#stop trying to make it unique it looks dumb

[deadroses-17]

Please think about teachers when naming your child. Stop spelling Steven as Stephen. Ph makes a fucking F sound. Hate it here

[freedomfireflies]

Our Place*

Summary: An extra for 404*

The one where Harry invites you back to his apartment for the first time and it doesn't go as planned.

Word Count: 1.7k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, breeding kink, angst (happy ending), use of a safe word

Harry’s apartment is nicer than you expected. 

The furniture is cozy, the décor is unique, and his bedroom is well kept. He even has fresh flowers on his kitchen table. 

It surprised you, even though it shouldn’t. Harry doesn’t seem like a dirty guy, but truthfully, you were still shocked to find he had both sheets on his bed and no clothes on the ground.

You take in the tiny details of his life as he kisses down your neck and slips his fingers into your jeans. He’d wrangled you onto the bed only seconds after you walked through the door. He didn’t want to give you a tour of the whole apartment. Just the bedroom. Which you were more than all right with. 

He’s oddly desperate, given the circumstances. Maybe he always is, but tonight feels different. Tonight feels…hopeful.

“Shit, Tink,” he groans into your ear when he feels how wet you’ve become. “S’this just because you rode my bike?”

You gently swat the back of his head. “Stop it.”

“What?” He noses under your jaw. “Felt you squirming back there, Princess. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice how you were trying to get yourself off to the vibrations?”

You wince. You didn’t even realize you’d been doing it. “I was not, I was just…the adrenaline was a lot—”

“Uh-huh.” He laughs and something about it sounds like honey. “S’fine, baby. You know I don’t mind.”

“Well…I wasn’t—”

“Sure. Can I fuck you now?”

You huff. “That’s why I’m here.”

He rips your jeans down your legs, tossing them over his shoulder and somewhere onto the floor. The warm air feels good and it’s then that you realize he’s right. You’re soaked, all the way through your panties.

But instead of taunting you further, he only tugs them aside and pulls his cock out. 

“I think…” he murmurs as he lines himself up, “…it’s high time I got you pregnant.”

Your mouth falls open in a moan as he drops a glob of spit onto your clit and pushes in.  

You’ve noticed that his breeding kink makes an appearance more often than not these days. Which you aren’t exactly complaining about. After all, you have one, too. Mostly thanks to him.

But it surprises you all the same as he starts to work himself in and out of your tight cunt, whispering the filthiest promises. 

“Think I won’t do it, hm? I will. Swell this pretty belly with my cum. S’what it was made for, wasn’t it? To take me. Have my babies. Gonna stretch you so pretty…get your tits leaking. You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you, Princess?”

You try to respond but how can you? You feel as though you’ve been fucked dumb. Unable to hear anything past the pounding of blood in your ears.

His glasses start to slip down his nose. He almost always takes them off—they’re mostly for reading anyway. But you like the look of them. Like how studious it makes him seem...how scandalous.

So, you nudge them back up. Desperate to see him exactly the way he always is.

He smirks. “You all right there, Tink?”

You nod weakly. “Yes…yeah. M’fine.”

“Thinking about what I said?” He kisses down your chest. “Thinking about calling me Daddy for real? Having our babies?"

Our. A word you didn’t think belonged to you. Because Harry doesn’t belong to you. And you don’t belong to him. You’re two separate people. Even when you fuck, he’s in his world and you’re in yours. You weren’t meant to be an “our.”

You chalk this up to a slip of the tongue. Something you say when you're threatening to breed someone. And you choose not to give it any power. Because you know what happens if you do.

The fucking gets harder. Faster. He’s chasing a high. In fact, he's been chasing it since earlier in the bar when he saw you with another man. And you know he’s trying to hold off for you, but he wants to cum. He wants to paint your belly with his seed and fuck it back in. Wants to make good on his word even if he shouldn’t.

Your nails scratch down his back, damp and covered in sweat. But his muscles feel good in your hands and you whimper as you hike a leg over his hip and bury him in your pussy.

In your lust-filled haze, your attention drifts. Head rolling to the side as you focus on the soft grunts in your ear. 

But then, your eyes find something on his dresser.

Your heart stops.

In fact, everything stops. Your breathing, your noises, your gentle rolls to meet his thrusts.

It all stops. And you whisper, “Red.”

He quickly falls still. A rather impressive feat given how anxious he is to find release. From 100 to 0 in only seconds, and you almost feel guilty as you sense him glance at you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks through labored inhales. “What…what happened, what do you want me to do?”

But you don’t look back. You keep your focus on the piece of furniture in the corner of his room and you will yourself not to cry.

Eventually, he looks, too. And when he realizes, the air in the room shifts.

He lets out a soft sigh and drops his hand to your hip. Squeezing it once. “Tink…”

You say nothing. Tears are pooling behind your lashes and your chest feels tight. 

“Tink,” he tries again, firm. His grip tightens on your waist. “Tinkerbell—"

“She’s beautiful,” you breathe. You take in a soft gasp. “Oh, my god, Harry, she’s…she’s so beautiful.”

He’s quiet for only a moment. “Yeah. She was,” he agrees gently.

You can’t take your eyes away from the picture frame. The guilt is so much worse now than it was before. Your heart is in your throat, in your ears, lying on the floor next to your jeans. 

You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. In his bed—their bed—fucking the man she died loving. While he promises to get you pregnant and give you his babies.

And how is he so calm? How the fuck is he looking at her picture while still inside of you instead of screaming at you to leave his apartment? How can he be okay with cheating on her with you?

“Princess,” he says again, and grabs onto your jaw to force your focus back to him. “Talk to me, what do you want me to do?”

Your lashes flutter. “What?”

“You said red,” he reminds you. “Which means we stop. But I need to know if you’re in pain or if I can pull out?”

It takes a moment for you to blink the fog from your mind and understand. But when you do, your stomach wrenches. “I…wait, shit, I…I want you to finish, I just…I saw her photo, and—”

“I know,” he interrupts softly. He gives you a gentle smile. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been there. But red means stop. And we’re gonna honor that. No matter why you said it.”

You whimper. “Harry, wait—”

“I’m gonna pull out,” he says, ignoring your plea. “And then we’re gonna talk—”

“Harry…Harry come on, you can’t—”

But he does. Even though he winces as slips himself out, teeth gritting together to keep from coming. 

But once he’s out, he delicately closes your legs, and sits beside you. “Okay,” he begins. He keeps your eyes on him. “What’s going on up there?” 

He nods at your forehead and you want to cry. “Nothing, I just…I…”

“You’ve never seen her before.”

You shake your head. “I don’t think so.”

“And you weren’t expecting to see her now,” he says for you. “Especially when we were fucking.”

You sniffle. “It felt like we were cheating. Like I was helping you hurt her. And then…and then I got worried that maybe you only brought me back here so you could pretend I was her. You know? With all the stuff about…about babies…and us, and…and—”

“Okay, breathe,” he instructs. He cups your cheek and presses his thumb to your trembling lips. “Breathe, Tink. Slow.”

Forced to obey, you suck in shallow gasps for air until your heart rate slows and your head doesn’t feel so dizzy.

Pleased, he says, “I know you’re not her, Tink. I don’t want you to be.”

Your expression softens.

“I brought you here because you’re the only person I want to see in the place she once lived,” he continues. His voice is strong. Steady. Like he’s given this far more thought than you anticipated. “After she died, I left it the same. I didn’t touch anything. Not the furniture she picked out. Not the dumb, cute little bowls she insisted we buy. Not the coffee pot that doesn’t work but she loved because she swore it made her coffee taste better. None of it.”

The tears fall down your cheeks, fast and without mercy. 

“I didn’t invite people over because I wanted to pretend she still lived here,” he tells you. “I wanted it to still be our place. Not just mine. And the thought of bringing someone else back here felt…wrong.”

You grab onto his wrist to keep his hand close and he smiles. 

“And then you,” he murmurs, dipping down to nuzzle his nose against yours. A display of affection you’d never expect from him. “And yeah, you’re annoying, and I hate you. But she would have fucking loved you.”

You nearly sob. 

“I want you here,” he says. “I want to talk about getting you pregnant and having our babies. I want to fuck you on this bed and I want to make you cry for a very different reason.”

You laugh through the tears.

“Look, I don’t believe in guardian angels and an afterlife and all that shit,” he admits. “But sometimes, I swear she sent you to me. And yeah, I probably should have moved the picture first. That was my fault, I haven’t had anyone in here in a while. But…you’re not her, Tink. You’re you. And that’s exactly who I want you to be.”

You can’t stop the next wave of emotion as you sling your arms around his neck and pull him close. He chuckles in your embrace but doesn’t fight you. He holds you, too. For as long as you both need.

“I hate you, too,” you finally whisper.

He smiles.

“Harry?”

“Mm?”

“…can we please finish now?”

He leans back to see you. “Are you sure?”

“Very.” You kiss him. “After all, you promised to get me pregnant. And I can’t leave until you do, Daddy."

The groan against your lips is delicious and devious.

And it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

“As you wish.”

WHY DID THIS MAKE ME WANT TO CRY!!! ALSO HI I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!

Previous Part:

~ The one where Harry gets jealous (again)

~ Full 404 Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin

@justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda

@vamprry @fdl305 @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach

@lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana

@dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley

@myalovesharry @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus @kirstiea05 @lovrave

@nuggetdean @triski73 @finelinesss

[ericityyy]

Hi!

Can i request a fluff georgie x reader where he is head over heals with her?

The family dont know who she is (just sheldon bcs they are in the same university and she is very smart), but one day georgie takes her back home to hang out as friends and the family falls in love with how kind smart and charming she is and they are like: "this is the one for him"

Your writing is wholesome 😚

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘎𝘦𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘦’𝘴 “𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥” 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘍𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺

𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚: 𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘉𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘹 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘵

𝙏𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 1,632

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

Sometimes when you look at someone you like, you get this feeling of time slowing down around you but fast forwarding to the moment you imagine yourself with that person. That feeling is what Georgie experiences when with her. Y/N L/N. There are many beautiful girls around the world, but nothing can compare to her.

She’s beautiful in his eyes, no matter what setting they are in, whether it is dark or not. She glows in his eyes. When it’s bright, she’s the cause. When it’s crowded, she’s the only one he sees. When they’re alone, nothing else matters. Needless to say, Georgie will always be proud to admit that he is down bad for this girl, and yet he couldn’t find the courage to do it in front of her.

It is no secret that Georgie is not particularly the smartest one in the family; however, that does not mean that he is dumb. He’s smart in his own way. Everyone is. It’s always comforting when she tells Georgie that he’s not dumb, as other people put it. In her words, she is "book smart” and the boy is “street smart," to which the latter agrees since Y/N does not go outside much.

There’s more ways to enjoy herself in the comfort of her home, more specifically in her room, where all her books and experiments reside.

That’s why she was left confused when she found herself at Dairy Queen with Georgie. How he convinced her to hang outside, she doesn’t know. Clearly it was one of Georgie’s talents to be so convincing. Partly, it was because Y/N couldn’t say no to the boy.

“After graduating high school, I just go to Dr. Sturgis’ class for the hell of it.” Y/N explains while scooping up some ice cream, “My parents are trying to convince me to go to a university and finish my studies altogether; honestly, they just want to brag to our relatives that I graduated college at such a young age.” She furrowed her eyebrows while letting out a bitter smile. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents, but I don’t want to rush into college, y'know? I just want to take a break from studying, but I gave them a chance to let me enroll in Dr. Sturgis’ class, but only in his class so technically, still not in college.” Y/N laughed slightly before turning her attention to the person she’s with.

Georgie nodded his head at times when Y/N was telling her story, and the girl noticed, “I’m sorry, I’ve been talking about myself; how about you? What’s the latest news going on with Mr. Georgie Cooper?" The girl smirked smugly at the boy in front of her, making the said boy chuckle nervously.

“Nothing much, really.” Georgie shrugged, not knowing what to tell, “Just the usual, religious mom, coach dad, carefree meemaw, chaotic little sister, know it all little brother, y'know the normal.”

Y/N laughed at his description of his family. Nothing is normal with the Coopers, that’s for sure, but that’s what makes them so unique in a way that the girl wants to have the pleasure of meeting them. And because of that, she blurted out, “They sound fun; it’ll be a joy to meet them personally.” She not-so-subtly hinted to Georgie, who stopped scooping his ice cream.

“Why? "Georgie squinted his eyes confusingly, not really understanding why the girl wanted to meet his family.

Y/N shrugged, playing with her spoon. “Nothing really; I just want to meet them. Is that okay?" She then asked, losing confidence in her voice, which, again, the boy noticed.

“It’s okay, just don’t let them freak you out.”

"Oh, please, how bad can they be?”

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

“Y/N, what were your thoughts in Dr. Sturgis’ class today? I think it was motivational. Then again, it’s not like I don’t know what the contents of his lessons are anyway.” Sheldon arrogantly bragged as he walked alongside the older girl. Although he did not know he was being arrogant, it’s just the way he presents himself to people. And Y/N has come to terms with that.

Y/N decided to humor the younger boy as they walked outside the university. “Well, I think Dr. Sturgis made a mistake during his lecture.” Sheldon looked up at her, confused with his face all frowning. “What do you mean by mistake? I’m sure I would have recognized the mistake that Dr. Sturgis made.”

The girl was about to answer when they heard a car honking, startling Sheldon in the process, before they both noticed it was “Georgie!” Y/N exclaimed, a huge smile on her face seeing her friend. She ran up to the car as the boy got out of it to open the passenger door for her.

“Ma’am, your service awaits.” Georgie pretended to tip his imaginary hat. “Why, thank you, kind sir," while Y/N attempted to mimic a British accent, almost doing it perfectly.

“Georgie?” Sheldon asked, confused as he walked to his older brother’s car, "What are you doing here? Where’s Meemaw? Will you be the one taking me home? ”

Georgie sighed a bit annoyed. “Meemaw is a bit busy right now, so I volunteered to pick you up, also because Y/N will be joining us for dinner.”

“Huh. Well, that’s delightful to hear.” Sheldon opened the backseat door, waiting for his brother to come in before speaking again. "Delightful, as in Y/N joining us for dinner and not you picking me up.”

“Would you like to walk home? ”

“No.”

“Georgie!”

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

“We’re home!” Georgie shouted once they came inside the door of their home. The Cooper household, it was nerve-wracking for Y/N to experience this kind of situation. She didn’t grow up with that many friends due to her isolating herself most of the time. But there’s a first time for everything.

Sheldon, after pestering Y/N with what mistake Dr. Sturgis made in his lecture, went to his bedroom to drop off his briefcase, but not before telling Y/N that “This isn’t over, L/N.” Y/N raised an eyebrow at the walking boy before turning back to the nearing footsteps.

Mary came face-to-face with Y/N, not being familiar with her. “Hi, I’m sorry. Who are you?” She asked, not wanting to be rude but wanting to know this stranger inside her house.

"Oh, where are my manners?” Y/N offered her hand to the woman, giving her a beaming smile. “I’m Y/N, Mrs. Cooper. I was invited by your eldest son to dinner, but now I figure that you weren’t informed of my presence here in your humble abode.” The girl then turned to Georgie, who shrugged with a smile on his face. “I wouldn’t want to possibly intrude.”

Mary waved a hand in the girl’s direction before shaking hands with her. “Nonsense, darling, I’m happy that Georgie made friends with a gorgeous girl like yourself, and you may call me Mary.” The woman then led them to the dining table, not noticing that Y/N elbowed Georgie once her back turned to them. The boy crouches in pain, not before seeing Y/N’s overly sweet smile.

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

“So you mean to say that you go to the same classes with Sheldon at the university?" Missy questioned, interested in the new girl placed between Sheldon and Georgie. “And you survived being with him? Oh, I like you.”

Sheldon looked offended by his sister’s insult before looking content with their mother scolding the twin girl.

“It’s not much of a challenge anyway; I like Sheldon’s wit. It amuses me.” Y/N laughed at Sheldon’s arrogant expression.

“Do you have any religion, Y/N?” Mary asked hopefully. So far, she really likes the girl between her sons; the woman thinks that the girl is the one for Georgie.

Y/N nodded, swallowing her food before answering, “I was born and baptized a Christian, as my family is all Christians.” Mary, after receiving the answer, smiled widely at that, looking at George, motioning her head toward the girl excitedly.

“You mentioned that you graduated high school? At what age?” It was now George’s turn to ask; they were all taking turns getting to know the girl, and by that, it meant questioning her.

“Yes, Mr. Cooper. I actually graduated high school when I was 13. And now, I’m thinking about when I’m going to enroll fully in a university to get my degree. I haven’t really thought about going to college any time soon; basically, Dr. Sturgis’ lectures are just hobbies in a way.”

“And what exactly is your relationship with our Georgie here?” Connie finally asked what most of them were thinking, casually drinking a beer. Y/N choked on her pasta, with Georgie patting her back gently and offering her water, which she took. The boy noticed his family eyeing his actions toward Y/N; he sent them an eye roll.

“We’re just friends, Meemaw," Georgie answered, fighting back the urge to confess his feelings right there and then. But he figured to take this more privately than out in the open with his family present. That doesn’t really scream romantic to him.

Y/N paid no mind to his answer and rubbed her thumb on the back of his hand, smiling at him. "Thanks, darling.” She was grateful for him taking care of her when she was nearly dying earlier. “Don’t mention it, dear.” Georgie smiled back.

They didn’t notice the eyes on them, as they only saw each other right now. Needless to say, the family found the one for Georgie Cooper. He did too.

“I still don’t recall Dr. Sturgis’ mistake earlier.” Well, it was good while it lasted.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

i am so happy receiving your request :’> you’re my first ever request in this app and i was lowkey losing hope. but thank you so much for requesting this and i hope this lives up to your expectation.

pls don’t be a ghost reader.

[paisleypens]

Hello! I hope you’re having a wonderful day, i just have a request if that’s okay.

Could you maybe do Spencer Reid x fem!reader who is smart but doesn’t really get the chance to show the areas she’s smart in? I don’t know if that makes sense, but like in other words she’s insecure because everyone else is so smart and can figure out things so quickly, yet her brain works slower and it takes her a while to figure things out? So she just feels dumb around them? And one day she overhears (I know none of them would do this but it's for the purpose of the story) someone talking bad abour her and uses the word dumb?

And then sweet little Spence finds her crying? You can have fun with the ending, I want you to have some freedom with it!

Thank you for taking the time to read this, I hope you have a wonderful day. And you don’t have to write this just a suggestion. (AND I LOVE YOUR SPENCER STORIES THEY’RE SO AMAZINGLY WRITTEN LOVE) 💗💗💗

I LOVE YOU STOP IT. this request is gorgeous and so real. i get really bad imposter syndrome so i hope yall find this as comforting as i did 🫶 i also haven’t been giving reid any love lately send some reid stuff my way!!

different strengths | spencer reid x f!reader

~~~

You sat at your desk, methodically typing out a report, trying to ignore the soft chatter of your colleagues in the bullpen. The rest of the BAU team always seemed to crack cases so effortlessly, piecing together intricate puzzles with the speed and precision of master craftsmen. You admired them, but the admiration often turned into a gnawing insecurity. Despite your intelligence, you struggled to keep up, your brain needing more time to process and connect the dots.

Your fingers paused over the keyboard as a murmur from the break room caught your attention. You couldn't help but eavesdrop when you heard your name.

"...she's nice, but she just doesn't get things like we do. It's like, I don't know, her brain works slower or something. Maybe she’s just dumb."

Your heart sank. The word "dumb" hit you like a punch to the gut. Fighting back tears, you slipped away from your desk and found refuge in one of the empty offices. The door clicked shut behind you, and the dam broke. You sank into a chair, sobbing quietly into your hands.

Spencer Reid, with his keen observational skills, had noticed you slipping away. He had always been drawn to you, your kindness, and your unique perspective, even if you didn't see it yourself. Worried, he followed you and after a moment gently knocked on the door.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

You quickly wiped your tears and tried to compose yourself, but your voice wavered as you responded. "Yeah, I'm fine, Spencer. Just needed a moment."

He wasn't convinced. He opened the door and stepped inside, his face etched with concern. "I heard what they said. I'm so sorry, Y/N."

Fresh tears welled up in your eyes. "It's true, Spencer. I just... I can't keep up with everyone. I feel so stupid."

Spencer's heart ached at your words. He moved closer, his eyes soft with empathy. "Y/N, you are not stupid. Your intelligence is just as valuable as anyone else's here. You see things differently, and that's a strength, not a weakness."

You looked up at him, sniffling. "But I never get to show what I'm good at. Everyone's always ten steps ahead."

Spencer knelt down beside your chair, his gaze earnest. "That's not true. You contribute in ways you might not even realize. The way you connect with victims' families, your attention to detail, your intuition... those are things none of us can do as well as you can."

His words were a balm to your wounded heart, and you managed a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, Spencer."

He smiled back, a warmth spreading through him at your expression. "How about we get out of here? It's the end of the day, and I know a great place for ice cream. My treat."

You chuckled softly, feeling lighter already. "I'd like that."

As you both walked out of the office together, the tension began to fade. You exchanged stories, laughed about cases, and for the first time in a while, you felt seen and valued.

Sitting in the ice cream parlor, the two of you shared a banana split, your shoulders brushing occasionally, sending sparks of electricity through both of you. Despite your insecurities, Spencer's presence made you feel safe and appreciated.

As you finished the last bite, Spencer looked at you, a hint of nervousness in his eyes. "You know, Y/N, I've always admired you. You're smart, kind, and incredibly strong. Anyone who can't see that doesn't know what they're talking about."

Your heart fluttered at his words, a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Thank you, Spencer. That means a lot to me."

He reached out, gently squeezing your hand. "Anytime. And remember, you're not alone. We all have different strengths, and together, we make a great team."

You squeezed his hand back, feeling a surge of affection for the man sitting across from you who would never grab anyone else’s hand normally. "I think so too."

As you left the parlor, the evening sun casting a warm glow over everything, you couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, things would be alright. And perhaps, you weren't the only one with feelings that had been hidden for far too long.

[earthtooz]

x : BETWEEN LOVE AND LIES :*+ﾟ

in which: you thought nagi was dating you for media reputation... so why does this relationship feel suspiciously real?

warnings: 11.9k words, pro-soccer player!nagi x physiotherapist!gn!reader, reader has hair, lots of food, not at all a realistic story but that's okay pls don't come for me, SLOOWWWWBURN, fake-dating au, reader is oblivious :<

a/n: goodness. if this flops i will cry bc i spent way too long this for it to be healthy for me. enjoy !

↳ 5K EVENT MASTERLIST ༉‧₊

nagi approaches you the day after his name goes viral.

you weren’t doing anything spectacular, merely putting away all the kits and equipment you’d used for the day when the white-haired soccer player approaches you, his hands in his pockets, strolling over to you as he would on any occasion. 

your heart races- as it does whenever he’s around, regardless of said occasion, but what tumbles out of his mouth next was worthy of ceasing your heart rate all together.

“wanna date?”

you’re speechless. malfunctioning as you register what he’s saying. the sheer casualness of it all is alarming and you have to snap yourself back into your physical environment before your mind loses to a universe of questions and doubts.

out of all people who have asked you to date, nagi was definitely the most unique. was he okay in the head? did he come for a check up? did he get one of rin’s kicks to the head? or was he just straight up delusional?

“uhh, why?” you ask, cursing yourself a little for how disgusted you sounded.

fortunately for you, your ungracious tone didn’t phase him, not one bit. “isn’t that what two people do when they like each other?”

yeah, romantically. you don’t even think nagi likes you beyond simply platonic, whereas you have to try and shove your feelings for him down your throat every morning before walking in to the training grounds for blue lock’s official team.

you find yourself agreeing regardless, still a little overwhelmed by everything that was going on. 

the soccer player then has the audacity to give you two thumbs up in approval, a dumb smile plastering on that expression of his. this confuses you even more.

“okay cool, so what should we do now that we’re a couple?” he asks.

you glance away, unable to look him in the eye for too long without getting flustered. the various weights and foam rollers still scattered on the floor catches your attention, reminding you of your previous task before nagi came to stir up a storm. “well, i have to put these away amongst various things. you can sit on the couch if you want to pass time?”

“do you need any help?” he questions, already bobbing down to be eye-level with you, ignoring the second half of your statement.

“no it’s fine, thank you though.”

“are you sure?”

“yeah! i don’t want to bother you.”

“well if you do this all by yourself, it’ll take longer, and you take longer, it means i have to wait longer to spend time with you.”

when you turn around to say something, the words die on your throat when you realise just how close he’d come to you during the time you had your back towards him. a flash of hurt crosses his typically emotionless eyes when you instinctively recoil from him, his innocent stare dimishing just a little. 

“you know how much i hate waiting. it’s such a pain, so let me help out and you’ll get done faster, right?” his hands are already reaching for some of the foam rollers before you can stop him. with an affectionate sigh, you take it from him, placing it back in its original spot.

“fine,” you say with a smile. “if you insist then would you mind putting the ice packs in the fridge? isagi’s ankle was messing up earlier and chigiri came in for his knee again.”

the white-haired hums before obeying, his footsteps that shuffled along the floor telling you know that he is carrying out his duties that you’ve assigned for him. the way his tracksuit makes a noise every time he walks is distracting, but you can’t help but think how much nagi reminds you of a penguin. the adorableness of it all might just kill you.

if only the internet and ‘#nagi seishiro’ tags knew just how much of a teddy bear that 6’3, legendary prodigy, nagi seishiro was, and how you had to massage him almost everyday after training sessions otherwise he’d come to practise the next day with the resolve of a five year old.

being a junior physiotherapist for the blue lock team, you only took care of a few blue lock athletes as your clients since the team was divided between you and a senior physio. nagi wasn’t one of your assigned athletes, however when you first came to the job, he would come during almost closing times (when you had no one booked) and ask for a massage, even if he had his own physiotherapist to request that of. however, nagi seemed to always have some sore muscle because his demands for a massage became a daily recurrence.

you just hope whatever is wrong with him gets sorted out soon. 

sure athletes are meant to work hard and use their bodies in the field but physio massages were to assist with injuries by minimising the risk of them, fixing the alignment, or help extend any limited range of movement. 

whatever. now’s not the time to think too hard about it because you’re about to go on a date with nagi seishiro. 

after cleaning up your space so you could prepare to take care of more athletes tomorrow, nagi is sauntering over to you once more. this time, he drapes himself all over you, causing you to stumble a little from how heavy he is. you pray to whoever’s listening that he can’t feel or hear the way your heart races in your chest, threatening to climb up your throat and jump into his hands. 

“tired, nagi?” you question, words muffled against his shoulder as you bring your hands to soothingly pat his back. 

“yeah,” whines the white-haired. the smile that creeps onto your face is one full of adoration for the man slung over you. “let me take you out.”

“where to?”

“a night market? it’ll be fun.” 

“sure.” 

at your confirmation, he separates from you with an excited glimmer in his eyes, 

after grabbing your bags and setting out, you’re violently flooded by dozens of paparazzi and interviewers who are click their cameras in hopes of catching blue lock’s soccer player who has taken the world by storm. it’s a little overwhelming, but when nagi covers you from the reporters with his arm which had his tracksuit jacket draped over it, you’re thankful for his thoughtfulness, especially when you’re relying on his grip around your waist to pull you in the right direction.

the crowd is shouting a flurry of things, nothing that you can make out amongst the mess of your mind, your heart, and your ears.

it’s not until you decipher someone shouting something about dating rumours with a japanese pop singer, that you piece together his intentions; a loud wakeup call to the reality of your ‘situation’ with nagi. 

the possibility that nagi was using this ‘relationship’ for media coverage and acknowledgement was very likely, especially with his recent growth in popularity and social media following- it would be understandable if he wanted to prolong his moment in the spotlight by entering beneficial relationships. 

except typically, celebrities would do it with other celebrities.

so what’s the appeal behind using you? 

a funny feeling brews in your gut, one that clawed at your chest with a series of disappointment, anxiety, and dismay. it was unbelievable that someone as hot, both literally and figuratively, as nagi would be interested in you; a junior physiotherapist fresh out of university, but you had hoped. his abruptness today and the whole ‘we should date’ ordeal was to dispel the media from his back, not bred from any genuine feelings.

if this was the only chance you got to stand beside nagi and have him hold you like this, so protectively against him, then you were going to take it until fate deemed it over and pulled you away from him itself.

you were young and simply put, nagi could provide the companionship you were looking for.

fortunately, the press left him alone at the parking lot where security guards were standing, two in the booth and one purchased near the gate. you give them a shy greeting and they return it with a bow.

“sorry about that,” nagi mutters, not looking at you even when you turn your head to stare up at him. “i wasn’t expecting paparazzi to be right outside, they’re such a pain.”

“it’s okay, if anything i owe you a thank you for covering me from them,” you huff, stuffing your hands into your pockets, mind still a little frazzled over the memory of how protective nagi was over you. “stuff like this happens when you’re famous, mr soccer hotshot.”

he rubs his neck, looking to the side as his next words tumble out of his mouth: “does that impress you?”

“why wouldn’t it?” 

you try not to think too hard about the blush that manifests on his face, pinning it on the colder weather and frostbite rather than your words. 

“so… where’s this night market? i didn’t know tokyo had many night markets.”

“just in shibuya.”

“won’t it be busy?”

“yeah,” he shrugs before adding as an afterthought: “does that bother you?”

“no not at all, i just thought you hated big crowds and busy places.”

“‘s won’t be so bad with you there.”

for someone who prefers to keep quiet majority of the time, nagi sure does have a silver tongue. this is probably the third time in the past half an hour that he’s made your stomach flip, and you can’t help but question his intentions. if he was trying to make you actually fall for him to make your relationship look more legitimate then he’d be disappointed to know that you already had, way before he approached you today. 

he agrees to drive the way since one: it was easier and two: you could avoid the paparazzi that way. 

upon arrival, you’re glad to see that there aren’t too many people in the crowd. since it was a weekday, students would be participating in extra curriculars and businessmen would be only just finishing work. the majority of the people here were older with a few couples here and there.

“oh, they have lemon tea,” nagi mutters, grabbing your hand before unceremoniously dragging you to the stand. his excitement was endearing, especially when all 6’3 of him approaches the lemon tea stand, needing to bend down in order to be seen by the elderly stand owner. a flash of surprise crosses the maker’s face as he makes eye contact with the white-haired.

“two lemon teas please,” requests the soccer player, using his hands to gesture ‘two’ as he fishes out the appropriate amount of money.

“hey, you’re that soccer player, nagi! you scored an awesome goal the other day. mind if i get a picture?” the owner’s gruff voice requests, a cheery smile making its way onto his face.

“oh. sure.”

you take the picture for them, counting down ‘3, 2, 1’ as nagi gives the camera a peace sign and the owner has a wide, bright smile on his face; so bright that you couldn’t help grinning as well. “i’m putting this on my store front. now you want two lemon teas?”

“coming right up!” 

“did you just buy me a lemon tea without asking?” you question, a smile appearing on your features as you glance up at your companion.

he meets your eyes, “yeah, ‘s there something wrong with that?” 

“no, not at all. i wouldn’t mind some lemon tea right now. i’ll pay you back.”

“don’t worry about that,” nagi cuts you off before you can even reach for your wallet. “everything’s on me.”

“but-”

“-it’s on me.”

the stand owner is handing over two iced cups of lemon before you can continue bickering and nagi hands one over to you with a wordless expression and you’re compelled to take it, though reluctantly.

“are you two a couple?” the owner asks.

nagi nods, “yeah, we are.”

“ah! no wonder. you two look amazing together, you bagged a real gem,” he says to nagi, pointing at you. you laugh it off, flattered.

“i know i did. thanks for the tea, sir.”

“thank you!” you call out to the owner before being dragged away by nagi again, careful not to spill your drink from how much vigour was in his steps. for his one stride, you had to take two. 

after going from store to store and blindly following nagi who led the way with his stomach, you’re eventually brought to a less busy, picnic-like area where there were various benches for you to sit on. it was away from the busyness of the main street, but still had lanterns hung around the premise, combating the darkness of the early sunset during colder months.

you take a seat beside him whilst he sets down the variety of food he bought from the merchants, not trying to think too much about the way nagi presses himself closely against you. 

“oh, one of my games had a character drop an hour ago,” he absentmindedly comments, opening his phone for the first time since being with you. you catch a glimpse of his dim phone screen, seeing the notification banner from the game he was referring to.

“that’s cool,” you mutter, unsure of what else to say as you take a bite into the red bean taiyaki.

“yeah, he’s a cracked character. been wanting him forever.”

“are you gonna pull? i wanna see him.”

“really?” 

when you give him the nod of affirmation, nagi opens the game whilst you continue eating, gentle anticipation hanging in the air as well as a comfortable silence. it doesn’t take long before he’s purchasing special event tokens, going to the special character screen and pressing the ‘draw x10’ option. you peer over his shoulder, trying to resist the urge to rest your chin on it.

you’re snapped out of your reverie when nagi emits a small gasp. “no way.”  

“what?” you ask, watching the way his screen lights up in gold which signalled a successful draw. he looks up at you, eyes wide and mouth partially parted. “did you get him?”

“yeah, on the first go,” he says in wonder, a dazed look in his eyes. “that’s never happened before.”

“no way! you’re so lucky!”

nagi’s face erupts into a small smile, and you’re caught off guard all of a sudden when his hands snake around your waist, pulling you up to sit on his lap. the new proximity and abruptness of it all causes your mind to stop for a second, shutting off as nagi peers up at you with stars in his eyes. you want to hide, but his grip around you is too tight, pulling you in to him.

this feels criminal. 

“nah, i just think you’re my lucky charm.”

a quiet squeak of ‘is that so?’ is all you can reply with before looking away, trying to distract your rampant thoughts, hoping that the cool breeze will calm the heat creeping up to your face. “so,” you begin, trying to recover yourself from embarrassment. “can i see your characters? all of them?”

“all of them?” nagi repeats and you miss the small look of bliss on his expression.

“yeah.”

“i showed them to you the other week.”

“okay, well show me this new character then.”

“as you wish.” 

he talks you through the characters and their tutorials, showing you their special combos and ultimate moves, all whilst you have to feed him the variety of foods he bought whilst dragging you around like a dog and its owner. as he munches on the takoyaki, kebabs, and sweet potato, you realise just how bottomless nagi’s stomach was and the way he hums in satisfaction after each bite was very adorable.

the night fades into a nice memory of laughter, emptied food boxes, and easy conversation. somehow nagi has manoeuvred himself so that his head was now in your lap, snowy hair spread so invitingly as you resist the urge to run your hands through it, wanting to respect any boundaries of his. 

every so often you have to remind yourself that this wasn’t real. 

reality hits you once more the following morning when you check social media just to see ‘#nagi seishiro’ trending all over again, all talking about the paparazzi photos that were taken yesterday. taking a glimpse for yourself, you hate the way your gut sinks, especially as articles with the title ‘nagi seishiro with a new lover?’ shine in your face.

it only solidifies your speculations about this (fake?) relationship, and despite coming to accept it, growing resentment poisons your system, rendering you incapable and bitter as you let your breakfast grow cold. 

at least nagi correctly covered you with his jacket, your face is completely obstructed, only your body is revealed. you thank your lucky stars that you decided to not wear your ‘blue lock’ staff clothes that morning and just opted for your own athletic wear, that way your identity could be hidden at least just a little.

a message from reo captures your attention and you click on it immediately. 

reo: is that you with nagi? 

you: yeah! 

reo: about fucking time. got sick of you two never doing anything. 

you: haha 😐thanks reo 😐

reo: did he take you to the night market last night?

you: yeah! it was fun :)

reo: that’s good, nagi’s been waiting forever.

reo: don’t break his heart 

you scoff at the irony of reo’s last text, typing something noncommittal before throwing your phone else where. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the whole team practically knows about you and nagi when you return to work the following monday and the second you enter the building, you’re swarmed by the friendly faces of bachira, isagi, and chigiri, who are seemingly holding a tired nagi hostage. quite an amusing sight. three people, who are roughly a head shorter than the white-haired, restraining a lethargic 6’3 athlete with their bodies. 

“are you really dating nagi?” isagi begins before you could even fit in a ‘hello’.

“uh… yeah?” you sound unsure; because you are. a fake relationship is still a relationship, it’s just that one party is more infatuated with the other.

“damn. i didn’t think it was real,” mutters chigiri. “are you sure? he’s not like… paying you to do this, right? you like like him?”

“yes?” you exclaim, a little overwhelmed. “i’m not getting any monetary returns even though i wish i did.” nagi narrows his eyes at you, you poke out your tongue. “please, no more questions, it’s way too early for this.”

“you don’t know how long we’ve been waiting for nagi to ask you out, y/n. even we placed money on him,” reveals isagi but before you could say anything in response, bachira cuts in, practically skipping up to the white-haired.

“finally grew some balls and asked, good job bro!” bachira sings, patting nagi on the back with a violet slap before disappearing.

“see you at practice, nagi!” 

the three athletes disappear and you finally exhale after holding in a breath for what felt like ages. what an animated way to start the day.

you hold your breath again when nagi approaches to stop in front of you, a singular coffee cup in his hand; one that he holds out to you.

“good morning, nagi,” you greet.

“hey, i got you coffee.” instinctively, you take the cup from him, immediately warmed up by the heat emanating from it. “i hope it’s still warm. i’ve been waiting for you for a while.”

“you were waiting for me?” 

“yeah. wanted to see you before going to training. makes my day less of a bother.”

you smile into your cup, trying to hide the effect that nagi has on you. you were so stupid for him it was insane.

“i’m sorry for making you wait, the trains were a little delayed this morning,” you confess, “but thank you. you’re very thoughtful, nagi.”

his face contorts into an ugly expression, a display of his feelings that are quickly quelled by the feeling of your cold hand grabbing his warm ones. “you take public transport to work?”

“i don’t want to pay for parking and everything. it’s not all bad, i get lovely views and a wake up call every morning.” 

the white-haired athlete makes a face of contemplation briefly. “let me pick you up from now on.”

“no, it’s fine. i don’t want to be more of a hassle. i know how much you hate waking up to even just come to work so-”

“-i want to.”

your heart flutters at his insistence and all you can mutter out is a feeble ‘ok’ before slipping your hand out of his. you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to get used to the way nagi seishiro so effortlessly warms your insides; to the point that it becomes an unrecognisable pool of putty. 

after a moment, you regain your senses. “you should be going off to practise. don’t make ego mad before the day even starts.”

he groans, “won’t you come and watch? i’ll feel a little better if you’re there.”

“i have my own work to get to but i don’t have many checkups today so if i can, i will.”

“i suppose that’s good enough,” mutters nagi before pulling you in for a loose hug, arms wounding around your waist, breathing you in before stepping back, as if rejuvenated by your touch and presence alone. 

“work hard, nagi.”

you go your separate ways, him to the field and you to your office where various coworkers resided.

after a morning of answering emails, going to meetings and consulting the results from various body screenings, you finally have a chunk of time around 11:45 am to go and watch practice. as soon as you entered the training grounds, you’re a little stunned and impressed to see that they were all doing shooting drills, landing them perfectly with no effort, the harsh sound of shoe slapping against leather ringing throughout the area.

nagi notices you almost immediately, his eyes lighting up a little when you shoot him a small wave before wandering into the bleachers, taking a seat in a second row. 

you continue watching, straightening up in your seat whenever it’s nagi’s turn, waiting to watch the genius at work. the results are no less than impressive every time but you have to pretend like you weren’t at all marvelling at him whenever he turns around and looks at you expectantly.

15 minutes later, ego calls for an hour lunch break, allowing the players to break off to do whatever their heart desires. the first thing nagi does is walk over to where you sit in the stands, leaning over the first row of chairs to reach you.

“why hello there, soccer sensation,” you greet and he gives you a lazy smile.

“hi.”

“you going to go for lunch?”

“yeah. have you had something to eat yet or do you wanna grab a bite together?”

“i brought cup noodles but i don’t mind. don’t you want to go with your friends?” 

“you’re better.”

“please shut up, that’s so cringe,” you murmur with an undeniable grin, one that causes his gaze to soften as well. “let’s get lunch together then.”

“let me get dressed,” the athlete says, about to run off when you abruptly stop him, causing him to turn around suddenly, his hair whipping around with his actions. “what’s up?”

beckoning him over, he returns to where he stood before and you take out a hair tie, one that you store in your pockets all the time just in case. “does your hair not bother you when you practise?” you silently ask for permission, hand merely hovering near his head until you realise that he was okay with the contact. “it’s getting all in your face, even i was annoyed when watching you.” 

gently, you run your hands through his hair and despite the sweat on his forehead, it’s still soft and fluffy. goodness you could play with it forever.

then, you gather nagi’s front bangs, bringing them together to resemble a unicorn horn, tying it with your hairband. when you part from your work, you’re pleasantly surprised that it holds but you suppress a giggle because of how ridiculous he looks, paired with that dazed look in his eyes, you never thought you’d see nagi like this.

when you reach to tug your hairband out of his hair, he waves you off, taking the updo out himself.

“can i keep the hairband?” he pleads and you quirk an eyebrow.

“it’s just a hairband,” you say.

“so you won’t miss it right?”

“no, i won’t-”

“-okay, epic,” he mumbles before putting the hair tie around his wrist and a part of you swells with pride at the sight; a feeling that you try to shove down with little success. “can i get changed now?”

“yes, go.”

whilst you watch the white-haired disappear from your vision, you can’t help but wonder how you got yourself into this situation with such a weirdo. still, you adore said weirdo and this was no one’s fault but your own.

nagi wears the hair tie for the remainder of the day.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

roughly two months or so pass by and the days become a blur, especially since training is becoming more rigorous for the team due to the preparations for their spring soccer season. your schedule is piled day by day with athletes coming for their regular checkups and consultations, leaving you drained as soon as the work day is over.

nagi, your loving ‘partner’ notices this because he always likes to stick around after hours and bother you for a massage. he always insists that you do it because it’s like an immediate ‘full heal’ but you just think that he’s too lazy to book a professional masseuse and that you’re the next best thing.

whatever. at least he’s cute.

“i hardly see you nowadays,” he mutters, voice muffled by the leather bed of your workspace. 

you gather a little more lotion on your hands, spreading it along his calves before pressing your thumbs into his muscles, trying to identify where any tight spots might be. “i’m sorry, i don’t have much time nowadays. appointments with you guys go all the way til six, and i don’t get home until 6:30. then i’m practically out like a light.”

he hums in torment and in consideration, tensing his shoulders a little as a natural response to the pain in his legs. “well, tomorrow’s a saturday. can i take you out?”

“i don’t know, some athletes may sporadically come and bother me to get a massage so i’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

“be serious.”

“i am free tomorrow.”

“sick. keep it that way.”

“even if athletes bother me for a much-needed massage in order to perform at their best?”

he huffs something in response before flopping his face back down on the leather bed, the (seemingly invincible) knots in his calves taking too much of your attention for you to think too hard about tomorrow’s date with nagi. 

he’s still wearing your hair tie around his wrist. 

true to his word, nagi picks you up the next day at 3pm for your date since he insisted that was the earliest he would be ready by (meaning, it’s the earliest he can wake up). when you meet him, you’re a little stunned by the amount of disguises he’s wearing. sunglasses, beanie, and a face mask, you’re not sure whether he’s going to attract more attention or blend in.

also, when you’re 6’3 it’s hard to avoid eyes.

“hey, i’m supposed to meet someone called nagi, he’s got white hair, grey eyes, 190 cm, have you seen him?” you ask as soon as you approach the soccer player. he sighs through his mask when you erupt into a fit of laughter. “i’m just kidding.”

nagi brings down his mask to sit below his chin. “your boyfriend is right here,” he corrects, voice demanding and authoritative, sending shivers down your spine. 

“so he is,” you mumble, stepping closer to engulf him in a hug. he wraps his arms around you in return and you contentedly sigh when he pulls you into the comfortable, expensive material of his hoodie. “what’s with the disguise?”

“i don’t want anyone to ruin our day out so i’m wearing this.”

“ever so thoughtful aren’t you?” 

when you take a step back, nagi’s careful to not let you stray too far which is indicated through the protective arm he keeps around your shoulders. 

“should we get going?”

“yeah.”

the white-haired laces your hands with his, his grip gentle yet committed to keeping you near him as you stroll down the warming streets of tokyo.

“it’s finally spring,” nagi comments offhandedly, causing you shift your gaze towards him. you’re surprised that he was initiating conversation, majority of the time it was you doing the rambling and him partaking in the listening. “the cold weather was getting bothersome. hated going to practise all freezing, makes warmup so hard.”

“i like the cold weather,” you say. “it’s easier to dress for winter than it is for summer.”

“that is true.”

“do you like spring?”

“yeah, ‘s my favourite season.”

you didn’t think someone like nagi would bother too much with having a favourite season. “why’s that?”

“it’s a good season for napping and staying inside. i like that i don’t have to do much nor think about much.” 

such a nagi response. you admire how stubborn he sticks to his ideals and general philosophy, it’s a comforting quality and aspect to have. 

“plus it’s your birthday season,” you add. 

he looks at you with a gentle smile before repeating: “it’s my birthday season.”  

nagi takes you to a park where the cherry blossoms are in full bloom, its petals decorating the scenery and ground, creating a dainty, lovely carpet of pink and beauty. however, the main attraction of the date isn’t the scenery of the park but rather, the lake where several pedal boats float on the water; some occupied, some vacant.

the soccer player shows the attendant his purchased tickets, getting them scanned before you’re led to get on one of the boats. 

“so… are you liking the date?” nagi asks when you’re out far enough from the dock so that no one can hear you. here, he takes off his mask, tucking it into his pocket.

“i am, i’ve been wanting to ride one of these boats for a long time but i’ve just never found the time,” you confess. “i’m glad that it’s with you. thanks, nagi.” 

he looks away, an obvious pink tint appearing on his cheeks as he rubs his neck in embarrassment. “it’s okay, i s’pose.”

“you’re so cute,” you say whilst raising one hand to drag through his hair.

“stop,” he whines but not brushing you off or pulling away, instead, he leans into your touch.

a few minutes of silence pass by before nagi speaks up again, retreating back into his personal space as he fishes for something in his hoodie pocket. he pulls out a long velvet box, handing it over for you to take which you do with a little hesitation.

“i wanted to give you something to mark two months,” he tells you and you feel your heart drop.

“wait what? two months? i didn’t know we were celebrating that!” (because you spend too much time fretting over the day he’d tell you that he wants to break up, not needing this fake relationship anymore.) “i didn’t get you anything, i feel terrible now-”

“-it’s not a big deal, i just wanted to give you something.”

“nagi i can’t accept this, this is too good-”

“-i insist.”

“but i don’t have anything for you-”

in the blink of an eye his hands are clasped tightly around yours, his face incredibly close to yours that you’re stupefied into silence. “i. insist.”

you stare at him for another three seconds before relenting, opening the velvet box with the utmost care in fear that you might drop it in the water; a horrifying thought. 

a gasp of delight slips out of your mouth when you see an emerald necklace beaming brightly in your face. it’s in the shape of a pendant, encrusted around a halo plate with gold surrounding it, and from the looks of it, it couldn’t have been cheap.

looking back up at him to express the disbelief you feel, you’re silenced by the gentle look in his eyes, one that shines with adoration and devotion.

“it’s beautiful,” you whisper, unable to talk much louder in fear that it’ll cause the emerald to shatter in your hand. “you shouldn’t have.”

“i wanted to because i really like you. stop worrying.”

you exhale deeply, a little flustered and caught off guard by how candid he was. this feels suspiciously real.

“where did you learn to be so romantic?” you quiz, using humour to narrow how awkward you felt. 

“shoujos,” he answers shamelessly.

“ah.” makes sense as to why he makes you feel like you’re in one. “can you help me put the necklace on?”

the white-haired shines with glee, features brightening for a second. “y-yeah, of course.”

“thank you.” 

when he grasps the jewellery in his hold you turn around to expose the back of your neck to him, practically holding your breath when you feel his warm fingers brush against your skin, his touch barely there yet still prominent enough to blaze trials of fire where he caresses. 

“how do i look?” you ask, turning back around.

“beautiful,” he says, no louder than a whisper.

eventually the boat ride comes to an end and you return back to the dock. a lingering feeling of bliss and giddiness resonates in your chest, evident in the undeniable grin plastered on your face whilst you walk through the park; this time with a pretty gemstone adorning your neck. 

“nagi, look!” you exclaim, gesturing over to a company-branded photo booth that had set itself up in the middle of the park. there were various people lining up for one and judging by the pleased squeals from groups of students, it would be a nice memory to keep for today. “should we take one?”

“sure,” he shrugs, letting you drag him to hop in the queue which was going much faster than you anticipated. 

when it’s your turn, there’s hardly any time to discuss poses when the cameraman clicks the countdown button so unexpectedly. you reflexively hug nagi whilst smiling and he just gives a simple peace sign. he then stands behind you, wrapping his arms around you to place his head atop yours. finally, he bends down to kiss your cheek, rendering you completely mentally inable as you default a pose, not entirely too sure which one whilst you wait for the countdown and the camera flash. 

“you guys are so cute!” the photographer exclaims, handing your photobooth strips already. even then you hadn’t regained your senses, relying on nagi to guide you with his hand on the small of your back. 

glancing down at the photo strip, you’re stunned into speechlessness at the last photo. you can still remember the feeling of his lips on your cheek, specks of his warmth lingering on your skin whilst you continue trying to register what just happened.

you might explode or something. 

“cute,” nagi mumbles whilst putting the photo strip into his wallet, pulling you in by the waist to stand closer to him, whispering in your ear. “i still have one place i want to take you.” 

“do you?” you squeak, earning you a nod as he leads you through the park, coming to a stop when you enter a somewhat secluded section that had a sign labelled ‘private picnic rooms’ with various price ranges according to the number of people.

once again, he claims to have a reservation and you’re led by an attendant towards a specific area that had a table scattered with plates of snacks and various decorations. the vibe of the room was incredible with tatami mats, a floor to ceiling glass window that outlook the cherry blossoms, and if you tried hard enough, you could hear a stream running. 

“you… really outdid yourself,” you murmur, wandering over to one side of the table, expecting him to sit on the other. instead, he takes the spot right beside you.

you’re not too sure if this layout is how the establishment intended it to be but it is now.

“so you like it?” 

“i do. i love everything you’ve done today, you’re too good for me.”

“not true,” he grumbles, too quiet for you to address it further but loud enough for you to hear.

your relationship doesn’t make any sense to you. why is nagi trying so hard to impress you when this relationship was just for beneficial gain? what does he get from booking a pedal boat ride, buying you a (clearly expensive) emerald necklace, then taking you to have a private picnic? 

picking up a piece of halved mochi with the provided fork, you give the first bite to nagi who is more than happy to oblige, chewing on it with a satisfied expression. 

he’s so cute, you could pinch him.

your eyes then flit over to the decorations on the table, reaching over to the branch of cherry blossoms in a vase before you could think, ripping off one of the sticks with the bloomed flower and putting it in nagi’s hair and behind his ears. his adorableness just tripled.

“aww you look really cute with pink!”

“ya think so?” 

“yeah! you’re so pretty nagi,” you reach over to fiddle with the flower, not registering how close you’d gotten to him until you feel his breath fan across your face.

then you comprehend it, frozen in place for a second as you study nagi’s beauty from an angle you hadn’t before. how his snowy hair fanned perfectly over his forehead, the way the light bounced in the reflection of his eyes, and the imperfections that littered across his skin all contributed towards making the pretty being that was nagi seishiro. 

he leans in. you freak out, instinctively turning your head.

your breath gets caught in your throat when you feel nagi’s lips brush against the corners of your mouth, lingering there for a moment before parting and the look of hurt that flashes across his face hurts your soul. 

did you do the right thing? you thought you did- you know nagi isn’t into you the way you are into him. this relationship was made for media attraction, for him to gain more seconds of fame, so why does he keep acting like you two are real? why does he keep protecting your identity from the internet, why did he wear a disguise when meeting you when he would have wanted to boast that he was taken, why does he want to kiss you?

why does he look so hurt when he didn’t?

this was all so confusing.

tension lingers in the air for the rest of the date. you try to compensate for it by being a little more affectionate, giving in to your desires of openly loving him for the day. nagi’s satisfied.

you don’t notice how the cherry blossom fell from his ear.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

you won’t find answers to your questions for a long time. in fact, the amount of questions you had quadrupled one night when you had spent the day at nagi’s apartment after work one day to watch a tv show that was on his ‘to-watch’ list.

“stay the night?” asks nagi, resting his head on your shoulder to give you his best puppy-dog eyes. you will yourself to not look at him by keeping your gaze firm on the television screen. 

“oh this episode sounds good. maybe we can watch this then i’ll get going,” you mutter whilst fiddling with the remote, dutifully ignoring his pleads and the way he tugs at you; something that does not resonate well with him. 

“oi. don’t ignore me.”

with a rough exhale, you finally turn towards him. “i can’t.”

“why not? we don’t have work tomorrow.” 

“i know but i just feel bad to bother you and take up your space.”

“you’re not botherin’ me. there’s so much space here, it feels empty without you.”

“nagi-”

“-won’t you call me seishiro? or something more romantic?”

the relationship shifts with his very words and you feel the genuine desperation that bleeds from nagi through his tone. when you look him in the eye, part of you shines with hope that maybe your relationship was real and not bred for media benefit.

in this moment of weakness, you let the top of your walls crumble.

“okay, seishiro.”

he beams. a smile so pure that you shatter like glass in his hands. “yay.”

you then find yourself underneath him as he lays his entire body weight over you, pressing you into the comfortable cushions of his couch as his hands delicately run up and down your waist. paralysed with confusion at the amount of love he pours into his touch, you keep forgetting that the higher you climb, the harder the inevitable fall will be. 

“stay the night, please?”

how could you say no when he was asking so nicely? “okay, seishiro.”

“yay.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“hey seishiro, are you ready?” you ask, fiddling with your rings as you round the corner of your living room where your oversized boyfriend is lounging across the couch whilst you got ready (boyfriend still feels weird to say even if he has zero problems with addressing himself by that title).

“yeah. let’s go-” he grumbles, cutting himself off when he glances over at you, eyes widening. “-whoa.”

heat rushes to your cheeks whilst nagi continues to shamelessly marvel at you, slowly standing up to cross the distance between you, his hands naturally hovering to hold your hips when he’s close enough. his gaze lingers even longer on the emerald necklace that sits between your collarbones. “like what you see?”

he stays silent for a second, leaving you to anticipate his answer. “we don’t have to go to isagi’s,” he mumbles. “how do we feel about staying in?” 

“don’t. your best friend is hosting this party, can’t you at least show up for him?” 

the white-haired sulks. “but you look so good. why should i celebrate that shortie instead of you?”

you push his face away, jokingly fed up with your boyfriend’s lazy attitude. “isagi is also my friend and i want to celebrate with him, just for an hour or two and then we can leave. deal?” 

“fine.”

twenty minutes later, you arrive at isagi’s place where a good amount of his closest friends had gathered, showing up far earlier than you and nagi did. 

truthfully, you were looking forward to isagi’s party since he was not throwing a massive rave where everyone was invited- those always ended up to be more unfortunate than fun in your opinion, and that wouldn’t exactly cater to his shy and sensible character. tonight was a gathering for his friends to hangout and celebrate. some you recognise from the team, some of them must be from high school or elsewhere.

bachira’s cheery face is the first one you see upon arrival, his smile wide as he practically bounces off the walls in excitement and you already begin to wonder just how many desserts and sweets he’s had upon arrival. 

“hey it’s the couple of the century!” he exclaims with a wink. nagi keens at bachira’s compliment, all proud and boastful as his hand creeps up to hold your hip protectively. “lookin’ good as always!” 

“yo, where’s isagi?” the white haired questions.

“around, i’ll take you to him c’mon!” 

the two soccer players are off before you can even count to three, nagi and bachira disappearing into the crowd as the hyperactive boy drags your 190 cm of a boyfriend through the crowd. well, at least he took the gift you both bought with him, but now you feel a little alone and very awkward.

walking around the hallways of isagi’s, you feel a little out of place since most of them seemed to be high school friends. it’s not until you reached the kitchen that you sigh in relief, met with the familiar, friendly faces of chigiri and reo who see you first.

“hey!” the red-haired calls out, waving at you as you walk over to them. “it’s good to see you, y/n, how are you?”

“hey chigiri, hey reo, i’m good! i just arrived but this seems like a cool gathering. isagi’s really outdone himself,” you greet.

“yeah he did. good way to unwind before the soccer season gets too crazy,” reo chips in. “nice outfit by the way, you served!”

“oh shut up, you look amazing yourself. you too chigiri.” 

“so… where’s nagi?” the purple-haired asks, checking his phone to see if he had received any texts from his best friend. “didn’t he come with you?”

“yeah but bachira dragged him to go talk to isagi as soon as i arrived. you know how he is.”

after a few more minutes of talking with the two, you finally pause the conversation out of concern about nagi’s whereabouts might be. you thought he’d come and find you after a while but guess you’ll search for him first. 

informing the pair first before breaking away, you wander into the rooms where bachira pulled nagi into, blindly hoping that they’ll be in there. to your chagrin, there were only a few unfamiliar faces spread along the couches, discussing something with a drink in their hand. you ignore the sight of otoya and one of isagi’s friends sitting too close for comfort.

when you walk into the next room, you stop in your tracks at the sight in front of you: nagi leaning against the wall with a stranger who clearly has no distinction of personal space, their hand resting on his chest. your heart plunges the bottom of your stomach as distraught settles within you because of the scene unfolding in front of you, chest churning with a distant ache that you can’t put your finger on.

then he looks over at you.

the instinct to turn around and run overpowers any rational judgement, especially when a flurry of emotions begin to well up inside you, causing you to sink further and further in an ocean of doubt and fear. 

you had no right to be jealous, not over nagi because you’re just his ‘pseudo-partner’, he’s not really yours and it’s moment like these that truly humble you into remembering. you’re just his ‘pseudo-partner’, you’re just his ‘pseudo-partner’, you’re just his-

“-where are you going?” comes an indifferent voice from behind you. all anxiety floods out of you like a broken dam. a warm, large hand tugs on your wrist and even if he had not spoke, you’d know from touch alone that it was nagi behind you. the multitude of times that he’s spent holding you, intertwining his hand with yours, and cherishing you has forced you to brand him into your memory. 

you are his. even if it is not mutual, you would be his until he stomps the fire out.

“i-i thought i was interrupting something,” you stammer, looking into at nagi’s doe eyes.

“you didn’t. actually, you made it better by coming,” he says before wrapping his arms around your torso. “that person wouldn’t leave me alone, such a pain. tried to say i was taken too, so glad you came.”

you return the hug, trusting his words. “glad i came too.”

nagi pulls you out of the water.

“can we leave yet? i don’t wanna be here anymore.”

“just a little longer. i haven’t even seen isagi yet. plus, we should dance.”

he gives you a quick look up and down before nodding in agreement. you smack his shoulder.

you manage to locate isagi rather quickly. he was near the food bar where refreshments and various desserts and snacks laid so after greeting him, wishing him ‘happy birthday’, and chatting with him for approximately five minutes before nagi started getting bitchy, you’re pulled into the dance floor by the white-haired. he said that they were playing a good song when you asked why he was being so impatient.

with a laugh, you give in.

nagi doesn’t really know how to dance but you can’t help but be a little entertained, deciding to end his awkwardness when you grab his hands and lead him through some moves, singing along to the song with each other. it ends with your arms around his neck and his around your waist (again) when a slower song plays. 

hiding your face in his chest, you breathe in the subtle aroma of his cologne that you urged him to put on earlier. when he gently prompts you to look up at him with a hand gently pulling on your hair, your breath gets caught in your throat at the close proximity as nagi stares at your lips, glancing up to meet your eyes again before leaning in.

this time you don’t feel as cruel, bracing yourself for the first sip of water after crossing the desert, for the final puzzle piece clicking into place, for the feeling of his lips slotting against yours; for the feeling of completion. 

instantly you relax at the sensation, melting into his embrace as you hold onto him a little tighter, wanting more. you want to take as much of him as he’ll allow and even then, you’ll cherish every last part.

you want him the same way the ocean longs for the moon.

parting from him makes you feel empty. the lidded look he gives you is full of temptation and… love?

snapping out of your reverie, you step away from him, using his dazed state to create some distance between the two of you as you come to your senses. senses that scream at you for possibly ruining… this. 

you hate that you keep running away from him, leaving him in the dust of the mess that are your feelings. it’s immature, irrational, and downright childish, really it is, but how else can you stop the way you’re about to burst at the seams? how can you stop yourself from devoting yourself fully to nagi seishiro if you don’t forcefully screw the lid over your emotions?

for the second time tonight, the white-haired chases after you because there was never another option. he despises being away from you and despises it even more when it’s him you’re running away from, wanting nothing more than to be by your side at all times.

for the second time tonight, he grabs your wrist but now, he leads you through isagi’s house, weaving through a series of well-kept and simply decorated rooms to finally arrive at a balcony. one that was untouched by the party goers.

“why do you keep doing this?” he asks, pleading for an answer as desperation laces his voice and eyes. “why do you keep running away?”

you’re stunned. he’s hurt by your carelessness and the way you constantly recoil from him as if he was electric, his powerful figure slouching, all his quiet confidence and stubbornness seeping out of him, running to pool at your feet. 

“am i doing something wrong? i thought you liked me.”

“i-i’m confused,” you stammer stupidly. 

he grows even more perplexed. “you’re confused? i’m even more confused! one second i think you like me then the next, you’re trying to avoid me. why do you keep doing this? i really really like you, y/n. but it doesn’t feel like you like me at all sometimes.”

“no!” you blurt out. “it’s not like that! i do like you, a lot, in fact i might even… love you? it’s just…”

as you try to recap the timeline of your relationship in the past few months, you find yourself at a loss for words as you truly realise the multitude of your stupidity. you might slap yourself in the face.

this entire time, nagi has liked you- genuinely liked you for who you are yet you’ve been denying the love he has been trying to share with you since you internalised it all to be a sham. that someone like nagi seishiro couldn’t want you in the same way you wanted him. you’ve been hurting him this entire time and you don’t know how to begin explaining why.

well… no other option than with one word at a time.

you go to grab both his hands, inhaling. “i didn’t think we got together based on genuine feelings.”

he recoils, eyebrows and nose scrunching. 

“i thought you were using me to- i don’t know, trend on the internet by teasing everyone with some sort of secret relationship which sounds so stupid, i know, but i just couldn’t believe that you would want me for me,” you ramble, only stopping to breathe. “these few months have been amazing but i lowkey thought you were going to break up with me and say something like ‘surprise! i’ve never liked you’ before leaving me. i don’t deserve someone like you and-” 

“what?”

you shut up.

“you thought you don’t deserve me? that’s the biggest lie i’ve ever heard. you’re perfect. i was the one that got lucky.”

“lucky? you? really?”

“yeah,” he breathes. “you’re like a gift sent by fate.”

that renders you speechless for a little. there’s more to say, you know there is because of the pregnant silence that lingers around the two of you for a little but maybe that’s for another time. 

are you dreaming? this feels surreal. maybe you’ll start floating too. 

“also, why would i want to trend for any other reason but soccer?”

“i don’t know! you asked me out really abruptly- i’ve never been asked out like that before! talk about confusing. and the paparazzi was waiting for us after too like, what was i supposed to think!”

“i see.”

“yeah.”

more silence.

“so… you love me?” nagi asks and you groan, removing your hands from his to cover your face from embarrassment. 

“i guess i do,” you grumble.

“hey, don’t hide from me,” the white-haired says before grabbing your wrists to lower them from your face. “i love you too.”

“really?”

“yeah.”

“that’s cool.”

“it is.”

you do both of you a favour by kissing him fervently. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“sei, shouldn’t you be getting ready for the match or whatever it is you athletes do?” you ask when nagi’s mop of white hair peaks up from behind the door to your physio office.

he steps out from behind the doorframe, crossing the distance to get to you. he’s sporting his blue lock tracksuit with his hands dug into his pocket and you’re a little envious of how comfortable he looks. “i was until i realised you weren’t there. i was waiting for you to show up.”

“well i don’t really have to be there early. i just get there around 20 or so minutes earlier.”

“i see.”

“why, did you want me there or something?” you ask with a cheeky eyebrow raise, poking him in his sides causing him to recoil a little from your touch.

“why else would i walk all this way?”

“a stunning 50 metres- i’m so sorry for your perilous journey,” you comment, placing a kiss on his cheek before walking away from him to set up your box of medical supplies including kinesio tapes, bandages, and cold spray. he slumps down on the waiting couch near the entrance.

your role as blue lock’s official therapist meant that you had to be on standby for the team at all time during official matches. even though you aren’t their nurse, you still bring first aid things like ice packs to minimise the amount of time spent travelling between offices, especially if that distance is not needed. 

after scanning the box for the last time and mentally ticking your checklist of materials required to bring, you pat your leg in satisfaction before standing up. “i can go to the field now. there’s probably tape changes that i need to do.”

nagi lazily grins, searching for your hand to help pull himself up. “yay.”

“you need to be warming up while we’re at it.”

“aw. okay.”

the walk back to the field is painless enough with nagi holding onto your hand for dear life whilst carrying your box of supplies for you. for someone who is about to compete in less than an hour, he is surprisingly calm, hardly different from his passive, pacifistic self. should you be nervous on his behalf?

stepping in to the field, you’re overwhelmed by the enormousness of blue lock’s home stadium, the lights shining down on you so brightly that you need a moment to recollect yourself. to think that all these empty seats will be filled with various people scares you mindless; even vacant it was still overwhelming.

“y/n!” isagi’s voice breaks you out of your reverie and he jogs over to you with that friendly smile of his. “what’s up?”

“hey isagi, sei dragged me out of my office,” you grumble before turning around to the white-haired who places your supplies on the ground, instructing him to: “go continue warming up.”

he grumbles something incoherent, leaning in to place a kiss on your forehead before running off, leaving you a little flustered as the dark-haired player waits patiently to talk to you.

“so what’s up?”

“i just needed my ankle to be retaped, is that okay?”

“that is my job so come over,” you say, beckoning isagi to one of the benches nearby where you decide to station yourself for the time being. 

whilst you’re unrolling the adhesive, he awkwardly sits there with his shoe and sock off, exposing his joint where he already you tape it for him. 

“do you want pink or blue tape?” you ask, holding up the two options.

“pink.”

the background noises of athletes shouting and kicking soccer balls fill the silence whilst you cut up the length needed to tape isagi’s ankle.

“how are you and nagi?” he asks.

“we’re good,” you respond, mentally reminding yourself to give isagi a present in exchange for his birthday being the sole reason why your relationship strengthened. “both been busy cause of the season but it’s fine.” 

“that’s okay, you’re making it work!” he reassures, “well, nagi is really happy.”

“is he now?” you ask, looking intently at your hands as they worked around isagi’s ankle, hiding your giddy expression from the soccer player. the effect nagi has on you will never disappear.

“yeah! always talks about you to us.”

“does he?”

“of course, why wouldn’t he? swears you’re the best thing to have happened to him in a long time or whatever.”

your heart warms uncontrollably. nagi seishiro was going to be your downfall. 

finishing up on isagi’s ankle, he tests it out quickly before thanking you and running off again to blend in with his teammates again. ‘don’t work too hard!’ you yell out after him.

after retaping chigiri’s knee, commanding karasu to do his recommended exercises, and other various checkups, the boys are ushered back into the stadium so the audience could begin filing in. before nagi went in, he runs over to you, bundling you in his arms despite the various exclaims of ‘hurry up!’ yelled at your white-haired partner.

“gotta go,” he says breathily.

“wait, shouldn’t you take this off?” you ask, gesturing to your hair tie which sat snugly at his wrist. 

“do i have to?”

“you can always rewear it after the match sei, it’s not a big deal.” 

“fine. i’ll see you soon then.”

you give him a smile of reassurance, hugging him back. “go. i’ll be watching, my superstar.”

his eyes shine. “cheer for me, won’t you?”

“of course i will. i’m your lucky charm,” you tease but he takes your statement quite literally, grinning at what you say which only illuminates the cheery look on his face.

“can my lucky charm give me a kiss?”

cupping his face, you quickly place a peck on his nose before lightly pushing him away. you know the kiss is not good enough to satiate his hunger but perhaps that’s just what you want from him, to try hard for a better reward. and in this case, by trying harder, he would bring home the trophy.

“go line up!” you command. 

nagi grumbles something before stepping away, “i’ll score for you.” 

he dashes towards the stadium entrance, leaving you in a lovesick daze as you watch him retreat. someone clears their throat behind you and you remember where you are, sitting down to preserve some professionalism. 

sitting in the medics corner was scary, especially as you watch every seat getting gradually filled with an onslaught of different people, but all you need to do for the 90 minutes is watch and be attentive to the game and the health of the players. an easy job for the amount of pay you get.

when the teams walks out into the field, everyone in the stands erupt into a roar, waving their various flags and colours. despite the chaos, nagi looks over at you and you blow him a kiss, unsure of whether or not he could actually see you. 

as everything settles down, the match finally begins, starting off with a bang. from time to time you talk with the two other blue lock medics and spend the other moments admiring your boyfriend in his athletic glory.

it’s not until almost halftime that something disastrous happens. when itoshi rin collides face-first into another player, toppling over on the field on top of each other, the crowd erupts into a series of gasps and concerned noises. as the referee’s whistle is called, you three official blue lock staff scramble to the middle of the field where a crowd was gathering around the two, trying to help their soccer players but stepping out of the way when you approach.

“where are you?” one medic begins asking.

“the stadium. we’re in the middle of a match,” comes rin’s gruff tone.

“you are?”

“itoshi rin.”

“how many fingers am i holding up?”

“four.”

“what hurts?”

“my fucking face,” rin snarkily replies, trying to stand up but not making it past his knees as he stumbles a little, holding on to his nose. “shit.”

taking his hand away, there are droplets of red coating his skin and you snake yourself under his arm in order to assist with helping him to the medic’s area, another nurse doing the same. hopefully it’s not serious and he won’t need be to sent to hospital, only benched by ego. which, he was. 

in your panic, you don’t register any of the commotion happening within the players themselves whereas nagi, on the other hand, hears it all clearly. how a player on the team he was playing against says something like ‘look at that cutie. reckon i could cuff ‘em?’ where his friend replies with a ‘yeah dude. seems like a babe to be honest, workin’ as a nurse and shit’, geturing to you.

nagi has never felt such an overwhelming urge to punch someone, to jump the two players and tear them apart with the fury he feels accumulating in his insides.

the whistle to notify that the game was continuing disrupts nagi’s train of thought. he goes back into position but not without snaring at the opposition. 

blue lock seems to be doing fine without their number one player for the remainder of the game; in fact, nagi is practically dominating the whole field as he shoots, earning goals left and right for blue lock. he’s moving with unmatched determination; a blazing kind that you’ve never seen from him despite having seen countless of his games. you wonder what happened to him since rin got injured, where did the calm, unbothered nagi go? why are you kind of scared of your boyfriend right now?

maybe your good luck kiss worked in giving him the boost you predicted.

however, you never could have predicted the huge turnaround that your life would take when nagi’s jealousy gets too ahead of itself. when his urge to show the world whose you are outspeaks his rationality, too caught up in the torments of untamed jealousy. he’s never felt this way before; a carnal desire so inherent that it makes him feel bare.

only you could do this to him.

and only you could fix the ugly monster inside him

when blue lock scores the goal needed to take the trophy home, the stadium is deafening, so loud that you need to cover your ears from the unrestrained passion of fans and watchers alike, the buzz of excitement unmatched. 

nagi is awarded man of the match, taking home a shiny trophy in recognition of his athleticism and remarkable talents. yet the first thing he does when taking his prize is not rush over to his teammates and… do whatever it is that men do, but to run over to where you reside, a possessive and dark look in his eyes. it sends shivers down your spine. 

he sweeps you into his arms, winding you so close that you can feel the body heat radiating from him, even through the fabric of his jersey. the trophy presses against your back.

“can i kiss you?” nagi questions although it sounds more like a demand, especially with that breathy voice due to how much he’s been running around.

short circuiting for a moment, you reply: “but everyone’s watching.”

“let them.”

you’re well aware of the multitude of cameras that may be pointed at you and nagi. if you act stupidly, it will appear on the internet and who knows what repercussions it might bring, are you ready to be thrown into a life of chaos, joining alongside your boyfriend?

the answer is obvious when you take the initiative of kissing him, allowing him to devour you whole: his first act of establishing just exactly who you were to the entire world.

you adore how scandalous this feels.

his second act comes mere minutes later at the exit where paparazzi and media were waiting patiently behind barriers for their star players. this time, instead of leaving alone or with his teammates, there’s an unidentified figure accompanying him, hugged close to his side and proudly wearing his jersey. the very one that boasts ‘NAGI’ along the back. everything descends into chaos. 

an immense feeling of deja vu encompasses you when you recall the day nagi asked you out and the overwhelming lineup of paparazzi and photographers that waited for him outside. it’s different now. you feel confident in your place beside nagi, looking perfect to him in his clothes- as if you were meant to be his.

nagi walks in front of you to use his stature to protect from the greedy eyes of the internet whilst you use your hands to cover your face as best as possible, all to ensure your privacy from those who are going to eat these photos up when they see them. 

and- well, if everyone is going to see them then why not send a little message whilst nagi’s here?

the kiss nagi sneaks on your neck is entirely proprietorial, a clear sign of affection for the whole world to see as he eyes the cameras with a deadly look in his eyes. 

“mine,” he mutters in your ear, sending one last glare over his shoulder before disappearing from their nosiness and intruding flashes.

the cameras can see your hair tie that slips up when his sleeves are tugged too short.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

your notifications are rampant the next morning, mostly because of friends, and ‘#nagi seishiro’ has taken the internet by storm once again.

this feeling of anxiety settling in your stomach will never go away whenever you check social media to see if any of your information has been leaked and by whatever miracle, you’re absolutely relieved to see that nothing drastic has been revealed.

speaking of boyfriend, nagi stirs from where he lays beside you, stretching for a moment before patting the bed in search for your warmth. 

shutting off your phone and putting it down, you watch him try to locate you, unable to stop the smile from stretching at the corner of your lips. he’s adorable. even more so when he has to open one eye because his instincts were failing him.

“oh. why are you awake?” he asks groggily, still adjusting to consciousness. nagi tries to sit up to rest on his elbows only to fail miserably and fall face-first into his lush pillow.

“body clock,” you say. you’ll talk about yesterday later. right now, it was just you and him and the soft glow of the sun saying good morning.

“turn it off and go back to sleep.”

“fine.”

“c’mere,” nagi beckons you over weakly, hands reaching for your figure but falling short due to the enormous size of his bed.

it’s not like nagi to splurge on things but it is like him to splurge on getting the most comfortable bed ever, so when he demands you to fall back asleep, how could you say no when it feels like napping on a cloud? and with your adorable boyfriend? some things in life come too easy.

shuffling back towards him, he’s quick to throw an arm and a leg around you, trapping you in. 

“my body hurts,” whines nagi. “so much.”

“what do you want me to do about that?”

“massage later, please?” 

“is that all i am to you?” you question teasingly whilst rubbing hearts into his skin.

“maybe,” he sings.

astounded, you give him your best look of betrayal. “we’re breaking up.”

“no, don’t do that,” nagi pleads, hugging you closer as if you were going to get up from his vice grip in the first place. “don’t be mean.”

“oh sure because i’m the mean one,” you joke as he burrows his head into your neck. instinctively, your hands card through his hair, extra soft from washing it last night. after a moment of silence, you speak up. “you’re trending again because of me so just remember that what i said about our fame-grabbing relationship was true.”

“i didn’t mean for that to happen. i’m just too good,” he takes his head out of your neck, doe eyes looking up at you with heart wrenching awe. “and i love you too much to hide it.”

you pat his cheek, unable to stop a wide, dreamy smile from appearing on your face. “go back to sleep.”

“‘k. goodnight.” the second nagi’s head hits his pillow, he’s out like a light. 

it’s a little surreal to be wrapped in his embrace like this, to be able to gaze at his features so closely and unabashedly whilst his arms extend to mould you into him. even being as close as humanly possible isn’t enough for nagi who has an unlimited desire for more, at all times. 

if it’s you he wants, then you’ll happily grant it.

the last thing you see before falling into a deep slumber is a hair tie that lies on his bedside table.

[bunny584]

Hard Night, Good Morning

A/N: .....i…no one look at me. Just read. Hurt/Comfort/hurt? Idk. This shit had me scream crying either way. Post Sukuna Kaisen, but the good guys won.

Art credit: Narutoss_ramen on X

Satoru remembers. His Six Eyes may have dulled to just two. And the battle scars may have faded. But the memories — the film roll featuring a life lived and still living…are all there.

Satoru remembers, but Suguru has forgotten.

His name. His home. The life he’s lived. The life he lost. The friendships, the family, the triumphs, the sins. It’s all gone because Suguru Geto died on December 24th.

At least, his soul did.

And yet, Satoru is about to buy coffee from the shell of a man he once loved. Here. Today. With a smile more beautiful than the first day of summer solstice.

Tabula Rasa. Blank Slate. A stranger he knows better than the back of his hand.

How will The Strongest…no, how will Satoru Gojo choose to know Suguru Geto in this iteration of his life?

Friends? Lovers?

Or just a patron of the handsome barista at a countryside coffee shop with the best lavender latte around.

Ignorance has a way of making things beautiful. 

Exquisite, really. 

Satoru’s eyes flutter closed. His angular nose nestles into an arc of plumb blossoms. Dancing in the wind. Hanging freely — generously — for everyone on its walking path to enjoy. 

Has the world always been this gorgeous?

And so…quiet. 

It was the first thing Satoru noticed once his Six Eyes were laid to rest. The moment Limitless buzzed inward for the very last time, all he could see was silence. 

Saffron became orange. 

Emerald became green. 

Ursa Major became a handful of stars. 

The Sun stayed the Sun. The Moon seemed so cold. And the world became so dull. 

Wonderfully and peacefully dull. 

Satoru was no longer tortured by hyperawareness. A double edged sword, but a sword no less. The minuscule details of a person’s skin or each drop of rainfall during a thunderstorm no longer gnawed at his sanity. 

The smoke eventually settled. 

The Survivors, they aptly nicknamed themselves, peeled off the armor. When the chaos dissipated and the Demon was banished to the Hell he belonged, The Survivors dispersed. 

Unable to hold each other’s gaze. For fear of recognizing the monsters they had to become to earn the throne from the King of Curses. 

So, Satoru found himself buying a one-way ticket to the tail end of the country.

Where the greens and oranges and yellows exist that much more peacefully. And the Sun is the Sun. But the handful of stars are solar bright and the Moon is the warmest it’s ever been for him.

And he is so damn lucky.

To have the privilege of living without the weight of being The Strongest. 

To stop and smell spring on his way to partake in the latest breaking news. 

A new coffee shop. 

Bone dry cappuccinos. Colombian espresso. Raspberry macaroons without the threat of curses and fear and death and loss knocking around his skull. 

“Good morning! Welcome in.”

What?

The chimes above the door may as well be blow horns. Tearing at the eardrums Satoru is sure are already ruined. The meaningless, polite greeting suddenly holds the gravity of an entire galaxy behind it. 

But not because the words are unique. 

The voice. 

Satoru could be dumb, deaf and blind. He would recognize that voice under any circumstance. 

As a baby? He’d know that voice signifies safety. 

As a teen? That voice meant becoming a man worth respecting. With morals that would save millions. 

That night? That voice meant love. In the cruelest sense of the word. 

Then? That voice only spewed lies. 

And now? That voice means…it means..

“Don’t be shy, I don’t bite.” Brilliant amethyst eyes melt the ice shackles around Satoru’s feet. 

Royal purple. Somewhere between indigo and violet. A warm, heavy cloak when they are looking at you reverently. When they’re trusting. Bright. Honest. 

But when they see you as the enemy? The other? Trying to thwart a world they’ve envisioned and worked hard for, those amethyst eyes are more lethal than scorpion venom. 

“S-su…Suguru…?” His feet move forward all at once. Nearly impaling himself on the counter. Satoru’s peripheral vision isn’t as sharp, but there is a line. And yet, none of that matters.

None of it fucking matters.

The barista’s thick, inky locks are pulled up like it used to be when they were seventeen. His shoulders are as broad and muscular as they were the last night they spoke. His voice.

 His voice 

And his eyes. And lips. And smile. The stupid, boyish dimple cratered in his left cheek. With eyelashes long enough to support a fleet of planes taking off the runway. 

It’s Suguru. 

Suguru Geto. 

Not an imposter. Not something so dark and blasphemous, Satoru nearly flattened the Earth to exorcise.

Just Suguru.

And he knows it to be true. Not by his eyes, because they can lie to him now. But his soul and heart would tell him otherwise. 

“Suguru..” Satoru tastes a name so foreign to his lips, he nearly chokes on it.

The beautiful boy lets out a gentle chuckle. Flickering down to his name tag before returning eye contact. 

“So I’m told.” He shrugs. His long span reaches over to place a porcelain espresso cup beneath the machine nozzle.

“You look like you need something strong. Hard night?”

“Y—yeah.” Say something real, idiot.

 “Ahh,” Suguru rolls his plump bottom lip under his teeth. Eyebrows crawling together in genuine concern. And Satoru wishes he could swallow his heart currently beating in his throat.

“Let’s start with an espresso, then. What’s your name?” 

The question alone nearly brings Satoru to his knees.

How could he not know?

It’s me, Suguru. 

Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto. 

Their names only being a few letters away is a testament to the relationship they shared. They’ve only ever existed as one. As sure as the Sun rising in the east and setting in the west. In lockstep like a custom made door key. 

Suguru’s name is…was an integral part of his identity. Not just his vocabulary. 

“Uh, Satoru.” Sweaty palms fiddle for his wallet. Anything to dull the searing pain in his chest. 

“Satoru…?” 

“Yes?” Arctic eyes snap up to meet violet ones. As if the barista spontaneously remembered, Satoru’s flushed lips hang open with naive hope. 

But Suguru just quietly rolls the syllables of his name around one more time. Rich on the tongue, he decides. “That’s a nice name.” 

“Thanks.” Disappointment weighs heavy on his shoulders.

“The espresso is on the house. What else can I make for you, Satoru?”

And his name sounds sweeter than the pastry he stumbled in here for. He would pay anything. To tuck that velvet voice in a jar and replay it on rainy days, Satoru would give anything. 

“A lavender latte.” He flickers to the glass display. “And two of the Kikufuku, please.”

“Done. Have a seat.” Suguru nods at the corner table.

“Take a load off. I’ll bring your stuff over.” His lips lax into an intoxicating smile and Satoru’s world spins. 

No more than two seconds after his butt hits the seat, Satoru wedges his cell between his ear and shoulder. Each unanswered ring chips away at his patience. 

“Hey normie.” 

“Shoko,” Satoru sighs into the speaker. Too relieved to insult her back.

“Long time no speak,” she chides. He can almost hear the pull of her cigarette sizzling against her lips. 

“I know.” She’s right, but none of them are speaking right now. They all need a little time. 

“Sorry about that. Listen, I’ve got a question.” Satoru chews his bottom lip raw. Suguru’s back is facing him, perfecting his order.

“Don’t sound so tortured about it, shoot.” Shoko swings the door wide open and Satoru barrels through. 

“When people come back from the dead, what’s the likelihood of losing all memories?” 

“What?” Her tone makes his question sound so egregious he almost rethinks asking it. 

Almost. 

He doesn’t though. Because the raven-haired barista has flashed his Colgate smile and will be heading over in t-2 minutes. And Satoru…he needs something to hold onto. A life vest to keep him from drowning.

“C’mon Sho, how do memories work when you bring people back from the dead?” Each word is more hushed than the last. A thinly veiled attempt at hiding his insanity. 

“…when did you find him?” 

The second time today oxygen is taken directly from Satoru’s lungs. How did she know?

“What the hell are you—“

“How is he..?”

“Shoko, I don’t know what you’re talking—“

“He was my friend TOO, Satoru.” His best friend cuts down his silver-tongued lies for the last time. 

She’s right.

It’s inhumane to brush it aside. Satoru cannot fathom the pain she had to work through when she lost Suguru. Then Satoru. And Suguru again. It’s unfair for him to be selfish with this. 

“This morning.” He concedes.  

The doctor mulls his answer over. Short, choppy breaths that sound more relieved than not feather through the speaker.

“Let’s talk tomorrow, my patient is here.” She ends the call before he can protest. The life vest won’t come today. Not from Shoko at least.

As always, Suguru enters with perfect timing. Balancing an espresso, latte and dessert on one forearm. He always did move with the grace of a danseur noble. 

“Your treats.” In one fluid motion, a pair of steaming drinks and sweets are lined in front of him in the order they should be consumed. 

He is still so thoughtful.

The leash around Satoru’s control snaps in half. His hand darts to Suguru’s forearm just as he turns to leave. His person tilts his head to the side. Quizzical. But kind. And patient. Satoru hasn’t said a word but he knows Suguru would listen to each syllable. 

“Do you not…have them?” Satoru can hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth. 

“Have what?” Suguru probes, stepping into his grasp. 

“The hard nights,” the Strongest retorts. Darting his eyes out of the window as if the two of them are in a realm they don’t belong in. 

And maybe they are. 

Satoru bites back a fond chuckle when Suguru makes his face. An exaggerated frown with narrowed eyes. He resembles a jaguar most in those moments, and Satoru never let him live it down. 

“No,” Suguru starts, shaking his head almost regretfully. “I don’t remember enough to have a sleepless night.”

He could remember for the both of them. 

Satoru would spend every minute of every hour of every day for the rest of his life infusing memories into his best friend. Whatever he wanted to know. He’ll speak from sunrise to sunset until he passed on and call it a life well lived. 

“What do you…what do you mean?” Satoru pipes up, pulling the barista back when he attempts to leave again. 

Suguru’s confusion melts into the warmth Satoru never found a replacement for. No one ever looked at him so tenderly. Grace and patience tailor made just for him. 

“It’s a long, bizarre story,” Suguru warns. 

“I have time!” Satoru sits up in his seat. Still gripping his forearm. 

“We—I, I have all the time in the world now, Suguru.” 

His casual laugh is anything but. Fractures in his base. A wobble at the tail end of Suguru’s name. 

Satoru is anything but casual. 

And Suguru knows it. 

The way his eyes soften when he scans the retired sorcerer’s face. He always did read Satoru like a children’s coloring book. 

“Sure, I’m on a break anyway.” 

Suguru settles into the seat across from him. Meanwhile Satoru digs the pads of his fingers into his thighs. Anything to keep from reaching out and caressing those stunning features that used to keep him (and everyone else) up at night. 

He was so stupid back then. 

Not letting himself acknowledge the way his body reacted to Suguru. The boy had his body so well trained within the first few days of meeting him. 

On any given day all Satoru wanted was to touch him. And feel him. And take him in any way Suguru was willing to give. 

Even when he gave, it was not enough.

How could it be?

Suguru’s heart ran deeper than Mariana’s Trench and soared higher than Mount Everest — and it still wasn’t enough to quench Satoru’s thirst. 

His visceral need. To live and breathe in the dark haired curse user with striking violet eyes. 

It’ll never be enough. 

“What’s on your mind, Satoru?” The barista probes. A question with the comfort of being familiar and pain of being foreign all at once. 

Satoru offers a lopsided smile. His hand swiping the moisture from the back of his neck.

“Sorry. You remind me of someone I used to know.”

“Mmm,” Suguru’s smile feels nostalgic. “Was he a good person?”

The question is earnest. Almost like he’s trying to learn about himself because his mind has betrayed him. 

Satoru gathers a shaky breath. Digging crescent moons into his sweaty palms. 

“The best.” He won’t cry today. He refuses to. 

“Principled. Moral. So right in his thinking it…” Satoru drops his gaze. 

Unable to sustain eye contact with his fondest memory and biggest regret. Just sitting across from him on a sunny Sunday morning. 

“Sounds like you liked him, then.” Suguru muses. 

“I loved him.” I love you.

“Mmm.” Suguru’s striking lines soften in a way that reminds Satoru why he could never muster the courage to hate him. No matter how many guns were pointed at his head.

An imaginary fork pushes around their words. Like the extra time in the air would let them dry out. Suddenly become devoid of all its meaning.

“Is something wrong?” Suguru breaks the silence and startles Satoru down to the present. 

“What?”

“The coffee,” Concern etched into the barista’s face. “Is there something wrong? You’re tearing up—“

Suguru’s hand lands on Satoru’s wet cheek before he has a chance to swipe the rogue tears away. 

And he can’t help himself. Both hands snake around Suguru’s wrist. The life vest he’s been desperate for.

 Satoru’s lids flutter shut. 

And for a moment, albeit fleeting, but present nonetheless — for a moment everything is right.

Satoru and Suguru are 17 again. Riding the high of being strong, the strongest. 

They were untouchable. 

And Satoru was so helplessly in love. 

Greens were emerald, back then. Oranges were saffron. But the Sun was Suguru. And if Satoru was the Moon then he clawed his way to dawn each night, just to get a glimpse of him. 

“Sato—“

“I’m sorry. Sorry about that.” Satoru bashfully relinquishes his grip. 

Despite its freedom, Suguru’s hand hovers over his cheek. Ready to act if any more tears come. 

Of course, he is. 

And thankfully, they don’t. 

But Suguru’s concern persists. “Just…wait here, okay? I’ll go get some tissues.” 

Satoru offers a feeble smile. A half nod in feigned agreement. But the millisecond he disappears around the corner, Satoru is out the door.

He promised he wouldn’t cry today. 

And it wouldn’t be the first time he lied to himself. 

“Gorgeous.” 

Suguru buries his face into a brush of plum blossoms. His morning walk is littered with them and for some reason he feels connected to the blooms.

Almost as if memories from a past life are clawing underwater — desperate to break the surface before the tide crashes in again.

A frustrated breath showers the soft petals grazing his nose. 

It’s cruel. 

Existing like this is cruel.

To live and breathe and walk next to lives rich with memories. Adorned with hope and love and loss and pain. 

Yet Suguru has nothing. 

He must’ve been a monster to deserve this punishment. To wake up a blank slate. The letters of his own name had to be learned.

He must’ve been awful. 

The chimes above the shop door knock his thoughts loose.

It’s not totally true. Suguru does remember one thing. The only thing from that night the gods saw fit to leave in his reservoir.

The cold. 

It seared through him like a sword fit for a king. 

Suguru was nearly blinded by the sterile fluorescent lights. The walls leaned away from him. Accusatory. His presence bastardized the delicate line between life and death.

It was unacceptable. 

And so, he paid the steep price of life after soul-death with his memories. 

It’s unfair how vividly Suguru remembers the campfire eyes that were foreign and yet so inviting. Hovering over him. Salty streams splashed on his face like a summer storm. 

“Suguru??” Honeyed tobacco on her voice. Sweet and stringent all at once. 

“You’re awake. You’re here. God I—“ Misty mahogany eyes raked his face for another second before she landed her body into his stunned arms. 

“W-who are you?” Suguru stammered into her dampened neck. Hugging her just as tight because it’s what his body told him to do. 

“Someone who hates you. And loves you more than I could ever hate you.” She was hushed and pressured. Pressing angry, short kisses along his forehead. Sore with a linear cut and stitches that stung. 

“You have to go.” The woman stuffed an envelope bursting with yen into his hand. Stuffing a wallet full of IDs and note cards into his other.

“What is all this?” Was the last question he squeezed out to the pretty stranger.

She hissed strict instructions on how to leave the city. Where he came to life was no longer safe. But she emptied her savings into his hands. Because if he just listened to her. If he followed her directions to a tee and make it out of city limits alive, he would be set for the next decade at the very least. 

This same memory plagues Suguru’s otherwise empty mind day in and day out. He’s learned to live with the sudden flashback that catches his heart mid-beat. And holds it hostage for a minute or two.

Suguru shrugs the chills sprinting down his spine away. Circling a damp napkin along the counter. Less than a minute before the doors unlock and he can just tell today is going to be one of those— 

7:00 AM on the dot.

A familiar wind chime interrupts his train of thought.

Already?

Suguru eyes land on the reason for the prompt melody. 

And his souls halts where he stands. 

He can’t be real. 

A dream maybe? A hallucination?

He must be. The light that halos around him from crown to feet originates in Heaven. Bright enough to pierce lightyears away through earth’s insignificant clouds and blind Suguru in his tracks.

Satoru. 

A celestial prince walking among the likes of him.

Wholly unworthy of witnessing something so beautiful. So above the plane of his existence. Suguru doesn’t deserve to breathe around the ethereal being, much less serve him coffee. 

But he’ll count his blessings, nonetheless. 

“Hard night?” Suguru forces a steady tone to his casual greeting. 

He’s anything but casual. 

“They always are.” Satoru’s boyish smile is the first sip of warm hot cocoa on a wintery Sunday morning. 

Suguru could nibble and suck and roll the demigod’s words over his tongue all day and never grow tired of the taste. 

He flips a freshly cleaned espresso mug under the machine. Mulling over the number of times he can claim “it’s on the house” before Satoru realizes he could ask Suguru for anything and it would always be on his dime. 

“You don’t sleep very much do you?” The barista probes. Swallowing the elaborate rock formation that somehow materialized in his throat the second Satoru landed the Aegean Sea on him. 

Those eyes stretch a million miles and Suguru would happily swim to the end of the earth to experience the entirety of them. 

“No.” A sheepish smile curls up Satoru’s full baby pink lips. Baring a 10,000 kilowatt smile that nearly electrifies him to death.  

Suguru settles an espresso and lavender latte in front of him. Waving away the outstretched credit card. 

“You can call me, you know.” The offer tumbles out of Suguru before he had the wherewithal to edit the frivolous statement.

“What?” Satoru’s gorgeous eyes widen and Suguru digs sharp nails into his sweaty palm.

“Call me.” He’s stupidly bold. 

“—When you can’t sleep. I’m not that interesting and don’t have much to by way of advice given that I only started creating memories a couple months ago. But I’m a good listener.” Suguru’s cheeks ascend in degree with each word of his sloppy rant. 

“You are…” Satoru corroborates his egregious claims as if it’s truth.

How would he know if he’s any good at listening? They just met yesterday morning. 

“So, call me.” Suguru shrugs his shoulders with the familiarity of someone who has known Satoru his whole life. 

Before the voltaic being can protest, Suguru scribbles digits that are plastered all over his apartment walls. Spaced repetition of his own phone number  for fear that his memory would decide to rip away the little he is currently storing. 

Time freezes while Satoru studies the scribbled numbers. His lips form that devastatingly beautiful blue smile more brilliant than his eyes. With the depth of twenty seas combined. 

“Yeah, okay.” The angel captures Suguru gaze. “I’ll call.”

And for the first time his new mind can recall, Suguru is dismantled piece by piece. His insides turned over by the searing pain that is disappointment. Because when he watched the mercurial boy leave the shop. And make the same right turn he did yesterday — Suguru’s heart knew. 

The phone wouldn’t ring.

And the call would never come. 

“Couldn’t exactly have him walking around Shibuya, with everything—“

“I know, but Shoko we can’t…”

Satoru’s voice stalls and he hovers on frustrated feet. Less than 10 paces from facing the love of his life on a Tuesday morning like his world hasn’t been turned upside down.

“We can’t just abandon him here. Alone. Confused. I won’t—“

“What do you want me to do Satoru?” Shoko interjects. Her frustration is palpable, yes, but the point is valid. 

Satoru drags in more liters of air than he knew possible. Letting it all out like storm winds in a category 5 hurricane.

“I don’t..I don’t know but I won’t leave him like this, Shoko. I can’t.” His voice couldn’t convince a fly with how shaky it is. 

But thankfully, Shoko can read him like a children’s book. She always could.

“Let’s talk about this in person. How soon can you get here?”

“I’ll be on the next flight out.” Satoru perks up. Urgency crashing into him like rip tides. 

He eyes the dark-haired barista through the window pane. Adjusting his eyes before fully taking in the boy of his dreams. 

And nightmares. 

Suguru is vibrant. 

In a way that hurts so good you can’t help but come back for seconds. And thirds. Fourths, fifths, whatever scraps he would be willing to give you’d get on your knees and beg for. 

Satoru would. Any day. 

“Hard night?” The former sorcerer calls out. 

“Yeah, but..” Suguru looks up and Satoru relaxes into a lovesick smile. “Good morning.”

A few seconds of wonderfully familiar silence falls between the boys. Suguru flips the espresso cup into place like he was born to do anything.

Anything he touches is artisan. That hasn’t changed in this new universe they exist in. 

“You never called, Satoru.” His voice is sweeter than whipped cream. Satoru gnaws on his cheeks to keep from choking on his desire. 

“I know.”

“I would’ve come.”

“I know.” And the traitorous tears well up without his consent again.

“Okay, okay.” Suguru is hushed. As if a decibel too loud would break Satoru’s dam.

Beautiful boy. 

His dam broke the night Suguru left him on the sidewalk for righteous ideals and the people who would follow them. 

It hasn’t been repaired since. 

“Lavender latte and something sweet. Back table?” Suguru whispers the order to himself and Satoru’s heart breaks. 

“To go, actually.” 

The sudden change in routine startles Suguru still.  “Oh.” 

Satoru rolls his abused lips under his teeth. Shuffling on his feet because it would take nothing for him to stay. And play this new game of life with his soulmate like the rest of it never happened. 

He would swallow the pain of his past everyday if Suguru so much as looks at him a certain way. 

“Why are you leaving?” Suguru’s brows crawl together in a way that’s so earnest. Satoru could fall to his knees. 

“I um…I know a doctor. She’s smart. And m-maybe she can help get your memories back..” 

“A doctor?” 

Suguru probes quicker than Satoru expected. Given that his response sounded insane to even his own ears.

“Honey brown eyes and hair…” The barista speaks to his hands as if he’s reading from cue cards. 

“Satoru this is going to sound crazy.” 

Suguru’s eyes light up and Satoru falls deeper in love. Like it’s the logical next step. An obvious response. 

“But I feel…did we—did we know each other?” 

Those gorgeous, amethyst eyes unravel the heavy chains around Satoru’s heart. 

You knew each other. 

Loved each other. 

Fought for, gave to, sacrificed it all for each other. 

Satoru unravels at his battered seams. Only able to hold the facade of a lopsided smile for a few more moments. 

“It’s a long, bizarre story.” It hurts to laugh. 

“Tell me,” the barista can’t hide his excitement. 

“We..we have time now. You mentioned it the other day, Satoru.” 

This boy will be the death of him. In every lifetime he’s reborn in. 

Satoru doesn’t even try to slap away the hot salty shower lining his sleep deprived eyes. 

“An infinity.” He nods. “So don’t…don’t forget about me, Suguru.”

The sun shines through his romantic smile. The stupid, boyish dimple cratered in his left cheek. 

“How could I?” Suguru hands over the latte and espresso in to-go cups. 

Blissfully unaware that he has already forgotten Satoru once. 

And he forgives him. He’s forgiven the special grade for much worse without question. 

And Satoru will continue to forgive him. 

The memories may be gone. 

The curtain may be closed on their first novel together. But if there’s anything Satoru has come to love it’s time. 

The Gods saw it fit to give them a little more time and Satoru would rather die than squander it. 

“You’re unforgettable, Satoru!” Suguru calls out, just as he exits the small town coffee shop. 

Yeah, well. 

Maybe in this new lifetime, he will be. 

[harfanfare]

Unique Kisses: Honest Fellow

Heartslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore || Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Rollo, Che'nya, Neige || Honest Fellow

a/n: fluff, implied female reader (”princess” pet name). I have no idea how to deal with the brainriot that came with the appearance of this shady man, like what.

Honest Fellow (teasing kisses)

“My little star,” Fellow’s lips trail your knuckles, and you can feel a smile against your skin as he senses your pulse quicken. He has the audacity to look so gentlemanly, oh so very blithely, as if this idea has just struck his head under this evening’s romantic atmosphere. “May I have this kiss?”

You’d like to reply, really, but in the next second there are lips on your jawline and a glowed hand that raises your chin; the words you had on your tongue die as you gasp slightly, your eyes fluttering open by the sudden sensation.

Well, you’re charmed. Infatuated with love or ensorceled by a thick layer of Fellow’s unique magic, you don’t reject those dramatic touches, scenic enough to feel like being pulled into a play where a gentlemanly prince kisses a princess.

And while Fellow might have the reputation of being a gentleman, he’s too impish, too rouge to be one. He can only play the role, the facade might even drop, but dumb princesses—you dare to compare yourself to one as Fellow uses that pet name, among countless others—are known for falling even for twisted men.

“Why so quiet?” He asks, and you quiver with frustration, as he seals your lips again. That damn bastard; he thinks the navy suit he wears makes him look sleek and the way he tucks his holey gloves off is luscious enough to make your cheeks blush. He isn’t that wrong, yet…

…It is infuriating to dance to Fellow’s tune in a choreography he is a lead to. Even if you love him.

“Stop… teasing me like this,” you manage to lift your head enough so that you break the kiss. Fellow snorts at your poor attempt to catch a breath and at the weak try to keep him at your elbow’s distance, as he holds you close to his chest. The sweet scent of the cologne he wears makes you even more dizzy.

He moves his hands to your hair and tucks the stray locks behind your ear. If he could grab the camera, he would capture the adorable expression you wear—but he doesn’t want to waste his time searching for that fickle thing, no, no. He isn’t able to concentrate on anything else, and he needs to satisfy the whim of alluring you (once again) before he’ll be physically able to move away.

“My, you don’t sound very convincing,” he smiles and strokes your cheek so gently. “But I will believe you. Loveliest, just say a word, and I’ll just kiss you goodnight for the last time.”

Like you could’ve expected, you aren’t granted a chance to say anything else. He kisses you more and more, and at this point, the most fastidious princess would be already satisfied.

…Fellow might be scared. He might not want to hear your answer, even if the look in your eyes and the way your heart beats should be enough to suffice any of his questions.

If you could utter a word, you would confess your love once for the thousandth time.

“That’s right. The silence says it all,” he whispers as his thumb traces your lips. “You are so gorgeous, and you are mine.”

Like a doll. But you’re no doll, you’re more beautiful than any masterpiece magic could ever create. You’re free, and you choose to stay with him. There are no strings attached to your hands that keep him at his side. There is just one, tightly knotted on your heart and it’s a cherished bond you put on yourself.

He doesn’t have a puppet in you. He has a lover who will shower him with selfless love, yet he still can’t believe anyone would have given it to him for free.

So, he must’ve stolen it.

He smiles. “By obligation of being a thief, I will steal your heart all over again, and keep it safe with me.” I love you. "That’s the duty I owe to myself as you are my treasure.”

[yandere-fics]

♡ Raphael Master/Servant Kink ♡

(reader is dumb and doesn't realize Raphael is actually in love with them, thinks this is just part of her kink.)

Your boss was a unique one, right off the bat you really couldn't stand her, she never behaved like a dignified noble should around you, treating you specially which you feared would only make your life more difficult if the other servants decided to be jealous of you being her favorite, it wasn't going to end well but you decided you would make the best of it while it lasted which is how you discovered this seemed to be your boss's weird kink, acting as though you were her master and she was her loyal servant, a role reversal thing perhaps and while you were typically opposed to getting involved with nobles, you'd seen how difficult the lives of favored servants became when their masters clutched onto them, if this was only her kink then it had nothing to do with the fact that it was you so when it came your time to leave you were sure she'd just find someone else to participate in this with. Though you still wished she'd maintain decorum outside of the bedroom, you would rather avoid any rumors about you engaging in illicit activities with her, it would make it more difficult to be hired elsewhere if people knew you were sleeping with your boss. Like today, you had just been trying to sweep, your only task for the day, the head maid assigned you less work since you were the only one who could stop the lord of the manor when she was crying, and she had come up behind you to hug you.

"My Dearest Sunflower, I missed you." You knew she only meant in the bedroom, you hadn't been there in a couple of days since she'd been busy working and while she had tried to cajole you a few times, you'd remained firm in not distracting her, still you wished she wouldn't say it like that, other people could misinterpret your relationship as one of a romantic variety. You had tried to reprimand her about this in the past but it seemed not to change her mind and in fact only mad her 'affection' more vocal so instead you settled for telling her to just make sure she did it only when no one else was around. She'd cried, whispering something under her breath about how sweet you were but you shouldn't be concerned with her reputation, you didn't hear the other thing she said afterwards, she was too quiet of a talker honestly, another trait unbecoming of a noble.

"Master Raphael, do not call me that in the hallway. I will see you later tonight when my chore is completed." She sighed and slumped against your back, already beginning to sniffle, yet another thing you disliked about her, her quickness to cry when denied what she wanted and you could only assume what she wanted was to be able to role play with you right this second. She really ought to be more patient.

"I could take away your burdens if you'd only let me, dearest sunflower. You deserve far more than this." She was just saying that you were sure, just another part of the role play. If she really wanted to lift your burdens then she would stop acting like this where anyone could walk in and see the both of you, it would help your anxiety if she would keep this solely in the bedroom though you supposed it was only fair she was acting like this right now when she had been unable to express herself for a couple days. "Can't I ease your tension for a bit, dearest sunflower?" You sighed and nodded, hopefully the other maids would understand the master had pulled you away from your work, you always told them that she just liked the way your tea tasted but you were sure they were going to stop believing that soon enough, you'd be out of here before it could cause significant damage to your reputation though. You'd turned in your resignation in secret to the head maid so she could start looking for maids who'd be able to replace you, you think she understood why you had to go though she frowned a bit when you told her. Just a few more weeks and you'd be onto another manor.

"You should be grateful I let you do this to me." This was a part of your job you had to admit you would miss, the moment you entered her bedroom you were in charge of her and she had to bow to your every whim, her as your loyal butler, and you as the lady she lived for. Really anyone could play the role, you were sure she was just looking for someone to make her feel degraded and like a servant but you were happy she'd singled you out of this, it eased your annoyance at serving such a unrefined master because at the very least there were some benefits. It was nice getting to sleep in her bed and feel like a noble even if it did cause you some unease because you knew it would end at any moment.

"Yes dearest sunflower, I'm truly lucky I get to know your touch, you're truly a goddess. I'm lucky to be your humble servant." She was always quick to disrobe herself first, she couldn't strip her lady without your permission so you left her to just kneel on the floor in front of you, probably a bit cold. "My lady, may I pleasure you now?"

"As you wish." You laid down on her bed allowing her to do all the heavy lifting of getting you undressed and in position, you really enjoyed this part, getting to feel like a lazy noble woman who forces their servants to do things for them and doe absolutely nothing in return. She was also so desperate for you, part of you did hope she wouldn't be able to enjoy herself with whoever would replace you when you left, or at least not enjoy herself as much as she had with you. It would be a nice thought that would carry you through work for the rest of your life, that a noble was helpless at your feet.

"Thank you my lady, you deserve everything I can give you dearest sunflower, if I could give you all my wealth, I would." You sat up as she caressed your thigh making direct eye contact with you, sure she was acting normal but this did not sound like role play, the way she was talking as ash pressed her fingers inside you was frankly alarming. "So forgive me for this but I can't have the lady I love and serve leaving me." Her teeth grew in size before sinking into your thigh, it should have hurt but instead it felt orgasmic, you weren't even able to focus as she slit her wrist and fed you some of her blood.

"I can't wait to serve you for all eternity, rest now my dearest sunflower." You couldn't ask her what she meant before you passed out.

[butmakeitgayblog]

Jumping in on the CI appreciation. The dynamic is just so fun and deceptively beautiful as messed up as they are. You are a great writer and have a unique way of captivating a reader. Kudos and much success however you choose to pursue your talent! Speaking of… have you written or plan on writing that blowout fight scene (post hospital release) where Lexa draws the proverbial line so to say?

CI fight 😈

///////////////////////

This is the stupidest you've ever felt in your life.

Which is saying a lot, considering the sheer amount of reckless and dumb shit you have done.

But this absolutely takes the cake you decide as your hired nurse wheels you into your lounge room, the sheets already turned back on your couch-turned-makeshift bed and the mountain of your wife's borrowed pillows that are already fluffed to within an inch of their goddamn life.

Your hip kills every time you try to stand on it and your back feels like it'd gone one too many rounds with a baseball bat, and thanks to the four fractured bones in your wrist, you can't even deal with it on your own with the use of a crutch or cane. So instead, you hang on to this fucking stranger and woddle over like a toddler, sweating through all three herculean steps it takes until you can sink down into the godsend that is your new recovery zone.

You wave her off with your good arm once she gets you settled. Tell her you're fine and to stop fucking hovering because you didn't even really need a nurse to move in with you to begin with.

But your wife had insisted and left no room for argument, and well... You're not very good at telling her no when she's upset.

So here the hell you are.

Your grousing is hushed by the sweeter notes of your wife's voice when she comes trailing in behind you with that familiar sharp clicking of her heels.

She apologizes for your lack of manners and tells RN Whats-her-name she can go get settled in the guest room that she'd already showed her - you suppose she must have gotten the grand tour at some point while you were still laid up in the hospital.

Ass out in a gown and perpetually high as a kite.

Not your finest point in life.

Not the lowest either.

At least the drugs made it a good time...

Your temple throbs when your 'guest' excuses herself and snaps the doors shut behind her, making you groan and reach to rub at the bandage taped to the side of your head.

Fingers quicker than yours catch you before you can do any damage.

"Don't," Lexa warns you in a whisper more gently than you had expected, considering she's had to remind you three times already today.

You murmur your sorries and pout because it hurts, but can't help but breathe lighter when she slips into the space between your legs.

Rather than settling in your lap as you'd foolishly hoped for, she perches on the edge of the coffee table instead. She smells so good and her gorgeous face is so serene when she gets comfortable and looks at you dead in the eye.

But then she folds her fingers together and she leans her elbows on her knees, and you already know you're in for some kind of ass chewing.

Fantastic.

She levels you with that 'wife look' she gets. The one that tells you that she means business.

Nobody warned you about that when you'd agreed to this whole 'marriage' thing.

"So," she breathes, only pausing to lick her kissable lips, "Welcome home, Darling."

You snort a laugh through your nose that still hurts where it's swollen but the good drugs kinda help you not care. "Thanks for having me, babe. Nice place you got here," you say in sarcasm-dipped words.

She merely hums and gives you a narrow-eyed grin that feels sexy and distinctly lethal.

"Yes. I've missed you in it. I've missed having you here. With me."

That softens you. Lulls you into a false sense of security.

"I missed you too, baby."

"Good. Then," she says in a quick breath that sounds not unlike ripping off a bandaid. "I wanted you to know that I've taken the liberty of finding a buyer. Well, a few of them, really. All predictably salivating over the collection. But I supposed it'd be appropriate that we talk about the logistics of this before moving forward. I'm open to deferring to your expertise in this field when it came to numbers because, frankly, I'm more than willing to just give the fucking things away. So, we should talk about this."

You smile, because you're an idiot, and you think it's hilarious that she's talking to you like one of her clients. But you also smile because you're a little high off your medicine, and she's really just so pretty, and because not one word of that made any sense.

"What's... 'this'? What're you— Talk about the logistics of what?"

"Selling your cars," she answers with an easy nod, like it absolutely should've been obvious.

The silence that rings through the apartment feels loud in your ears... before you burst out laughing right in her face.

"What?" you choke out and chuckle, because you must've heard that wrong. "What are you talking about?"

"Just what I said, my love." She reaches out boops the tip of your nose with a patronizingly scrunched smile. "You know I don't like repeating myself."

"That's cute, Lexa," you titter and swipe at the hand that's already so far out of reach.

"Oh I'm not kidding, Clarke."

"Okay. And I'm not selling my cars."

"No, actually, you are."

You scoff and use the shoulder that isn't currently trussed up in a sling to push you hair off your neck so you can see her better. Or... something.

Because all you really see is the calm of her smile. Those eyes that are sharp. Hollow. Unyielding. And if you'd looked beyond the swell of anger that suddenly bursts through your chest, you might've seen the whispered-smoke of terror that hid in their depths.

But you do not.

Instead you focus all of your righteous indignation and stubbornness that burns white hot. You give a derisive laugh, and shake your head, and level her with a cold stare of your own.

Making sure she hears your every word, loud and clear.

"No. The fuck. I am not."

It almost feels like victory when her smile falls away.

"Clarke," she says with a deathly click to your name, "I want those deathtraps gone."

"Lexa—"

"I don't care."

"Lexa—"

"Stop saying my name, because whatever comes after it, I promise you, I do not care."

"Well I don't really fucking care either," you spit just to get a rise out of her, "because I'm not doing it, and I don't give shit what you say, Alexandria."

Her jaw ticks to the side as her eyes flash with hellfire.

She hates that name and you know it but right now you just want her to be every bit as angry as you are.

"Okay," she says so quiet you barely hear her over the hammering of your heart as she pushes on her knees to stand up and hovers over you for a moment.

And you think it's a victory because it feels like a victory...

Until it does not.

Because she just nods.

And keeps nodding.

Just this slow up and down of her head, her eyes empty and her face cold, but not in the way that you fell in love with.

This only fills your chest with dread.

So it's a shock when she straddles your hips, planting one knee on each side and sinks down to sit in your lap. Her weight is comforting after your stay in the hospital, if not a little painful in the way it twinges your fucked up leg. But you don't even let yourself flinch because God you've missed this. You've missed her, and her scent, and the way she practically drapes herself over you.

Your good arm wraps around her waist and digs fingertips into the soft dip of her spine, pulling her flush against you. You soak up the flutter of her lashes at the feel of your breasts pressing against hers; the way she fidgets not to grind down like her body's muscle memory is obviously screaming at her to do.

Instead she stares at you through those dark hooded eyes, now so beautifully filled with emotions that make your heart pound out a more pleasant rhythm than before.

"I love you, Clarke," she says. Whispers.

And your breath catches in your chest.

Same as it does each time she says those words, so fleeting and so rare as they are that they pierce straight through the mushiest parts of your heart. Because you know she loves you. You know it in every single thing she does. But there's just... It's just... Nothing will ever rival these moments when she lets them slip out, so unguarded and vulnerable with you.

And really... that should've been a warning.

"And I love you, pretty girl," you whisper right back instead, grinning as she preens under the praise, so lost in her beautiful face you don't even remember there exists a world beyond her.

You watch her throat dip in a thick swallow, her hands smoothing up the length of your neck. She cups your cheeks as her eyes trace every line of your face... as if she were committing this moment to memory.

She shakes her head. Sadly.

"I adore you," she says again, softer still and with more conviction. "Everything. I adore everything about you, Clarke. I love you more than I have ever loved anything in my entire life. And I'm always going to love you, no matter what."

When she kisses you then, in that moment, it's possibly the softest, purest thing you have ever known. She kisses you like it's the only thing she needs in this world and you hope she knows it's the same for you. Because her lips pillow and give under every caress of your lips, and her tongue slipping against yours feels like the only home you've ever known. It's one kiss among thousands you've shared. But you know you'll think of this one for years to come, and honestly if fighting gets you loving like this then you should really make a mental note to call her by her birth name more often...

She breaks the kiss with a sigh, and a shuddering breath against your lips.

"I love you. So, so much... I just want you to always remember that."

You barely have time to blink out of your haze when she extracts herself from your arms and your lap and your lips, and stands up on shakey legs.

She lets out a deep breath and smooths her hands along the front herself, rigidly primping herself free of any creases you might've left.

Her chin rises in that regal arch as she looks down at you and nods once again.

"I'll have our lawyer draw up the divorce papers in the morning."

Your hand snaps out when she turns to leave and catches her shirt cuff before you even have time to think, gritting your teeth to try and bite back the sudden shock of pain that slices up your arm and explodes through your shoulder.

"Wait, what the fuck did you just say?" you practically yelp.

Her icy glare drops to the hand that holds her, jaw flexing as she watches how bad you tremble.

"Let go of me."

"Uh, no—"

"If you don't," she cuts in, enunciating with lethal precision, "I'll have to rip my arm away, and that will hurt you more, and I don't want that. Now stop acting like a child, and let go of me."

You grit your teeth and fist her cuff harder through the cold sweat of pain. "I guess you'll have to hurt me then, because I'm not letting go until you repeat what the hell you just said."

"You heard me perfectly well, my love."

"No, I don't think I did."

"Then you'll figure it out tomorrow, won't you."

You let out a strangled sound and collapse back on the couch - both from the pain and the sheer terror ripping through you. "Lexa, what is this? What are you playing at? Why are you doing this?"

"I'm not playing at anything, I'm telling you that I'm not doing this with you ever again, Clarke," she says in her crisp business voice. "The hospitals. The sitting at your bedside. The wondering if you're ever going to be able to paint again. Watching you limp around for weeks, just to turn around and do it again. I'm done."

You roll your eyes at her dramatics. "Oh my god, are serious? It was just an accident—"

"One that could've killed you."

"It wasn't even my fault."

"That's not the point," she nearly growls, all fire and fangs. "This is your third accident in four fucking years. I can't keep doing this."

"And what exactly is 'this'?"

"Waiting around to lose you!"

Your ears ring at the volume of her shout.

You swallow as she takes a moment collect herself.

Feel the lump grow in your throat as she mindlessly fiddles with the diamond on her finger.

You know it's a habit that calms her when she's feeling particularly out of control. A tick she picked up and never seemed to kick somewhere around the third year you were married.

"I trusted you," she starts again, sounding calmer. Less shaken, but still frayed at the edges. "I told how I feel about you. I told you I wouldn't— Couldn't... survive without you."

"So your solution is to divorce me now?" you scoff. "Tell me, how does that makes sense?"

"Because I have loved exactly two people in my life, Clarke... And this way? At least I won't have to bury one of them."

It's like a bucket of goddamn ice water has just been upturned over your head.

You can't help but stare at her, dumbfounded.

Because you are... so fucking stupid.

Your heart twists and it pounds and for a split second you wonder if you're having a heart attack, or if maybe this is what they mean when they talk about broken heart syndrome. Because nothing has ever hurt this bad. Nothing has ever devastated you as much this tidal wave of guilt. Nothing has ever scared you; made you feel this kind of shame so deep in your bones.

And when she drops her hands like she's given up and turns toward the door, you almost feel like you're going to throw up with the way your stomach clenches in a fresh wave of terrified dread. You want nothing more than to pop up and run over to her and explain and just fix this, but your hip and your leg and you just—You just...

You did this.

You did all of this.

"Okay," you damn near yell, sounding distinctly like a wounded animal to your own ears.

She pulls to a stop and snaps back around, "Okay, what?"

"I said... okay."

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, I'll fucking get rid of them," you bite right back again, desperate and annoyed and shaking so badly it's making your shoulder ache.

She stares at you, placid and unmoved.

"All of them?"

You grit your jaw and blow a breath out. "All of them... The dangerous ones at least."

She clicks her tongue and starts to turn away when you yell—

"You have to compromise with me here!"

She wheels back around with thunder in her eyes and a snarl already twisting her lips.

You know you have never needed to talk faster in your life.

"The ones that aren't street legal, they're gone, okay? Nothing that is actually dangerous stays. But I'm not getting rid of the ones that are perfectly safe, and, Lexa, I'm not getting rid of my grandfather's car. It's the only thing I have from my fucked up family that means anything to me, and it's mine, and it's not fair of you to even consider making me get rid of it."

"You hate that fucking thing—"

"I don't hate it, I love that car! That car changed my life! That car got me you."

You watch the rage bleed out of her as she slumps at the shoulders.

She runs a hand through the controlled chaos of her hair.

"That car did not get you me, Clarke," she strains out in a sigh, sounding tired and beautifully frail. "We're married because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. Because I fell in love with you. Because I'm in love with you."

It makes your heart squeeze tight all over again.

"Maybe, but you wanted that car before you ever wanted me—"

"That is not true," she cuts you off in a hush of a whisper.

She stares at you with eyes clouded with devastation and hurt, and for the life of you, you don't know how to fix it.

You never seem to know how to...

The air between you feels frozen for a long moment before she seems to make up her mind about something all at once.

She shakes her head as she crosses the room in quick, elegant strides and drops to her knees right in front of you.

"Listen to me," she says, and tenderly - so tenderly - takes your least injured hand and folds it into her own. "There are so many things I regret about my life. But making that bet, and losing it, are not included. Half of the reason I ever even wanted that car to begin with was because of how attracted to you I was whenever I saw you in it."

Your scoff is loud enough to give your concussion addled brain another headache. "You are such a liar, Lexa."

Your belly swoops when she flits that damn eyebrow up in challenge.

"While I appreciate your assessment of my moral virtues," she practically purrs, "on this, darling, you happen to be wrong... All that windswept blonde hair? The way you looked like you owned everyone and everything in those shaders that you'd so carelessly slip down before pulling away?"

You wonder if you even still have those sunglasses as she bites her lip and lets her eyes run the length of you.

You'll have to check the next time you can walk properly.

Maybe have them make a reappearance at your next brunch date.

Just for old time's sake.

The hand holding yours squeezes gently.

"You were so damn cocky. The way you'd throw that thing in park and hop out. You'd just toss your keys at the doorman like you didn't care about anything. I hated it so much," she laughs with a rueful grin that slips into something entirely more fond. "And yet I could never seem to make myself stop staring at you, darling."

Even after all these years of marriage, the thought of younger her having wanted younger you...

You shift at the throb that weakly pulses between your thighs.

"So... You made the bet because... you thought I was sexy in my car?"

"I made the bet because I thought you were entirely too full of yourself," she corrects, "which I still believe. But I wanted the car because I'd envisioned getting fucked in it more times than I could count."

God you love it when she gets vulgar.

She reaches up and brushes a curl away from your forehead.

"It just took me a little while longer to realize that the person I had been imagining fucking me was - annoyingly - very much you."

You know your smile is kind of dopey right now rather than the teasing slope that you're aiming for, but later when you look back on this moment, you'll definitely blame it on the drugs.

"So our marriage is based off you wanting me to top you in my grandfather's car?"

Her faces pulls up in distaste. "No. It's based off the fact that you are—"

She pauses and exhales something from deep in her chest, her eyes closing under the weight of whatever it is she's feeling as she finally trembles out,

"That you are everything to me."

You really really really kind of hate that you're injured in that moment, because when she opens her eyes they glisten with a lovely wet sheen. And you just want nothing more than to scoop her up and hold her in your arms. Because it's where she belongs. It's where she's always been meant to be...

"You're everything to me too, baby," you say because she is and she should know it, and you really need to remember to say it more often. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Lexa, I didn't— I didn't mean to..."

She nods when you can't find the words and kisses the bruised ridge of your knuckles.

Rests her forehead there for a moment as though in prayer.

When she looks at you again she's already pulled herself back together.

That's part of why you love her so much.

Always unbreakable.

Except... when it comes to you.

You have no idea what to do with that knowledge, but you know you'd give up anything just to keep it.

And you love her so much that it makes you smile. It makes you smile, because you just want to see her smile at you again. Always.

"Hey," you say, tossing in a lazy wink because you know she hates it. "You totally had a crush on me."

She rolls her eyes. "You're an idiot."

"You had a cuh-ruuuuush on me."

"Clarke. I am married to you—"

"Still," you snort. "Loser."

Her sigh of resignation is so weary it fills your heart close to bursting with how much love you have for this woman.

Because she doesn't fight you on that. Just leans her forehead against yours and nods, kissing your lips soft enough to not make the cut on them bleed again. Her nose brushes against yours in a sweet moment of aching tenderness, and when she pulls back to look at you beneath the fall of her lashes, the whole world is once again nothing but her.

"We'll go through each one together," she says somewhere between a question and a statement.

You nod in agreement, just to be safe.

"Anything remotely questionable, goes."

You heave a sigh but dutifully nod again.

"That means anything without the right mirrors, or proper turning signals. Engines that might blow up for no reason. Anything that was recalled decades ago. Anything with brakes that have a habit of failing... Anything that doesn't have fucking seat belts."

As her list grows you mentally tick off a good two-thirds of your collection.

You glance at her lips and remember how they feel against yours first thing in the morning, and simply nod again.

"Fine. But also? You can't just start threatening divorce every time you want me to do something, you know," you murmur still, because while you're compromising here... you really feel the need to remind her that she's not domesticating you or anything.

She doesn't seem remotely affected by your pout when she just shrugs and grins and leans forward.

You feel distinctly like a puppy on a leash when she pecks a placating kiss to your lips.

And then another to the tip of your nose.

"We'll see."

[kasdan]

Watching Horror Movies Headcanons

masterlist

Pairing: marvel characters x gn!reader

Characters: Frank Castle, Loki, Carol Danvers, Kamala Khan, Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker, Yelena Belova, Matt Murdock, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: characters getting scared, loki and wanda being menaces, mentions of gore

𝑭𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝑪𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒆

Isn’t really a fan of horror movies

Thinks a lot of them are dumb and don’t give off the scary aspect that they’re supposed to

Doesn’t get scared easily, but sometimes jumps at the cheap jumpscares and can’t help but laugh in the aftermath of it when he realizes how cheap the scare was

Lets you know when he thinks something is dumb or questions why it happens

Will go on about how impractical certain things that happen are

Ends up turning into a whole spiel on how none of the movie makes any sense and how it’s supposed to be a so called horror movie

Laughs way more than you probably should when watching a horror movie

Is astonished when you tell him that one of these movies is actually based on a true story

Convinced that they must have changed details from the original story in order to make the movie “more interesting”

Doesn’t go out of his way in order to watch another movie

Lets out a playful groan if you ask him to watch another one with you

Says he needs to be energized for it and has to make a pot of coffee before watching it to get him through it

𝑳𝒐𝒌𝒊

Is curious to what the movie entails but the curiosity quickly turns unamused when he starts to watch a section of the movie

Doesn’t flinch or show any emotion when scares come onto the screen

Thinks the scares aren’t scary and the premise of the movie is dumb

Questions why you would ask him to watch such a ghastly movie

Is the type of person to want everyone in the movie to die, including the killer

Gives you a pointed look when the cheapest and worst jumpscare happens and after the killers origin story is seen and it is not great

Attempts to scare you the same way the movie had try to do by making the same props appear in random places

If you get scared he will tease you relentlessly about jumping at a scare he didn’t think was possible to get scared at

He continues on the scares for a couple days until one time you practically punch him in the face (from the scare of course no other reason) and he decides to stop with everything

You will actually never invite him to watch any kind of horror movie with you again

𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒍 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔

Likes horror movies, but not the ones that have cliche stories and half assed writing

Watches a different variety of horror movies in order to see the differences each of them have from each other

If one is a lot like a different movie she won’t really like it, she likes how movies differentiate from each other so there’s new things to experience

Since she likes the uniqueness in movies, she doesn’t really like the movies that are a part of a series, especially if the series goes on for too long and the concepts in the movies are basically the same

Gets excited when a new horror movie is announced and she can’t wait to watch it and experience it

Is more of a horror movie critic than anything else and will say what she felt about the movie and how they could have made it even better

She doesn’t really jump or get scared at the scares in the movie and more so enjoys the plot of the movie instead

Wants to have you watch different movies that she really enjoys in order to share what she really likes in them to get you to like them too

𝑲𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝑲𝒉𝒂𝒏

Is so scared that she’ll think of various other things that she “needs” to do in order to stall watching the movie

Gets all sorts of snacks and blankets ready before she eventually runs out of stalling tactics and reluctantly goes to sit down to start watching the movie

Ends up with three blankets covering her and half her face under them, only leaving her eyes peeked out from over them

Jumps over every slight movement and noise that she hears, either from the movie or from other things in the room

When the movie gets to a point where it looks like there’s about to be a jumpscare she hides under the blankets and you have to tell her when it’s okay for her to look again

Puts on a bunch of other (not horror) movies and shows on to watch insisting that you guys pull an all nighter, acting like she’s only doing it because it’ll be fun not because she won’t be able to sleep

Has to keep a light on in her room in order to be able to sleep

If you mention watching another horror movie she’ll probably just smile at you with wide eyes and come up with something else to do instead without directly rejecting the idea

𝑩𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝑩𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔

Isn’t the largest fan of the horror genre, but will try it out

Gets a little more triggered if the movie is particularly gory

Doesn’t like if the killer shows like they’re extremely sociopathic with no emotions going around murdering everyone

Would prefer to watch something less gory and a little more cheerful, but will still attempt to watch anything that you’re very excited to watch

Tries to get into the plot of the movie while trying his hardest to block out any blood or triggering scenes for him

Wouldn’t choose to watch a horror movie over a different genre he enjoys more, but he can see why people like to watch them, they’re just not for him

Finds paranormal movies the most interesting since there’s not a human “killer” that’s part of the movie

Learns more about the kind of movies surprising himself by actually finding them interesting, not expecting him to like anything in the kind of genre that much

Doesn’t get that scared of the movies, only jumping when he gets caught off guard at something

𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒓

Has his indifferences with horror movies

On one hand he really likes how certain horror movies are put together

But on the other hand he gets scared easily and has to prepare himself for every horror movie that he watches

Kind of like kamala he has to have many blankets on him while he watches the movie, keeping him comfort for when any of the jumpscares pop up

Distracts himself with a various amount of snacks so he doesn’t have to think much about what is going on on the screen

Whenever a person in the movie makes a dumb decision or is on the verge of doing so he’ll bring the blankets up further and repeat phrases on the line of “don’t go in there, don’t go in there” and “oh my god don’t turn around”

Will reference back to the movie if something happens and he’s reminded of it, purposefully skipping over the parts where he got incredibly scared in

Brushes it off like it’s nothing, but it will actually take a longer time for him to be able to fall asleep at night, every slight noise he’d be jumping up on full alert

He’ll have to tell himself that nothing out of the ordinary is happening and there isn’t a psychopathic murderer after him

𝒀𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒂 𝑩𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒂

Is extremely down to watch a horror movie, thinking it’ll be fun to try

Ends up jumping so high and letting out a swear at the first jumpscare in the movie

Has a look of shock on her face when she’s completely caught off guard at something that happens

You have to make sure she’s not holding anything heavy in her hand so she doesn’t end up throwing it at the tv when she gets scared

You don’t think you’ve ever heard her swear as much in one setting as she does when she watches the movie

Gets aggravated when she keeps falling for the same type of jumpscare and starts to scream at the screen at how they just keep doing the same thing and how dumb it is

Doesn’t really pay attention to the plot of the movie and ends up in a competition with herself on how much she can withstand the jumpscares

She stares at the screen practically unblinking so ready for any jumpscare that’s bound to show up

Jumps up out of her seat in excitement when she doesn’t even flinch at a scare that pops up, acting like she’s beaten a level of a game she’s been stuck on for weeks

𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝑴𝒖𝒓𝒅𝒐𝒄𝒌

You know that he can’t see what’s on the tv, so you don’t really invite him to watch a horror movie, he just kind of joins you himself

You’ll be cuddled up on the couch watching a scary movie and matt will hear your heartbeat pick up and go to check on you

When you tell him you’re just watching a scary movie he’ll ask to join you and take a seat next to you

He can’t see the jumpscares coming and finds it amusing when you jump next to him

However if there’s a particularly loud part that comes out of nowhere he will get slightly startled by it

You tell him what’s happening when there’s no dialogue and you both end up making fun of what different characters are doing

“Wait why is she going into the shed? Shouldn’t she be trying to find a way out of there?”

He ends up having a good time even though he can’t see what’s happening on the screen and it becomes a tradition for you two to watch different horror movies just to see how the survivors attempt to stay alive in the dumbest ways

𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟

Actually really likes horror movies, especially very suspenseful scenes and the adrenaline rush she gets when she watches them

Watches them for fun on her down time

Is excited when Halloween draws closer and a lot of people start to watch more horror movies

Will drag you to a movie theater to watch a horror movie

She likes seeing the scares on such a big screen, and how tense the room gets as everyone awaits for a jumpscare that they know is coming

Is a fan of some the classics and the effect they have on her

Doesn’t like to rewatch a horror movie that she’s seen before

Knowing when the scares are going to happen takes the suspense out of it for her so she’ll only rewatch a movie that she hasn’t seen in a while and she doesn’t exactly remember all the things that happen

𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟

Would use the horror movie as an excuse to get close to you

The scares of the movie don’t really phase her, but if she does get scared she’ll laugh and play it off like it’s not a big deal

Finds it amusing when you jump or get scared at different parts

Will get a ton of blankets and pillows for you two to get the most comfortable with

Makes multiple attempts to try and scare you when the movie gets to a slow and quiet point

She’ll grip your shoulder suddenly and let out a scream in an attempt to try and get you to jump

If she succeeds she’ll end up laughing so hard, apologizing between the laughs but you know she doesn’t mean it

When she successfully does it three times during the movie you threaten to not watch any more movies with her in the future which makes her quickly apologize and say that she’ll stop and behave for the rest of the night

All in all she has a fun time watching scary movies, even if it isn’t fully the movie that has her in an excitable mood, and she enjoys getting to be able to spend time with you no matter what you’re doing

all photos used were found on pinterest ❤️

buy me a coffee ♡

[paragonraptors]

YEHAW DA:V REVEAL THOUGHTS BELOW!!

Overall: Feeling so excited for this game. I'm climbing up the walls. I can't believe that was 20 minutes, it felt like 10. Need this in my hands yesterday.

What I liked:

-Holy fuck wow wow wow the hair looks like nothing I've seen in a video game before.

-Combat seems very different but also a natural progression of gameplay past. Real-time turn-based was always a little on the clunkier side, and while it never really bothered me, moving towards something more ME-style was expected. Very excited about being able to aim a bow. Would like to know what difficulty they were showcasing bc I'm considering jumping right into a Nightmare run.

-Now that I've been soulsborne-pilled the prospect of a parry mechanic has me buzzing.

-I feel like people are gonna dunk on the "stiffer" animation, but I prefer it so much more than the BG3/HZD constant wobbling. It'll make the key performances stand out instead of mostly jangling keys in front of a baby and letting the big moments get lost in the sauce. (Not that the aformentioned games didn't have good animation, just. If your characters don't need to move their whole body to convey dialogue I'd prefer if they didn't.)

-The sublety in the facial animations is CRAZY.

-The roleplay dialogue seems really reactive!! And the cuts to inject the unique dialogues feels smooth. I'm sure there will still be moments where it's easy to tell, but still cool. Seems like they're gonna be paying more attention to your personality type like DA2 too.

-So excited about Harding and Neve as companions and can't wait to meet everyone else.

-Neve's staff/wand makes me excited to see what kinds of focus options we'll get as a mage AAAA.

-God the costumes have so much swag. One of my hottest of many BG3 takes was that the costumes were overall flavorless. (Really hoping they didn't change the Grey Warden uniforms though that would really disappoint me.)

-Cinematography looks fantastic. Lots of well set up shots.

-NGL I felt something when Solas showed up. Wasn't expecting that. And while not perfect, I liked his interaction with Varric. Their relationship from Inquisition really slips under the radar if you're not bothering to look.

-Varric has never gotten over the trauma of what happened with Anders and it breaks my heart in a good way. God you could see it in his eyes!! [chef's kiss]

-However, I definitely have to kill Solas now for what transpired in this preview.

What I'm iffy about:

-The voice peformances feel a bit stilted. Not really what I'm used to from Bioware and I feel like it's important when the animations are more subdued. Hopefully this feeling will change when I get more of the game.

-The dialogue also felt a bit dumbed down. "Solas is doing his ritual!" "Yes. Solas' ritual. The ritual that we have to stop." Again, hopefully this is symptomatic of a tutorial level/trying to onboard newbies quickly and not the whole game lol. While I prefer this to dialogue that tries to sound smarter than it is, I'm really hoping we see an overall improvement from Inquisition.

-Sort of wish they went with the Andromeda dialogue system instead of bringing back Inquisition's, but I do like that it seems all dialogue options are getting tonal indicators again and they're not as easily conflated with morality. (Though I imagine people will STILL interpret it that way.)

-A little confused about them introducting Minrathous' panopticon shit and then immediately swerving into Solas' ritual. Would have liked some breathing room on that kind of worldbuilding.

- While I'm generally open minded about the change, I Do Not Love not being able to switch to playing companions. Might turn around on this if your ability to issue them commands opens up the closer you are to them/the more you grow into a leadership role. I do like that it seems you will eventually be able to command when they use abilities a la OG Mass Effect bc that was my biggest beef with the Andromeda gameplay, esp on Nightmare/Insanity difficulty.

-Not crazy about the new Pride demon design where are their leggies.

-Not really a Criticism, but they are definitely setting up for Varric to die and while I get it, narratively, I'm NOT HAPPY. Dragon Age has been almost allergic to scripted deaths so it's also gonna feel like being dunked in an ice bath. EVIL STUFF. IN DENIAL.

[nickfowlerrr]

know my name - 3

GIF by buckybarnesj

series masterlist

pairing: soft!dark bucky barnes x single mom!reader

warnings: angst city!! actually made myself so sad with this part lol. sorry 🥲

words: 1.3k

notes: another short little chapter. i’m glad everyone is enjoying this so far! can’t wait to get more into her and bucky soon. thank you for reading and as always, feedback and comments are welcome and appreciated! 🩵

Your eyelids are heavy as you sit in the rocking chair that Steve had made for you, rocking James as his own finally begin to flutter shut. You don’t stop your slow, gentle motion as you let yourself relax even further into the chair.

It’s been a long day. From work to the bank to the store to the phone call with your mom on your way home. You’re exhausted.

And as you sit here, guilt starts to nip at you for how short you were with her. It’s not her fault, she’s just trying to help and make sure you and James are okay, you know that, but still the constant questioning is just too much.

It can get annoying and you’ve been growing more and more frustrated lately. Not just with her, but all of it.

It isn’t fair.

You never wanted to do this alone.

You slowly rise from your seat and walk over to lay a now fully sleeping James down for the night. You turn on the baby camera and move to get the light, but pause first, instead moving back closer to admire his little face once more as a sad smile creeps on yours.

God, he looks so much like him. You just wish he was here to see that.

Tears well in your eyes at the thought.

It isn’t fair.

You’ve been missing him for longer than you’d even known him.

You can’t help it as the anger starts to swell within you. You slip away with one last look to the baby before you head to your own room to finally get ready for bed.

It’s not fair.

You met Steve very randomly. And you weren’t someone who gave their number out to strangers often - if ever, but there was something about him. A kindred kind of spirit between you, like you had something unique in common- you couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but it was there. He bumped into you and apologized by getting you a new drink and lunch. He was kind and genuine and undeniably handsome. You hadn’t even realized he was the Captain America until a few months into getting to know him. You never kept up with that kind of stuff, the heroes and all that…

You’d been friends for six months before he finally asked you on an official date, which you easily agreed to. Then came the three months of dating. He wasn’t officially your boyfriend, you weren’t his girlfriend, just dating each other.

Until one night.

The night that would change your life forever.

You were at Steve’s apartment, he had made you dinner and set up his place with candles and flowers and had soft jazz sounding from his record player.

It was sweet, and romantic, and intimate.

After dessert, he finally asked you what you had been hoping he’d ask for the last three months.

“I would be honored to ‘go steady’ with you, Steve,” you had laughed as his face lit up.

He practically shot from his seat and lifted you effortlessly from yours as he hugged you. You giggled as he kissed your cheek before you gently took his face in your hands and kissed him just as softly.

One thing slowly lead to another and before you knew it, you were undressed and under him in his bed. He was gentle with you, he saw your scars but didn’t push at your avoidance of the ‘how’s, just held you, took care of you, and made sure you came first each and every round. That man was insatiable and you were still full of him the next morning. And incredibly sore - in the best way.

It’s no surprise really, how that night was the night it happened. You were dumb and horny and caught up entirely in the pleasure Steve gave that it didn’t cross your mind for one second to worry about protection.

So, ten months after first meeting Steve that fateful day, you came face to face with a positive pregnancy test in the cramped little bathroom of your apartment. You were scared and worried. You didn’t know what to do, but you had to tell him.

The reaction you got was not one you had anticipated.

“What?” you had sputtered, “Look, Steve, it’s not the 1940’s, you don’t - you don’t have to marry me,”

“I know that,” he assured you, taking your hand in his, “but it’ll make things easier, won’t it? Insurance and all that? I’m fully covered and you would be, too. And…” he looked down at your hand in his, squeezing gently, “and honestly,” blue green eyes met yours once more, “I really do want to marry you. I love you. And I know it’s soon, but it’s true. I do.”

A week and a quick trip to the courthouse later, you were officially Mrs. Steven Grant Rogers. It wasn’t a big affair, wasn’t much of an affair at all, not for anyone but you two.

Your wedding gift from your husband wasn’t a honeymoon, but a home. One month and one week after you were married, you were moved into the house and setting up the baby’s room.

Everything was moving so fast, but you didn’t feel pressured or nervous. With Steve beside you, everything felt like it was happening just the way it was supposed to.

Until, of course, it wasn’t.

Just two weeks, he had promised. A quick mission away and then he’d be back and done with all the fighting. You didn’t want him to go, but you knew he had to.

The night before he left, you laid in bed, talking about baby names and what colors to paint the nursery.

“James,” he spoke quietly as he held you close, a big palm on your tummy as you laid your head on his shoulder.

“James?”

“Yeah,” he said, turning his gaze to meet your eye, “If it’s a boy. It’s my best friend’s name,” he smiled to himself, “it’s a good name.”

“James,” you said again, testing it on your tongue, “I think I like it,” you mused. “…So, will I ever meet this James?”

He paused, tensed up ever so slightly before he sighed heavily, “I hope so. He’s…he’s away right now. Medical stuff,” he tried to brush off, “but he’ll be himself again soon. You’ll meet him,” he nodded with a soft smile.

You returned it, until you felt his gaze fall to your exposed torso. More specifically, to the scar that blemished the area. “Are you ever gonna tell me about that?”

You put your hand on his and avoided his eye for a long moment before finally biting the bullet to meet his gaze. “One day,” you whispered. “I will,” you promised, “but just…not tonight,” you told him.

“Okay,” he agreed, placing a kiss to your cheek and pulling you closer to him in the dimly lit room. You snuggled into him and he leaned over to get the light. “I gotta leave early tomorrow, ya know.”

“Yeah,” you murmured sleepily. “I’ll make you breakfast.” He chuckled as he rubbed your side.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night, love.”

You both woke up early the next morning, you made him breakfast and saw him off with your “Be safe, I love you”s. It was sweet and quick as ever. You started missing him the moment he was gone. And you’ve been missing him ever since.

That was the last time you saw him.

It wasn’t fair.

It’s not fair.

You look at yourself in the mirror of your bathroom, your body damp from the shower you just got out of. You can’t help but stare at the scars. You gingerly trace the most prominent one on your torso.

The one with the story Steve will never know about.

But maybe that’s a good thing.

It’s not a story you tell anyone, and it’s still hard to this day to even think about.

The blood.

The pain.

The fear.

The confusion.

You can still hear his voice some nights in your dreams.

“You’ll be okay,” he had said, his voice thick with a Russian accent that sounded misplaced somehow, “I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

A chill shoots through you. Your gaze darts back up your body as you meet your eye in the mirror.

You can still see him some nights, a figment of your imagination, you’re sure. But still all too real.

The all black military like uniform, the dark heavy boots, the red star, the metal arm.

The man in the mask.

[comicaurora]

Earth's Mightiest Heroes is just such a goldmine in the Marvel adaptations; especially if you like Hulk as much as I do it's such an ideal interpretation and strikes the ideal balance between the ambiguity between him being a hero or a monster (he can't be TOO straightforwardly heroic or he loses a lot of what makes him compelling, but Hulk shouldn't be malevolent or mindless and MUST be a hero in some way) that I don't think has been properly captured since Planet Hulk or Immortal Hulk. Maybe Thor Ragnarok if you look at the subtext around him.

One thing I consider is that EMH specifically seems to take the earliest characterizations of the Marvel heroes, without being too influenced by the MCU (which if I recall was only just starting out then, enough to influence things but not so much that it completely dominated the characterization) and reinvents this earlier characterizations, making something rather new and unique to this series, so you get things such as Wasp (who is one of the most liked takes on the character here) and as noted, Hulk. Much like the Devil Hulk alter from Immortal Hulk, in this series his characterization here reads as a reinterpretation of his initial characterization as a smarter and unpredictable entity driven by his resentfulness.

Hulk is done so well! I feel like part of why season 2's writing suffers overall is that they had to put him on a shelf for the entire Secret Invasion plot.

What I also like about it is how Banner is incorporated into the story. Bruce Banner is a lot more unconditionally heroic than The Hulk, and that's shown right from the jump when he essentially makes a heroic sacrifice by agreeing to let The Hulk stay transformed indefinitely in exchange for him helping the others fight Graviton. Hell, when Hulk gets briefly mind controlled by the Enchantress, the person we see doing the standard Heroic Willpower Fighting From The Inside stuff is Banner. Banner's appearances are a rare treat after the opener, because he's characterized perfectly - brilliant, businesslike since he's always on a clock, and completely up to speed on everything the others have been up to. And it's also kind of fun how the other Avengers are always quite protective of Banner on the rare occasions he gets forced out mid-fight.

And I like how it's clear that Hulk and Banner communicate more than we get to see. There's Banner knowing exactly how to stop the Gamma World plot even though he hasn't had Using The Body Privileges in weeks, and later there's a cute moment where Tony is trying to analyze some mysterious energy and Hulk just immediately IDs it while noshing on a turkey leg. Banner isn't useless or mired in angst, and Hulk isn't dumb. It really feels like they've long since stopped trying to fight each other and have accepted that they're on the same side, and that's a nice change for Hulk storylines!

Also Hulk's friendships with Wasp and Hawkeye are just. Absolute highlights. The dynamics are so good.

[sky-kiss]

For the prompts: I’ve been thinking non-stop about your professor/barista au and would LOVE to see the date/the aftermath of said date 👀

A/N: Dude, I’m so glad to hear people like this dumb universe. Have a second prompt coming in for the same verse later. 

_____

Raphael x Tav: You Cannot Invite Her to Italy Yet, My Guy

_____

The temperature has dropped low enough to warrant a coat when they leave the restaurant. Tav shoves her hands into her pockets, turning her face up to feel the breeze on her skin. It’s fresh in a way you rarely experience in the city. Her head is pleasantly swimmy off good wine, food, and better company. 

Tav smiles to herself. Raphael lingers on her left. The wine has left a flush of color in his naturally tanned cheeks. She reaches out without thinking to adjust the hang of his scarf. He stiffens momentarily before relaxing, allowing her to smooth nonexistent wrinkles from the lapel of his jacket. “Well, I’d call that a successful first outing.”

“How gratifying to hear. Haarlep would never have let me live it down otherwise.” He holds out his arm. “Come, the night is young.”

“Oooh, a secondary location. I am doing well.” She tucks her hand in the crook of his elbow. 

“Exceeding all expectations, my dear, I assure you.” He sighs, angling down the street. She relaxes, hugging her guide's arm to her chest. Heat radiates through his jacket, much needed. The material smells pleasantly of him, a touch of spicy bleeding into the cherries and musk. A little creepy to go around smelling your date, but she won't apologize. Most men didn’t smell half as nice. Raphael continues, his movements and voice looser. He’s in his element, rarely liquid; it’s charming. “You read, you brew, you’re well-spoken…what more could I ask?” 

Tav snickers. “My, I’m uniquely qualified.” 

He tips her a wink. “Almost as if we were made for one another” 

It’s a terrible line. Raphael is attractive enough to make it work. Tav rolls her eyes, shrugging under his arm and dragging it over her shoulders. If he’s going to make his moves, she'll try hers. The barista winds her arms around his waist. “Look at that. We fit, too.” 

He stiffens, staring at her in a mix of amusement and wonder. It’s too open for the typically confident man. Tav fears she overstepped. Raphael chuckles, bringing her free hand to his lips for a kiss. “Wonders never cease.”

They wander for a while. He angles them towards a park. They talk about books they’ve read and the places they have traveled. Tav has never been to Italy. Raphael spent a decent portion of his childhood on the Mediterranean coast. 

“Do you get back often?” 

“Less than I’d like. But I am always looking for a new excuse to visit.” He glances down at her, eyes glittering. “In the dark heart of winter, Italy, Spain…they seem like a dream.” Raphael purses his lips. A real mischief crosses his face. “If you require a guide one day…” 

Oh, she shouldn’t. It’s the magic of the evening; it’s the chemistry and the company. She can't stop from saying, “I’d like that.”

They walk a little longer. When it comes time to part, Tav lingers by the door, chewing her lip between her teeth. It’s too early in the relationship, but she’s still chasing the high. “You could come up?”

Raphael chuckles. The professor leans over her, curling a finger under her chin, tipping her head up. He brushes his lips across hers, more delicate than she’d like, still tasting the rich cabernet they had with dinner. “Expectation will make such things all the sweeter, pet. Perhaps next time.” He kisses her knuckles and turns to go. 

Tav just stares after him like a love-sick idiot: a little disappointed and a little giddy. 

Before she drifts off to sleep, she sends him a text. Dinner, Saturday. There is a tapas bar near her apartment, and it only seems fair to continue their faux Mediterranean tour. 

She hates that his response makes her blush: he is, as ever, delighted to serve as her guide. 

[weepingflowerbonkcop]

What the Chain thinks about a Modern! Reader using slang/meme references:

Part 3

Legend

• He didn't know what Modern! Reader was saying either when they first met. He had a blue screen moment and just pretended that reader was talking to air or something. No thoughts just vibes moment.

• Despite having some slight difficulty at the start, he does catch up to what reader is saying.

• He doesn't really care all that much for the slang, but he does find the more creative insults and cursing from Modern! Readers world interesting.

• He doesn't use modern slang as much as Wild or Hyrule, but he does use it when he deems it worthy enough.

• He's also another one to translate to Time and Twilight about the terms.

• He also has his gremlin streak where he goes and teaches the older lot the wrong meanings of the terms, but he's more casual about it. He incourages Wild and Wind the most. He'll stay perfectly quiet when he hears Wild/Wind give the wrong translation too.

• Like staded previously, Warriors and him make bets on Time when it comes to readers slang. It doesn't just stop there, if Warriors has enough rupees they make bets on anyone that genuinely has a hard time catching what reader says.

• Now I don't see him as a fan of the meme references either. He probably thinks that people in Modern! Reader's world have really broken humour or that they're just dumb.

• He's the one to face palm in the background whenever Wild and Hyrule try to recreate/make their own memes.

• Some memes he actually relates to. It's more on the darker side of the genre though as well as being an adult and hating adulting.

• I'd give this prickly little man a 7/10. He should join Wild and Hyrule in their shenanigans to complete triple threat. It would've bumped him up to an 8.5 or 9/10.

Four

• I can see Four being the third quickest to learn and understand Modern! Reader's slang.

• Him hogging the braincells of the Chain, he successfully uses it to disect the sentence and figure out what the new/interesting word means.

• He does, however not share this information for his own amusement.

• Having him hangout with Wind the most, they tend to use Modern! Reader's slang in their casual conversations to spite the old people.

• The colours however see it differently, I'll elaborate.

• Red is infatuated with the modern day language. He finds it interesting and unique as it creates a more casual and comforting atmosphere when Modern! Reader talks. He definitely looks at reader with sparkles in his eyes.

•  Blue kinda side eyes the new slang for a while before he gives in to the others interest in it. He finds it to be a more challenging when Modern! Reader uses too much in one sentence. It's silly to him that people have become lazy enough to just decide to shorten words as a whole. But he does appreciate the flow of how it sounds.

•  Green had a mild reaction to slang than most of the others. He does feel the same sentiment about the casual atmosphere that it creates but he finds it more cute in a way.

•  Vio caught interest the first time a slang word slipped from Modern! Reader's mouth. He would be the one to analyse and break down what reader says before restructuring it to make sense to them. It's like a guilty pleasure for him to do it, gives his mind a little bit of work to do.

• Four thoroughly enjoys the memes from readers world. His favourites are those that start arguments amongst the Chain. The flat earther memes.

• Four would be a 9/10 he's open minded to diversity and encourages it.

Wind

• Wind has everyone beat with how quickly he learned Modern! Reader's slang.

• Since he's still pretty young his mind still absorbs new information ten times faster than everyone else. So, I believe he'd be the quickest to learn and adapt to the way reader talks.

• He doesn't want reader to feel alienated in the group and tries to make it comfortable for them by learning things from the modern day. (My sweet baby)

• It quickly becomes a habit for him to use slang when talking, not just with reader, but with everyone else. He doesn't care if they don't understand and he'll even use it to his advantage.

• He called Time a boomer without facing any repercussions.

• Baby boy baby was surprised when Modern! Reader called him that and he was the first to ask about it. After readers explanation that its a meme from their world, Wind decides its time to learn every meme reference that reader knows and to use it to antagonise the old man.

• Wind jumps to every opportunity to make a meme reference once he's enlightened about them.

• Wind would be everyone's main person to translate - emphasis on the would be. But he gets carried away with his translations of the slang.

• Overall I'd say that he also a 9/10.

[scekrex]

It's me, yes it's me! I know you were all waiting for me! :DD

Yes, yes, it's an another crack fic, yippeecayay, mfers 🤠 Adam and reader arguing about something, might be something stupid or something serious, obviously they still love each other but both of them are insanely stubborn so neither wants to admit they are wrong. The reader goes to cool off, he meets up with a friend and start to just vent his frustration to them when lo and behold, Adam shows up to... Well "apologise" in his own unique way and it's basically him just seeing the location where reader is (They're sharing their locations, Adam's heart cannot handle anymore stress with reader going missing even if for a few minutes), showing up with his badass axe guitar and strumming it, going "I love you bitch... I ain't ever gon' stop loving you... Biiitch", reader's friend just looks at him with the biggest "Really? You actually LOVE him?" and reader just looks back at them with the goofiest grin: "We'll, he's dumb and overly stupid, but he's my dumb and overly stupid man" shrugging his shoulders and goes to Adam to kiss him, just to then smack him and then kiss him again 👀

Babes, I once again have to say that I love your crack prompts, at this point these r the air that keeps me alive bc holy fuck they make me laugh every fucking time.

Do you even

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, fighting (not physically but verbally), slightly cracky

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

“Adam, just shut the fuck up for a second, would you?” you exclaimed harshly as you massaged your temples in order to try and keep calm.

He had been ranting about his bitchy band mate who had ditched him last minute before an important gig and you had enough of it. Ever since the both of you had woken up in the morning all Adam had been talking about was ‘how fucking done he is with that bastard’ and ‘how fucking dare that whore to ditch him last minute because he was the fucking Adam and the fucking Adam wasn't someone you'd ditch to fuck some random - and ugly, his words not yours - bbl bitch'. “Just shut the fuck up for a couple seconds okay? I get it, that fucker ditched ya, it was shitty of him, but for the love of God, stop acting like a motherfucking child and get the fuck over it.”

The brunette's hands were on his hips as he shot you a venomous look, “Well, if you would care you wouldn't mind me bitching about something that meant a whole fucking lot to me.” You couldn't help the huff that escaped you as you closed the gap between the both of you, your index finger aggressively tapping his chest as you looked up at him. Because what the actual fuck? You cared, you cared a lot and usually you didn't mind it when he was bitching about something, but you've had a headache all day and Adam wasn't being helpful with his constant talking. You couldn't even bring yourself to feel sorry for snapping at him, you had told him that you weren't feeling well today and yet he had strictly ignored that just for his own benefit. “You know what? Fuck you, Adam. You can suck my fucking dick for saying that. I fucking care, okay? Any ordinary bitch would've left you by now but I fucking didn't because I love you, for heaven's sake. So quit the motherfucking attitude already,” there was truly no way for you to swallow all the anger that was seething inside of you and you really couldn't care less. “I’m out of here, fucking call me when you decided to quit acting like a goddamn manchild,” and with that you grabbed your phones and keys and rushed out the apartment.

Once the door was shut you broke down entirely. Yes, you and Adam had different options on some things, nothing major though, but fighting like that? That was a thing that had never happened before, not when you started dating and especially not after you married him. Fighting with Adam felt exhausting, you hated how your heart hurt - it almost felt like physical pain. So you did the only logical thing and unlocked your phone to call your best friend.

Arlo was someone you could always count on and that was proven one more time when the man had pulled up to the park in no time - that's where you had asked him to meet you - and he came in company of milkshakes. He handed you the cup as he sat down on the bench next to you. “So, you finally figured out that Adam is a huge bitch huh?” that earned Arlo a glare. Yes, you were mad at your husband, but that was no reason to insult the man you loved so dearly. “Quit it, I'm not breaking up with him because of one single fight,” you mumbled as you took a sip of your milkshake, realizing Arlo had managed to get you your favorite flavor. That brightened the mood at least a little. “Look Y/N, I'm all for love ‘n’ shit, but Adam, seriously? I mean you of all people should know how big his ego is and he just proved this by ignoring your well-being,” the blonde continued to rant about your husband and while Adam's ego was huge, his love for you was bigger.

He didn't let outsiders notice the ways he looked at you during gigs, he made it seem casual when his wing wrapped around your shoulder when you two walked through the streets like it was a thing people casually did - they didn't. Touching the wings of another angel, let alone use your wings to shield someone was a big deal due to the wings being hypersensitive. He always remembered what you liked and what you disliked, no matter what you were talking about. He knew and respected a lot of things when it came to you, things he didn't even tolerate when it came to others. He loved you and while for strangers eyes it wasn't visible, it was everything to you.

“Arlo, I didn't fucking call you so that you can tell me what a shitty husband I have, he loves me and I love him, he cares and just because we had one fight in six thousand years won't make me throw this relationship away so you either shut it or you leave, that's up to you,” you snapped at the blonde angel next to you and it seemed to do the job because Arlo closed his lips around the straw of his own milkshake and seemingly swallowed all the hatred he hold for Adam. You knew Arlo was trying to cheer you up, but he was doing a shitty job at that. Down talking your husband wasn't something you would let slide wordlessly. Because when Adam wanted, he was very much able and willing to serve you the world on a golden platter. He had risked a lot for you already and you were aware he would do it all again.

-

In the meantime Adam was still at your apartment. The second you had slammed the door shut behind you he realized how badly he had fucked up. There had always been different options on certain things, that was fine though. Usually you guys were able to talk it out and find a solution that made both of you happy, you never had a fucking fight in over six thousand years and now the fight had been intense enough to result in you leaving.

He had fucked up badly and he knew it.

But he couldn't just wait for you to come back. In the name of the almighty lord above, Adam wasn't even sure if you'd come home for the night. What if you were to stay with a friend until tomorrow, maybe even longer? No, he needed to solve this now. So he did the first thing that came to his mind and checked your location.

When you two had just started dating he had been losing you a lot, mainly because whenever you saw something that you liked or that you thought he might like you were running off to get that thing. So the two of you had agreed to constantly share your location with each other and ever since then that had never changed, these days it was a simple habit. The little icon on the map was pinned on the park. Good, that wasn't too far.

So the man grabbed his guitar and left to apologize.

-

Arlo’s eyes scanned the park for a moment, then he groaned quietly, “Speaking of the devil.” You turned your head to look over to where your blonde homie was looking at and couldn't help but roll your eyes.

Adam was walking straight towards you.

He had his guitar in his hand as he confidently walked across the park just to stop in front of the bench you and Arlo were sitting on. You weren't the only one annoyed by Adam's presence, the blonde angel next to you was just as pleased to see the leader of the exorcists as you were and he let Adam feel that they didn't want him there. “The fuck you think you're doing?” Arlo hissed at the brunette who was simply ignoring that they were even there. He sighed as you looked at you, something in his mimic told you he was sorry but you weren't able to see the guilt in his eyes due to his stupid mask. Fuck, he really couldn't leave that thing at home for just one day, could he?

Adam adjusted the guitar in his hands, made sure his fingers were placed on the right strings and then he started to play a kinda shitty sounding tune - knowing Adam it was shitty on purpose, there was no way he'd accidentally play bad. “I love you, bitch,” he spoke the words more than he sang them but it definitely made your lips twitch up in a grin. Arlo shot you a critical look, they were having none of it. “I ain't ever gon’ stop loving you,” there was a pause, then he finished, “Bitch.”

And that made you full on chuckle, the glimpse of hope that was suddenly visible through Adam's expression showed you that he knew he had fucked up, that he was sorry. And maybe he would apologize properly once the two of you were back at your apartment. “You’re not gonna simply forgive him with that sad excuse of an apology, right?” Arlo asked in shock as you got up and took a step forward to be able to wrap your arms around the first man's waist. “You ain't ever gonna stop loving me, huh?” you asked teasingly as your finger poked him in his side which made him flinch a little. “Dude, Y/N, he fucking overstepped boundaries and you just gonna forget and forgive because he pulled out his shitty guitar and played two chords?” Arlo complained and stepped up to the both of you, they seemed genuinely furious about it. “The fuck’s your problem man, this ain't your fight, this is our thing to deal with,” the brunette growled at them but they didn't care. To be honest, they never cared about anything Adam said or did to them, no matter if it was something positive or negative. “You’re seriously telling me you love that guy?”

You weren't giving Arlo the satisfaction of attention, instead you pulled Adam's mask up so that the LED face was resting on top of his head and the horns of it were near his neck. “I want a proper apology once we get home, if I don't get that, I'll find some other place to crash at for the night, am I clear?” you explained how it would go, all the playfulness was gone, there wasn't a smirk on your lips anymore and your eyes told Adam that you were serious about it, “And then I'd like to talk it out so that we can find a solution in case that shit should ever happen again.” The leader of the exorcists was quick to nod, followed by a loud and clear, “Yes, sir.” And for the moment that was enough. Enough to lean in and kiss him. Adam melted against your lips immediately, a small moan managed to slip past his lips. But the kiss ended as abrupt as it had started and Adam felt your hand on the back of his head, the mask caught most of the hit but he still felt it, “You fucking idiot.” That made said idiot grin one of his stupidly cocky grins, “Maybe, but at least I'm your idiot.” This time it was him who started the kiss, his wing quickly came up to block the view for Arlo, who was watching the two of you a little too intensive for Adam's liking.