#i needed this excuse to write something slightly less fluffy

[kanekoii]

sonny where hes childhood friends w the reader and they reconnect after years of not seeing each other (they become friends again and start hanging out again) and their old crush on each other gets rekindled or however u word it... (ive been having SO much brainrot recently i am not ok) anyways scenario of that if u dont mind?

lyra’s notes -> anon…you’ve given me the opportunity to write my favorite genre of fic…

pairing -> sonny brisko x gn! reader

genre -> scenario, angst, attempt at slowburn (my fav genre)

song -> gravitation - oneus

warnings -> attempt at slowburn, i’m sorry this fic is SO long, slight hint at soulmates au at the end

sometimes sonny really wondered wether or not you felt anything at all for him. it was a constant back and forth, much like the uneven orbit of a planet that was much more realistic than the commonly envisioned perfect orbit. when you were smaller children, the both of you were too young to understand the logic of drifting away from each other. yet as the years went on, he became more distant. the final nail in the coffin was when he moved away and you had lost contact completely with him.

he had never left your mind, and you sometimes stared at the stars, silently wishing he was looking at the same ones from wherever he happened to be, somewhere in the world. you had only one remnant of sonny, a necklace with a charm on it, the other half presumably still one of his most prized possessions.

sonny sighed to himself as he stared at the blank sheet of paper. perhaps these feelings would be better expressed to you in person, but would be really have the confidence to give these feelings a voice when you stood in front of him for the first time in years? he doubted the things about you that he had come to not just appreciate but to love with all his heart would have disappeared with the time spent apart, but all these emotions sonny kept to himself would ultimately mean nothing had he not given himself a chance to voice them at all. he’s a hardworking man; all the things he wanted, he worked to achieve. the only thing out of his grasp, and even then it was only ever so slightly, was your love. he wore his half of the necklace every day in a hopeless kind of hope that one day it would mean as much to you as it did to him.

the emotions the commanding officer of the virtual special forces flowed out through his pen and onto the previously blank paper that sat on his desk, waiting to be given a meaning to exist at all. he sent out the letter to you before he could second guess himself, or else all the words he had allowed to escape his heart would be ultimately meaningless and he’d be plunged into the darkness that is keeping these feelings a secret. with his luck, you would have found someone else by now. yet some, ever so small part of his heart and mind held so tightly onto the hope that you’d one day love him as if it were his last lifeline. that hope had been driving him forward since the day he left, so what was a little more?

as you walked to the spot the letter had asked you to meet him, you saw his familiar face, standing nervously in the crowd. the world seemed to fall away before you as you ran towards him as fast as your body would allow. every second, every minute had led to this moment as your heart practically beat out of your chest amidst the blurred colors of the people around you. as you jumped into his arms, he seemed to be the only thing in the universe that had mattered at all.

your love for him grew ever stronger as you spent days together through the summer and autumn, coming to a head in winter when he finally expressed his love for you through a kiss. maybe you were destined to gravitate together by the red thread connecting your hearts. through all, that thread had never broken or disconnected. you were quite literally destined to be with him.

[uranometrias]

hello aly! 🤎 i saw that you were receiving requests and it's okay if i ask for something about hotch? 🥺 perhaps him falling in love with jack's art teacher, i'm in the mood for something really fluffy because i need comfort haha take care pretty soul!

this is such a sweet ask. and yes that's more than okay, you never have to ask xx it's kind of short, i hope it's still okay, i focused mainly on their first meeting, but i am open to writing more works for this universe.

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"Good morning, bud!" you don't have to fake excitement or enthusiasm as Jack Hotchner bounds into your classroom. You crouch, kneeling so that you're face to face with him, as he practically glows. His smile is so bright you fear you may have to squint as he's quick to jump into your arms, chubby little hands looping around your neck. You tried your best to make every single student that walked through your door feel welcome, but they all weren’t as agreeable as Jack Hotchner was.

The hug is comforting, sweet, and it reminds you why you got up every morning to work for less than you were worth. The joy you instilled in your kids made everything worthwhile. Jack pulls back after a moment, exclaiming that you were squeezing too tight. It makes you chuckle slightly as you brush a bit of stray lint off his shoulders. “Sorry, kiddo! You’re just too stinking cute.” You hum, and you enjoy this part of the job. You adored all of your students.

Hellos at the beginning of the day, and goodbyes as they poured out into the hallways to head to their next class. Specials at your school, which consisted of Art, Music, and Gym, happened on rotation. You had Jack’s class first period, four times out the week. His entire class though, had been angels. Through the year you'd only had about two incidents, and both included students fighting over who's turn it was on paint day. You finally let Jack go with one more squeeze.

He giggles, which is a tell that your hugs weren't all that bad. You're a bit startled when an unfamiliar man steps through the door behind him. He's wearing a collared button up, with jeans, and a matching belt. "Um, excuse me, Sir." you hold a hand up, quickly moving to usher Jack, and the other entering students away from the door. "You can't come in here." you affirm, and you look around to see if there was anything in your direct vicinity that could be used to attack.

You settle on a foam brush, clutching it by it's bristles, as you hold it out towards the man. "Stay back, or I'll-" you look down at the paint brush, and then back at the mystery assailant. "I'll use this, and you won't like it." you assert, and your students are giggling, seemingly amused by the situation. You don't see the humour in it. You'd met every single parent and guardian of your students, and this man had never been there. Which made him a flight risk, a danger.

"I think you've got the wrong idea." the man speaks, and his voice stands out. It's very stern, but not hostile. He has a commanding presence, and he seems to appraise you diligently. You take a look at your hand-print dress, and suddenly feel very childish. You loved your job, mostly because you could dress without much judgement. It wasn't like the kids were going to tell you that you looked childish.

"You can never be too careful." you retort sharply, and you readjust your grip on your paint brush. You hoped you looked a bit intimidating, but you wouldn't count on it. "And I don't see a visitor's badge." you add a second after. "Jack, come this way." you prompt, and he seems to stall. He looks from you to the man and back again. He was conflicted, for starters he had his father, his hero standing on one side. And you, his favorite teacher of all time on the other.

"Bye-bye, Daddy." and his choice is made, the small child waving his hand boldly before he's rushing off to his desk, and you're stuck. Aaron, is surprised. Eyes trailing after his son with that feeling every parent has when they realize their child is growing up. It forces a puff of air to escape him, as his eyes quickly flit back to you. His eyebrows raise, dark eyes swimming as realization sets in. Usually Jack was dropped off by his Aunt Jessica Brooks, she was a lovely lady.

She'd mentioned Jack's parental situation. How his mother had passed a few years back, and how his father had a demanding job. You'd given up on ever laying eyes on the man. "You're Mr..." you trail off as your voice cracks obnoxiously. "You're Jack's dad?" you ask, and he lets out a quiet laugh, one that's more a nose exhale than anything else. It's a fitting sort of laugh, you hardly expected the man to be the type to guffaw or even chuckle in an ugly sort of way.

"Not that you can tell by the way he took off." he retorts, and there's still an amusement that rests in his tone. "Aaron," he finally introduces. "Hotchner." he finishes, hand shooting out. It must have been habitual. You didn't know much about the FBI, but you did know that they were sticklers, stone serious. You'd done a project on greatest heroes, and Jack had managed a piece that consisted of a JJ, Prentiss, Garcia, Morgan, Rossi, and Reid. They'd been paired up with a piece that was solely his dad, his superhero. His favorite.

"I'm Jack's teacher." you introduce, as if that didn't go without saying. You reach forward with your free hand, allowing his palm to press against yours. His shake is firm, but you're surprised at how nice his hands feel. There's this spark, a feeling of lightning zigzagging from him to you, and it makes you leap back, paint brush clattering to the ground. The class seems to get lost in the mishap, watching with bated breath for what would possibly come next.

Aaron doesn't bat an eye as he bends down, crouching to pluck the brush up from the ground. He looks bemused, standing back to his full height as he holds your weapon of choice out towards you. "You should be more careful. It's a pretty dangerous weapon in the right hands." and he's making a joke. You find yourself gobsmacked, it was too much for him to be charismatic, and attractive. No, he had to pick one or the other. Still, you grab the brush, despite your fear of sparking again.

"You just got lucky you were vetted by the right kid." you offer your own sort of joke, and his smile makes you proud on the inside.

"I'm sorry for the late appearance." he changes the subject, but it doesn't feel forced or charged. "I meant to get here sooner so that I could lay eyes on Jack's favorite teacher..." you feel proud at the compliment. "You're all he talks about when his day is done." he adds, and you're turning to look at Jack. The kids were separated at their tables, multicolored smocks already on their bodies. They were more than ready for the day. "But as I'm sure you're aware, my job can sometimes keep that from happening." he says and you nod.

"Jess did mention you had a hectic schedule with your job, I understand." your hand waves tiredly, brushing off his apologies. You didn't need them, not when it was so clear that Jack adored his father. And it was more than clear that Jack was Aaron's world. "I'm just glad you finally got here." and you try not to sound as breathless as you feel. "It's important for teachers and parents to be on the same page." you prompt, and Aaron's head nods. You don't know if he really believes you or if it's all politics in a way.

"I couldn't have said it better myself." and he looks so sincere. He's staring at your face intently, and you feel self conscious, blinking too much to be normal. "You've got a little..." and he's motioning towards you. Mortification is the only thing you feel as you run through your morning routine. You'd scrubbed your tongue and teeth thrice before leaving the house. You'd cleaned out any evidence of sleep from your eyes, so what exactly could be out of order.

You swipe frantically at your face and nose, hoping it wasn't something that would make you look like a dunce or a fool in front of Aaron. He chuckles a bit as he extends a hand. "Uh, may I?" he asks, and you're nodding before you should be. It's almost instantaneous the way he's cupping your chin, tilting you head, and dragging his thumb over your cheek. He removes his hand a second later, you could almost pretend it didn't happen. That is, until he's swiping paint on his jeans. Damn, you were such an idiot.

You'd been prepping paint stations for your lesson on symbolism. You must have forgotten to clean up your face before the first bell rang signaling the day's beginning. "That's so embarrassing." you exclaim, and another student is entering the classroom, quickly hugging your side, as you offer an awkward wave to another parent. You squeeze the girl a bit, before she's bounding off to her seat.

"You know, I think it builds character." Aaron promises, and you snort. "Besides, it was kinda intimidating." he's lying, and you know it. He's trying to make you feel less shameful about it. "Anyone looking to mess with your class is in for it." and you're certain your face is visible exposing your humiliation, and subsequent embarrassment at the hands of one of your student's parent.

"Enough, enough." you plead, and here's where you get a full laugh. It's handsome just like everything else about him. "Your sarcasm's far from helpful." you huff, and you're dragging your hand over the same place he'd touched. It tingles as you drag your hands down, and you hope for your sanity Jess is back tomorrow. Garnering a foolish infatuation for your student was the last thing you wanted to happen.

"I'll do my best to keep that in mind for next time." he replies. The bell chirps overhead, a signal that class needed to begin. "Don't work too hard." he prompts, and your heart stutters in your chest. You feel like a fool, he was just being nice, a gentleman like his job required him to be.

"I'll try my best." you promise, and he smiles at you like he's pleased.

"I'll see you later, bud!" and he's addressing Jack, who ignores protocol. He bounds across the room to offer his dad a big hug, he squeezes him tight, Aaron hugging him back maybe tighter. It's sweet, but you feel like you're intruding.

"Say bye-bye to daddy, Miss L/N." Jack pleads, and you blink.

Bye daddy. And you scold your horrid mind. Jack's waiting expectantly, and it seems his father is as well.

"Goodbye, Mr. Hotchner." you huff out, and he's smirking.

"Goodbye, Miss L/N." he matches your exasperated tone. And then he's leaving, and you're heaving a sigh of relief. Jack's going back to his seat, face just as smug as it could be for someone his age. It takes you a second to float back to Earth, staring at the doorway like he'd come back, but he doesn't. You inhale sharply, good riddance. You shuffle slowly to the door, shutting it as you soon address your class.

"We're gonna talk about Symbolism today." you announce, and the kids who were far from listening finally take you in. "Does anyone want to take a guess as to what Symbolism is?" you question, and a flurry of hands shoot up in the air. There's one girl, little Mary, who looks like she's doing the pee pee dance as she tries to get you to choose her. So you do, "Go ahead and give it a shot, Mary."

"Miss L/N, are you gonna marry Jack's dad?"

Maybe today was the wrong day for paint and symbolism.

[poisonlove]

Hey, I'm not sure if you're taking requests, but I'm gonna ask anyway.

(Wednesday Addams x female reader)

Reader gets Wednesday a black necklace with a miniature dagger on it for her birthday. While Wednesday secretly loves the gift, she acts like she does not care for the gift. However, she wears it all the time. One day, when she comes into her dorm, she finds the necklace missing and practically hunts down the whole school to find it. Wednesday almost kills someone to get it. Reader sees her acting crazy to find something, and when she asks what it is, she has no choice but to tell her. It ends cute with fluff at the end

I can't write it myself, so I need help❤️

Happy birthday | w.a

Pairing: Wednesday Addams X reader

Status: request

Advertising: fluffy, wednesday cry

Author: sorry for this end

"Happy birthday, Wed," I say with a small smile on my lips.

We were at the only café in Jericho, celebrating Wednesday Addams' 17th birthday. Enid had dragged her there, promising the gothic brunette that it wasn't a birthday party but something strange she wanted to show her.

As soon as Wednesday walked into the café and saw her friends—Thing, Xavier, Eugene, Tyler, and Enid's boyfriend—she shot a glare at her roommate.

"I told you no party," she hissed, but Enid beamed at her.

"This doesn't count as a party," Enid replied, trying to reassure her.

With a resigned sigh, Wednesday approached the table.

"Happy birthday, Addams," Xavier said, grinning ear to ear.

Wednesday didn't even respond.

Wednesday's brown eyes locked onto mine, staring intensely as if trying to read my thoughts.

"I thought at least you wouldn't be involved," she murmured slowly, coldly.

Embarrassment flushed my cheeks.

"It was Enid's idea," I quickly apologized, blushing deeply under Addams' accusatory gaze.

"You know I hate birthdays," Wednesday said, unfazed.

"Think of it as an event bringing you closer to death," I suggested, shivering slightly.

Wednesday raised an eyebrow, considering it for a moment. "Interesting perspective. Though death is the only event I eagerly await, it doesn't make birthdays any less... unbearable."

I smiled shyly, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, at least you have an excuse to receive gifts."

"I detest gifts," she retorted, a touch of coldness in her voice. "They're just useless symbols of unwanted affection."

"I know," I admitted, briefly looking away. "But sometimes it's nice to receive something just because someone cares about you."

Wednesday stared at me intensely, as if trying to read between the lines of my words. "Feelings are overrated," she declared, but there was a slight hesitation in her voice.

The brunette walked slowly towards me and sat down next to me. Wednesday's Notes of Amber and Wood perfume reached my nostrils, and I almost closed my eyes in appreciation.

Enid approached us with enthusiasm, her blue eyes shining brighter than usual."Happy birthday, Weddy," the blonde chirped, almost screaming. I smiled tenderly, watching as Enid rushed towards Addams and hugged her quickly.

Wednesday closed her eyes, enduring her friend's affection.

"You don't mind if we got you gifts, right?" Enid almost asked with guilt, and Wednesday sighed loudly.

"No," she muttered through gritted teeth.

I chuckled timidly, and Wednesday kicked me under the table, silencing me and making me bite my lip hard from the pain.

"I think the whole school knows that you are a girl who likes things like death and torture..." Enid begins shyly.

"Too much," Xavier comments amused.

"So Ajax and I wanted to give you this," says Enid nervously, handing over a package wrapped in black paper.

Wednesday took the package with deliberate slowness, carefully observing every detail of the wrapping. With a precise motion, she slid a nail along the edge of the black paper, meticulously peeling off the adhesive tape. She didn't tear the paper but opened it carefully, as if performing a ritual. Finally, she extracted the contents revealing a romantic novel.

She looked up in confusion and stared intently at the blonde.

"We thought it would be torture for you to read it," the blonde said, and Wednesday smiled imperceptibly.

"Thank you," she said seriously.

Other gifts followed: Tyler gave her a coupon to order her favorite drink for free for a week, Eugene a jar of honey, and Xavier a book on various torture methods.

Wednesday glanced at me sideways, and I shrugged indifferently. I tried to hide my nervousness and continued to maintain eye contact with Wednesday. The latter, seeing nothing strange, returned to look at her friends.

I sighed with relief: I wanted to give her the gift later without anyone around.

At midnight, Wednesday's birthday party had officially become unbearable for the birthday girl, and she asked to return to Nevermore. We walked silently towards Wednesday's and Enid's room, although the latter had gone to sleep with Ajax.

Silence surrounded us, and the gift I had in my pocket burned with each passing second.

I wiped my sweaty hands on my pants and swallowed loudly.

"What's wrong with you?" Wednesday casually asks in front of me.

How did she notice?

"Nothing," I mutter timidly, nervously chuckling.

We arrive in front of her room door, and the brunette turns to look at me curiously. My eyes fix on her face illuminated by the faint moonlight, making me blush recklessly. I had feelings for Wednesday for some time now and hoped Addams wouldn't notice.

"When you laugh in this way you hide something," Wednesday says seriously.

Damn.

"Um..." I start nervously, my heart beating fast against my chest.

"I also have a gift for you," I say timidly.

"Y/n/n," the brunette whispers.

"It's nothing," I immediately justify, knowing Wednesday's general dislike for gifts, especially fancy ones.

I take the small box out of my pocket and hand it to Wednesday, trembling slightly.

Wednesday takes the box with the same meticulous care she applies to every gesture. Her long fingers delicately grasp the adhesive tape and peel it off with surgical precision. The paper unfolds under her hands like petals of a blooming flower, revealing the content. Her cold, calculating brown eyes rest on the black necklace with the tiny miniature dagger.

Despite her habit of hiding emotions, for a brief but intense moment a spark of interest passes through her eyes. Her expression doesn't change, but there's something in the tilt of her head, in the way she holds the necklace between her fingers, that suggests a subtle almost imperceptible appreciation.

"It's... an innocent gift, I swear," my cheeks turn red. "It's an old family heirloom," I justify.

Wednesday looks up from the gift and stares at me intensely. Her face is a mask of impassivity.

She says nothing but moves closer and hugs me timidly, a surprisingly tender gesture for her. The contact makes me hold my breath, and my heart seems to want to explode from my chest. Then, with a light movement, she kisses me on the cheek.I stand still, almost incredulous at what just happened.

Wednesday withdraws, her face still impassive but with a slight warmth in her cheeks.

She was embarrassed.

"Thank you," she murmurs. Then she puts the gift in her pocket and enters her room, closing the door behind her.

I stand there for a moment, trying to process everything. The silence of the hallway envelops me, but inside me, I feel a whirlwind of emotions. I bring a hand to my cheek, still warm from Wednesday's kiss, and smile shyly.

(...)

Days passed slowly, turning into months, and Wednesday remained the enigmatic and somewhat peculiar figure typical of the Addams family.

Despite the time that had passed, I had never seen her wear the necklace I had given her. Initially, I felt disappointed, but then I realized I couldn't blame her. Perhaps I had overstated its importance, making it something too sophisticated and not suited to her style. Maybe for her, it was simply an object of little interest, if not outright distasteful.

I didn't reveal my disappointment because I harbored deep feelings for her. I wanted to continue being her best friend, as I always had been, even though my heart sometimes fluttered in the face of her coldness.

One day, Wednesday's behavior took a completely anomalous turn, and I began to worry seriously about her.

I saw her walking through the school with palpable agitation, scrutinizing every corner, lifting vases, and searching through the garden's grass and fountain. It was clear she was searching for something with an almost frightening determination.

I was so worried that even Enid, usually impassive in the face of Wednesday's eccentricities, seemed unsettled. When I finally managed to talk to her, Enid confided that Wednesday had literally torn apart their room, searching everywhere with excessive fury.

"I swear, y/n, it was terrifying," Enid told me nervously. "I simply asked what she was looking for, and Wednesday yelled at me and pushed me out of the room," she continued, her voice trembling, "and if I had insisted, she would have killed me," she concluded, terrified for her life.

Enid quickly waved goodbye and walked away from me, probably wanting to escape Wednesday's wrath.

It was clear that something serious was happening.

I couldn't understand what could have triggered such a reaction in Wednesday, but the anxiety was starting to affect me too.I decided to walk towards Addams' room, eager to talk to her and understand what was going on.

As I approached, I noticed something glinting in a corner, behind a statue. I raised an eyebrow with curiosity, cautiously approaching. It was the necklace I had given Wednesday.I picked it up and carefully put it in my pocket.

I wanted to meet Wednesday and try to understand what was happening. I also hoped she could give me explanations about why she had thrown away the necklace I had given her; she could have at least returned it.

I walked towards Wednesday's room and raised an eyebrow in confusion, seeing the door half-open, accompanied by a deafening noise coming from inside.

I opened the door slowly and found myself facing a scene of total chaos: overturned beds, the desk turned over with scattered objects everywhere, clothes strewn on the floor, papers scattered everywhere.

I even saw a T-shirt on the window.

It was such complete disorder that it left me speechless for a moment, wondering what could have caused all this in Wednesday's usually tidy room.

Wednesday was hunched over her bed, with Things by her side. "No, Things, I don't care if we've already looked under the bed, help me," she said desperately.

What on earth was she looking for?

"Wednesday?" I called out in confusion.

The gothic girl tensed slowly and turned to look at me. I widened my eyes seeing her bloodshot eyes, mascara running down and marking her cheeks.

She had been crying.

I immediately approached her; why she had thrown away the necklace didn't matter to me now.

Wednesday looked at me with seriousness and anguish, her arms wrapping around my neck in a suddenly needy embrace. The warmth of her body made me shiver, a sensation contrasting with the intensity of the situation.

"Enid told me you were looking for something..." I said, my voice muffled by her embrace."Why didn't you tell me?" I added gently, trying to understand what was troubling her so deeply.

"I could have helped you," I added with a smile that I hoped would reassure her.

Wednesday withdrew slightly and looked at me with eyes reflecting palpable sadness.

"I didn't want... to disappoint you," she confessed, lowering her gaze.

"Why?" I asked, confused and curious about her thoughts.

Wednesday seemed to struggle with herself, a visible conflict in her gaze. After a long moment of silence, she decided to reveal the truth.

"I lost your necklace," she admitted, avoiding my gaze and staring at her shoes with evident discomfort.

So that's what she was looking for...

I smiled broadly and chuckled to myself, confusing Wednesday. The gothic girl stared intensely at me, her eyes darkening at my demeanor, visibly annoyed. Without saying a word, I pulled out the necklace from my pocket, and Wednesday's eyes widened in surprise.

"Where did you find it?" she asked curiously, her tone serious."Behind a statue," I murmured timidly, smiling at the brunette girl.

" I thought you had thrown it away... After all, I've never seen you wear it," I confessed shyly.

Wednesday took the necklace and turned her back to me, moving her braids aside and tilting her neck.

"Will you put it on me?" she asked timidly.

I smiled nervously and timidly approached her, my trembling hands fastening the necklace around her neck over the W necklace that her mother had given her.

Wednesday turned around and looked up to meet my gaze.

"I've always had it... I just didn't want anyone to think I really cared," she confessed quickly.

I knew Wednesday wanted to maintain her reputation as the strange girl at all costs, so I wasn't surprised by her choice to hide it. I looked at Wednesday with curiosity, a small smile creeping onto my lips as I noticed her cheeks blush slightly.

I decided to lighten the mood.

"I'll help you tidy up the room," I said timidly, giving Wednesday a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Never do that again," she said, embarrassed.

"What if I do?" I teased, and Wednesday looked at me calmly.

We began to tidy up the room together; I picked up papers from the floor, sorted some clothes where I found a hoodie I had lent her months ago, while Wednesday organized the desk and her bed.

"Y/n?," Wednesday called me timidly.

I turned with the clothes in my hands and looked at her attentively.

The gothic girl seemed nervous."Even though I kept the necklace hidden... I really care about you," she confessed, and I smiled broadly.

I kept smiling, even though a part of my conscience devilishly whispered that Wednesday was only doing it as a friend. But if she allowed me to be close to her, I would accept it anyway.

"If you lose it again, let me know, okay?" I joked timidly.

Wednesday tilted her head, scrutinizing me carefully.

"I won't lose it again, I swear on Nero," she admitted, and my heart skipped a beat at those words.

She had sworn on her scorpion.

"Good," I said embarrassedly, lowering my gaze to hide my blushing cheeks, my heart beating frantically.

Wednesday observed my embarrassment with curiosity.

"Y/n?," she said slowly, breaking the brief silence. "I'm not good with words, but... thank you. For understanding me."

Her voice was calm but loaded with meaning, and I felt a thrill of emotion run down my spine. It was as if she too was struggling with a part of herself that she rarely showed to others.

"There's no need to thank me," I replied sincerely, lifting my gaze to meet hers. "I'm here for you, Wednesday. Always."

A faint smile touched Wednesday's lips, almost imperceptible but full of gratitude. It was a moment of silent connection between us, a mutual understanding that transcended words.

"I know," she finally said, with a hint of seriousness in her voice. "And I... really appreciate all this. You're the only one who truly knows me."

Those words filled me with warmth.

It was perhaps the first time I heard Wednesday express her gratitude so openly, and I felt privileged to have been welcomed into her reserved inner world.

Oh Wednesday... If you knew what I would do for you. Maybe you would finally let me completely into your cold heart.

[lazarusrisingx]

Alright so this’ll be my first official one shot for this account yippee!! Im starting off with something fluffy cause ya boi hasn’t written fan fics in quite a while (yes i was a fan fic writer before but i wanted to start over cause i abandoned that account tee hee)

summary: A fluffy one shot where sylus teaches you to ride his motorcycle and you..kinda fail at it

also for one shots i think im gonna use MC instead of Y/n as the name? if yall want me to change it for the next one just lmk.

this story also diverges from the actual lore of LADS, its mentioned theyve already had some past ‘romantic’ moments tee hee.

triggers: mentions of scrapes and blood, no serious injuries, motorcycle incident without helmet, uhhhh there isnt really anything triggering so yeah! just pure fluff and scared sylus

might be a bit ooc sylus but im tryna stay true him, also excuse my bad spelling im gonna autocorrect everything but im writing on my phone so don’t judge.

okay lets get it peoples!!

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It was a relatively nice day in the N109 zone. Crime seemed to hold itself for the crisp cool weather that decided to roll in over night. The sky was less murky grey than usual and a few patches of blue peeked through fluffy white clouds. The sun was near setting as MC and a certain silver haired man sat in his office.

“..you want to what?” Sylus asked, not looking away from a manila folder in his hands.

“I want you to show me to ride your motorcycle.” MC repeated.

The tick of the grandfather clock was the only sound that could be heard for a few moments. MC felt for a moment she might want to take back her recquest, but Sylus silently set down the folder he held and leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

He rubbed his eyes, and folded his arms, studying the girl without expression.

“If you do-“

“Your telling me the great wanderer huntress doesnt know how to ride a simple motorcycle?” Sylus interrupted. the edge of his lip quirked up in a slight smirk.

MC narrowed her eyes at him.

“Its not in the training for us to be taught to ride or drive.”

Sylus tilted his head, before speaking again.

“You mean you dont even know how to drive?” It sounded as if he was holding back a laugh.

“Will you teach me to ride or not! I can hire an instructor if you wont.” MC said, purposefully dodging the question of her driving skills.

She had thought about asking Sylus before, but lately the two of them hadnt had a single afternoon to do anything besides… questionably legal missions. It was so nice out that she thought itd be a shame to spend it in this dark and dreary office.

Sylus stood up without a word, dragging his coat off his chair and picking up the manila folder. He punched a code into one of his many safes and placed it inside for safe keeping, and went for the door.

“Are you coming? Or should i roll out a red carpet for you sweetie?”

MC stood up quickly, a smile sliding across her face as she followed him out of the room.

The two walked down the hall of his house quietly. She felt excited, and slightly nervous. Sylus didnt seem like the most compassionate teacher she couldve found. however spending money on an instructor was something she never intended to do in the first place.

Sylus glanced down at her as the two stopped by his room.

“you cant wear shorts, and I cant wear dress pants nor this shirt. Go get changed.” Sylus said as he opened the door.

MC gave him a questioning look as he opened the door for her, leaning against the wall waiting for her to enter.

“I dont have clothes here.” MC stated.

Sylus shook his head, his hand twitched and an invisible force pushed MC forward.

“I had the twins pick something up for you in case you needed to stay here for a while, itll be the third drawer from the bottom sweetie.”

the surprise on MC’s face mustve been obvious, because a quiet chuckle left Sylus.

“Dont look so surprised kitten, we work together enough that if you end up injured under my watch I’m not going to send you home to recover alone.”

“How do you even know my size in pants?” MC asked as she lifted out a pair of jeans. surprisingly they looked as if they would fit quite nicely.

Sylus leaned over her, his chest brushing over MC’s back. He was much warmer than she thought he might be, and the contact sent a slight spark of electric through her. He opened the top drawer of the dresser and produced a pair of black pants and a nice fitted black shirt for himself. MC glanced up to find Sylus peering down at her with a curious expression. Was that a smile she saw? If only for a split second. Sylus lingered against her for a few moments, pretending to look for soemthing else before taking a step back.

“I told them to look in the kids section.” He said.

MC turned to scold him, and found him unbuttoning his dress shirt, his silver hair dangled in front of his eyes as he looked down, the shirt parting just enough to expose a strong muscular chest, before MC promptly turned around her face turning bright red.

“Ill find a bathroom.” She said quietly.

“Straight ahead sweetie.”

She made a bee-line towards it, not looking back to see how Sylus’s eyes followed her, or the smirk on his face as he pulled his shirt off.

MC shut the door behind her, heart pounding in her ears. It was an odd reaction since she had seen him shirtless before. although it was different because this was unexpected.

She wiped the image from her mind and quickly got changed. Sadly, the pants fit her perfectly. MC was truly curious as to how Sylus or the twins figured out her size but it wasnt something she was ready to look into.

MC walked out from the bathroom, Sylus was dressed in all black his shirt was tight enough to show the outline of his abs, and make his arms look incredibly huge.

Sylus was finishing a message to someone on his phone. He glanced up at MC once before he finished the message.

“letting the twins know we will be out for a bit. I expect youd like to go to dinner after we are finished?” Sylus asked.

“mmm sure, I saw a hot po-“

“im picking where we eat. I dont feel like going to linkon tonight.” Sylus interrupted

He stood up and opened the door for the two, motioning for MC to walk out before him. She obliged, and the two walked in silence to his garage. Sitting in a parking spot was his usual black and red bike. The paint shiny from being newly washed, not a speck of rust nor dust decorated the expensive equipment.

“do you atleast know the basics of controls?” Sylus asked.

“theres the clutch, throttle and break. i know that much.” MC responded.

Sylus nodded, he pulled the kickstand up on the bike and began to slowly walk it towards the exit.

“Mine has some.. enhancements, so youll have to go easy on the gas. turning is fairly self explanatory. but as i said before take it very gentle. I dont want a scratch on this bike.”

MC nodded and followed behind him. She was getting nervous now, but she knew Sylus had a decent driveway that she would be able to drive around, that way she could avoid any extra cars or pedestrians. the few times she had driven a car, she had done fairly well, although went a little slower than the speed limit… by ten miles.

If anything, her only worry was annoying sylus with how careful she was!

The two walked out of the small garage and into the cool outside. wind rustled the small trees and birds chirped quietly around them.

“Get on here.”

Sylus held out his hand as he kept the bike steady. MC carefully got into the drivers seat and set her feet on the rests.

“put a foot on the ground so the bike can tilt when i let go.” Sylus said

“like this?”

MC put one foot on the ground, and Sylus let its weight rest on her. It was heavier than expected but nothing she couldnt handle. He took a step back and folded his arms.

“Turn the keys in the ignition, let it roll forward a bit so you know how itll feel.”

MC fumbled with the key for a moment and the engine roared to life. She smiled proudly, and looked to Sylus who was to focused on watching her slowly roll forward.

“Turn the gas a bit, and ride to the edge there, you dont need-“

MC thought she had pressed the gas lightly. she really did. Instead, the bike shot forward across the driveway, pointed not towards the grass, but the exit to the driveway. A scream escaped her as she pulled her foot onto the rests.

The wind ripples through her hair as she sped towards the entrance to the street, the handles wobbled in her hands, and within a second she was flung from the bike.

Metal screeched awfully on concrete as the bike was sent skidding towards her. Her body tumbled over the driveway, the rip of jeans and the feel of gravel driving into her arms didnt feel like much as she watched the bikes path heading straight for her.

MC threw up her hands, curling up expecting to be hit by the skidding motorcycle, but the impact never came.

The sound of heavy footsteps and muffled yelling made her open her eyes. Her vision was blurred, and her ears rang slightly. In front of her was a barrier of black and red smoke, instead of hitting her, the bike had been stopped not a second to soon.

“MC! For fucks sake!” Sylus yelled.

MC began to shake a bit, not from the pain in her arms and legs, nor the throbbing headache from hitting her head. She scrambled to her hands and knees. Sylus was running towards her, an unfamiliar expression on his face. His crimson eyes glowed brightly from using his evol.

“Sylus i-i didnt think itd be so sensitive!”

the barrier dissipated and MCs heart lept into her throat. the bikes previously shiny paint was nearly fully scraped clean, the seat had a few tears in it, the handles previously rubber grip was now worn down to the metal on one side. there was a bend in the rim of one of the wheels.

Tears filled MCs eyes as a mix of anxiety and fear pierced her heart. His bike was ruined! the one thing he had told her not to do was crash this, and less than a minute on it she had!

MC’s hands brushed over the ruined paint job, she barely noticed the blood dripping from her arm or down her hands, nor the pain of dirt being gritted into her badly scraped knees.

“What are you doing, what are you doing?” Sylus asked.

he had dropped to his knees beside her, grabbing a firm hold of both arms, that same unrecognizable expression written all over his face. his grip was firm, but MC didnt look away from the bike.

“Your bike! Sylus is swear i didnt mean to do that! I was gentle l-like you said I didnt think-“

“the bike? the fuck are you on about sweetie look at you!”

His voice was harsh and demanding. his eyes were still glowing crimson as MC finally looked at him. She was trembling badly. finally she noticed the blood now coating his hand and her arm. her lip was also split down the middle, and a cut on her cheek.

“I-ill pay for the bike Sy-“

“the bike? you think i give a fuck about the bike i have ten more just like it.”

He dragged the two of them to their feet.

“but you said-“

“your hurt.” Sylus said plainly.

His eyes scanned her wounds as if he was looking for something.

“Its nothing-“

“we are going back in.” Sylus stated.

in one swift motion he lifted MC off her feet, carrying her like a princess. MC was speechless as he stepped over the bike, walking quickly to get the two of them back into the house.

“You dont care about the bike?” MC asked.

Sylus glanced down at her.

“Why the fuck would i care about a damn object right now.”

MC paused for a moment, she stared up at his face, now noticing a thin layer of sweat over his forehead, his eyes darting back and forth and he looked… pale. was he scared? panicked?

the last thing MC expected from him was concern over a few scrapes and bruises. Well, maybe they werent scrapes. with each step her adrenaline wore off, and throbbing pain came over her entire body.

Sylus brought the two of them to his room, slamming the door open. The twins stood there together, talking back and forth.

“Boss- wait is she-“

“get out.” Sylus said gruffly.

“Boss are you alright? you look-“

“I told you both to get!” Sylus yelled.

The twins looked at the both of them for a moment, before scurrying out of the room.

“They could patch me up sylus you dont have to do this.” MC said quietly. he ignored her as he gingerly set her on the plush comforter.

“sylus the blood, i cant ruin more of your things.”

“why do you think i care about ‘things’ MC. sit down and wait for me. if you can get into your shorts put those on or im taking your jeans off myself.” Sylus said.

MC watched him enter the bathroom and rummage around. She didnt know what to think. of course her first thought was that he would be more concerned for his bike, he had seen her get hurt by wanderers before and hadnt seemed so… upset by it.

She found her shorts on the floor and slowly peeled the ripped jeans off herself and tugged on her shorts. her leg was definatley sore and bruises already began to blossom over her thigh. the concrete had rubbed away quite a bit of skin, blood dripped down her leg and onto the floor now.

without a word sylus came back in, his eyes had finally stopped glowing, and in his arms he held rolls of bandages antiseptics, tape, and cobain.

“i can do this myself Sylus.” MC said

“no.” Was all Sylus had to offer.

a wave of black and red smoke pushed MC back onto his bed. it wasnt as rough as usual, almost like a cushion pressing her into place.

Sylus knelt down in front of her. eyes narrowing as they scanned over her leg.

“shouldve been more careful.” Sylus mumbled.

“i know im sorry.” MC replied

“no, not you. I shouldve been more careful. that bike has enhancements on it, its to much for a beginner i didnt think about it.” He said.

MC grew quiet for a moment.

“well i wont die.” MC said, trying to lighten the mood.

Sylus didnt seem impressed. he hesitated his hands hovering over her leg before he grabbed a damp cloth and began wiping blood from her leg. His hands were calloused from boxing and fighting, but he was much gentler than MC expected.

“you wont die, but you still got hurt.” Sylus said after a moment.

he folded the cloth over itself and cleaned the edges of her wound. He gently brushed one of her scrapes, causing MC to grimace.

“sorry.” he mumbled quietly.

his free hand left the bed where it was planted, and gingerly took hold of hers.

“squeeze when it hurts, you wont harm me sweetie.” He said. His crimson eyes flicked to hers making a bolt of electric shoot through MC’s heart. she hesitated, before giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

sylus’ shoulders relaxed a bit after this. he picked up a new cloth, and doused it in antiseptic.

“it has lidocaine in it, but it might sting a bit.” Sylus said

Thankfully, he didnt try to clean the wound in sections. he paused for a moment and pressed the cloth firmly to her scrapes. MC grunted and squeezed his hand. When she looked back at him he was gently rubbing his thumb against the uninjured portion of her leg, looking at her with that oddly concerned expression.

“better?” he asked.

MC nodded her head letting out a breath. He lifted the cloth, now that the area was numb he was able to thoroughly clean the bits of dirt out. the process was repeated over the second patch of scrapes on her calf. Sylus slowly wrapped her leg in cobain and gauze, before sitting on the bed beside MC.

“are you alright sylus?” MC asked.

He had kept his usual snarky comments to himself the past few minutes and it was slightly worrying. Sylus turned his head to her and looked her up and down.

“you shouldve worn a helmet.” He said quietly

“well i wasnt intending to drive more than five feet.” MC replied.

a small smirk came across Sylus’ face.

“five feet? I thought youd have more confidence in yourself sweetie.” Sylus said.

MC laughed quietly and shook her head.

“my teacher didnt seem to have much confidence ‘ride to the grass’ i beileive you said.” MC replied.

Sylus quirked up an eyebrow.

“it seems i was right doesnt it?”

He gestured to her still injured arm, and held up a clean cloth.

“still got another spot to take care of sweetie.” He said.

MC groaned quietly, but turned so he would have a better angle for it. She looked away and waited for him to begin cleaning the wound. instead he leaned towards her, his hand slipping around to the back of her head and pulling her forward. MC nearly protested, but Sylus placed his hand on her back after resting her head to his chest.

She could hear his heart, beating extremely fast for someone so fit.

“just… a moment.” Sylus said quietly.

MC practically held her breath for a moment, before taking in air. his cologne smelled nice, a mix of fresh spices and expensive cigars. the muscles under her head her soft but firm. his arm resting around her body in a hug. Sylus was hugging her.

tentatively, MC put her good arm around him. it felt right, her anxiety and worry began to slowly melt away the longer they stayed like this. her eyes grew heavy, and she began to relax more and more against him. he was so solid, his chest rose and fell under her, slowing down after a moment or so.

“dont worry about the bike sweetie. really. im more concerned about the fact you were… injured.”

MC smiled slightly.

“The great leader of onychinus is concerned for me?” MC asked

a chuckle vibrated through Sylus’ chest. he almost sounded releived.

“more than youd know MC.” Sylus said quietly.

MC’s heart fluttered slightly. she closed her eyes as Sylus began to move again, his free hand found the back of her head, beginning to rub her hair gently as he pressed the cloth to the side of her arm. It wasnt long before the two had to seperate to allow sylus to wrap her arm.

“Why dont we order food tonight. I dont really feel like going out again.” MC said.

Sylus cleaned up the bloody cloths and nodded his head. he began to make his way towards the bedroom door.

“you pick the spot, ill pay.” Sylus said.

“absolutely not, i just trashed your bike-“

Sylus stood up and in a few strides crossed the room to stand in front of her, he leaned down and tilted her chin up to make MC look at him.

“how many times do i have to say that i dont care about the bike, just that you dont have a damn head injury?” He asked.

MC stared up at him for a moment, Sylus brought her face a little closer, speaking quietly now.

“I got you hurt today MC. The least i can do is pay for a damn meal.” He said.

MC couldnt help but look between his eyes and lips. was she insane to think about kissing him now? they were so close, and it wouldn’t be the first time one of them had made an attempt like that. Sylus scanned her face. did he just lean in more?

There was a knock at the door.

“Boss? we were just wondering if you needed us to get the bike out of the driveway.” One of the twins said.

Sylus looked dissapointed, and slightly annoyed. he released MC and turned away from her, going to the door and opening it.

“Ill come out and help you, one if you dispose of these. MC, you might want to change your shirt. Ill be in the living room when your done, sweetie.” Sylus said.

MC was left alone in his room. bright red blush creeped over her face as she slumped back on his bed. She was cursing herself slightly. Part of her was angry she even thought of kissing him, the other half was angry she didnt.

She flopped over onto her stomach groaning loudly before she sat up again.

Another uneventful night of eating in.

———————————————————

maybe ill make a smutty part 2 to this one? maybe not straight smut but some good steamy kisses and things like that idk.

uhhhhh yeah! i havent written in a little while so i dont know how good this is or isnt!

if yall have any ideas for other oneshots then just lmk. im currently working on the storyline for a yandere!sylus x reader fic so i might drop some teasers for that when i can.

in the meantime ill alternate between fluff and smut, i can do some sad stories to but they gotta have good endings cause i cant stand my mans to be sad like that.

also gonna work on some zayne material because i love my mans zayne just as much as sylus if not a bit more. i feel like he doesnt get enough love fr.

okay byyyyyee hopefully this was good.

please credit me if you share this story

[subhumanselflover]

Hellooooo Marrrrr!!! I have a request!! Can we have a lockheart (Elphelt x Aba) drabble please? Ive been seeing a lot of them and grgrgdgdhdkdk I love them dearly 😭😭😭

Bedman anon requests something other than Romeo fluff, 2024

(Does this revoke my title?)

note: BEDMAN ANON YOURE CRAZY FOR THISS. ive been wanting to write lockheart i love them and i love their ship name i’m so on it. thank you for this i wanted an excuse to write them and this actually might cure my writer’s block. also this is more hurt/comforty than initially intended.. idk what happened to paracelsus, that’s up to you! also half of this authors note is like a month old. okay. enough yapping from me, enjoy!

A.B.A./Elphelt fluff drabble!

When A.B.A. turned up on Elphelt's doorstep in the rain, Elphelt almost wasn't certain what to do with the other woman. She knew, however, that there was no way she could turn away a friend in need!

Circumstances irrelevant, A.B.A. had been staying in Elphelt’s little apartment, mostly sleeping on the couch, or the floor for her own comfort. She didn’t know why the floor appealed so much better to her, but Elphelt didn’t mind when she found the green-haired woman curled up on the living room floor, overly fluffy blanket tossed slightly aside.

It was rare that A.B.A. wanted to eat, but sometimes she would steal a little bit of food from Elphelt’s meals. She felt bad, but what she didn’t know was that Elphelt had been making sure to cook enough for her. Something made her feel like a burden.. but Elphelt was careful to make sure she was taken care of, trying to make it less obvious so that the other woman wouldn’t feel as bad.

They didn’t talk much in the beginning. In fact, A.B.A. didn’t speak at all. Elphelt did her best to start up conversations, to boost A.B.A.’s mood, but it was rare for her to get much of a response.

The course of events as A.B.A. stayed with Elphelt lead to a night where the bright eyed metal vocalist heard soft sobs coming from the living room. Curled up in her own bed, she was worried, but didn’t want to set off anything worse, so she stayed in her bed as her door remained unlocked. When the sobs died down to sniffles, Elphelt heard feet shuffling slowly, and saw a shadow in the space between her bedroom door and the carpet.

Knock… knock…

Elphelt heard two soft, separated knocks on her bedroom door, faint sniffles echoing with them.

“It’s unlocked! Come in, A.B.A.!” Elphelt projected softly.

The door creaked open to reveal a sad, soggy looking, green haired woman with tears drying in her eyes, in an oversized shirt that didn’t belong to her, wiping her eyes and sniffling.

Her tears triggered something in Elphelt, causing the woman to quickly zip out of bed and grab onto A.B.A. immediately. “Ohh, come here Abby…” Elphelt wrapped her arms around the taller woman, who had slouched into her arms.

"Abb...y?" A.B.A. muttered, confused. No one had ever given her a nickname before, let alone such a cutesy one. "You don't mind a nickname, do you? I can just call you your name-- but that's not super duper important right now! What's super duper important is that you're crying! Come here, come here!" Elphelt pulled her even tighter, squishing firmly against A.B.A..

As she was pulled close, the homunculus woman buried her face into Elphelt's shoulder, hiding her face and letting a few tears fall. Her eyes widened, however, as Elphelt scooped her up and carefully brought her to sit on her fluffy, pink bed. Handing her a soft, white stuffed rabbit, she began to ramble to the other woman.

"Okay, so you know you don't have to tell me anything, but if you, y'know, wanna say something! I'm here, and you can stay here as long as you need! Consider me a shoulder to cry on! You don't have to be alone, whatever's going on!" As she said her last sentence, Elphelt grabbed A.B.A.'s hands and smiled gently at her.

A.B.A. looked at her, and wrapped her arms around her tight, letting a few more sobs spill out, before trying to clear herself up in order to speak. "Can I.. stay in your bed?" A.B.A. asked, trying her best not to immediately regret the request due to shame. "I'm so tired..." She whined a bit, trying to wipe her tears a bit more.

Elphelt consoled A.B.A. in the most gentle way she could, the two ending up curled up in Elphelt's cozy, soft bed, Elphelt nuzzling into A.B.A.'s neck gently. Warmth.. A.B.A. hadn't felt so warm in a long time. The softer side of the metal vocalist's voice began to fill the room, as she sang something soothing, something of a lullaby.

A.B.A. got quiet, listening to Elphelt's singing, feeling her thoughts and tears slow a bit, until suddenly the room was quiet, except for a soft yawn from Elphelt, who was nuzzling closer to A.B.A., perhaps ready to go to bed, until she felt the homunculus's wide eyes looking over at her.

"Sing to me again... please?"

[vilandel]

Within Your Nacre

Summary It was such a rare colour, in the shade of nacre, shining differently each time Lital moved even only slightly. Fuegoleon could spend hours by just looking into her nacreous eyes.

Lost within her nacre…

A/N I've wrote this because I stumbled upon Fuegoleon bashing one day and I needed to give hims something good and fluffy, because he deserves it. It was also a good excuse to write Lital, my very first Black Clover OC.

Ao3 link

♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣

Fuegoleon loved his job as a Magic Knight and as a squad captain. He really did. But even he had to admit that there weren’t only good sides or advantages about it. It would have been odd if his work was just perfect, to be honest.

He cared a lot for this country, for the people living in it. He would be a bad Magic Knight captain and potential candidate to be the next Wizard King if he wouldn’t care. Even more, it was also personal. For his squad, for his siblings and his house, for his friends, his rival… and especially his beloved wife.

Lital.

Just thinking of her made Fuegoleon smile and the exhausting day of work he had behind him seemed suddenly less unnerving. Lital was wonderful, he would knew that after having loved her for ten years and won’t stop loving her.

Fuegoleon hoped that she was alright. Lital had been quite nauseous since a few days. It was probably nothing, he hoped. But he didn’t like to see the one he loved being unwell. Who would like to see their loved ones unwell, honestly?

Like him, Lital was a Magic Knight, member of the Crimson Lions, even though she only became a knight at eighteen. She had her reasons, given that she was a bastard – legitimated, but always remembered of her roots – and that she lived the first years of her life in the slums. But she was one of his best knights and even before they finally get a grip of themselves to confess their love for each other, Fuegoleon had knew that he could trust Lital, that he could count on her. It was the same the other way around.

She didn’t came to work today, due to her nausea. Instead, she decided to go see Owen. He could tell Lital what she had and once he would knew it, Fuegoleon could be able to finally taking care of her properly.

A soft hiss interrupted his train of thoughts as Fuegoleon reached his and Litals chambers within the Vermillion Palace. Today had also been quite exhausting for Salamander as well and knowing his spirit friend, he was probably impatient to get into a good fire to relax and rest.

“I’ve ordered that a fire would be done into your room. Go rest there, you can join us for dinner later.”

Salamander hissed thankfully, before he immediately flew away towards his room. People were a bit irritated that he would give a spirit his own room, but Fuegoleon didn’t care. Salamander became a friend since the day they bonded and this was what mattered to him. He owed Salamander quite as well.

Fuegoleon now moved towards his own bedroom. Well, his and Litals. He just couldn’t wait to see his wife.

And there she was, sitting in one of the armchairs, at the window, a book on her lap. Her dark purple and curly mane fell freely on her bare shoulders, with her long bangs elegantly braided out of her face. Her delicate profile, her long and slender fingers holding the book she was reading, her frame that fit so well in his arms.

Lital was for him the most beautiful woman in the world and not only on a physical level. She was also brave, calm but also passionate, truly kind-hearted despite her heavy past. Fuegoleon was so lucky to be love by her.

“Dear.”

“Fue, you’re home!”

Lital immediately let go of her book, got up and within the next second, she was embracing him. Fuegoleon hugged her back without any hesitation, careful to not burn her with his fire arm, but thankfully he had excellent control over it.

After a while, Fuegoleon let a bit go of her, to look into her gorgeous eyes. Everything about Lital was beautiful, but her eyes were simply mesmerizing. It was such a rare colour, in the shade of nacre, shining differently each time Lital moved even only slightly. Fuegoleon could spend hours by just looking into her nacreous eyes.

Lost within her nacre…

Lital was beautiful in each possible way, but her eyes were maybe Fuegoleons favourite trait of his beloved wife.

“You’re making those eyes again.”

“Those eyes?”

“Like you’re looking at me as if I’m one of the seven wonders of the world. Or maybe the eighth one. It’s kinda surprising that you’re still doing it after we are a couple for even more than a decade.”

“I can’t help myself. It is so easy and wonderful to lose myself within your nacre.”

Lital blushed while smiling. Even after ten years, she was still blushing with happiness so easily when he complimented her. Fuegoleon remembered how Lital had difficulties to accept them before they got together. And how shy they had been about their two-sided feelings at first. Without sister Theresa, they would have continued within their shyness for years.

Fuegoleon was forever grateful to his ancient mentor to have helped him with his love.

“Sorry I wasn’t able to support you today with the nobles delegation,” Lital said as she lead him towards their bed. “Vanessa couldn’t come either for Nozel. She said that the hypocrisy of the nobles might be bad for her pregnancy.”

“Maybe she is not really wrong about that,” Fuegoleon replied with an amused smile. Nozel and Vanessa were now married since not that long, something the majority of nobility was still trying to recover from. And the fact that Vanessa had been a pregnant bride. Of course, the wildest rumours had been running, but for once, nobles were trying to hold it back, more or less. Not only because Nozel and Vanessa were completely unfaced by the rumours, but also because the future baby was in their eyes a new path to enter somehow into royalty. It was a never ending story.

“That delegation was a handful, my dearest. I think even William and Kaiser were close to lose patience with those nobles and to be honest, in the end none of us had any idea about what they wanted. There were too many contradictions. Of course we refused their request and the nobles wasted hours for nothing.”

Lital put a soft peck on his cheek, a comforting touch. “I’m sorry all of you had to go through that. I know that it’s belongs to your job as captains, but that kind of duty shouldn’t even be considered as one. How was Charlotte? She is a captain too, but very pregnant. Wasn’t it too difficult for her?”

Fuegoleon chuckled. If nobles were already shocked about Nozel and his pregnant witch bride, having Charlotte doing quite the same had been probably even a bigger shock. Yami and Charlotte planned to get married in December and Charlotte would be very close to the end of her own pregnancy. It was bold, but Fuegoleon knew that if was a couple that couldn’t wait much longer, it would be those two.

“Yami and Charlotte left right after the delegation were out of the room, it had been certainly exhausting for her. But she was very proud and daring the whole ordeal. If I learned anything today, is that pregnant women can be very, very frightening sometimes.”

Lital laughed and Fuegoleon couldn’t help but feel a wave of love wash over his heart at the sight. While living her first years in the slums, his dear wife had gained a very strong endurance, but she always kept a kind heart and joy. Her stepmother, who took her out of poverty and raised her as her own child, also made sure of that.

But still, Lital was also very able to be frightening when she wanted to. She was even able to not be afraid of Mereoleona.

How much he loved her and was proud of her.

Litals laughing calmed down, there were even happy tears at the corner of her eyes. How beautiful it looks within her nacre, especially when the last sunlight fell on it.

“You seem fine, Lital. Did Owen give you something against your nausea?”

“Oh, about that, darling…”

Lital didn’t stop smiling, but now she was blushing, almost nervous and excited, maybe? There was some special shine, one he never seen before. And only Heavens knew how learned each shade of Litals nacreous eyes by heart.

Fuegoleon frowned. Was something wrong? Probably not, he would have knew and Lital never hid important secrets from him. He saw her holding her belly, as if it was something precious…

Wait a minute!!

“You are… We’re going… I’m going… We will have a baby?”

“Yes!”

Fuegoleon was frozen, he was shocked of course. But there weren’t any doubts or fear in his mind and his heart. Just joy, growing joy.

He almost couldn’t believe it. But only almost.

A child… They were having a baby, he would become a father…

Of course they had talked about it, of course it had been in his mind. Of course he wanted children, to have a family on his own. But they hadn’t planned it yet, they were only married since this spring.

Was this really that important? Of course not. Nozel and Vanessa or Yami and Charlotte were becoming parents as well, their situations had even been way more complicated than his own. But the four of them were still happy to have babies.

And this kind of happiness was exactly what Fuegoleon was feeling right now.

“When?”

“According to Owen, our child might be born at the end of April or the start of May. We still have some time. But yes, my nausea and the fact that I couldn’t handle your grandfather’s strong cologne was due to… that.”

Fuegoleon couldn’t hold himself anymore, he pulled Lital into a tight hug. “Thank you, my darling. Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me? I’m not the only who will become a parent, you know.”

“But I’m so blessed to have you. You and the little one,” Fuegoleon smiled, stroking her belly slowly. Their child was in there, already loved.

Fuegoleon softly cupped his wife’s face, looking lovingly into the shining nacre of her irises, before pulling Lital into a deep and slow kiss, putting in it all his love for her and for their still unborn child.

Yes, he couldn’t be more blessed right now.

A few months later, at the last of April, Fuegoleon and Lital Vermillion became parents of a strong, adorable baby girl, who had her mother’s nacreous eyes and her fathers red hair, plus the special red eyelines which was so typical of the Vermillion fire siblings.

They gave her the name Esclarmonde.

Esclarmonde Vermillion.

[esta-elavaris]

Just wondering if you’d be able to share some tips on writing? Your fics are legitimately some of my all time faves, and when I was a teen a dabbled in fanfic writing but I’ve never been a strong writer if I’m being honest. But I have a fic idea that I really wanna try and write since I can’t find anything else with this specific trope 😅 would be amazing if you could give some advice on how to improve!

Thank you so much!! 💜 A lot of this is just off the top of my head but I hope some of it is useful -- good luck with your fic!

Okay so first of all one of my favourite pieces of advice is something you're literally already following by taking on an idea without being totally sure how to go about it. That's when a project always ends up being a good one, and that's what makes you improve ten times faster than like, "easy" ideas that don't have any intimidation factor to them. I'm always happiest with the fics I didn't know I'd be able to pull off in the beginning, and my crap ones are always the ones where I go in confident.

Read a lot and read broadly - books, not just fanfic. You'll end up reading a lot of stuff you didn't like, but you'll know WHY you didn't like it and it'll inform the kind of decisions you make with your own writing. And, better than that, you'll also find a lot of stuff that you didn't expect to like but actually did. Plus it opens up so many avenues for ideas to flow in from unexpected sources, even from stuff like autobiographies. And like, I think a lot of people underestimate that kind of thing because they'd go "well I'm writing romantasy, why would I need to read horror books?" but then they have no idea how to handle tense, spooky, or even angsty scenes when they do crop up - and those little moments of genre-hopping make a story feel real, anyway, because it's more true to life. Real life isn't permanently fluffy, or comedic, or even depressing all of the time without any let up, and like? That's why the best pieces of media are so good? LOTR has strong elements of fantasy (duh) but also comedy, romance, action, drama, and even bits of horror all at once and that's why it's so vivid because so does life (although in a far less dramatic way, for me at least 💀 idk what other folk get up to).

If you read consciously (critically?), too, you can go and seek out how your favourite writers handle things like exposition, or the bits that serve just to get the characters from point A to point B, or even more minor details like dialogue tags. I find that really helpful because it reminds you that not every sentence has to be like? Groundbreaking or even particularly good? "She walked over to the chair and sat down" is fine, it's golden, it serves a purpose, but when you get too in your head about wanting something to be great, it's easy to forget that and get too hung up on little throwaway lines.

Also people are gonna be sick of me saying this but the best thing I've ever done for my writing is writing every day, as a rule. If I could only ever give one piece of writing advice ever again, it'd be that. I do think folk lean too much towards the "any time the vibe is slightly off don't write a word! self care!!!" thing and uhhh not writing every single time you can find a minor excuse not to is going to be way worse for you than forcing a page down when you don't particularly want to and the real self care is the fic we forced ourselves to write along the way. I started Little By Little juuuuust before I started daily writing, I think, and comparing that to stuff I was even writing just one year later shows how quickly it forced me to improve. It's like a muscle, the more you work it, the stronger it gets - and if you show up every day, the ideas will too.

I know there's not much like? Technical advice here but honestly I don't have any of that to give? I don't approach chapters like "ah, yes, this one shall begin with dialogue because that provides an element of (literary term that I'm too tired to use as an example) which sets things up nicely for (other literary term I don't have enough brain cells to conjure)", I'm not that technical or that smart about it, if I do try to approach things that way it doesn't feel organic, I'm just out here vibing and feeling my way through it. But like I said, if you read enough and write enough, you get used to that and your gut will tell you which way to take things.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Pretty metal [E. M]

Eddie Munson x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: domestic stuff only, fluff and eddie is an Aries king because I say so

A/N: I started writing this since Joseph was backstage with Metallica and just CAN'T finish it. It was so frustrating and it's not very good, but at least it's done <3

It was March, the cool air outside was hitting you all over and your back was resting against the worn porch chair. You loved evenings with Eddie, just the two of you being completely lazy and loving.

"Honey" you pronounced, looking down a little to meet the gaze of your boyfriend, who rested his head on your lap. One of your hands was stroking his hair and the other was resting comfortably on his stomach where he was holding her.

“Mhm?” he hummed sleepily, because after the delicious food and thanks to your caresses he had already begun to fall asleep.

"Your birthday is coming up" you murmured softly and tenderly. Eddie wasn't someone who put a lot of importance on a birthday, but you got completely excited every time the date came, even when you were just friends "Have you thought about what you want as a present?" you exclaimed excitedly, but he denied with a smile.

"Why do you always ask about that?"

“Because I want to give you something good! You never let me pamper you, so if I'm going to give you something I want to make sure it's something you like” you explained, slightly amused. Eddie hated that you spent money on him and you knew that very well, so his birthday was always an excuse to take the bills out of your piggy bank and spend them on whatever he wanted. He always asked for little things and you ended up complementing them with something, but this year you wanted it to be special. It's not always 20 years, right?

"You don't need to buy me anything at all, just wrap yourself in a bow and I'll be happy," he replied, looking down at you. His brown eyes were so deep and sweet that you could look at them for a lifetime.

“You have to ask me something, Eddie. A new cassette, clothes, shoes, things for your guitar, some D&D, whatever you want” you listed, hoping he would at least blurt out some information. But your boy, as kind as only he was, rose a little and crushed his lips to yours in a soft caress.

"A kiss"

"Huh?"

"I want you to give me a kiss" he murmured, very close to your face, while he smiled from ear to ear.

"I kiss you like a thousand times a day, ask me for something else" you laughed, but he shook his head violently, causing his hair (already fluffy) to mess up and hit your face a little.

“Nope. I want a kiss. A great one"

"A great one?"

"Uh-huh," he mumbled with a shrug. He was not very used to receiving gifts and not asking for them either, because a part of him always felt guilty for thinking that another person had spent something as difficult to obtain as money on him. Much less would he dare to ask you for something.

“A kiss” you grumbled, feeling a little frustrated at his request. He smiled again and fell on your chest, but not before leaving a resounding kiss on your lips.

“Untangle my hair, will you, sweetie? A while ago I was almost in dreamland” he exclaimed, so you raised your hand and continued with your past action. It didn't take long for Eddie to fall asleep listening to your heartbeat, but you used all that time to think about how you could turn that kiss into the best gift of your life.

You were just hoping something would come to you. And soon.

"I mean, it's not like they aren't ever going to go back to Indiana, right?" Eddie murmured, seeking to give himself some comfort.

A few days ago, the news had come out in the newspapers:

SUNSHINE PROMOTIONS PRESENTS

Ozzy Osbourne: The Ultimate Sin Tour

With special guest METALLICA

Ozzy and Metallica on the same stage? In Indiana? it was obvious that Eddie had gone completely insane. The guy had waited patiently for the tickets to go on sale and he'd driven to Indianapolis to get them, but when he came back empty-handed with a sad expression you were there to give him a hug.

"We can find a reseller, my love"

“And that they scam us? Or charge double or triple for tickets? No thanks,” he murmured despondently. You knew he wanted to cry, you could tell by the sound of his voice, but you just ran your hand gently down the length of his back in an attempt to make him feel better “Anyway it's… it's stupid, it's just a concert. There are worse things than not going to a concert” he exclaimed with a shrug.

For the next few days Eddie was a little sad, but nothing to worry about. Occasionally he would blurt out a joke, a comment about how deep down his lack of tickets affected him, or even a complaint about how unfair life was sometimes, but you were able to keep him in check on that matter.

Time flew by and when you least expected it, it was less than a week before your boy's birthday. You had asked your parents for permission to sleep over with him and you were eating the Nutella-filled pancakes that Eddie had made for you, while you watched him dance 'Take on me' from the kitchen.

You let out a laugh when you saw it; he was wearing loose blue boxers and a soft t-shirt, his hair tied up with one of your scrunchies in a messy bun.

"What more could a girl ask for than her own sexy cook?" he asked vainly, making you laugh from your spot. He served the four pancakes on his plate and turned off the burner on the stove, sitting in front of you at the bar, while he watched you attentively. "You have a bit of…" he started to say, touching his cheek. You passed your hand over that place and you didn't feel anything, but he insisted "Yes, right there" he said reaching out to touch you with his finger full of Nutella.

"Eddie!" you yelled, while he laughed out loud.

"Oops, let me help you clean up," he murmured with mock concern, walking a couple of steps to where you were. But he didn't use his hand, instead he dropped his head in your direction and his lips connected with your cheek. You laughed throughout the process, feeling the tip of his tongue picking up all the cream while he held your waist. When he finished you felt him spread kisses all over your face that made you blush "Pretty, pretty" he said at the end, shortly before stealing a kiss on your lips "You taste like Nutella" he murmured excitedly, which made you smile.

“Go to dinner, I have a surprise for you later”

"Uuuh," he crooned, raising his eyebrows coquettishly. He did as you said and continued eating while the two of you struck up another friendly conversation. You asked her how her day was, you talked a bit about yours too, and most of the time you giggled. When you picked up the dishes and put them in the sink to wash them, Eddie hugged you, your back bumping into his chest. "Are you going to give me my surprise yet?" he murmured close to your ear, his hands planting on your abdomen and his lips nibbling absently on one of your shoulders.

"Don't get excited cowboy, it's nothing that involves you naked" you laughed. You finished cleaning and separated to walk in the direction of your backpack, with him following you like a lost puppy.

"Then?"

"You remember that your birthday is near, right?" you asked and he nodded. You took an envelope out of your backpack and hid it behind your back while looking at it "Well, I was thinking that we could do something the night before"

"And what do you have in mind?"

"See for yourself" you exclaimed with a smile, trying to contain your emotion, while you extended said paper envelope. Eddie looked confused for a second, but then he took it between his fingers and opened it to remove the contents. They were a couple of pink slips of paper, which he had to read twice to make sure he hadn't imagined it.

"What is this?" he asked, staring at what he was holding in his hand.

Ozzy Osbourne with special guest Metallica. Market SquareArena. Tuesday, April 8. 7:30 PM

"What does it look like?" you murmured with a small smile. When you imagined that moment you thought Eddie would scream with excitement or jump up and down or any of his weird displays of joy. But he was just standing in the middle of the room, with the palest face you've ever seen on him “My God, you're starting to scare me. Didn't you like them? Because we can still give them to someone”

"If you dare to give away these tickets, I swear I'll kill myself," he said immediately. He finally looked at you and at that moment you watched all the emotions explode within him and the huge smile that grew on his face was answer enough for you. Eddie practically lunged at you to grab both cheeks for a kiss that took your breath away. “How the hell… you…? Y/N is this real?

“Of course it's real! Do you think I'm cruel enough to joke about it?" you laughed and he looked at the tickets again as if he needed to check that they were real.

“We're going to see Ozzy and Metallica…” he said out loud, a smile painting his face “We're going to see Ozzy and Metallica! Did you hear that?” he yelled, opening the trailer door and yelling even louder, "My girlfriend is taking me to see Ozzy and Metallica, motherfuckers!"

"Shut up freak!" someone yelled somewhere, but Eddie just laughed out loud.

"Come in now," you asked amused, fearing that someone would come out to claim, while you pulled him by the hand "So you like my plans?"

“I LOVE your plans my precious sunshine” he replied as he pulled you towards him and covered your face, neck, and anywhere he could touch with kisses “Although you know it wasn't necessary. Were they very expensive?”

"Oh, shut up. It was breaking my heart to see you so sad” you laughed, pulling him through your shirt to give him a soft kiss on the lips “And the price doesn't matter, don't even think about it”

"I love you very much"

“I love you too, Ed”

The days passed and when you least expected it, you were already in a huge line outside the arena, holding Eddie's hand and watching him jump from one leg to the other with a little impatience.

The van was parked somewhere around there, with a couple of suitcases in the back so you could sleep in there. Eddie had personally chosen your clothes and you had let him, even allowing him to do your makeup. It was his day, you wanted him to be happy.

“There's a lot of people,” he observed, looking over the heads in line. He was wearing (not surprisingly) a Metallica T-shirt and had given you an Ozzy one that was just a little too big for you, which you fixed by tucking it into a nice black skirt. You and the boy both wore boots, but he kept his usual ripped knee pants. "Do you think we have a good spot?"

"Let's sneak to the front row or he'll stop calling me Y/N," you said decisively, making him laugh. He leaned down a little to give you a quick kiss, too happy for everything that was happening, and then moved again like a restless child.

The next few hours were too intense. All you remember is walking in with him and losing him at some point in the night. And you didn't lose it spatially, but spiritually. Eddie was totally ecstatic during the concert, a little from the excitement of hearing two of his favorite artists and a little from the weed everyone was smoking in there. The boy screamed, cried, and jumped and you couldn't be happier.

When you walked out of there he was in shock and yet when you walked to the van and sneaked into the back to kiss him, he was still pale. Of course things escalated quickly and maybe it was the effects of the drug, but Eddie felt that he had had the best sex of his life. It wasn't until it was late at night and you were still awake that he finally seemed to react.

"That was so fucking crazy," he exhaled. You laughed into his chest and stood up a bit so you could look at him.

"You had fun?"

"Of course yes! Everything was so great and we were so close and they sang my favorites and ugh” he interrupted himself, covering his face with both hands “I don't even know how to describe it, it's like I got high on three different things” he exclaimed, making you laugh again.

"And you're forgetting something, handsome," you said quietly. You reached out to take out a twinkie that you had stored in your backpack and a small candle, while you stole the lighter from your boyfriend's pocket "It's already your birthday"

It even seemed like he had forgotten that, because you saw him widen his eyes as if it really was a surprise. You sat down and sang to him (rather off key) seeing a huge smile lit by the fire in the candle. When he turned it off, you clapped your hands and gave him your corresponding half of the cake.

“Thank you, Y/N”

“Do you think this is a good time to give you your gift? You know, that super ultra-special kiss you asked me for” you smiled. He chuckled at that and nodded with a blush staining his cheeks, while you leaned in to taste those lips that tasted like vanilla filling. You didn't know and he wouldn't tell you, but his birthday wish had been that this night would last forever.

TAG LIST: @sweetdayme4427 @smol-book-nerd @Ilikewomendealwithit @harringt8ns @katsukis1wife @ilovereadingfanfics

[obeiii-mee]

MC had a bad day or they’re dealing with a bad loss from a loved one. So they decide to seek comfort from the Brothers! But they don’t do it in a normal way, they just barge in the room where the brothers are all relaxing or hanging out at before MC just busts in getting their attention and they go “I need a hug 🥺”. Let’s see the some fluffy hc’s of the brothers comforting MC 🥰

And how could they not want to hug their cute human that is literally 3 seconds away from breaking down into tears?

The Brothers Comforting MC After A Bad Day:

————————————

You’re right, they wouldn’t be able to resist, they love their human too much 😌

*soBS* I want to hug one of them so bad rn

Thank you for the request, I love writing fluffy HCs, it’s my weak spot and it gives me serotonin. I hope you have a nice day/night!! Uh, it’s sort of implied that MC is slightly shorter than them so sorry if that’s a problem-

————————————

Notes: Fluff, mentions of loss and dead family members/friends, mostly comfort though, short HCs

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beezlebub and Belphegor.

————————————

Lucifer:

-He doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t really need to because him just being there, arms wrapped around you and hands lightly running up and down your back, is worth more words than any sort of verbal consolation he could’ve given you and because of this, you feel at ease

-His touch is firm but gentle and you relax almost immediately, burying your head against his chest and feeling him press a kiss on top of your hairline, tightening your hold on him

-He already told his brothers to back off because the last thing he wanted was for you you to get overwhelmed by their insensitivity so you two were left in the living room by yourselves

-In a bit of an awkward position though, because you were both standing and after a while, it was clear a hug wasn’t going to be enough

-That’s his excuse as to why he picked you up bridal style five minutes later and carried you all the way to his bedroom, a place he knows his siblings won’t ever trespass without his permission and somewhere he can shield you from any prying eyes while you’re in this vulnerable state

-At this point, he was basically cradling you like a baby, having you sit on his lap and waiting for you to tire yourself out until you couldn’t cry anymore and watching you slip into that hiccuping stage you get after a breakdown

-Lucifer is obviously going to ask what happened, but whether you answer him or not is up to you because he’s not one to push matters if he sees you’re uncomfortable talking about it

-However, he might insist if he concludes that it’s affecting you and your well being and that’s how you know usually know he’s worried

-His voice is soft though and just listening to it makes you want to tell him everything, whether it’d be something as annoying as a small inconvenience you stumbled across that day or the death of a relative, you feel welcomed enough to spill everything

-Even if you decide not to, he’ll stay with you until you feel better, until you’re no longer crying or shaking or anything of the sort. He speaks occasionally, almost soothingly about how important you are to him and how capable you are of overcoming anything in your way. For the most part, however, he remains quiet and allows you to mull over your thoughts, willing to forget about his paperwork just to let you cling to him for a few hours

-Maybe later, when you’re no longer as distressed, he could get the full story out of you and help you overcome whatever problem you’re having trouble facing but for now, he understands all you need is for him to be there

“MC?” He calls your name out because he was thinking that maybe you had fallen asleep but he realised that was not the case when you looked up at him, streaks of tears still sliding down your cheeks. When you don’t respond, he sighs almost contently “A bit longer?” You don’t answer again but this time, he could feel you nod against him and he smiles despite himself as he leaned his head against yours “All right then, just a bit longer.”

Mammon:

-Truth be told, he’s never been the best at comforting someone and normally, he’s kind of awkward when he wants to show his support because it feels so out of his character

-But it’s not like he was going to refuse you anyway. Not when you specifically came to him and asked him for help and not when you looked like you were on the verge of crying. He’d be a monster to deny you >:(

-It upsets him too, you know. He’s meant to be your protector, guardian even, so the fact that he couldn’t keep you from getting hurt makes him feel like he failed at keeping his human safe. Actually, it takes a lot of convincing on your part just to tell him that you’re not actually physically hurt. Just a shitty day…

-Mammon, despite the walls he puts up ever now and then, is someone that genuinely cares for you. And he’s also the type that does almost everything in excess, especially when it comes to you or spending money. That’s just his personality; he’s loud and boisterous and even though he wants to deny this, completely transparent with his emotions

-You ask for a hug? He gives you plenty of hugs! He lets you lay on top of him while cuddling so he can hold you!!! He brings you snacks and drinks!!! Shit, he basically cradles you the whole night!!! And he’s blushing and acting annoyed the entire time, refusing to accept how much he’s actually enjoying this

-The point is, he tends to coddle you whenever you have a bad day or if you’re really affected by the loss of a dead loved one. This is probably because he, in turn, likes to be babied and cared for when he’s feeling down and he subconsciously does that to you because it’s the only means of comfort he knows how to execute well

-A hug would’ve sufficed, but you’re his human and let him be damned if he’s not gonna give you the world on a silver platter if you keep looking at him with those sad eyes of yours

-By now, if you need anything, you just need to ask because even with a bit of grumbling, he’ll get it for you. More snacks? Say less. Wanna watch TV with him for a while? Immediately reaches for the remote? You just want to cuddle? His body is naturally warm for a reason bby, dig in. You want his heart? Give him a moment to surgically get it out of his chest-

-No matter what, he’s so glad that you trust him enough to talk to him about this sort of stuff and that he’s the first person you think of when you need consolation

-It makes sense after all, right? He’s your first pact so your direct happiness is his responsibility while you’re in DevilDom! It’s his job to make sure you function again by tomorrow morning and that you’re no longer troubled by anything

“Hey! What’s with all the crying huh?” He cups your face in his hands and softly squishes the flesh between his fingers. His thumbs brush over the tears in your eyes and he let’s out a small ‘tsk’ as your foreheads touch and his hands drip to your shoulders to keep you steady “The Great Mammon is hugging ya right now, ya know? There’s no reason for you to be upset, not when I’ve got ya in my arms like this, OK? So you can stop with yer water works now.” As noisy as his voice is, there’s a gentle note behind it when he speaks and embraces you, his cologne spreading everywhere “I love you, ya big idiot. So please, stop cryin’ and lemme hold ya already! Yer making me worried, ya stupid human.”

Levi:

-You stopping by his room is not unusual. In fact, you do it every day and it’s just part of the routine you have with him. However, he’s wasn’t exactly expecting you to stand there, all shaken up and ask him for a hug!!!

-And he doesn’t process this request for a second but then he freaks out so badly-

-Yells incomprehensibly about how you’re ‘pulling your normie tricks on him again’ and how he’s ‘not going to be fooled by them anymore.’

-You raise your head to meet his eyes while he’s still rambling on though and he sees your teary expression and now he feels guilty because you look really upset. Levi’s kinda scared he made it worse-

-He’s the type to usher you in his room and lock the door as usual but instead of doing what the two of you always do, you literally stay attached to him because you need comfort damn it!

-Levi….is sort of clueless about these emotional outbursts since he himself doesn’t deal with them very well. However, he’s watched enough animes revolving around romance to conclude on the best course of action so-do not fear! (Spoiler, he still doesn’t know what he’s doing)

-He’s really stuck and can either stay as quiet as a nun or start babbling in a language you probably wouldn’t even understand because he’s so nervous

-Or actually, he might start crying with you if I’m being fair; he’s very in sync with his Henry and your emotions

-Once he calms down, he’s actually not all that bad at comforting. Levi is a bit stand offish with his hugs at first but he relaxes into them and by now, you’re both standing by the side of his bed, with you leaning onto him and him holding your hand. He then intertwines your fingers together but subconsciously because he wouldn’t have the gall otherwise

-Later, he tells you to help yourself with the snacks he has hidden in his room. I guarantee you he has a whole ass mini refrigerator hidden somewhere for his all night gaming session, in case he needs any boosts. No one knows how Beel hasn’t found the stash yet and there’s no need to tell him

-Then you watch re runs of old shows together and make fun of the shitty editing and dialogue. He’s still holding your hand though and he’s really flustered and wondering if it’s too sweaty for you but don’t mention it because he’ll get even more embarrassed

-He glances over to you, every once in a while, whilst you’re cuddled up against his arm, eyes glued on the TV, to make sure you’re OK. You almost gave him a seizure or at least that’s how he felt-so he made it his mission to make you feel better by any means necessary. Fuck today’s raids, his team can get them done without him!!

“I-I don’t know why you would want me of all people to hug you but…” he trailed off in a whisper, having to lean down so you could wrap your arms against his neck and bury your head in his shoulder. He pulled you in closer, a streak of protectiveness coursing through him as he shut the door to his room with his foot “Lord of the Shadows would never leave Henry all on his own, so I’m not going to do that either. This is an important character development arc and-just, please don’t cry. I’ll give you more hugs, OK? Seeing you like this is not good for my heart-“ stopped mid sentence after realising what he just said and now he’s the one burying his head in your shoulder, flushed beyond hell “Forget I just said that! Holy Lord Diavolo this is embarrassing, why am I like this????”

Satan:

-It troubles him greatly to see you like this and he can sort of feel the world shift out of place, seeing you with tears running down your face and hands balled into fists out of frustration almost immediately makes him fly into a fit of rage because who would dare to hurt you-

-Oh, a hug? If that’s all you need, he’s more than happy to oblige but if you’re as distraught as you seem to be, he wonders if just a small embrace from him would be enough

-Satan’s hugs are very intimate and even passionate at times. He has one hand on the back of your head and the other supporting your lower back while you bawl your eyes out into his shoulder and getting his uniform wet

-You can’t really seem to focus on what he’s trying to tell you because he’s so warm and welcoming and even though he’s someone as renowned as the Avatar of Wrath, he’s shockingly patient with you as you let out the overwhelming emotions that have been consuming you all day

-It’s hard to not relax when you’re in Satan’s presence because he’s calm and he smells like musty, old books and mahogany wood and cats, meaning he was most likely cuddling strays he found on the street the entire day. The first visual that comes to mind is fire crackling behind a grate in a chimney and someone reading a book while swinging back and forth on an old, rickety chair when you’re around him

-He will wait until you’re no longer crying and then, before you know it, you find yourself in the library with him, drinking tea and being handed a plate of biscuits he took from the kitchen to help you regain your strength after all that crying. You’re still feeling pretty miserable about the day you’ve had but you quickly lose yourself in a conversation with him over a cup of tea

-Sometimes, you two talk for hours on end about nothing important just to hear each other’s voices and finally have some quality time spent together. Even though he wishes the circumstances were better, he’s glad to have been able to snatch you away from his brothers for a while and he’s even happier you chose him to confide in

-Satan practically doesn’t even mention your outburst and keeps the small talk minimal but he wants you to know that if you do wish to tell him about it, he’s more than happy to listen and he’s not so bad at giving advice either

-The topic of the discussion you were having with him changed abruptly by the end of the night and now you’re reading together from this book he started a while ago, both of you covered with a blanket, your head on his chest and his leaning on yours. He’s holding the book with both of his hands, but still managed to get his left wrapped around you. And because of this feeling of safety and warmth, you don’t feel desperate anymore. Tomorrow, you’ll be able to sort out your feelings but now, you’re content to just listening to Satan read, in his clear, soft voice

“Ah MC, could you turn the page for me?” You do as he asked to and you could feel him smiling as he kissed your hairline, sighing before going back to the book and the story within “Thank you. You truly are amazing, did you know that? I’ve never met someone as caring and as kind as you. Well, I suppose Beel could compete for the title but unlike him, you don’t really leave us in debt whenever we visit the grocery store.” Hearing you laugh makes him smile even more and he lets you hold the other side of the book while he plays with your hair and now you join in reading with him, out loud and trying to act out voices for the characters. As everything unfolds, Satan feels the world click right back into place.

Asmo:

-It’s a known fact by now that Asmo is willing to give you any sort of affection at any point in time, whether it’d be a hug, a kiss, holding your hand-you name it! I mean, whenever he’s feeling down, you being there to encourage him helps a lot so it’s only natural it works the other way around too!

-If he notices that you’re genuinely upset by something, then he would have no problem whatsoever with lavishing you in attention and really, a hug or two from him is the bare minimum in situations like this

-In any case, he always enjoys fussing over you and you having a bad day is the perfect excuse for him to do so! After all, he can’t disappoint you since you came to him with your troubles and he will do anything in his power to make you feel better. Actually, if he could, he would keep hugging you forever but as miraculous as his charm can be, it’s not effective against someone with this low of a morale

-His first suggestion is to take a bath! It’s his way of taking care of you; you’re tired after such a long day and he feels like you’re neglecting yourself a little because of it. So you relax in his bathtub with him for a while, him actively trying to get your mind off any bad, lingering thoughts while you splash around in the bubbles

-And obviously after that, you need to have your mandatory spa sessions with him since you need to unwind and what’s a better way to do that than to let him paint your nails and apply lotion to your skin? Besides, it creates a great opportunity for you to take things off your chest

-He’s in need to hear gossip constantly so if you don’t feel like talking, he’s gonna be a bit bummed out but he still respects your wishes enough to not push you. If your problem is as sensitive as the death of a family member, you’re not obligated to talk to him about it and he will understand, since people grieve in different ways. He too shut down after the death of Lilith for a while after all

-A bad day is nothing Asmo can’t handle. He’s had plenty of those before, mostly because of Mammon and his thievery, they’re usually common factors. It’s only natural you experience those yourself and he’s more than willing to be your support system if you need one. He wants you to know that you can go to him if you need advice or help with anything, or even if you just need to someone to hear you out

-To give a more detailed explanation of his hugs, they are usually really light and you never feel suffocated when you’re in his arms. He never squeezes you too tight and he always smells amazing, so you feel inclined to stay near him for as long as possible. Despite his overtly loud nature, he gets incredibly soft spoken with you and he traces patterns on your back and arms as you stand there together

-It’s important to mention, he never pulls away from you first. He lets you decide when you’ve had enough and when you’re ready to move on or if you require some other means of comfort

-And even if you’re no longer disgruntled, he’s still going to pamper you as much as possible the next day with either a shopping spree or another few spa sessions, this time done at a professional institution rather than the privacy of his bedroom

-Asmo is in touch with your emotions and it’s kinda scary sometimes because of how well he can read you, since he almost always knows what you need

“Oh darling, how could I refuse a hug from you?” You can feel his arms embrace you, even with your eyes closed and for some reason, this makes you cry even harder, sobbing as he tries to comfort you. You’re aware he let go of you at some point and returned with a tissue to dab away at your tears, gently to not hurt your eyes and now he’s hugging you again, a wry smile on his face “You don’t have to worry about a thing, MC. Everything will get sorted out, I promise. In the meantime, come to me if anything troubles you again, OK? No more crying, darling-it’s bad for your eyes.”

Beel:

-The type to immediately lean in for a hug without even questioning why. As soon as you ask him, you barely have time to finish the question and you already find yourself in his arms. The only exception would be when he’s eating or maybe in the middle of a work out but the point is he doesn’t hesitate much when it comes to you. And I mean, he loves hugs just as much as his siblings do

-Beel is not the most observant and he may not realise you’re in a bad mood unless you tell him outright. It’s not even that he’s emotionally distant, it’s just that if you tell him that you’re fine, then he’s gonna take your word for it and believe you since he’s pretty straightforward with his feelings as well. However, as dense as he may be on occasion, even he’s bound to notice that you’re not being your usual self and this is especially true if you start crying out of nowhere while he’s nearby. Probably assumes the worst and is under the impression that he did something to upset you because shifting the blame onto himself whenever others suffer is his coping mechanism and we’ve seen him to do it before

-If you’ve just had a bad day, he understands that things could’ve been very overwhelming for you and he wishes he had known sooner so he could’ve helped back then, instead of letting it come to this. But he doesn’t hesitate all that much since he looks like he’s built for giving hugs on a daily basis. I’m not even sure this would classify as a hug since you’re not touching the floor. Rather, you are attached to him like a koala and he’s carrying you around as if you were a baby strapped to his chest. And he genuinely doesn’t mind. He’s been doing it with Belphie for centuries now

-Please, after a while he gets seriously concerned because are humans supposed to cry this much? What if you dehydrate or something? So he makes you stay in bed and just gives you plenty of water. You look so pale and sad, he shares his food with you too because his heart is aching just looking at you like this. He feels like besides being there, he can’t provide you with much help and he’s starting to think he’s hopeless at comforting

-If a family member died then…Beel is one of the best people you could’ve gone to. Honestly, having dealt with his sister’s situation, he knows how horrible it is to lose somebody you love dearly (I mean, all the brothers do but I’m making a point saying Beel, Belphie and Lucifer were especially affected). Now he’s sad himself since he’s aware that you’re going through something similar and his twin might walk in on the two of you being emotional on the floor

-For the most part, Beel makes sure you keep yourself healthy even when you’re tired and depressed. Continues to bring you food, even if he eats half of it on his way to your room, and just keeps you company in general in case you get lonely. Seeing you upset makes him even more considerate of your feelings and you don’t have the heart to tell him that he doesn’t need to stay with you all night. He thinks he does because you’ve always offered to stay with him whenever he’s had nightmares before so how he’s gotta return the favour

-Beel gives these bear hugs all the time, since he’s so big and his hand basically covers your entire back. So, more often than not, you end up cuddling while standing because he’s a lot taller than you, with him being a demon and all. Despite that, you feel so unbelievably complete when he holds you like this. It’s hard not to feel protected since his whole body is practically concealing yours so easily all the time and you feel sheltered from the world and it’s….nice

-And Beel enjoys hugging you too, because he knows that as long as he’s nearby, you’ll be safe and that’s really all he needs. He wants to be there for you the same way you were there for him when he needed it most and comforting you when you’re having a shitty day is like his full time job

-You could come to Beel with any problem and he would never judge you, no matter what. He’s just really unproblematic and he just wants you to go back to your normal self because it hurts him to see you cry your eyes out. Now, not only are hugs mandatory but holding your hand is too. It’s like hugging…but your hands are doing the hugging

-Definitely even goes to Belphie after a while if he really doesn’t know what to do and that’s how you know he’s desperate to do something. Since the Seventh Born isn’t exactly someone that yields great advice, more so when it comes to other…people….and his twin knows this-

-Beel’s best strategy at the moment is to just maintain some kind of physical contact because he discovered that makes you feel better and it calms you down more than him trying to verbally console you. He even invited you to sleep in his room if you’re comfortable doing so just so you’re not alone. After that one incident, he’s trying to coax you to tell him whenever something is wrong so he can jump in and help, because that’s all he really wants to do ahakenksms

“MC? Did something happen?” He’s honestly taken aback by how shaky you are and how you’re hands are trembling as they’re reaching to connect with his. Without much of a warning, he feels a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach and now he discovers that he doesn’t like seeing you with tears trailing down your face. And he feels worse the longer you wail in his chest and he doesn’t know what to do. So, he wraps his arms around you so tight you think you might explode, strangely comforted by the feeling as he speaks again “I’m sorry if I’ve done something to upset you. What can I do to help, MC? We can just stay like this for a while if you want” And when he sees you nod, he proceeds to not move an inch almost the entire night. Obviously, hunger overtook him eventually but he shared his stolen goods with you so can you really complain? Doubtful, not when he hasn’t let go of your hand the whole time.

Belphie:

- Hugging him is a gamble. Realistically speaking, you’re not going to catch him standing upright long enough for you to give him a hug. He’s laying on the floor somewhere, asleep so you shouldn’t expect much from him to begin with. Even if you were to get lucky and stumble upon him while he’s wide awake, he might slump over and succumb to sleep the moment you embrace him because you’re so warm

-Cuddling is a different story altogether. He’d rather shoot himself in the foot than not have you cuddle with him so if you need to be babied for once, he’s a pretty good option to consider

-As usual, he’s in the attic and you go to him because it’s really late and you didn’t want to wake up any of the other brothers. Actually, Belphie is normally awake by dusk so to see him sleep like a log past midnight was quite surprising. You didn’t exactly want to interrupt but if you stayed alone for any longer, you would’ve gone insane. So you shook him awake. And he was understandably confused and probably forgot what planet he was on for a minute when you did so

-Technically, he was half awake and from his point of view, everything must’ve been pretty blurry. He did see you; the problem was that because he was still feeling very sleepy, he was basically in a daze and could only squint at you to try and figure out if you were really there or if he was hallucinating. His suspicion was confirmed soon enough because he reached out after a few seconds and poked your cheek just to check. His face the entire time and the action itself was so amusing that, despite tittering on the edge of a breakdown, you burst out laughing

-Once he came to the conclusion that you were, in fact, real and he wasn’t dreaming, he sighed and opened his arms out for you; a direct invitation to cuddle with him. By now, he likely didn’t even noticed you looked sad because, as I said, he was all over the place but this little ritual you two have was common enough that it got engraved in his memory. Now he does it out of impulse whenever you’re around and he wants attention

-So you basically tackled him and threw yourself on top of him so hard, both of you toppled over on the bed and now you were used as a blanket, with his arms wrapped securely around you; preventing you from getting up. Not that you were planning on doing that anytime soon but moving on-

-You thought he had fallen back asleep, because he went really quiet and he stopped squirming to get comfortable. To be exact, the whole room was rather still and the only thing you could really hear was Belphie’s soft breathing and the rustle of the bedsheets every once in a while. And since it was extremely dark as well, you couldn’t see a thing either so it felt like the best place to let go of your stress

-It’s not like you were making much noise but as I said, the seventh born wasn’t sleeping just yet. And he wouldn’t be able to because it was obvious to him now that something was wrong. He believed that he was bearing witness to something that should’ve been a lot more private than this so he didn’t say anything. You should have your moment, let you have a chance to recollect your thoughts and the next day, he might ask you

-It was too much to handle. It’s not like he was gonna get any sleep unless he knew your problem was solved otherwise he might get nightmares all night. Besides, if you’re crying this much, then something terrible must’ve happened. You realised he was awake when he gave your entire body a small squeeze, as if to reassure you and you froze because did you just wake him up???? Or worse, did he hear all that sobbing you were doing????

-Hugging him is similar to hugging a pillow. He’s soft and squishy and warm and it’s impossible to resist him when rest at a time like this is so tempting. His fingers running over your pact mark once or twice, as if to remind you that he’s right there and low whispers describing the best dream he ever had about you, hoping to distract you for long enough to help you fall asleep

-To him, it doesn’t make a difference if a family member died or if you’re just having a bad day. All he knows is that you’re having a lot of emotional problems because of either one and as a result, you need a shoulder to lean on. He’s glad that you trust him enough to let him assist and if it was up to him, he would keep cuddling you forever. You’ve already suffered enough so let him take care of you this time around, OK?

“Dumbass, why are you crying?” The gentleness of his words was a clear contrast to that quick insult he shoved at the beginning of his statement, though you couldn’t hear any malice behind it and the fact that he really cared about what happened to cause you to struggle with your emotions so badly, would’ve made you wail even harder. However, he managed to silence you pretty well because he kept speaking and you wanted to listen; you wanted to hear what he had to say so you reduced your sobs and you sat quietly enough to do just that. Belphie flipped you over, now with him on top and you underneath and he laid there, cheek sloshed against yours as he sleepily mumbled out more praise for you, “MC, are you tired? You should go to bed, you need to get some sleep. Tomorrow, you can tell me what the problem is and I’ll help. I promise-I’ll even get up early for you. Just…please calm down. I don’t want to see you crying yourself to sleep ever again. I’ll stay here the entire time, alright? And I’ll make sure you have nice dreams tonight MC…just let me hold you…”

[marbleheavy]

I did Nico so here are some Will Solace headcanons that have bouncing around my brain for a while now

He goes through a sweater phase where he wears almost exclusively slightly too big, brightly colored, knit sweaters with thick collars and cinched sleeves

He read that fact about how if your tongue sticks to a rock it’s actually a bone, and now he licks every rock he finds because “What if it’s the bone of a dinosaur? What if I’m licking part of a T-Rex right now?” (and Nico just lets him do it even though he knows they aren’t bones)

REALLY into pinkie promises. Like, he takes them so seriously. Pinkie promise > swearing on the Styx

He takes a lot of chaotic self timer pictures and always ropes everyone else into them. They always end up looking like an album cover and he looks like he’s the lead singer. It’s not even that he’s always front and center, it’s just the way that he’s holding himself in every picture. When he gets his own apartment or house or whatever, he makes a collage of them all and he has every one of his friends choose a picture and write what the name of the album would be on it.

Going off of that, he is really into crafts but specifically memory crafts (does that make sense???). He makes keepsake boxes and friendship bracelets and so many things because he feels like it doesn’t matter if those things actually look good because the most important part of them is the memory attached.

He uses either 🤠 or ✨ (sometimes 🤪) in almost every text and uses them to convey any emotion. Rachel is the only one who ever understands exactly what he means.

A million friendship and bead bracelets just all the way up his arms. Probably some silly bands too.

He carries a backpack with him almost all the time and it somehow holds every possible necessity but always looks nearly empty. Obviously a first aid kit, but also like snacks and a hat and sunscreen and a million pens and the list goes on and on. It’s kind of in a mom friend way but more of a thing where someone sees “i need x item” and Will just hands it to them wordlessly without even stopping his sentence.

He adores the face masks that are supposed to make you look like an animal but they’re mostly just scary. They make him giggle like a toddler. (Imagine him and Nico with the fluffy headbands with the ears and then the face masks and Will just absolutely losing his shit)

Hozier!! Will loves Hozier!! Also country music (but he has a whole spiel about new age, american exceptionalist pop country because he h a t e s that). Also, and this is the really important one, 80s music but the really synth-y stuff (see my 80s cover band au for more details)

His ideal outfit is a chunky sweater, a jean jacket, jeans that don’t match the jacket, and rain boots. He loves rain boots. He’s got multiple pairs and at least one of them have frogs on them. If he can’t wear rain boots, flip flops in the summer and vans in the other seasons (He’s definitely got a pair of these yellow Vans)

He dresses like a dad but a dad that was born in the 80s and is also three years old

Will has at least three flavors of chapstick on him at any given time

Will Solace with a gun is wonderful, truly. I would like to add to this by introducing the concept of him wearing the side holsters on either this legs or his arms. He wants to go on quests so he can live his dreams of being a cowboy with thigh gun holsters and a hat and boots and all of it. (Also, Nico with knives strapped to his thighs and Will with guns) (Also, also, there’s a Cards Against Humanity card that says “Shooting a wizard with a gun” and that screams Will Solace)

Will is very much a “Let’s not resort to violence” person but in a way where like, Person A tries to punch B and Will is like “hey, we can talk this out” but then B doubles down and says something really out of line and Will just backs up and is like “You know what? Never mind, you do what you need to do” (And also in a “Let’s not fight… except for Nico because isn’t he so pretty with his sword?)

speaking of pretty, Will l o v e s to be called pretty. It makes his sweet summer child heart go brrr

He is obviously very into nicknames and terms of endearment but calling someone “Hon” or “Sweet pea” is always passive aggressive (that’s less of a Will thing and more of a Southern thing)

I would like to bring up the licking rocks thing again because I really do just believe it with my whole heart

For a while, the idea of Will’s grandparents (obviously Naomi’s side) being French has been bouncing around my head and I really do love the idea of Will speaking French fluently but not at all formally. It’s a lot of slang and has a Texas drawl mixed in with it but it’s definitely French (and it definitely makes Nico melt). He will just deadpan look at someone and go “Quoi?” and he counts the infirmary inventory stock in French but only up until sixty, then he switches to English (soixante-dix can suck it, sorry if you’re french but like, just make a new word. there’s no need for me to have to do math while already counting. don’t even get me started on anything in the 90s. quatre-vingt-dix-sept?? excuse me??)

Will and Persephone being buddies!! They just get along well and very much understand being summer people in love with anti-sun people and just, ugh, family dinners in the Underworld and Will always, always brings a gift for her. Will and Nico come in and anyone can hear Persephone yell “Is that Will? Is Will here?” and Will just grins and calls back “Yes ma’am, and I brought you some brownies from my Mama and some of the flowers from her garden”

Also, Nico knows all the deities and Will brings them cookies because they’re a team like that

He either plays soccer or lacrosse but either way he’s very good at it and it’s honestly intimidating (jock will solace <3)

Not to say Will isn’t his fair share of chaotic, but he’s friends with a lot of very chaotic or at the least eccentric people (Cecil and his pranks, Lou Ellen and her pig balls, Rachel and herself, Nico and himself, etc.) so he’s very good at turning on the Southern charm and just smiling his way out of any situation so he can get himself and everyone else away without any consequences

I think that’s all for now!! If you have any additions, please feel free to add them on, I love seeing other people’s ideas!

[the7thcrow]

600 degrees

~

pairing: bang chan x (fem) reader

summary: you can’t cook. like, really can’t cook. good thing your cute neighbour is here to help clean up the mess.

word count: 5.1k

genre: neighbours au. strangers to lovers. the fluffiest of fluff, slightly suggestive.

warnings: a make-out session, bad humour, minho being a twat of a roommate, and tooth-rotting fluff.

rating: 14+

a/n: hi guys! hope you enjoy this one, it’s so much more wholesome and fluffy than what i usually write, but I'm pretty happy about it. don’t by shy to send me an ask or leave a comment. anything you have to say, I would love to hear. :)

...

..

.

“Fine. Since you won’t come, at least enlighten me on how you plan to keep yourself busy?” Minho asks, casually leaning against your kitchen island. He stares at you, with that familiar condescending smirk you’ve seen far too many times.

“I don’t know,” you state, rolling your eyes. Rising to your feet, you head over to your shared refrigerator, pulling a bottle of Sangria out of the fridge. “But I’m sure I’ll find something.”

“You know, if you want to drink, you could at least do it at the party.” Minho approaches you from behind, placing both his hands on your shoulders. “It’s a lot less sad that way.”

You slap his hand away, letting out a frustrated groan at the laughter he lets out from his own joke. “I get out plenty, quit acting like I’m some lonely cat lady,” you say, grabbing your favourite wine glass from the cupboard. “I like parties, I just don’t like Jisung’s parties. They always get way out of hand.”

“But Y/N,” Minho wines, picking up your freshly poured glass and taking a sip, earning himself a glare. “I never said you were a cat lady, just the lonely part.”

At that you snatch the glass away from his hands. Not wanting to deal with this torment any longer, you walk back to your comfortable, worn-in spot on the couch.

“You know I’m right,” he says, continuing despite the fact you begin to turn up the volume of the television. “And the only way you’re going to change that is by accompanying me to Jisung’s loud, out of hand parties.”

You turn to face him, raising your eyebrows. “Somehow, I doubt my soulmate associates himself with Han Jisung.”

“Well that can’t be right, because I associate myself with Han Jisung?”

“Shut up, Minho.”

Your roommate snickers to himself as he opens the fridge, taking a quick glance at everything - or for a better term, lack of anything - inside. “What are you even going to eat? There’s nothing leftover from last night.”

“I’ll make something,” you say. Frankly, you had expected the outburst of laughter, but that didn’t do anything to simmer down your growing annoyance.

“Make something?” Minho laughs, giving you an incredulous stare. “Y/N, I’ve lived with you for two years and I don’t think I’ve seen you cook anything once.”

“Hey, I can cook,” you return, wrinkling your nose. “But why would I, when I have you to do it for me?”

At this, it’s Minho’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yeah, okay, I take that back. I don’t want you to come, have fun curling up on the couch alone with your three cats.”

“They’re literally yours.”

“Whatever,” he says, opening your front door. “Just don’t burn the apartment down, alright?”

As he closes the door, you flip him off. At first, you aren’t sure if he saw, but you’re given your answer as his laughter echoes down the hallway, fading as he walks further away.

You scowl. Of course you can cook. Well, at the very least, well enough to make a meal for one on a saturday night. Minho didn’t know what he was talking about.

Minho. Your best friend and roommate for the last two years. Man, does the guy have a way of pushing your buttons. You love him, of course. In the weird, bickering, just short of volatile friendship sort of way the two of you had developed.

Still, you can’t deny that even with his painfully irritable nature, he is still a good friend. No matter how many times you say no, he always offers to take you anywhere he goes. He pushes you out of your comfort zone. He’s there to console you when a date goes bad, or you failed a test you studied hard for. He makes all his meals for two, just because he doesn’t want you to live solely off shitty take-out.

He’s your rock. Your platonic other half. Your closest companion.

Which means you are going to prove him wrong, and then rub it in his face as much as you possibly can. Of course, because that’s what friends are for.

~~~~

Then again, maybe you wouldn’t. Or, at the very least, it was going to be exceedingly more difficult now that your apartment was full of smoke.

Covering your nose with one hand, you take the tray of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. If you can even call them that, as they now held a far closer resemblance to that of hockey pucks. Both in looks, and what you could assume in taste, as well.

Okay, you know chocolate chip cookies don’t really count as a decent meal, but they are the only thing you remember how to cook from when you lived at home. Or maybe you didn’t remember, based on the tray of failure sitting in front of you.

Then, to make matters even worse, your fire alarm starts going off.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath. Now you are going to have to go to the front desk, let them know everything is okay.

Maybe Minho was right, you should’ve just went to Jisung’s stupid party and eaten something there. Putting all the other painful aspects of Han’s parties aside, Felix was his roommate, so the horderves were always excellent.

They were better than your hockey puck cookies, anyway.

Letting out a disappointed sigh, you open your apartment door, prepared to get a rough scolding from the lady working the front desk. However, you are surprised to find a man standing in front of you, his hand in the air, as if he were about to knock.

“Hi,” he says, awkwardly putting his hand back down at his side. He has messy platinum blonde hair, and soft eyes. He’s cute, and the realization quickly makes you recognize him.

“You’re my neighbor,” you say, pointing a finger at him. It’s not until he doesn’t respond immediately that you realize it was a strange thing to say. Obviously, he knows he’s your neighbor, and he might be a little offended you didn’t recognize him immediately.

Then again, the two of you had never really talked before. Everytime you would pass each other in the hall, he’d always give a polite nod and continue walking. Sometimes you’d try to say hello, or start a small conversation, but he always disappeared quickly. It had gotten to the point where you assumed he had some strange, unwarranted grudge against you.

So, it was safe to say that you were more than just a little surprised to find him at your door.

“Uh, yeah, I am. Are you okay? I thought I smelt something burning, and then I heard the fire alarm go off.” He asks, peeking behind you into your apartment, seeing if he can catch sight of any flames.

Instead, his eyes land on your tray of butchered cookies, and he… smirks?

“Oh,” he says, attempting to hide the smile growing on his face. “Having some cooking trouble?”

You stare at him for a moment, watching as his lips pursed together, stifling a chuckle. “Are you...” you begin, your jaw dropping slightly. “Are you laughing at me?”

“No,” he looks down at you, finally letting his grin free. “I would never.”

“Yeah, okay,” you frown, already not enjoying that sarcastic look on his face. You thought you’d be able to avoid that humiliating look considering Minho wasn’t here, but apparently not.

 “As you can see, it’s nothing. So if you’ll excuse me,” you continue, attempting to move past him. “I need to go get my neck rung by the lady at the front desk,” However, he doesn’t budge from his place in your door frame. You cast him a glare, which only makes his smile grow wider.

“Nah, don’t worry, I’ll go let her know,” he says, already turning to walk down the hall. You open your mouth to object, but he casts a glance over his shoulder, snickering. “You focus on cleaning up whatever those black lumps were supposed to be.”

You stand in your doorway, dumbfounded as your neighbor disappears down the complex staircase. Who did this guy think he was, openly laughing at your current predicament? Sure, if the roles were reversed, there’s no doubt that you would do the same. But that isn’t the point.

No. The point is that you are not impressed by the audacity of this stranger, and you are going to make sure that this distaste is known.

Grumbling to yourself, you dump the still smoking cookies in the trash can. It’s a shame, really. You’d thought you were doing so well, too. You thought this would be your chance to prove Minho wrong. Minho. Oh, he would be having an absolute hay day if he were here right now, and the thought only makes your scowl deepen.

“Well,” your neighbor calls from behind you, causing you to jump slightly. He reappears in the open door frame, sticking his neck inside, but not fully crossing the threshold into your apartment. “She’s not thrilled, but the alarm didn’t trigger the main system’s sprinklers, so you’re good.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

The man smiles. “If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly were you trying to make anyway?”

An embarrassed blush casts itself over your cheeks. “Chocolate chip cookies,” you mumble, not meeting his eyes.

He lets out a burst of laughter, smiling widely. You can’t help but notice that he had a cute smile, dimples on both of his cheeks, eyes crinkled. Not that you were looking. Not that you cared, obviously.

“How’d you manage to mess up chocolate chip cookies that badly?”

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging your shoulders helplessly. “You tell me.” You gesture towards the oven. Your neighbor smirks, walking inside your apartment. He bends down in front of your oven, before taking a look inside.

“Well, nothing seems to be wrong in there…” he starts, before glancing up at the set temperature. “Oh,” he states, before looking back at you, his eyes full of pity. “Oh boy.”

“What?” You ask defensively.

“The temperature. You forgot to convert it from celsius to fahrenheit. See?” He says, leaning away from the oven to give you a closer look. “So you thought you were cooking them at 350 degrees fahrenheit, when in reality they were at over 600 degrees.”

“Oh my god,” you say, smacking your palm against your forehead. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I don’t know,” the guy shrugs. “You could have burnt your apartment down, so I’d consider it a win. You’re lucky I got here on time.”

You cast him a scowl, although you can’t seem to relinquish the faintest hint of a smile creeping onto your lips. You know damn well you wouldn’t have started a fire, and that the man showing up really didn’t stop anything but an uncomfortable conversation with the front lady. You are also sure that he is fully aware of this too, which makes your smirk grow wider. Alright, you’ll play along.

“Right, what ever would I do without you?” you say sarcastically, causing your neighbor to playfully roll his eyes. He leans against your kitchen counter, relaxing slightly.

“Does my saviour have a name?” You ask, opening the fridge to take a look at what’s inside. You feel your stomach rumble, taking a glance at the clock to see that it was already past 9:00.

“It’s Chris,” he smiles, leaning over your shoulder. “So what are you going to eat, now that you’ve successfully butchered the easiest recipe known to man?”

“Hey!” You snipe. “That is certainly not the easiest recipe known to man.”

“Fine, fine,” Chris says, putting his hands up in defense. “Maybe not the easiest, but it’s definitely up there. But putting that aside, what are you going to eat? Because I genuinely don’t think I’ve ever seen a fridge so empty.”

You want to quip back at him, but he’s right. Minho usually does the grocery shopping, but because of Jisung’s party tonight he wasn’t planning on cooking anything.

“Good question,” you sigh, closing the refrigerator door before leaning your back against it. “Maybe I’ll just order some take out. I don’t think my pride can handle another failure.”

Chris smiles. “Or, I have an idea,” he says, his eyes glinting. He heads over to your apartment door, and for a moment you worry that he’s leaving.

No, you’re not worried. You’re curious. That’s all. You were curious whether or not he was leaving, nothing more.

When Chris returns, he has his arms full of ingredients. Spinach, penne, tomato sauce, cream, a variety of spices. The list goes on, and he stumbles slightly, almost dropping the surplus of food onto your kitchen floor. Imagining the mess, you rush over to help him, placing the load of groceries onto the counter.

“I don’t know if you couldn’t tell before,” you say, motioning to your overflowing counter. “But I really can’t cook. I have no clue what to do with any of this.”

“That’s no problem,” Chris smiles, already separating the food into different groups. “I’ll help you.”

“No, no, no. I can’t ask you to do that,” you say, waving your hands in protest. You step in front of him, squeezing yourself between his chest and the kitchen counter, preventing him from reaching any of the ingredients. “You’ve already dealt with the desk lady for me, and brought over all these groceries. You’ve done more than enough.”

He smiles, gently placing his hands on your shoulders and effortlessly moving you to the side. “Why would I bring you these groceries if I knew you couldn’t do anything with them?” When you don’t respond, he continues. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it. Just let me help you.”

You sigh in defeat, ignoring the way your heart begins to beat faster in your chest. “Alright,” you say, grabbing Minho’s cutting board from the cupboard. “Let’s do this, then.”

~~~~

An hour later, you find yourself sitting on top of your kitchen counter, Chris stationed by the stove working on the pasta sauce. You had genuinely tried to help in the beginning, you really did. But after Chris criticized your (awful) cutting technique, and said he didn’t exactly trust you to do anything else, you gave up.

Besides, you don’t have a problem watching him work. Over the last hour, you’ve come to learn that Chris is an absolute whiz in the kitchen. Moving from place to place, adding spices by intuition and nothing more. This wasn’t something you could have managed to make yourself in a million years, and it’s obvious that if you tried to assist him right now, you’d only get in the way.

Of course, you’ve learned a lot more about Chris in the last hour than just that. Where he grew up, his hobbies, what he was currently studying at the university. Music theory, as you’d learned. As cool as it sounded, Han had managed to tarnish your image of music majors, but you suppose you could give Chris a chance.

“It’s almost done,” Chris says, glancing over his shoulder to look at you.

“Thank God, I’m starving,” you reply, leaping off the counter to stand beside him.

“What, no ‘thank you, Chris?’ No, ‘what ever would I have done without you, Chris?’” He mocks offence, placing a hand on his heart.

“It’s not even done yet. I’ll thank you after I try it, I promise.” You laugh, rolling your eyes.

“Ah, so you’re only thankful if you like it. I see how it is,” Chris says, crossing his arms in front of himself, pouting his lower lip slightly.

“Guess so,” you say, crossing your own arms mockingly. Chris smiles, those cute little dimples of his dancing across his cheeks.

Then you feel it, that little jump of your heart. The faintest skip of a beat that you’d familiarized yourself with over the last hour. That little hint of anticipation that makes you decide that you are, even if only slightly, a bit interested in Chris.

After all, he’s funny and sweet. Can carry a conversation well, and to understate it, undeniably easy on the eyes. That’s more than enough to give him a chance.

Most of all, however, you like that little flare between the two of you. The sarcasm, the banter. It doesn’t feel the same as when Minho does it, slightly condescending and done purely to harbour your annoyance. No, this is different. It is a challenge. He wants you to quip back, to push further. To make him smirk, or laugh, or roll his eyes.

“Alright, fine then,” he says, taking the large wooden spoon and scooping up some of the pasta sauce. “Tell me if this is up to par, your majesty.”

You aren’t sure if he wants you to take the spoon, or let him hold it for you as you take a bite. You decide to take the gamble, gently moving your lips around the spoon, tasting the sauce. You glance up at Chris, a small look of surprise on his face. However, you don’t miss the flash of something behind his eyes. The faintest hint of affection, interest.

The sauce itself is delicious. A perfect blend of tomato, basil and cream. You hum contently, giving him a thumbs up.

“Chris, this is amazing,” you praise, admiring the small blush that sprinkles his cheeks.

“It’s really nothing,” he says, diverting his gaze and rubbing the back of his neck, shyly.

“No, seriously,” you say, taking the spoon from his hand and scooping some of the sauce up yourself. “Try it.” You hold the spoon out in front of him, and he raises his eyebrows slightly. Your gaze remains firm. A challenge.

Hesitantly, he takes the bite, not breaking eye contact as he does so. You stare at him, watching the way his lips move around the spoon, the intensity of his gaze. The action itself should be innocent, yet you feel a warmth rise to your cheeks.

Chris swallows, taking his lips off the spoon. For a moment, neither of you say anything. You can feel the change in the atmosphere of the room. The spark between you two being brought alight.

You swallow hard. “So?” You ask quietly.

“Yeah, it’s good. Very good,” he says back, his voice low and raspy. He goes to take the spoon from you, and his hand lingers a moment, his thumb trailing the skin of your knuckles.

You feel yourself lean in slightly, fully prepared to take the leap, when suddenly he breaks away from you, eagerly taking a few steps back. He looks away, placing a hand on his face, as if he were ashamed.

“Shit. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I know you’re seeing someone, we shouldn’t be doing this. I’m sorry,” he babbles, completely turning away from you.

You open your mouth to say something, but no words come out. Seeing someone? Where the hell could he have possibly gotten that idea?

“Seeing someone?” You ask, incredulously voicing your thoughts. You grab him by the shoulder, turning him around. “Why do you think I’m seeing someone?”

Chris still refuses to meet your eyes, instead focusing intently on the wall behind you. “The guy that lives here- Minho - aren’t you two?”

“Minho?” You gape, contorting your face in a look of pure disgust. “Ew, gross! No! Believe me, I am not dating Minho, I’d genuinely rather stick this spoon in my eye,” you exclaim, lifting up the utensil.

At that Chris finally looks at you, wearing his own look of pure confusion. “Wait, really? But whenever I hear you guys out in the hall, the two of you are always so… flirty.”

“Flirty?” You laugh at the ridiculousness of the statement. “If by flirty you mean he teases me literally every god damn second of every day, then yeah sure, I guess. But believe me, there is absolutely nothing romantic about that. Not in the least.”

Chris shakes his head, a smile forming at the corners of his lips. “Wow. I am such an idiot,” he sighs, a rediscovered lightness to his tone.

“No, no. Don’t worry about it,” you reassure him. “Anyone could make that mistake, I guess. It’s really no big-”

“No, it’s not just that,” he cuts you off. “That’s why I’ve never talked to you before now.”

“You never talked to me because you thought that me and Minho were dating?” You ask, slightly confused. Even if you were dating, you didn’t see why that would stop him from starting a conversation with you. “Why?”

“Well,” he sighs, his cheeks reddening further. “I thought you were pretty, and based on the way you always quipped back at him, clever and funny as well. I don’t know, it just felt wrong to try and build a friendship with you, knowing how I already felt a little....”  

You smirk, drawing yourself slightly closer to him. “A little what?”

His smile transforms itself from embarrassed to a sly grin of his own. “A little into you, I guess.”

“It really is a shame,” you shrug, trying to hide the excitement building in your chest. “Because here I was, thinking my cute neighbor had some irrational grudge against me.”

Chris leans in, so the two of you are only inches apart. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin, smell the strong fragrance of his cologne. Sharp with lemon zest and mint.

“We could always make up for lost time, you know,” he says, his eyes flashing with mischief.

That is all the invitation you need to break the space between the two of you. You press Chris’ lips against your own, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other along the line of his jaw. His lips are soft, you notice. Tender in the slow rhythm the two of you develop.

He runs his hands up along your figure. One of them finding itself locked in your hair, the other placed firmly on the curve of your lower back. Gently, he leads the two of you away from the stove, placing you so that your back is pressed up against the kitchen counter.

You run your hand down along his chest, reveling in the groan he let’s out as your fingers trail down his lower abdomen. The sound is electricity pulsing through you, charging the room and igniting the atmosphere around the two of you.

His lips leave yours, trailing your jaw before making their way down your neck. Each individual kiss is slow and sultry, sending a shiver down your spine. You take a deep breath to stable yourself, and it does not go unnoticed.

Chris smirks, shifting his gaze to meet yours. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown out with desire. “You know, if we keep this up, the pasta sauce is going to burn,” he says, letting his fingers trail along your collarbone.

“Let it,” you shrug. “I wasn’t hungry anyways.”

Chris laughs at this, leaning forward so his face brushes the crook of your neck. “Yeah, right,” he says, allowing his lips to dust your skin. Suddenly, he bites down, not enough to break through the skin, but certainly enough to leave a small mark.  

You laugh, running your hands in his hair, half-heartedly pulling him off of your neck. “Hey! That hurt,” you exclaim, only half serious.

“Sorry,” he grins, before crashing his lips into yours once again. The pace between the two of you is much faster now, each kiss more passionate. More promising. Your desire rings through you, clouding your mind in a hazy fog of lust. It is dizzying, just how much you want him at this moment.

You're certain he feels the same way, given in how tightly he grips your thigh, his breath ragged every time you break apart. It is messy. Greedy. The two of you so deeply wanting more. More of each other.

You’re about to ask if he wants to move this to the bedroom, when suddenly the apartment door swings open. It’s almost comical, how quickly you and Chris break apart, springing to opposite ends of the kitchen.

“I hate to say it, but you were right,” Minho calls as he walks inside, not yet glancing up from his phone screen. “Shit got out of hand. Someone managed to break the pool table, don’t even ask how, I don’t know either. Almost gave Felix an aneurysm. I swear the kid was about to cry, poor guy. Han had to shut everything down. So you really didn’t miss out on-” Minho stops as he sees Chris, a confused yet bemused expression crossing his face.

“Oh, hey Chan,” he says, causing you to give Chris a look.

“A nickname,” Chris mouths to you, as discreetly as he possibly can.

“What are you doing over here?” Minho asks him, crossing his arms and leaning against the door. He has that smug smirk on his face that makes you want to punch him.

“Oh, well…” Chris starts, casting you a glance. “Y/N made some food, and there was too much of it, so she invited me over.”

“Really?” Minho asks, caught off guard. He walks past you and Chris, staring at the pasta and sauce currently sitting on the oven burners. “You’re saying Y/N made this?”

“Well, yeah?” Chris says, feigning confusion. “Of course, I wouldn’t lie about something like that. Why?”

You have to stop yourself from laughing, looking at the expression of utter bewilderment on Minho’s face. Minho glances at you, narrowing his eyes, before sighing.

“Well then, I guess you proved me wrong on two things tonight, Y/N,” he says, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard.

“What are you doing?” You ask as he begins to scoop some of the penne into his dish.

“Oh, you said there was a lot,” Minho responds, raising one eyebrow. “Can I not have some?”

“Sorry, go ahead,” you say, still slightly flustered by the abruptness of his entrance. Minho finishes filling his bowl and takes a seat at the kitchen island. As he begins to eat, the room is filled with a rather tense silence. You and Chris share an awkward look, unsure of what to do next.

Minho looks up from his dish, glancing between the two of you.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, grabbing his bowl and standing up from his chair. “I’m going to go eat this in my room. Have fun you two.”

Before you can say anything, Minho disappears around the corner, down the hallway leading to his room. You turn back towards Chris. The two of you stare at each other for a moment, before bursting out into a fit of laughter.

“He’s a bit of a mood-killer, huh?” You say, grabbing two bowls from the cupboard, offering him one.

Chris nods in thanks as he takes the bowl from your hands. “Just a little bit,” he laughs, beginning to scoop some of the pasta into both of your dishes.

The two of you take a seat at your counter, spending the meal talking and laughing. Nothing else, the moment has passed, but that doesn’t bother you. You enjoy Chris’ presence. His quick humour and thoughtful conversation.

It really is something that you could get used to, you decide.

After you’re done eating, you walk Chris over to the door, handing him his surplus of spice bottles and leftover spinach.

“Thank you for doing all this, seriously. The food was delicious, you’re seriously gifted. And also, thank you for covering for me, I really didn’t feel like listening to Minho die laughing over the burnt cookies,” you admit.

“It’s no problem, really,” Chris smiles. He shifts all the spices over to his right arm, letting his free hand fall down to his side. Softly, he takes your hand in his, letting your fingers intertwine.

“Listen,” he continues, shyly looking up from your hands to meet your eyes. “If you’re not doing anything tomorrow, you’re welcome to come over for a proper dinner. You know, so I can show you what I can actually make when it’s not a last minute attempt at salvaging a meal.”

You smile a goofy, genuine grin. “That sounds good to me,” you say. Hesitantly, you lean forwards, planting a soft, innocent kiss on his lips.

As you break apart, he hums contently. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, thanks for today. You made my night, Y/N.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Chris.” You watch as he walks over to his apartment door, which is of course, only a few meters away from your own. When he disappears into his own apartment, you sigh, closing your own door behind you. You lean against the frame, letting out a shaky breath, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. It’s been so long since you’ve held any genuine interest in someone, you feel almost giddy.

That is until you see Minho, leaning against the corner of the kitchen wall, watching you with his cheshire smirk.

“Dinner tomorrow, huh?” He asks, walking into the kitchen and scooping himself the last of the pasta.

“What about it?” You retort, not giving in to that pestering look in his eyes.

“Oh, nothing. I’m sure it’ll be good, considering Chan clearly made this,” Minho says, shoveling some of the pasta into his mouth.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, grabbing two wine glasses from the cupboard.

“Save it, the lady at the front desk told me you almost set the apartment on fire,” Minho laughs as you pour the wine.

You let out a groan, handing him his glass. “God dammit.”

“Don’t blame her though,” he smiles, leaning back and taking a sip. “I wouldn’t have believed you could have cooked that anyway.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“Had me fooled for a second there though,” he says, patting you on the head. “But more importantly, you like Chan huh?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right. Nice hickey, by the way,” he smirks, raising his eyebrows.

You pull up the collar of your shirt, casting him a glare. “Okay, maybe I do,” you shrug. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing,” he replies, before taking a second to think. “Just please don’t fuck him or anything tomorrow. Walls are thin.”

You laugh, taking your glass of wine and flopping yourself back down on the living room couch.

“Shut up, Minho.”

~

thanks for reading loves <3

[elysianslove]

Hi lovely!!! I was wondering if you could write a small second part to that Osamu Drabble - where the reader notices Osamu become more quiet and closed off and she has to show him he deserves everything in the world and more (smut or fluff) and then like a fluffy ending???? My heart can’t take the angst T.T but no rush or anything thank you!

i still can’t stop thinking about osamu so,,, absolutely yes i would love to write a part 2!!! part 1 is here <3 

pls i started writing this and got to like 600 words before i realized i was writing a completely different prompt i hate myself ,,, anyways this took me like an hour idk why. felt like i could do samu more justice but :(  

there’s something different, and it only takes you a week to notice. 

there’s something different about everything. about the way osamu loves you, talks to you, hugs you, kisses you, cooks for you, cleans with you, dances with you. your home somehow feels colder, lonelier, like it isn’t home, and it’s so off putting that it’s both frustrating and depressing. and despite the fact that you can recognize that something is off, something is twisted, something is wrong, you don’t understand why, and it’s possibly more angering than anything.

it’s a week and two days when you’re first vocal about it. you’re sitting at your dinner table, picking and pushing at your food mindlessly as you sit across from osamu. he’s quiet, and while that isn’t entirely unusual— osamu likes to think listening is his stronger suit, so you’ve taken up to talking majority of the time you’re together— it still feels off. like he’s purposely silencing himself. it looks as if he’s being weighed down, as if his heart’s too heavy in his chest and his thoughts are too messy to think through. and the fact that he continues to stay silent hurts you more than simply watching him suffer. 

“’samu, baby,” you quietly call out to him, and in response, he simply hums, eyes finding yours and head tilting slightly in question. you can’t be careful enough as you ask, “is everything okay?” 

unsurprisingly, but still as disappointing as ever, he nods, offering a weak smile and a murmur of, “‘course, lovely.” 

you sigh in defeat. 

you try again later that night, as the two of you slip into bed from opposite sides. you ask again, and he smiles weakly, again, offering you a small, practiced excuse of, “just tired, wanna sleep,” before he shuffles beneath the covers. 

for the next few days, you relieve him of your questioning, and instead offer him silent love and reassurance. you urge him to take a bath with you, sitting him down between your legs and scrubbing at his hair, scratching at his scalp reassuringly, kneading and massaging at his muscles. when he comes home from work, every day, you’ve either made him a grand meal or prepared his favorite dessert for later, and yet, he barely eats it, picking at it and taking small bites in order to spare your worry. still, you wake up earlier than him to prepare him breakfast, making him his coffee just the way he likes it, cooking his food just the way he likes it, waking him up with a gentle kiss to his forehead. and still, you lay with him on the couch, head on his chest, tucked beneath his chin, and you lift up your phone to show him a ridiculous video or a funny tweet. 

and still, you love him as quietly as you can, as subtly as you can, because that’s what love has always been for osamu. 

two weeks later, as you lean over the sink in your bedroom’s bathroom, scrubbing and washing at your face, his arms find your waist, and his face finds a place buried in your neck. 

“i love ya, you know that?” his voice is muffled slightly by the thin shirt you wear, but you hear him loud and clear. 

standing up straighter, you lean back into him, and reach up with your hand to card softly through his hair. “i know,” you say, reassuringly adding, “i love you too.” 

quietly, you twist around, only when he lets you of course, and you face him. his arms remain around you, tight around your waist, and you let him hold you close, reaching up to cup his face and urging him to look at you. his eyes are a lot less sadder than they were two weeks before. 

“do you need to talk to me, baby?” you wonder, kindly prodding. “it’s okay if you don’t, but know that i’ll listen if you do.”

osamu sighs deeply, attempting to smile down at you before he nods. “yeah,” he replies, and his voice is shaky and broken and so far away that you hear your heart break in your chest. 

with another soft, “okay,” from you, you lead him to your bedroom, sitting across from him on your bed. he crosses his legs, back to the headboard, and you mirror his position, facing him. he looks so tense as he fidgets with his hands on his lap, gaze faltering. 

“‘samu, you can tell me anything,” you encourage him. “i promise, anything.” 

he seems to consider this, cracking his knuckles, before he opens his mouth and asks, “have ya ever considered leavin’ me for ‘tsumu?” 

you deflate slightly, and give him a confused look, cautiously and curiously asking, “why would i want to do that?” at osamu’s widening eyes, you quickly add, “i love — you. why would i want to leave you? for anyone?”

he fumbles with his next words, hands finding purchase in his trousers, gripping them at the knees. “’m sorry, lovely,” he admits. “i jus’— feel like— forget it, it’s okay.” 

you’re quick to scramble forward, closer to him, your palms settled atop his hands. “no, no, talk to me,” you plead, “please, baby.” his eyes find yours, and god, he looks so— scared. one hand leaves his and reaches up to cup his face instead, your face hovering closer to his. with a gentle, tiny kiss pressed to the corner of his mouth, you whisper out, “i love you, ‘samu; talk to me.” 

“you love me?” his voice is considerable smaller as he says this, as if he’s speaking more to himself than anything. “you love me?” 

“i love you,” you repeat. “i love you and i only want to be with you. no one else. no one, not even atsumu.” 

his eyes are watery as they find yours again, but he bites down harshly on his tongue, only opening his mouth once more when the haziness clears up. “and i’m enough for ya? ya don’t think you can do better? be with better?” he’s not attacking you. 

he’s genuinely asking. 

“wh—“

“yer okay with— with the lesser twin? with just miya atsumu’s brother? ya don’t want more?” 

“‘samu,” you breathe out, and his mouth shuts, but he hadn’t been meaning to say more. he thinks if he had, his lungs would’ve burst. “‘samu, you’re not— you really think so lowly of yourself?” his eyes fall from yours again, but your other hand cups his face, forcing his gaze to firmly settle on yours. “you’re not the lesser twin. neither of you is. you’re two separate people, who have both made and built such wonderful lives for themselves, chasing their own respective passions. you’re not miya atsumu’s brother; you’re miya osamu. you’re miya osamu, owner of onigiri miya, successful businessman, lover of mine, and he’s miya atsumu— some volleyball player, i don’t know—“

he manages a laugh at this, eyes watering again. 

“i love you so much it hurts, ‘samu. and there is so much more to you, so much more that makes you you. that makes you so special, that makes me fall in love with you every single day. the way you style your hair, or the stupid way you crack your eggs, or the really quick way you tie an apron ,or the way you always fluff up your pillows before you sleep, or the way you fold your clothes. that little dance you do when you think nobody can see when you cook something and it turns out looking so good. the way you kiss me goodnight, the way you hold my hand, the way you take pictures of anything and everything and send it to me, be it a really cool looking cloud or a weird assortment or pebbles you’d found on the ground. 

“i feel like loving you is so — easy. as easy as breathing. i wake up every morning and i love you more than the day before. i wake up every morning feeling so sure and so at peace with the fact that i wake up to you every morning. the first though that comes to my mind when i think of anything is you. you’re everything to me. you’re my before, my now, my after. 

“there is no one— no one— that could make me feel the way you do. there is no one i could picture by my side for the rest of my life. no one i wanna wake up with and brush my teeth with and have breakfast with and run stupid, boring errands with and talk about my day with. it’s only you, ‘samu. it’s only ever been you, and it will only ever be you. always you. always you.” 

his arms are gripping at your waist before you can process it, his face buried in your neck as he trembles and shakes. you think you can hear him sniffle, but you don’t pay too much attention. instead, your arms wrap around his neck, climbing onto his lap to be as close to him as possible. you hold each other like this, for hours upon hours, because you don’t know for how long he’d needed this, and you hadn’t realize how much you’d needed it too. 

[dollslayer]

Botanical Interest

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: You’re a florist working the wedding of Brooklyn’s most respected mob boss when you catch the eye of his best man.

W/C: 1557

Warnings: Allusions to violence, swearing, copious amounts of blushing

A/N: My second ever fic! I wrote this as an entry to @stargazingfangirl18 ‘s Soft Dark 5k Challenge (congrats!) using dialogue prompt 9 (bolded) with a Mob!AU. No smut, just fluff. While I’m a sucker for Soft!Dark I thought I’d keep it light and fluffy! Might enter a second one with some darker themes.

I’m brand new to writing and the fandom so if you want you can check out my first fic (also a Mob!AU!) and please reach out with any and all comments or thoughts! I’m eager to know!! Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

_______________________

The first time you saw him you didn’t actually see him because you ran square into him while you were looking the other way. Stubbing your nose right into his chest and nearly spilling the contents of the box you were holding.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going and I’ve got so much to do so I’ve been running around and I just didn’t see you I’m-“

“Forgiven. You’re forgiven, sweetheart” a smoky voice with confidence and amusement informed you.

You loved being a florist but you were short handed for this wedding and needed to get a move on. You wouldn’t have taken the job but the infamous Bucky Barnes, King of Brooklyn himself was getting married. It would be great exposure for you but when a man like him asks something of you you don’t exactly have a choice. In all the chaos of it you didn’t watch your step.

Cheeks still burning with embarrassment, your eyes met those of Barnes’ right hand man, Steve Rogers. Now you weren’t just embarrassed you were nervous.

Taking a step back and shuffling the box in your hands you sent him a sheepish smile. “Right, well, sorry again. I’ve really got a lot to do before the ceremony, so...” trailing off you started to walk away. Just distract yourself with the work and try not to worry whether you’d just offended a member of the mob.

—————————————

Steve nodded and gave you a small smile, letting you return to the task at hand. There was some issue with the venue and the owners were being stubborn but the wedding planner was busy putting out a different fire. So, being the best man that he was, he decided to come down and use his ‘persuasive skills’.

He almost forgot what he was there for as he watched you walk away. Sure, you looked a little crazed in your work but you were cute. Frazzled but determined as you tinkered with the centerpieces, he let himself be distracted for a moment.

Sighing as his phone buzzed asking for an update on the venue, he shook his head. With a scowl he straightened his posture and clenched his fists as he set off in search of the property manager. Poor bastard.

—————————

30 minutes, 2 punches, and one very credible threat later Steve was leaving the manager's office. He held the door and looked at the man one last time, “And I think I’ll stay to make sure you don’t get any ideas about going back on the agreement.”

At least that was his excuse for sticking around. He still had some time before he needed to get changed so he ambled around until he spotted you across the large room. Planting himself against the wall, a tiny smile on his face as he watched you place each stem with care.

You still looked a little pressed but he could tell you were really enjoying what you were doing. He liked to see a woman hard at work and good at what she does. He liked seeing you so flustered earlier when you ran into him. The heat flooding to your face told him you knew exactly who he was. Good.

Bending to reach a stray peony he took a moment to admire your body. He had to wonder if the blush on your face earlier would be the same one you’d have when he’d whisper dirty things into your ear.

Letting his imagination wander a little bit he didn’t realize you’d gone outside. Maybe it was a good time for Steve to step out and have a smoke.

———————————

You felt some relief as you saw him take off in another direction and felt relief. Finally letting yourself relax a bit you started on the arch. You heard yelling from down the hall but decided to ignore it, you didn’t have time to worry about it.

Some time later you were still working on the arch when you noticed something in the corner of your eye. Taking a moment to look up you saw that it was Steve. What was he doing? Whatever. He said he forgave you just focus on the arch. You worked the best you could to not let his presence bother you.

Finally done with the arch, you needed to go back to the van for more supplies and finishing touches. Letting yourself forget about your unexpected company you climbed into the back of the van and hauled out some boxes.

“You need help with that, sweetheart?” He offered.

You hadn’t expected him out here and let out a shriek. Jesus Christ is he following me now? Steve casually walked over to you with a quirk in his brow waiting for an answer.

“I- Uh, no. No, I’m good. I’m great, actually. My assistant is somewhere around so I don’t need help so you can just, uh, go, I guess. Thanks though.” How you managed to get the entire sentence out only stumbling slightly in your words was beyond you.

“Alright. Well if you need some muscle or a strong set of hands... I’ll be around for a while.” He responded while sporting what you were sure was his signature grin.

You watched him make his way back inside and let out the breath you definitely knew you were holding. Just finish the flowers and get out. You can do this.

—————————

The reception was winding down and you waited for the last guests to leave before you started disassembling things. Waiting out back with the van and your assistant you thought back to your awkward interactions with Steve.

You knew he was dangerous, or at least what he did was dangerous. He didn’t say one threatening word to you and he still had your palms sweating. Hopefully the wedding party would be long gone and you wouldn’t have to see him again.

The lights were starting to come up and you put yourself to task but before you did you took a moment to really admire the arch. Hours of work, hundreds of peonies and ranunculus and so much greenery all put together in one beautiful piece. You couldn’t help but snag a picture.

“It really is gorgeous. Not as gorgeous as you though.” That voice again, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Jesus Christ!” Startled for the second time by him that night your anger got the better of you. “What’s your deal huh? Why are you watching me? Am I on some list now?”

He barked out a laugh in response. “I swear I didn’t mean to start watching you, it just sort of... happened” He admittedly almost sheepishly. “You’re cute when you’re focused, you’re also cute when you’re mad.”

You could only blink at him. What do you even say to that? ‘Thanks, I find you terrifying’? “Um, thanks, I guess.” Good enough.

He held his hand out to you. “Steve Rogers.” You held your hand out to shake when he took it and kissed it instead. You stated your name as calm as you could. When he released your hand you noticed some bruises on his knuckles. Lest you forget who he is.

He seemed to notice you caught that detail. “Don’t worry. I don’t hurt anyone who don’t deserve it, certainly could never hurt a pretty face like yours.” You blushed at the compliment and turned your head. 

“I… should probably get back to the flowers. Don’t wanna be here all night.” You shifted your attention to the arch and began the process of dismantling it. 

“I wouldn’t mind it. Here, Doll”. He noticed you searching around for your tools and handed them to you. “Let me help you, these things look heavy”. You really shouldn’t. A piece of you kept placing this warning around him but every time he opened his mouth he was so sweet. How could you say no?

____________________________

So that’s how the big scary mobster found himself surrounded by flowers and skipping out on the after party. He asked you about yourself, how you got into floristry, he listened to you geek out about flowers. You asked him about himself and he did his best to answer while trying not to scare you off. Something about how confident you were in your work but how shy you got reeled him in. He didn’t care who saw him grinning like an idiot at you. 

As he helped you load the last of your things and close the back doors of your van he leaned against it. “So, the Brooklyn Botanic Garden is just around the corner from my place but I’ve never been. Think a professional like you could spare some time for an uninformed punk like myself?” 

______________________________

Was he asking you out? You couldn’t fight the growing smile on your face. You know what he does is… less than ideal but talking to him you really felt good chemistry between the two of you. He was funny and genuine and those moments where he was a little shy telling you about growing up as a scrawny kid had you feeling like you were peeking in on a side of him that you’d never expect. You looked up at him still smiling.

“Oh what the hell? When are you free?”

[bump1nthen1ght]

I’m Still Hurting (F!Reader/M!Orc)

Pairings: Fem!Reader/Male!Orc

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Angst

Warnings: (Almost) Infidelity

Word Count: 3376 words

Summary: Your boyfriend does something he’d never thought he’d do, and you’re left to try and pick up the pieces.

Request: can I make a request? About an angst story between an m!orc and f!human. I like the idea of like maybe the orc sorta misses being with other orc women or like she can't fulfill his needs and she hears this. I like the idea of almost infidelity

A/N: Surprise bitches! I’m alive! And back with some delicious angst for y’all!! I really loved doing this request, as I don’t often write full on angst. I am also working on a fluffy request  at the moment, if some of you would like some nice comfort after this haha. Hope y’all enjoy!

Honey ❤️: Babe

Honey ❤️: Babe please answer the phone I need to talk to you

Honey ❤️: I know you’re angry, you should be angry, but please talk to me

Honey ❤️: Baby please

“____? Is that my phone?” Brynn yells from the kitchen, already mixing another cocktail for you to down. Her bright red horns peek over the living room divider, bouncing back as she grabs the alcohol from the fridge. Still looking at your bright screen, you don’t even have the energy to respond.

“____?” You throw your phone away as she peaks her head over, giving her a shameful look. Brynn furrows her brow, pulling away from the kitchen island and putting one hand on her hip. “Was that him?” With your eyes darting back and forth from the pillow you shoved your phone under and Brynn’s face, you nod.

“Y-yeah, it was him.”

Brynn sighs, fiddling with her hands.

“Listen, I don’t want to tell you what to do, especially not tonight, but I just think-”

“No, no, it’s alright. You’re right, you’re right.” A jolt hits you as your phone vibrates, the vibrations rumbling through the fabric and stabbing right into your stomach. You force yourself to look away, fiddling with your fingers. Brynn shoots you a pitiful look, you’re sure of it, even as your efuse to meet her gaze. “I shouldn’t talk to him tonight. Not right now, not when I’m like….this.” A slow, tired breath escapes you. “I’ll make him wait, just like he did.”

The coach cushion bends as Brynn sits next to you, rubbing your shoulder as she leans in for a side each. You accept it, your body like a deadweight as you let yourself go slack in her arms.

“Do you want anything? Chocolate, maybe a movie? I’ve got some leftover cheesecake?”

“A movie sounds nice.” You murmur, nodding against her chest. Brynn hums, her tail coming up and massaging your lower back as she kisses you on the forward.

“Of course, your choice. Do you want me to get your drink?”

You nod once more, letting Brynn untangle herself from the hug and laying back on the couch, grabbing the comfiest blanket and the remote. You quickly flick through you and Brynn’s ‘most watched’ section on Netflix. You need something new tonight, something to get your mind off.

All your regular comfort movies are romances, after all.

By the time Brynn comes back, a rum and coke and a carton of ice cream in hand, you’re already snuggled into a blanket burrito. She hands you a spoon and the glass, which you wordlessly accept. She sits down and throws a hand over your shoulder, trying her best to massage the left over tension in your neck. You sink into the feeling, pressing on your movie of choice.

“Mad Max: Fury Road, huh? I’ve heard this movie’s great.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, “It is.”

And chocked full of shitty men getting what they deserve.

As the opening title plays, the deep voice of Tom Hardy kicking the movie off, you snuggle into Brynn’s side. Your phone buzzes again, but it’s drowned out by screaming men and loud engines. Just how you like it.

Honey ❤️: Could you call me in the morning?

Honey ❤️: I’ll leave you alone for the night, I’m sorry

Honey ❤️: I love you

--------

Waruck sighs, his fingers shaking as another small ‘message delivered’ shows up on his screen. No response, just like the last 15 texts. He finds himself typing out another anyway.

I love you so fucking much

It reads, but is quickly deleted. Waruck clicks off his phone, but it stays in his hand, taunting him. The black mirror shows a sad, pathetic boyfriend, getting the silent treatment.

He falls back onto his bed, exhausted from a day of doing nothing. Nothing but worrying and feeling guilty, with the occasional flicking through TV channels and texting his girlfriend.

It’s getting late, his bedside clock cutting through the dark of his room to remind him he’s been up for almost 16 hours now. Waruck slides a hand through his hair and gets up. He’s going to have to camp out in front of the TV, because he knows he won’t be able to sleep tonight.

Not after what he did.

--------

He had gone out with friends. Friends from highschool who he still occasionally chatted with, friends he didn’t even really like anymore. But the past two weeks had him feeling oddly...nostalgic, like something was out of place. So when his buddy Simon had invited him to the bar, he had eagerly accepted.

He remembers grabbing his coat, you sending him a text to have fun, and him not replying. He didn’t know why he didn’t respond, he still doesn’t. The two of you had been going strong for almost 8 months now, with only the occasional hiccup that most couples have. So why didn’t he respond? What made him casually throw your sweet remark to the side like that?

Waruck shakes his head, trying to focus on the movie in front of him. Now isn’t the time to get existential over tiny shit like that, not with how the rest of the night went.

When he met up with the group, Waruck immediately knew that tonight was going to be different. His current group of friends are quite different, less rowdy, than his old posse. At only 10 PM, three of the guys we’re already halfway drunk, saving a spot in line from him outside the noisy bar. The electronic music that thrummed through the concrete and out onto the street reminded him of how much time has passed, how different his usual party-scene is now, and he revels in that feeling of former good-times.

Simon greets him with a hug, the guys shouting his name as he joins them. From the corner of his eye, he sees a gaggle of girls giggling.

And that's where it started.

An orc woman, dressed in a beautiful black dress, winks as she passes him at the bar. Simon nudges his side as Waruck takes a drink.

“Dude, that chick is totally sending you the look”

Waruck furrows his brow, stirring his drink.

“What’s ‘the look’?” He says, taking another sip of his scotch.

Simon rolls his eyes. “The ‘come hit on me’ look dude! That’s the sign you need to go for it!”

“I have a girlfriend, Simon.”

Simon scoffs, throwing his hand out dramatically. “What, that human chick?”

Waruck has half of mind to set down his drink and ask Simon what he means with that sarcastic tone of voice. It pisses him off, but he says nothing, just rolls his eyes.

“No offense, bro, she looks cute and all. But is she really worth missing out on some great ass?”

Waruck grimaces and shoots Simon a dirty look. “Jesus, Simon, are you serious?”

“I’m serious! When was the last time you had fun, y’know? Everyone knows an orc chick can throw down, wild-style.” Simon nudges him in his side, playfully, but it only serves to make Waruck more annoyed. “C’mon, you seriously don’t miss it?”

Waruck should tell him a firm ‘No’, finish his drink, and leave. He should call a cab and go home, call you and rant about his gross misogynistic friend from high school.

But he doesn’t.

The part of him, the part of him that feels slightly off, wonders if this is it. It had been a long time since he had been with another orc. You were a great girlfriend, but so different from in so many ways. Is that it?

Maybe relieving the old days will satisfy whatever longing he has, and then it will leave forever. Would that be so bad, to let loose for one night?

Waruck feels a tap on his shoulder, and turns to see the orc girl from earlier; The one who sent him ‘the look’.

“Hey handsome, can I buy you a drink?”

Between the boosted bass of the music and the orc woman pressing up against him, Waruck doesn’t notice Simon slip away, giving him a pat on the back.

Leave, say no, tell her she’s got the wrong guy, you fucking idiot. His consciousness yells.

“U-uh, sure.” He stutters.

She introduces herself as Naz and says she noticed him the minute he walked in.

“Hard not to notice the best-dressed guy in the room.” She flirts, pressing herself closer and up against him.

He has a thousand little moments like that, to say something; To pull back and apologize, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he slips into a corner booth with her, purposely ignoring the texts you send to check up on him. You had remembered that he wasn’t sure how much fun this night would be, and routinely checked in if he needed a convenient excuse to leave early. You’re sweet like that.

Naz is sweet too. She's a great conversationalist, with a good head on her shoulders and an interesting career in zoology. Waruck could see the two of you being good friends.

Is that why she seems so alluring? Because she’s so similar to you? Waruck’s mind does mental gymnastics to try and justify his hesitance, his compliance in believing that maybe she has something different after all, even though he knows that isn’t true.

The two of them talk for a solid hour and a half, Naz slowly inching herself closer and putting a hand on his knee. His body screams in resistance, his stomach tying up into knots, but he doesn’t push her away.

“So, I’ve got a room not too far from here. What do you say we go make ourselves a bit more comfortable?”

This is his final chance to find an excuse and say goodnight. To run back home and forget this ever happened. But the words are caught in his throat and he’s further silenced by the nearby whooping of his asshole friends.

“Yeah, Waruck! Get some!”

Naz chuckles and mistakenly reads his seething anger at himself with embarrassment for his friends. She leans in, grabbing his jaw, and whispers.

“Let's give them a show, huh?” Then, she kisses him.

The noises of the bar, his friends, and Naz all drown away as her lips mold into his. Waruck’s body goes rigid, terrified as time seems to freeze as he kisses someone who is not his girlfriend.

But all of that stops when your ringtone begins to blast in his pocket. It should be near silent when compared to the pounding bar music, but that familiar jingle seems to cut deep into his skin and skewer his heart. Waruck pulls away with a quick jerk, Naz almost falling over as he pushes himself into his seat and away from her body-heat. Every nerve is a light with tension as he quickly pulls out his phone.

There on the screen is a picture of you, your contact name, “Sweetie❤️”, shining through the dimmed light of that bar. Waruck breathes heavily, feeling like he’s just run an emotional marathon, stuck in his own head until Naz slides away from him.

“Wait, hold on, do you have a girlfriend?”

Waruck looks at her, then looks at his still-ringing phone, then back to Naz. He nods.

Naz's face curls up into obvious disgust, quickly directing her body to be as far away from him as possible. “Fucking hell, dude. What the fuck?” She grabs her handbag and stomps out of the booth, not before throwing her drink in his face and telling him to go to hell.

He almost watches her move across the bar, most likely to go complain to her friends about the asshole she just wasted the last 2 hours chatting up, but all he can focus on is your picture on his phone.

--------

Waruck practically runs out of the bar, his whole body covered in sweat and his mind racing a mile a minute.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He felt like a 15 year old, goaded into another shitty prank just because he wanted to look cool in front of his friends, buying into their weird bullshit about humans. Was he seriously going to throw away your wonderful relationship over one night, over one urge?

Naz had been strikingly beautiful, in all the ways he was taught an orc like himself should look for. She could probably get any guy in that club tonight, but she wasn’t you. You’re different, but in so many cool, inconsequential, uniquely-you ways.

Waruck doesn’t know how long he walks before he sits down outside a cafe, trying to collect his racing emotions. He feels gross, sticky with the kind of sweat you only get after too much alcohol and too many people. The screen of his phone seems to reflect every smudge and finger-print as he swipes it to unlock it, finally getting the courage to read your text messages.

They start off normal, spread out over several hours. The occasional “How are the guys?” and “Hope you are having fun! Just let me know when you get home safe.” before dropping off into nothing. Right up until 20 minutes ago, where you send a short and curt text that has his heart dropping to his stomach.

Sweetie❤️: Can you call me right now?

Sweetie❤️: Waruck, I need to talk to you

Sweetie❤️: Are you still at the bar?

After that is a notification of your missed call from earlier and Waruck can’t help but feel  guilt stir in his gut.

It could be nothing, something unrelated to what he almost did tonight. But the notification he gets from his Instagram says otherwise. It says a mutual of his tagged him in a photo 30 minutes ago.

Waruck feels like vomiting when he opens up Simon’s story and sees a shaky picture of Naz, draped over him in the corner booth, with him looking all too happy to have her there. The caption reads

“At least someone’s getting lucky tonight 🤣🤣 #BoysNight20XX”

But what comes next is even worse; An even blurrier photo of Naz kissing him, both of their eyes closed as she almost sits in his lap.

Waruck can’t even look at the caption, quickly exiting out of the app and calling you.

He needs to explain himself.

But what will he say?

The phone rings, rings, rings….

Waruck waits with bated breath, thinking you’re going to let it go to voicemail, but you answer. There is no cheerful “Hi Babe” or even a tired and drawn-out “Hey.” Instead all Waruck hears is a shaky sigh, waiting for an explanation.

The words stay caught in Warucks throat, trying to find a way to maneuver and swing around to a solid excuse, a lie he hopes you won’t catch.

But he can’t, he can’t. Not to you.

So you make it easy for him, like you always do, and start the conversation off instead.

“Were you flirting with that girl?”

Waruck’s mind doesn’t give him a choice, the truth already spilling out like a tidal wave.

“Yes.”

Waruck hears you suck in a breath, before you shakily ask once more,

“Did you kiss her? Did you kiss her back?”

“Yes.”

There's 15 seconds of brutal silence as Waruck sits with his confession. In the moment, Waruck feels like he can hear your pounding heartbeat through the receiver.

You hang up.

---------

You hate the weather outside for two reasons.

One: You had far too much rum last night to enjoy any amount of sunlight. And,

Two: On a terrible morning like this one, it feels unfair that there aren't any dramatic thunder storms.

The bell rings on the cafe door as you walk in, causing you to wince as you pull down your sunglasses.

Thank god for the low lighting of these cafes.

You rub your brow, eyes scanning the menu above the bar. Some caffeine should do you good, at least with your headache.

But when you spot him, tucked away at a table, tapping his foot, all that aching pain seems to fall to your subconscious. Before you can meet eyes, you look away, forcing yourself to re-read the menu and blink away your tears.

You face the inevitable when you put in your order, turning to walk towards Waruck. He’s locked his gaze into the wood grain of the table, his large body hunched up and small, like he wants to sink into the shadows. He looks like shit, with large bags under his eyes and a nervous tension in his face.

He startles when you pull out a chair, sitting down across from him, but quickly curls back into his ball of shame. He looks so guilty, a small part of you wants to comfort him and tell him it’ll be alright.

You punch away that part of you with a baseball bat.

“Why did you flirt with her?”

Waruck says nothing. He looks at you with his tired eyes, big and racked with guilt.

I don’t know. They whisper.

Your fingers dig into your jeans, anger boiling up and through your nerves.

That’s not a good enough answer.

“Were you,” You suck in a breath, trying to control your volume, “Were you going to sleep with her? If I hadn’t called you, would you have-”

“No!” Waruck nearly shouts, shaking the table as his knees bang against the bottom, but he recoils once he sees the way you flinch. “No, I wasn’t going to.”

Those pesky tears press against your eyelids once more. You can feel your nails digging indents into your thighs.

“I don’t know if  I can believe that.” You whisper, failing to catch the crack in your voice.

Waruck’s brow furrows as he nervously chews his bottom lip. He tries to meet your gaze, but you seem to look right through him.

“I know.” Waruck sighs, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

There's a tenuous silence; Waruck tries to find the words to fix things  while you focus on the details of the cafe walls, examining every nook and cranny as you try not to sob.

“I-I understand if you don’t trust me. I understand if you hate me, or you want to break up. But please, please know that I love you, and that I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I’ve been kicking myself over flirting with that girl because I love you so fucking much. I-”

You hold up your hand, stopping Waruck in his tracks. He realizes how loud he’s been talking and that people are beginning to stare. He huddles back into his corner, tucking his hands into his lap. You let out a long breath. Waruck takes the risk and looks up.

When his eyes finally meet yours, he realizes just how sad you look. A treacherous tear has begun falling down your cheek, sending a lightning bolt of remorse into Waruck’s chest.

You take in another deep breath, wiping away the tear with the back of your hand. You look at Waruck, exhausted.

“I don’t,”  You falter, but catch yourself, “I don’t want to break up with you. I just don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you yet.”

Waruck nods, fiddling with his fingers.

“Of course, I get it-”

“I’m not done.” Waruck quickly shuts his mouth. “You hurt me, Waruck. Hurt me in a way I don’t think I’ll ever forget. So I need time. Time before I can even see you again without thinking,” You hiccup, but this time you let the wave of emotion hit you, full force.  “Without thinking about that night.”

A lady calls out your order, but neither of you makes a move. You sit in each other's presence, trying to wrap yourselves around the mess of emotions, trying to read the others mind without seeming too obvious.

You both sit here, in the presence of something that's been broken, damaged in a way that’s cut the heart of your chest and slams them on the table. There’s a crack that runs down between you two, inching open more and more with each breath.

But somehow, somehow, you both think you have a chance of fixing it.

[its-me-im-coraline]

Cry Baby // Ethan Torchio // Playist Fic

words // 1244

warnings // angst angst angst, mentions of struggling with mental illnesses but nothing graphic, but also fluffy caring Ethan

pairing // Ethan Torchio x GN!Reader

author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. aghhhh this is the first fic on my little playlist thingy omg and i am excited although this is v angsty oops. If you don't know what this is supposed to be, i have a playlist tagged on my masterlist, you can send in a song from there or an entirely different one and I use that song, the lyrics and the feeling its music gives me to write a fic.

song is cry baby by the neighbourhood

also, maybe im projecting or maybe im affected by fallon carrington singing her wedding vows lol. also the photo of ethan here, sooooo cute

request // nope

summary // Reader has a hard time trusting people. When Ethan comes into their life it get’s worse. Reader is preparing for unavoided heartbreak but Ethan just might change their mind heart.

They were too stuck in their own thoughts for this relationship. Maybe it started at the wrong time or it was the perfect time but they had the wrong mind. They felt like a narcissist, making everything about them, while having a hard time hearing his side.

He was perfect, too perfect to ever be in this relationship, and maybe that thought scared them. Living around people who only cared about themselves, people who never cared how much they hurt Y/N, they were afraid to admit they might be doing the same to him.

They had not been together for long, only a few months, but the man acted as if he knew them forever. He did not care if they knew each other for a month or five, he was not willing to let them suffer alone. There were the two am panic attacks, calling Ethan at that time, waking him from his sleep, crying about the inability to calm their mind and sleep. He never complained. Or the days he spend at their house, Y/N having a hard time getting off bed, the depressive episodes hitting a little too hard; Ethan spend those days rubbing their back, making sure that they were alright.

Maybe that is what drove Y/N to be defensive, maybe their mind was alarmed by the man’s caring behavior -something so unfamiliar yet needed for them- that they felt defensive every time he was around. Maybe they spoke too much, and they thought the man would be scared away from them. “I’m not going away, Y/N, not for a long time, not at all if it’s on my hand,” he’d say after every fight, when Y/N would say yet another thing they did not mean. He was just too perfect.

“I really meant what I said that, Y/N,” he all but whispered to his lover. “I do love you.”

“Don’t say that, Ethan. How do you even know, it’s too soon!” Excuses, excuses, excuses and more excuses to plain and simple sabotage to themselves.

“You just know, when you know, amore, and I do.”

They could not look at his eyes anymore, afraid that with just one glance from the man their tears would fall, their guards would fall. And, if they let the guards fall even for a moment, it made them vulnerable to twice the heartbreak. So their eyes stayed glued to the floor, never leaving or daring to think about looking elsewhere. Every other place felt like a danger zone.

“You don’t have to say it back, amore, but you can not expect me not to.”

The fear never left, the fear that the young man was lying. He could not actually feel that way, could he?

Just as Y/N spiraled into yet another anxiety attack, there he was again with his soothing words and his soft touch on their face, his breath so close and so fresh hitting their face. “I’ve got you, it’s ok, follow my breath baby, come on, you are doing amazing, that’s it…” It did not take long for them to calm down a bit. Maybe it was the fact that a person finally respected their emotions rather than getting offended by them, but they felt safe even if only for a moment. “I’m here, I love you.”

It kept happening, over and over and over again. The man would profess his love but his love was not ready to believe him. It got him exhausted. He did not mind waiting for them to say the words back, he understood their past and their pain and how hard it is to vocalize something you feel. What he did mind was their active refusal to believe him, so it was the time to confront them.

“Hey, Y/N, do you have a moment?” If a single phrase could put their mind in a frenzy it was this one. The words could not form so they simply nodded their head, moving towards the sitting man.

“Look, Y/N, I-”

“If you are to break up with me just do it,” they said, the words leaving their mouth before even getting the chance to be filtered. They did not want to say that, hell they simply did not want Ethan to break up with them, but the fear was impossible to be hidden.

“What?! Amore, are you even listening to yourself?” He was exasperated. How could Y/N possibly think that, even now, after almost a year together. It hurt the man, it hurt him how much they refused to open up but it also hurt him that someone caused that fear to them before.

“I know what is happening, Ethan. I know I am hurting you with my inability to say those stupid words back. I’ve heard what you said to Victoria the other night -I did not mean to (!)-” “Hey, hey, let’s pause for a second there, amore. I’m not breaking up with you, that is not the problem. But, if you really heard what I said to Vic that night you would not be saying what you are,” he paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, holding his lover’s face between his palms, “I’ve told you countless times I love you, and I will never take that back. I know you do, too. You don’t say it but you show it, but my love, the issue is not the words. The issue is you don’t believe me.”

Y/N was left speechless, not knowing what to say to the man besides that he is right. They’ve been having a really hard time believing that they even slightly deserve this love, the love that the Italian drummer in question has given them more than enough of. He was so kind, so caring, so loving that the more the relationship progressed the harder they found it to believe in his words.

“You can’t possibly truly love me, Ethan,” Y/N said calmly, tears in their eyes, mostly from anger, anger targeted at their mind.

“Then why are you even with me, Y/N? Huh? If you don’t believe that why are we together for almost a year now?!” The high volume of his voice was a stark contrast to the soft and collected tone he usually had, but his emotions were starting to take over and it was utterly obvious at this point.

Y/N did not know what to do, being left speechless for the second time in less than two minutes. Their mind raced for an excuse, a reason as to why they kept being with him if they really did not believe him, until the answer came to them and it was like a lightbulb going off: “Because I know that I love you.”

It came out almost as a whisper, as if the words were trying to not be heard. It was a strain of their voice, a sudden sob accompanying the words that broke Ethan’s heart. His love, his sweet, sweet love, the person he could not stop yearning for no matter how close they were… they were hurt, afraid of being loved - or more so afraid of being lied to. Ethan pulled Y/N into his arms, hands rubbing comforting cycles, lips letting the sweetest of nothings to come out.

“It’s ok, it’s alright, I got you, I’m here, I’m holding you, I am not leaving, I love you.”

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11

[dinosaurtsukki]

dating the armed detective agency’s medic

a/n: of course i have to write one for the ADA even though i’m a biased port mafia bitch. there’s a bit more characters here so i’ll try to keep each one short but still very fluffy and sweet <3

this man is always getting himself injured and even though agency has yosano, fukuzawa thought it would be a good idea to hire another medic who could deal with less life-threatening injuries

ofc dazai flirts with you the first chance he gets and every time he comes into your clinic

dazai: good morning my dear belladonna! the weather is beautiful today, but not as beautiful as you of course

you: YOUR ARM IS BROKEN PLEASE SIT DOWN

although as much as he likes to slightly mess with you, dazai genuinely enjoys coming to the clinic and being treated by someone like you

he likes observing your hands and how careful they are when they bandage his arm or that cute little scrunch of your brows when you’re bandaging his forehead

while on a mission, atsushi and kunikida go the extra length to protect dazai because they know you’re worried about him 

and then one day dazai comes into your clinic again and instantly you think that something has happened

until he surprises you by bringing out a bouquet of flowers

‘if i get injured less on missions, would you let me take you out on a date?’

jokes on you though after you guys date dazai finds every excuse to visit you in the clinic

he’ll get papercuts on purpose just so he can get you to put a bandage on them 

kunikida is annoyed because dazai they’re just papercuts jfc also please go back to work

seeing that you’re always concerned about his health and well-being, dazai finds himself making much less attempts cause he knows the stress it puts on you when you have to bandage him up after and make sure he’s alright

thanks to you our man is able to take care of himself a bit more

even though he is your boyfriend he’s still going to mess with you in any way he can

he’ll barge into your office claiming that his chest hurts because you didn’t give him a kiss that morning

also will highkey hug you from behind even if you’re treating another patient

the first time he meets you is for a physical exam check-up because it was required at the agency and he feels embarrassed at first seeing that the agency’s medic was gorgeous

atsushi was fresh out of the orphanage so of course he was quite malnourished and still had some injuries from his abuse

you had no idea who’d dare hurt such a sweet boy so you do your best to treat him and instructed atsushi to come in for some follow-up check-ups

although when he comes in for that check-up he talks about how he’s been healthy because he eats a lot of chazuke and you’re like ‘oh no, no, no, please eat other things too’

you end up packing him a bento box because he’s your patient so ofc you have to keep him healthy 

the two of you run into each other a lot in the morning because atsushi tends to come in way earlier than he’s supposed to so you often find him sitting in front of the locked door

thus begins your early morning chats. atsushi’s always polite and never interrupts when you talk and you love how he shows so much interest in whatever you say

atsushi began to realize that he has feelings for you but boy is he bad at concealing them also ranpo kind of busted him in front of everyone in the agency including you

but atsushi was saved by you hinting that you wouldn’t mind going on a date with him at all and he’s ecstatic until he realizes he hasn’t been on a date before

he takes you out to a nice restaurant and insists on paying for everything

nothing much changes with your routine but atsushi likes to bring you breakfast in the morning and the two of you have little dates before going into the office

he knows how worried you get when he goes out on especially dangerous missions but he does everything he can to protect the city and the new home he found with the agency and you

this guy was one of the people, other than yosano and fukuzawa, who interviewed you for the job and you can’t forget how intense he was when it came to asking questions

of course, you answered all of them well but kunikida was very serious that you knew how dangerous it could be to be involved with the agency

there was a self-defense portion in the interview that you knew about and of course kunikida was the one who added that

to his pleasant surprise, you managed to dodge all his incoming attacks (kunikida lowkey found it hot, like that’s requirement number ten on his list checked right there)

kunikida does get injured a fair amount during missions and he doesn’t want to get dissected by yosano all the time so he goes to your clinic that’s right near the office

he likes how efficiently you work and how gentle your hands are that even when you’re stitching up his wound he almost can’t feel a thing

however, kunikida does have a bad habit of not resting for the appropriate number of days. like, even with a bullet wound he’ll still hobble over to his desk to finish his paperwork

once, he came down with a terrible case of the flu so of course you sent him home only for kunikida to sneak back into the office when he thought no one was looking

you ended up taking kunikida home but poor guy could barely do anything by himself so you took care of him too

kunikida is definitely the delirious babbling when he’s sick so he ends up talking about his list of traits for an ideal woman and how you filled out a good portion of it

when he wakes up (much more sane) he sees you reading that list on his notebook and he’s like WAIT WHAT ARE YOU DOING

he handed you the notebook personally before passing out and kunikida can’t live it down

you: well, even if i don’t match all these requirements, would you still be interested in going out?

kunikida: yes... please

everyone can tell that kunikida’s about to go on a date because of how nervous he is the entire day

he knows how tight your schedule can be and how busy he is with with work but he always makes time to have his lunchbreak with you

loves to hear about your day and even has some space in his notebook dedicated to any interesting stories you have

the first time you met him was when he also had his physical check-up which ranpo insisted he didn’t need but fukuzawa made him so he had no choice but to follow

the entire time ranpo’s just like ‘nothing’s wrong with me, see?’ and then you do a simple dental check-up and find that he has like two cavities he didn’t want to tell anyone about it because he’s scared of the dentist *cue ranpo trying to run away and you grabbing him by the poncho*

of course fukuzawa makes him go to the dentist too but ranpo insists that you have to be the one to take him and schedule the appointment and come along

truth be told, you’ve always been pretty attracted to ranpo because you know of his skill as a detective so you were excited to have this day with him

only for you to have to physically restrain ranpo to the dentist’s chair (you even had to call kenji to help) while his teeth was getting checked

ranpo was squeezing your hand the entire time and he was fairly grumpy after the whole ordeal that he wouldn’t even talk to you until he asked if you could get ice cream

you: the dentist just told you to eat less sweets

ranpo: but i neeeeed them

you: fine, how about frozen yogurt?

after the dentist trip, you know how much of a hard time ranpo has with eating less sweets so you decide to leave fruit on his desk as a healthier alternative but he won’t TOUCH IT

after some bribery on fukuzawa’s part (’i’ll acknowledge you if you eat fruit more and also tell atsushi to give you a piggyback ride every day’) he finally concedes

he actually finds himself liking fruit so in the afternoon he’ll swing by the office just in time for you to be slicing fruit

ranpo gets over the fact that you sent him to the dentist and enjoys his time in the clinic eating fruit with you and sleeping on the cots inside

your clinic is where he hides when he doesn’t want to do work and when he pouts and asks you to say that he’s sick you can’t help but go along with it

he’s also super physically affectionate around you. will literally have his body draped over yours sometimes while you work

people start talking about how you two look good there and one time someone asked if the two of you are dating and ranpo’s like ‘of course we are!’

and you’re surprised self is about to protest when ranpo smirks at you and says ‘why? am i wrong?’

lmao ofc he’s not you’ve been struggling to keep yourself from being a flustered mess around him

he’s still clingy around you but this time he comes into the clinic every few minutes to ask for a kiss

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taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @atsumu-brainrot​ @laure-chan @goodfoodxoxoxo ​ @guardianangelswings @ah-kaashi @amberalisa​