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

[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

[alanisinstone]

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:)

[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.

[obeythebutler]

Could you write the Dateables protecting MC? :)

Dateables Protecting MC

WARNING: Violence, Spoilers for all the characters.

DIAVOLO

You're supposed to be safe here, Diavolo affirms.

He had R.A.D. established right in his domain, in his capital, so that demons could be civilised (at least according to human rules of morality) and some familiarity could be achieved.

Every professor in this institution had been nitpicked, each student noted on paper. Appropriate measures taken to ensure safety—no fighting, no ragging, no running around unnecessarily—but what can you expect from demons.

It's hard to keep nature bound in chains.

What Diavolo didn't fathom was that some demons would have the temerity to lay a hand on the human exchange student.

His eyebrows furrow as he stops, a reticent smile still on his face. The students in front of him freeze; in the middle of having their academic documents signed by him.

"Please excuse me," He says, looking down at the demons. "I have a meeting to attend right now. Give the documents to Barbatos, and I'll stamp them by tomorrow." The students nod, bowing before leaving the room.

Although he should wait at least long enough so that they are out of sight to avoid suspicion, Diavolo can't wait, won't wait—

The safety perimeters around the campus have been breached.

Normally Barbatos or Lucifer would have taken care of such a situation, but Lucifer is back home and his butler is currently torturing a painfully arrogant noble in the Underground Labyrinth.

And it's Diavolo's magic which had formed the protective barriers, so that the Prince would know the affairs going around his academy. If it were ordinary demons he would have ignored the warnings and let the Council Members handle it, but it's a human which has breached the boundaries.

And there's only one mortal human in the Devildom. Solomon would have teleported, not blatantly ignored the infernal magic in the air.

The students lingering in the hallway step aside when they see their Prince walking with a sense of urgency to him. Diavolo knows they will gossip about him later, rumours will spread, but when they have not?

He only hopes you are unharmed.

He rushes past the gardens, disturbing the soil and the plants there. Devildom canaries, which normally would have produced the melody that the President of the Student Council loved to listen to are absent.

From what he's taught and what he knows, silence is ominous.

The forest behind the academy constricts on itself, as if wanting to hide away itself from outsiders. Still, Diavolo ignores, and forces the branches to wring away from each other and for the dense foliage to give way.

Or else he will burn the place to the ground.

You stumble on the the uneven ground, finding that the wind isn't enough to protect you against fire. Damn those demon, you grit your teeth and resume enforcing your boundary, careful to not any of the flames singe your clothes, so flammable.

The being in front of you sneers before breaking the boundaries that you had just enforced.

Fuck.

Hastily you deflect the demon's attack, but the spell drains much of your human energy, and you fall on the stones below.

"I'd suggest you go back from whichever came you crept out from," You mutter, noticing the soil that clings to the demon's hands and legs. "Besides, things might not end well for you."

"Says the pathetic human dragging themselves on the earth."

He advances further, and your heartbeat quickens when you realise just how sharp his nails are. It reminds you of talons, like that one time you watched a human-world documentary with your demons about an eagle tearing into the flesh of a fish with their talons.

He swipes at you, and you manage to get up and turn in time to avoid a lethal blow, but you underestimate his agility.

The demon's foot collides into your back, and the force of it makes you fall flat on the ground. You groan, the pain intensified with your head banging on one of the rocks.

"Weak, pathetic human," He hums above you, and when you open your mouth to cast an incantation that will make your attacker be thrown two-hundred leagues into the vast forest, he steps on your leg.

Fuck. It hurts, it hurts, it fucking hurts—

There's a weight above you, and the fiend has now placed himself above you, and unfortunately for you demon biology dictates that demons be faster, stronger and heavier.

"Should have known better than to wander into the forest all alone," He mutters, and you feel his breath on your neck. "Lost, little lamb. Foolish human."

He sits up, his weight constricting your chest, rendering you unable to breathe properly.

"Where did your pacts go now, huh?" The demon taunts, scraping his nails against your back, and it draws blood. You hiss. "Where did the Avatars go now?"

Your hands come in contact with rocks. Small, jagged pieces, and you don't waste a moment further before throwing it above you.

From what you can deduce, one of the pieces has hit him right in an eye, given the way he spits and curses. "Insolent human!" A curse, and the sound of a snarl makes your blood run cold.

All words leave you in that moment. You freeze, expecting teeth to tear into your throat, but instead you feel the demon being hauled off your back.

"And to think one of my nobles would betray me this way."

A familiar voice, and when you are able to turn and be grateful to be able to breathe properly once again, you look up and see the fiend hanging in the air.

Diavolo, you can't help but mumble.

The demon's face is starting to turn pale, given the way the Prince is gripping him by his neck effortlessly. He struggles and kicks, but it's futile.

You've never seen Diavolo so angry before. The calm veneer he usually had has disappeared, replaced by furrowed brows and an anger that makes you tremble in fear.

Even the forest, which had seemed so constricting and so secretive earlier has opened up, as if for the rightful heir of the Devildom. Or maybe that's just his magic.

"You dare harm them?" A threat and a question, and you think you hear bones cracking.

But then Diavolo throws him down, rendering such a blow that the demon is rendered unconscious, lying haphazardly on the forest floor.

The Prince breathes in deeply, as if trying to contain his anger, and then he turns to you.

"Did he hurt you?"

"Was about to," You say, getting up with Diavolo's help. "Thanks," You say, as if it's a normal day in your life to be attacked by demons, but hey, that's what your life was in the House of Lamentation when you first came here.

You can't be blamed for being indifferent to some violence and threats on your life.

"How did you find me?" You ask as he checks you over for any injuries that may have gone unnoticed by you. "I thought I was sneaky."

"At the wrong time and at the wrong place." Diavolo breathes out, and you notice how his shoulders sag. "Certainly, a forest of all places to cause mischief? You could have been injured or killed."

"I know, Dia, I know," You say, dusting off dirt from your clothes. "I thought I was safe here."

"Well, a forest is not exactly a safe place to be in," He chastises, but places a hand on your shoulder all the same. "Why didn't you call for the brothers?"

You turn away, embarassed.

"Didn't want to appear weak," You pout, not quite able to meet his eyes. "But I think I should have—"

"What could have happened to you if I hadn't come on time?" Diavolo questions, and his tone is serious. Gone is the friendliness you're accustomed to from him. "Why did you sneak away?"

"I'm sorry. I just wanted a moment to myself, and there are so many restrictions as to where I can go about in the Devildom, I just wanted some peace." You apologise, hugging the demon. "I'll be more careful next time."

Diavolo breathes out, and then there are his own arms enveloping you, until you're pressed against him.

"I apologise too," A sincere apology, squeezing you softly.

There's only so much Diavolo can do too. He can enforce rules, regulations, punishments, but in the end, you can't change the perceptions of others so easily now, can you?

And Diavolo wants to be a just ruler. Unlike his father, who spurred by grief and hatred made his son what he is today, but Diavolo did not turn out like his father. The Prince doesn't want to repeat the sins of his predecessors.

He will work towards unifying the three realms, he affirms. He will work towards a world where you can roam around safe, where he and you can exist peacefully.

Diavolo vows as he holds you close.

And blame it on nature, but the demon can't help but drift his gaze towards the unconscious demon on the floor. Given lex talionis in Devildom law, it is only fair that a special chamber in the Underground Labyrinth be prepared for the perpetrator of such a grave offence.

BARBATOS

When the butler had embarked upon another pilgrimage to the port market, he was expecting to purchase some fresh tapir for dinner.

The Young Master has expressed a desire for it, and so went Barbatos to the market. And again, it gives him an excuse to procure more goods. The demon walks and walks, past Majolish with its alluring glitter and R.A.D. with its elaborate pillars. Students would be having their clubs around this time, and night shops being set up. He navigates past them with the ease of a man who has traversed these routes since millennia, and he would know them blind.

He knows he has reach the market when the scent of the sea greets him.

And like a man on a mission, the demon buys fresh tapir first. Freshly cut and stored, and takes care to avoid bumping into the other demons around. They know better than to anger their Prince's butler, with his enigmatic smile and polite mannerisms.

There's a special side devoted to human-world spices. Cinnamon, star anise, cumin, mustard, bay leaves.....and the list goes on.

Barbatos expects a crowd consisting of demons from various layers. He doesn't expect you.

You'd almost blend in, if not for the malice radiating from the lessor demon that is gripping your wrist with such tenacity that it is sure to leave bruises. Your expression is one of panic, brows furrowed and eyes widened, and the demon's a leer.

"What the hell," You hiss, attempting to pry yourself out of the iron grip the demon has you in. "Can't anyone in the Devildom just let me live in peace?!"

"Can't ever catch the human alone with those Avatars around. Always thought your soul would be delicious, and the fear radiating from you makes it even more delectable."

"I think you've had enough for today."

The demon turns their head in surprise, not having anticipated being called out in a crowd. And the smug expression on their face disappears when they realise that they've been caught by none other than Barbatos. The expression on their face changes briefly before being replaced by a calm veneer.

"Ah, Barbatos, should have known you were found of human goods so much."

"It would be in your interest to let go of them right now." A threat, spoken with a smile.

The being in front of him wanes briefly; but doesn't let go. You focus your gaze on Barbatos instead, and watch the man for any signal to act.

"And what if I don't?" The demon scowls, baring their canines. "What if I want to feast upon the human's soul?"

The butler smiles. "I'd like to see you try."

You realise that the market has now turned silent—the usual cacophony of vendors and customers bargaining has disappeared—replaced by an eerie silence. Demons are watching, and this situation puts more pressure on Barbatos and the demon to act. There's a circle separating you three from the crowd, and you think you hear a camera shutter going off somewhere.

It would be all over Devilgram by now.

When you catch the butler's eye, he nods, and you get the signal to act. You utter the words under your breath, and by the demon hears them, its too late.

".....spirit of wind, protect me."

They fall flat on the ground, an invisible barrier now separating you both.

"Fucking hell," They groan, getting up. "The human's more bold than I thought, huh?"

A clawed hand reveals itself, and the demon pounces.

You flinch, but find that the attack is not meant for you, but Barbatos.

....He's as cool as ever.

"Cat got your tongue?" He asks, having successfully thrown the demon on the ground with a swipe of his hand. "You were so arrogant before."

They attempt to stand, but they aren't able to. Their legs won't support their weight, and they're trembling so much—was that a paralysing spell?

The crowd watches, and no doubt that the demon is being recorded, or going live on the net right now, for everyone to see them humiliated. And it provides solid evidence of their crimes.

Demons know to stay out of the way of those more powerful. But some are foolish, undoubtedly so, and hence must learn their place.

It sometimes entails choking on bitter medicine.

There's a crackle of magic in the air, you recognise, after having been through countless lessons with Solomon. Something powerful yet subtle.

Barbatos.

Ah, so that is a result of his transformation into his demon form.

"You will be punished suitably, as your Lord deems fitting," He declares, letting his tail whip around in the air. "And the consequences will be severe."

His demon form is meant to bring his point home. No threats against you will be taken lightly. They will be met with the gravest of punishments, and sanctioned by the de-facto ruler of the Devildom.

"But I'll leave you here for a while—to ponder on your transgressions."

The demon can only protest, scream, cry, beg, but Barbatos will not budge. And even before they fear Barbatos, they fear public humiliation and punishment by the Avatars. They've heard of the time when the seven lords had strangled a group of incubi at the academy effortlessly, and it his perhaps his bad luck that they happen to be near Ristorante Six. Which is reserved for an event for the members of the student council today. How unfortunate.

"Did they hurt you?" Barbatos asks, expression neutral.

"I'm just a little shaken-up, that's all." You smile, attempting to convince the demon. "Couldn't help but feel a bit bad for the demon. Isn't leaving them like that too harsh?"

"Oh, not at all," He chuckles. "We demons are quite resilient, you see. What a fall from an eight floor building may do to a human body will only result in a few scratches or bruises at worst."

So that explains Lucifer's punishments...

"I think we can leave them, in that case," You declare, massaging your forehead. "They were being creepy."

"And it shall happen no more."

"I know, Barb, because of you." You say, and he only smiles. "Now, I think you should continue with your shopping. It's getting late—what are you looking at? Go away and leave us alone!" You address the crowd which gapes at you both, and they reluctantly disperse, a murmur passing through the demons.

"Would you like to help me with some of the groceries?" Barbatos asks.

There has already been one timeline where they all lost you—to hatred and anger. Quickly replaced by another you. But that doesn't help the nightmares that sometimes plague them all, even Barbatos is not spared.

And if there is even a single possibility where you are happy and safe in the Devildom, the demon will give all he has to make it into a reality.

Because he has grown to love you.

SIMEON

When you don't turn up for your promised sleepover, Simeon begins to get worried.

He thinks you're late, at first, having your time jeopardised by one of the brothers. Maybe Mammon roped you into one of his schemes again, and now Lucifer would be chasing after you both. The thought makes him giggle, for that is quite possible.

Or maybe you would have been tired and have fallen asleep.

Simeon begins to fret when the clock strikes nine, and he's just finished making himself a cup of hellfire rose tea. The beverage is supposed to soothe his nerves, but it does little to calm the growing restless in his mind.

He sends you a message, but you don't reply.

And when even Lucifer, the one demon that is the most level-headed out of all his brothers denies having seen you at home, stating that you had left an hour earlier, Simeon begins to grow panicked.

But he forces himself to calm down, and then the two brothers no more set out to search for you.

He picks up his cape and sets out, asking Solomon to take care of Luke for the time being, and keep an eye out if you come home in his absence.

"Don't tell Luke yet," He mutters, and Solomon nods. Simeon knows the sorcerer will search for you through his own unconventional methods.

His mind retraces the way to the House of Lamentation, the cobblestone slippery due to the recent rains. There's a slight chill in the air, and so the angel wraps his cape around himself tighter.

Living in the Devildom means that his eyes have grown accustomed to the perpetual darkness, so unlike that of the Celestial Realm. Even now so, Simeon is aware that he's far too bright for demon's eyes. It makes him more vulnerable to dangers in this realm, but Simeon doesn't care.

He's got no time to waste. One hand still clutches his D.D.D. in hopes of you calling him.

Flitting through these streets aimlessly makes him restless.

And that is a feeling that Simeon already had enough of.

A twig breaks nearby, and the angel's eyes dart towards the dense foliage, towards the forest that leads to the other levels in the Devildom. It's a foreign place for him, and he doesn't know whether he'll be even to able get inside.

But he walks in anyways.

Just like he did millennia ago, when the ground seemed to shake and Michael stormed the hallways, demanding to know who had freed Lilith from the dungeon.

And he'd refused to participate in the war which had led to their sister's demise.

Why must it be a sin to love.

Even now, when Simeon steals a glance at Celestial weapons, it seems to him that they reek of sin, stained with the blood of their kin.

He forces himself to swallow the lump in his throat and continue on the unfamiliar path, and stops abruptly. The earth, dampened by rain, has fresh footprints.

Simeon narrows his eyes.

You open your eyes groggily.

It was a bad idea to let yourself go to Purgatory hall alone, but you had managed to convince Lucifer after half an hour of bribing him with vinyl records and Demonus that the demon had finally agreed to let you go, but on the condition that you would keep sending him texts to assure him that you were safe.

Ugh, after this he won't even let you step one foot out of the house without himself or his brothers.

Bless their hearts, but a human also needs alone time.

You'd managed to make it halfway to Purgatory Hall, but then you'd inhaled something in the air. It made you light-headed, and the last thing you remember was footsteps rapidly advancing before you blanked out.

You let your eyes wander. It's a forest, but its not the one you're familiar with in the Devildom. The environment is strange, and it leaves an unsettling feeling churning in the pit of your stomach.

You can fend off any animals here, that's for sure. But again, the most dangerous beings in a forest are those that walk on two feet.

"Whosoever kidnapped me, it was a bad idea."

You say out loud, hoping they hear. When no reply comes, you continue. "I was supposed to be warm and comfortable right now, but you've succeeded in hindering my plans. Loser."

"Shut your whining."

The voice sounds like the rumble of stones falling down a cliff, and it hurts your ears. You finally let yourself get up, dusting your clothes from the soil that clings to them.

Something tilts your chin upwards, and you shriek.

"What the fuck?!" You exclaim, trying to push off what seems like an invisible wall from you. You can't see the offending demon, they seem to have some special sort of abilities—being invisible—and it does not have good intentions in mind.

And, to make matters worse, your cheek is bleeding, from where it had clawed at you.

"First time I'm seeing a human here," It croaks, from somewhere around you, and you can't find out where the voice is coming from. "Knew the Prince had a programme, but he never included the other layers of the Devildom in it."

It almost sounds like the demon is fuming.

"Are we not his subjects?" He seethes, and something lunges at you. It grabs your throat, and you're grateful for the spell you had from Satan to defend yourself.

You hastily mutter the words, as much as they allow you, until the demon is sent flying back, or what you presume, given there's no longer invisible hands around your throat. A shudder escapes your body, and it brings back memories you would not want to relive again.

"Whatever vendetta you have against your Prince, sort it out with him. Not me." You cough, your voice hoarse. "Otherwise I'll be forced to attack you."

"You?" It drawls on, seemingly amused, and you prepare yourself for another attempt. "A human?"

Then they're awfully silent again.

You hate it.

You can't tell where the demon is, and there are no streetlights here, and the forest is so unfamiliar, and with the adrenaline running through your veins, it does little to help you.

A twig breaks somewhere, and you whip your head towards the source.

There's a guttural roar, and then your surroundings seem to brighten up all of a sudden, so much that it forces you to shut your eyes. You hear leaves rustling, a shuffle taking place, and you think you hear arcane murmurings—

You force yourself to open your eyes.

And your conscience did not prepare you for this sight.

There's a demon on the floor. Finally visible, you sigh in relief, but you can't make out their features. And Simeon stands over it.

His back is turned towards you, so you can't see his expression.

"You dared to harm them?" Simeon utters, and the words have a menacing tone to it. "I will not tolerate this."

The demon shrinks backwards, as much as their hands and legs let them ago, trying to back away and away and away from an angel that radiates wrath.

"You deserve to be punished."

Angels were created to do God's bidding. Protect the righteous, execute judgement and serve.

Justice is blind.

And so is anger sometimes.

Maybe other angels would have been forgiving, you think. Perhaps Raphael would have let a rain of spears rain down on the fool and present them to Diavolo, or maybe Michael would serve Divine Judgement.

But you are a human amongst demons.

And there is an angel in front of you.

An angel who has eons of wrath bottled up in him.

But he's not all-forgiving.

You can't see what happening, but Simeon bends down to whisper something into the demon's ear, and you can hear the fellow whimpering at his words.

He stands up again, and turns his gaze towards you.

"Close your eyes, please," Simeon says, and you hear him snarl, but you choose to ignore it all the same.

He's never going to be the same after this, you conclude, as the demon's screams reach a crescendo. You know the angel is on the precipice of falling.

Seraphim to archangel. Archangel to an ordinary human. Human to demon?

Is it love that will lead Simeon to fall, or the very ground on which he had established his angel-hood?

Wrath chokes you, makes the air thick and foreboding. It's alike Satan's rage, which spills over, and results in destruction. But the fear radiating from Simeon is something else, ancient anger which has been left to simmer for too long and has turned poisonous.

You had closed your eyes. Like a good lamb.

But you opened them too soon.

"Little lamb," He whispers, helping you stand. "Are you alright? There's blood on your cheek."

You think its guilt on Simeon's face. He's refusing to look at you now, choosing to instead stare at the moon which paints you both monochrome.

"I'm sorry," You say, trying your best to lighten the mood. "But thank you. I'm okay, it doesn't hurt."

"Still....you don't mind seeing me like this?" He hesitates, words trailing off in a whisper. Doubt fills Simeon's heart, but when you hold his hand so gently he caves in.

"Let's go home."

You don't tell Simeon that you saw white feathers turn black. You'll love him all the same—angel, demon or human.

SOLOMON

Maybe Solomon has a penchant for sensing danger.

Blame it on being protective, but he knew he could not stand back and watch you venture into Siren beach alone. He knows it is an important assignment, a vital part of your training to become a renowned sorcerer under his tutelage. Solomon knows you are worthy, knows you are formidable, but you're still learning.

And he would hate to see you hurt.

So when the protective charm he had placed on you secretly breaks, Solomon drops the vial of hellfire mushroom essence on the floor and stains his carpet.

He curses in a language that human ears have not heard in a very long time, mutters a spell under his breath and creates a portal.

Long ago, he would have checked twice before entering any newly-manifested portal. But he learnt and learnt and made mistakes, and now, Solomon can recite the incantation in his sleep.

His room blurs and disappears and the very air seems to change, and then the sorcerer lands on sand.

Solomon dislikes the ocean.

It brings up memories he'd rather forget, and the smell of sand and salt in the air stirs something foreign inside of him. It twists his heart into knots, but he brushes off the feeling and continues towards where your magic is the strongest.

A siren's song echoes in the distance, and Solomon takes caution and blocks that noise from his ears.

It makes humans mad.

Your scream is the first thing that reaches his ears, and he teleports.

"Make it stop!" You garble out, barely managing to cover your ears while the sirens crowd around you. They all have leers on their faces, and their lips keep moving, singing songs which will drive you to insanity.

Thankfully he can't hear, but oh fuck, he didn't teach you any spells that would keep the worst of the chorus out.

A pang of guilt strikes him. How could he be this negligent?

You look at him so scared, so helpless, so defeated—

Eons ago, he was like you too. Scared and doubtful, until he made himself a king and earned wisdom which granted him everything else, everything but death.

"Get away from them!" He shouts, eyebrows furrowed.

The sirens steal a look at him, and freeze, confused at a human which is not affected by their voice.

"Strange," One says, with seaweed in her hair. "A mortal who is not maddened yet."

He strides towards them, until he's managed to be close enough to whisper the words in your ear that will protect you against their songs, and watches as you mutter the words he says and then sigh.

"Let us be, we are no ordinary humans."

"That makes the hunt irresistible." They reply, and Solomon smiles, and shares a look with you.

"They think we'll fall in no time," He chuckles, hand under his chin. "Want to show them who we are, MC?"

You grin. "Gladly."

Then one lunges, nails and teeth far sharper than on any siren he's seen before. He recites a chant under his breath, and she falls back, into the sea.

"Warned you."

The others hiss.

You ignore the adrenaline running through your veins and focus on the remaining sirens, reciting a hex that you learnt with the sorcerer a month ago.

"......let them be singed."

There's a shriek, and it seems to be coming from all directions—the sirens all retreat into the water, your spell having done its job.

You stare until the surface calms, still not trusting yourself to face Solomon. You're trembling slightly, and you were so scared that you were going to die—

"It's okay." Solomon whispers, voice weak. You turn around to gaze at him, the sound of waves hitting rocks a background melody. He's smiling, but there's desperation in his eyes. He's hiding his true emotions right now, and aren't you doing the same?

The sorcerer hides his face into the crook of your neck, and you feel him press his lips to the skin there. He shudders, and you don't comment on it.

"I should have taught you the spell before letting you come here," He whispers, his voice breaking off at the end. "I had almost lost you there. Forgive me."

You wrap your arms around him. "It's okay," You a press a kiss to his head. "I'm safe, you're safe, we are safe." You hope Solomon is comforted by your words, given he's never let himself be so vulnerable with you before.

"You'll grow to be as powerful as me." The man chuckles, breathing deeply. Relief floods his body, and now that the adrenaline has worn off it leaves Solomon lethargic. "My sorcerer..."

He just want to be with you.

"We should go home," You suggest, noticing the chill in the air. "It's getting late. The sirens may return.."

"You can take care of them just fine now, can't you?"

"Now now, don't get too chummy with me."

BONUS: LUKE

Sorry Luke—

[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.

[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.

[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.

—

[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.

_________________________________

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

15 and 19 for Thewo for the soft ship prompts.... Please, I beg you....

cw (prompt 15): Fluff, Attempt at Humor, Ketchup Not Being Used Correctly, Horseplay, Use of Masculine-Gendered Nicknames, Gender-Neutral Reader.

cw (prompt 19): Fluff, Attempt at Humor, Mention of the French (tm), Use of Masculine-Gendered Nicknames, One Spicy Joke, Gender-Neutral Reader.

author's note: I really hope that you like these! I had a lot of fun writing for Sero. Hopefully these prompts are to your liking—Sero is a pretty silly guy. These were prompts from the "Soft OTP or Self Ship Prompts" list and can be found here . Prompt 15 will be under the break, and Prompt 19 will be under the other Sero photo. REQUESTS ARE OPEN—CHECK PINNED POST FOR CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR. Please only request one or two from this specific prompt list just to make it easier for me! Thank you.

PROMPT: 15 (Write about your ship spending a lazy afternoon together).

PROMPT: 19 (Write about your ship going on a casual date).

word count (prompt 15): Approximately 1.1k words.

word count (prompt 19): Approximately 1.7k words.

“Pass me one of those ketchup packets, will ya?” 

There’s a soft thwack to the ground whenever your head rolls to the side. Hanta lays on his back on the bed, but his arm now dangles from its edge, fingers brushing the floor ever so slightly. Both of his eyes are closed, and that goofy grin’s luster is a little dull. Napkins cover his chest, a few dark smudges against the paper from where he had previously wiped his fingers. One of your eyebrows cock, your vision ever so slooooooowly glancing down to where the tiny pile of ketchup packets sit, only mere whiskers away from his hand.  

You blink. 

“Bro. They’re literally… right there. By your hand. Why don’t you grab one yourself?” 

Hanta’s head seems to creak like a rusty door desperately clinging to its hinges. That grin starts to spread a little, but it’s by a mere fraction, and his eyes slit open just a smidge. He snorts. 

“That’s no fun. Can’t a guy want to be spoiled?” 

A sigh so heavy and dreary spills from your lips, tumbling out with the weight of the world. Amusement dances across Hanta’s face, and you pointedly squint at him before turning yourself to rest against your side, arms flopped outwards. 

“I think you just want to make me be your errand boy. Look, your nails are touching one of the packets. Just. Take one.” 

Hanta shakes his head slightly. 

“Nah. Too much work. I need my lovely, lovely, loooooovely sweetheart to hand it to me.” 

You’re not frustrated, no, not at all. However, that look smearing across Hanta’s face is getting to be a little too smarmy and you’re starting to feel the need to really give him something to smirk about. Your eyes bounce between the pile of ketchup packets and Hanta’s face a few times, slowly, deliberately, and you swear that his eyes open wider and his fingers curl further with each glance. Oh, he’s so getting it. 

“If I hand you one of those packets, you’re not going to like what I’ll do.” 

A shrug of shoulders, a wide smile. 

“Eh. I’m not too worried as long as I get that ketchup packet.” 

The fires in your eyes ignite, and something sinister paints your expression. Hanta misses it because you swerve your hips fast enough so that your body basically slides across the ground, hand outstretched from a packet. You manage to snag one between your middle and pointer fingers, and another spin of your hips has your knees and palms flat on the ground. The sounds you’re making seem to awaken Hanta, and shock pops into his eyes like confetti and both of his eyebrows explode up his forehead, those bangs loosely scooting to the side. You’re pushing yourself up with a gust of wind, and once your feet bend at the right angles, you’re pouncing. 

Hanta releases an anguished yell, but it doesn’t stop your evil ways. He flails his limbs, but you’re dodging every swipe, napkins flying everywhere. One of your knees thunders against the bed of Hanta’s opposite side, and you use that momentum to fling yourself atop of his body. He groans before his limbs turn to jelly and he goes limp, the surprise draining from his face before he deadpans. He stares at you, a look of disbelief now staring right at you. 

“Did’ja really have to do that? It seemed a little excessive to me, man.” 

Devilish thoughts, a set of horns beginning to poke out of the crown of your head, a pointy tail with an arrow tip starts to curl into a heart shape. 

“Well, I just thought I’d spoil you, ya know.” 

Hanta blinks. 

“Ohhh, no. Oh, no. I don’t like what you’re implying.” 

A few giggles escape you, bubbling like fruit and nectar in the back of your throat. You start to carefully sit up, gentle and easy with your movements. Hanta follows your every move like a pointer, paw bent and honed in on prey. Once you’re balanced as best as you can against Hanta’s stomach, you reveal the ketchup packet. You smile sweetly before your fingers start to gingerly tear off a corner. 

“What exactly am I implying?” 

Hanta hums out of discomfort. 

“Mmm, I think you’re about to terrorize me.” 

You gasp, totally in offense. 

“I can’t believe you think I’d do something like that to you, dawg! Don’t you truuuuuust me?” 

Hanta grimaces. 

“No.” 

A flutter of your eyelashes, butterfly wings, and that sweet smile of yours gets even more saccharine. 

“Good.” 

Hanta opens his mouth to question your response, but it’s too late. The corner of the ketchup packet is off, flung into the horizon, and you're leaning forth to that agape mouth. You’re too quick for Hanta, so all he can do is wail in agony whenever you flip the packet upside down and shove it into his mouth, right between his teeth. You start forcefully squeezing the packet, draining its contents into his mouth, and Hanta’s words come out as gurgles and distraught howls. His hands are flying around, and you notice he shoots out a few strips of tape, but you’re sly and slick, so you just snake your body around his projectiles. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted, Hanta? Where’s the fun in this now, huh? Don’t you like being spoiled?”

There’s mirth lacing your tone, but it’s cynical and sarcastic, and Hanta starts to sink into a mush the more ketchup spills. Two streams start to leak down the corners of his mouth, and he’s closed his eyes in acceptance and defeat. 

Once you’ve completely wrung the packet dry, you withdraw it and sit back, satisfied. 

Hanta swallows, and swallows, and he does it a couple more times even though there’s no more ketchup. Then he smacks his lips. Then a line creases between his brows.

“Oh, yeah. Love being spoiled. But… do you want to know what I love even more?” 

There’s something owlish to Hanta’s tone, something that makes you wonder if you should even entertain his inquiry, but the simp in you caves. You thoughtfully tilt your head to the side, lips pursed. 

“And what’s that?” 

Suddenly, Hanta’s eyes are wide and filled with flames of vengeance. Fear grips your heart, and you realize that you’ve made a huge mistake whenever his hands grasp your waist, the tips of his fingers touching the small of your back. It’s all over whenever Hanta starts to launch himself off of the bed, a victory cry revving in his chest, and the both of you cast aside onto the floor with one broad scream from Hanta—

“I think you’re looking a little hungry. Here, lemme feeeeed you!” 

And the last thing you see before it all goes dark is that ominously looming pile of ketchup packs.

“You’re kidding me.” 

Hanta shakes his head. 

“Nope. I’m totally serious.” 

You glance down the busy street, bustling with hundreds of people, swarming shops, crowds shoved against one another. Hot weather beats down on your back, sizzling it, warming your skin, glistening with sweat. Loud cacophonies of people speaking, children screaming, honking cars, screeching tires, serenading music—so many things, too many things happening at once, and your head is spinning whenever you lock eyes with Hanta again. 

“Dude. I’m not going to do that.” 

A faux expression of hurt crosses Hanta’s face and he pouts slightly, but it’s all a ploy to make you give into his dastardly whims. 

“C’mon! It’ll be a great adventure, an amazing bonding experience, and it’ll be sooooo romantic.” 

You squint. 

“For you. I don’t feel like going on a wild goose chase. Can’t we just go to the little café and skip this nonsense altogether?” 

A set of arms fling into the air, and Hanta releases a groan. 

“It’ll be boring! Look at us: we’re all dressed up, wearing our Sunday best—” 

“You’re literally wearing baggy pants with a shirt that’s so white that I can see each line of your abs. Do you really think you’ve got it in you to look French?” 

Hanta hums, crossing his arms, and then he shrugs. 

“Sure, why not? Anyone can throw on a beret and put one of those long candlestick cigarette tubes in their mouth.” 

“I think you’re looking for the words opera cigarette holders.” 

“Man, who actually cares to know the correct terminology? We just need it for the aesthetic.” 

You blink, eyes wider than the moon before you slice both of your hands out, appalled. 

“You want to look French, and yet you don’t even know the official name of one of the objects you’re looking for!” 

Hanta pivots around on his heel, loosely  shaking his head, choppy black locks swaying in the stiff summer breeze. He stalks off, leaving you to follow his cues, which make you groan, but you begrudgingly follow after his disappearing figure. 

“Fine. But if I suddenly have a baguette in my hand—” 

—

The dinky little store is tucked away in the corner of an alleyway. If you didn’t turn your head at the right angle, you would have completely missed it. It looks odd, very rustic and rundown, but Hanta doesn’t seem bothered by it. A curved staircase of three steps arches into the cylinder shaped entrance, and a hollow thump follows after Hanta’s every tread whenever he ascends and grasps the round doorknob. The door screeches whenever it opens, which makes you wince. Hanta’s thousand yard stare and everlasting wide grin doesn’t flinch, and he just enthusiastically bounds into the threshold. You emit a soft sound of displeasure whenever you enter, and your body completely stiffens whenever the door swings back harshly and slams shut behind you—the jingling of bells finally registers. 

Now that you’re inside, you can’t help whenever your eyes turn further and further into saucers, shiny and glossy with wonder and confusion. It’s dim in here, and the lighting is yellow-orange, like the dying rays of sunshine. It’s homely, and it’s full and hard to navigate through. But Hanta doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, he keeps walking, whistling softly and swinging his hips around casually. 

“This seems like a great spot to look for French cosplay. Keep your eyes peeled and we’ll be ready to drink free complimentary water at a pretentious café in no time.” 

You shake your head, a sigh. 

“Sure. I’m positive that…” 

You quickly survey your immediate vicinity before you keep speaking. 

“Puppy dog figurines with equally miserable puppy dog eyes and… used… traffic signs… will supply us with all we need.” 

Hanta chuckles softly, shoulders bouncing. 

“Have some faith! Just follow me, I can feel it. I know we’re going to score.” 

He’s not stopping, so you know there’s no use in trying to talk him out of his dastardly schemes. Another glance at your surroundings spurs you forward, and you’re slightly spinning your body while you look around, watching carefully where you put your feet. 

There’s almost too many things to keep track of what all you’re seeing, but it doesn’t take long for Hanta to stop. You thump into his back and emit a sound of confusion, but Hanta’s gesturing to the side and grimacing. 

“Oh, God. I can’t believe they have a corner dedicated to that.” 

When you look, it’s a corner filled to the brim with creepy clown figurines. There’s dolls, plushies, puppets, and everything clown related. They look old, like something out of the early Industrial Revolution Era, and dirty with grime. All of the fabric, thread, and porcelain are smudged against the lights on the ceiling, and you make a noise of discomfort. 

“Bro. I feel like if you got too close, you’d end up breathing in some toxic chemicals. Like pesticides.” 

Hanta’s eyes widen by a fraction, and they shoot back and forth quickly before he mumbles. 

“Well, shit, we’ve gotta get out of here. I’m not dying from some mystical gas curse.” 

Hanta turns fast, and you follow, and the both of you are still walking away from the corner. As you walk, you can swear you feel their eyes on you, following, and you shudder. 

“I’m surprised they’re not levitating after us to drag us back to their evil dimension. Like. That one Goosebumps episode, uh, The Haunted Mask?” 

“Why would I know what you’re talking about? Do you think I’m in for a scaaaaaare? I’m thinking more Cabal.” 

You shake your head, 

“The Nightbreed weren’t all evil! All of those clowns were definitely evil.” 

Hanta goes to retort, but his mouth falls agape and he flails his body a bit. His hands fly out to you, and he’s tapping his palms against your arms and shoulders. 

“Look! Look! Dude!” 

You’re trying to twist your head around to see what Hanta’s freaking out about, but he’s grasping your hand and spinning you around faster than the speed of light. A strangled choke leaves your lips, and a heavy case of whiplash smacks your temples whenever Hanta starts dragging you along. Whenever you’re finally able to see what Hanta’s enamored by, you notice it’s… 

“Spiderman?” 

Hanta flings his arms into the air. 

“Not just any Spiderman. This is the old stuff, the real deal, the bee’s-knees.”

“Hmm. All I can ever think about whenever I see classic Spiderman is that one game where you awkwardly walk around in sewers for a long ass time before you manage to squirt webs onto that lizard guy.” 

“The Spiderman Plug-N-Play: Escape From the Sewers level? You’re no fun. I know you know more than that.” 

You’re staring at the collection of Spiderman again.

“Yes, I can totally see more than the plug-n-play. Like… the really. Uncomfortable. Hyper-realistic painting of Andrew Garfield… caressing a… is that a self-insert?” 

You and Hanta stare at the painting for a solid moment. 

“Holy shit. It is a self-insert.” 

Hanta immediately begins cackling, and you’re giggling before you shove into him, attempting to push him away from the Spiderman collection. You’re stumbling on your toes, and Hanta’s eyes are blown out while he cackles through the reality of the painting. If you don’t keep Hanta moving, the painting flashes in your mind and you nearly wither from it. 

“Nope. Corner just lost all of its validity at that. We run now. I’m not really wanting to accidentally come across smut in there. How did no one notice what that painting was?” 

Hanta tries to strike a sexy pose, rubbing his fingers across his collar bones while he smears a stupid smirk across his face. 

“I don’t know… Andrew Garfield’s not really my type, but… Doctor O’Hara…” 

You wail. 

“No more Spiderman for now! Let’s focus on our French cosplay!” 

The laughter hasn’t quite died within your chests, and that’s when it happens. Hanta’s head angles in just the right way, and his face melts into something sincere and surprised. He pauses, and you lean into him, and then you follow his trail of sight. And there, in the distance, surrounded by a halo of glowing light from the Heavens above, is exactly what you’re looking for. 

You bob your head in a rhythm, both eyebrows bouncing along. 

“Huh. What are the chances that we’d find two matching monochrome striped shirts with deep maroon berets right next to each other?” 

“Who cares? C’mon, let’s get ‘em before someone else swooces us.” 

Hanta’s holding your hand again, fingers laced, and pulling you with him. This time, you’re not as stiff and confused, and you’re happily skipping behind him, light on your feet and flouncing. Excitement is vibrating off of Hanta, the rays tickle your mood and you can’t help but feel adoration whenever you observe his features. Even if you didn’t really want to do all of this extra work, and even if it felt short-lived given the circumstances, Hanta was all worth it in the end. And whenever the destination is crossed and the both of you are standing directly in front of the French cosplays, you watch his grin for a few more fleeting seconds before you stretch your hand out for the long-sleeve dangling from its hanger. 

“This is so epic. I can’t believe it actually worked.” 

Hanta blows a puff of air from between his teeth. 

“Pffft. I knew it would. You’ve gotta trust in the Sero more often, babe.” 

You hum. 

“Perhaps. Here, let’s just get these.” 

The hanger is within your clutches, and you’re reaching for the beret next. Hanta’s already swooped up both of his items, but it feels like time is beginning to slip into slow motion. It’s so strange, and eccentric, and you can’t help but feel your brows pinch together whenever the pads of your fingers brush against the faux wool fabric. Hanta’s watching you, and the anticipation builds before you wiggle your fingers beneath its inner brim and lift. 

And there, hidden beneath its depths, a 

baguette. 

Silence. 

“Oh, come on! Hanta, I told you that if I had a baguette—” 

But Hanta’s laughing brashly before you can finish, the baguette glittering underneath the light.