Prince with him as they spread the Chaos and Carnage on this Server.  The other Gods be damned!

“Oh don’t worry Tommy.  You’ll only be trapped in the vines for a short amount of time when all of your memories are completely gone.  You’ll be my Prince!  We’ll rule this and any other server dares to defy us!”

“No!  No, Tubbo!  Ranboo!  They didn’t do anything!  Foolish!  Puffy!  They’re - they’re innocent.  Puffy was going to help me!”  Tommy sputtered.

“No, they’re not.  Foolish was in the God War and sided with XD and HD.  He watched as I was murdered!  Puffy?  Oh, you poor naive child!  She led her crew and nearly killed them all!  Why do you think she “retired” the Pirate Life?  And Tubbo?  He sided with Schlatt, didn’t he?  Escorted you out of the Country and the Home you helped build and gave up your disks for.  He exiled you!  Granted you did need to be punished but there were always other ways to go about it!  Tubbo ran L’Manburg, you might as well say that Dream was the real President and not Tubbo!  Ranboo stopped visiting you!  He will never stand up for himself!  Tubbo looked you in the eyes and he never would have protested!”

That was all that it took for Tommy.  He turned and ran to the corner of the room, quickly down the potion that was in his pocket.  He couldn’t hear another word of this.  He couldn’t stand to hear any more lies!  But as Tommy reached out and put his hands on the lever, he couldn’t help but look back at Isfet, at the possessed Foolish.  Was he telling the truth?  Did Ranboo actually stop visiting him because they decided that they had enough of Tommy?  Ghostbur left and never came back.  Techno only came and laughed at him.  Phil never once attempted to visit.  Tubbo only finally came after the disaster of the failed execution.  All of that and he never visited or tried to go against Dream?

Tommy now noticed that his hands were shaking, but couldn’t tell if it was because of fear, adrenaline, or something else.  Was what this Monster said true?

“Oh, Tommy, you’re not going anywhere.  The vines have this entire place surrounded.  Even if you have an escape plan, where do you think you're going to go?  I’ll trap you the minute you leave this place.  It’s finally time my son!”  Isfet said stretching out his hand and the vines began to come in and launch at Tommy.

Tommy pulled the lever and everything happened all at once.  The doors slammed shut cutting the vines off.  The room began to flood with Holy Water from the Church of Prime.  An ear-piercing painful screech came from Isfet.  Smoke was coming from him as he screamed from the burning water.  Trying hard to get out but it was no use.  The door was made of solid netherite and they were a room that was made out of obsidian.

Isfet looked at time, and he knew what he had to do!  The only way for him to survive was if he possessed Tommy!  His human counterpart!  It was the only way he could survive and be able to come back, without using so much energy to manipulate the weak-minded fools!  The water was about waist high and Isfet in his state of depression lunged at Tommy.

“I will come back!”  Isfet screamed.

But he couldn’t reach Tommy.  He looked down his other hand gripping his hand and in the back of his mind he felt it.  Foolish was breaking away, and back control of his body.

“No!”  Foolish called out.  “I won’t let you hurt him!”

“If I die so will you!” Isfet tried.  “If I take control of Tommy then both can live!”

“No!  I won’t let you hurt him!  I won’t let you hurt my friend!”  Foolish said.

The eyes of the possessed Foolish went from blood red to emerald green, his skin was taking on the golden totem skin tone again.  The room was nearly filled to the brim with the Holy Water.  Tommy drank the Potion of Water Breathing, so he knew he be fine, this was Sam’s contraption after all.

“Foolish?”  Tommy whispered.  He couldn’t tell what was his tears and what was the water.

“I’m sorry Tommy,” Foolish said.  “Don’t worry, I’ll still have another life.”

Isfet was killed by drowning in holy water.

*******

Tagging: @whumptober, @tracobuttons, @a-humble-narcissus, @isa-ghost

[potatonugget7]

Something Worse Than A Spider, A Child.

The sequel to OH MY GODS THEY WERE ROOMMATES?! also posted on AO3. It’s been like two years but here we goooooo!

TWs: Fear of death, Spiders. 3.8 Words

Wilbur is having an absolute *field day*. He tripped and dropped a whole bundle of firewood, got stuck in a spiderweb and nearly eaten, oh and then he was also captured by a human. IT WAS FANTASTIC! Then he met his soulmate who APPARENTLY defies the laws of the universe because rules are meant to be broken I guess!

Soulmates; for some they’re lovers, for some they’re best friends. Either way they are meant to be inseparable pairs. Everyone’s got one; that one person with whom you’re supposed to spend your life with. They’re tied together with a metaphorical string, fate pulling them closer and closer together until the day they finally meet. Both bear matching marks on their wrists and have the ability to message each other by writing on their arm.

---

Wilbur considered himself a very skilled borrower, a very well-educated borrower. With this information you may be wondering, how exactly did he find himself trapped in the sticky web of a garden spider? It’s a very short story. Unfortunately, this house was not the most ideal for a borrower, but it was his home, and moving was a lot of work. The biggest flaw was that it had children. 

A very loud, rambunctious teenager with an unfortunate fascination with bugs, insects, and mud. Meaning it spent most of its time running around the yard. The yard that Wilbur had to traverse during his day-to-day life.

Now how does this tie in (ha, tie) to him getting stuck in a spider’s web? Unfortunately, the child had just gotten home, yelling at the top of its lungs of course, about its latest school project. Involving insects. And usually said child did all its bug hunting in the backyard. So he knew he had to hurry if he wanted to make it home alive.

But hurrying when you’re in the process of carrying a stack of firewood in your arms usually tends to cause accidents, which is exactly what happened. The brunet borrower couldn’t see where he was going over the pile of sticks in his arms, and ended up tripping over a few rocks and was sent stumbling right into the sticky webbing strapped to the tall gnarled roots of the oak tree in the backyard. Wilbur had been trying very hard to avoid the webs whenever he went outside, knowing the orb weaver it belonged to was not one to be crossed. It wasn’t a particularly massive spider, not bigger than him, not like ones he’d heard stories of. But it was much bigger than any ants or bees he’d seen in the garden. And he knew how bad their venomous bites were.

His little brother had had a run-in with it once, before they’d gotten separated. It had left him unable to move for a few days, and the nausea and fever that followed was awful. Wilbur had tended to him the entire time, and thankfully Tubbo had recovered.

The tall borrower wondered where he was these days, and prayed to Prime that he was safe. Though currently, he was praying for his own safety. Death by an orb weaver was not swift and painless. He’d be paralysed by its painful bite, and then wrapped up in the silky webbing to be eaten later… just like the moth he’d seen tied up in its web the week prior.

‘Oh here it comes now.’ he thought fatalistically as the webbing vibrated, and the bright yellow marked spider started climbing down the large web, its beady eyes trained on the brunet. Wilbur stared up at it with a frown, trying not to let his fear show. It wasn’t like he wanted to die. Quite the opposite. He was actually absolutely terrified, but struggling didn’t work. He’d tried at least a dozen times. The borrower looked down at his chest, glaring down at his ugly yellow sweater before closing his eyes, waiting for paralysis to take him. 

Damn. He didn’t even get to say goodbye to his soulmate… 

He opened his eyes again and stared down at his arm, his trench coat sleeve covering the pictogram on his wrist. It was a picture of a music note, a sword down the centre of the treble clef. Wilbur sighed sadly and looked up at his impending doom with a fierce glare.

“I hope you get indigestion, you yellow menace.” he spat as venomously as the orb weaver’s own poison. The spider hissed in response, pinching its venomous pincers. So apparently, spiders can speak English. Cool. Unless this spider was secretly his soulmate. But Wilbur sincerely doubted that. Never in a million years had he heard of cross-species soulmates. The idea was just absurd.

“Oh go shove a moth in it won’t you? We both know you’d never beat me in a fair fight.” Wilbur snarled out, glaring into the spider’s beady eyes. 

Suddenly he felt the web vibrating more, continuously, but the garden spider wasn’t moving. The orb weaver seemed to pause, going still. If spiders were intelligent, he’d say he could see the gears turning in its head.

“What? Calling your mate are you? Am I a lunch date for the two of you or something??”

Then the spider ran away.

“...Uh… okay… bye then?” 

Anxiety pooled in his stomach as the webbing vibrated more and more, but it wasn’t a spider. The ugly yellow bastard was already scuttling off into the tall grass. Wilbur could feel the tremors travel from the ground to the webbing, he could see the ground shaking. Thunder roared under the earth as something big stomped closer and closer, and before he knew it, he found himself engulfed in an impossibly massive shadow, a pair of giant shoes planted centimetres in front of him. Well, bigger spider could definitely be crossed off the list!

“Where’s that yellow spider… I know it’s around here. It’d be perfect!” a loud voice rumbled overhead, and the brunet hesitantly looked up, and up, worried that his greatest fears were about to smack him right in the face.

And he was proven right as he saw the creature casting the shadow, was none other than that giant blond menace of a human, standing over him, a glass jar in hand. It wasn’t looking at him… yet, instead scanning the tree branches for… the spider apparently. You know what? Wilbur was fine with this. The death traps could deal with each other. The human would probably win but at least it’d be putting the orb weaver out of his misery.

The borrower squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a small startled gasp as the blond suddenly stepped over him obliviously, still looking around the tree for the bright yellow spider. While that was scary… he wasn’t dead! Wilbur slowly reopened his eyes, shuddering as he felt the tremors still. Now was his chance to get free while the giant was distracted and the spider was elsewhere!

Wilbur focused on one arm to start, trying to rip his right arm free from the sticky silk. Then once he got it free, he could pull his knife out of his bag and-

“Woah… what’re you supposed to be?” a voice cut through his thoughts, and the borrower felt his heart skip a beat. Looking down, the shadow had changed. Slowly he looked up, and up, and met the gaze of the massive human. It was tall and lanky, taller than most humans he’d seen in his lifetime, yet had a child-likeness to its face. Massive icy blue orbs bore into his own, and Wilbur felt a shiver travel down his spine, only one word going through his head.

Fuck.

“Well? You can talk, can’t you little man?” the human crouched down in front of him, and the brunet gave it the most venomous glare he could muster despite the fact that he was trembling. The borrower rules, AKA his way of life, said under no circumstances should you talk to a human. It usually ended in getting dissected or something painful like that. But also, fuck the rules, this kid just had such an insultable face. 

“So what if I can? What's it to you, big man?” he spat mockingly.

“Well, truth be told, you’re pretty unusual, and I just happen to be looking for something unique. You’re far more interesting than some garden spider that’s for sure.” the borrower tensed, trying not to show his nervousness as anxiety flooded into his mind like a tidal wave.

“I wouldn’t call myself particularly interesting actually. I’m a bit tied up right now, physically and metaphorically. So how about you help me out and we can just forget we ever met, yeah?” Wilbur tried, starting to sweat a bit.

“Hmmmmmm, nah,” the human gave him a toothy grin. “It’s not every day you find a tiny person in your backyard.” in all honesty, yeah that was understandable. But also fucking shit piss hell fuck shit-

The borrower let out a startled noise and visibly recoiled as a giant hand suddenly reached over and wrapped around his small frame, easily ripping him from the spider web and carrying him into the air. 

“This- okay how about we make a deal?” he tried nervously, and the human raised an eyebrow.

“What sort of deal? I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent businessman and not easily persuaded.” Wilbur swallowed nervously as he was lifted higher up, held in front of the giant face, the kid nearly going cross-eyed to stare at him. 

“Well, I’ll tell you the truth. I’m actually an alien.” he whispered.

“What.”

“That's right, I come from the planet of-... L’manburg…” the borrower said slowly.

“Sounds like bullshit but alright.” the human didn’t look convinced, but Wilbur continued the act.

“Wh- excuse me?? How dare you!” 

“Look pal, I know aliens aren’t real. You’re coming with me, and that's that.” Wilbur’s stomach lurched as the human stood to its full height, and he was stuffed into it’s shirt pocket.

“Just a sec-” the colour drained from his face as the giant started fiddling with the mason jar it’d brought outside with it, and started unscrewing the lid. Wilbur had a feeling he knew exactly what it was for, and his anxiety was suddenly heightened. His heart rate went from one to a hundred in less than a second as giant fingers pinched the back of his trenchcoat and carried him into the air, before unceremoniously dropping him into the glass prison. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

He slowly scooted back until his coat pressed against the cold, hard wall. The brunet crossed his arms over his chest, hiding how they shook as he continued glaring up at the child.

“Are you aware kidnapping is a crime?”

“I’d hardly call it kidnapping when you’re the size of a mouse.” the human chuckled in response. Wilbur was knocked onto his hands and knees as the container jolted suddenly, and everything started moving. He took one look at the ground far below before yanking his head back and glaring up at the giant once again.

“N-not even going to ask for my name?”

“Would you tell me if I asked?” blondie raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” Wilbur crossed his arms. “Will you tell me yours so I can stop mentally referring to you as ‘child’?” 

The human stopped in its tracks, sputtering out an offended string of noises.

“How fucking dare you! I am not a child you tiny bitch! If anything you’re the child!” 

“And how exactly does that logic track?”

“Cos’ you’re short an’ shit.” the borrower raised an eyebrow this time.

“Yes well I think it’s been established I’m not a human. So you can’t hold me to human standards.”

"What are you then? Some weird mutated rat man? Or are you a faerie?" the jar was lifted higher, and Wilbur nearly fell flat on his face.

“Are you going to tell me your name or not?”

“Fineeeeeeeeeeeeee,” the blond rolled its eyes. “It’s Tommy, TommyInnit, the biggest man.”

“Uhuh…”

“What's yours then?” ‘Tommy’ questioned, staring holes into his head with his massive eyeballs. “Wilbur. No title.”

“Got any friends, Wilbur no title?” the human asked teasingly, and Wilbur scowled.

“Not that I can think of…”

“So no one to miss you? Well don’t worry, you and I can be the best of friends.” suddenly the jostling worsened tenfold, and the poor borrower was beginning to feel motion sick.

Fucking hell…

He tried his best to stay upright, sitting back against the glass with his palms pressed to the curved walls.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to pass.” he bit out.

“Wha- why?! I’m probably- no definitely, the coolest and greatest man you’ve ever met!” Wilbur crossed his arms.

“You put me in a jar, and you’re annoy-ing.” he enunciated the last word. The blond human obviously wasn’t happy with this answer. The stupid child sputtered and scoffed.

“Well- y’know- I- I might seem a little annoying at first- but I promise it’ll grow on you!”

“...I don’t care.” he wasn’t exactly scared of the human anymore… it was more like… a fear for his safety.

Tommy’s face scrunched up in anger, going bright red, Wilbur thought he looked like a tomato- He yelped as he was thrown against the glass again, and he realised the human was swinging the jar through the air… again.

"Can you not??" he grumbled out, but Tommy didn't stop swinging his arm back and fourth as he walked.

"What was that little man? You're so quiet I can't hear you!" the blond replied loudly in an exasperated tone.

"Oh my Prime you are such a fucking child-" he grunted in pain as he was slammed against the glass wall again.

"ALRIGHT FUCK! I'M SORRY!" his stomach lurched and he fell onto his back, but the jar finally stopped swinging.

"Apology accepted."

"Prime, do you humans really feel no shred of guilt?? Empathy??" Wilbur demanded.

"I do but you're being a bit of a dick right now if I'm being honest." Tommy stated firmly, and Wilbur clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms. He paused, and stared down at his arm. That's right… he had a chance to tell him soulmate his goodbyes now! The only blessing the human boy unknowingly gave him. Quickly he rolled up his sleeve,

'Techno are you there?' he wrote quietly, trying his best to remain inconspicuous so as to not get interrupted by the blond human.

'Hi. I just got home.' an answer appeared on his arm, causing it to tingle.

'I have some…' Wilbur paused, dread pooling in his stomach as he thought about what he was writing.

'Bad news.' he finished.

'Ok. What is it?' his soulmate responded, the message didn't look all too urgent, but Wilbur knew that was just how Technoblade was sometimes.

'I'm… I'm kind of in troubl-' he started to write, when the jar gave another violent shake, and smooth wood appeared below his feet. Looking around, Wilbur realised it was a table, the big one in the kitchen where all the humans ate. An intrusive thought wormed it's way into his mind at the implications of that.

Tommy sat down in front of him, just staring him down with those big blue orbs. Why did blue-eyed people always look scarier than everyone else?

"Well you got awfully quiet." Tommy started, and the borrower gave him a frown of malcontent.

"Apologies, contrary to what you might think,most people don't enjoy making conversation with their kidnapper." he bit out, pausing to look down at his arm as it tingled again.

"Alright, kidnapping is a strong word pal." Tommy interrupted, only to get ignored.

'With the police?' the message read, and he couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped him, despite everything going on. The human stared at him like a madman. 

"The fuck are you laughing about??"

"Something my friend said! Is it a crime to want to laugh now?!" Wilbur snapped, giving him a venomous glare. Tommy looked like he was going to yell or something unnecessarily aggressive again, but stopped, a new emotion crossed his features; guilt.

"You mean… your soulmate?" the blond asked slowly, in a surprisingly gentle tone.

"...Yes." 

"Even… tiny people have soulmates?" Tommy asked, as if it was some wildly impossible concept. The brunet stopped himself from glaring, and instead swallowed down his anger and worry.

"Yes… of course we do. Everyone does." 

"Actually, I don't." the blond replied bitterly, and Wilbur gave him a confused look.

"What? Don't humans have them?"

"Yes, but I don't," Tommy held his arm up to show the lack of a pictogram on his wrist. "Dadza said I'll get one eventually, but I don't think that's how it works…" 

"Yeah… you look far too old to not have one…" Wilbur mumbled. He'd had his for as long as his memory dated back, and Tubbo's had appeared when he was only two or three. Wait- right Techno!

'No not the police! I mean a human Techno! This isn't the time to joke!' he scribbled quickly, ignoring how he could feel the human child's eyes burning a hole in his head. The silence that followed while Wilbur waited for a response was painful, but eventually it came.

'Oh. I'm sorry… I don’t know what to do. I hope they're nice.' 

'Techno. Human trouble. Obviously they're not nice!' he wrote back quickly.

'So… is this a last words kind of situation?' the message appeared across his arm in slow motion, and a few tears began beading down his cheeks.

'Yes…'

"Are you… crying?" a voice rumbled above him, and Wilbur remembered exactly where he was. He scrubbed away the tears and glared up at the blond.

"No! Fuck off!" the brunet snapped, despite the fact that Tommy sounded genuinely concerned. His tone had completely shifted, and the look on his face was sympathetic as he laid his head on the tabletop, staring into Wilbur's glass prison.

"Alright, suit yourself. I'm just trying to help." the borrower's brain wasn't paying attention to whatever Tommy said as he watched another human enter the room. A red-eyed man with pink hair, his dark roots stealthily showing his natural colour. The pinket looked nervous, staring down at his arm as he walked behind Tommy towards the cabinet where the cups were kept. Wilbur felt his heart beating rapidly, anxiety and panic pooling in his stomach and spreading through his core once again.

"Hm?" Tommy looked between him and the pinket a few times before he realised what must be going on. Suddenly giant hands wrapped around the jar again and Wilbur felt his stomach lurch once more. Tommy held the jar in his lap and turned slightly, blocking his brother's view of it's contents, but not before the brunet caught a glance of his arm.

Technoblade's arm.  

"Heyyyyy Blade." Tommy drawled out in the most suspicious tone ever.

"Hi…" he replied monotonously.

Wilbur's entire world had just come crashing down.

"So uh… what's going on with you? Why are you out here?"

"I'm making tea… and this is the kitchen." Techno deadpanned.

Techno was a human. His only friend, who made him feel safe and hopeful- and think that there were still other borrowers out there!

"You look kind of stressed." the blond pointed out obviously.

"Yeah… m' just worried about ny soulmate… he said some worryin' things and hasn't got back to me yet…" Wilbur hadn't even noticed the new message tickling his arm. He stared down at it in wide-eyed shock.

'I guess I should tell you something then.' the borrower swallowed nervously.

'That you're a human?' he wrote shakily. 

Technoblade let out a small gasp, before looking around in confusion and worry.

"Hello?" the pinket asked aloud, and Tommy looked at him like an absolute lunatic.

'Help me. Techno I'm here. I'm trapped. Your little brother caught me.' he wrote desperately, panic bleeding into his writing. 

There was a silence, before footsteps started thudding against the floor. 

"Tommy." the pinket started, and held out his hand.

"What? What do you want?" the teen asked defensively, hugging the jar tighter to his person with a defiant glare on his face.

"Give me the borrower." Techno demanded calmly, though his aura radiated an intimidating strength. Tommy looked shocked for a minute, before he sneered and shook his head.

"Leave my tiny friend alone and go find your own." 

Wilbur scoffed. Friendship was not what they had, that's for sure.

"Tommy. Give me my soulmate." the pinket tried again, sounding less patient. The borrower felt his mouth go dry and his heart clench. It really was Techno… and… he… actually wanted to help?

"Your soulmate?!" Tommy exclaimed in pure shock.

"Yes. His name is Wilbur." 

"I know what his name is! But what do you mean soulmate?!" Tommy demanded, haphazardly setting the jar down on the table so he could make wild motions his hands.

"Hes tiny! How can you guys be soulmates when hes not even human?!" 

"Don't know, don’t care." Techno stated dismissively before picking the jar up off the table, accidentally knocking Wilbur over….. again. The brunet pushed himself up and scooted back, a nervous look on his face as he pressed his back against the glass. So big… even bigger than Tommy… scary.

He met Techno's harsh, red-brown eyes, and swallowed nervously. Quickly they softened, but it did nothing to quell the poor borrower's anxiety.

"Well let's get you outta' here." Techno said before he started unscrewing the lid. Wilbur didn't have time to process anything as he was gently slid out of the jar and into the human's awaiting hand. The borrower immediately tensed up and braced himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for the fingers to close around him like vicious claws. But it never happened.

Slowly he opened his eyes again and looked around, hugging himself. Techno was just staring at him.

"Um…-"

"Sorry- I didn't mean to stare… this is just really weird." the pinket put the jar down and took several steps away from the counter, moving his free hand underneath the other for support.

"You… you knew I was a borrower?" Wilbur asked finally.

"Mhm."

"A-and you never thought to mention you were a human??" Techno looked conflicted, before nodding.

"I figured it might complicate things so I kept it to myself."

"You- I- AHG!" he yelled, tugging at his hair.

"...So mind explaining exactly what's going on? I'm still confused" Tommy interjected.

"Nah. The big kids are busy." Techno replied unapologetically before walking out of the kitchen, and headed upstairs, taking Wilbur with him. Nervousness tugged at his gut, and after a minute, Wilbur worked up the courage to ask.

“Um… Technoblade… what exactly are you… going to do... with me?” the tall human sighed, pushing his bedroom door open with a creak.

“I’m gonna put you down, an’ you can do whatever you want after. I’d like for you to stay and talk… face to face, but I can understand if you don’t wanna do that.” he said in an honest voice.

The borrower mulled over the words as Techno walked across the room to his desk. He gently set Wilbur down on top of it, before sitting down in front of him.

“Well… I suppose I could stay for a little bit…” the brunet started hesitantly. 

“Sounds good. Why don’t we start with how the little gremlin caught you?” Wilbur scoffed.

“I’d hardly call him little, but sure. It involves a web and the world’s worst garden spider.”

[chronurgy]

1 and 4 from the creator ask if you'd like and haven't gotten them yet?

What or who inspired your Durges design the most? A particular idea or vibe or perhaps another hottie or baddie?

I really just went into the character creator determined to make someone I thought looked hot, androgenous, and cool 😂 (I was so excited to eb able to give a character in a video game they/them pronouns!) I knew nothing about the dark urge origin so I was just having fun with the character creator. But in further thinking about and refining their design I've been guided by the idea that there should always be an edge of the unnatural to their looks. But just an edge. Just enough for people to realize that something is wrong after they've already gotten too close.

How did Durge come to be? Why them? Was it a vibe you tried to capture or a specific visual you wanted to represent? Did you borrow them from previous works or were they handcrafted for this story you have in mind?

Answered here!

But I'll also talk a little about my second and more neglected Durge, Aunrae. For her, I wanted to create a Durge who was very different from Vesper and had a very different relationship to Gortash. I wanted a contrast to Vesper's cold and crystalline aloofness and so she's much warmer and more interested in people. She makes friends everywhere she goes, especially during her time leading the cult. Where Vesper's great tragedy is their isolation, her great tragedy is that she can't stop reaching out for that connection with people even as it is through that connection to her that they are then destroyed. Vesper and Gortash have this insane freak4freak thing going on. Aunrae and Gortash on the other hand..... Woof. There was like six months where they were happy, Aunrae because she'd finally found someone to connect to that Bhaal couldn't force her to slaughter and Gortash because he'd finally found someone who could see his darker side and not freak out. And it worked! For six months. Then they sort of woke up and realized that they really don't have anything in common and don't really...... Like each other. At all. But they both see the other as the only possible port in a storm and so neither of them will let go. Gortash thinks he can fix her, just tweak some stuff and make her the sort of person he wants her to be (aunrae thinks more or less the same about him). Vesper is very defined by their present and future, so I wanted Aunrae to be defined by her past. That's why I gave her a comparatively detailed pre-bhaal backstory.

[teal-fiend]

tiny pred

Ok so: tiny pred

I haven’t really seen this concept anywhere before (let me know if you have). This isn’t about a tiny who eats giants, but rather a tiny who eats other tinies.

Content: fatal, unwilling prey, 

Imagine there’s a giant who finds a borrower hanging around their home, and so they capture it to keep it safe. They’ve always wanted to have a tiny, they know everything they need, they’ve got a nice little enclosure set up. And yeah their borrow friend doesn’t talk to them, and bites them sometimes when they try to pick it up, but it’s fine they haven’t known each other for that long. 

One of the giant’s friends who also has a (more friendly) borrower suggests that they let the two meet. The giant considers warning them about their borrower’s antisocial behaviour, but they decide it probably won’t be an issue. It makes sense that a tiny would be aggressive towards a giant who would pose a threat, but being around their own kind should be fine, and they probably would appreciate the company.

So the two borrowers are placed in the same enclosure, and since they seem to get along, they’re left alone together for a little while. 

When the giants return to check in, they find both of the borrower’s are gone. 

They panic and start looking all over for them, but there’s no hope. The borrowers aren’t responding to their calls, and there is no trace of either one anywhere. They must have ran off together, is their conclusion. 

The giant’s friend doesn’t want to give up, but eventually they leave without their borrower. After their friend leaves, the giant returns sullenly to the abandoned enclosure… 

only to find that it has not been abandoned. Their borrower has reappeared, seemingly out of nowhere. It sits on a wooden toy chair, resting their hands on an engorged stomach. 

It takes the giant a moment to realise what’s happened, and even still, they can’t believe it. They are distraught; horrified. But then, their borrower speaks to them for the first time: 

“You finally fed me. And it was a good meal. If you plan on doing it again, I might stick around.”

“No- you weren’t supposed to eat them! You have to spit them out right now-”

“It’s too late for that now,” the borrower croons, “but it’s okay, your friend doesn’t have to find out about this. You don’t have to tell them, you can just say that you never found us. If you let me go, you won’t have anything to worry about.”

“Let you go?” The giant scoffed, “you’re obviously a danger to other borrowers, how could I let you go?”

“What are you going to do, kill me? And you expect to befriend another borrower afterwards? How could you be able to befriend another borrower after you’ve already killed one? Would you tell them what you’ve done? Or would you just keep it a secret? What do you think they would do if they ever discovered what you’ve done?” 

The borrower paused to pick at their teeth, “and another thing, why are you even surprised? You had to have realised that I’m not a regular borrower. You me alone, hungry, with prey species, and you get upset when I eat? And why are you upset? Do you kill a spider when it catches a fly?”

“I’m not- I’m not going to kill you,” the giant said, exasperated.

“Well if you’re not going to kill me, and you’re not going to let me go, then you’ve decided to keep me. And if that’s true, then you have to feed me better. I can't live off of your table scraps. I need something.. Like this.” they gesture to their well fed belly.

The giant can’t believe that they managed to find the most sinister borrower ever. They didn’t want this, they just wanted a nice tiny just like their giant friend had, but now their friend’s tiny had become a meal. 

This was a different type of borrower, one that the giant had never heard of. They wondered if anyone else knew about this species

“You do talk a lot.” The giant said eventually

The borrower laughed a little, “only when I have something to say.”

“Okay so, I’ll let you stay, and… I guess I’ll feed you,, you know. But- in exchange, you have to tell me about yourself. Like, what are you? I thought I knew everything there was to know about borrowers, but then… there’s you.”

The borrower smiled, and told the giant everything they wanted to know.

[writertitan]

Heat

pairing: levi x reader

word count: 2660

themes: modern au, smut, sexual content!! mature and 18+ readers only!!

For the past two days, your radiator had been making a god-awful noise whenever it turned on. Had being the keyword, until the early hours of today when it decided it couldn’t take it anymore and died on you completely. The winter morning air was frosty and you had woken up in the middle of the night to a loud and sad sputtering noise as the radiator said its goodbye, leaving you in a bit of a conundrum when you quietly got out of bed to try and see if there was any saving it. There wasn’t, and you were internally freaking out. 

Now here you were, glancing at a phone screen that read 3:23am with the chill of winter already seeping into your little apartment. The sleet outside didn’t help either; that awful mix of snow and rain was only bound to make your apartment even colder. 

You weren’t the only one who had been startled awake either, and you frowned in dismay when you saw Levi sitting up in bed with an annoyed, still sleepy look on his face. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked in a husky voice, making you feel even worse. Levi was an insomniac by nature - tonight he’d been getting an okay night’s rest, only to be interrupted by your damn radiator crapping out on you. 

“It’s my stupid radiator. It broke,” you whined, voice not even above a whisper as you gave it a pathetic kick with your feet. 

You heard Levi sigh in exasperation and looked to see him pulling back the covers for you as a silent beckon to come back to bed. You didn’t need to be told twice now that goosebumps had already started flourishing on your exposed skin, and immediately snuggled up next to him to preserve warmth. 

“I’m just cuddling for a minute,” you murmured, stroking his bare torso. “I’m gonna grab us some actual pajamas and some more blankets. I doubt my fucking landlord is going to respond to a text at three in the morning to come take a look at the damn thing.” 

Levi made a grunt of disapproval and held you to him tighter, shaking his head as he nuzzled it into your neck. The motion made butterflies swirl to life in your stomach and you giggled at the ticklish feeling of his bedhead, kissing it sweetly as your arms wrapped around him. 

“It’s gonna get real cold real fast,” you warned, “and we’re hardly dressed for that.” Levi only had his boxers on and you weren’t much better off, clad in only an old shirt of his and your panties. 

“Don’t you know any basic survival skills?” he said suddenly, his voice and his eyes taunting you, finally gazing up at you from his place at your neck. “We should be shedding clothes. Helps preserve warmth better.” 

“Bullshit,” you scoffed, but the idea was already planted, and you knew exactly what Levi was getting up to when his hand strayed from your hip to caress your thigh instead. He was so warm, his skin and his touch, and it made your head spin. 

“I’m being serious, you little brat,” he mumbled, his lips grazing your neck as he spoke. “I know exactly how to keep us warm in your shithole apartment.” 

His little jab at your apartment didn’t hurt. He’d been asking you when you were moving out for months now and had been asking you to stay over at his place more often, using his, “My apartment is better than yours” excuse each time. 

You instead answered him by pressing up against him even more, hands exploring his torso and then moving up to his hair to pull his face towards yours. In an instant your lips were captured in a heated kiss, tongues and teeth clashing as Levi maneuvered to get on top. He straddled you easily, a growing erection prodding at your stomach as his hands gathered the hem of his borrowed shirt on you to pull it up over your breasts and leave the fabric bunched up above them. His lips broke from yours and you whined, trying to follow him as he sat up fully, but his hands pinned you down by your shoulders. 

A blush rouged your cheeks as you watched him scan over your body, hands slowly moving from your shoulders to cup your breasts once he was sure you wouldn’t move, and you rolled your hips up slowly to tease him. You saw that primal glint in his eye appear as you did that, his gaze finally flickering back to yours, but he shook his head.

“Don’t move,” he demanded, hands moving over your nipples that had perked up from both arousal and the cold, his eyes examining the goosebumps appearing over your body. He gently tugged his shirt off of you completely, discarding it amongst your pillows before his hands returned on their journey along your skin.

“Keep me warm,” you whispered, voice saturated with desire as you watched him. You stayed still apart from your wandering hands that found his chest, his abdomen, and then finally, the tent in his boxers. He swallowed thickly but didn’t say a word, hands moving from your breasts to your hips in one languid motion, fingertips toying with the elastic of your panties. 

“Levi,” you breathed out, “...please...” That familiar smirk ghosted at his lips and, after what felt like an eternity ,a hand slipped under the fabric of your panties. You groaned in satisfaction and rewarded him with a gentle squeeze between his legs, his own groan mixing with yours. His free hand grabbed the blankets that were curled around your waists and tugged them up so the two of you were now completely covered and shielded from the increasingly cool air in your bedroom, the confined space somehow even more erotic. It was only the two of you, nobody else existed underneath those covers, the world was all but gone, and you were grateful for your little bubble as your breathing grew heavier and your mewls got louder. 

Two of his fingers danced around your clit, sliding between your slick folds as he played with you and you played with him. Your hand had worked its way beneath the cloth of his boxers to stroke his length slowly, matching his pace with you as you stared into each other’s eyes hungrily, lips parted and chests heaving for air. 

When Levi finally pressed into your clit with both fingers, your back arched and your eyes fluttered shut, pleasure piercing through you. His lips found yours again in another passionate kiss, lips fumbling together as the two of you stroked each other, Levi growing harder in your hand as your fingers trailed from his base to his tip, thumb gently pressing against the head of his cock occasionally. Moans were stifled into the kiss as you parted your lips and allowed his tongue to find yours, each of you needy and writhing in the other’s hand. Levi broke away for air and you gasped out to fill your lungs as well, but your lips found his neck only seconds later and your legs nimbly swathed around his hips to pull him closer. The hand that wasn’t around him trailed up so your fingers could get lost in his hair, a lock of it twirled around your finger as you nipped and suck at the most sensitive spot at Levi’s neck. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, hips bucking into you when your teeth grazed along his flushed skin, the whispered curse only fueling you. 

“Off, please,” you pleaded with him against his neck, referring to the thin fabric still separating your groins. You heard him whine when your hand slipped out of his boxers to tug them down around his knees, letting him kick them off the rest of the way. You also couldn’t help the little whimper that left you when his hand did the same to you, both of you exposed to the other now. 

Levi didn’t waste any time in taking hold of his length and guiding it to your folds, earning a loud moan of pleasure from you as he slid himself along you, tip of his cock pressing teasingly to your clit. There was no need or desire to bother to stifle the needy whine of his name as he rubbed his shaft against you, the pleasure almost overwhelming you when his head ducked down to take a breast into his warm mouth. A string of curses left your lips and you barely registered his free hand moving down as well, only noticing when a finger slipped inside you with no warning. 

Again your back arched and you writhed beneath him, and the peculiar sensation of a finger in you and a cock rubbing your clit, rather than the other way around, had you seeing stars. 

“Fuck, you’re wet,” Levi mumbled against your breast, a string of saliva trailing his lips as he came up for air again. His eyes were half-lidded, clouded with lust, both of you on cloud nine. Your hands kept busy and stroked his skin, both of you showcasing a slight sheen of sweat from the intense heat you’d created in your little cocoon of blankets. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your head as your lips crashed into his again, needy as ever as your hips squirmed and bucked. 

“Levi,” you whined against his mouth, letting him swallow his name. 

“Use your words,” he teased back, adding a second finger to pump into you while his length slipped into your folds. 

But you could barely sound out his name, let alone form a coherent sentence. He knew this was exactly the case and got off on it, leaving you to mewl and whine and writhe under him as you scrambled to get it together. 

“Want you inside of me,” you gasped out finally, bucking your hips up roughly as his fingers curled inside of you. 

Levi’s lips were at your ear in an instant, breath hot as it fanned the side of your face. “I am inside of you.”

“Your cock,” you nearly cried out, legs spread wide and heels dug into the mattress as you tried to find the balance to lift your hips into his. “Want your cock inside of me.” 

And Levi didn’t need to be told twice. His fingers left you in an instant and, before you could protest, he filled you up by slamming into you roughly, already almost to the hilt. Your legs enveloped his waist as a groan scratched out of your throat, nails digging into his upper arms as he waited and stretched you. Both of you swore loudly, hips bucking into each other, and you pressed your forehead to Levi’s and rolled your hips to let him know you wanted him to move. He knew you like the back of his hand, knew what every action meant, knew what you were telling him without having to actually tell him. Just like he knew all of that, he knew exactly what kind of rhythm to fall into, already relentlessly pounding into you once you were adjusted to him. It was slower at first, with Levi putting in the effort to almost completely pull out before pushing back in, over and over, skin slapping against skin as he did so. The erotic sounds from your throat were nonstop now, one moan melting into the next, and Levi’s own noises soon joined with yours as he picked up speed. Your hips met his effortlessly, bodies in sync with one another, the familiarity apparent in the way you just knew each other. 

Sweat slicked your forehead and matted your hair to it, Levi’s appearance mirroring yours, the heat almost unbearable if not for the knowledge of the cold and biting air that threatened to penetrate your bubble. His hips rolled into yours, entire body pressed to yours now with no room for even an inch of space between your skin; you didn’t know where you ended and he began, and you didn’t want to know. Being connected like this, you were a single being, striving for the same jaw-dropping, toe-curling goal. 

Levi gripped one of your thighs to push your knee almost to your chest, changing your position just enough for him to bury himself deeper and hit the spot that made the coil in your stomach tighten instantly. His name left your lips repeatedly, the only thing you remembered, the only thing that mattered in that moment. Levi, Levi, Levi…

He pecked your lips between the little whimpers you gave him, leaving you absolutely breathless, so close to finally reaching the edge. One of his hands forced itself between your colliding hips to give your clit attention, the touch of his fingertips catapulting you closer to your orgasm, unable to resist for much longer. 

“Fuck...Levi...close…” you panted into his mouth, hands alternating between gripping his hair, gripping his shoulders, gripping the sheets. 

“Me too,” he gasped out in a low murmur. His free hand cupped your face to pull you in for another deep kiss while his fingers worked your clit, dancing around it sometimes, and then rubbing it directly, always in those slow, tantalizing circles. He nipped at your lower lip, whispering the word you needed to hear so badly into your parted lips. 

“Come.” 

Between his needy kisses and his fingers and his throbbing cock inside of you, with Levi so unyielding and constant with everything he did, never faltering, it threw you over the edge into an intense orgasm, walls squeezing around him as you cried into his lips that were still smothered into yours. Your thighs pressed into his hips to keep him there inside you and you shuddered in delight when he came only moments later, both of his strong hands grabbing your hips and pinning them down so he could ride his high out, right into you. 

It took several more moments before the two of you could calm down, hips eventually lulling to stillness so he could rest on top of you, nearly putting his whole weight on you. But it felt good, it felt so good to feel him on you, in you, both of you catching your breath in the stuffy enclosure of your blankets. His mouth pressed a final kiss to yours before finding another favorite place to be - at the curve of your neck, to pepper short, endearing pecks to your skin. 

Levi didn’t make any moves to pull out of you so you stayed in that position, reveling in the afterglow of your orgasms, while you stroked his hair and breathed him in, head tilted so he could have full access to the expanse of your neck. 

“I guess you were right,” you whispered with a smile, eyes closed. Levi hummed in question and you giggled, a hand caressing his lower back. “We did need to shed clothes to stay warm.” 

That earned a chuckle out of Levi but he didn’t respond right away. Instead, he continued leaving kisses along your neck, slowly pulling out of you and shifting so he could be at your side instead of on top of you. 

“I’m always right,” he finally said, pulling you into his chest to snuggle, “Just like I’m right about you getting the fuck out of this shitty apartment.” His arm kept itself wrapped around your shoulders even when you swatted his chest, his other arm resting happily at your hip. You traced his chest with your fingertips, legs intertwining as sleep began to overtake you, the exhaustion of sex heavily seeping into your bodies. 

“So you would rather have me on the streets with no home to go back to,” you mumbled jokingly, sleepily, and then snickered when Levi’s scoff fills the air. 

“You’d have a home, brat.” 

You shivered as Levi adjusted the blankets to let some fresh air in, the coldness cracking through at last, but your shivers were easily abated by Levi nuzzling into your hair and pulling you closer, fingertips dancing over your back to soothe you to sleep. 

“Love you,” you mumbled, moving your head so you could press your ear against his chest to hear his steady heartbeat. You were already drifting off, warm and content and blissful, but you didn’t miss the quiet, “Love you, too.” 

[tarosin]

the great adventures of y/n tommy tubbo wilbur and phil - i’ve got a (paintball) gun

this is part 12 to the great adventures series

an: ranboo was possibly in the Uk at this point however I don’t know when this vlog was actually recorded so I’ve decided that he’s still in the us at this moment in time i also didn’t proof read

tubbo stood near you occasionally shooting you with a nerf gun whilst you were filming a cooking video making it rather hard to focus

“you alright there Tubb-ow that fucking hurt”

“let me be in the video”

you rolled your eyes before moving to the side so tubbo could be in frame, earlier on you both went to a butterfly house and since the pair of you would have to get a train tomorrow to go record a vlog with Tommy it made more sense for him to stay at yours for the night. it took a lot longer than expected to film the cooking video as tubbo absolutely destroyed the plan you had for the video after he found out what you were making

“Surely not. you have pizza in the fridge let’s cook that instead”

“tubbo no fans voted on what is make and they chose something from the great depression cookbook it’s not my fault…heh how do you know about the pizza I got it yesterday”

“I made myself feel at home”

eventually, the pair of you finished the recipe unsurprising food from the great depression didn’t taste great so you put it in the bin whilst tubbo put the pizza in the oven. the rest of the night was surprisingly chill compared to earlier on when filming (probably because after you both had eaten you were exhausted and had a long day ahead of you) the pair of you created a song together which would never see the light of day as it was a mess but nonetheless it was a memory you would never forget, you asked your parents to take some pictures of you both so you could add them to your scrapbook you ended the night by teaching tubbo how to create a scrapbook.

at 8 am your alarm went off at 8:30 you made it to the train station a few hours later you finally arrived at your destination

“what are we doing today tubs”

“I have no idea but tommys over there with Phil and will”

tubbo dragged you over to the three of them where you were met with Tommy holding a paintball gun whilst yelling that he has a gun and that it’s ‘gun time’ tubbo went to go get the pair of you a paintball gun with the others whilst you offered to help Tommy continue the introduction

“y/n you’re going to be with tubbo and Phil sorry you can’t be on the winners team with me and will”

“oh no how will I ever survive, you seem rather confident that you’re going to win so let’s make I deal if I win I get to pick the next vlog if you win you can pick the next vlog for my channel”

“have fun facing your fears in your next vlog y/n as I’m going to win”

“sure thing tom however I never lose so have fun at the trampoline park”

tubbo ran up to you as you finished your sentence and handed you the gun that’s when you split off into two teams and made your way to start the game

“you both ready”

“I'm going to be shot several times the answer is no”

“I’ll protect you y/n”

you laughed shaking your head as much as you adored tubbo there’s no way he’d be the one protecting you in paintball you stood picking up rocks putting them in your pocket not realising the game had started until tubbo hit you with a paintball

“OI DICKHEAD THE GAMES STARTED”

“WERE ON THE SAME TEAM HAVE YOU CONSIDERED SHOUTING THAT THE GAME STARTED”

you ran straight to the bunker leaving tubbo and Phil behind simply because you had already been shot and it hurt like hell, you managed to hit Tommy a few times and occasionally was able to hit will. it didn’t take long for tubbo to catch up to you

“oh hello tubso”

“hi y/n. OW WHY DID YOU SHOOT ME”

“giving you a taste of your own medicine”

“I'm telling Phil”

tubbo found one of the grenades on the floor throwing it towards the hiding spot Tommy and will were in dragging you through the now colourful smoke which resulted in Tommy shooting you both with paintballs several times as will encouraged him to shoot wildly into the smoke

“phillllll tubbo used me as a human shield my body hurts where are they I’m getting revenge”

“tubbo…maybe don’t use y/n as a shield “

you stood with tubbo as Phil shot a paintball towards Tommy you assumed he hit him as you heard Tommy shout in pain and tubbo laughing next to you, you noticed as you continued walking to hide, tubbo was picking up the grenades putting them in his pocket

“I have rocks in my pocket tubs if I ever run out of paintballs I’m just going to throw the rocks it’ll probably hurt less too”

“y/n don’t encourage tubbo to throw rocks at people”

“quick over there we can team up against Tommy”

and that’s exactly what you and Phil did god knows where tubbo went however it did allow you to secure a win.

not long later the second round began however this time it was just you and Phil

“where the fuck is tubbo”

“I can’t believe they took tubbo he’s the best of us and they knew it”

“they took my tubbo I’m getting revenge also rude I’m pretty damn good with a gun”

you both ran to the next hiding spot creating a plan to get your best friend back and hopefully win the game, you ended up hearing tubbo shouting in the distance, you and Phil agreed you'd run first probably getting their attention and Phil would follow about a minute later

“hang tight tubso I’m coming for you”

the plan worked you successfully made your way to where tubbo was guaranteed you got hit with paintballs a lot but you also managed to get some good hits back as did Phil. as soon as Phil made the grenade go off you quickly climbed up the steps and made your way to tubbo whilst hitting the others with paintballs whilst Phil made his way up after you

“I ran out of paintballs tubbo can I borrow your gun”

“we surrender we surrender”

“Phil…y/n you saved me”

“I am in pain”

it was now time for the third round

“I've played capture the wool in hypixel don’t worry guys I’ve got this”

“y/n you lost every game”

“tubbo didn’t you get captured for the entirety of the last game…hmm”

“will you two stop and just run to the tower”

tubbo ran straight to the tower but you decided to ‘accidentally shoot tubbo’

“Y/N”

“SORRY I WAS UM JUST TESTING IF MY PAINTBALL GUN WORKED YOU JUST HAPPENED TO BE IN THE WAY”

once in the tower you and tubbo aimlessly shot at the others while Phil left to go capture Tommy and wills flag

“so tubbo how’s your day”

“not too great bossman I got captured, shot, betrayed by my so-called best friend”

“betrayed…you’re so dramatic”

“I'm leaving”

“I’m not defending the flag then”

you laughed as tubbo left the tower standing next to Phil coming up with a new plan

“tell me you didn’t leave y/n to defend the flag”

“I CAN STILL HEAR YOU BOTH”

tubbo and Phil ran to attempt to capture their flag whilst you stood defending the flag, you put up a decent fight getting strong hits on Tommy however he was able to capture the flag before Phil or tubbo could capture their flag, you continued to hit Tommy several times as he ran back to his team’s tower, however, in the end, he was able to make it back scoring a win for his team

“don’t even think about blaming me you two”

it was now time for the final, you had one aim and one aim only…defend the briefcase

“oh these little shits”

you and tubbo looked at each other before nervously laughing you all had been shot enough and honestly you were all in pain you just wanted to win and get this over with.

“We have 10 minutes guys we’re fine”

“y/n I admire your optimism”

“I could be brutally honest and tell you both that we’re probably going to lose if we don’t come up with a plan”

and with that the three of you started creating a plan which wouldn’t be used as you were going to end up staying close to tubbo, you all started pretty strong you and tubbo stayed together the entire game giving the pair of you extra strength compared to the others as you worked together. you and tubbo left Phil to do his own thing mainly because you had forgotten the plan you created earlier.

“y/n here’s the new plan wherever I go you go and we have to defend each other”

“hey tubbo look I found a shield…you stay behind me and tell me where to go as I can cover us both”

you ended up losing that round but it doesn’t matter you had faith you would win the next round

“so all we have to do is defend the briefcase”

“y/n stay with me”

you and tubbo proved to be a great threat as tubbo would point to where either will or Tommy was and the pair of you would shoot at them whilst Phil would aim for the other person

“good shot Phil”

“thanks y/n”

you were all doing a pretty good job of defending the briefcase you would often whisper to tubbo that you were convinced they were about to surrender

“surely not”

“tubbo look at them they’re in pain they’re going to surrender I bet £10 and being the first to hug ranboo at the airport that they’ll surrender deal?”

“deal”

you all aimed at will scoring many hits practically encouraging them to surrender, Tommy eventually got wills gun and started aiming at you all mostly hitting you and Phil making tubbo laugh

“I hate you right now tubbo”

“sure thing bossman”

you noticed Tommy was in serious pain and started feeling bad for him however you pushed that feeling aside as you really wanted to win every bet you had made earlier so you continued to aim for your best friends

“YOU WIN”

you looked at Phil who was clearly proud of his team before looking at tubbo before tackling him into a hug

“we fucking won I told you they’d surrender you now owe me £10”

“I'll give it to you when we go to pick up ranboo”

after putting everything away you made your way to Tommy to check that he was okay

“you okay Tommy? you did great, that was a pretty smart tactic during capture the flag”

Tommy pulled you into a side hug as he thanked you before congratulating you on your win

“you and tubbo best make your way to the train station before you miss the train, call me when you're at tubbos”

“will do see you soon!!”

“see you after you’ve finished isolating”

“…heh”

tubbo walked over to you both laughing as he noticed everyone but you knew what was happening from tomorrow

“your parents dropped off a bag of clothes etc at mine so we can just get the train straight to my house we should probably sleep earlier as we have to get up ridiculously early tomorrow to pick ranboo up from the airport”

time flew by rather quickly as before you knew it you were sat on a bench with tubbo waiting to meet ranboo

“tubbo ranboo just sent me a text he's here”

taglist:

@fuzzycloudsz @wtfwriter @bearytime @milkydisaster @dumb-chaotic-bi-energy @uselesssapphickitten @l0ver0fj0y @etheriaaly @xx-smiley-xx @hawarun @kylobensgirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @reverse-iak @renleicrashed @augustine-is-joy @c1loudee

[alldayangst]

lovebug (Tom Holland)

GIF is from gaybuckybarnes here on Tumblr. You can access my masterlist here. This was written for @worldoftom’s lolbrosgetsicktoochallenge. The prompt I had was: ‘Tom self diagnoses himself as sick. He’s got all the symptoms. He’s speechless, over the edge and just breathless. He never thought he’d get hit by the ‘love-bug’ again’. Inspired by the song Lovebug by Jonas Brothers!

A/N: Y/N is an assistant director on Cherry in this fic. This has a lot of Cherry (the movie) references but most are explained if you haven’t seen the film. Such as, it was filmed in Cleveland and Morocco, directed by Joe and Anthony Russo. Some scenes in this fic borrow from the movie & I’ve linked clips from the film if you’d like to listen/watch along. WC: 4K.

“Yeah, Mum, I’ve just got like the sorest throat at the moment.” Nikki’s picture cuts in and out on a scrambled screen on the South side of London, her husband’s hand periodically reaching out for her, rubbing her shoulder, then leaving the frame almost as quickly as it came in. Even through the low quality, the pixels dashing about his screen, Tom can make out his mother’s brows knitting together and can’t remove the feeling of utter guilt when he sees her grow redder and redder out of anger, concern and confusion for her son. “But I’ve got Harry here with me.” Harry waves from behind his brother, his trusty mug swapped for a Phoenix Coffee Cup in his spare hand, just to get a taste of the States.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He barely drinks coffee on the other side of the pond, and would bet good money that an at home PG Tips would beat America’s swankiest coffee joint any day. But now, he’s betrayed his usual routine and his body’s all out of whack and his throat is hoarse, he’s breathless even at times.

Harry shoots his mum a half smile to comfort her, but he doesn’t know what it's like to be a mother, and his and Tom’s mouth both form an ‘O’ when Nikki begins to type so hard her screen jolts and Tom swears she’s put a dent in it. “You know what? I’m going to give them a piece of my mind, Tom! They’re overworking you!” Nikki looks intensely to find her baby boy in drug-addled eyes and his jungle of curls on his newly shaven head. She guesses it becomes easier when Tom pushes his face halfway into the screen and pleads like the child he’ll always be to her, “Please, please Mum! I can’t have any days off. Under any circumstances, I need to finish this film!”

Tom turns to his younger brother for help. “Tell her, Harry!”

And as little brothers do best, Harry spills the beans as soon as Tom’s phone is in clutch. “Tom’s fallen in love with the first A.D., Y/N.”

Nikki immediately loses her frown, knowing how love can knock Tom off his feet and blow all the wind out of him. Tom’s father, Dom, re-enters the frame to match Nikki’s grin. He never misses an opportunity to tease. “Oo, caught a case of the love bug, have you?”

Harry has to whip the phone around to dodge Tom’s protesting arms reaching for it again. “Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot.” Harry mutters. Tom’s family doesn’t budge any further, knowing how bad Tom was hurt after his last relationship. They weren't sure when the love bug would come back to bite him again. So after they all shared a knowing look, Harry handed Tom his phone back. “I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.”

It all started five weeks ago. Tom, at 24, was beginning to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound.  Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour.

He’d say, perhaps, you were the closest thing to the real deal. The problem was, he didn’t know if you liked him back.

“When life was beginning, I saw -”

“When life was-”

“When life was be-fuck!”

“When life was beginning, I saw you.”

Tom could make a picture book out of the day he first met you. He remembers how your hair looked that day, the speckles of genuinity in your eyes, how your ear-to-ear smile seemed to be a mirror because every time he saw you from then on, he brandished the same beam. He recalls how his eyes went low as he dropped his script to his lap and stared at your lips, so soft and kissable, as you repeated his words back to him: “When life was beginning, I saw you.” Then you chuckled softly as Tom waited patiently for his head and his heart to return to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m dyslexic. I have a bit of trouble reading.”

“It’s cool, I'm the first A.D. That’s what I’m here for.”

You rubbed your hands on the back of your trousers, your mic jostling in your back pocket as you attempted to rid yourself of your nervous, sweaty palms.

“I’m Y/N.” You reached out for a shake only for Tom to cough loudly into his own hand. 

“Fuck! I’m so sorry! That wasn’t me trying to get out of your handshake. I- I-.” Tom looked at his hand for it had failed him for the first time in his life. His hand that had helped him up during handstands, being his crutch through cartwheels and backflips, but had decidedly run out of luck to be on the receiving end of Tom’s monstrous cough impending a handshake with someone his eyes just couldn’t look away from.

You laugh again. Your laugh sounds like melody, Tom muses. Awestruck, he wishes he could play it again, repeat it like a radio hit and never wash himself of the feeling he got when he heard your laugh for the first time.

“It’s all good. I’ll see you around.” You disappear from his trailer, likely on a venture to your own, when Joe and Anthony block his view of you walking away.

Anthony and Joe take on the ghost of you in Tom’s room, “Tom! The man, the myth and the legend!” Joe comes behind him to rub his newly hairless head. “We’re so glad you agreed to do this movie!” 

“Bummed that you’re not coming to the Browns game tonight, though.” Anthony remarks, throwing a football at Joe who sets it in his lap.

“Harry and I, we’re British, mate. We play football with our feet.”

Joe doesn’t know it then, but his next words are the beginning of the end for Tom. He rubs on his football and looks Tom in his eye when he poses, “It’s a shame ‘cause the whole crew’s going. First day of filming celebrations.”

“The whole crew?”

Anthony mumbles an ‘mhm’ as he picks up a framed photo of Tom and RDJ sitting pretty on Tom’s dresser, posing like father and son.

Tom’s usually self assured when he’s on set, but he’s hesitant to say this next improvised line. His voice trails off as he speaks. “Including Y/N?”

“Y/N?” Joe queries, with a smile that’s half scary and half comforting, and the butterflies in Tom’s stomach are begging him not to fuck this up and suddenly every second a word is not spoken feels like hours have passed and he might have ruined things before they’ve even started, gosh he just met you and-

Tom tries to play it cool. “I don’t- they’re cool.” Tom coughs again. “I mean, I don’t really know them but Y/N seems cool I guess.”

Anthony and Joe smile at each other, scrambling to exit. “Whole crew’s going, baby!” Joe beams.

“Please don’t tell Y/N I asked!” Tom shouts before they’re out of earshot.

“Yeah, yeah. Anthony, go long!”

A few hours later, Tom was sitting next to an unamused Harry, you on his left, foam fingers pointing every which way. 

“Are you a big football fan?” Tom asked, imposter syndrome creeping up on him. He had the best seats in the house, but knew not a thing about this sport he’d come down to watch. Meanwhile, crew and crowd alike sat themselves around you guys, cheering leaving throats raw for days to come and a tussle for a foam finger between Joe and Anthony leading to hundreds of sugary popcorn shells scattered on the stadium floor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t ever turn down the option to look at Odell Beckham Jr. Are you?” you replied.

Tom looked over to his brother who sat with his chin in his hand, lips pulled into a thin straight line as his rusty curls were blown about from the wind of brown and orange flags flown from fans behind him. “We could learn to love it.” Tom flashed you a toothy grin, unsure of where to guide the conversation next. He knew for sure that he wanted to keep talking to you, but his ego began putting up a fight, eager to show himself off if you’d have him in any way. Tom sighed. “Truth is, we have no fucking clue what’s going on.” Tom could hear the commentary about a player reaching the end zone, but they were all just words that went into one ear then came straight out of the other.

You giggled. “I have no idea either. We could make up our own rules if you want.”

Tom likes the way you think. He also likes the way you speak. He loves the way you laugh.

“You have a beautiful laugh.” 

You covered your mouth. “Oh, fuck, I hate my laugh!”

“I’d make you laugh a thousand times if I could.”

You pointed to the jumbo screen as Mayfield made a touchdown, unable to stop laughing from sheer nerves as you felt Tom’s hot, burning haze on you. An advert for Cleveland’s Own Phoenix Coffee flashed on the screen as you spoke. “We’ll make our own rules. Every time we see the quarterback pick up the ball, we’ll cheer.”

By the end of the night, Tom is speechless, breathless and over the edge of his chair in faux excitement and anticipation of the quarterback receiving the ball once again. 

“Another coffee?” The service worker asked.

“Yes please!” You and Tom both say in unison, pumped as the quarterback began circling around to collect the ball in open arms.

The footage of the game is cut abruptly as the camera points to a confused, solo Harry; Anthony and Joe are seen at the edge of the frame whispering suggestively and pointing towards Tom, the camera eventually capturing the superstar who looks back up at his own reflection. Poorly green screened hearts flood the screen and the camera pans to include you in the frame too. Tom looks on in horror when he realises what’s going on and how it could be too late, and turns to you.

“I promise I didn’t know this was going on. We don’t have to.” Tom panics. 

You hear him loud and clear, that you don’t have to, but your heart and eleven thousand people are telling you to kiss him otherwise. “Oh well. We should just do it.” you murmur, the bright pink ‘KISSCAM’ logo flashing in and out.

It doesn’t take more than a moment for the gap between you and Tom to close, for your face to get lost behind his, his lips pressing against yours, eyes closed, trusting each other to share your air. This was probably the first thing that night worth cheering for, howls and whistles erupting around you. 

Tom doesn’t understand American football, but he thinks that the best seats in the house could be anywhere next to you.

Harry’s on the phone to his twin brother, Sam, when you and the rest of the crew make it back to the hotel later on. “-Yeah, and Tom spent half the night with the first A.D. cheering and screaming at fuck all.”

The Cleveland Browns lost that night, but Tom remains none the wiser. He stood in the doorway as Harry continued to relay his day to Sam. “Oh, and Tom, Mum said to give her a call, eavesdropper.” He flicks Tom’s reddening nose before closing the door.

A week and a half later, Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He never has the time anymore to attend ‘real’ football games back home, and he actually understands the game back in Britain. But now, he’s cheered at almost every given opportunity to impress you stupidly, and his chest and voice is suffering as a consequence.

You and Tom walked onto set with your pinkies intertwined, growing closer and closer by the minute, but Tom doesn’t miss how Ciara’s boyfriend visits set every day for her, doesn’t miss how they rub their nose together in this lovey-dovey affection he wishes he could bestow upon you.

The scene wasn’t working.

The crew was beginning to grow restless and Tom silently became more frustrated as the minutes went by and he was unable to get his lines right. He remembers how a week ago, it felt so easy. You were there to correct him when he stumbled upon his lines and you picked him up so effortlessly, a twinkling smile on your face. But then? Then you were different. Your eyes were scrunched up behind the lens of the camera and you were mumbling something to Anthony about how the sun was due to go down in Ohio soon so you needed to hurry along.

“Alright.” you announced. “Take five!”

And Tom was thankful, Ciara perched upon a swing for the scene they were filming, Tom dwindling the rope of the swing under his finger as her boyfriend approached her once again. “Hey dude, are you okay?”

Ciara looked at Tom with the same concern, hands finding home in her boyfriend’s nest of hair. “Yeah, Tom, are you okay?”

Tom coughed into his hand. “Yeah, guys, I’m good.”

“I think you’re coming down with a nasty cough.” Ciara muttered.

“Yeah. It’s you guys. You’re too cute. You make me sick.” Tom laughed humourlessly for a short while, wanting to be that adorable with someone, maybe not anyone, maybe just with you someday. Then Tom shook his head, a bitter feeling in his throat as he yawned. “It’s the Browns game. I was yelling and screaming every time a quarterback got the ball. Of course I’m a little unwell. I’ll be good as new in a few days though.”

Ciara already knew Tom wasn’t playing a man with the healthiest of habits, but she worried that Tom was getting this bad this early. “Maybe you should talk to the first A.D. about reducing shoot days from five to three?”

Tom didn’t like the prospect of seeing you less. “Yeah.” Harry had a clapperboard between his hands, leading Tom’s eyebrows to furrow as his brother yelled something about it being take 13. “Maybe.” 

Harry resumed to a new position in your chair, with you taking Harry’s place right across from Tom, a coffee waiting for him when the scene was over like Harry always did. Ciara’s boyfriend left the frame to watch supportively on the sidelines.

“Lights. Camera. Action!” Anthony called. “Time is money, you guys! Let’s try to get this one right this time.” 

They’d been over this already twelve times today.

“Hey, I’m really happy you’re here.”

Ciara read her line back. “Why’s that?” 

Tom could hear whispers of the crew, the sound guy glaring at them in case they were picked up in the scene, and he knew it had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t for some reason get the next line out all day. And that reason, unbeknownst to everyone, was because Tom couldn’t say something he didn’t mean - feeling like his heart was locked in a cage for which only you had the key. He looked past his co-star, Ciara, and up at you; feeling so close but you were far away, leaving him all day without anything to say. And overcoming his speechlessness and breathlessness, even in just that moment, he ran his hand over the rope to say, “Cause I like you. A lot.”

Ciara and the rest of the crew broke into a wide smile once Tom finally spoke his next line, but the only person Tom was focused on was you, who wasn’t smiling, but mouthing his words back to him.

Ciara breathed, “Shut up.”

And Tom’s sure to look you in the eye when he says, “I really do.”

When the filming for the day is said and done, Tom makes a beeline for you across the greenery. You hand over his coffee to him, “It’s a little cold now, but a warm hand is holding it.”

Tom quirks an eyebrow. “Are you inviting me to hold your hand?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“You swapped jobs with Harry, I saw.”

“Yeah, well. It’s good he gets to grips with the job now. You know, in case anything changes.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket. “I should probably give you my number. In case anything changes.”

“Oh no, yeah. Your number is?”

“216-XXX-XXX. Speaking of changes, I heard you’re trying to get your days reduced.”

“You were eavesdropping?” Tom looks at your face that bears no trace of guilt. “You’re just like me!” He pulls you close.

“Tom, if what happened today is because you’re working too much, I’m happy to reduce your time.”

“Nah, nah.” Tom sniffles, rubbing his nose on a jacket probably worth more than your life. “I’m just a bit sick, s’all. I’ll be fine.”

Two weeks pass and Tom’s no better. With the Cleveland game nearly a month ago, Tom has nothing to blame and as first A.D., you’re obligated to reduce his hours. Tom’s on the phone with his mother when you approach his trailer. 

“Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot. I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.” 

You’re so quick to skip happily back to your trailer that you miss Harry calling out to his brother, he’s his protector now that his mother was countries apart. “Tom?” Harry starts.

Tom mumbles an ‘mhm’, hoping Harry would make it quick as he sees you FaceTiming him. If only his mother could see him like this. He’d get to call her tomorrow and tell her he’d called you for the first time yesterday, he could hardly wait to utter, 'I've finally found the missing part of me’. Harry sighs as the FaceTime ringing is relentless. Tom’s eyebrows threaten to meet in the middle of his face as he clutches onto his phone.

“Tom.” Harry begins. “Y/N is giving up assistant director.”

Tom’s really not sure where Harry gets the source of his information from, but he’s sure this isn’t true. He thinks you’d tell him before his brother if you were leaving the film behind, leaving him behind.

The film is due to move filming to Morocco soon, and Tom’s well aware that not all film crew joins them when production moves abroad, but to Tom, you’re an extension of this movie universe. And Tom refuses to leave the memories of you in this filming cycle. “How’d you know?”

“I’m taking over.” Tom’s screen lights up with the glow of your call, and as bright as it is, as bright as you are, as bright as your smile surely is on the other end of the phone call, Tom’s in his deepest darkest feelings wondering how he fooled himself into thinking romance could go right for him this time. 

He’s going to Morocco. You’re not. You’re funny, smart, promising, beautiful. You’ll find someone good for you, a better pair by the time he’s back.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t work out, man.” Tom sulks in his bed, the light from your constant calls bleeding through his bed sheets. “I just wanted to warn you.” Tom nods, screaming into his pillow. Harry decides that’s his cue to leave, a glimmer of light from outside seeping through the crack of the door as Harry escorts himself. Tom musters all his might and courage to reluctantly answer your phone, the ear-to-ear grin he knows so well greeting him once again.

Suddenly, he forgot how to speak. Hopeless, breathless, couldn’t you see that?

“Tom?” You call out his name a few times before cutting straight to the point. “Do you like me?”

Tom shifts slightly but not enough to show that he’s alarmed. “Huh? Yeah, I like you.”

He sits up, but doesn’t reciprocate the outrageous smile you wear like a heart on your sleeve. Tom’s eyes are sunken, dark circles forming under his eyes where he and his disturbed character become one. You suddenly remember why you shouldn’t have run away so fast, perhaps Tom was overworking himself. He continues, “But I’m an emotionally unavailable hopeless romantic. So I wouldn’t waste your time on me.”

Tom can’t help the hurt in his heart when he sees your smile drop so suddenly, knowing it was earnest. “Tom, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, life is unfair. And I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead. We wouldn’t work out. And I like our friendship now. We should stay that way.”

You’re not convincing when you nod rapidly, not letting Tom see your face as you play with your fingers to avoid his gaze. “Yeah, I agree.” You’re much less convincing when the last frame Tom caught of you was a shot of tears dripping down your face, as three rings followed you. Tom’s screen went black in your absence, and Tom falls asleep with eyes even redder from crying, and he wonders when he’s gonna shake this sickness.

It’d been a few days since Tom had got his shots to allow him to go to Morocco. He sat opposite the doctor on set, a coffee cup placed on the desk between him.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. Shots always have their side effects, and he’d taken multiple shots in one day. And now, he specifically asked for you to hold his hand during the process, Harry branded in a glinting jaw-drop, only for you to leave directly after. 

“I’m speechless, constantly feeling over the edge, breathless.” Tom explains his symptoms to the doctor. “At first I thought it was because of that stupid football game, then all the coffee I’m drinking, now I don’t know if it’s the shots. I feel like shit, doc.”

“I know exactly what you’re dealing with.”

“What?”

“Lovebug.”

Tom stares at the doctor in utter bewilderment. “You figured that out based on my symptoms?”

“I figured that out based on the puppy dog eyes you gave for your first A.D. when they left without a word.” The doctor begins to laugh softly, but Tom is unamused. How is he supposed to shake this illness after completely ruining your relationship? How is he supposed to mend your bond after talking so recklessly, so emotionally? “Tom, I’m not here to be a fairy godmother, I’m being strictly medical. At a certain point, what you feel in your mind affects your body. So I prescribe that you talk to Y/N and say everything you need to say.”

And while that seemed easy enough, Tom’s ego was at work again, and Tom was feeling far too bruised and wounded to speak to you first. Surely if you cared enough, if you liked him back, if you were willing to be distanced, you would reach out first.

It seems Tom’s pride had forgotten that you already did.

“I heard that this is the exact shit that happened in Cleveland, and he couldn’t get the line out.” Tom hears the whisperings from behind the camera, the amount of familiar faces in the crew dwindling after the change in location. He doesn’t respond. He waits for someone to take five. And when no one throws him a bone, he asks Harry to.

“Alright, everyone take five.”

“Someone get this kid a fucking coffee, he’s always on edge.” Joe instructs.

“And you think giving a kid in twenties coffee is taking him off edge?” Anthony chuckles.

Tom doesn’t care whether or not he gets the coffee, rocking side to side. He’s got all the motion for this role, but he feels nothing. All he felt was for you.

“Here.” Harry sets a Moroccan mint tea down next to Tom, hoping it would calm him down. When Tom takes a few sips, the look in his eyes is less pleading, and everyone’s ready to rumble, this being the last scene of the day.

Harry feeds Tom the line. “Baby, are you seeing bad things?” Tom is seeing bad things. A life without love, a life without you. Unable to contain it all, Tom turns his frustration into laughter. “Why are you calling me baby for, man?” Tom has this ear-to-ear grin but even he feels it's not as innocent, as genuine as yours. He never knew a smile so wide could be so full of pain.

“I have an idea.” Harry saunters off to collect his phone. “Don’t stop rolling the cameras.”

When Harry comes back, there’s sounds of shifting erupting from his phone. “Hi, Tom.” 

Tom didn’t know it would be so bittersweet to hear your voice again. He wasn’t sure if he should put walls up again or if twice was the charm. Even if you worked out in the short term, whose to say Tom wouldn’t get hurt again? And Tom wouldn’t want to hurt you.

“Are they taking good care of you out there? I don’t think I took good care of you.” Tom doesn’t say anything on the other side of the line, so you continue. “I’m not a good A.D. if you’re always sick and tired, and I didn’t want to see you any less, which was selfish of me, so I didn’t change your schedule.” You sigh as you admit why you left. “When you asked, though, I swear I was gonna do it, but then I heard you liked me, and I got carried away. I had to remove myself from the situation to do what’s best for you. Do you understand me? I did it for you.”

“I, uh, I got a diagnosis.” Tom stumbles.

“Oh my gosh, are you seriously sick?”

“I’m speechless. Over the edge, breathless.” Tom laughed dryly, finally feeling like he can choose an ending.

“What did they say it was?”

“Lovebug.” Harry smiles softly at his brother.

Your laugh is like nectar entering Tom’s ear.

“I might just love you way too much, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you’re doin’ okay?” Tom tries his best not to sound dejected that you didn’t say it back, knowing he’s already felt the brunt of this heartache already.

“I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too. I love you.” Joe stops recording, and Harry lowly whispers ‘take.fucking.five.’ as he and the crew creep away from Tom’s new found love scene. 

“Anthony, can I borrow your phone?” Harry begins to type Nikki’s number as soon as Anthony gives over the phone. “Mum, Tom just told the first A.D. he’s in love with them so guess who’s out of a job?”

Tom knows why he’s sick. He used to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound. Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour. But now, Tom has found you.

[demonicheadcanons]

Can I get the brothers reacting to finding MCs sketchbook and it’s filled with drawings of the demon who picked it up? All of them are masterpieces and some are angsty or sad, others happy, some just them doing mundane things. When confronted, MC just says “Of course I draw you all the time, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. You’re my muse.” Thank you in advance, if it’s too complicated you can skip.

AN: This cute prompt has been sitting in my inbox for far too long. Thanks for sending this in Nonny <3 I love this idea. I tried to keep each scenario short so I could get this done quickly, as you’ve waited long enough for it. Tried is the key word here ;u;

You’re maybe already dating the boys in these? Or very close? They’re not explicitly romantic but have some affection. I also didn’t make the MC say these exact words, or even anything at all in some of these prompts, but the general feeling is still there. I hope that’s alright!

Lucifer

You left the book behind when studying together, rushing off to meet up with Mammon after you realised you were late and would hear hell for it. He notices it sometime later, too busy relishing on even the short period of time he’d gotten to spend alone with you in relative peace.

He picks it up and, curious, with no worries that you might not really want him to look through it, he flips it open to the first page. He realises what it is right away, and continues to flip through the pages until he gets to a drawing of him. Its such a perfect represention of the moment that he can recall exactly when you must’ve drawn this.

You’d come into his room to have a break from all the noise in the rest of the house, and you had laid on your stomach on his bed and worked away at something as he went through paperwork at his desk. He’d wanted to ask you, at the time, what had you so focused, but he hadn’t wanted to ruin the sight.

He continues to flip through the pages, and frowns slightly for every drawing he sees of one of his brothers, but his lips twitch up every time there’s even a simple doodle of him. He counts, unconsciously, and realises you’ve drawn him more than anyone else. Pride swells in his chest, so very familiar and not at the same time.

He hears the tapping at his door and calls out, immediately, for you to come in. He knows that knock, after all, and you’re one of the few members of the house that he wouldn’t hear coming down the corridor. He leans against the front of his desk, holding your book open in front of him, not bothering to hide the fact that he’d looked through it.

The particular sketch he’s looking at is one where you must’ve been close - you’ve detailed in every long, delicate eyelash, his hair falling in front of his face and his lips slightly parted, only the faintest frown on his face as he focuses hard on his work. He smiles as he tips the book forward, watching as your eyes are drawn to it. To his surprise, you only smile, relieved, raising a hand to your chest.

“Thank goodness, I did leave it here after all.”

You walk over and hop up onto his desk, leaning towards him as you try to see which sketch he’s looking at. He slouches a little more to make you comfortable and shows the sketch.

“You’ve drawn me a lot,” he comments.

“Of course. You’re beautiful, how could I resist?”

He presses a kiss to your temple and rests his head against yours, smiling. He doesn’t often like people commenting on his appearance - he was confident enough about it, knew how he looked, but he didn’t need to hear about it all the time. Still, from you, it didn’t hurt. Especially not if you felt inspired enough by it to draw him.

.

[[Other brothers are under the read more]]

Mammon

Mammon had burst into your room and you weren’t there. Frustrated by your absence and unsure of when to expect you back, he decides to pick through your stuff. He wasn’t going to steal any of it - he’d been called out by Beel about that, before, and whilst he’d denied it at the time he knew it was true. He’d much rather steal something for you than from you.

The book is open on your desk to a page full of mindless doodles. It piques his curiosity, and he grabs it and sits down, kicking his feet up on top of your desk. It wasn’t like you were there to tell him not to, and you’d left without telling him where you were going so he was going to do whatever he wanted until you got back.

He flicks back to the start of the book, and honestly his first thoughts are about how you could easily sell these drawings for a lot of Grimm. Sketches of the Devildom, of flowers and creatures you couldn’t find in the human realm, of how the Devildom looked all lit up with the moon overhead, from the highest balcony in the RAD building. He’s in awe, mouth a faint ‘o’ shape as he continues to turn page by page.

The first drawing of him makes him freeze up. He was a model, Mammon knew he must be handsome. But he’d never felt it like he did now. In the drawing, he’s sitting on the floor, cushion in his lap as he plays some game on a controller. His expression is somewhere between frustrated and delighted, his hair fluffy and messy because he’d been running his hands through it.

He remembers - you’d been having trouble adapting to the Devildom so he stole- borrowed a console from Levi, but you were too tired to play. He played anyway, hoping that at least watching him would distract you enough, and to convince himself that he was in part doing it for him too and not to entertain some random human.

You walk in and he slams the book shut, but its too late - you’ve seen him holding it. You don’t seem mad about that, though, and instead glare at how he has his feet up on your desk. He adjusts quickly, fumbling as he tries to put on his confident act, walking over to you as he waves the sketchbook in the air.

“What’s this, then? You’ve been drawing me without asking me first?” he asks, teasing lilt falling flat in his voice. His face feels far too warm, as it often does when he’s around you.

“I couldn’t help it. You’re so pretty I just had to.” You shrug, nonchalant. You swipe the book from his hand and sit on your bed, tapping the space beside you. “How far in did you get?”

Mammon pouts as he goes to sit beside you. “Not far.” As he sits beside you, he grabs your sides and pulls you to lay down, holding the sketchbook open up in the air. He’s desperate for some attention right now, but he wanted to keep looking at your art. “Let’s look through the rest together.”

.

Leviathan

Levi was flustered. You’d been spending time in his room, and he loved your presence but it took him so long to get used to it each time that you stopped in to hang out with him. You’d brought the book you always had with you, and were working away on something, laying on your stomach on the floor with a Ruri-chan plushie in one arm.

He fumbles with his controller and sighs as he misses yet another jump in the game he was trying hard to distract himself with. Every time he glances over, he wants to ask what you’re doing, why you’re here with him when you could easily do your work elsewhere or with any of his brothers, if you were really happy to just sit in his presence like this. His voice dies in his throat and his face flushes when he catches sight of you, so he never does get to ask.

He’d messed up one too many times and was starting to get frustrated when he glanced over and realised you were looking at him, too. Heat floods into his face, and his frustrations die before he can even mumble out his signature ‘this is so unfair’. You smile, going back to your work before dropping your pencil. You wiggle around until you’re sitting, cross-legged, and hold out your sketchbook.

It was a drawing. You’d been drawing, and you’d been drawing him. Levi leans closer hesitantly, wanting to get a better look at it, trying not to think about how giddy and anxious your proud smile made him feel. He works up the courage to take the book out of your hands and looks over the drawing. It takes a long time before he can say anything, too busy focusing on all the little details - how his face is scrunched up from frustration and concentration, how his headphone cord is coiled around his fingers from when he’d been playing with it and hadn’t untangled it fully, how his head was tilted to stop his hair from fully falling in front of his eyes.

“You... its really good, but, I don’t... I’m not this handsome,” he mumbles, face bright red, and he flinches when you laugh.

“You are. More-so, actually, but its hard to capture from this distance.”

Levi can’t respond, just swallows. You sigh, something fond in it, and walk on your knees until you can fall against his side, cuddling up to the Ruri-chan plushie.

“Look through the other drawings. I only draw what I find beautiful. That’s why I drew you.”

His smile is faint, but its enough. He’s hearing your words, even if they’re hard to process for him. He relaxes and flips back to the front page, ready to look at the rest of your work with you.

.

Satan

Books were commonplace in his room. They were part of the furniture - quite literally, as they were piled up everywhere, even on top of his bed, although he’d made an effort to stop putting them there so long as you were spending time with him, so that you had somewhere comfortable to sit or lay whilst you were reading.

And yet, he always noticed when one was out of place, or when a new book had joined his collection without his knowing. Sometimes this happened because his brothers had found something interesting but weren’t willing to say aloud that it had reminded them of him, or that they bought it because he might enjoy it, so they’d simply popped into his room and added it to a stack. It was normal at this point.

That’s why he didn’t question it when there was a new book left on his bed, and when he didn’t hesitate to lay down and open it up, curious as to what story one of his brothers had left for him this time. Instead, he’s met with drawings. Amazing drawings of the Devildom, of his brothers... and of him.

There are notes, as well, few and far between, that allow him to place this as being your book. He knew that scrawl. He felt guilty to look through your sketchbook without your permission, but now that he’d already opened it, he was too curious to leave it be. He’d be honest about it later and deal with the consequences then, or joke about how you’d been drawing him without his permission so you were equal now.

The drawings were beautiful, more detailed that he’d seen for casual doodles left in a book without being shown to the subjects in them. He takes his time to look over each page carefully, each drawing filling his heart with something foreign, sweet and sticky like berry pie. He spends extra time focusing on each drawing of himself, wonders how and why you’d made him look so soft. It was hard for him to get portraits done as his presence could invoke anger in others and leave harsh and angry lines and brush strokes on the canvas, but clearly he didn’t have that same influence on you - instead, each drawing of him was more delicate than any of the others, like you’d put more effort in.

Satan returns it to you later, a smile on his face. He does apologise immediately, for looking at the drawings without your permission.

“Its alright. I’m just glad you found it for me.” You’re completely cheery, not bothered at all, and Satan sighs in relief.

“You’ve drawn me quite a lot,” he notes.

“Well obviously. I spend the most time with you,” you say, smiling when you catch the faint pout he covers up. That wasn’t what he had expected or wanted you to say, clearly. Nor was it all you had to say on the matter. “Also, you’re very beautiful. I wanted to try and capture that and keep a little for myself.”

He smiles now, content, and pats you on the head. “If you want me around, you only have to ask.”

.

Asmodeus

You’d been working away at something as he picked out an outfit and fixed his hair, and he’d been dying to ask but he just needed to adjust a few more strands first - you were going out to Majolish together and he wanted to look perfect. He always did, of course, but when the two of you were going out together he put in even more effort than usual.

When he finally finishes, he jumps up out of his chair and rushes over to you.

“How do I look?” he asks, beaming, full of confidence as always.

“Fabulous,” you say, reaching out to readjust a few strands of hair that had fallen out of place from his quick movements. He sits down on his bed beside you and pulls you up until you’re sitting beside him, hugging you around your waist.

“What were you doing whilst you were waiting? You looked so focused, it was adorable~” Asmo chirps, looking pointedly at the sketchbook. His eyes widen in genuine surprise. “Wait, is that me?”

You nod, lifting your sketchbook up so that the two of you could see it properly. You’d been drawing him, just little sketches as he flitted about the room doing this and that to get ready. You couldn’t have spent long on each one, and yet they captured him perfectly. He looked elegant in each, determined and beautiful.

You flicked back to the previous page before he could comment, and Asmo’s breath caught in his throat. This drawing was him, it was so brilliant an example of everything that he was. He was looking at you and smiling, and you’d captured the love and admiration in his eyes so perfectly he wondered if this was somehow a photograph.

Asmo tears up and hugs you tighter, burying his face against your neck. You can feel him smile wide against your skin. He stays like that for only a moment before his excitement bubbles up to the surface and he litters your cheek, nose, and forehead with feather-light kisses. He’d do anything for the one who saw him as he was.

.

Beelzebub

Beel had a pretty normal schedule for each day - he’d exercise, go to school, spend time with you and Belphie or his other brothers if they were around and alright with it, and of course, he’d eat quite a lot. You had a good idea of where he’d be throughout the day, and when you had the time for it, you’d accompany him so he wasn’t alone. Whether that meant sitting on the counter as he dug through the fridge, or laying on the sofa with your head in his lap and your feet in Belphie’s, you just liked to spend time with him.

And, a lot of the time, he noticed you had this little book with you. He’d caught you glancing at him many times, but didn’t think anything of it. He glanced at you a lot, too, so maybe it was only to be expected. He’d gotten used to the butterflies in his stomach when you two randomly linked eyes and you grinned, twirling your pencil around in your hand.

A lot of your time was spent together in relative silence, as well, and he was accustomed to hearing your pencil scratch against the paper. But he never asked what you were doing, because if you wanted to tell him you would. He trusted you to do that. And his trust paid off, when you were both watching a show together.

He notices early on that you're paying more attention to him than the screen, and when the episode finishes you tap him gently on the shoulder before stretching out your wrists. He looks to you, tilting his head in curiosity until you hold the book open in front of him.

It was a drawing of him, focused on the screen, odd lighting casting shadows against his form. He had something in his hand, some sort of food, but you’d put more attention into actually drawing him. So much attention that he was sure no matter how long he looked, there would always be something more to notice.

“Its me?” he asks, unsure lilt in his voice. He looks bashful, like he’s done something wrong. “Why?”

You stretch out your arms again, thinking, and finally answer, “Because you looked beautiful, and I wanted to draw you?”

It was neither easy nor hard to make Beel blush, and most of the time it just seemed to happen. You hadn’t caught onto the pattern yet, hadn’t been able to perfect it so that you could make it happen whenever you wanted. But you smile in silent victory now as his ears and cheeks flush a reddish pink, pairing nicely with his wide eyes.

His surprise gives way to a smile, and he leans over to wrap his arms around you, holding you close. All he can manage is a thank you, but with that you know how much he appreciates it, how much he appreciates you.

.

Belphegor

Belphie would often drag you off to the attic, and whilst he enjoyed the times where you would curl up in his arms and nap with him until you absolutely had to get up, he knew he couldn’t expect that of you constantly. You were still human, and you could only sleep so much before you had to get up to stretch or eat or just do something else to occupy your mind.

You’d built up a habit together, now, where if you wanted to get up you’d tap his arm twice and he’d reluctantly let you go. He’d stay awake if you left the room, just enough so that he’d be able to tell when you returned. If you didn’t, he’d have to go seek you out again by himself to drag you back with him and absolutely not just to make sure you were okay. If you did return, he’d go back to sleep and let you do what you wanted, opening his arms up if you tapped on them again to crawl back into his grip. It was peaceful, and though he never said it aloud, he loved it.

Often times, when he did wake up, you’d be sitting nearby in a little bundle of pillows and blankets that you’d made with a book and pencil in hand. You were quick to notice when he woke up, so Belphie could never just watch you to figure out what you were doing, which frustrated him to no end but at the same time it was nice to be known. Still, he was determined to figure it out.

His determination is unnecessary, because one day he wakes up and you’re looking straight at him, smiling contentedly. He woke up too fast, then, heart pounding as he tried to remember that expression. Did you admire him so much to look at him like that, even when he was just sleeping?

“You’re awake,” you say, voice light and cheery.

“And you were watching me sleep, as always,” Belphie scoffs, pulling the blanket up over his face to cover up his blush. “What’s new?”

You pout and stick out your tongue at him, and he lowers the blanket enough to return the gesture. It was hard to remember just how old he was when he acted like that.

“With good reason,” you tell him. He raises an eyebrow, and you smile and hold out your sketchbook. He takes it immediately, trying to act nonchalant as he opens it up and flicks through the pages. You barely catch how his eyes widen, how his breath catches and he slows down, taking in each drawing carefully.

“There are... a lot of drawings, of me sleeping,” Belphie says, swallowing, raising the book enough to try to cover his smile. Too late, you think. You’d caught him.

“You look cute like that. Plus, its the only time you sit still enough for me to draw you.”

“Or you’re just that obsessed with me. Weirdo.” He closes the book and hands it back to you, sitting up to stretch. He keeps his eyes on you, notices when you frown the tiniest bit. Was his teasing too much?

He sighs and slides out of bed, sitting in your pile beside you. He leans against you, like a cat looking for attention without wanting to admit it, and takes your hand in his, playing with your fingers.

“Thanks, MC.”

[hes-writer]

All Too Well

Summary: right person, wrong time

Warning: sweet fluff and angst

Word Count: 4519 words

A/N: listen to ‘All Too Well’ by Taylor Swift first as there are some references throughout the fic. I also added time stamps as this occurs over the course of one year. I’m sorry if it’s confused—I tried my best to make it as coherent as possible ❤️

also, covid doesn’t exist in this au!

‘~~~’ = flashback, ‘—‘ = cut scene

November 2020

Y/N scrambled through the many articles of clothing sprawled in her drawer. The fabrics mingling with each other into a giant mess. It didn’t even include the pile of clothes sitting on the mattress and dripping on the floor.

That was the thing with Y/N. She had a habit of keeping things she didn’t need. She wasn’t a hoarder—although, Y/N did keep more things in favour of their sentimental value. It was her thing.

The fact that she could cradle a t-shirt in her palms and tell someone exactly what happened on a day that moulded the story of that specific shirt was her skill. Y/N liked to think that you could tell a lot about a person on what kind of clothes they wore—whether they were seeking affection or isolating, but not lonely.

In fact, her clothes didn’t just hold meaning for herself—it catered pieces of places she went to wearing the outfit. The things she thought of while adorning it, the emotions that she felt as it covered or—barely—shielded her skin. It was especially important to her to remember the people she spent it with.

Like that oversized, knee-length coat hung near the back of her closet. Y/N barely wore it now but seeing it beneath the splayed doors of the wardrobe, she could see flashes in her head about the last time she had worn it.

The way the pea coat flowed behind her as she twirled in a gentle circle, twisting the fabric slightly and catching tiny drops of littered snow. Y/N could picture the bulbous hat she wore on her head. A tiny pompom weighing every which way with the direction of her head. Her hands were in warm mittens that rendered her fingerless. The snow boots on her feet were crunching with every step of the crisp white snow beneath her feet.

It was truly a winter wonderland when the white weather sprinkled down on her—on them.

Y/N could just about feel the same large grin replicating her face when she snapped out her memory. The ghost of the hung overcoat literally hunted her as it rested in the shadows of her closet.

Y/N blinked twice, slouching her shoulders as she stayed frozen on her knees. The carpet wasn’t doing much to protect her taut skin, but she was in search of something and intended to find it. Except, she couldn’t find it anywhere.

She was sure that there was absolutely no way that she could lose it. It was a loud patterned scarf that frayed at the edges. It was, quite possibly, the ugliest design Y/N had laid her eyes upon. Though, a certain someone had reassured her that she looked beautiful regardless. Besides, the air was way too chilly to think about fashion choices that day.

~~~

December 2019

“Why don’t you pose for me, love?” Harry suggested, holding his phone tightly in one hand. That same hand was pulled free of the warm confines of his leather gloves as he insisted on capturing a few photos of his girl.

“You got it, mister,” Y/N replied, bending down to ball a glob of snow in her mitten-covered hand. She could just barely feel the iciness radiating off the protective layer. “Mind if I add some props?”

She lifted her hand, a raised brow quirking up her knit beanie.

Harry chuckles, “Go right ahead,”

He tilted his phone, ignoring the way his fingers lost feeling at the fingertips in favour of watching the woman of his dreams throw the patch of snow in the air. He captured the picture, admiring the way her back looked. Y/N really was beautiful from all angles. It was kind of counterintuitive, really, since it was snowing after all. But Harry was way too enamoured to question the questionable actions of his lover.

Besides, the gleaming smile on her face was enough to wipe his mind clean of anything other than her.

“Great! Why don’t you turn around?”

The woman looked over her shoulder was a subtle roll of her eyes, “No way,”

“C’mon, love. ‘S not even tha’ ugly,” Harry urged, commenting about the scarf wrapped around her neck.

She scoffed, “The fact that you have to reassure me is proof that it is ugly,”

Y/N played with the thin ends of the fabric, smiling to herself as she heard Harry groan loudly behind her. They were staying at Gemma’s house for the holidays and Y/N had purchased the first scarf she had seen at the store. She had nearly forgotten it if it weren’t for Harry calling her the night before to ensure that she would be warm during their stay. Not only was it cold, but the chilliness was just a tad too crisp to leave the cozy home without some sort of neck protection.

So, here she was dressed all cute from head-to-toe except her shoulders. It was a bit stupid to care so much about an ugly scarf design but Y/N guessed it had something to do with wanting everything to be perfect.

“I don’t think it’s ugly,” Harry quipped, sounding much closer than he had before. “‘Think it’s really nice. Especially the cutie who’s wearing it. Mind if I borrow it some time?”

Y/N couldn’t help the appearance of her love-struck eyes, smiling again when she felt his bundled arms snaked around her waist. Harry was warm, as usual, and he was sturdy as a rock both literally and metaphorically. Standing still in the snow gave her a bit of a shiver but having Harry’s body close was a breath of relief.

He cradled her between his arms, resting his own scarf-covered chin on her shoulder. Y/N knew that he must’ve been bending at the knees to reach that height. She clutched his naked hand between her mittens, directing it to a pocket in the confines of her coat to keep warm.

“Are you talking about me or the scarf?”

“How about both? Make it a two-for-one deal, yeah?” Harry’s voice was a bit hazy.

He felt as though he was captivated in a trance, watching the snowflakes rest gently on the slope of Y/N’s lashes. Her eyes glancing at their joined, mittened and gloved, hands.

She sighed, “Why not?”

Harry gave a silent cheer, leaning little ways into peck her cold cheek with his lips.

“Alright, now why don’t ya’ twirl for me, Y/N?” He instructed, taking cautious steps back in the snow.

“Like this?”

Harry nodded, thumbing the red button on his phone to press ‘record’. He watched as Y/N gracefully spun in a circle. Her pea coat flailed just at knee-level. Her boots squelched the starch white snow.

She did a full 360 before fully facing him with a bright grin. Harry couldn’t be sure how much his heart could take. He switched the setting to capture a photo.

“Exactly like that,”

He wanted to remember this.

~~~

Upon realization that Y/N would not get hold of that specific scarf—at least not for a while—because it was at Gemma’s home miles away from her, Y/N forced herself to clean up the mess she had made. Maybe it was the sudden strike of sensitivity coursing through her but Y/N felt much more emotional than she did before.

Perhaps it was the match-strike ignition of burning memories that flickered through her brain because once she started; she couldn’t stop.

It started with the frosty memory of twirling in the deep snow. Then, it was the flashback of driving from the grocery store to pick up ingredients before heading back to Gemma’s.

Y/N couldn’t deny the butterflies she felt playing that particular memory back because it was one of the moments that cemented a deep-rooted emotion in her.

The feeling of being beautiful—captivating, charming and alluring that Harry failed to notice the red traffic light switching to a reflective green. (‘Oi! Eyes on the road’)

She could still see the blush on his pale skin, realizing that he had been caught staring. And, by the way, the car behind them honked when Harry failed to move through the intersection. (‘Sorry, got distracted’).

And Y/N didn’t want to say anything but she could feel his tiny glances over her when Harry thought that she wasn’t paying attention.

———

November 2020

It has been nearly a year now.

Only a few more weeks until the dreaded date looped around to a full year passing. This time, Harry wasn’t around to celebrate the festivities with her and that ugly scarf was an article that Y/N had desperately missed. Ironically.

It would be just under a year when Harry had taken Y/N to his childhood home—now Gemma’s house as Anne had moved to a smaller place. It was where he excitedly showed her his room—the posters on his walls. The comics he used to read and the CD’s he used to listen to piled on his desk.

~~~

December 2019

“Quite an improvement,” Y/N commented, sitting on the edge of his twin-sized bed. She was referring to his King-sized bed from when she had slept over a couple of times.

“I’d say,” Harry agreed. The wood creaked under his weight as he sat beside her.

They both stared at the wall in front of them, feeling a sense of intimacy as Harry shared the remnants of his life to her.

The day continued when Anne had called the both of them down for hot cocoa, paired with a striped red, green and white candy cane dipped in the mug.

This was the part that hurt Y/N the most. It was almost too painful to remember—to reminisce because it was proof that the couple were so close to making a future together.

It didn’t happen, though.

Despite Anne and Gemma’s stories about a once upon a time, dorky Harry in his glasses (‘He still is’)—his family couldn’t stop referencing Y/N as his future.

“Hope your kids don’t take after his naked habit”

“Maybe your garden will have wild roses”

“Reckon you guys will get a small home?”

It made Y/N’s cheeks heat up. His family already thought of her as part of their family. And one sneaky look at Harry ensured her that Anne and Gemma weren’t the only ones thinking of their future because Harry caught her gaze long enough to give her the answer she was subconsciously searching for.

And when salutations had to be said, Harry and Y/N said goodbye to Gemma and Anne as they were to return to their respective London homes.

It was also the day that Harry had asked Y/N to move in with him.

——

It was exciting, to say the least. Moving in with your significant other was a big step in any relationship. The fact that Harry was a world-renowned superstar almost disappeared from Y/N’s mind because even though his home was a million times larger than her tiny flat—it immediately felt like home.

Harry wasn’t one to dwell too much on changes. In fact, he often referred to it as a sign that things were moving forward. There was no use being stuck in the same place when the universe had so much to offer. So, he was quite glad when Y/N made herself comfortable in his—their—home.

She managed to make the large place feel cozy. The decorations and tiny trinkets she had placed all over the house were really just pieces of her heart sprinkled in a home in which they’d build a life together. He would look at a pastel-coloured tea kettle and question when he had gotten the appliance before realizing that it was Y/N’s. Harry would use the tea kettle to boil water instead of using his Keurig.

___

Their schedules wouldn’t always line up. But Harry and Y/N were too loved-up to care how little time they spent with each other. There was no use in complaining when they could use that time to appreciate each other—for sticking around. For being the same when things moved too fast. For being the rock that both of them needed when times get rough.

Harry’s late studio sessions ran through the early morning when Y/N would be cooped up in their shared bedroom. Fast asleep and hugging his scented pillow. Sometimes he would find her bundled with a blanket on the living room couch. The soft glow of the television highlighting Y/N’s beautiful features. One look at her was enough to release Harry of the tension he felt on his joints and shoulders.

Y/N’s night shifts were the same too. She would return to a quiet house because Harry had fallen asleep. Despite his attempts to stay awake, he was not a night owl at all. Not only to stay up past ten in the evening unless he was out to do work. She had reassured him countless times that she would be okay on the drive home and that he should sleep when his body grew tired.

Harry tried to stay awake. He really did. And Y/N could tell because as soon as she crawls to her side of the bed, Harry’s right arm immediately pats the cold sheets for her as if sensing that she was nearby. He would mumble a quiet murmur of her name, “Y/N? Tha’ you?”

He would receive no verbal response, nor would Harry be able to see his love in the dark of the night even because Y/N hadn’t bothered to switch her bedside lamp on. Y/N was aware of Harry’s sensitivity to light, especially if he was in the dark for a long period of time. Despite that, Harry would hum in satisfaction when Y/N’s body would etch perfectly against his in a silent greeting that yes it is her.

They would fall fast asleep cuddled into one another.

If they managed to stay awake or if sleep failed to come, Y/N and Harry would trudge down the stairs for a midnight snack, squealing loudly as one playfully chased the other down the staircase.

Sometimes it was Y/N walking in on Harry munching on a few biscuits (‘Not such a health nut anymore, huh?’). Sometimes it was Harry catching Y/N making a fruit salad—an array of fruits and vegetables laying on the counter (‘I take credit for this’, he would say.)

But it would always end the same.

With both of them dancing goofily with each other. The refrigerator light was the only source of illumination because neither would be bothered to turn on an actual light. Not when the fridge served as a light source and a container of a variety of edible choices.

One night would end with Y/N slow dancing in Harry’s arms. His hands-on her waist, grazing her skin when her pyjamas too lifted. Their bodies would rest against each other like a stacked jigsaw. Harry’s chin on her head, hers on his broad shoulder. A pair of their hands clasped tightly on one another while the other found purchase with their bodies.

Harry would hum a light tune or sing softly so that they can find their rhythm. They would sway across the kitchen—slowly—crying out in pain and laughter when one would bump their hip on the marble counter. Y/N would listen to his heartbeat thrumming beneath his chest and even though she could only see a bit of him—it was enough.

One night would end with Y/N and Harry goofily flailing their limbs every which way. Boisterous laughter filling the room as Harry practically wheezed at Y/N’s admittance of performing a mean Dougie.

And with the fridge light catching the bits of it, Harry would slap his palm on the counter to catch himself before his knees gave out below him (‘There’s jus’ no way you’re that good’). She proved him wrong.

Neither of them knew when it would be the last time these moments occurred. Until they stopped completely.

——

It was the small changes that brought them closer together. And what would inevitably drive them apart.

It was the fact that even though the couple didn’t see each other much, they still cherished the time they had together because that was enough.

The relationship was built off of mutual trust, respect and honesty. Time was essential but Harry and Y/N didn’t necessarily need a lot of it. They just needed the reassurance of ‘always’. That no matter what happens, however far away they were from each other physically, however, the time they spent apart—that Harry would always come back to her and Y/N would always run home to him.

——

It was late-August when they broke up.

Leading up to it, Y/N had been promoted at her workplace and Harry was no longer spending late nights at the studio. He was sleeping in the studio instead of coming home.

Y/N was understanding. He was on a time-crunch since his second album was due to be released at the end of that year. She wanted to be as supportive as she had always been—if not, more. Harry didn’t need more pressure from her—his partner—who was supposed to be his solid ground in a cracking centre.

It was okay. It was okay. It was okay.

It was fine that they were spending less time than they normally would—not that it was a lot in the first place.

He was still trying. She was still trying. Messages, video calls—hell, even emails were there. The rare times when their schedule would actually coincide were spent peacefully sleeping on the bed. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Then, Y/N got promoted. More responsibilities. Training her colleagues. Interviewing assistants. Typing detailed emails. Double-checking spreadsheets.

At the same time that Harry was being pulled left and right to make decision after decision. Finalizing next year’s tour dates. Promos. TV shows. Modelling campaigns. Photoshoots. Interviews.

And like any other, answering later turned into a message left on ‘read’. A missed call manifested into an unopened voicemail. A desperate-measures email was only one of the many in each others’ inbox.

Harry wanted Y/N to come with him on tour the following year but it was a stretch waiting to be snapped.

She couldn’t.

Y/N was starting to build her life, building her career and she wasn’t going to give that up for him just yet. He could go on tour and she could visit when time allows. They knew that. Harry would buy her a ticket and she would be off to see him—when she can.

~~~~

June 2020

“I can’t go. You know that,” Y/N sighed, rubbing a palm over her face.

Harry leaned his shoulder against the doorframe of the bathroom. “I knew that. ‘Was worth a try though,”

They shared a comforting smile with each other. A hint of reassurance when uneasiness prevailed. There was something about the shift from spring to summer that simmered in their chests.

“Promise you’ll come to visit?”

“Of course,”

~~~

London may be Harry and Y/N’s home but LA was calling for him. Hence, why he spent the summer on the other side of the world. On another continent, across the pond, as some people might say.

It’s just a few months. He’ll be back before you know it, Y/N thought.

Harry will be home for the holidays and they would drive up north to spend it with Anne and Gemma as they did the previous year. The year when Y/N had met them for the first time and despite that, attained their approval to build a future with Harry.

Just a few months and then Harry will be back with her. The same Harry who will gently loop an ugly scarf around her neck. Teasing her about its hideousness before reassuring her that it was ‘as stunning as the woman wearing it’. . .or something. Harry always complimented her.

Yet, Harry never came home a few weeks shy before their scheduled road trip as they had planned. And Y/N did not visit him like she had promised to do.

Though, none of them blamed the other because they were too busy with their own lives to keep up with each other. What once was a loving and caring relationship was not a liability pushed to the back burner.

One might say that Harry and Y/N’s love was a case of wrong timing. They were perfect for each other—but just not now.

Because Y/N had a lot of things going for her and expanding her career. Harry was becoming more and more popular and successful by the minute. It wasn’t like they meant to ignore each other or be oblivious that they were still very much in a relationship with each other. Both Harry and Y/N just had a lot on their plate to even think twice about a relationship.

It wasn’t anybody’s fault—really. Even though their phone call says otherwise.

——-

August 2020

“Y-you what? Y/N, love,” Harry spoke through the phone.

Y/N’s breath hitched at the sound of the beloved nickname. It had been a while since she had heard it.

“I want to break up,” She repeated.

“Why?”

The woman picked at her fingernails, distracting herself from going back to the spreadsheet in front of her. She was in the middle of a break up yet her body urged to continue working.

“What do you mean why?” Y/N sighed exasperatedly. “It’s been months since we’ve seen each other, Harry. You said you’ll be home before Christmas so we can see Anne and Gemma but—,”

“We don’t have to see them! Y’can fly out here and spend it with me,”

“You know, I can’t,”

Upon letting those slip past her lips, Y/N was starting to question if Harry had disconnected because of the eeriness over the phone.

And as he said that night months ago with the alteration of Y/N’s word, “‘Know y’cant. You promised, though.”

Harry’s voice cracked and Y/N wondered if he was gnawing on his lip like he usually would when tears overflowed the ducts of his eyes. In the distance, Y/N heard a door close shut and she wondered if he had been working—the same as her—before she had decided to call and he had decided to answer.

A knife pierced into Y/N’s chest, guilt seeping in her veins as she recalled the words she had uttered to him. A promise that she would visit if he gave her the ticket. But that was then and this is now.

She wasn’t the head of her department then. Y/N had a lot more responsibilities now and she couldn’t just up and leave whenever she wanted to.

“And you promised to come back. Did you?”

He didn’t.

“Look, can we talk about this later? ‘M in the middle of recording and—“

“When are you not?” Y/N cut him off absentmindedly, splitting her attention on the Excel sheet in front of her.

“Excuse me?” Harry quipped, faintly hearing the clacks of a keyboard. “I know I work a lot but y’do too. Barely even respond to my texts anymo’”

“Says the one who doesn’t answer my calls,” Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes.

And there it was again. The defeat of silence that proved no matter how much they retaliated against one another—neither of them would win because both of them were at fault.

“I was busy,”

“I am, too,”

“Y/N—“

“What?”

“I-I don’t want to lose you. . .”

The ache in Y/N’s chest grew tenfold. Her fingers momentarily paused over the keys of her laptop board. There was nothing to lose. Not when they’ve already thrown it away.

“I don’t want to either, H. But don’t you think breaking up is better than waiting for something that will never happen?”

“What won’t?” He asked, genuinely curious.

Y/N pushed her chair back, staring at the view of the city from her office.

“Us. Our future. It won’t happen because you’re busy and I’m busy. There’s no right time for us to start, Harry.”

“Who says there has to be a right time, huh?”

“Says, everybody! How are we supposed to build our relationship further when there is no relationship to work on?”

The waves of emotion came crashing down. For months, Y/N had suppressed the feeling of loneliness inside of her. She missed Harry so badly that it hurt her to admit so she went with the temporary bliss of balling it up until it became too much.

“We just need time, Y/N. We don’t need to do it at the right time. Y’know that,” Harry whispered, wishing so badly that this conversation didn’t take place over the phone where he was currently locked in a bathroom stall.

He continued, “You were there, weren’t you? Barely saw you but y’were there. You know how I feel about you and I know you feel about me. We jus’ need time,”

Time.

Because time is when Harry and Y/N  would slow dance in the kitchen at god-knows-hour of the morning.

Because time is when Harry and Y/N blissfully spent their time in the cold, watching her throw the bundle of snow in the air as if it was in slow-motion.

Because time is when Harry would look at Y/N and swear that it has stopped because nothing else mattered except her.

“You know it, you know it,” Harry gulped, breath hitching over the phone. Was he crying?

“All too well,” Y/N responded underneath her breath. She knew that he was right—that all they needed was a chance to reconnect and rekindle the flame put out by distance.

She hated how familiar every memory was to her. She hated how easily she was brought back to the moment it all happened with just the breath of his whisper.

There was no denying the emotion she felt wearing his hoodie and red and black plaid pyjamas at three in the morning. The affection she received wearing those pieces of clothing from the man who owned them. Her sock feet glided against the cold floor. Everything came flashing back to Y/N and it hurt because there was no way she could grant his wish.

“You’re asking for too much, Harry. I-I can’t give you that. You can’t give me—us—that,”

“W-what are you saying, love?” He whimpered, clutching the device in his hand as a last resort to hold onto something that was drifting away.

He knew that she was right. Y/N couldn’t give him that and he certainly couldn’t either.

“We can’t be together. At least, not now. We’re not the same anymore. We want the same things but we’re headed on different paths,”

“But we’ll meet again, won’t we?” Harry’s hoarse voice exemplified that he was—indeed—been crying. And Y/N’s wet cheeks were proof that she was as well.

“Always,”

_____

[americancowgirl19]

Acceptance

Summary: You find the love of your life in the middle of a highway.

Warnings: violence, soulmate, fluff, angst?, implied smut

Reader: Female Reader

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 3,680

A/n: This was requested by @fyeahtaylorp​ : Could you please do a Bucky Barnes x plus size female reader imagine where you see black and white until you meet your soulmate and they meet during the winter solider when he’s not really him and he’s protective of her and she works along side Steve and she has weather manipulation powers and they meet again and he’s still protective and there is smut please. - I am so freaking sorry that it took me forever to get this written and published and I didn’t get to the smut, so sorry. I also changed it just a little bit so I hope you still like it! 

Masterlist

“Hey, are you Sam Wilson?” You question, standing on the man's front doorstep. He frowns his eyebrows, crosses his arms, and sizes you up. You know you don’t look like much, but your mother always said that looks were deceiving. “Can I come in?”

“And who are you?” He asks, standing tall in the doorway.

“She’s backup,” Natasha states, coming into view. You instantly send a smile her way. “We can trust her,” She reassures him. Sam presses his lips together but nods and moves to let you in.

“You look good... All things considered,” You compliment her. She looked like her naturally beautiful self with only a couple of scratches and bruises on her skin.

“It’s been a rough few days,” Natasha tells you. “We could use your help,” You smirk and cock your head to the side.

“That’s what I’m here for. Where’s Cap?” Once the question leaves your lips, the golden boy comes into the room. “Heard you were in a tight spot,” You state when he looks at you with arched eyebrows. His eyes move from you to Natasha, who gives an innocent shrug.

“We could use her help,” Natasha states. “We can trust her,” She vouches. Steve looks hesitant but nods before giving you a polite smile.

“Rough few days, huh?” You mutter, looking at Natasha, sensing that her words were a bit of an understatement. “What exactly are we up against?”

Natasha and Steve both begin to fill you and Sam in on what’s been going on. You weren’t surprised Shield had been compromised. You didn’t trust anybody outside your small group. You preferred being on your own in a secluded area.

However, Natasha is one of the select few that has your complete trust. Therefore, when she called, saying she needed help, you came without hesitation.

“So, the question is: who in Shield could launch a domestic missile strike?” Natasha questions.

“Pierce,” Steve realizes.

“Who happens to be sitting on top of the most secure building in the world,” Natasha sighs.

“But he’s not working alone. Zola’s algorithm was on the Lemurian Star,”

“So was Jasper Sitwell,”

“So, the real question is: how do the two most wanted people in Washington kidnap a Shield officer in broad daylight?”

“The answer is: you don’t,” Sam states, dropping a military file on the table. Natasha pulls it toward her.

“What’s this?”

“Call it a resume,”

“Is this Bakhmala? The Khalid Khandil mission, that was you,” Natasha states. “You didn’t say he was a para-rescue,” She mumbles, looking at Steve.

“Is this Riley?” He asks, and Sam nods.

“I heard they couldn’t bring in the choppers because of the RPGs. What did you use, a stealth chute?”

“No. These,” Sam corrects Natasha. Steve flips through the file.

“I thought you said you were a pilot,”

“I never said pilot,” Sam smirks with a hint of smugness. It’s enough to get you grinning. You decide that you like him.

“I can’t ask you to do this, Sam. You got out for a good reason,”

“Dude, Captain America needs my help. There’s no better reason to get back in,”

“So, where can we get one of those?” You wonder, peaking at the pictures. “I don’t think Walmart has those in stock,”

“The last one is at Fort Meade,” Sam answers, an amused grin on his lips. “Behind three guarded gates and a twelve-inch steel wall,”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Steve assures him.

“I’m assuming you have a plan?” You ask, Steve. “Or is this a wing-it kind of mission?” Natasha grins a bit before they start laying out the plan.

Your part of the plan was to keep them from dying, basically. Nobody knew that you were involved. You were to stay in the background and only intervene if needed. Knowing Natasha, you would need to step in sooner rather than later.

You watched them from a distance. You smirked when you saw Sam flying around with his wings. They were a cool contraption; you weren’t going to lie.

Borrowing someone’s car, you followed them from a distance. You watched for anyone suspicious. Everything seemed normal until someone caught your eye.

This, someone, was dressed in black, but he stood out from everything around you. Like everyone else who had yet to meet the one they’re destined to be with, the world is dull and colorless. Only after meeting and accepting your soulmate could you see the world the way it’s supposed to be seen, full of color.

So, while his attire is completely black, his pale skin and silver arm stand out. You knew this was the man, The Winter Soldier, that Natasha and Steve had warned you about. You knew you should have warned them, but you were frozen by the revelation.

When he leaped from the car he was on and onto the one with your friends, you snapped out of your daze. Cursing, you sped up to try and get to them, but by the time you were able to weave around traffic and catch up, their car had crashed.

“Some backup you are, Y/n,” You mutter to yourself. You slam on the breaks and put the car in park before climbing out. You race down the highway and toward the men shooting at Natasha and Sam.

You stop a few paces away from the shooters and begin to conjure fog to cover their escape. Before long, Natasha can get away, and the attention is on you instead of Sam.

Able to see through your fog clearly, your search for your soulmate. When you find him, you send a powerful gust of wind in his direction. The force sends him flying back and through a car. You wince, but at least he’s not within the fog’s grasp any longer.

You move around as bullets come flying your way. You had given up your position, but it had been necessary. Once you find a safer place to stand, you begin to manipulate the fog once more. Your breath is now visible as the air around you drops rapidly in temperature.

To add to the cold, you begin to make the air thinner in their area. You see them shivering, and some drop to the ground due to the lack of oxygen.

In the corner of your eye, you notice one of the men had escaped the fog’s perimeter. He aims his gun at you but forces the fog to become thicker as you slip into its protective cover. Within the fog, you notice that more than one man has escaped.

You huff in annoyance, but at least you have eliminated a couple of the problem people. You see a few people standing at the edge of the highway shooting down where you assume Natasha, Steve, and Sam are.

Before you deal with them, you turn to the one that continues to hunt you just outside of the fog. Giving him an annoyed glare, one he doesn’t see, you point your hand at him. Like Palpatine, you release streams of lightning from your fingertips.

The man screams in pain and drops to the floor. You continue your ministrations until his screams stop. By then, however, the fog has dissipated, allowing the others to see you. Their guns turn to you, but before you can defend yourself, a stream of bullets lodge into their heads.

Your eyes snap to the source and notice the Soldier standing there. You both stare at each other before he stalks to the edge of the bridge and jobs down to the lower level. You race to the edge to watch him stomp off a crushed car and continue onward as nothing happened.

“Oh, no, you’re not getting away that easily,” You mutter. Lifting your hands, you manipulate the air around yourself. It lifts you off the ground and gently sets you down beside the car the Soldier had crushed when he landed.

You run in the direction the Soldier had gone. You see him locked in a fight with Steve. It looks like Cap finally met his match.

A groan catches your attention. Your breath catches in your throat. You jog over to Natasha and inspect her bullet wound.

“This is gonna hurt,” You warn her. She looks at you before closing her eyes. When she nods, you place your hands on either side of her wounded shoulder. You conjure enough heat to cauterize the wound.

“I hate it when you do that,” She mumbles. You smile at her.

“Well, stop getting shot, and I won’t have to do it,” You wink at her. “You’ll be alright,” You assure her before standing up. You turn back toward the Soldier and Steve. For the first time, you see him without his mask.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” He asks Steve before aiming a pistol at Steve. Your breath hitches again when Sam comes in and kicks the Soldier away from Steve. When he regains his footing, you notice Natasha aiming a grenade launcher at him.

“No!” You shout, shoving Natasha, forcing her to miss her target. When you look back, you notice the Soldier is gone. Before you can react, a collar is locked around your neck, preventing your mutation from working.

“It was him... He looked right at me like he didn’t even know me,” Steve mutters.

“How’s that even possible? It was like 70 years ago,” Sam states as Natasha stares at you intently. You avoid her gaze and continue to stare at Steve, wanting to know as much about him as possible.

“Zola. Bucky’s whole unit was captured n ‘43, Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. They must have found him and...”

“None of that's your fault, Steve,” Natasha assures him.

“Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky,” Steve whispers.

Great, my soulmate is a ninety-something supersoldier that’s in Hydra. You think sarcastically. Although, if he doesn’t even know who he is, how can he willingly work for Hydra? He protected me from his own men. Hydra soldiers don’t do that. There’s hope for him.

“Oh, you’re on our side?” You ask when one of the masked persons beats the sit out of the other two. “Oh, hey Maria,” You greet when she takes her helmet off.

“Ah, that thing was squeezing my brain... Who’s this guy?”

After making the grand escape, you’re all lead towards a hideout. There you find Nick Fury, who’s apparently not dead. After an argument on how to go about things, you prepare to take on Shield/Hydra once again.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or am I going to have to start guessing?” Natasha questions. You glance up at her before looking back down at your feet.

“You’re smart, Nat... I’m sure you’ve already figured it out,” You whispers. Natasha doesn’t say anything for a minute. She then comes toward you and sits down.

“Can you stop him?” Nat asks. You meet her look.

“If I can... You won’t be seeing me for a while,” You tell her. She sends you a small smile.

“Do what you have to do... Just be careful,” She advises. You smile, bumping your shoulder with hers.

“You’re the one who should be careful... Once I find him, I’m going to get him to leave with me. You’ll be in the fight the whole time,” You remind her.

“I’ll be fine,’ Natasha whispers. “Just get him and go,” You smile and slowly nod.

With those words said, the two of you leave the room. You approach Shield with Steve and Sam. The two of them go their separate ways while you start your search for the Solider... For Bucky.

During your search, you take down as many Hydra agents as possible. You wanted to help the cause, but finding Bucky was more important.

It wasn’t long before you were officially labeled a major threat. This meant that their focus shifted toward you. Things were slowly getting out of hand, but you continue to literally take the air from their lungs and the warmth from their bodies until they died. You offered a foggy cover for the Shield agents that were your allies while shooting your enemies down with bolts of lightning.

When you began to get surrounded, someone came to your aid. He had found you before you found him. He didn’t waste ammo—a single bullet to the head of those around you.

You two shared another look. Instead of looking into sunglasses, this time, you were looking in his eyes. Everything around him would continue to be black and white until he accepted you. You wondered if he could see in color. Despite not knowing him and him working for Hydra, you accepted him. You wanted him. You hoped that he would trust you.

You got lost in the beautiful color of his eyes that you forgot what was happening around you. When he moved to leave you and continue with his mission, you shouted his name. He froze, and you moved a few steps closer.

“Look at me... please,” You whisper to him. He remains motionless. “Your name is Bucky. You were friends with Steve Rogers,” His head turns slightly to you. “I don’t know what’s happened to you, nor do I know what you’ve been through, but I can tell you that things don’t have to be like this. You don’t have to be their weapon, their machine,” You risk a few steps closer to him. “I’m your soulmate. I will never hurt you. I only want you to be happy... To keep you safe,”

He stays still for a moment. He’s so still it’s as if he’s a statue. Then, he moves forward as if the words you just said didn’t matter to him. They probably didn’t. You weren’t going to give up that easily.

“Bucky,” You say again, latching your hand around his wrist. He whips around and wraps your throat in his metallic hand. You tense but don’t move. He’s not cutting off your air; it’s a warning. Your free hand lifts and covers his metal wrist. I won’t hurt you... and I won’t ever let them hurt you again,” You promise him. “Who cares about what’s going on here? It’s not our fight,” You tell him. “Come with me,”

“They’ll find us,” He whispers. You smile brightly.

“They’ve been looking for me for over a decade and haven’t come close,” You tell him. “They couldn’t find me then, and they certainly won’t find us now,” You assure him. “Please, come with me,”

Miraculously, he listens. The two of your leave the battle fairly easily. Anybody who gets in your way ends up dead. You switch your methods between sucking the air from his lungs to overheating or sudden frostbite. Bucky, while amazed by your abilities, settles for a simple bullet to the head. You two work with each other fluently.

You both stay away from populated areas. It’s harder within the city, but once you borrow another car and head into the countryside, it gets easier. You tell Bucky to stay in the car while you quickly buy him some comfortable clothes. Then, you drive him to your home. With your abilities, it’s impossible for anybody else to find, let alone get into, your home.

There’s an intense fog almost a mile thick around your property. Within the fog are intense temperatures. Some temperatures are too high or too low for a human to survive. Outside the fog, everything is normal and up to mother nature.

“Welcome to my home,” You say before climbing out of the car. He hesitantly follows you. “Nobody can come in without my consent,” You tell him. You walk to the house before slowing and turning back to him. “If you really want to leave, let me know... You may be a super soldier, but I’d be surprised if you could survive out there,” Bucky looks at the woods. “Come on; you must be hungry,”

You and Bucky live in silence for a long time. He doesn’t want to talk, and you don’t make him. You try to fill the silence with your ramblings, but it doesn’t always work to make him relax. He has nightmares at night, during the day as well. You want to help, but it’s a complicated situation.

It doesn’t help that he continues to be the only thing in color. He hasn’t accepted you yet. It hurts, but you don’t give up on him.

It takes a month for him to start conversations. It takes him even longer to hold those conversations for more than a few seconds. At this point, he’s knows everything about you while he’s still a mystery. To be fair, he’s still a mystery to himself.

You introduce him to the internet. There he can research himself and Steve. He learns a lot, and you find him behind the screen more often than not.

Around the end of the second month, Bucky seems to be relaxing even more. He still has his nightmares, he still is trying to find himself, but at the same time, it’s like he knows he’s safe. He knows nothing can’t get to him while he’s here. Yet he still won’t let you in.

In an attempt to get him to accept you, you try to do more for him. The meals you cook get more complicated, and you try to be more romantic and supportive. He entertains you but still keeps his distance.

It isn’t until the fourth month you begin to lose hope. You’ve done everything you can to get him to accept you. You’ve given him space, you’ve set him free, you’ve protected him and supported him. You have given him clothes and home, yet still, you get nothing.

You sit on the front porch. You’re thinking through everything. You know, four months, in retrospect, isn’t that long. It’ll take years for Bucky to recover. You had just hoped that he would want you. He’s taken your help, but you wanted him to want you.

When he comes back from his midafternoon run, he pauses right before the porch. He can tell something is bothering you but hasn’t a clue what to do.

“Do you know what soulmates are?” You wonder. Bucky stares at you for a moment before slowly nodding his head. You get a bit frustrated. “Do you trust me?” He hesitates again but ultimately nods. “Do you not want me then?” You whisper. It’s subtle, but Bucky tenses. You read his posture wrong. “Alright,” You whisper, standing up.

“Wait,” He says, jumping up onto the porch. His hand grabs your wrist. You stop, look at his hand, and then up into his eyes. “You’re beautiful. You’re strong. You’re everything I could ever want,”

“Then why haven’t you accepted me?” You whisper. He sighs slowly. As if giving into a desire, he caresses your cheek with his hand.

“For decades, all I’ve known is fighting. I went from one to another. Before that, I never thought I’d see in color. Then you come out of nowhere and turn my world upside-down. As perfect as you are, that doesn’t change who I am. I’m haunted every day, and I know Hydra is hunting me. Just being here will endanger you, but I can’t find it in myself to leave. I don’t want to get to the point of no return. I don’t want you to get attached to me because one day I’ll have to leave, and I don’t know if I’ll come back,”

“That just won’t do for me,” You shake your head. “You see, Buck, I’m in this for life whether you accept me or not. If you leave, I’m just going to follow. Whether you go to Steve or Hydra or even Hell, I will follow you,” You tell him. “You distancing yourself is hurting us more than the potential of you leaving. I’m not going to let you go, Buck... You’ll realize that eventually.”

Things continued the same for a while as Bucky digested your words. Eventually, however, there was a change. It was a slow change, but it was progress nonetheless.

Bucky began to open up to you more. There were subtle touches and lingering gazes. He sat closer and spent more time with you. As the weeks passed, everything began to amplify. The subtle touches turned into handholding that eventually turned into cuddle sessions. The words exchanged turned into flirtatious whispers.

The day you could see everything in color was the day you pulled him into a kiss. You both were the happiest you’ve ever been. The kiss made you both feel as if you had been touch-starved. Neither of you could get enough of each other.

The kiss had started in the kitchen. You were making breakfast when everything turned from black and white to various vibrant colors. You whipped around to him. He had this lopsided grin on his face as he stared at you.

You marched up to him and kissed him without a second thought. He had been leaning on the wall the separated the kitchen from the living room, but he switched positions so that you were pressed between that wall and him.

“I love you,” Bucky whispers. You begin to smile even wider, your heart hammering in your chest. “You’re-”

“I love you too,” You whisper back to him before kissing him once more. Bucky smiles into the kiss and leans into you even more.

You breathe in deeply when he picks you up. He doesn’t hesitate to take you back to your room. The room he’s spent the last few nights cuddling you in. He lays you down on the bed with a tenderness that has your heart fluttering.

“I love you,” He whispers again. He would tell you that all night. He didn’t want to stop kissing you, stop touching, nor stop telling you how much you meant to him. You changed his world, and you became his world.