#that smile lays me flat on the ground every time it is So Much

[pythonmoth]

cw: post torture trauma. depersonalization. denial. sick jokes as a coping mechanism.

simon riley x f!reader. soap x f!reader if you squint.

Part one | Last | Next

Numb. And cold.

The light in the room is cold and white, devoid of any type of warmth.

Laying flat on the bed, you're barely blinking, your expression is detached, and unreadable.

Your body got so used to the torture that every time a medic moves too fast, you mentally brace yourself for a hit or for another toenail to be ripped off, not moving a muscle.

You've three toenails left, after all. Another three chances of pain.

Perhaps they could cut your fingers off, instead. Or your ears.

That'd be new.

Your eyes are fixed on the light bulb above your head, dimly aware of the medics moving around you as if you were in a simulation game. You hear them curse under their breath, sharing looks, and throwing worried glances at you.

At times, it feels like you're watching yourself on that table. You're the light bulb.

It needs fixing.

The medics have already tended to your feet and toes, your fingers, and deep down you can't help but find it hilarious that, despite the drugs they gave you for the pain, your raw fingers throb bad enough for you to remember it perfectly.

You will never forget the pain.

Or perhaps you've already forgotten.

Images of Si Ghost, a hidden smirk behind the mask, ripping your nails off and showing them to you before throwing them to the side, laughing at you with Soap, and Price, fill your mind. Your past screams break through the image, your fingers twitching briefly.

Is it a memory?

You grimace inwardly.

You're not sure.

Perhaps it is. Or not.

As you're held up by two medics and put to sleep on another bed, drugged out of your mind, you stop worrying about it.

You're mistaken. Surely. Must be.

There's no way it was actually Simon; you're just going crazy. He will come and tuck you to bed as he always does. He'll bring Johnny tomorrow and the three of you will have some of the cookies Johnny keeps hidden in his room, safe from the Captain and the rest, the hungry lot. And they'll have the beer Simon bought the other day. And then Simon will give you a goodnight kiss.

There's no way.

Must be a mistake. Your mind is playing tricks.

Disdain. Laughter. Curses.

"Traitor".

No matter how hard you fight it, your eyes fall shut. With a soft sigh, you smile, amused at yourself. The blanket is soft against your cheeks, your mind spinning happily as exhaustion takes over.

You're mistaken.

"The pinky is next. You're still not giving me names".

You will just sleep it off.

"Please, give me their names. Please".

Nightmares.

As you wake up in cold sweat, hastily standing up from the bed, you put pressure on your cut feet with no care, and it makes you let out a sharp cry. Shocked to your core, you fall down on your knees, screaming in pain again when your hands brace your fall, making the raw skin of your fingertips stretch and burn.

You're suddenly aware of your injuries.

Memories rush to your mind. And they're real.

They're very real.

When the door springs open and you see Si Ghost rushing over to you, his eyes tormented behind the mask, you ignore the pain in your body and quickly crawl back, dragging yourself away from him, not hiding the fear in your expression.

You can't hide it, even if you wanted to.

"No, wait. Please. Please. You're okay" he says, lowering himself to the ground in a heartbeat, his knees touching the cold floor, keeping as much distance between the two of you as possible.

You don't realize you're crying until you taste it in your lips and, even then, you don't even dare breathing. You're not blinking, staring at Ghost in complete silence.

Funny. Crying will forever remind you of it.

"Please, you're safe. You're okay" he assures you, his voice rough and shaky. Ghost shifts forward slowly, but the tension in your shoulders makes him pause.

"I won't touch you. I promise" Ghost murmurs, keeping his hands on his thighs, in full display. "W-we were tricked. A mole planted evidence against you, but we found him a few days ago when we brought you here. I'm so—"

You burst out laughing.

"You're sorry" you crackle. "You're sorry".

"I won't give you any excuses. Price told me he was certain, and I— I had to do my job. Please—"

"Stay away from me".

"Please. I didn't want to do it. I'm so sorry" he pleads, his hands flat against the ground. "I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Johnny and I. You won't forgive us and we know this. Lovie, please".

Your laughter turns into sobs the longer he speaks. Lovie. It sounds so ridiculous right now that even if you're terrified of him you wish you had the strength to strangle him.

Alas, the lack of fingernails makes it difficult.

You press yourself against the bed, unable to stand up, unable to look at Ghost as he stares at you. You can just shake your head, your shoulders never relaxing, your entire body coiled with pain and grief.

Ghost moves slowly as he takes his mask off, leaving it on the floor in front of him. His eyes are downcast, his blonde hair messy and you can see he's been barely eating, however long you've been here.

He looks like shit.

Perhaps, if this was a few days ago, you'd be making a silly joke so he doesn't feel so vulnerable. You would've kissed him and played with his blonde eyelashes until he rolled his eyes, and playfully smacked your hand away.

Now, mask or no mask, you don't know this man.

taglist: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic

styling decisions bc this reader is traumatized as hell. and no, no forgiving.

it'll stay for a bit. you'll be noticing the change in reader's emotions through it!

[ssahotchnerr]

no but imagine pre-relationship aaron with fem!reader who can fall asleep anywhere & in the most uncomfortable positions known to mankind 💀 aaron is both terrified and amazed bcs how do you keep doing that 😧 but then every time he sees you like that he slowly & carefully arranges you in a more comfortable position 🥹🫶🏻 & the team gives him shit for it 💀

(luvie can I be 🪷 anon 🥹🫶🏻)

makeshift

omg stop i love that cw; fem!reader, bau family banter, pining aaron <333

falling asleep in a federal prison, may seem like a hard thing to do. surrounded by the worst of the worst, distant yells from the inmates floating down the hall, the mere location itself. but apparently, not for you.

the facility was currently on lockdown, meaning no one was going in or out, and therefore you were stuck overnight. as a result, the warden offered one of the locker rooms to be strictly the bau's 'break room', so to speak.

after his last, rather unpleasant interview of the evening, aaron was hellbent on a fresh, but not very good, cup of coffee. as he pushed the door open and entered, his focus diverted straight to you.

you were laid across a steel bench - eyes closed, hands clasped over your stomach, absolutely gone to the world. however, if you moved an inch - or probably less - would you completely topple onto the hard floor.

"you're kidding." aaron deadpanned as he looked at you in pure astonishment, coffee long forgotten.

"she's been like that for thirty minutes now." jj commented from where she was leant against one of the sets of lockers, head bent down as she scrolled through her phone. "but are we surprised?"

"nah," derek snorted lightly. "but hey, better than the floor."

"tell me about it." a low grumble came from reid, somewhere.

aaron's face pulled into one of discomfort, his brows drawing into a line above his eyes. the surface you were asleep on, had to be cold, for starters, by nature of the material and the a/c was still kicking in high gear despite the cooler temperature outside. the flat metal had to be highly uncomfortable, no cushion underneath you at all, most likely digging into your shoulder blades. you'd inevitably be waking up to an angry back, which aaron knew from experience - from past events where you miraculously drifted off in questionable positions.

eager to lessen the outcome, aaron shrugged his suit jacket off his shoulders. he balled it up, situating it snug under his arm.

next, he crouched beside you, cradling your head in his hand as he lifted it gently. at the movement, you stirred, a small noise escaping you and aaron froze, waiting for you to settle back down before resuming his actions. part of him feared his current, drumming heart would somehow rouse you more.

but once you had, he slid his jacket underneath your head - a makeshift pillow. it wasn't much, but it would at least alleviate some of the pressure collecting in your neck, and you wouldn't be as sore when you awoke. the next thing he had to figure out, something to lay on the ground, on either side of you, to soften the fall in case you were to-

"that's real cute hotch." derek grinned, grabbing aaron from his thoughts. "when you make up my bed next, can you add one of those pillow chocolates? thanks."

"funny."

aaron stole a glance at you, a calmness brushing over him and the ends of his lips daring to tug upwards into a smile. he couldn't help himself - sure, he wished you weren't fast asleep on a bench that could cause potential harm if you budged, but it didn't hide the fact that you were, well, you.

his hopeful, hidden attempt didn't go unnoticed by one person though, who naturally had to open their big mouth.

"that's nothing compared to that case in montana," aaron shot dave a pointed look to quit it, but only got a wink in return. "hotch practically carried-"

"dave."

"aaron." dave quipped back, an eyebrow quirked high in amusement, but fell silent. although, his witty expression didn't falter, as if he were noting to aaron that it wouldn't be difficult at all to be persuaded to continue.

"whoa whoa there, rossi," morgan straightened his posture, a hand out. "go on."

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Once Upon A December

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Summary: Of all the things your heart used to know, things it years to remember, Bucky Barnes is at the top of that list.

A.N. - I feel like you guys just haven't been made aware, but one thing about me, I love a good musical.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Anon's Birthday Celebration

Bucky softly swallows the air that seems to get more sparse as he thinks, truly thinks, about his latest conclusion. "I just - I think it's time."

His hands fold together, he hunches over, barely able to tear his eyes off the ground.

"I can't tell you what to do here, Buck."

"I know."

"Do what you think is best."

"Best?" He bitterly chuckles. "There is no best. I just - I'm hurtin' the both of us by holding on. And I don't want to hurt her anymore."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me."

"I feel so guilty every time I look at her." Bucky lightly gasps for air. "And God, I - Sometimes, I think that maybe that's the reason I'm the only one she doesn't remember."

Steve grips Bucky's shoulder, "Buck... it wasn't your fault."

"How do I let her go?" Bucky brokenly whispers. "How do I mourn the love of my life when I know she's right there, she's alive?"

Steve finds himself at a loss for words. There was no answer. Nothing he could say. It was a truly impossible situation. "I'm so sorry."

He shakes his head, clearing his throat, "I should go talk to her."

"I think she was in your - in her room."

Bucky winces at the correction. It wasn't their room anymore. Now, it was your room. He'd given you the space to try to regain that void in your memory.

And yet, it's all so painfully familiar. It's muscle memory. Walking to your room. Knocking on your door. The only difference is now, it doesn't feel like coming home, it feels more like the procession to his own funeral.

"James..." Your tone is flat, unsure as you open the door. He hates the guilt glistening in your eyes. He sees it every time you look at him. He hates that he's the one that made you feel that way.

When it first happened, when he first realized that he was nothing but a blurry figure dancing through your memory, he tried telling you.

He tried filling every detail of your epic love story in your mind. He tried forcing himself back into your memories. Nothing brought back the look of love and adoration in your eyes.

He offers a heavy smile, "Hi. Can I come in?"

You nod, stepping away from the door to allow him into his former home. The place looks the same, with the notable exception of the traces of him.

You settle on the couch. He sits on the small loveseat, perpendicular to you. "How are you?"

He licks his lips, offering a small shrug, "I start therapy in a few days again."

"Oh."

"What about you?"

Your voice is far more curt than you intend, "I didn't remember anything if that's what you're asking."

His heart stammers, "No. That's not what I meant."

"Sorry, I didn't sleep very well. Not that it's an excuse."

"Nightmares?"

"Just the same one." You're not sure how much detail he cares to hear, but the way he waits for you to continue is almost a comfort. Your eyes squeeze shut as the memory plays on a loop. "I - I don't remember the mission. Just bits and pieces. I was alone. On the rooftop. And then I see the HYDRA agent's face. When they push me. That's where the nightmare starts... I fall. It's dark. I can hear someone screaming my name. And it's over."

"You weren't alone on the roof."

"What?"

"I was on the roof with you. We were scoping out the area. They came out of nowhere."

Your eyes widen. It clicks. The sound of the voice screaming after you. It almost perfectly matches the timbre of his voice. Only now, his voice sounded strained, tried. "You were screaming my name."

Bucky nods, "I jumped after you. I didn't make it in time. I found you laying in your own blood."

"I'm sorry, James."

He hates the sound of his name so formal leaving your mouth. He can't help himself as he speaks, "You never used to call me that."

"Oh?"

A sad smile tugs at the corner of Bucky's mouth, "You only called me James when you were upset. Or when I was annoying you."

A light chuckle leaves your lips, "What did I call you when you weren't annoying me?"

"Bucky. Buck." He shrugs. He swallows the knot forming in his throat, his voice wavering, "A lot of pet names. I pretended to hate it, but I didn't."

You look up to see tears shining in his eyes. His voice breaks as he continues on, "You called me Sarge when you were joking or being flirty."

You reach forward, squeezing his hand. A tight knot forms in your throat, "I'm sorry I can't be the girl you remember."

He looks down at the warmth of your hand resting on his. He's acutely aware that this is the first time you've initiated contact with him since you forgot him.

He swallows back his tears, "You didn't take off your ring."

"It didn't feel right to." You start sliding the ring off, "I should probably give it back."

He immediately stops you, "Keep the ring."

"Steve said it was your mother's. I couldn't."

He shakes his head, his heart clenching with pain, "I won't need it."

You rest your hand on your chest. Your heart yearns to remember him, to remember his place in your life. It was right there. Like a word on the tip of your tongue. You could feel the memory of him glowing in the recesses of your memory, glowing as dim as an ember.

You were so close, and yet, it wasn't enough. "I want to remember. I so badly do."

He stroke a stray hair out of your face. Sitting this close to you, he takes a long moment to memorize every detail. The slope of your nose. Your eyes. Your lips. He knows he'll never be this close to you again.

He had to stop hurting you. He had to stop hurting himself.

"I know."

You rest your forehead against him. It feels both so foreign and so familiar all at once.

"Can I - Can I kiss you?" he asks. "Just one last time."

You nod, your heart shattering at the sound of the hurt in his wavering voice.

His flesh hand rests against your cheek. Your breath shudders, dancing across his lips. His nose brushes against yours. Once. Twice. You find yourself leaning forward, closing the distance. His lips brush against yours hesitantly at first. You can't help but notice the way they mold against yours perfectly.

The song that vaguely echoed in the back of your mind gets louder and louder, echoing with thoughts of him. The memory of him rattles against your skull, begging you to remember.

Your hand moves from its place on the cushion to his shoulder. Slowly, it creeps down to rest just above his racing heart. You hum against his lips, pulling yourself away from him.

You look up at him, your eyes shining up at him like they once used to. "Bucky?"

Bucky Barnes Masterlist Anon's Birthday Celebration

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky@roseproseposts @theoraekenslover@king814318 @maybesomedaytho @carlie-babes99 @sunshinechikin @as-white-as-snow-love @melala1030 @badasswlthafatass @armystay89 @multiversefanfics @cherrysscinema @breathlesspieceofdeath @ravenn-darkholme @bxckybxrnes24 @guiltyasreid @bellabarnes1378 @blithecapricorn @mrsnikstan

[alanisstonedd]

plug!connie stays over your dorm for the first time.

cw: suggestive, heavy pettingggg, weed

----------------------------------

he calls you - gettin straight to the point “yo i’m like 3 blocks away from u” he called u and u stupidly picked up thinking it was nothing. thinkin it would just be yall two on ft yapping all night, like every other time.

but plopped on your bed in booty shorts and an old tee, bonnet thrown on and glasses sitting on the bridge of your nose, the idea of linking with this random boy you been talkin too was NOT even in the conversation.

you cursed the you from 2 minutes ago for telling him u weren’t doing anything, bcs he was DEAD serious and your heart was already in your stomach. “so you gon let me slide or what ma?” jesusssss. he tryna kill u. with no good excuses coming to mind at the moment, you reluctantly agree.

and soon enough you’re in the elevator down to the ground floor in a nike tech, sweats and some ugg slippers for warmth. you walk out on legs made out of literal jello and immediately see him walking toward the door. jesus you think. he has on sweats a hoodie and forces, lookin fine as hell w his buzz cut and earrings.

"you aint tell me where to park ma, so i just parked on the street. i hope thats okay" he said lookin you up and down with a lick of the lips. what the fuck is happeninggg you thought. this is like the second time you linked with his ass only because he been on ya ass about it since the first time. you did seem to have forgotten how fineee he was in person tho because you were chokin on them words like hell. "uhhhmm yea thats fine. i mean- i dont- yeah- thats good." you looked down from his intense eye contact in shame. this was not baddie behavior.

"okayy," he said chuckling w that lil smirk. "so what you been doinnnn ma. i feel like u been tryna curve me" ummm not exactly. you only missed a few calls. what? you're a busy girl. "boy im busyyy, chill on me." you said with an eye roll, walking toward the lobby of the dorm. you signed him in and headed up to your room in the elevator. "sooo ya roommate over orrr?" he said standing behind you, slowly putting his arms around your shoulders. he leaned down so his mouth was right by your ear and you could practically feel him smirking against your neck. "and you need to know that why?" you said smirking. you could smell his minty breath on your face and it was suddenly 90 degrees in the elevator.

when yall got to your room you sat down on your bed and he followed your lead, his leg touching yours and you know he did that shit on purpose. him and his sexy smile and his sexy buzz cut and . you picked up your half smoked blunt out of the ashtray and lit it again, thinking this will ease me out fs. "can i hit" hes leaned back on his forearms looking at you like he tryna get into smth else.... and with the weed relaxing you... the boldness flows freely. "me or the blunt?" you said taking another drag.

"both, ideally. but you playin hard to get so ion know" you let out a real chuckle, "you aint seen hard to get con. you just mad i aint fall in ya lap on the first link like them other hoes." "mannnnn cmonn" he leaned his head back stretching out flat on the bed "you know its not like that ma." you climbed over his layed out body and put the blunt in his mouth, not expecting him to trap you there straddling him. "lets put the blunt down mama. im tryna get to know you better" you sat up on him, putting the lighter on the night stand, then laying your hands flat on his chest. "okay what you wanna know" you took the blunt from him and his hands went to your hips, rubbing you up from your booty to the underside of your tits.

"everything" he said watching you like a hawk as you lean back, hands on his legs and release the smoke "thats gon take a while con. might be too much for you." you lean over and grab the lighter, lighting it up again just to spite him "what? boy, i never said i was done." you roll your eyes placing the blunt and lighter back on the nightstand, as he sucks his teeth "mann you just like my weed thas all.." you lean down and blow smoke directly in his mouth, using all strength left in your body to not kiss him. "you not wronggg" you sang, giving in kissing him feather light.

the weed had you feeling every wave of energy from his body and you were getting worked up fr. this man couldn't keep his hands off of you - who were you not to revel in it? he chases your lips, because of course one small taste could never be enough for that man. he grabbed the back of your head, peppering warm wet kisses on your lips, one had sliding down to that bubble butt he can't stop feelin on. you propped your top half up on the bed, elbows caging his head in. you felt his warm breath travel down to your neck, his soft lips still peppering, his tongue laving up to your ear, and a searing bite right under your jaw "im never wrong mami"

hahahaaaa 💋 to be continued???

[hel1nn]

I like him ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎

⛱ A little moodboard ⤴

𐔌 . ⋮ teen satoru gojo x teen reader .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

𐙚 : flufff | cursed words | satoru being a cutie | mutual pining | time skips to where your married to satoru | .𖥔 ݁

a/n : im back!! I will finally post and continue my series, but today this is something for my boy torus birthday:)

"ewww y/n i had no idea your taste in men is so disgusting.." utahime scolds you for the who knows what time. Shoko beside her enjoys the drama,taking a drag from her cigarette. You slump in defeat. Pouting slightly..

"ik sometimes he's annoying but he's also a nice person too-"

"what do you mean by sometimes!?" Utahime yells at you. You groan in frustration, failing to defend satoru again,your not so normal crush on gojo bothered utahime to no end. She hated gojo with every part in her body. Even seeing him makes her eyes twitch in hatred.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Utahime got too much annoyed and left the classroom,shoko left a little later after patting your back. Sulking you lean back in your chair a bit too much, resulting you to fall flat on your ass hard on the ground. You groan in pain standing up, you don't know who's face you saw when you woke up in the morning, since you day is already being ruined. You continue your day,but you weren't able to see satoru since he was sent to an 2days mission but you don't have to worry about it since satoru told you he will come back tomorrow. (On a two hour call with you this evening).

After a long day you're finally able to rest or....bake something for satoru. Since he had told you he's bringing you souvenires..you cringed the way you squeal while thinking about this but you can't help it,you were so in love with satoru. Just like how satoru loved you. You finally entered your dorm, locking it up in seconds. The first thing you do is bringing out the mini electric oven under your bed,yeah satoru bought you that since he loved your cookies,cakes and more.

-

You were almost done with the cookie dough but then...you hear a knock on your dorm's door. Your body immediately freezes. Who tf was knocking on your door at fucking 3:57 am? You hide away the oven and the almost finished cookie dough since you don't want to get caught now. You walk to your door, hesitantly opening it and-

"boo!" Satoru bursts in, almost tripping over you. You couldn't help but smile.. this has happened before too. Sometimes he would come back from missions early so he could eat spent time with you your cookies. Satoru laughed slightly before closing the door,locking it up. You sigh

"satoru,at least you could have texted me-"

"but i wouldn't have been able to see your face covered in flour" he's cocky tone making you slightly annoyed but you know your face isn't fully covered in flour,

"don't be like that my face isn't full of flour anyway" you playfully poke at his ribcage with your elbow. Making him giggle. The night went on both of you and satoru baked cookies together. Little did you knew next day he ate all the cookies Infront of everyone in class. When you find this out all you do is laughing it off. As always at the sparring session all you were able to focus on was satoru. How he gripped the wooden bokken. How he would tease everyone in the middle of practice, he's cheeky smile thats turns into a soft one when he sees you. You loved so many things about him,his hand brushing with yours or how he holds it whenever he gets a chance. Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, even though it was a friendly gesture your heart raced whenever he did that,his blue eyes softening when both of you are alone,and the list goes on.

୭₊˚🎀 time skips ✿ ·˚ ₊

You groan at the lost feeling of satoru, slightly waking up. It didn't took your husband to come out of the bathroom and lay you down on his chest again,a kiss on the temple as a cherry on top. It was already 6am..you both had to go to the work but..cuddling is way too better. You mumble something before giving his nose a small peck,both of you getting lost in the dreams again.

A/N : Short n sweet:) English isn't my first language sorry if i made any mistake:)

[capricornlevi]

Gojo with his s/o who went missing for MONTHS, but comes backs somehow?

(Bonus: he thought that s/o was dead ;-;)

ten years previously

"Promise me you won't be too mad when I die."

Satoru furrows his brow when he hears you, tilting his head to the side to look at you funny.

You're both sprawled out on the grass, lying flat on your backs and gazing at the blue skies shining over Jujutsu Tech. Outside the school grounds, mountains line the perimeter like battlements, but you don't feel locked away. You feel at peace with everything: your choices, your circumstances, the company you've kept. The warm summer air wraps around you like an embrace.

What once seemed so alien to you, so frightening, is now your reality. It doesn't scare you as much anymore.

You're shoulder-to-shoulder with Satoru, laying about on the soft grass, not caring if your uniform gets wrinkled as you roll over to your side, propping your head against your elbow and meeting his gaze.

You've both ditched Yaga's class to hang out in the training field, and the sounds of the second-years laughing from the nearby dorms are the only noises you can hear apart from the distant chirping of birds.

That is, until Satoru objects indignantly:

"What are you talking about?"

You smile, not wanting to spoil the otherwise peaceful day. You hadn't brought it up to be negative, but it had to be said; if you don't do it now, you'll never get the courage to do so.

"You know what I mean. You are my best friend in the entire world, and you know that I am not going to last as long out there as you will -- on missions, fighting."

Somewhat irritated, Satoru reaches a hand up to flick you on the nose. You swat him away, laughing, which makes him crack a smile.

"Our last day before graduation, and you want to focus on this morbid shit?" he asks, his tone light and jokey but with an undertone of seriousness that only you ever recognise.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not planning on giving up," you elaborate, distractedly picking a nearby daisy. You don't touch the petals, twirling it by its stem so that it spins in your fingers. "I'll give it my all for as long as I can, but I'm just saying ... don't expect me to be fighting by your side when you're one of the ninety-year-old elders."

"If I turn out like them, then I'll need you around so you can shoot me."

You make a sound that's half-scoff, half-laugh. "I'm being serious."

"So am I," he says, eyes fixed on yours. "Completely serious. You've excelled at every test. We couldn't have won the goodwill event without you. You've completed dozens of missions by now, missions that even I found tricky. What's bringing this on now?"

You shrug, still peering down at the flower in between your thumb and index finger. "Just a feeling, I guess."

"A feeling?"

You hum in the affirmative, and Satoru sighs.

"Want to know my reply, then?" he retorts, still quite serious.

Your head snaps back up at that.

Satoru sits up, cross-legged, scanning your face as though he's committing it to memory. Then, he carefully plucks the daisy from your hand and tucks it behind your ear.

"If you die, I'll be well and truly pissed."

---

The only part of that mission that Satoru really, truly recollects, the only crystal-clear memory in an otherwise blurry mess, was the feeling of Yaga's hand on his shoulder when he arrived at the gates of Jujutsu Tech.

Alone. He arrived back alone, for the first time ever. Three years after graduation and he'd never even had a close call, much less return in this state, and without you.

The whole experience felt so strange, for lack of better word. It felt like it was happening to someone else.

He had explained what had happened, the words leaving his mouth without much thought on his part. His voice sounded cold, detached, unrecognisable.

"And it took her," is how he finished speaking, he's pretty sure. Again, the details are hazy. He doesn't think that he bothered telling Yaga that he tried everything he could out there. That he pushed himself until he nearly broke. That he tried, at the end, to put himself in the curse's reach, to step into harm's way if it meant you got even five minutes more in this world.

Yaga already knows all that.

Thankfully, his former teacher doesn't waste time with empty words of condolence. He just rests a hand on Satoru's shoulder, the gesture doing more than any speech could.

It's not enough, though. Nothing ever would be.

---

Satoru prides himself on compartmentalisation. He has to do it to survive, he'll drown otherwise, and luckily, he's quite good at it. When Yuji asks him if he's ever lost someone to a curse, eyes wide with concern, he's able to wave off the boy's worries. He says yes, sadly, he's lost people, but that it's part of life, and that the only way to deal with it is to get stronger.

He doesn't sugarcoat it, but Yuji wasn't expecting him to. The boy just nods and continues his training. Satoru, meanwhile, resumes his meandering around the classroom, whistling along to some song that's been stuck in his head.

The only person you can control is yourself. Everything else just ... happens.

That's the closest thing he has to a personal philosophy, and it's a pretty foolproof one, having gotten him through some of the bleakest, emptiest years of his life.

He's done well for himself, considering. He's not as brash and impulsive as he was when he was younger. He's dedicated his life to preparing young sorcerers for the world out there, trying to keep them safe as long as he can. He lives a comfortable life and keeps himself entertained but focused, constantly motivated to keep moving forward.

Truthfully, the only time his worldview comes close to being threatened is when he sees a patch of daisies growing in the grass.

Whether out walking through the school grounds, or on a mission in the countryside, or on a faculty trip to the botanic gardens in the city, he's struck by them every so often. He tries to avert his eyes when he glimpses the tell-tale flash of yellow and white petals, but it's no use.

He doesn't break down. He doesn't even cry, not since that first night. He just feels the sensation creep up his chest, gripping his throat like a vice. It burns, sometimes, like someone's actually there choking him. When he breathes, it's more like a gasp for air.

That's why he's built that philosophy, see, because those moments, those flashes of emotion, are more painful than anything he's felt in his life. If that's even one percent of what the feeling must be like in its entirety, then it's best kept buried. To unleash it is to unravel, to be at the mercy of the world.

And the only thing he can control is himself.

---

This is the final night of a five-day-long exchange trip to Kyoto, and the students have earned some rest time. Satoru doesn't object to the girl's request, letting her leave to explore the souvenir store while Yuji and Megumi pick up their crepes from some touristy café down the street.

present day

"Gojo-sensei, can I pick up something from that store before we head back?" Nobara asks, lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. "I won't be long."

Satoru hangs around as people mill past, hands in his pockets. The air is thick with heat and the smell of baked goods from nearby bakeries. Though it's well into the evening hours, the sun shows no sign of setting.

With nothing better to do, he resigns himself to people-watching. The fact that he's a head or so taller than most passers-by means he sees everything.

He spots an ageing businessman scolding his teenage son, gesturing furiously at a folded piece of paper -- a school report, maybe -- as the boy looks down at his feet while walking alongside him.

An elderly couple walking hand-in-hand.

Two friends bickering over summer holiday plans.

A group of ten or so tourists, trailing hopelessly behind their guide who is striding along the thoroughfare without looking back.

But then, suddenly, all the faces in the crowd blur into obscurity.

Noises cut off instantaneously.

He hears nothing, feels nothing.

For a moment, Satoru swears that time pauses, everyone suspended in freeze-frame while his brain tries to catch up with what he's seeing.

Who he's seeing.

You.

You're wearing sunglasses. You're dressed differently. You're a few years older than the last time he saw you, which only adds to his hope.

Even with these changes, he knows it's you. He'd know it was you even if he were surrounded by a million other faces.

His legs move before he can process anything else.

It doesn't take him long to catch up to you. As he reaches out to touch your shoulder, understandably, you jolt with surprise at the unexpected contact. Turning around to face him, you remove your headphones and relax a little when you realise that he's not a salesperson or pickpocket.

You push your sunglasses up to rest on your forehead, smiling politely.

Satoru waits. His eyes bore into yours, waiting for that sign of recognition, that epiphany to hit you when you realise that he's finally found you.

Nothing comes.

"Can I help you?" you ask, your tone amiable, if a little confused.

Satoru blinks slowly.

"What's your name?" he asks in response, though he knows it.

You respond with that same name he's had at the tip of his tongue all these years, but never let himself speak it aloud.

He doesn't give his own, suddenly unable to say that, either.

"Where did you go to school?" he queries finally, almost pleadingly.

Even more puzzled, you still try to maintain that aura of politeness. "In Tokyo. Why?" You hesitate, and he's just about to let himself breathe again before you exclaim;

"Oh! Did we have a class together?"

Satoru feels a crushing weight settle over him. Cold, unyielding dread floods his veins.

Panic.

He isn't dead, is he?

No. This can't be the afterlife, this can't be your reunion, because he can't imagine that a supposed paradise would be so cruel as to make you a stranger to him.

You, on the other hand, interpret his silence as answering your question.

"I'm so sorry, that's so rude of me!" you apologise, grimacing with embarrassment. "I really don't remember much from back then, I promise. I'm terrible with names. I'm sure you were lovely!"

Only then does Satoru notice something else: the change to your cursed energy, the way it barely registers as anything at all. It hangs over you like a rainy mist, grey and lifeless, completely different to the bright effervescence that used to follow you everywhere.

He realises a thousand things at once.

That curse, that creature that took you, didn't kill you. He's heard of this only a few times before, but what you encountered was a parasitic spirit, one that sustains its pathetic existence through the cursed energy of powerful sorcerers. They do this because of the potency of a sorcerer's energy, like an untapped well, particularly from someone as high-ranking as you were.

To achieve this, it has placed some amnesiac over you to stifle your abilities to fight back.

That ... thing, that spirit, that parasite, likely returns every so often to feed, and with it goes all memories of your life beforehand.

Satoru's first feeling upon this realisation is guilt. A strange feeling, but one he can't deny, because even though he understands what happened to you, you're none the wiser.

You're still standing there, groceries in hand, as the warm summer breeze washes over you both.

You're waiting for him to speak.

He doesn't. He can't.

"Well, it was lovely meeting you again!" you pipe up cordially, pushing your sunglasses back into place with a flick of your finger. You turn around and call out over your shoulder, "I'm sure I'll see you around!"

Satoru stays there, frozen, and makes a decision there and then.

A new philosophy. A new promise.

He is going to do whatever he can to give you back your life.

You can do whatever you want with it -- maybe you won't forgive him for not saving you, maybe you'll carry on with this existence in Kyoto, maybe you'll go back to sorcery and pretend this never happened.

But it's your choice. The least he can do is ensure you get the chance the make it.

---

"You know it doesn't always work out the way you want it to," Shoko says with more sympathy than he's ever heard from her before. She stands with her back to the stone wall, looking at him sadly. The school buildings loom behind them both, everyone inside asleep. It's so quiet out here that it feels almost unnatural, foreboding.

Satoru has spent months working on this mission, forsaking all other tasks in preparation to exorcise this curse that's robbed you of so much. Tonight, with hours before he leaves for Kyoto, he is asking Shoko his only remaining question.

He's already worked out when the spirit is likely to return to feed. He's figured out a plan to kill it. He is even certain that he can do all of this while keeping you out of further harm's way.

There's really only one question that he has left for his friend, and that is what might happen afterwards.

She's never seen something like this before, she warned him, only ever heard about it from others. It's all word of mouth, no medical texts or written histories. And it's most definitely not a given that all of your memories will return. You'll be lucky if you regain any of the cursed energy you've lost.

That's enough, he figures, to give you a fighting chance. If he was in this position, he'd want the same to be done for him.

"I know," he finally answers Shoko, watching as she exhales from her cigarette into the dark night air. "But it's not just about what I want."

"You can live with it?" she asks with a quiet concern. "With being a stranger, maybe forever?"

He doesn't have to think over his reply.

"I can live with it."

Shoko nods. She puts out her cigarette against the wall, flicks it away, and they head back inside.

---

As strong as he knows he is, Satoru is surprised yet again by the strength of that spirit, how desperately it wants to keep draining life from others.

It's a messy fight. The creature recognises him, almost gleeful at his arrival. It glances up at your apartment overhead, with you sleeping inside, completely unaware of their presence on the street below. Then, the curse looks back at Satoru with a grin that fills him with a fury that burns a hole in his chest.

He is filled with a sensation that feels alien to him, completely unfamiliar, an all-encompassing feeling that he can't attempt to put into words.

As he strikes the curse over and over and over, watching as the hits land, watching it get gravely wounded, none of it does anything to alleviate that feeling.

He kills it, eventually. It dies somewhat pitifully in a puddle of its own cursed energy, spitting out angry hisses until it grows quiet.

Nothing changes then. Satoru feels no shift in the air, no disturbance. He's shielded from civilians so he expected a degree of quietness, but he hears nothing, absolutely nothing, not even the rain falling around him.

Everything else is still.

He feels exhausted in every way. Physically, emotionally, he's spent, having unleashed not only his rage on that spirit, but every iota of pain and fear he's been slowly amassing since their first encounter, since it tore you away and left him untethered.

That feeling is not gone, though. He's not sure it ever will be. But he's identified it, and somehow, that does something to soothe him.

Then, the quietness is interrupted by the sound of a window opening a few floors above.

He glances up in time to see you shout down at him.

"Satoru!"

He closes his eyes. The sound of his own name pours down on him like sunlight.

He feels it all; the recognition in your voice, the relief.

By the time he opens his eyes again, you're down on the street in your pyjamas and slippers, throwing yourself into his arms.

He wraps them around you as tight as he can without causing you any pain, lifting you up and keeping you so close to his chest that you can hear his heart beating.

He can feel your tears seep into the fabric of his shirt and rests a hand on the back of your head, desperate to carry out any gesture to bring you comfort.

You kiss him, then. You kiss his lips, his face, his neck, you cup his face in your hands and feel him lean into the touch.

Eventually, after a perfect eternity in this embrace, you pull apart.

"Were you pissed?" you ask, laughing as you say the words, tear lines still streaking your face but your eyes bright and full of life. "Back then, you said you would be."

"Yes, but not at you," he answers with a smile, and that makes you cry again, good tears, proud tears.

It will take a while for things to get back to normal, he knows that. There's still a lot he can't control. But if he hadn't tried, if he had given up and surrendered to circumstance, you wouldn't be here in front of him, smiling, glowing, looking up at him with beautiful recognition.

That's enough for a new philosophy.

[lyrenminth]

Watching the sunset together

Joe Burrow x reader

I hope you enjoy this post. happy season for everyone! Wishing the best for all players and teams.

When Joe announced the vacations to Cabo, you were grateful. After a long season, you could relax and enjoy each other's company.

You stayed in a fancy hotel, eat deliciously and spend a good time walking around. At nights, you went out to eat dinner, went to bed to talk or make puzzles together or have steamy sex on every flat source you could find. It was a nice vacation overall, and you enjoyed Joe's company without the stress was nice. During the off season's beginning Joe was more relaxed, as the time went by and the season was closer he was more grumpy, and during the season you didn't have so much communication because he was so stressed and focused in keeping the team in the game. It was unreal, and at the start of your relationship was a big problem for both. You disliked his personality after a bad game, and he didn't like how incomprehensible you could be. So you talked a lot. About many things. It helped to improve your relationship and the dynamics.

So here were you, watching the sunset in the balcony. Sunsets always made you feel nostalgic for some reason. It was a beautiful sight to behold, and you didn't want to start thinking about anything at all. The balcony's door opened and Joe appeared looking for you.

"Hey" he said, freshly showered. He was a little bit red around the cheeks and forehead, and you made fun of him for it a couple times before. He sat down next to you, your arms touching. "What are we doing?" he asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Thinking about the meaning of life" you answered, seriously.

"Great, my favorite topic" he added, flat. You looked at his handsome face, smiling fondly. "You're such a beautiful shrimp" you teased him. "You won't even let me be, will you?" he answered back, the lines at the corners of his eyes appearing. "Why do you hate sunscreen so much?" you wondered.

"I applied sunscreen!" he replied, all outraged. "You need to apply it every two hours, Joe".

"I won't remember that" he decided.

You sighed, laying your head on his shoulder. The ocean was so beautiful, the red, orange and blue colors blending together, and the sun was split in half. The warm breeze caressed your face and you felt the urge to cry of happiness. It was so silly, but you felt so grateful for all things you got. Including Joe and his steady presence.

Joe always snapped you back to reality. As pragmatic as he was, he helped you to stay grounded. And as the dreamer you were, you help him to relax and enjoy. To see the other side.

Joe's hand searched for yours, his long fingers intertwined with yours. You felt your belly flutter in excitement. And you watched together the sun hide, and the moon rose and started shining. You were running your finger absentmindedly along scar of his knee while you were telling a childhood memory.

"You know what? I love this" he confessed after you finish telling the story about your first time on the beach "I like this a lot"

"What?"

"This" he waved a hand between both. "You made me feel cool"

You laughed. He wasn't romantic in his words, but you understood the meaning behind. The biggest compliment he had given to you was something about you feeling like a football match. "Thrilling, nice, intense" considering he was a football boy, you took it nicely.

"Thanks, you made me feel cool too"

"You know what I mean" he said, a bit embarrassed.

"Yes, I know love"

He kissed your forehead. "Are you hungry?"

"A little bit"

"We should order something or do you prefer to go down?" he asked. Another thing about Joe: he was very considerate about food. He always try to please you when you liked something. Once a bought ten boxes of the cookie brand you liked because you were dating Mr. Because I Can.

"I want to stay with you" you said. You didn't need to explain further.

"Okay, let's check the menu and order" you shiver from the mildly cold, and he ran a hand through your arm to warm you a little bit. "Let's go inside" he whispered in your ear. You felt something tingle between your legs.

You went inside, his phone started buzzing. It was his agent. "Can you order for me?" he apologize and left the room for privacy. You did as told. You laid on the couch, scrolling on your phone to kill time. Joe join you after a couple of minutes, he fell over you on the couch, hiding his face in the curve of your neck. His breath was heavy and warm against your skin.

"What does Matthew want?" you asked. Matt was his agent.

"He wants me to sign a new sponsor for the upcoming season" he said, kissing you neck slightly. You curled your toes, trying not to giggle.

"What type?" he raised his head at your question. His eyes were so blue under that light, and you could count every blond eyelash from there. "Jewelry. Bracelets" you ran your hands through his back, and cupping his ass. He didn't flinched, the opposite. He grinned and dive into a kiss. His tongue made its way inside your mouth, one hand running to your size, stopping at your breasts. You opened your legs to accommodate him between. You sighed feeling his erection against your inner thigh, hard and demanding.

"I'll have you for dinner" he said against your lips. Your hips started humping, looking for that delicious friction you needed. You were pulling his shirt up to undress him when you heard a ring.

And then another one.

"Fuck, who is it?" Joe said, gritted teeth.

"Dinner maybe" you whispered, frozen in place.

"Are you hungry?" your stomach took the perfect moment to answer that with a grumble. "Okay" he said laughing, sitting next to you.

"We have desert" you winked at him.

"Mmmm, I would love that" he said, standing up and reaching the door.

The dinner was delicious, and you spent a good time chatting and joking. Joe told you about his most recent reading, and you did your best to understand what he was saying. At midnight you were feeling sleepy, and so was he, both decided to skip the steamy sex session and have a good sleep.

"God, we're getting older" you mumbled, feeling him hug you from behind, and getting closer to you. He was really warm, and big and cuddly. "We choose to sleep over sex"

"It's fair" he said equally sleepy.

"Night" you whispered.

But he was fast asleep.

[grahstumhurts]

4. "The stars, They rival your beauty"

Cheerleader!Megan x Loser Band member! Reader

Rekindling Masterlist

“And we are here” You announce as you park your car. Megan reaches behind the front seats to grab the grocery bags, The plastic rustling slightly. “I need to go and get the blankets from the back,” You hop out of the car and pop the trunk, two fleece blankets in rolls.

“You sure we're allowed to be out here this late?” She looks at the gate of the park entrance,

“It should be fine, I’ve been here before at this time” 

“Oh so you’ve brought other girls here?” She jokes, “and what did you two do here alone in the dark at the park?” 

“What is done in the park, stays in the park.” You shrug, Smugly smiling at her as you slip past the gate.

You two walk in silence, the sounds of your footsteps and the bags brushing together are one of the only things besides the sounds of nature and your breathing.

“It’s really pretty out tonight.” She sighs, Looking up at the stars. 

“The stars are more clear because we are further from the city.” You roll out a blanket on a flat patch of grass. “Light pollution and all that ruins the sight.” You splay out on the blanket. 

“Taking up all the space I see?” She giggles at your position and pulls out her phone to snap a photo.

“Come down here, The stars look so pretty.” You reach your hand out to her, She takes it and allows herself to be gently dragged down to your level. Her head resting on your chest.

“You can see the Gemini constellation from here.” You point out a grouping of stars. 

“You're such a nerd.” She mumbles, Holding your hand and tracing the lines in your palm. 

“It’s not nerd shit to know fun facts.” You reach for the snack bag and pull out her cookies. “I’m gonna eat all your fox cookies for that insult” You snicker,

“No! Those are off limits!” She climbs on top of you to try and snatch them out of your hand, You wave your arm out of her reach. She pins your wrist down onto the ground, grabbing her cookie packet out of your hand.  You pause and observe both your positions,

“This looks very suspicious from a distance.” 

“Does it now?” She leans closer to your face, You can feel her breath fanning across your face. You notice every freckle in her face, the light eyebags under her eyes, she is all you can focus on. The way her pupils enlarge slightly and flicker between your eyes and your lips. The smell of sweat and grass masked her drifting scent of her shampoo and perfume.

She clears her throat, “Sorry, That was kind of weird” She backs away and sits next to you. As much as you wanna ignore the energy in the air, it's apparent the both of you can't.

“What did we end up buying?” you scavenge through the bag, searching for a drink of some sort. 

“I think I bought some chips or something.” She grabs some turtle chips, “I’ve been seeing these on tiktok and wanted to try them.”

“Tell me if they are good or not, Haven't seen them before.” You lie back, admiring the stars above. You hear a slight crunch and gasp from her,

“Oh my god these are so good what the fuck?!” Her eyes wide, “Try it” She shoves her fingers towards your mouth, a singular layered chip with specks of sugar crystals on top held between her fingers. You open your mouth and allow her to place the chip between your lips, Immediately tasting its brown sugar flavour and cinnamon spice.

“Wait, that's amazing?” You're shocked at the amount of flavour that can come out of one package product. 

You both slowly eat together the snacks that you bought, Enjoying the silence and solitude of the park while also appreciating the presence of the two of you. Megan ends up with her head on your chest while you both lay on the blankets, Just staring into the sky. When different constellations come to your recognition you point them out, Guiding her hand to point where it was. 

“I had a great time, Thank you” Megan says, walking back to your car holding the trash in one hand. She gives her signature smile, this moment is  immediately saved in your mind.

“No problem.” You open the car door for her and run over to your side. 

-

Your car stops just in front of Megan’s driveway, You two sit in silence for a good thirty seconds before she turns to you.

“Thank you for tonight,” She fidgets with her hands, Before you reach out and hold them in yours.

“You’ll just have to take me out on a date soon as well.” She laughs tiredly, grabbing hold of her bags and stepping out of the car. 

“I’ll text you later. Okay?” She waves you off before running into her house. You cant help but feel the fullness in your chest overflow, It’s hard to push down feelings when she acts this way especially since the two of you almost kissed. Keyword Almost.

-

Thursday comes and you're exhausted, Overthinking takes a toll on one's mind doesn't it. Your sitting in Daniela's garage like usual, scribbling down some lyrics as they mess around. “By now you would have finished writing, Whats up?” Dani sits beside you, she sees right through your mask of normalcy. 

“Promise you wont make fun of me.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead 

“Do you even know me?”

“That's true i guess�� Knowing the whole group they’d make a spectacle of your whole situation, first convincing them after 10 years of knowing meant you were over your feelings for her, then having to fake date her, and finally nearly kissing her. 

“I have a feeling I already know what's going on.” She rests her chin on your shoulder, Quietly sighing as she reads over your notebook. “I mean this whole song is basically telling me already how you feel, About Megan and all that.” She's caught you, Like a fish in a trap. Helpless and knowing what comes next. “Your not exactly slick, i mean i knew you were a helpless romantic but i didn't think you were this helpless” 

“I have to fake date her, for her friends.” You chuckle at how stupid it sounds in retrospect, “I guess it made me realise how i was most definitely not over her.” 

“It’s okay to still have feelings for her, you do realise that right?” She sits up, Turning your shoulders to make you face her and forcing you to hold eye contact. “You spent the last ten years of your life pining for her and now you kinda have what you wanted all along? Not exactly surprising that you still like her.” She shrugs, 

“Part of me wants it to be real to her too, I feel like theres some part of her that wants it as much i do.” 

“Even if you want her with all your heart, You cant make someone want you back. As sad as it sounds its true.” She points her finger at your heart, “Deep down in that loser mopey heart of yours, You know what to do.” She walks off, patting your shoulder. At this point your brain is an echo chamber, You can't Make someone want you back. That's what scares you the most. Its frightening to be wrong, especially when you have something as important as a ten year friendship on the line. But at the same time, If you two are meant to only be friends, 

What's the harm in asking for more?

[normal-person-i-promise]

overcoat

inspired by!!

"...Arataka. What are you doing."

Your tone is flat; unimpressed, as he slides one arm out of his coat, leaving the other in.

"...Making sure my beloved employee doesn't freeze her little fingers off, that's what."

He grins at you, a mischievous glint in his eye as he lays the side of the coat he isn't wearing onto your shoulder, shoving your arm in.

i havent written anything for a while so this. might not be up to par with my usual stuff

edited to change reigen to arataka because reigen is his surname i. think

★ ★ ★

Snow pelts against the window as you gaze out the glass, watching the white snowflakes fall to the ground and add to the growing white blanket. The tree's frostbitten branches adorn the sky, their black branches a stark contrast to the almost pure white of the freshly fallen snow.

You can't really focus on the view, though.

Arataka sits at his desk, his legs propped up on the wood. the fading light of the setting sun backlights him, casting a golden rim of light that traces the outline of his body. One leg crossed over the other as he takes slow drags of his cigarette, and his eyes, half-lidded, aren't fixed on you — though yours is fixed on him — as he reads a newspaper, the grey paper crinkling each and every time he adjusts his grip.

You can barely keep yourself from stealing glances at him, trailing your eyes from his shiny leather dress shoes up to where his fingers delicately grasp the cigarette, held close to his mouth.

Thank god he doesn't notice; you're practically drooling over him like some dog.

Arataka calls your name, and the way it flows off his tongue makes your heart skip a beat.

"You can go home now," he says plainly, not looking up at you. He rolls up his newspaper with a hand, setting it on the desk as he brings his legs down.

Not so much as a "how do you do"...

You bring your gaze up to meet his, smiling politely despite your disappointment.

"Thank you," you say to him, beginning to pack what little things you brought.

"Ah... It's snowing quite heavily outside, though..." He mutters to himself, cradling his chin in a hand.

You hum in response as Arataka brings his gaze to look at you, watching as you slip on your jacket.

"Mmm, I suppose I wouldn't mind...

Shall I walk you home?"

It's nothing more than an act of politeness, but it makes your heart flutter. He's usually so... Indifferent to you.

Sure, he's brought you out to eat with him — alone, a few times, but you doubt that really matters to him. Maybe he has heartfelt conversations with you occasionally, his laughs twisting your stomach into knots, but that's just a way of paying his employees.

He's not interested you or anything. He clearly doesn't care, what with how he behaves around you.

Though you can't see it — too preoccupied in wearing your jacket, which is definitely not going to be enough to shield you from the cold — Arataka's scanning your face, analyzing every little feature for some kind of reaction.

Please react in some way, he's screaming to himself. Please tell me that you love me, too.

People are so easy to read! Why are you so hard?!

You finish off buttoning your jacket just as Arataka's done securing his scarf around his neck.

You step out the door, Arataka opening it for you like a gentleman. Your cheeks flush, and it seems like his do, too — but that's just the change in temperature! There's no way he's blushing, right...?

...The walk is relatively quiet. Neither of you really initiate conversation, the both of you more than content to be together in a comfortable silence.

You can't help but steal glances at your employer every now and then. His blonde hair is a wonderful contrast to the pure white of the snow that coats the ground; his eyes, not really taking much in (you're not surprised; he hasn't really expressed much interest in anything) seem to almost... Sparkle, when those dark irises reflect the shimmering white of the snow; his cheeks are flushed from the cold, a lovely colour against the cooler tones of the pathway you both walk on.

You only realize that you've been staring for a few moments too long when his eyes meet yours. Your face heats, and you cast your gaze to the pavement in front of you, trying to ignore the loud beating of your heart in your ears, focusing on the way your boots crunch the snow.

...Out of the corner of your eye, you can still see Arataka. His cheeks seem to... Redden, slightly, before he quickly shifts his eyes to the buildings to his side.

...That must be your imagination, right? There's no way he just... Blushed, right?

You hug yourself slightly, the cold getting a bit much. You really wish you hadn't brought just a thin jacket to keep yourself warm.

Rapidly clenching and unclenching your fists, you can feel your fingers almost fall off regardless of the mittens you wear.

You risk a glance at Arataka.

He seems to be doing fine, based on how he's acting: his hands in his pockets, his gait even... You gaze longingly at the thick coat he wears, and he notices this, grinning smugly.

"Finally regretting your choice of winter clothes, huh?"

You blush, huffing in annoyance as you shove your hands in your jacket's pockets.

"Oh, come on. I'm fine."

He hums uncertainly at your words, fixing you with a worried look for a moment before it's wiped off his face, replaced with indifference, maybe even annoyance.

"You should plan for the future more often. You need to think of all the ways things could go wrong, so that you can prepare for them before they happen and take you by surprise."

You roll your eyes at his words. Of course he'd use this as an opportunity to lecture you. He's always doing that.

"...I'm fine, Arataka," you repeat, flashing him what you think is a reassuring smile. Arataka just frowns slightly, his eyes searching yours for some reassurance.

...He doesn't fine any.

He's quick to hide it, though. What if he's overstepping his boundaries? What if he's being too concerned about you? What if you don't like him back?

He sighs in feigned exasperation, beginning to undo his coat.

"...Arataka. What are you doing."

Your tone is flat; unimpressed, as he slides one arm out of his coat, leaving the other in.

"...Making sure my beloved employee doesn't freeze her little fingers off, that's what."

He grins at you, a mischievous glint in his eye as he lays the side of the coat he isn't wearing onto your shoulder, shoving your arm in.

You scowl, but find your cheeks flushing. The warmth of his body pressed up against yours comforting, serving as a means to hinder the frigid cold that bites at your extremities. This is definitely a step up from just now.

It's not like he's deliberately pressing himself against you, he's just trying to share the coat, thats all. It's not like he's deliberately snaking his arm around your waist, he's just trying to keep you warm, making sure you're comfortable.

...It's silent again, the two of you walking together as one.

Your gaze is trained on the snow, the ice turning gold with the light of the setting sun as you crunch the snowflakes under your feet.

When you steal glances back to Arataka, you see his face disinterested. His eyes are empty, his expression neutral as he walks alongside you on the empty sidewalk, not meeting your gaze.

It's a little... Disheartening to see this, especially when he looks so attractive — the golden light of the sun reflecting in his dark brown eyes, half lidded; the dirty blonde of his tousled hair settling nicely above his eyebrows; his skin, almost glowing in the setting sun's golden rays.

He brings his eyes to meet yours as you stare at him, and you quickly avert your gaze, blushing.

You keep your eyes off Arataka once he notices you staring at him for the upteenth time, though it's hard to not cast brief glances back to him every once in a while.

You're getting a little more used to feeling his body pressed up against yours under the thick coat, your expression neutral, the blush gone from your cheeks — now only there because of the cold. You can sort of say you've calmed down now, your heart beat normal, your breathing even.

Arataka, though he appears to be calm, is freaking out.

He struggles to keep his breathing even, fighting to ignore the rapid beating of his heart, trying to ignore the butterflies he feels in his stomach.

You played along when he teased you, you didn't argue when he started to share his coat, you didn't say anything when he put his hand around your waist—

...Should he try... It, now?

You reach your little flat, and you thank Arataka for walking you back as you slip his coat off your arm. You're more than a little disappointed to leave his side, missing the body heat already as you begin to climb up the stairs.

...Before you can get too far, though, Arataka is following you up.

"...Arataka?"

You arch a brow at him when you reach your floor.

"Oh, come on," he says, a grin in his voice as he leans in close, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath ghosting on your face.

"You're definitely still cold."

He tilts his head slightly, and as his half-lidded eyes fall to your lips, he speaks in a voice smoother than a heated knife through butter.

"...I could help you with that."

Your cheeks flush. He's not... Asking to kiss you, is he?

You nod in response.

Arataka's grin widens, and he leans in...

Before abruptly pulling away, quickly undoing the scarf around his neck and throwing it in your face. It falls into your hands just as he's sprinting to the stairs.

"You should plan for the future more!" He calls from the stairwell, his voice echoing as his heels click with each step he takes.

"You'll catch a cold!"

You stare at the green scarf in your hands, the fabric soft as it tumbles between your fingers.

Arataka's scarf.

[writtenbymoonflower]

hello! love love love ur writing! would love to see more of james (or sirius/remus i dont discriminate 🤭) and physical affection! any prompt you like. only if you want ofc!

Hi Hunny! Thank you so so much. I will take any excuse to write about my loverboy. I hope this is okay!

James x gn!reader, kind of shy!reader, tooth-rotting fluff.

cw: too cheesy, brief mention of smut, nothing graphic

750 words

“Angel! I’m home!” You couldn’t help but smile as you heard his bag drop against the wood floor. He put on the same antics every time he came back from sports practice, throwing his bag down on the ground (no matter how many times you say to put it on the bench), and yelling whatever pet name comes to his mind at that moment. He was always finding little honorifics to call you, he was just sweet like that. You heard the heavy thumping of his socked feet as he ran down the hall into your living room. 

“Hi Jamie! How was practice?” You beamed at him. He was really pretty like this, his curls were damp and his face was flushed. He looked cozy in his sports hoodie and black sweats.

“It was good, we ended a bit early so I got a shower in the change room.” You believed that. He smelled strong of his woodsy cologne. “How was your day, Baby?” You put the book you were reading down to give your boyfriend your full attention, still careful to mark the page. 

“It was good. I did some studying and some work but I mostly just sat here doing nothing.” You smiled up at him and chuckled. “I should start working on dinner soon though, what do you want to have?”

“You.” He said, deadpan. But it only took three seconds for him to break and start giggling, too satisfied with his joke. 

“Jamie,” you chided. “Pick something real to have.” You rolled your eyes and shook your head, but you were still smiling, somehow still endeared by his usual antics. 

“You look pretty real to me, Angel. But I guess it wouldn’t hurt to check.” You had little time to figure out his meaning when he launched himself over the arm of the couch to lay on top of you. You squealed as he tugged your hips down, forcing you to lay flat against him. 

“Baby! I’m real, but I’m not real food.” You reasoned, not hesitating to thread your fingers through his hair. You weren’t always the best at initiating contact, but when James did, you couldn’t stop. You started gently scratching his scalp, attempting to calm him, but he was determined in his teasing. Despite your words he started frantically pressing open-mouth kisses all over your face. 

“You may not be real food,” He said in between his loving attacks, “But you do taste good.” He grinned at you, too satisfied with himself. 

“Jamie,” You sighed, giving up discouraging him. Noticing your surrender, he pushed himself up, still over you and looked down at your face. His big, brown eyes bore into your soul, making you squirm under his gaze. 

“There you go,” He grew even more satisfied. He was the nicest boyfriend ever, but he did take joy in making you go all shy underneath him. “There’s my baby.” He pressed another kiss to your forehead. His voice grew quieter with you being so close to him. “Finally letting me love on you without turning into a mess.” Ironically this made you even more flustered, but being as kind as always, James chose to ignore it. 

“I love you.” You smiled shyly at him. 

“I love you too, Angel.” He said back at you. He glanced over to the side table. “What are you reading?” 

“O. Henry short stories.” You moved your fingers to the curls at the nape of his neck, still being just as loving. 

“Read some to me?” He looked at you hopefully. 

“You’ll be bored, they’re not really your style.” You leaned your neck up to kiss his cheek, and he rewarded you with a smile. 

“But you’re my style, and I like it when you read to me.” And you couldn’t say no when he was looking at you like that. As soon as you nodded he set about fixing you both, you leaning against the arm of the couch, book in hand. He laid with his lower legs hanging off the opposite end of the couch and his face nuzzled against your lap and tummy. 

“Okay, which story do you want to hear?” You let your free hand roam over his broad shoulders and back, knowing they were probably tensed and ached from his practice. 

“Whichever, Angel. Just let me lay here and listen.” He was being equally as feely with you, grabbing and gently pinching your hips and thighs while you started your story.

[skipper1331]

For the better // Esme Morgan

a/n: based off this request. Hope you like it.

Esme was the love of your life.

She was sweet, loving and the most caring person you knew. She supported and loved you unconditionally - or so you thought.

The last few weeks, Esme‘s love felt distant, she kept her distance.

She did cuddle you at night and she did kiss you every time she could but each time it felt like it would be the last time you would feel her lips against your own. There was a certain sadness in the air, but you didn’t know why nor did you push her to talk to you. She would talk to you when she’s ready.

-

You sat in the living room, watching some random tv show as you heard the door open. Shortly after, the tall blonde entered the door you were sat in, "hi" you smiled, puckering your lips.

Something was wrong. Esme‘s eyes were red and puffy, did she cry?

"Hey, what‘s wrong?" you asked, leaving your seat from the couch as you took the few steps towards the defender. Your hands cupped her cheeks, thumbs caressing it softly, "you can talk to me" you whispered. She inhaled sharply, eyes closing as she leaned down, her hands gripping your waist, pulling you close.

She kissed you like you were her forever.

She kissed you like you were the love of her life.

She kissed you good bye.

Tears streamed down her face as she tried to contain herself, it‘s for the better. I‘m doing this for you.

You felt it, this wasn‘t a kiss because she was sad. She was about to do something, wasn‘t she?

"Esme…" you whispered as you took a step back, eyes wide.

You felt your heart break even though she didn‘t say anything yet, you could tell what was about to come - you‘d watched enough of romance-sad movies.

"I‘m so sorry" she apologized, "I want to break up" her own heart broke into thousand of pieces while saying those horrible words.

Shock was written over your face as hurt flashed through your whole body, "why?" you rasped, eyes getting blurry, tears about to fall.

She avoided eye contact, staring at the ground as her head hung low - in shame.

After a few broken seconds of silence, she spoke again, "I should go"

It only made you angrier, storming over, you grabbed her wrist, "look me in the eyes and tell me you don‘t love me anymore"

Both of your faces held so much emotions but one was the same: the world had just crashed down on you.

Never in a million years, you would‘ve thought that Esme would break up with you - not after 5 years.

Never in a million years, Esme would‘ve thought that she would break up with you.

You loved her.

She loved you.

Easy - yet she couldn‘t be with you anymore. It‘s for the better.

"I can‘t" she stated firmly. Your shoulders sagged, you had lost hope. If that‘s what she really wanted, you would support her - even if it broke your heart. If it‘s for the better.

Taking your chin between her thumb and index finger, she pressed one final kiss to your forehead.

I am sorry.

And I do love you.

-

Your once shared flat felt no longer like home. It felt weird to lay in bed without Esme, to know that she wouldn‘t come back - that she wouldn‘t join you. You were wide awake, wondering what the was blonde was doing at the moment. If she missed you the way you missed her? You had no energy to cry as you already cried the whole evening. What did you do wrong?

-

With dark circles under the eyes you went to training, your eyes looked swollen, noticeable for everyone. It was clear that something had happened because Esme looked the same. Both of you looked tired and exhausted, like neither of you had a minute of sleep which was the case.

So while Esme stayed at Hempo’s and Chloe’s side, you never left the Aussies sides, Mary and Alanna cheering you up. Well, at least they tried to.

At the end of training, you had lost all your patience, motivation and passion.

City did no longer feel like home. Manchester did no longer feel like home.

Esme was your home.

-

"Tommy?" you whispered into the phone, your manager answering with "yeah?"

The past week was horrible. To see Esme every day broke your heart in more and more pieces. You stopped leaving of your flat if not necessary, you ditched plans with friends - most of the time you sat in the living room crying while you ate ice cream and watched Glee. You didn‘t know what Esme was up to or where she lived, all you knew was that you didn‘t want to be in Manchester anymore, let alone the same country.

"I’ll do it" you told him, not much thought behind it.

You wanted to leave and you did.

As the season came to an end and the transfer window opened, you were the first to sign somewhere you always wanted to sign.

FC Barcelona.

It took you one week to get to leave Manchester.

You didn‘t say good bye to your friends and team mates, you just left the City and country.

It was your way of escaping the pain, your heartbreak.

It‘s for the better.

-

Barcelona as the club and as the City was amazing. Your new team mates greeted you with open arms and made you feel more than welcome. You settled in quite well, you stuck to your national team mates, Keira and Lucy, though. They helped you to furnish your new flat - not a picture with Esme anywhere.

It was Lucy who brought her up one day as the two of you sat in a little café. The og lioness had always been like a sister to you, she had taken you under wig the moment you joined City and the senior lionesses squad. She knew something was off, Keira had noticed it too, the way your smile never reached the top, your eyes not shining the way they used to. The sparkle was missing - the sparkle Esme was responsible for.

"So you alright, kid?" the defender asked as she sat across from you, sipping her coffee.

"No" you answered straightforward, munching on your panini.

"Esme?-"

"Broke up with me" you took a large sip of your drink, avoiding eye contact at every cost. If you looked at Lucy, you would’ve broke down in the middle of the day. Which did already happen a lot more often than you would‘ve liked, you just couldn‘t help it. Everything remind you of Esme: sometimes it was a song, the pictures on your phone or you just missed in her in general. It didn‘t make any sense. Why did she break up with you? It was the question that kept you awake at night.

"Did she tell you why?"

"No, she said fucking nothing" you spat, getting angrier by each second that went by. "I left the second I could. I couldn‘t stand seeing her" you admitted in a low voice, some tears streaming down your face, "It‘s like I can’t breathe anymore and I don‘t know what do to"

Wordlessly, the lioness stood up and took the a seat next to you, her arms going around your shoulders as she pulled you close.

"I‘m sorry"

Nothing more was said as she held you, tears wetting her shirt.

-

Being in the starting line up made you nervous - debut time.

With the Barca crest on your chest you felt so much pride. You did it. You made your childhood dream come true.

The game went amazing, you played phenomenal, the way you could link up with the girls, create chances and even score a debut goal was pure class. You celebrated like you usually would, a celebration Esme requested ages ago for you to do one time - you did it every time since then.

And maybe it was wrong to do so, she wasn‘t your girlfriend anymore, she wasn‘t even a friend, she was- well, nobody. Somebody you used to know.

Fuck that.

She was everything.

She was still the love of your life.

She would forever be the girl of your dreams.

She was fucking everything.

Unknown to you, the tall blonde stood in the stands of the stadium. She watched you shine while she wore your lionesses jersey. Everything you did, she watched with heart eyes, a proud smile displayed on her face as she cheered for you proudly. You did it. She couldn’t be prouder.

Barcelona made you glow and grow.

It was indeed for the better.

-

International break.

Something you hadn‘t thought about. When Sarina called, you didn’t say no. Of course not. You loved to represent England and the lionesses were a big family - your family.

As the days went the by and camp got closer, your heart went crazy. Your thoughts were consumed by Esme. Like always.

Esme.

You would lie, if you said you didn’t look at old pictures of the two of you.

You would lie, if you said you didn‘t cry yourself to sleep.

You would lie, if you said you didn‘t love her.

She used to be your best friend, soulmate and girlfriend, you were miserable without her.

Don‘t get me wrong, you went out with the Barca girls, they were a bunch of goofballs which you loved but your other half was missing. There was no one you could tell about your day, whether it was good, bad or just boring.

The thoughts just stayed inside of you.

Your bubbly side was missing. The transfer was a great decision for your career, you became the best version of yourself as a football player but as a human, you were the worst version of yourself. In no way, you were rude or mean towards anyone - it was just, the sparkle that was missing.

Lucy could sense your shut down. The way you gripped the seat in the plane, your eyes drained on the seat in front of you, burning holes into it as your jaw was clenched, veins popping up.

Esme.

-

Arriving at St. George’s Park was interesting. Lucy was engaging you in a conversation, talking about Barcelona as you stepped into the facility. What you failed to notice, thanks to Lucy, was that just minutes earlier the City girls had arrived. Esme was standing next to the much smaller Lauren Hemp as they turned around.

The tall blondes breath hitched, you looked breathtaking. Everything Chloe said fell to deaf ears, her only remaining focus: you.

Feeling eyes on you, you turned your head away from Lucy to see the City girl.

"Esme" you breathed out, suitcase dropping out of your hand as it clattered to the ground. Inaudible, you gulped, breathing quickening. She looked beautiful. Mixed feelings rushed through your body: relief, anger and anxiety.

You felt relieved to see her after what felt like ages - finally able to breathe again.

It made you angry to see her, standing there like that and looking pretty.

And then you felt anxious. Should you say hello? No, right? She broke up with you - not the other way around. The City girls, did they hate you? You left without another word, they were your friends too. Nobody knew you left, not until City announced your leaving and Barcelona announced your signing.

You wanted to cry, to be honest. Your whole world crashed down again. She was only a few meters away from you and yet it felt like she was on the other side of the world.

From strangers to friends, friends in to lovers and strangers again.

Lucy cleared her throat to bring you out of your trance, the blonde still having you wrapped around her finger even without doing anything. But what did you expect? You loved her and some months were definitely not enough to get over her, nor would be a year. It was Esme, your sweet girl.

Caught off guard, you grabbed your suitcase, mumbling something before you walked away. The facility, a place you knew well enough.

"Wait up" Lucy called, pulling her suitcase with her as she jogged in your direction.

"Do you still think it was for the better?" Lauren asked, "she looks so heartbroken."

Esme ignored her as she fought against her own tears.

You weren‘t the only one who had to deal with a heartbreak. Just because Esme was the person who actually ended it didn‘t mean she enjoyed it. She loved you. She loved you the same as before and she‘ll forever do so.

She did for you. It‘s for the better.

-

You didn‘t interact much with Esme and if you did, only on the pitch. It already hurt enough knowing she was there, but not yours.

She was your colleague now.

-

It seemed like Sarina hated you, pairing you up with Esme all the time. Of course that wasn‘t the case, the blonde defender and you had just so much chemistry on the pitch. You work together like an oiled machine which you hated.

You hated that you were still the same old duo.

You hated that she crossed passes to you like nobody else could.

You hated that you still loved her.

Though, both of you stayed silent while doing the drills.

colleague nothing more.

-

Back in your room, you fell on the bed, your roommate somewhere in facility. You felt physically and mentally exhausted.

As a soft knock was heard, you sat up, did she forget her key card?

Opening the door, you were met with a sight you didn‘t expect, "hi…" the tall girl said.

Anger floated through your body as you wanted to slam the door. You didn‘t. Instead you asked monotonously, "what do you want?"

She winced at your tone, so foreign.

"I‘m sorry- I didn‘t know why I came" she muttered, turning on her heels.

"You broke up with me" you stated, stepping in the hall. The defender stopped, "I did" she answered.

"Why?"

"Because it‘s for the better. Have a good night, y/n" with that she left, yourself feeling angrier than before.

It’s for the better, really? What kind of answer was that?!

-

You did not cry that night, your clenched jaw prevented it - your anger prevented it.

As soon as you woke up the next day, your anger was back and higher than before. You just wanted one reason why she broke up with you, so you could start healing.

It angered you to see her at breakfast - smiling.

It angered you to see her on the pitch - on the same team as you.

Everything she did angered you.

And suddenly you snapped.

It was just the two of you left in the changing room, the other girls already heading to dinner. As Esme was about to walk out, you marched over, blocking the door.

"No"

The blonde looked confused, what was going on? "No. Tell me why you broke up with me" your index finger poked her chest angrily as you took some steps forwards, the defender walking backwards. "After 5 years, Esme" a tear rolled out of your eye as she wanted so desperately to wipe it away. "You threw me away like I was nothing, like we were nothing."

"Don‘t say that" she whispered, closing her eyes to hold back the tears.

"But you did!" you shouted, angrily wiping away the tears that streamed down your face. Grabbing your wrists gently, she pulled your hands away, "you‘ll hurt yourself" and it broke you.

In the middle of the changing room, you started crying like you did the nights before you left Manchester and like you did the nights in Barcelona.

"Don‘t fucking touch me" immediately she dropped your hands, mumbling an apology.

Taking a deep breath, "I heard you talking" she said while sitting down at a random cubby.

"with whom?"

"Tommy"

-

Tommy and you sat at the dinner table, notes splayed across the table as his laptop was there as well.

"These are the offers" he told you as he leafed through the folder, "and that‘s the best" opening something on his screen, your eyes stopped at the club logo.

Barcelona.

"They want you"

Your eyes went wide, Barcelona wow. They‘re amazing, big fan ever since you‘re little. "They want you now"

He started talking about the contract, your salary, game appearances and more.

He simply talked you through every stage of the contract, their thoughts about signing you, every detail they stated in their document.

Two hours later, he leaned back in his chair, "it‘s now up to you if you want to do it"

"It would be amazing, wouldn‘t it?" you mumbled, biting on your lower lip. That‘s what you always wanted.

Barcelona. The best.

But that was before you met Esme, the girl of your dreams. "It would be perfect for your career"

"Do I have time to think about it?"

"They want an answer at the end of next week. Do you have doubts?" he asked kindly.

Over the years, Tommy became much more than just being a manager - a friend.

"I don‘t know. I‘d love to play there but City is my home. Esme is my home" you told him, fingers massaging your temples.

"You’d give up this of an opportunity for her?"

You looked at him - answering without hesitation, "yes"

"Okay" nothing more was said, he respected your answer and he understood that you had to think about such a decision, "call me when you have an answer."

-

"You would‘ve said no" she told you, her hand wiping over her face, "and I couldn’t let that happen"

"so you broke up with me because- " you connected the dots, realization hitting you like a truck.

"Well, I thought if I broke up with you, you would sign that contract. The thing you always wanted" she shrugged her shoulders, her only ever intention was for you to follow your dream - the dream you had since you were a little girl. Who was she to stop you from living it?

"You’re an asshole!" you yelled, marching the locker room up and down, "do you know what you put me through?!"

The defender stood up, your rapid movement stressing her out and her own anger slowly bubbling up, "i did what was the best for you!"

"Fuck you" you spat.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you would‘ve said yes"

you couldn’t.

"Thought so"

"You had no right to break my heart like that!"

"I had no other choice! I didn‘t want to be the reason you didn‘t fulfill your dream!"

Grumbling, you stood up with new anger, hurt and confusion.

"I did it because I love you! I love you more than anything and to think that you would miss the opportunity to- to play alongside Alexia Putellas, Aitana Bonmatí and so on, for me, frustrated me. You have to think about yourself first-"

"You love me?" you cut her off, heart feeling so many emotions as your body felt so confused and mind was spinning.

"I never stopped"

"Esme…"

"You don‘t need to say it back- well, um actually, it would be okay if you don‘t love me anymore. I get it-"

You couldn’t stand it anymore - to think that you didn’t love her. After everything, there wasn‘t a day where you didn‘t love her. Your body, soul and mind was consumed by Esme. She was the love of your life. So you just kissed her. Your lips pressed desperately against the blondes, hands cupping her cheeks as her hands found your waist. She gasped into your mouth, caught off guard. There was nothing sweet about this kiss - Esme and you mostly shared the most sweetest kisses but not now. Not after everything. The kiss was rough, anger and frustration purred into one another, yet the both of you happy to feel each others touch again.

"I love you, you idiot" you muttered between more kisses.

With the need of oxygen, she pulled away, resting her forehead against your own, "do you?" big wide eyes looked at you, so much hope behind the orbs - the orbs you hadn‘t seen in so long.

"I do" you purred, playing with her baby hair, "you hurt me though"

She nodded slowly, her hands still around your waist, afraid you would disappear, "I need time"

She hummed, mumbling apology after apology. She never meant to hurt you, she just wanted you to be happy.

-

"I love you so much" Esme mumbled, pressing featherlight kisses along your jaw, stopping an inch above your lips, "you‘re so beautiful" gently, interlocking your lips, she kissed you good morning, the Spanish sun shining in your bedroom.

The last two weeks of the off-season Esme was in Spain visiting you and before that, the both of you visited Greece as you enjoyed your holidays together.

After a year, things were thankfully back normal. Neither of you could stay away from each other and after the day in the changing room, many conversations followed and your trust was slowly built up again.

This was Esme we were talking about, the sweetest girl in the world who no bad cell in her body and was always thinking about you.

Like before your break up, she took you out on dates - it didn‘t matter that she was in Manchester and you in Barcelona, she called you every day to ask how your day was and when she visited you or the other way around, you spent the day in the best ways possible: going out, playing mini-golf and so on. Esme had many cute little date ideas.

And after that year, where trust was earned back, love got stronger and missed kisses were shared, she asked you to be her girlfriend. To which you obviously answered with yes.

You loved Esme.

Esme loved you.

The way she handled things was wrong but you understood her - she wanted you to be happy and to be honest, she was right: it was for the better.

Your prime time was, is and will be at Barca, till the end of the line.

You would‘ve regretted it if you had said no.

So maybe your break up wasn‘t the worst thing. For sure, you never felt that much pain in the time of your break up ever before and you never want to experience something like that again but after all, Esme tried to push you in the right direction - to help you. She had no bad thought in mind, just what was the best for you.

And back strong again, one day not your surname will be at the back of your Barca jersey but Morgan.

It was indeed for the better.

————————

[77gigabytes]

Under the Same Sky {Sylus x Reader}

You guys loved A Moment of Rest so much more than I could ever have thought >///< Thank you so much ♥ ♥ ♥

Hopefully, you enjoy this one as much as I did hahaha.

I accidentally spun Sylus around on the home screen and saw the stars through the window in the background XD. I immediately thought of stargazing.

-Seven

|| Masterlist ||

It all started with a meteor shower

“Sylus~” You sing and loop your arm around his, “I heard there’s going to be a meteor shower tonight!” You look up at him with expectant eyes

but he merely raises a brow and says, “Oh?”

You deflate a little at his unenthusiastic response, “Will you…” watch it with me?

You quirk your lips, would he do something as mundane as stargazing?

You clear your throat and even your tone, “Will you be watching it tonight?”

Seeing your internal dilemma, Sylus can’t help but smile a little, “I suppose don’t have any pressing matters to attend to, so…”

Your eyes twinkle at his revelation, “So, you’ll watch it?”

He chuckles a little, “Well,” he pets your head, “this excited kitten clearly wants to watch it, so how could I refuse?”

That night, the two of you laid upon a blanket and watched as the meteors painted streaks across the night sky

“Look!” You turn to Sylus with a bright smile

But the words die in your throat when you find that his gaze is already fixed on you.

The world stills for a moment.

From how close you are, you can see the stars reflected in his eyes.

You gravitate towards him, leaning ever so slightly closer.

Closer.

But stop yourself short.

The pinch of your clenched hands quickly grounds you to reality.

You clear your throat and shy away from his gaze “The stars are so bright from here.” You say as you look up at the sky once more

He hums in response , “I told you I knew the perfect spot to enjoy the scenery.” He lays back with a sigh.

“It actually reminds me of the city lights in Linkon.” This time you face him, and with a longing voice, you say, “I wish you could see it with me.”

From that night onwards, it became a common occurrence to watch the stars together.

Most nights, you would talk about your day or the missions you went on.

You would tell him everything, whether good or bad.

He listened to you as if he, himself, was there in those moments.

He listened and imagined a life where he could do all those things by your side. Without hiding.

Some days, you would stay awake long enough to watch the night sky fade into sunrise. A sign of a bittersweet goodbye.

But oftentimes, the light breeze against your face as you snuggled up against his side was more than enough to lull you to sleep.

Sylus would always let you fall asleep first. Waiting until your breaths evened out and your weight was completely rested against him.

Only when he felt the coldness of your cheeks would he carry you back inside.

He hadn’t outwardly admitted it, but being with you like this was the best start to his day.

One particular night, he had the blanket tucked around you, almost swaddling you to his side.

You wriggle one of your arms free from the blanket and reach up to the stars, “Do you think there’s another world out there?” You ask

“Even if there was,” He reaches up to your outstretched hand, intertwining them, “Don’t leave me here.” He draws your hands to his lips where he leaves a little bite against the back of your hand.

He quickly presses a kiss to the same spot, then guides your hand to lay flat on his chest, where he covers it with his own.

In this position, you can faintly feel the thrum of his heartbeat against your palm, “Do you…” You untangle your hand from his to lightly trace the length of his fingers, “Do you think in another life we’d still be stargazing together like this?”

He sits up slightly to look at you, using his forearm to hold his weight.

After a few beats of silence, he replies, “Even if our lives are as numerous as the stars,” he leans down to press his forehead against yours, “in every life,” the warmth of his breath fans against your cheeks, and your eyes flutter shut at his proximity.

“I will always stay beside you.”

His hand finds yours to give a gentle squeeze. Almost sealing those words against your palm.

It causes an unfamiliar ache in your heart. As if it was a whisper of a promise he’s made many times before.

He cups your face, coaxing your eyes open as he runs his thumb back and forth across your cheek, “No distance is too far so long as I decide it isn’t.”

As you hold his gaze, you’re met with such conviction in his eyes. It makes you want to believe he’ll cross leaps and bounds, galaxies even, to find you.

What could you possibly reply to such a profound yet sombre declaration?

At your silence, he leans away, letting out a slow sigh as he tucks an arm behind his head.

You unwittingly follow his movements and sit up to hover over him. Not wanting to break the distance between you.

The movement causes your hair to trickle down over your shoulder, casting a shadow across his face.

“Sylus, I —” Your words fall short on your lips.

With a tender gaze, he brushes the curtain of your hair behind your ear with a soft smile, “You’re so beautiful.” He says.

Ever so slowly, he inches closer. Leaning upwards to meet your lips in a sweet kiss.

Unaccustomed to the feeling, you break the kiss with a gasp, “Ah,”

But he’s quick to close the distance, and yet is still so gentle to press his lips against yours.

With your eyes closed, all you can focus on it the warmth of his lips against your own.

It makes your head swirl and you melt into him, “Mmf.”

With a firm hand to the small of your back, he steadies you, and without breaking the kiss, he leads you to lay down on the blanket.

In a daze, you lift your hand to grasp at the back of his shirt.

He cradles your head against his other arm, and languidly pulls away from your lips.

He lingers there for a moment before coming up to rest his cheek against your temple.

Your blood is thumping in your ears, but is silenced even as Sylus speaks barely above a whisper,

“There’s not a star in the sky I wouldn’t bring down for you. No world where I wouldn’t return to your side.”

Which one should I write first?

'Grassland Romance'-based story involving all the LaDS boys (will take much longer, probably a series? idk)

OR

2. Bandaging Sylus' wounds? (one-shot)

ALSO! I sent the Artsy bird emoji titled "Love Ya" to Sylus and LOOK AT HIS RESPONSEEEEEE!!!

SO CUUUUUTE

Thanks for reading! :3

-Seven

|| Masterlist ||

[amorchai]

Can you please do one with Jess and his long distance girlfriend?

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐒𝐒.

pairing(s): jess mariano x reader

word count: 877

warnings/tags: established relationship.

it had been a long five months without your boyfriend. going to university was good in the aspect of you striving for your dream, but bad in terms of leaving jess behind. you phoned each other every day, jess listening to you fall asleep by your notes when you’re too tired to study or move.

he was perfect. he always was. you loved hearing about every little part of jess’ day, how his book writing was going, what book he started reading, what he had for breakfast, what rate of anger was luke at today. it made you miss stars hollow, the people around but most of all jess who waited patiently for you to return.

christmas was in a few months, that was the next time you would see jess and you already had plans to spend christmas with him and luke, probably ended up with takeout food and movies before falling asleep on jess’ flat bed.

however, due to a cancellation of next week’s classes you immediately sought out returning home. jess was confused why you were rushing on the phone that very morning, little did your boyfriend know you were running around for last minute pieces to catch the bus home in time.

even the smell of stars hollow air smelt different than the university air, less metallic, more fresh and inviting. it was the transition period from summer to fall, and there was a few orange leaves starting to show through the green trees.

your suitcase bumped against the cracks of the grey concrete, trudging down the church street until luke’s café was finally in view. the little yellow coffee cup symbol waved in the light breeze and you could feel your feet picking up speed as you came closer and closer to the shop.

the dime of the doorbell was a bittersweet feeling, something you had missed but was oh-so-familiar to hear. luke glances up with a fixed glare from behind the counter, taking kirk’s order – double-taking when he notices it’s you.

his gaze softens, “y/n…” he trails off, notebook in hand faltering causing the tea towel laying over his shoulder to fall to the ground.

“y/n!” he repeats, more upbeat this time. “you’re home?” he’s smiling as you walk towards the counter, pulling your scarf and jacket from your frame to sit atop your waiting suitcase.

“only for the week,” you respond before glancing at kirk who waits for you to notice, “hi y/n,” “oh hey kirk, how are you?” you ask, lips in a thin line as stares, “i would be much better if luke would give me the menu back.”

you glance at your boyfriend’s uncle, who sighs, “he’s been sitting staring at it for half an hour, can you blame me?”

you look around amongst their bickering, no sign of the brunette you’ve came specifically for. tables filled of people, some you don’t know and you’re also surprised there’s no gilmore in sight.

“he’s outside, by the square.”

‘hm?’ you hum, turning around to see luke’s nod to outside his shop, and you’re immediately heading for the door.

as soon as you cross the street, you catch sight of him. jess sits underneath a tree, screaming children around while he chills with his notebook and pen, his newest addition of ‘the magic mountain’ by thomas mann lying beside him itching to be read. 

jess’ eyes wander, as if he can sense someone looking, and his eyes scan the town before meeting your gaze. you laugh as you watch him, his furrowed eyebrows digging deeper before he processes that you’re actually here – as if he was figuring out if he was dreaming or not.

“y/n?” jess says in disbelief. closing his notebook and setting it aside before standing up, “there’s no way.” you start walking towards him but jess immediately starts jogging over, his hands cupping your face to look at you before pulling you in for a well-awaited hug.

he has you on your tip-toes, hands splayed across your back as you welcome jess’ hug with your own tight squeeze. he smells so good, better than you can even remember, the woody cologne alongside books and a hint of cigarettes.

“what are you doing here? is everything okay?” jess asks, pulling away to look at you again, but keeping you as close to him as possible. “everything’s fine, class is cancelled so thought i’d surprise you!”

“oh my g…” jess trails off, eyes scanning your features as if he’s trying to memorise them before leaning in for a kiss. it felt like home, something you’ve gravely missed the feeling of. his soft lips pulling you deeper into his embrace that you don’t even care you’re in the middle of the town square.

but jess pulls back too soon, “how long are you here for?” jess asks, hands moving around your body to reach for your hands and your body shivers at the feeling. “until next sunday,” you reply, watching as his eyes lighten up, “god, ‘ve missed you.”

you squeal when he pulls away from another kiss to nuzzle your neck, the tickling feeling having you pushing against his light jacket as jess chuckles amusingly. “lemme grab my stuff and we’ll grab a coffee, okay?”

“sounds good, jess.”

amorchai masterlist . taglist

amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[multixnichols]

Hiya would you possibly do a Nicky x reader where they have both just got out of prison and they are living together. And Nicky goes out with some old friends and they offer her heroin and it like triggers her in a way so she goes home and starts to have a panic attack and the reader has to calm her down and then they end it by cuddling on the sofa. Thank you ☺️☺️☺️

it's been so long since i wrote anything but i hope you enjoy this and thank you for sending a request <3

—nicky x fem!reader, all fluff, english is not my first language so there might be some bad english too

She's been at home for thirteen minutes. And she's quiet. Unusually quiet. See, Nicky is not one to usually dwell on things, despite everything she's been through she always tries to talk with you when something bothers her. But now she's just sitting on the sofa, staring blankly at the tv.

"Since when do you watch 'Keeping Up With the Kardashians', Nichols?" you say humorously, settling next to her.

It takes her a moment to lift her gaze at you, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. And then she smiles, but it's not her usual cocky smile, it looks strained.

"Ah, y'know, sometimes i like watching people with real problems. It's good for the heart." comes her raspy voice as she scoots closer and wraps her arm around your shoulders, her body warm as the smell of her conditioner washes over you.

That earns a quiet laugh from you, your hand resting affectionately on her thigh.

You study her face for a moment, deciding that something is definitely off. She looks pretty today, her blonde hair a wild mane as always, the dark makeup around her eyes and those shapely lips you get to kiss every day. But her eyes look almost sad.

"How was the meeting with your friends?" you say softly and all you receive is silence.

Nicky's eyes glaze over, her breaths coming a little faster which she tries to hide by letting out a soft sigh. Though her attempts fall flat because now you can also see her hands trembling.

She doesn't say anything, just presses herself tighter against you to ground herself.

"Talk to me." you encourage softly.

You know the answer before she even says it. Nicky is not the kind of person to panic over nothing, not usually. And she was very hesitant to go out with her old friends in the first place considering how their friendship was always fuelled by drugs. But with your support she decided it wouldn't hurt to at least give it a shot.

Which she regrets now.

"They proposed me heroin." she murmurs, so quietly, that you have to strain your ears to actually hear her.

Instead of speaking you move to wrap your arms around her, because if there's something you learned with time is that sometimes Nicky doesn't need words but a simple touch to soothe her.

"It was– fuck, it was so hard. But i didn't take it. I swear i didn't. I thought i will but–"

"Okay." you cut her explanation quickly because she doesn't need to explain herself. You understand. You know she has enough self-restraint to not fall onto that hole again.

Her face softens as if relieved you believe her. As if she expected you to argue with her, accuse her. Nicky's not used to this kind of trust. Noone ever trusted and cared for her like you do.

"Now take a deep breath for me, okay? I'm proud of you" she quickly listents to you, taking in a shaky breath, her eyes clearing once more as a small smile grows on her face.

But it's not your voice or your gentle encouragment that eases her growing panic. No, her thoughts are on somethong else entirely.

You're proud of her.

Nicky let's out a relieved laugh, the light coming back to her eyes as she moves to lovingly pinch your cheek.

"Proud of me, eh?" comes her teasing, but also very much delighted, tone "Didn't know you were such a simp."

You laugh again, swatting her hand away from your cheek playfully, before bringing her down to lay on the sofa, her head resting against your chest.

"Man, i can't believe i get to sleep in those tits." she rasps out, her hand slipping under your t-shirt to squeeze at the soft skin of your waist, her nose intentionally burried in between your breasts.

Nicky's eyes close and she let's out a happy sigh, simply cherishing your presence.

She got seriously scared today but it's all right in the world if you're there to support her.

—

[toskarin]

THE WAY OF ALL FLESH 《万人の途》

You need not hurry, We've got all the time in the world.

My memory has failed sadly of late.

He is violently pessimistic.

It is wildly unlikely.

There is all the difference in the world between the two.

make an unholy fuss about very little.

Dear me! What a sorry mess everything is in!

The painting is a rank imitation.

a gross mistake.

a crushing bore.

with no earthly reason.

be crass ignorance.

every trick in the book.

They have all the advantages in the world.

go native. go bust.

The proposal came one vote short of unanimous approval.

I can't reach the buttons on the back. Will you do them for me?

So many movies have had this plot that it has been done to death.

Things don't go so well in real life.

It will go hard with him if he is found out.

It makes no difference no matter which way the election goes.

some people still can go without paying taxes.

look full in the face.

The sun shone in our faces.

One and one makes one.

These make a pair.

make the passing mark.

The seal is missing on the document.

The lace on one of my shoes had god undone.

I wouldn't want to be quoted on this.

I'm not much on putting those things into words.

be short on imagination.

It seems he got mixed up on his instructions.

Who is going to take you up on your offer!

He erred grossly on that problem.

a toy balloon on a string.

a dog on a chain.

be a black mark.

He is the sort of man whose personal charm grows on you on acquaintance.

Wherever did you put?

It was a good joke, but fell flat on him.

The mood grew on me.

My mind was not on it.

be borne in on one.

Shame on you!

an experiment on animals.

It is too late to perform an operation on him.

You ought to be harder on him.

Acids act upon metals.

It is unfair on you.

His voice grates upon my ear.

The drinks are on me.

Do you know you are taking a great deal on yourself?

Don't tell on me.

She seems to have something on him.

play a neat trick on a person.

get die on a person.

They have nothing on us.

Age has begun to tell on me.

No use trying to pull such a trick on me.

be on trial.

He is unable to hold anything on his stomach.

The scene was on.

I lay awake thinking over it all last night.

I had to rack my brains over that problem.

She hesitated over her answer.

ride roughshod over the objection.

Don't pull that line on me.

pull a sanctimonious face.

He never pulls his rank.

We are running short of gas.

Time is running short on me.

One's devil's luck runs out.

Finally she ran out of patience.

The watch has run down.

let one's imagination run riot.

run short of topics for conversation.

That is not the way the world is run.

run a machine at a high voltage.

run a person on a lie detector.

leave a motor running.

He stands small chance against you.

Kids run a high temperature over nothing in particular and snap out of it.

investigate a matter to the ground.

criticize severely.

You are worn to a shadow.

boring to distraction.

It has been done to death.

The bag was filled to bursting with sugar.

What are you seeing?

They were killed to a man.

It is done to a turn.

There is another side to the coin.

There's not enough depth to the story.

There is more to it than that.

There was no jerk to his motions.

That is about all there is to it.

The words had an ironical ring.

Have you any clue to work on?

The brakes refused to work.

The machine was still in fine working order.

The plan worked remarkably well.

It is very well in theory, but will it work?

His reason ceased to work.

Flattery will not work with him

It might work and again it might not work

I'm afraid it won't work so well.

Our plan worked successful.

The trick won't work with him.

The handle doesn't work.

The warning seemed to work most effectively.

Her face worked fiercely.

The screw had worked loose.

work a spear through one's hands.

They will work you to death.

He worked on a smile that didn't quite come off.

There is no knowing how that will work itself out.

This problem will not work out.

The safe opened to the key.

a ticket to a movie.

exit to applause.

The medicine worked into the wounded skin.

Oh! I'm inside out!

You are unzipped.

No stopover on this ticket.

try to enter a country on an expired passport.

I'll come again when you are free.

The question is who will bell the cat.

The fact that he was sick was not very impressive to her.

You asked for it.

untie a tight knot.

The girl couldn't word her feelings well.

Does he really mean it? I wonder.

Let him do his worst.

a would-be kindness.

Did she agree with you?

Turn your face toward me.

I don't think I can do it,but I'll try.

What is true of them is equally true of you.

They trumped up a charge to put him in jail.

Think it over carefully before you decide.

What are you talking about?

He bothered me with stupid questions.

Can it really be mine?

Don't calculate on me helping you.

No one called my attention to it.

Watch when you talk about religion.

You have the advantage of me.

They shouted to the utmost of their strength.

She never gave utterance to her personal feelings.

There were very few passengers in the train.

How much use did you get out of the machine?

It's not us that tried to upset their plans.

There was a chasm yawning in front of us.

Let me see,where was I?

Where did the plan go wrong?

work out one's idea of one's role.

To live is to suffer.

This is playing with words.

know what you mean.

What do you see?

You ought to have been more careful.

You need not have come.

Who do you think you are?

I have no idea what the word means.

ARRIVE ON THE EDGE

YOU RECAPTURED KARNEL OF THE LOST ARTICLE

AND THE ORDER IS TOTALLY OVER.

[look-a-yandere-fandom-blog]

Ahhh, would love a part 2 for reader/The Obsessed in the near future! There’s not enough yandere Shadow of War fics on this app or on any other platform! ❤️

Lingering Denial | Oneshot Continued

_________________________________

The Obsessed / Gender Neutral Reader

Fandom: Middle Earth: Shadow of War 

_________________________________

Romantic Yandere.

PT 1 |

_________________________________

Content Warning: Delusional/obsessive/possessive behaviour, violence, threats, blood, paranoia, mentions of stalking.

(If there’s anything else I need to add to these warnings, please let me know.)

Thanks for the request, anon! Totally agree on the lack of yandere SOW stuffs (though I have seen some great headcanons here on tumblr). That was what drove me to write the original oneshot, alongside a hefty dose of favouritism for the obsessed-

Speaking of the obsessed, I had a bit of fun with him in this one, specifically with putting him in a less-stabby-than-usual situation, something he doesn't get in the game as every time you run into an obsessed he's trying to kill you, or you to him...

Also because I couldn't deal with him being stabby all the time, as our reader is much more mortal than Talion, haha.

The idea of how he would act once he got what he wanted was an interesting one, so I hope that you enjoy reading as much as I did writing! :D

_________________________________

Finally, he has fallen asleep.

Head nestled into your shoulder, arms enveloping you like a cage. His expression calm, but his hold tight and selfish.

You refused to fall under before him. Even though your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, drained by stress, you dared not make yourself more vulnerable than you already were.

Ratak had been staring for hours. Wide eyes locked to your form. Memorising every detail, every dot, every scar. Mesmerised. A spell broken only by the orc's occasional mutterings.

Murmurs of glee, pent-up questions he had no opportunity to ask before, and comments about how different your human features were to his.

The latter left a bitter taste in your mouth. Those comments accompanied by a wandering gaze. Imagining what lay where his hungry eyes could not see, hidden beneath layers of clothing. Dreaming of the day he would be allowed to explore it.

But tonight, he is happy. Tonight, he is content with this. Side by side. Just you and him.

You can hardly believe your own predicament, as you consider what has led you here.

Back to the ground, sword to his chest, his forehead against yours.

It feels as though an age has passed since then.

The two of you trapped in a stand-off. Your motives so different, and his was unfathomable.

You could not understand how this orc had fallen for you, as he claimed, so suddenly. There was no logic behind it, no strategy, no benefit he could possibly gain by making you believe this.

Which led you to the truth: that he meant it. That he had built up this bonfire of obsession, allowed it to flicker and flame since you had first met. Until it was all-consuming, and impossible to stamp out.

But, even with that, you did not trust the hand around your neck. The glint in his eyes. The maddened longing that afflicted his every movement, his every lovingly vicious word.

And quickly you realised: despite his infatuation, he could kill you.

If pushed too far. If fought against. If he believed slicing your neck with his own claws was a better fate than letting you go, he would do it.

You knew he would.

So, you lowered your sword. The point removed from Ratak's chest.

Was it fear that caused your surrender? Or curiosity? You could not decipher it, breath caught in your throat, mind focused entirely on the blade in your hand.

You exhaled only when it was flat on the ground, sheathed by moss and grass.

"Hah... I knew you'd understand." Ratak spoke, disjointed teeth morphing into a pleased smile.

His hand left your neck, trailing down to the hilt of your sword.

"You'll be mine, and I'll be yours..."

You winced, cursing the world itself as he pried your hand from it, forcing you to let go of the blade. Betraying your instincts, you let the hilt fall from your fingertips.

The faint clink of its landing was nearly inaudible. To you, it was deafening.

Then, you were jostled.

Before you could come to terms with your decision, Ratak got to his feet, lifting you up into his arms with frightening ease. Held to the bloodstain adorning his chest, shallow and slowly drying.

"Right, my love?" He posited.

You did not answer. Luckily, he did not seem to care.

With a press of his cracked lips to your temple, he began to walk.

Emboldened by your surrender, the orc was more than eager to leave your sword, the symbol of your human allegiances, forgotten. Left behind with his helmet. Embraced by naught but dirt and worms.

You have no clue how long he walked for. The trees and grass and branches and rocks seeming to repeat endlessly. But Ratak's steps were sure. He knew where he was going.

And eventually, he wound up here. Where you now lay.

The room is one of dark, chipped, stone; it is hidden within the walls of a deserted fortress. Perhaps ransacked and half torn down, or perhaps half-built and abandoned. Regardless, a place that Ratak has made his own.

Laying in a makeshift bed of fur pelts and loosely-stitched fabric, the rest of the room aligns with the salvaged comforts. Furniture made of cobbled-together wood, bones, and leather are scattered about. The scene an echo of a home, but without the wear of being lived-in.

As your eyes trail over the same items for the hundredth time, you wonder if they were made specifically for your capture. The thought of him preparing this all, while you had been blissfully unaware of his stalking, sticks like a parasite.

How much had he seen while watching you? Was he always planning to bring you back here, willingly or not? Had he hoped, when alone here, that you would feel the same towards him?

You look to Ratak. A being made for violence, for battle, for bloodshed. To be a pawn of Lords and leaders greater than himself.

Yet he speaks of love so freely. His affection, albeit clumsy and abrasive, is affection nonetheless. Able to be dealt only by the violent hands he was moulded with. There is authentic emotion at its core, filtered through the brutal, bloody lens of obsession.

He is an enigma. A contradiction you cannot rationalise.

Of course, you consider the chance of simply asking him. Questioning what his infatuation spawned from or how he had made up this room seemed rather safe topics. Likely ones he would take pride in answering.

But, in spite of your wonderings, you do not wish to ask. Aversion overpowering intrigue. Nervous that, should you entertain him, Ratak would take it as an opportunity. An excuse. His lovesickness persuading him that your questions were signs of something deeper.

As you examine him, you notice that his arms have slackened. Sleep traitorously loosening his hold.

With a cautious shuffle, you attempt to drag yourself from his grip. Gradually, carefully. Cold air pricks your skin as the fur and fabric covers are shed. Ratak remains still.

You look to the door. It is bolted, rather excessively; metal rods and latches are attached to the wood, clear despite the poor light. There is risk in approaching it, but there is just as much in lingering here.

With another shuffle, you reach the edge of the bed. Your legs dangling off, unable to reach the floor from this height.

Then, about to descend, there is a sound from behind you. A groan, accompanied by the shifting of fabric.

You freeze like a startled animal.

Ratak is awake.

"Love?" He coos, eyes blinking open. Centring where you had been beside him. Now an empty spot.

Panic mars Ratak's expression as he shoots up. With frantic, half-focused, eyes he glances to and fro. Locking onto your figure as he spots you.

You are not where you should be, with your feet ever-so close to the floor. Too close.

He lunges, a snare set on its target, the action innate and impulsive. Arms snake around you, before yanking you to him.

A sigh echoes from above, the orc relieved, his human returned to his clutches. Where you should be.

All you feel, however, is on edge. This close, you are reminded of his size, his strength, how he looms over you like the sturdiest of mountains. Certain, powerful, and terribly stubborn.

"What were you doin' there, hm?" Ratak muses drowsily.

"I..." Your voice trails, caught unprepared. You try to keep your eyes on him, but you cannot help yourself.

A look is spared to the locked door. Only for a second. He follows it.

Ratak's brows furrow, creases forming in his skin as he reaches a conclusion. Unfortunately for you, it is the correct one.

"You want to leave..."

The adoring notes in his voice vanish. Swiftly replaced by snarls.

"You're trying to leave me, aren'tcha, love? You're tryin' to run away from me again."

Anxiety constricts in your stomach. Lying through your teeth, your voice is detached and firm.

"I am not trying to lea-"

"Don't you lie!" Ratak shrieks, shutting you up as he shakes with rage.

"Of course you're tryin' to leave! Can't bear being in my arms, is that it?"

Ratak's accusations continue. Nonsensical ramblings, as tangled and unintelligible as his proclamations of love.

"You're gonna run away from me... run back to bloody Gondor... let some filthy tark have you 'nstead of me!"

You wrack your mind, aware of just how dangerous he is right now. The last time he acted like this, you had your sword. But now, you cannot rely on its sharpened safety.

"I'll kill the bastard… lop his hands off for darin’ to touch you… make sure you can never leave me again...”

His hands twist and teem with threat. Yellow irises fogged over as he turns desperate.

Your time is running out. All he would need to do is fetch his axe from it's spot on the wall and...

An idea squirms into your mind. A horribly demeaning idea. It makes you feel sick. But nothing else would work. You have no weapon to threaten him with. Anger would not reach him, and neither would indifference.

"Never again… never ever again…”

In the end, there is nothing to lose.

You rest a reluctant hand on his forearm. Fingertips brushing along collections of aged scars. His accusations pause, puzzled.

Choking down the last shreds of your pride, you put on a softer voice. The voice of a lover.

"Please, Ratak..." The orc's name tastes like thorns on your tongue. "I did not intend to scare you... I am sorry."

"I am not leaving you, and I will not. I swear it."

Ratak's expression flickers, picking you apart.

He knows you are lying. Deep in the burrows of his mind, he knows. But as his chest flutters with the sensation of your palm against his flesh, he can hardly bring himself to care.

Your words are measured and gentle. Without animosity. Without distance. Speaking his name so tenderly. Reciprocating his affections. The hand that once held a blade to him is now comforting him.

Even if it is only an act, it is an act he wishes to drown himself in.

The orc's claws remain around you, burying into your skin like ticks, but his voice dims.

"No. You won't. You're meant for me..."

He sinks, no longer towering over you. Instead, he starts to slouch, head drooping as the night's exhaustion catches up with him.

"You wouldn't be happy with anyone else... Let alone some lousy tark..."

With a half-hearted chuckle, he lays down. You are dragged alongside him, caged once again.

"You love me. Not them." Ratak utters. Yet there is an uncertainty hidden within. An inflection you had not heard from him before.

"You love me..."

He whispers, and still, his uncertainty is not quite stifled. Searching for reassurance in the lines and dips of your face.

"Don't you, sweetness?"

With how closely he is watching, you cannot get away with silence. Your dignity burns before you as fatigue tugs at your resistance, begging you to give in.

Averting your gaze, ultimately, you answer.

"Yes. I... I love you."

He chuckles, genuinely this time. Euphoric to hear those words from you. Even if not a syllable is true.

As you yield to the sanctuary of sleep, you assure yourself. Someday you would escape here.

Someday.

But it would not be tonight.

Tonight, you and him lay together. Entangled in false vows and each other's arms. Sleeping dreamlessly.

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