#you also start to just feel like you’re not…here? after a while?

[pitchsidestories]

aurora II Mapi León x Reader

masterlist | word count: 1190

summary: Mapi and reader getting engaged under the northern lights.

author's note: dear readers, this cute oneshot was requested and we hope you'll like it as much as we did writing the story. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

„Oh, Mapi, you know you didn’t need to.”, you began, your voice full of emotions.  

In your slightly shaky hands, you held the opened envelope in which there was an invitation to see the Northern lights. A childhood dream was laying in your palms.

It was coming true, and you were going to see that natural wonder with no other than the person you loved the most. A single tear ran down your cheek as an incredible feeling of gratitude spread through you.

The Spaniard pressed a featherlight kiss to the place where your cheek was still a bit wet.  “But I wanted to. I know you always wanted to do that, and you deserve it after the year you’ve had.”

For a brief moment, your face darkened; the last few months of the 2024/25 football season had been really tough for you. While Mapi and Irene were fit enough to play in the starting eleven again, you were demoted to the substitutes' bench again, after having grown in the role of defender and been indispensable to the team for many months.

Obviously, you were happy for the two, yet it hurt to be only considered the second choice once more.

“Thank you, amor.”, you whispered gratefully.

“You’re welcome.”, she replied.

“I simply can’t wait for that.”, you hummed excitedly. Something magical at the end of the year was just what you needed, a small winter miracle.

“Luckily, you don’t have to wait for long.”, Mapi reminded you softly.

‘But you're going to be so cold!’ you realised, and there was a hint of a guilty conscience in your voice.

“You can keep me warm.”, the defender responded with an amused smile on her lips.

“I promise I’ll.”, you grinned at your girlfriend.

“Also I already bought us matching sweaters.”,Mapi confessed sheepishly

“You did?”, you asked her touched by such a thoughtful and admittable, cheesy gesture.

“I did.”, she confirmed smirking.

“Maria Pilar, you’re the softest human with tattoos I’ve ever met, I swear.”, you said.

“My tattoos have nothing to do with that.”, the fellow football player laughed.

The weeks had flown by.

Still, it felt to you like a dream when Mapi and you were looking up to the night sky in the northern parts of Scandinavia. The northern lights above your heads.

“Yes.”, she agreed solemnly. With curious eyes the defender turned her head to look at you.  “Is it just like you imagined?”

“No, it’s even better.”, you admitted.

“It’s?”, Mapi questioned happily.

You quickly pressed a kiss to her cheek: “Yes, because you’re here with me.“

“You’re so sweet.“, your girlfriend smiled, her cheeks red from the cold.

“Also this feels so good right now. We’re only half way through the season but it’s already been an exhausting one for sure.“

“I know. And that’s why you’re not supposed to think about football here.“, Mapi reminded you gently.

You nodded gingerly. Of course she was right, this was not the time or place to think about football when you finally got to see this remarkable light display with your own eyes. “Sorry.“

Silently, you both watched on for a moment, taking everything in. You still couldn’t believe this was all real. It was almost verging on overwhelming.

“Y/n?”, Mapi said suddenly into the night.

“Hm?”, you replied without taking your eyes off the sky.

“I need to ask you something.“

Finally you turned towards her and what you saw, made the northern lights pale in comparison. There was no way to top this, yet Mapi found away.

The defender kneeled in front of you, holding a delicate golden ring in a little box.

“Oh my god!”, you whispered, incapable of stringing more words together.

“I haven’t asked yet.“, Mapi chuckled.

You shook your head in disbelief: “Well, you already got down on one knee in the freezing cold and pulled out a ring from your jacket so this is pretty self-explanatory!”

“So… Can I get an answer then?”

“Without asking? Hm…“, you teased her.

Mapi shot you a look: “You just said I didn’t have to.“

“It’s a yes, amor.“, you finally answered. You couldn’t contain the smile spreading across your face when you pulled Mapi up from the snowy ground and kissed her.

“You will be my wife?”, she asked as if she needed confirmation that you knew what you had just agreed to.

“Yes, and you’ll be mine.“

She beamed at you happily: “I will be. Even in the cold… Can we go inside now?”

“Of course, I can’t let my fiancée freeze any longer.“, you nodded with a laugh and led her inside your rented cabin.

“Thank you.“, your fiancée said, rubbing her hands together to warm them back up once she was inside.

“You’re welcome. Do you want me to make you some hot chocolate?”, you suggested once you saw how badly Mapi was shivering.

“Yes, please.“

While she took off her boots and winter jacket, you disappeared into the small rustic kitchen only to return with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate a few minutes later. You had even added mini marshmallows. Carefully, you handed Mapi a mug and watched her take a sip.

“Better?”

“A lot.“

“Good.“, you sighed relieved.

“That’s all I ever wanted.”, the defender realized gratefully.  

“A hot chocolate under the northern lights?”, you asked her amused.

“With my future wife.”, she added proudly. Her words made you feel suddenly very hot, so you had to pull off the scarf.

Despite the rather chaotic proposal you heard yourself saying. “Feels like a dream.”

“It does, huh?”

“Yes, I don’t want to wake up from it yet.”, you confessed.

The fireplace crackled in the background.

“You don’t have to. That’s our life right now.”, Mapi reassured you, the Spaniard gently touched your chin and turned it towards her so that you could look into her hungry eyes.

They and her waiting lips were the invitation you needed, both of your mouths touching in perfect unison, the kiss was perfect, bittersweet, you could still taste the hot chocolate in it.

Then she leant her forehead against yours, her sentence sounded full of promise. “Love you, future wifey.”

“Te amo.”, you whispered gently in your fiancées mother tongue.

“I know.”, Mapi chuckled, her lips escaping a protesting sound once you got up to light some candles and turned out the big lights, so it was even cozier than before.

“Isn’t this perfect.”, the Spaniard admired.

“It’s plus we can see the northern lights from our beds.”, you pointed excitedly to the glass ceiling which gave a picturesque view of the night sky above your heads.

“Nice, right?”, she grinned, as you both laid down on the soft mattress.

“Yes, it’s an amazing place to make..”, you started blushing.

“Love?”, Mapi finished the sentence for you with a teasing look on her face.

“Yes.”, you bit your lips while your fiancée began to leave small kisses all over your body.

Aurora, the blush of dawn would be here soon, but you two had only eyes for each other as you made love under the most beautiful sky you’ve ever seen.

if you enjoyed this story reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated !

[m-neuvillette]

Where’s the trophy? He just comes running over to me!

Oliver Aiku, Sae Itoshi, Tetsuro Kuroo, Kotaro Bokuto, Kojiro Nanjo (Joe) x fem reader

Small scenarios of my favorite athletic anime boys to this Taylor Swift song <3

Oliver Aiku

Since the Blue Lock project was completed and viewed as a success the new Japan National team was created. Oliver staying as its star defender and captain.

Oliver has really enjoyed playing with the Blue Lock boys. He is also happy they are on his team and he gets to lead them to become the best soccer players he knows they can be.

Now here they are, the World Cup. The Japan National team has made it all the way to the championship game. Oliver takes a deep breath and looks at the scoreboard. 1-0 with one minute left. They are winning. They are so close to the win he can almost taste it.

Japan has been outplaying the other team this entire game. Oliver is now just watching his offensive line pass the ball around to kill time on the clock. He is so antsy right now, he can stop from jumping up and down a bit.

3…2…1… *buzzer noise*…. The crowd is going wild and is so loud. But everything seems so quiet to Oliver. He can’t believe it, it feels so surreal. He accomplished his dream. HE AND HIS TEAMMATES DID IT!!! Oliver then looks around to see his teammates coming to run back to the defensive line to celebrate.

While the team celebrates on the field you and other family, friends, and lovers of his teammates head to the field. You’re sadly toward the back of the group but you can’t even seem to care because Oliver accomplished his dream.

The group gets to the field and the team pulls apart from celebrating with each other to find their loved ones. Oliver is looking around to try and find you. He’s just buzzing to get you in his arms. He realizes the crowd is breaking up and sees you towards the back. Without a second hesitation he runs towards you.

You really want to push these people out of your way to try and find Oliver but they are in the same boat as you so you impatiently wait until the crowd breaks up. They finally start to break into group and you turn to your left to see Oliver sprinting towards you.

Oliver gets to you and before either of you can say a word both he has a hand on the back of your head and pulls you into a deep kiss. He puts his other hand on your lower back to pull you closer towards him. You quickly wrap your arms around his neck wanting him even closer.

Oliver breaks the kiss and leans down to connect your foreheads. He just stares at you with so much love and excitement. You smile back at him starting to cry, “Congratulations Oliver!! You accomplished your dream. I am SO proud of you baby.”

Oliver wipes your tears, “Cmon baby, you’re going to make me start crying.” It’s true you can see his eyes start to water, “I couldn’t have done this without your support. I cannot thank you enough for being for me this entire tournament and here right now. I love you so much baby.”

You quickly respond, “I love you more Oliver.” Oliver then pulls you into the biggest, warmest and tightest hug you guys have ever shared. Oliver may have just accomplished his dream but you’ll still always be his favorite trophy.

Sae Itoshi

You and Sae were childhood friends. You two were super close because you were the only other person Sae could stand besides his younger brother. It broke your heart when your friend told you that he was leaving for Spain.

You had the biggest crush on Sae your entire childhood and it only seemed like those feelings grew once he left. Little did you know Sae was in the same boat.

So after two years of being in Spain he called you one night begging you to come to Spain to be with him. You weren’t exactly close with your parents or had anything tying you down to Japan so you quickly agreed. And the rest is history.

Here you are now watching Sae play in a tournament with a bunch of different teams in it. His team made it all the way to the championship and you couldn’t be more excited. Sae has gotten two assists and has been playing perfectly.

Sae doesn’t show it but he’s so excited. They are up 5-1 with 10 seconds left. It’s a guaranteed win. The buzzer goes off indicating the game is over and that he and his team won.

Sae goes to celebrate with his team but he isn’t super close with them so he more or so sticks to high fives compared to hugs. He is just waiting till you come down to the field because in all honesty he wants to celebrate with you.

You couldn’t stop crying he accomplished one of his many soccer dreams and at a young age too. You don’t even hesitate to run down to the field to find him. Once you get down there you make eye contact and see he has been waiting for you.

Sae really only runs for soccer but you’re the exception. He is sprinting towards you. Once he gets to you he pulls you into a bone crushing hug. He is quick to ask, “Why are you crying?”

You tell him, “Sae, you accomplished one of your dreams!! And I got to see it at the same time. I am SO proud of you.”

Sae pulls back to wipe your tears and looks at you like you are the only person in the world. “Thank you beautiful. I couldn’t have done this without you being here with me. I love you.”

You respond instantly, “I love you too Sae. More than you can imagine my superstar.”

Sae smiled and leans down to give you a kiss putting so much love behind it. Sae knows there is so many opportunities for him in Spain but he sees so many more opportunities with you.

Tetsuro Kuroo

You met Kuroo your first year in chemistry. Your assigned seats were by each other and you guys instantly connected. He convinced you early into your first year to become the manager for the volleyball team and you don’t regret joining.

At the end of your first year Kuroo asked you out and you two have been dating ever since. You’ve watched Kuroo grow from a loud and passionate first year into a strong captain (who is still loud and passionate).

You and Nekoma are currently at the nationals entry game against Noehbi. Kuroo was talking to you about the game last night about how bad he wanted to go to nationals his last year of playing. All you wanted was to have that happen.

This game is frustrating to watch because Noehbi’s cheating is really making everyone mad. That doesn’t stop Kuroo from cheering everyone on. Everyone started to get on edge once Yaku gets hurt.

You saw Kuroo run to him right away to try and help. You know Kuroo is stressed but he isn’t showing it. You know he has a deep trust in his team and won’t let this game end in a loss.

You see the boys work together and pull off the win. Everyone is cheering while the team is celebrating. As much as you want to run to Kuroo and celebrate you know to give him time with his team.

Kuroo was exhausted from the game but that didn’t stop him from running around and celebrating that they are going to nationals. After he is done hugging the team he turns to face you.

He gives you a soft smile indicating that he can celebrate with you now. You are tearing up because of how proud you are of them but also because you know that this is the final stretch of the third years.

Once you stand up indicating you’re ready to celebrate he crosses the court with ease right to you. Kuroo places his forehead against yours. He sees your tears and goes to kiss them away then quickly kisses your lips. “Darling don’t go crying on me now, we are suppose to be celebrating.”

“Sorry Kuroo, I’m just so happy and proud. You got to go to nationals one last time. That is also making me sad because it’s our last time as manager and captain.”

Kuroo lets out a couple of tears and pulls you into a hug to whisper into your ear, “Thank you. We have one more last page to write in this part of our lives but I have a whole future planned with you so don’t worry. I love you darling.”

You whisper into Kuroo’s ear, “I love you too my captain.”

Kotaro Bokuto

You met Bokuto through Akaashi. Akaashi took you as an apprentice journalist to see what the routine of one looks like. Bokuto gave Akaashi an extra ticket to have you come and get a good seat.

Once Akaashi introduced you to Bokuto the story wrote itself. Bokuto was quick to ask you to be his girlfriend and you have been to every game since.

This game is really important to Bokuto today because this is the one to indicate the best men’s professional team in Japan. He is playing against and with a bunch of people he grew up with.

You know he’ll have a fun time playing but you also know he wants to win. You’ve seen his excitement all day today and you can’t wait to see that on the court.

You sat next to Akaashi during the game and met a lot of Bokuto’s friends from high school. It makes you happy to know a lot of people are excited and happy for him. He truly is one of a kind.

The game goes on, the teams are neck to neck. One team will take the lead then the other will and it’s a cycle like that. But in the end Bokuto’s team ended up winning.

You make your way down to the court with the rest of Bokuto’s friends. You stay behind though so Bokuto can see his friends first since he hasn’t seen a good amount of them for years.

Bokuto had another idea though. Once you all got to the court and he didn’t see you at the front of the group he pushed through the group to find you.

Once he finds you he smiles and picks you up by the waist and spins you around. He’s laughing and staring at you with so much happiness. Bokuto yell, “SWEETHEART WE WON!!! DID YOU SEE IT!?! DID YOU SEE MY INSANE SPIKES?!?”

You giggle and hold onto his shoulders. You yell back, “YES PRETTY BOY I SAW!!! YOU PLAYED AMAZING, I AM SO PROUD OF YOU!!!”

Bokuto slowly puts you down and leans down to give you a kiss. He gives you a hug. “Well I only did so good because I had my lucky charm here watching.”

Later that night Bokuto gave you a necklace with his number on it so you can wear it to games to show off that you’re his lucky charm.

Kojiro Nanjo (Joe)

You’ve known Joe and Cherry since high school and once they created S they always invited you to come and watch them skate.

After a guy at S got too close to you and made you uncomfortable one of them is always with you. One time while Joe was skating you told Cherry you had feelings for Joe but had no idea how to tell him. Cherry ended setting you two up because he knew Joe also had feelings for you.

Joe stopped all his playboy habits once he knew he had a chance. He ended up becoming the picture perfect boyfriend.

Ever since the tournament Adam held, tournaments became a regular occurrence. S tried to make different tournaments to highlight different types of skating. This tournament that was going on now was a strength and speed tournament. Meaning it was perfect for Joe.

The final match was between Joe and Shadow. Joe and Shadow come up to the group and everyone wishes them luck even though Joe won’t need it. Miya is quick to say that too which causes everyone to laugh and Shadow to have a meltdown.

They then go to line up and start the beef. Once they start skating you and the group head down to the finish line.

Joe is in the lead and Shadow is having a hard time catching up. Everyone expected this to happen but you are still so excited to watch Joe skate. He really is a different person when he is skating. You can see how much love he has for it when he is doing these tournaments and it’s so much fun to watch.

They are starting to get closer to the finish line and Shadow has no hope in catching up now. Joe makes it to final stretch and only pushes himself to go faster. Once he crosses the finish line he quickly jumps off his board and jogs right over to you.

Joe picks you up in a hug and gives you a passionate kiss. He slips his tongue into your mouth to deepen the kiss. Once your tongues move in a dance, Cherry hits him on the back to make you two stop. Joe tightens his hold on you to make sure you don’t fall. “I get you guys love each other but there’s a crowd.”

Joe puts you down but still is hugging you and glares at Cherry, “I don’t care you douche. I am here to collect my reward.” Joe turns his attention back to you and smiles down at you. “Hey there pretty girl, did you enjoy the beef?”

You wrap your arms around his frame and put your chin on his chest to look up at him, “Hi handsome. I did enjoy watching you skate. You were amazing out there as always. Congratulations my champion.”

Joe winks at you then gives a little quick kiss to your forehead, “How about we celebrate a little more after this?” You agree and Joe drags you off to his motorcycle to head back to his place for the rest of his reward.

[nickfowlerrr]

crystal clear and smudgy

pairing: personal trainer!lance tucker x curvy!reader / just a little tiny hint of bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. kinda established undefined relationship. no explicit smut but sexual content. talks of working out. just a little tiny hint of bucky x reader. steve rogers has a blink and you’ll miss it appearance. mentions of oral. some shades of degradation at the beginning. cursing. bits of fluff. mention of reader having a degradation and a praise kink. little ooc lance bc he’s way sweeter and a lot more bearable here than he is in the bronze 💀 not edited simply bc i didn’t want to edit it - apologies for any mistakes. if something needs to be tagged pls lmk!

words: 4k

notes: not expecting much interaction for this one but if you do so happen to give it a read, i’d love to know what you think! personally - i really loved writing this one ☺️ as always, reblogs and comments are more than welcome and so appreciated. thank you for reading! 🩵

“Let’s go, princess, one more set,” he orders, standing over you as you lay on the ground, collapsed and completely warn out by the last twelve reps. At this angle you could just lift your leg and hit him right where it hurts.

And he’d deserve it, too.

You’re distracted from the thoughts of kicking your own personal menace by the feeling of him kicking you. Right in your side. Not anywhere near close enough to hurt, but just enough to piss you off.

“Don’t fucking kick me,” you swat at him, “jackass.”

“You just gonna lay there and take it?” he challenges, walking further up your body so he’s standing over your chest now.

By the smirk that curves his lips, you can tell he’s about to say something else as your already hot body heats further under his burning gaze. He knows what he’s doing and you want to hate him for it.

He lifts a foot, holding eye contact with you as he brings it to your chest, pressing down with just enough of his weight to ensure that you can feel it as your mouth goes dry and your head goes empty.

“We both know how well you can take it,” he taunts, stepping just a little harder as your hands fly up to his shoe and push on his foot a bit as a stilted gasp - a gasp and not a moan - leaves you.

A moment later the chime sounds at the entrance of the gym, signaling the arrival of another. Lance’s smirk taunts you a second longer, that glimmer of mischief still twinkling in his eye before he steps over you.

Your eyes follow him as he leaves the weight room to greet whoever it is at the front desk. It’s a Wednesday so you know he isn’t coaching any gymnastic classes, and he stopped taking other clients on Wednesdays after the second time you found yourselves being…interrupted by an early arrival.

Wednesdays were now exclusively reserved for you.

You know how it sounds in your head, but you also know it’s really for no other reason than him wanting to get his dick wet without interruption.

At least that’s how it started, anyway.

After the second time you were almost caught, you refused his advances at the next session. You weren’t risking it. Lance, however, couldn’t have cared less if someone had walked in on you on your knees in front of him, his dick down your throat while you sucked him off. In fact, you’re almost certain he probably would’ve liked it. When he realized you were serious, he rolled his eyes and went to the front entrance, making a show of locking the door as you watched on. He got out his phone and texted his next client that he had to cancel before he came back over to you and shoved his phone in your face.

“There, happy now?” He asked before he tossed it next to you on the bench you were sitting on.

You just looked up at him and couldn’t get a word out before he was dragging you to the locker rooms. Happy maybe wasn’t the word you would have used, but surely satisfied. Especially after the way he fucked you in front of the big mirror across the room. Forcing you to look at yourself, to watch the way he used you, how he made you feel so good and so full of him, his lips pressed against your ear as he spoke the filthiest degradations, with sprinkles of praises when you squeezed his cock just right or made a certain sound that had him groaning deeply and squeezing your soft hips even tighter. And definitely after he fucked you again in the showers. It was slower that time; steamy and yet still rough, and god, just as fucking hot.

You went home with him that night.

And begrudgingly, every other Wednesday night since.

It’s become routine. You meet here, have your training session, and after that forty-five minute mark, it inevitably devolves into you two fucking around before Lance reminds you how much more comfortable his bed is compared to whichever surface you’ve found yourself being pressed against that night.

You assumed tonight would be like any other but as you hear Lance talking, and what sounds like two other men speaking in return, you get the feeling you’re wrong.

You briefly contemplate getting that one last set in before you shoot up, eyes wide at the realization of whose voice it is you’re hearing out there. No way, you think. Shouldn’t he have his own private gym at Stark Towers?

You get to your knees and crawl over to the window of the weight room, peaking your head just up enough to be able to see who it is out there.

You fucking knew it!

Of all the gyms in this city, he had to find his way to this one.

You can’t see his face, but you’d recognize that arm and that voice anywhere. Steve Rogers stands by him, gym duffle hooked over his shoulder as Lance says something you can’t quite hear about punching bags. You sink back down to the floor before any of the three men can spot you.

You don’t know why you feel so embarrassed but there’s a very strong urge threatening to take over you and see you bolting out the back door before anyone can say a word.

…That’s a lie, actually.

You do know why you’re so embarrassed. It’s not only the decision you made but the very real implications of what that decision means…

Because really, who in their right fucking mind would ever turn down a date with the Bucky Barnes?

No one! Never you.

And yet…you did.

You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about what feelings prompted your almost immediate no from the second the rebuff left your lips.

You’re single. You have every right to go out with anyone you so please. And yet, night after night, there’s only one man who runs through your every thought.

The same man who so shamelessly flirts back with any woman in his vicinity - and makes sure you see it every damn time. You always wonder if he can see the ire you try to hide burning in your gaze. If that’s what causes his smug smirk to spread when he spots you. That glimmer of mirth in his bright blue eyes. Ughhh.

The same man who sends you completely unsolicited selfies, thirst traps, and nudes nearly every damn day. If his texts weren’t so damn incessant, personalized, detailed and pointed, you’d almost wonder who else he sends those pictures to.

The same man who calls you whenever he’s bored. At first you thought he just wanted to hear the sound of his own voice, but lately you’ve been wondering if he just wants to hear yours.

The same man whose bed you’ve found yourself sleeping in nearly every damn night the past two weeks. The nights that have put to rest your wonder of who else he gets in his bed beside you.

The same man who -

Is standing right in front of you.

Your wide eyes blink up as you feel eyes on you. Three pairs.

You clear your throat and push yourself up to stand. Lance looks like he’s about to say something but Bucky’s voice cuts his off before he can get a word out. He says your name as a question and has not only yours, but Lance and Steve’s attention as well.

One of their brows furrowed a bit more significantly than the other.

You smile at him and titter nervously, “Hey, Bucky.”

“Hi,” he smiles back. “Steve, this is,” he gestures, providing him your name in introduction. “PR…Relations?” He says, trying to remember your job title again.

“Something like that, yeah,” you laugh.

“So I’ve heard. Nice to finally meet you,” Steve extends his hand to yours in a polite shake, a friendly smile of his own on his face.

“You too,” you say as you shake hands.

Lance says nothing as he crosses his arms over his chest, and you can feel his gaze heavy on you.

“So,” Bucky says as he takes a step closer to you while Steve turns to Lance expectantly. With a bit of what you might be reading into as reluctance, Lance finally peels his eyes off you and Bucky and starts toward the boxing area near the back of the large weight room. “It’s over here,” he leads him.

You’re now standing alone with Bucky, and yet you can feel Lance’s eyes on you still. You think you like it…

Maybe he’s getting a taste of his own medicine. Unlike him, though, you don’t plan on leading anyone on just to see if he’ll care. If that is, in fact, what he has been doing to see if he can get a response from you.

“You workout here often?” Bucky asks.

“Uhm, not really, no,” you laugh lightly. “I prefer home to here but Lance is my trainer,” you nod in his direction, “we have a weekly session.”

“Oh, nice. We’ve heard good things about this place, wanted to come check it out. It usually closes early on Wednesdays, right? We had to call and set this up.”

“Yeah, it’s normally closed around six,” you say, “lucky you guys’ll have a private session.”

“You do private sessions?”

“Hm?”

“Is that why you’re here, I mean? Private session?”

“Oh,” you can feel your skin burning, “uh, yeah. Mhm,” you nod, crossing your arms over your chest.

His lips tilt up at you and you can’t not return the smile as a little silence grows between you.

“Look, before I ask again, I want you to know that I can take no for an answer, I swear,” he says sincerely, looking into your eyes, “but uh, have you given any more thought to getting dinner?”

You take a stilted breath, your brows raising the slightest bit before you blink. You wet your lips before you force yourself to speak.

“I uhm,” you turn for half a second to glance back at Lance, finding his eyes still set on you before you return Bucky’s gaze once more, “I’m seeing somebody, actually. I kinda have been…I’m sorry, I should’ve told you that the first time. I just, uh, I. I wasn’t sure what we were- are,” you shake your head, feeling a bit flustered, “it’s a little complicated, uhm,” you let out a breathy laugh.

“No, please,” he shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. I get it. Complicated.” He rubs the back of his neck, his bicep bulging with the movement of his raised arm and the hem of his shirt lifting just a bit. Gooooooood.

You’ve said no to this god of a man twice now. Hell. You must really be in deep.

“Well, if complicated ever changes, you know how to reach me,” he offers with a light smile. You nod and give a soft one of your own.

Before Bucky has the chance to walk away, Lance is at your side, startling you a bit as you look over to him.

“You finished your last set?” He asks as Bucky looks between the two of you.

“Uh huh,” you nod. He knows you’re lying as he narrows his eyes at you but doesn’t call you out on it- for now at least.

“I gotta stay a little later tonight,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his keys. You watch as he takes his house key off the ring before he holds it out to you. “I’ll be home in an hour or two,” he says nonchalantly as you stare at the key dumbly for a long second before you finally reach to take it.

“Okay,” you murmur almost so quietly you barely hear yourself.

Bucky huffs a smirk to himself in realization before he speaks, “Well, it was good running into you. Have a good night. ‘M sure I’ll see you around again.”

“Yeah, you, too,” you breathe another smile of your own as Bucky passes, touching your arm briefly before making his way over to his friend.

You force yourself to then turn and face Lance completely, your wonder evident in your eyes at his actions. “You want me to-“

“Yeah,” he cuts you off. “You’re gonna end up there anyway, thought I’d save you the back and forth from your place to mine.”

Your eyes narrow at his attitude. You’re used to his cocky self assurance and the way every word seems to be laced with a taunt, but this isn’t that. He seems…you aren’t sure. But definitely off.

“I’m gonna end up there anyway?” You question, defiance and annoyance both nipping at you at once.

“Yes.” He readily supplies, taking a step closer to you, invading your space in a way you don’t normally mind when you’re alone.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because that’s what this is.”

Oh god, you think. Maybe he heard you say you were seeing someone. Maybe he knew you were referring to him and maybe he doesn’t want you thinking this is anything more than sex. You’re not seeing someone. It’s not complicated. If you ignore the calls and texts and mid day and late night and early morning rendezvous and the cuddles and showers and pet names without malice or sarcasm reserved for only you, then yeah.

Yeah.

It’s just sex.

It’s not like either of you have ever said it’s anything else, you remind yourself.

You swallow down your embarrassment as your eyes flick toward your shoes. You spot your water and think to grab it and go. You don’t really have anything else to say. Just a lot to think about.

You don’t have time to do anything, though, before Lance’s hands come to hold your jaw, tilting your face up and forcing you to meet his eyes. They’re dark, his usual glint of taunting playfulness now gone. In its place is something much more heated, more serious. If you didn’t know better you might even say possessive…

“Because you’re mine,” he adds, voice deeper and lower as he takes another step to you. His eyes flash from your own to your lips and it’s not another second before he crashes his into yours, kissing you hard. His hands hold your head as he keeps you near him while you can do nothing but kiss him back. It’s not too long but still borderline desperate. You two don’t really kiss all too often and never this intently unless he has you stuffed full of him - and never have you kissed at all in front of anyone before.

Part of you knows he’s probably just putting on a show, wanting to prove something to who he perceives to be competition, and part of you doesn’t care. But a smaller part of you thinks maybe, just maybe, it’s not so much to prove something to Bucky - but to prove something to you.

You pull away after a second, but staying close enough to still breathe him in. You’re dazed and he knows it as that cocksure smirk spreads across his lips again after he looks into your shining eyes.

“Hydrate,” he tells you, letting you go. “I’ll stretch you out when I get home,” he winks, earning a gawked face from you as he starts to walk backwards over to the boxing side of the room. God, you pray they didn’t hear him say that. You chance a glance their way and see them already caught up in a sparring match, paying you and Lance no mind.

You see his slight annoyance at your preoccupation with what they might have heard and it makes you realize that this very random run in with Bucky might have changed the course of…whatever it is this situation has been. Is?

You have certainly never seen this side of Lance before. You again wonder what it means for him because you know well how he is.

This isn’t the time or place to figure it out, though. You give him another look and nod. “I’ll see you…then, then.”

You grab your water and go for your bag on the bench beside you, tossing the key he gave you in there and grabbing your own set to hold. You give him one more fleeting look before heading for the door, it’s like you’re trying to read his mind with every glance and you are getting absolutely nothing.

-

It’s not far from the gym to his place and you’re there within fifteen minutes. It’s a little weird unlocking his door and walking into the empty home, but you’ve been here frequently enough to not feel entirely out of place.

You refill your now empty bottle with the water from his water cooler and drink some more as you set your bag down on the couch.

You don’t know how you should wait for him, or what he’s expecting, but you’re sweaty and he’s not currently here on top of you distracting you from that fact, so you decide on a shower.

You head to his bathroom and strip down before grabbing your towel - wait no, not your towel. It’s just the towel you tend to use when you shower here. You grab it from the shelf with the other folded towels and drape it over the towel bar near the shower. You start the water and let it run for a bit while it warms before you step in.

You grab your loofah - that you only keep there for emergencies - and wash with your body wash. Again, emergencies. Once you’re clean and refreshed, you let yourself enjoy the warmth of the water gently beating down on you. And you let your mind wander.

‘Because you’re mine.’

Lance’s voice runs through your mind and sends a feeling through your body like no other. He’s never said that before. So definitely. So serious. And that kiss…

You take a deep breath and try to relax some more.

The more you think, the harder it is to deny.

God, you really are here all the damn time. And going over your daily routine you realize just how much Lance fits into it. You don’t know how you didn’t see it sooner, maybe you didn’t want to, but the truth is starting to creep up on you. This isn’t just sex.

But ah, can you really say that? All you two do when you’re around each other is fuck. You don’t think there’s been a single day you’ve spent with him that you didn’t do something sexual. So maybe…maybe you’re wrong.

Maybe it’s more of a friends with benefits type thing? You’re certainly past the point of just being fuck buddies.

But friends doesn’t feel entirely right either.

You know now, and truthfully you probably knew after getting asked out by Bucky the first time, that this is more than any of that.

You feel things for him. Things that aren’t just sexual attraction or kinship.

You don’t find yourself wondering what your friends are doing at random times of the day, smiling to yourself at the prospect of seeing them soon, no… Only with him.

You don’t find yourself craving the warmth or hold of your friends when you crawl into bed at night… Just him.

You don’t get butterflies when your friend’s contacts show up on your phone with a new message or a call… Only with him.

You don’t feel the way about your friends that you do about him.

You love your friends, yeah. But it’s not the way you-

You stop yourself before you can finish the thought.

You turn off the water and grab the towel off the bar outside the shower door.

You wrap yourself up and dry off best you can before walking out to his bedroom.

Realizing you might want to commit to a real relationship with someone and declaring that you might possibly be in love with them are two very different things. And you’re still not sure you’re ready to do the former, let alone the latter.

Do you really need to do this? To address it at all? You don’t think so. No. You don’t think you will.

So what if it is just sex? It’s been working for you both so far. You can’t deny you have feelings deeper than that for him, but you really don’t want to talk about it tonight. Maybe ever, you think petulantly.

Here’s the facts:

One, you think you really like Lance. Like, like like.

Two, you know you don’t want to get involved with anyone else - including, just as a reminder, Bucky fucking Barnes. Which again, is insane to admit.

And three, label or not, you can’t argue with him. He was right.

You’re his.

You sigh and resign yourself to the bubble of discontent sitting deep in your stomach. You’re so over it.

You think about grabbing something from his kitchen to eat but decide you really don’t have an appetite for anything. You forgo clothes, sure you’ll be rid of anything you put on when Lance gets home anyway, and get into his bed.

The second your head hits the pillow, exhaustion hits you full force. You’re beat. You try to fight it for a few minutes but eventually lose out and fall asleep in the blink of an eye. Lance’ll wake you up when he gets home.

-

It’s a tickle along your side that rouses you lightly. Your eyes open so slightly, still thick with sleep as you notice the darkenedness of the room. You’re groggy but you feel his featherlight touch again, ghosting from around your bottom, over your bare hip, and trailing up your side. You know it’s him. You’ll work through your sleep in a second, you tell yourself.

You wonder if he knows you woke up; he’s being so quiet. And he’s keeping his touch so soft. He’s laying beside you as you’re turned into him, laying on your side. You still don’t have the energy to move, still half asleep.

You make a little noise as his touch tickles up your side again and you shift into him further. You’re surprised as he shushes you and pulls you in closer. You can feel him looking down at you in the near blackened room as your face is now in his chest.

You let out a soft, sleepy moan as he gently fondles your tit in his hand, squeezing lightly, just feeling you as his thumb brushes over your peaking nipple. Your brows furrow as you turn into him to be closer and another delicate sound slips past your lips. You’re hushed again as he rescinds his touch, dragging his hand back down your body once more.

You rest a hand on his chest as you relax further into him. His hand finds its place on your thick thigh, moving your leg to rest across him.

He’s bare under the sheets, you feel him. He’s half hard and you’re expecting him to slip inside you any moment.

“Been thinking about you all damn day. Driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he seems to grouse to himself as he whispers aloud, pulling you closer yet. His skin seems a little damp and you can smell his soap. He must’ve showered.

You almost force yourself to open your eyes but you’re stopped by the feeling of Lance’s lips pressing softly against your temple as he hugs you into him. He always claims it’s you who searches him out in the middle of the night to cuddle into him, but clearly he plays a part in the way you always seem to wake up tangled in one another, too.

“Lance,” you murmur sleepily, unable to open your eyes if you’d wanted to.

“Shhh,” he hushes. “Don’t talk, just sleep.”

You don’t argue, you just turn more into him; content to do just that.

But you’re even more surprised when not very long after you both settle, you feel his breathing even out as he falls completely asleep with you in his arms.

No sex.

Hmm.

This, whatever it is…

It’s complicated.

Clearly.

But clearly, it’s not that complicated.

[slimybeth69]

Thirst: Part 2

Marcus Acacius X lady reader (no descriptions, you're a virgin though)

Summary: Your freedom had a price and Marcus Acacius was willing to pay for it... but you also had to do something for him.

Chapter 2 of 10: Stretching - Marcus shows up with more Gifts. (Look at him, showing up like he's about to do something...he is...he's gonna do something.)

Rating: EXPLICIT -- Shameless smut with a little plot

a/n: NO SPOILERS to the new movie. This is cross-posted from my AO3 account and I just and 2 more chapters locked and loaded after this one, so... if y'all like it lemme know! (i love to chat)

WARNINGS: dubious consent, ownership, loss of virginity, mutual mast., exhibitionism, voyeurism. mentions of being a whore. Sexy toys, Marcus talks you through it.

It’s been two days since you’ve seen that Gods forsaken General again. You thought he was going to take your fucking flower that night after you little little discussion over shard wine on the balcony… he slept in your bed that night! He never does that! He left in the morning and said he’d be back as soon as he could. 

What a fool you are for believing him. 

You’re naked now, laying out on the balcony touching yourself thinking about him though. You cannot help it. The way he spoke while he touched himself last time. The way you spoke to him!? You’ve been writhing around waiting for him to come back to give you release. Let him put his mouth on your slit or something! You need release and you are tired of your own fingers. So fucking tired of them. You wanted Marcus! You wanted him so badly. 

There are two of your forsaken fingers inside yourself. Your knees are bent and legs are spread wide as you sit back against the lounge chair. Your free hand pinches and tugs at your nipples frustratedly as you attempt to make yourself come. You’re not holding back your sounds of pleasure because you desperately hope someone will look up at you or maybe see you from another balcony. You like being watched, just like Marcus apparently. Why didn’t you just do this for him from the start!? You’d probably no longer be a virgin. 

Your head is thrown back and your eyes are closed because it is starting to feel so good. You imagine how it’s going to feel when he enters you for the first time— if that ever happens. Gods, you hope so. His cock is so beautiful and throbbing whenever you see it. You know it’ll be hot. Erections are always hot in your hand. 

“What a beautiful sight.” His voice in your head is so inviting and you curl your fingers even faster against that spot the Gods planted so deeply inside of you. Why is it so far away!? You can barely reach it! You’re desperately trying to plunge your fingers deeper. “That’s it. Rock your hips.” His voice isn’t in your head! He’s here!

You rip your fingers from within your pussy and try to cover yourself in shame and horror with your arms and hands. He’s chuckling looking down at you from behind your chair. His eyes flick to the street below and the surrounding balconies. 

“What are you doing here!? Why did you sneak up on me!?” You snap at him and pull your knees together and close to your body. He is still chuckling and gently places a brown burlap sack in your lap. 

“I have another gift for you. A couple things.” He sits beside you in his chair and waits for you to open the bag. You peek in and are appalled. 

“What do you want me to do with these!? I was expecting you!” You exclaim in annoyance at the bag of sex toys on your lap. Hand-blown glass that looks like his cock but smaller! Another glass toy that looks like a spade but softer! Rounded and circular. You’ve never seen anything like this one as you take it out of the bag to inspect. It’s got a dull, rounded tip and tapers into a thick base and then is thin again with a large glass bead at the end. 

“For your ass.” Marcus smiles at you. “The other one is so I do not hurt you. I’d like you to enjoy it. Not be crying.” 

“Is it really that bad?” You scoff at him and gently place the ass toy in the bag with the glass cock. 

“I might hurt you. I'm bigger than most men. I hurt women who take cock daily.” He smirks at you and now you’re fearful. “Let me use them on you today– right now.” He’s smiling and reaching for the bag. “I’ll show you how to use them, and then you can train for me. I’ll watch and make sure you’re doing it correctly.” He pulls the cock from the bag and scooches his chair closer to yours. “Lay back like you were.” 

You open up to him without another word because he’s going to touch you. Holy shit. Touching and putting something inside of you? That’s a start, better than being stared at. Yes, okay. You bring your knees to your chest but spread you legs wide. Marcus sighs softly and rubs the tip of the cock against your tight, virgin hole. No one else has ever been in there. Just you and your fingers. You were so scared now that he said it might hurt but your heart it galloping in your chest. Fully about to overwork itself and stop completely as he pushes the tip inside of you. 

Your jaw drops open as you stare at him. His eyes never leave yours even as he pushes it into you so slowly. 

“Painful?” He stops and pulls it back out slowly until there is nothing left inside of you. You shake your head silently. With this, he pushes forward again— his eyes drop down to your cunt so he can see you take something besides yourself for the first time. Now his mouth is the one hanging open as he’s moving this clear, glass cock inside of you. 

Marcus made sure to get one close to his girth and thickness so you’d have no problem adjusting to him. The length he had was hard to replicate so he did what he could. 

You’re doing so well and biting your bottom lip as the stretching and pain start to take over. You grimace softly and close your eyes. Marcus stops moving completely and when you look at him, he has curiosity in his eyes but no expression on his face. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks with his velvety smooth voice that just dances around inside your head as you pant softly. “Don’t hold your breath. Breathe through that pain until it feels good, Little Dove.” He coos to you gently. 

“Okay,” You whimper softly as he pulls the cock from within you slowly. There were six inches to this glass cock and you had two inside of you before it started to hurt. Marcus chuckles at the memory of your confidence the other day and when you left the brothel. 

“Touch your pretty tits for me. I like watching you tug at them. Makes me want to bite them. Suck on them.” Marcus whispers as he pushes the toy forward again. You mewl softly and roll your hips gently at the words he spoke to you. Your hands– both free now– find your sensitive and hard buds in your fingers and tug them gently, rolling them softly. “Perfect. It’ll make your cunt wet when you do that. Make it easier to push this into you.” 

“Okay.” Your panting quietly as he speaks. Your eyes never leave each others. 

“I’ll do those things to you soon. Suckle on your breast, bite at your beautiful nipples. I’ll make you wet for my cock, soon.” 

Marcus pushes the entirety of the toy into you and you jolt and close your eyes. It’s not as bad as he was making it out to be, but still not comfortable. Like a pinching feeling inside of your pussy. It’s not the worst but it is not great. You suck air in through your clenched teeth and he holds it within you. 

“Breathe. Relax your muscles and feel yourself adjust to the thing inside you.” He whispers into your ear encouragingly. “You can do it, Little Dove.” He is so reassuring that you believe you might actually be able to do this. 

“Okay.” Your murmur and unclench every muscle in your body. Marcus starts to twist the cock around inside, while holding it deeply inside of you. Moving it one way and then another. Grinding it against your hips as his free hand finds his cock underneath his tunic. You start to pant now from the pleasure he is bringing you. The now warm glass touches that spot inside of you that is placed just out of reach from your desperate fingertips. 

“Does that feel better now? Is it starting to feel so good?” He says almost mockingly but you love it. He’s cooing to you and you can see his arm moving up and down on himself under his tunic. You can’t see his cock and you wish to the Gods he would pull it out so you can look at it. It’s like he’s inside your head or seeing where your eyes have fallen. “Do you want to watch now, too?” 

As he speaks he lifts the skirt of his tunic above his waist and tugs his cock downward to show you his impressive and intimidating length. He strokes himself, downward like that instead of holding it up against his stomach. He’s leaned over, still pushing the glass toy into you. The tip of him is driveling and almost about to drip off of him. You bite you bottom lip and whimper softly at the sight and the feeling inside of you.

“Do you like it now? Do you like me?” He’s smirking at you as his strong hands stroke his length. The drop of precum that had been threatening to fall from his seam finally does; it drops right to the floor and something inside of you says that you should lick it off of the balcony.

You flick your eyes up at Marcus and he’s watching himself tug on his cock the way he is. He sees the drop on the balcony. He snaps his eyes up to yours and sighs softly.

“You’ll taste me soon enough, Dove.” 

“Okay...” You moan softly as he starts to withdraw the cock from within you. He does that slowly until there is nothing left. You feel hollow and lost without that feeling inside you. With desperate hums of need you rock your hips forward towards the tip of the cock. Marcus smiles and you can see his perfect teeth when he does. 

“I love the desperation in your heart and cunt. I know you want to fuck me. I’m not going to hold back like this when I do.” He pushes into you quite forcefully, with the quickly cooling glass toy. You gasp and quiver. There is still a dull pain when it does it but nothing like before. It’s just a full, stretched feeling. Like you could never be more full. It’s incredible. Breathtaking. “I won’t be able to control how fast…” Marcus starts to thrust the cock into you. “Or how hard.” He is pushing the cock as deep as it will go, the thick, still cold glass balls of it are pressed flush against your perineum. It sends a shiver through you when the connect with the sensitive warm flesh. 

“Oh my Gods.” You whisper. There is no breath inside your lungs to speak real words. The thickened head of the toy inside you grazes and rubs your spot lovingly and perfectly each time. “Oh, Marcus..” You whimper up to him. He sighs softly when you speak his name in the breathy tones of your first real feelings of pleasure from something inside of you. 

“Fuuck.” He groans softly and strokes himself faster. He is rock hard and so soft at the same time… you can see it’s stiffness sheathed with his bronzed flexible skin. It’s a paradox as you look at it still drooling. “You worship me and I will worship you, Dove. Say my name again.” He is fucking you with this toy and it’s not slow or gentle. He is trying to get you to scream his name and you just might. 

“M-Marcus.” You whimper happily up to him. “It’s s-s-so good.” You let your head fall back against the chair and sigh happily. You are just warmth. It’s such an incredible feeling what he is doing to you. 

“Do you like that we could be seen?” He pants to you. You nod without looking at him because the feeling that's building between your stomach and cunt is overwhelming. “Fuuuuck, my Dove. You are naughty. You want someone to see what The General does to his perfect girl?” The thrusts he’s giving you with this glass cock are making your tits bounce as you continue to tug and twist your nipples. 

“Yes. Yes.” You pant breathlessly. “Yes, I do. I’m going t-to scr— oh my Gods, I’m going to scream.” You groan loudly as the air finds your lungs again. You are overcome with this feeling in your lower belly. It’s incredible and you’ve never felt like this before. 

“Do it. Scream for me, Luna Flora. I want to hear it.” He is panting but he has his voice. It’s deep and demanding. Ordered to you like you are one of his soldiers. “Come for the first time on a cock, perfect girl.” He is softer and coos this demand to you. 

It’s like fireworks going off inside of you. Over and over again or just one big firework that takes so long to go explode completely. You do not know. You’ve only seen them once from this balcony and they were loud and frightening. This is not loud or frightening. It’s quiet– like all the sounds have been stolen from the world. Your chest feels heavy and weightless at the same time. Like there is a lion sitting on you while the Gods try to pull you up to them by strings wrapped around your ribcage.

It’s incredible and you are screaming now, you scream his name and clench your eyes shut as the walls of your cunt clench down around the cock inside of you. It is not forgiving or soft. It is just hard as you clench down around it. 

The pressure behind the cock is gone and you’re shocked by this. You feel it slipping from within you slowly. You cannot to react to this feeling and try to push it back inside of you because Marcus is standing over you, one hand on the chair beside your head, the other still around his cock. 

“You’ll be artwork when I’m done with you.” He leans forward and presses his lips to yours hungrily and groans into your mouth. You feel yourself being splattered and splashed with his releases. It’s on your chest and neck and now you can feel it dripping onto your stomach. 

You both jump and pull away from this embrace at the sound of shattering glass. Marcus jumps back in alarm and drops the skirt of his tunic. You knew what it was before it happened but it still startled you. The glass cock slipped fully out of your cunt and tumbled to the stone balcony. You’re just as shattered as the glass cock. It was incredible and you would have used it every single day. Every day until he had come back to see you again. 

“Don’t be disappointed, Dove. I can get you another.” He sees the sadness and heartbreak on your face. “You wont really need it after today, though. I’ll enter you tomorrow and we will break in that other new toy of yours.” He leans down again, his face only inches from yours. “You’ll know the real feeling of full tomorrow, Dove.”

And then that motherfucker leaves again. You're still naked on the balcony. Now you're sweating and still panting and your pussy is leaking down onto the chair you're still seated in. He didn't even really touch you! Just shoved a glass clock inside of you! 

Gods help you. This is torture!

I hope you all love this and wanna read more-- let me know if you do! -Ms. Slimy Elizabeth

[temis-de-leon]

When they don't know you as well as they thought they did

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

C/W: the boys are crushing on MC and it's implied MC is crushing as well, but there isn't any established relationship. Just friends feeling things for their friend, very common. Self-insert, perhaps?

A/N: this is just fluff, very silly, a little ooc maybe, but I'm not sure. I just wanted to make something fun and lighthearted after the recent news.

.

No one is surprised anymore at the firmness the brothers speak with when they call you part of the family. Between the pacts and the unsolicited free therapy, it’s only fair, and only an idiot wouldn’t be able to see the affection running through the House of Lamentation.

Still, there are instances every once in a while where, although it’s difficult at the beginning, the boys have no other choice but to accept the fact that you have a completely different life back in the human world and they may not know you as good as they would like.

It starts with the small things; embarrassing conversations where their ignorance gets you to laugh like a maniac more than a couple of times. There they are, blushing in self-consciousness while you cackle uncontrollably because they believed some urban legend about a faceless suited man with freakishly long arms.

Then, slowly, but surely, it turns into more personal things about you, like your irrational, downright, phobia of lizards or the fictional characters you’re surprisingly attracted to.

(Some of those aren’t human, which makes them all feel a strong sense of hope, but you don’t need to know that).

The brothers learn about your studies, favourite subjects and what you’d like to do with your future, even if it sounds hopeless or unlikely. They also keep every bit of information about your friends and family; little comments that you let go here and there and help them understand why you are someone they love so much.

The whole situation evolves in such a way that inviting them to your birthday party in the human realm seems to be the obvious next step.

‘It’s so I can celebrate it with all my loved ones’ you say, and they really can’t deny your offer after that.

So, after a few awkward introductions and half-truths about their origin, everyone is happily talking to each other and eagerly waiting for their turn to be with you.

.

Lucifer, who has had a special interest in your family for a while, finds himself chuckling in understanding when your mother complains about the occasional mess in your room. In your defence, he feels obligated to partially throw his brothers under the bus and blame them for keeping you in a constant state of disarray, but then she says something that… perplexes him.

You don’t like perfection? His eyes open wide at the revelation and your mother chuckles, misinterpreting his expression. She doesn’t know who he really is or what he represents, after all.

Just how vast is the veracity of that statement? Does it refer only to a state of mind or do you apply it to everything else?

Thankfully, he doesn’t have time to feel too anxious before he remembers the little details. When your triumphal smile shone in the dimness of his room that time he made a silly mistake in chess, ultimately granting you the win; or when the Anti-Lucifer League managed to leave his hair unkempt for an entire day, which got you to shamelessly look at him for longer than any of his younger brothers would’ve ever liked.

Not being perfect isn’t something he would ever do consciously and he had always found solace in the fact that you like him despite his mistakes. However, knowing you actually like him because of those mistakes? Perhaps letting those cracks show in his façade isn’t so bad as long as it is for you.

.

Not far from him, Mammon chats with your human best friend. There’s an air of competitiveness between them, both wanting to be the ultimate best friend, but it all stays light-hearted. There’s no real threat when Mammon gets to be your first demon, you know? It’s a unique position!

But he still makes sure to assert dominance by stating he would’ve made the perfect party for you, better than the one you’re currently enjoying; with food and decorations from the Devildom and the Celestial realm included, matching outfits and, of course, keeping everything hidden so you can have the best surprise of your life. He had thrown a lot of those with Asmo’s help back home, so he knows you love them!

Or he thinks you do, at least.

Your friend sniggers harmlessly when they hear that last part, pointing at him with an infuriating smartass attitude, and immediately shatters Mammon’s reality.

What the heck do they mean, you don’t like surprise parties? He’d done a lot of those back at the Devildom and you’d never complained, appreciative as you are, even helping him do the same for other’s birthday parties!

Sure, you had always looked dumbfounded by the loud cheering and the confetti after stepping through the door, but that was part of the fun… right? You would tell him if you wanted him to stop, wouldn’t you?

He feels a pang in his heart when the idea of you being uncomfortable for his sake appears in his mind, but it doesn’t make sense. While you undeniably treat him better than anyone else in all of the realms, you still correct him when you see fit and him making you unhappy on your own birthday would be one of those occasions.

He trusts you to confide in him when things are wrong just as much as you trust him to do his best. That’s what friends are for, after all.

.

And where else would Levi be if not hidden in a corner playing with his DDD?

He had tried mingling with people at the party, or at least tried hanging around them, he swears, but conversations became repetitive and boring and then he received a notification for a daily reward from one of his apps, so, of course, he had to sit down to collect it. Then minutes passed as he completed minigames to power up his cards and… you get the idea.

So when a friend of yours walked towards him, complimenting the pins and badges on his bag and the faint music coming out of his headphones, sure, the evening started going way smoother.

He talks enthusiastically, just like any other time his interests are mentioned, wildly gesturing with his hands and letting the little bubble around them be full of their eager exchange. However, a casual lament from his companion stops him right in his tracks.

It’s a shame you don’t like anime…? His first reaction is to laugh, enumerating everything you’d watched, and later commented on, with him under a blanket in the tranquillity of his room, but the utter surprise in your friend’s face leaves him speechless.

You really don’t like it? But… But he’s made you see so many things! Did you like any of them? Did you lie to his face when you said you enjoyed them? He would’ve never chosen a best friend like that; you were not like that and he refused to believe the contrary.

Also, would a liar buy merch on their own like you did? Would they watch the best episodes again or listen to the soundtrack on repeat when they had a bad day? This new revelation only makes him aware he was the one to change your perspective of the fine arts and he’s damn proud of that.

You are still getting an earful when you get back home, though.

.

Satan thinks the kid is a young cousin of yours, but he really hasn’t been paying attention to anything in a long while. How could he, when the enthusiastic toddler had taken their mother’s phone just to show him the family cat’s pictures and videos?

A Mackerel tabby cat, too chubby for his own good but not enough to be actually concerning; playing with feathers, blinking slowly, bumping his head against legs and shoulders, meowing sweetly and, basically, opening his heart in half and making it roam inside his chest like a butterfly.

What a good party.

He mentions all the stray cats behind his house, obviously leaving behind the name of the House of Lamentation and the Devildom, and all the times you’ve gone with him to feed them and play. Satan even shows pictures on his DDD and stops with an adoring expression when you appear on the screen, sitting on your toes with a kitty on your knees and smiling past the camera, straight at Satan.

However, what he hears next takes the air right out of his lungs. He sits down and clutches his pearls and the kid stares at him in anxious confusion, clearly witnessing but not understanding the severity of his distress.

Who, in their right mind, doesn’t like cats?

He remembers the first few times you had accompanied him to his route, intimidated and slightly lingering behind. Initially, he had assumed it was due to the novelty of your friendship or a possible fear of Devildom fauna, but nothing against cats!

Were you afraid of them or just plain uninterested? Why keep going with him if you weren’t as fond of them as he thought you were? Wouldn’t it be because of him, would it?

A warm feeling covers him like a blanket, makes him search for you with his eyes and then immediately blush when you excitedly wave at him, point at the kid and mouth ‘Cute cat!’

Yeah. Very cute.

.

On the other hand, Asmo hangs out with the people responsible for the decorations of the party and compliments them on their work. The colours are well-coordinated, there’s nothing out of place and the distribution was thought with all the guests in mind.

Although he hasn’t been able to help in that regard, he’s made sure you would be the centre of attention that evening; a complicated feature coming from him, but he had never minded sharing the main spot just as long as you were the one by his side; and everyone knows that.

You look cute and pretty and hot in your outfit, a style that both compliments and pleases you. You also worked together in your makeup for hours before getting to the party.

However, taking that much time might have been due to scrolling through social media and gossiping so much, but never mind that. Everyone agrees you look incredible and that is more than enough for him.

It isn’t until one of your friends mentions how weird it is to see you wearing makeup that he dares take his eyes away from you to stare at them in disbelief.

He would’ve never guessed that given that one of your favourite pastimes together is makeup as a whole: going shopping, watching tutorials, following trends, doing your own next to each other, doing each other’s… And, even if he wants to use it, his charming power is useless against you, so he knows you do your makeup because you want to and not because you feel forced by him.

Whether it’s something you share because you enjoy it or something you enjoy because you share it with him, he isn’t sure, but he can swear on his precious damned soul that makeup isn’t a need for you.

It’s just a bonus to your beauty.

.

Sitting at one of the tables, Beel is simultaneously talking to your older sibling while gulping down an entire plate of bite-sized snacks; thankfully, whatever apprehension anyone felt at his hunger died hours ago and now the conversation flowed more naturally, mainly centred around you.

As much as he loves having you near him and his brothers in the House of Lamentation and thinking of you as another member of the family, he is very interested in knowing how your human family is, especially your siblings. It’s another way of relating to you and making him feel closer.

Plus, he gets to know stories from your childhood you may never tell him on your own; anecdotes that will stay at the table he is currently sharing with your sibling.

Unfortunately, they reach a point where, although he wants to keep asking questions about you, doing so with a mouth full of food might end up with Lucifer’s scolding of the year. Also, he really wants to make a good impression.

So your sibling begins asking the questions. Surprisingly, they start with his tattoo; dark red curling around his muscles and almost going unnoticed under the colours of dusk. Beel smiles without giving it any importance because it really doesn’t have it, but forces himself to stop gulping down food when your sibling throws a fun fact about you.

You find tattoos attractive?

He feels an instant burning on his cheeks followed by the rapid beating of his heart and a knot in his stomach, but there’s also a faint unpleasant sour taste in his mouth.

You’ve never asked him about his tattoo, barely sparing a glance at it when you worked out together or he took off his jacket.

He wonders if you don’t like it or if you think it doesn’t look good on him because all he can remember is the focused look in your eyes while looking at his and the curve of your smile growing bigger as you listen to whatever he says, even when it is entirely about food, and…

You know what? He doesn’t really mind. He is fine with things as they are.

.

As both a friend of yours and a fellow younger brother, Belphie respects your sibling’s decision to spill your darkest secrets and thoroughly enjoys the air of comradery between them.

Don’t worry, he won’t let it go past actual serious matters; if you want him to know any of that, he’d rather have you telling him yourself when you’re ready and not get betrayed by your sibling. Silly and harmless pieces of information, however? Those are more than welcome.

And he already has a favourite.

You need to hug plushies to sleep? Tell him more. He doesn’t judge you for feeling the need to hug toys or pillows while sleeping. Actually, he understands.

Do you have a favourite? Is it in the human realm or is it in your room back at the House of Lamentation? While he can recall seeing that ugly zombie iguana on your bed, he’s never seen you cuddling it while sleeping and, other than that, he doesn’t remember seeing one, so he wonders if you hide it somewhere when you know he’s going to your room; but what about those times he enters uninvited?

Does that mean you left your preferred plushie in your room in the human realm? Does that mean that you don’t actually need to hug anything to sleep?

Whenever you share a bed, which is pretty frequent, Belphie can sense an invisible barrier between you that he’s dying to break. It’s nothing physical, given that only he knows how truly comfortable your lap and your chest are, but it’s obvious in the way your hands hesitate to bring him closer.

Shy and indecisive, while you don’t reject his advances, he’s still unsure what your feelings on the matter are. He’d initially thought you weren’t used to having anything so close to you while sleeping, but… now… Maybe he has to assure you that you can hug him as hard as you want.

Belphie is just as good as any plushie, after all; if not better.

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010  @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[halfwayhearted]

please do a part two of es por ti if ur not busy!! and mayhaps in a specific situation where they get in an arguement and fem!reader talks to one of the guys and he recalls a moment where hector talked about you and it ends where hector’s freaking out and then reader is just like 🫂🫂🫂

thank u!! i love ur work btw 💝

Compartir — Héctor Fort.

Pairing: Héctor Fort x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a small argument with your boyfriend, you’re trying not to show you’re upset around him and his friends. Thankfully, one of his friends noticed and shared stories about Héctor talking about you. You weren’t so upset after that.

Word Count: 590+

Disclaimer/s — Mentions of an argument, just comfort/fluff.

A/N: HI, HI, HI. I LOVE YOU BAAAD, THANK YOU. AND. AND, Héctor Fort if you can hear me please. Please… save us 😭😭 Also, there’s no need to read Es Por Ti before this one, it can just be read as a oneshot! Whatever you want to do :3 !!!

It really wasn’t that hard to just… communicate. Was it? No! No it wasn’t. So you didn’t quite understand why Héctor couldn’t, especially when it involved him being injured. “It’s just a strain, I’m fine!” He’d say, but you’d still like to be aware.

Walking slightly behind him, you keep your gaze trained on his leg, just making sure there’s no limp. He told you there wasn’t… you didn’t listen.

The boy glances over his shoulder, lets out a sigh, and mutters your name, “What’re you doing?”

“Just—” you paused with a frown, “Does it hurt?”

“I told you it feels fine. If it didn’t, you know I’d tell you.” Just as you’re about to interject, he cuts you off, “But I didn’t mention it in the first place, right? I’m sorry I didn’t. It wasn’t really a big deal.”

Your frown only seems to deepen at the sight of him looking away from you to greet his friends. Pau is the first to say hi, and you smile, “Hi, Pau.”

Next is… oh, Pau—Pau Victor. He waves and says his hellos before turning his attention back to Héctor, who’s in the middle of asking questions about their recent match from three days ago.

All you did was stand there. What else could you do while they talked about football? Sure, you’d usually join in, but with you already being upset…

Right. Yeah. Maybe not… perhaps another day!

Feeling a nudge to your shoulder, you lifted your head to meet Cubarsí’s gaze. His eyebrows pinch together when you don’t immediately smile at him, which was weird. Then, he speaks, “Want to hear about what Héctor here did the other day?”

Your interest was piqued within the first three words: “Of course. What did he do this time?”

“We were in the locker rooms, right?” He started, and you nodded. “We saw he got a new water bottle and asked where he got it from. I guess us asking that question pushed a button in his mind, and suddenly he was talking our ear off about—”

“Hey—wait, what are you guys talking about?”

Sparing him a glance, you shoot him a small smile while looking back at Pau, who’s trying oh-so-hard to refrain from giggling. “He talked our ear off about you, saying that you got it for him and that it was probably better than any other water bottle he’s ever had.” In the midst of talking, Héctor swipes a hand to the back of his head, making the boy before you laugh and dodge him.

It definitely doesn’t stop him from continuing! “Did you know that even after he’s done talking about you, he’ll find a way to bring something up that still has something to do with you?”

Your boyfriend groans, “You’ve told her this, Pau.”

“Because it’s true.” He retorted with a shit-eating grin. “I’m sorry! It was way too good not to share.”

All he does is huff and roll his eyes, making you lean toward him. Your hand slides over his hips as you hug him loosely. “Didn’t know you liked talking about me so much. It’s flattering, really!”

“Uh-huh,” he grumbled. “Can you blame me?”

That elicits a smile to grace your lips, and you squeeze him one more time. “I guess not. No.”

Héctor hums, his arm moving to rest over your shoulders. You two stay like that, conversing with his friends and having a good time. It wasn’t how you thought it’d go… you were happy that it did.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @spidybaby + @iovepoem + @sakashq + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ

[lunarsilver]

What awaits you in December?

Used: Moonology Oracle Cards

The pictures are from a Genshin Impact fanart by DSmile (also DSmile9 and DSマイル).

REMEMBER

I’m not a doctor, a psychiatrist, a therapist nor a psychologist. Divination will never replace meetings with them.

It’s a general reading, so not everything will resonate.

If you can’t choose between two piles, probably both of them have some messages for you. You can also not identify with any of them, and that’s okay, too.

Readings can help you make a decision, but they shouldn’t be the main reason for making it.

1 ~ 2

3 ~ 4

PILE 1

Full Moon in Virgo - Full Moon in Leo - North Node - Back of the Deck: New Moon in Sagittarius

The messages on the cards are: “You are good enough”, “Don’t let pride get in your way”, “Step out of your comfort zone” and “Luck is on your side”.

In December, you’ll struggle with being not too humble, not too prideful; with finding the right balance between the needs of you and the needs of people you care about. There’s a difference between self-esteem and arrogance. Some of you, once you stop second-guessing yourself, will do something creative. Others may need to apologize for mean comments, or a friendship ends. After you deal with the problems with your self-esteem, you’ll be ready to leave the past behind and do what feels right. It’s time to explore, to have fun and to widen your horizons. Do this project you’re thinking about. 

PILE 2

Disseminating Moon - Full Moon in Aquarius - New Moon in Cancer - Back of the Deck: Mutable Moon

The messages on the cards are: “Take time to breathe out”, “Show the world the real you”, “You and your loved ones are safe”, “Nothing is yet set in stone”.

Here, it looks like something big already happened to you in November, and December is the time for seeing its consequences. A time of reflection is coming, of assessing your position. You may feel like everything is slowing down, but that’s okay, that’s needed! Then, as December progresses, you’ll experience more emotional matters. It’s never good to spend too much time only in your head, staying in touch with your emotions is important too, after all. Someone who was distant earlier can now be more communicative. At the end of December, there will be some new start in your private life, most likely related to your family or people you live with. Maybe you’ll move to a new place. Just make sure to not neglect yourself while having so much attention on other people. The card at the back suggests that December for you is about a change that you can influence.

PILE 3

Gibbous Moon - Full Moon in Virgo - New Moon in Virgo - Back of the Deck: New Moon in Leo

The messages on the cards are: “You’re very close to achieving your goal”, “You are good enough”, “A time to give rather than take”, “Confidence is your key to success”.

Two Virgos next to each other, huh. Okay, pile three, don’t get distracted, you’re really close to achieving what you want! Starting December, you’ll be finishing the work on whatever you started earlier. Don’t worry too much, just keep what you’re doing, hard work brings results. Yes, you’re good enough. Yes, your project will work out if only you commit to it to the end. After that, you’ll think about what you want to do next, so the end of December is the time of planning for you. For some of you, health may be important - you’ll start reinforcing good health habits at the start of the month, and you’ll see a positive change by the end of it. The card on the back only reinforces what I’ve said before: it’s about success in a creative project, feeling prettier and more confident (maybe thanks to your better health habits?), and getting the attention you want. It won’t just materialize by itself, of course - again, do what you’re doing and be proud of what you bring to the table.

PILE 4

Gibbous Moon - North Node - New Moon - Back of the Deck: Supermoon

The messages on the cards are: “You’re very close to achieving your goal”, “Step out of your comfort zone”, “A new start is coming!”, “Emotions are running high!”.

This reading is pretty straightforward, pile four (before I realized it, I already pulled out two out of four cards lol, the cards didn’t have to think too much about what to say). At the start of December, you’ll work on something and be so close to a satisfying conclusion, so don’t get distracted! Literally both North Node and New Moon talk about leaving the past behind, so it’s time to live more in the present. You’ll move in the right direction and start something new, exciting and definitely positive. And the card at the back? It’s about a big success, about having a lot of energy, about positive outcomes and good things. This may be quite an emotional month as well. You don’t have opportunities like these everyday, so take action! Sorry for not having more specifics, but the cards are just hyping you up and encouraging you to take the chances you’ll see.

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

part iii (part i + part ii)

(due to sims doing everything but what i wanted them to, this extended into night and the screencaps were terrible - i apologise)

“Avery, I feel like our potential isn’t necessarily reflected by your score, and much of that was my doing. You just seemed to catch me when I was in the middle of a Moment and was not exactly feeling receptive towards anyone. And among those who did… less well, you were one of the few who actually initiated flirting with me and who seemed to really try. So let’s take this as an opportunity to refresh and maybe have a second shot at things. I’ll be seeing you very soon.”

“Jayla, you’re clearly having a ball and I enjoyed being in a household with you. But so far you haven’t seemed all that drawn to me, and I feel that at least in terms of romance, I’m the one putting in all the work. You are one of eighteen, and it seems like you’re not sure why you’re here. Let me know whether you want this - or not - but let me know. See you for Round Two.”

the final four...

“You know how it goes. I have only one of my strawberries left, and I am not splitting it four - just who the plum comes up with these things…”

“Forest - considering your strong start, this is a long way to fall. We have potential and you’ve shown hints of sweetness, but you keep on pushing me away - and your autonomous mean interactions? Not okay. It wasn’t cute when boys did that in grade school, and it’s far from cute now. If your aim is to sabotage yourself, then you’re succeeding spectacularly.” (Forest: nervously sweating...)

“Lee - much like Forest, yet worse. While I get the sense that Forest has the potential - and maybe even the want - to be something better than his past behaviour, you on the other hand seem perfectly happy with just how you present yourself. Well, I’m not. I like the version of you who is friends with Tiago and who has some moments of vulnerability, not whatever this is.” (Lee: unbothered, totally convinced this is all a ruse...)

(Araminta: hoping to the old Watchers and the new that Forest is going home...)

“Piper - if only we had even a little romance, my dear. But at least with me - or perhaps even with life in general - that just doesn’t seem to be what you’re looking for, and that’s okay. You stepped out of your comfort zone to try something that doesn’t come naturally to you, and for that you’ll have my eternal admiration. But I’m afraid that this chapter of your story ends here.”

“Aubrey - you’re here for a good time, but sadly not a long time. One of the most gorgeous sims I’ve ever laid eyes upon, and I really enjoyed your sense of fun, your mischief and your creativity. As there’s no spark between us, however, let’s just say it’s been real and move on. You were a delight to get to know - I hope we can catch up again after the show.”

“Forest, something is telling me not to let you go just yet. And if I’m wrong, then more fool me. This is a second chance for… whatever you need it to be, I guess. Those don’t come around often, or at all. Make the most of it. And if there’s any more mean behaviour - I may no longer be a werewolf but I’m not completely without bite. Man up and grow up, or get out.”

“Lee, here’s your fifteen minutes. Best of luck in building on them. And as the autonomy settings are driving the Watcher crazy - Araminta, you absolutely don’t need to talk to your horse Every Five Seconds - we’ll say our proper farewells tomorrow.  Sorry for the lack of decent screencaps, everyone, but you only have your pixel selves to blame.”

“Hey beautiful, so I totally know this is all a stunt. You have to leave the audience on a cliffhanger, right? Don’t worry, I’ll play along. I am a supremely talented actor after all - I can even cry on command!” “Mhmm…” (reflects on how that’s only a Level 2 interaction in the ACTING skill)

how scores were calculated

Ooof, I really wanted to take more of the bottom three in particular, but I was also this close to ejecting my EA folder into the sun. They will however each get a proper farewell from Lilac (and a thank you from me to their watchers) and their very own shiny post in broad daylight when hopefully the in-game lighting is better cooperating.

Also now we know just what Forest was up to that very last day. That little so-and-so realised that he was on thin ice and thus was skillbuilding like there was no tomorrow - which for him was almost the case! I will be including Aubrey's, Piper's and Lee's score details in their farewell posts and you will see just how close it all was.

@x-digitaldollhouse-x @tipsy-clouds @riverofjazzsims

@plasmafruittree @sleepyselkiesims @fl0pera

[silkenwinger]

i'm just a station on your way

simon "ghost" riley x reader - a cupid/psyche retelling of sorts

part one

He takes off his mask in his room.

Well, that’s to be expected. Even if he wore it as a security measure, or to hide scars– the comfort of his own private space is enough to make him take it off. It has to be uncomfortable and sweaty, too.

Although, at that point you’d expect to see his face.

“Ghost, I–”

“Don’t even try it, Sergeant. Lights off.”

You didn’t even finish, nor really articulate anything, but you shut up real quick at orders anyway. His mouth is on yours to cover any other protest as he presses you against the door, and your mental freakout ends definitely as his fingers come to brush against your core.

Later, as you catch your breath on the spacious lieutenant issued bed, your curiosity spikes again. You are resting your head on Ghost’s left arm, the one you know is painted with ink well over his elbow. His blond ish hair is surprisingly soft on your cheek. He starts stroking your side with his other arm. Your own hand raises, as if it has a mind of its own, and lands on Ghost’s cheek. He jerks almost imperceptibly, but you still feel it, as close as you are. 

His skin feels normal: a high cheekbone, the hint of a stubble. You don't know why you're surprised.

“Regretting it now?” He speaks, throaty voice and secluded tone, like he actually fears your answer. 

“Nah,” you answer, “checking you are real is all.”

Nothing much changes in your outward relationship after you two start sleeping together. You try not to show your undying loyalty to him to others, and he's just good at not letting anything out. Your trysts are mostly consumed in his room, and sometimes, exceptionally, in yours. You don't really know why he chose you over anyone he could have– and you know he's liked, since you have ears and eyes. At least in those hours spent in the darkness he’s all yours and not the country’s. 

It’s like you know two versions of the same man. The Ghost that looms around base, kills enemies quietly as they strangle out a choked gasp, and always has a way out of a building on fire. The Simon that cuddles you, lets you bury your nose in the juncture between neck and shoulder, and navigates his room in the dark, even though you told him you could close your eyes while he turned the lights on.

You reckon he really, really does not want you to see his face. But as he is in his right to be insecure, or really careful about his privacy, you’re in your right to let it affect you. Not a lot. Just a little bit. 

Who are you, even, to get offended by it? It’s not like you’re his girlfriend. By certain metrics you’re barely friends.

One day while you’re in training you start putting on your gear distractedly. It’s yet another trail course that will have the corporals coughing up a lung, since there’s a high chance of it being orchestrated by Ghost and/or Soap. There’s a couple of guys you’re especially worried about. Not to be the classic bleeding heart of a woman in the army, but… ugh. 

Suddenly you feel a pull behind you. Ghost stands at your back, his hands fiddling with the last clasp you had yet to hook. He latches it quickly and tests its resistance, brown eyes going over the rest of the gear. You look at him from your shoulder and smile at him. He has his ways of caring.

After the predictable hardship, you’re in the mess trying to enjoy some peace when a tray slides in front of your eyes. An abundant serving accompanies a satisfied Soap: a man whose greed (but also generosity) knows no bounds. He’s whistling now, rubbing his hands as if he’s some animal ready to dig in.

“Hi?” you start, unsure. You two are on pretty good terms, you may even reach the status of friends, but you thought you had made it clear enough you didn’t want to talk. Not clear enough, it seems.

“Hello. Mind if I sit here?”

“No.”

“Good. Anyways…” He then starts recounting the whole morning exercise, going over the most problematic parts. You nod at his remarks and add small comments, but it’s mostly a solo endeavor. He has no qualms over it and seems perfectly content with your input. You’re done eating while he’s still halfway through, and you’re thinking of ways to slip off, citing paperwork or the likes, when he stops talking about work and puts a hand on his jaw.

“Oh, lass, I was wondering… how’s Ghost’s mug, by the way? You see we’ve been working together for a while and I’ve never got to see it, got all curious about it.”

You try to muster an expression of pure neutrality as you deny it all.

“What are you talking about?”

“Come off it now… no sense pretending, no?”

“No, Soap, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What, are you ashamed? No need to be ya keen. I see the appeal.”

You’re now pretty sure blood has risen to all of your face. You’re being read so easily and quickly you’re asking yourself why the fuck did you even go through all those torture trainings if Soap can dismantle you this easily.

“Okay. How do you even know?”

He smirks, blue eyes glinting. “I didn’t but now I do. So? How’s it?”

You feel yourself dry up even more and immediately rush to damage control.

“You can’t tell anyone. Really, Soap. You know it’s not allowed.” He scoffs and even has the gall to shrug.

“No one gives a fuck, really. Price can’t talk cause he’s been sleeping with the head nurse anyway.”

“Yes but Ghost is my superior, you know that’s not-”

“Sooo? Is he ugly?”

“Soap!”

“Lass!”

You almost yell, but bite your own tongue. The last thing you need is the whole mess turning to see what two sergeants are arguing about. You bury your face in your hands. Might as well come clean.

“I haven’t… I haven’t actually seen it.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“But you’re sleeping together! I even saw you coming out of the barracks once, and today he was all over you.”

“Yeah, and I’m telling you we are doing it in the dark.”

“You’re kidding me…” he says, jaw-slacked and eyes wide. Then he recovers and crosses his arms, expression morphing into a serious one.

“Now, that’s just not proper.”

“Are you my mother telling me it’s bad to sleep with someone who’s not my boyfriend?”

“Not that… I’m talking about not showing your face to the girl you’re with. Pure shite behaviour in fact. I’m kind of disappointed in LT, gonna be honest.”

You feel an urge to defend Ghost at all costs. Yes, it hasn’t been easy. But you’ve been coping. Being with a restricted version of him is better than not being with him at all.

“It’s fine. You know how he is… I can’t force him anyway.”

“Nah, lass. He’s being a monster about it. And I know it bothers you as well, can see it in your eyes.”

“Soap…”

“I’ve said my piece. I can talk with him-”

“What?! Are you crazy? You’ll shut your gob, Soap, or help me God.” You breathe in once, twice.

“I get what you’re saying, okay? But as I said it’s fine. We’re nothing official. Whatever comes… it’s enough.”

He levels you with a look that makes you want to claw out of your skin. But he just sighs and gets up. He takes his tray in one hand and comes to touch your shoulder with the other.

“Just think about what I said, okay?”

You’ll think and think again.

[silentscrying]

🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track three: something about a beat

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, hopeless stupid pining, alcohol, mentions of deceased parent, maki is Fed Up, anxiety, unbearably cute dogs. || sfw. 9k words.

“OKAY, IT’S UP,” Nobara says, grinning at you over her laptop. You’re sprawled across the living room at Takuma’s place, surrounded by a random combination of your band and his while others are in classes. After spending last night mixing the single, Takuma helped Nobara set up an artist profile for the band, and now your music is available on streaming services. Just like that.

“That’s so weird,” you say, grinning as you pull up Spotify on your phone. Next Fix by Cursed Technique. Strange to see your face on there, a photo taken of all of you by some freshman when you last performed at The Fix. Nobara sends the link in your group chat, and Toge responds within seconds.

freak no. 1: FAME freak no. 1: FORTUNE freak no. 1: wait it’s not opening freak no. 1: nvm i’m just stupid

“Does he ever pay attention in class?” Nobara mutters. Maki snorts.

Yuta is also in class, but that means he’s locked in, all his devices on Do Not Disturb. You don’t think Toge’s turned DND on a single time in his life.

“I’m going to Kinji’s!” Kirara shouts from the front entryway, and Yuji leaps to his feet and disappears down the hall, barreling back out of his room seconds later.

“Wait! Can you give this to Panda while you’re there?” He hands her a drive, and Kirara rolls her eyes and takes it.

“You need to slow down every once in a while,” she says, ruffling Yuji’s hair. “Okay, bye. I’ll be back in a few hours.” The dogs follow her to the door and return the living room when she’s gone, curling up on either side of Megumi, who’s busy writing some paper in the corner.

“What was that?” Nobara asks.

“Demo drive for the radio station,” Takuma says. “Panda plays our stuff sometimes. I bet he’d play yours, too.”

“That’d be sick,” Nobara says approvingly. She turns to bother Megumi, poking at him until he takes his headphones off and talks to her, and Yuji strolls into the room and flops down directly on the floor.

“Comfy?” you ask, poking him with a socked foot.

“Mm. Yeah.”

“Ah, look what you did, Kugisaki,” Megumi says, and you look up to see Shiro trotting toward you with her tail wagging, having abandoned her post at her owner’s side.

“That was not my fault! You’re the one who moved.”

“Because you kept poking me!”

You immediately slide off the couch onto the floor, letting Shiro sit in your lap. “Um, excuse me,” Takuma says, offended. You crane your neck to look up at him behind you on the couch. His face is lit up by his computer as he works on a string of code he tried (and failed) to explain to you, and there’s laughter in his eyes despite the affronted tone of his voice.

“Favorite,” you inform him with a wide, cheeky smile. He very maturely sticks his tongue out at you.

“Toge message,” Nobara informs you all, reading off her phone. “He says omg we have four listeners do you think they’re writing slutty fanfiction about us already.” She glances at you. “Petition to remove him from the chat—oh, look, he started sending the wolf memes again.”

Hanging out like this has become natural so quickly you almost forget you haven’t been friends with Shibuya Incident for ages. You feel almost as much at home in the tapestry-covered living room here as you do in the plant-filled kitchen of your own house down the street.

Maki checks her watch, sighing. “We should get going soon. The guys will be back in half an hour.” Then you have rehearsal, even though you’re not one of the three bands performing tomorrow night. When you do take the stage next week, you want to be ready.

Nobara is trying to read Megumi’s texts over his shoulder, which isn’t working out well for her, and he tells Maki, “Yes, please, take your invasive little gremlin home.” He puts his hand right on Nobara’s face and pushes her away, and she screeches and tries to tackle him, but he’s already sitting in a beanbag chair in the corner, so it doesn’t really do much except make Kuro jump on top of them both.

You glance up at Takuma again, still stroking Shiro’s fur while the others start to stand, ready to head home. “You rehearsing today too?”

“I’d hope so,” he shrugs.

“Yes, dipshit, in two hours. If you ever read the group chat,” Megumi says.

Takuma doesn’t seem fazed by Megumi’s irritation and just shrugs. “We have a new song for tomorrow.”

“You didn’t tell me!” You poke at his knee in retribution for his secrecy. “I wanna hear it!”

“You will,” he says. “Tomorrow.”

“Skipper, help, I don’t wanna walk our gremlin home by myself,” Maki calls from the door, and you reluctantly pat Shiro on the head and stand. She follows you to the entryway and sniffs at you while you cram your feet into your sneakers.

“Maki Zenin.” Nobara turns up her nose and crosses her arms over her chest. “If you hated me so much, why didn’t you just say so?”

“Bye!” Yuji shouts from the living room, and you all call out varying goodbyes and noncommittal sounds before making your way out the door and down the block, the afternoon air chilly against your cheeks.

Nobara waits all of ten seconds before spinning around and walking backward, grinning at you mischievously. “I bet Ino wrote a song about you.”

“Oh my god. Shut up,” you laugh. “He didn’t.” You can’t imagine you’ve given him all that much to work with. What would he write, that you like coffee and drums and Megumi’s dogs?

“Why else wouldn’t he show you? Don’t you guys text each other song lyrics like the little romantic fucks you are?” Your face is flaming, and you’re suddenly very grateful for the cool of the wind against your skin. The idea of him writing a song about you plants something weird in your gut—not something bad, just something unexpected and warm and blooming.

You try not to show it and your friends see right through you, Nobara turning back to skip up the drive with a satisfied grin and Maki rolling her eyes at the both of you.

“I’m gonna write a song, too,” Nobara declares, unlocking the door and pushing her way inside. “Skipper and Ino, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S—”

This time, you and Maki speak in tandem. “Shut up!”

—

“There’s a joke here,” Gojo says, tapping both of his index fingers together while he thinks. “About being a drummer and a journalist. Something about a beat.”

You laugh, jotting another note on the lined paper of your small spiral notebook. “I hate to tell you, but I’ve heard that one before.”

You’re not sure features qualifies as a specific beat, more of a broad category, but your staff isn’t nearly large enough to assign people to smaller specialties. Plus, it’s a college publication, designed for experimentation and growth. Nobody wants to be boxed in yet. That’ll come later, out in the monotony of the real world, and you’ll be confined to some hyperspecific beat like neighborhood crime or high school basketball.

“No!” Gojo cries, dragging his hands down his face like it’s the end of the world. “I can’t believe somebody plagiarized me before I even said it.”

“That’s not how that works,” Utahime cuts in dryly, sliding three shots across the counter to the waiting group of sophomores and then effortlessly throwing together another cocktail.

Gojo leans toward you, shadowing out your notes, and stage-whispers, “You see what I have to put up with?”

You do, actually, see what Utahime has to put up with. She long ago put down a line of blue painter’s tape to divide her side of the bar from Gojo’s, and she preaches frequently that there will be dire consequences if he crosses it.

Of course, he crosses it at every opportunity, and here he is, still.

It’s also just how the two bartenders split up the work, the customers, and you write that down too, that it’s an effective division of labor. “Don’t read my notes,” you tell Gojo as he squints at your writing upside down. “It’ll wreck the journalistic integrity.” He sticks out his bottom lip in a pout that reminds you violently of Toge, who’s taking photos of Utahime as she works.

You glance over to the stage, where Angel is performing the last number of her set, a bouncy, belty song that you recognize from a video she posted earlier this week. The crowd loves it, dancing around and singing along, but still, you think she’ll have a tougher time making it through as the only solo artist remaining in the competition.

You whoop and cheer as she hits her last note, holding it for an ungodly amount of time, and Gojo eventually has to abandon his teasing to do his job. When Toge thinks he’s got enough photos, the two of you slip back into the crowd, Panda commentating on the change of artist as you catch up to your friends.

“And now, here’s your alt rock duo, your boys, the Kamos,” he says as you come to a stop beside Yuta. “Give it up!”

Nobara very loudly gives it up.

“Hi.” Yuta nudges you. “How’s the reporting going?”

“Good.” Noritoshi and Choso settle in on stage, tuning their guitar and bass and making girls swoon in the front row but somehow remaining entirely oblivious to it. “You’re not going home tomorrow, right?”

Yuta shakes his head. This weekend is fall break, which just means that there were no classes today. You spent the first day of your three-day weekend cramming for midterms.

Toge’s heading out after this and Nobara will leave early in the morning, but Maki and Yuta will be here for the weekend. You wonder about Takuma and his band, but you can’t ask right now—they’re all backstage, waiting to go on after the Kamos.

The boys in question, when they’re not doing covers, have incredibly nonsensical song names that have little to nothing to do with their lyrics. The first track of theirs you ever heard was called Song About the Time My Dog Got Lost for Three Hours.

“Okay,” Choso says after their cover of a song by The Smiths. “This one’s called Please Don’t Tell Your Mom I Was At Your House Past Curfew.”

He and Noritoshi then proceed to play the most upbeat, energizing alt rock shit you’ve ever heard. You love these guys, and the crowd does too, the way they don’t take themselves too seriously but they’re genuinely talented. But it’s making you nervous for Takuma and his band, because only one group goes on tonight. Only one.

No, you think, shrugging it off. They got this.

When Shibuya Incident finally walks on stage, the ensuing roar of applause before they even do anything eases whatever worries you might have had. They were slotted at the end of tonight’s set for a reason. Everyone loves them.

Without prelude, they launch into a song you recognize from their EP, a fast-paced track with a pretty simple chord progression that gets entirely flipped on its head in the bridge. You let Yuta spin you around as you dance with the rest of the crowd, the lights and sound washing over you. Yuji’s in his element, Kirara is fucking killing it, and Megumi—as always—is the rock the band stands on, unerring tempo and steady presence keeping everyone on track.

After the song finishes with a crazy riff from Kirara, and the crowd takes a minute to freak out and then slowly wind down, Takuma grabs the mic to address the audience.

“Hi again,” he says, scanning the clusters of people from his place on the low stage. His gaze lands on you and your friends, and he smiles a little wider. “That was Godspeed. We’re gonna slow it down a bit for our next song. It’s a new one. We’re calling it Curious.”

Nobara practically launches herself over Toge to get to you and shake you by the shoulders. “What did I say?” she hisses.

“Oh my god,” you say, shoving her off. “They haven’t even started yet.” But you look back at Takuma to find he hasn’t stopped looking at you.

To your surprise, the instrumentals don’t start first. Most of Shibuya Incident’s music opens with a riff or a fill or at least four bars of introduction. But this time, Takuma leans into the mic and starts singing, just a low “ooooh,” and the rest of the band comes in one by one—Megumi, then Kirara, then Yuji. Kirara’s harmonizing on a higher note, and the effect is a slow, dissonant build that makes you lock in, all anticipation.

Then Takuma tugs the mic from the stand and sings,“I see your eyes, curious, curious, you wanna know why the sky’s so goddamn blue. I hear your voice, curious, curious, you’re asking me if I’d ever fall for you.”

And as you listen, Nobara’s smile just gets wider and wider, and Takuma keeps making fleeting eye contact with you, and you realize abruptly that she was right.

This song is about you.

Takuma’s said it to you before, in passing, how he likes the way you look at the world—through a journalist’s lens, curious about how everything works, always searching for unseen answers.

“Wish I could see my life like you do,” he and Kirara sing in unison. “Wish I could walk the streets each night… wonderin’ if the full moon sees you, but I just keep lookin’, lookin’ down at the time.”

You’re transfixed, just like the first night you saw Takuma perform live, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the stage if you tried. Someone should write a story about him, you think. This man could be on the cover of Rolling Stone and you wouldn’t question it.

God, you’re so far gone, aren’t you?

When the set is over, the last song finishing with a long, drawn-out chord, Takuma thanks the crowd and hands the mic off to Panda to take over. As the band disappears one by one into the backstage area, he lays out the voting process.

“The voting period will last ten minutes, assuming no technical difficulties,” he says. “QR codes, as usual, are posted around the bar. If you’re a competitor, you can’t vote. Make sure you’re logged into your .edu accounts or you won’t be able to access the form…”

Your fingers are tapping nervously at your thighs, the crowd around you already glued to their phone screens. The band isn’t back out on the floor yet—Panda will call all three artists up at the end of the voting period and announce the finalist live.

Sweat is starting to pool in the palms of your clammy hands, and you wipe it on your jeans, anxious. To you, there’s no question. But it’s not up to you.

“Relax,” Yuta says, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “It won’t even be close, Skip.”

After the longest ten minutes of your life, Hana Kurusu, the Kamos, and Shibuya Incident join Panda back on stage, a dramatic spotlight bouncing between each artist as Panda draws out the announcement. “And the artist from tonight moving on to the finals in two weeks is…”

“Just say it,” Maki huffs beside you, and Yuta chuckles and nudges her with a shoulder. She tries to hide the slight upturn of her lips, but that’s not going to slide past you.

You’ll tease her later. For now—

“Shibuya Incident!”

The reaction is explosive, both on the floor and the stage. Yuji practically leaps onto Kirara’s back, and Takuma’s face goes slack in surprise before a shy smile works its way across his spotlit features, Megumi being his nonchalant, unaffected self in the midst of it all. Nobara is screaming, and you’re yelling at the top of your lungs, Toge whooping and snapping photos as the Kamos and Hana crowd the band, congratulating them on the victory.

Takuma looks out into the crowd again and you wave, smiling unabashedly, so fucking proud and excited and thinking maybe, maybe, if you make it too, you’ll be facing off against each other, and wouldn’t that be something?

Maybe you shouldn’t be so thrilled. He’s the competition, after all.

But if he wins for going up there and singing curious, curious with his eyes locked on yours, you suppose it wouldn’t be all that bad.

—

Most of Saturday passes in a barrage of classwork and inconsistent, snacky meals in between, the diet of a harried college student, ramen and chips and whatever actual food Yuta leaves for you in the fridge. He’s back from work by three, and Maki wraps up her own work around the same time you do, late afternoon creeping into evening. The three of you are curled up in the living room, the TV on while Yuta and Maki try to pretend they’re not looking at each other.

You need to get them alone.

you: are you busy takuma: not at all takuma: what’s up? you: mind if i crash your house?

You glance up and swear Yuta has somehow, in the last two seconds, moved closer to Maki on the couch.

you: i think yuta and maki need some ~ALONE TIME~ takuma: TEA takuma: sorry kirara told me to stop saying that in response to everything that happens ever takuma: it’s fun tho

“I’m going to Takuma’s,” you announce, and Maki raises a brow at you.

“Again?”

“Sue me for having friends.”

Yuta’s brows crease a bit at the word friends, but he doesn’t comment. With a furtive glance back, you grab your shoes and slip out the door, successfully leaving Maki and Yuta alone in the house for an indeterminate amount of time.

Please, you think. One of them has to make a fucking move soon.

Takuma answers the door before you can knock. “Hey.”

“No pups today?” you ask as you step past him into the entryway, kicking off your shoes.

“Sadly,” Takuma says. “Fushiguro took ‘em with him, wherever he went. Ah, man. Did you only come over for them?” His tone is teasing as he closes the front door behind you, trading the October cold for the warmth of the house. “Afraid I’m a letdown.”

“Takuma,” you scold at his self-deprecation. “You’re basically an excited puppy yourself, so—”

“Hey!” he squawks, and then thinks about it and tilts his head, conceding. “Fine. Maybe. Yeah, okay.”

“What have you been up to?” you ask as the two of you make your way to the living room.

“Procrastination. Guitar instead of homework, mostly. You?”

“Same,” you sigh. “Well, not the guitar part. But I should have been way further ahead on my homework by now.” You shrug. You’ll get it done; you always do.

You settle in easily on the couch, and the two of you boot up the Wii and play a few rounds of Mario Kart because someone left the disc in. And when you’ve both beaten each other enough times to lose count, Takuma mentions something about your single and you realize you haven’t checked the stats.

“You can see more on a computer,” he says, and you follow him up to his room, where he cedes control of the device to you. You pull up the artist profile and grin at the steady upward climb of listeners. It’s not a ton, but this only went up on Thursday.

“We haven’t even done anything to promote this,” you admit, spinning in Takuma’s desk chair to face him. “I don’t even know how people are finding it.”

He immediately looks down, which means he knows something. You nudge him with your foot. “What? What does that face mean? Takuma.”

“I maybe gave Panda a drive of the mix,” he shrugs, talking fast like the meaning of the words might elude you if he mumbles enough. “And he maybe played it at the radio station earlier today. Several times.”

A wave of affection crashes into you so fast that you jump up and throw your arms around him without thinking, laughing into his shoulder. “You didn’t have to do that!” You pull back, grinning. “That was really sweet. Thank you. Seriously.”

“Ah, it was nothin’.” He reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck, a gesture you’ve come to recognize as self-conscious.

“Not nothing,” you say softly. He smiles.

After a moment, he glances at the window and seems to come to a decision. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey yourself.”

“Wanna go out on the roof?”

You blink, processing the words, instinctively looking to his window. You’ve never really realized it before, but it opens out onto a flat expanse of shingles, a perfect lookout right outside Takuma’s bedroom.

Your grin is answer enough, and he unlatches the window and pulls it open. He glances back at you, up and down, and you feel yourself blush before you realize he’s taking in what you’re wearing. He grabs a thick jacket from the closet and tosses it to you, then shrugs one on himself and leads the way, gripping the window frame with one hand and pulling himself outside. After a moment of consideration, he reaches back in and grabs his acoustic guitar by the neck from its place against the wall, pulling it out with him.

When the window shuts behind you, you’re immediately grateful for the protection of the extra layer. Even with your hands balled in the sleeves of your hoodie, it’s chilly out here.

You’re surprised by how much of the campus you can see spread out in the distance. It’s early evening, but the days are getting shorter, the sun a misleading blaze of heat in the otherwise cold hour.

“This,” you say, “is fucking awesome.”

“Right? I called dibs on the room as soon as we toured. For this.” He grins, leaning back on his palms, legs spread out in front of him. You lie back on the roof, letting the cool surface seep through your hood, staring up at the sky.

“So Maki and Yuta,” he says, shaking his head fondly. “Are they finally a thing?”

“I don’t know, but if they’re gonna do anything about it, it’s not gonna be while anyone else is home.” You shrug, or at least do whatever approximation of shrugging you can when you’re bundled in a bulky hoodie and jacket and lying on a roof.

Honestly, Yuta and Maki are some of your favorite people on this planet, and you can’t imagine anyone else who really deserves them. They’re the de facto mom and dad of your group—as in, Yuta is the band mom and Maki’s the gruff father who won’t admit his affection for the pet he didn’t want to get but ended up loving anyway.

“Man, I’m glad I wasn’t around when Kirara and Hakari were in their pining phase,” Takuma chuckles. He pulls his legs in, sitting cross-legged, and picks up the guitar, idly tuning it as he speaks. “Then there’s Itadori, probably picks up girls everywhere he goes and has never once realized it.”

“What about Megumi?” You let your head loll to the side, looking at Takuma with the guitar settled in his lap.

“Fushiguro? I don’t know, man, he doesn’t tell us anything. He has like, resting yearning face. I’ve got no idea. I don’t even know where he is right now, just that he’s supposed to be back really late.”

“That means the dogs will be back?” you say hopefully.

Takuma shakes his head, strumming another chord, and another, fingers moving deftly across the frets. “I’m not enough for you, huh?”

“I said no such thing.”

He plucks out a happy little melody on the guitar, looking at you. “Wanna learn?”

You sit up, your hood falling back off your head in the process. “Really?”

In answer, he hands you the guitar, scooting closer to you to show you where to place your fingers. You’ve been around your bandmates enough to know the basics, but you let him teach you anyway, giggling a little when he guides you through a three-chord progression and says, “Damn, you’re a natural.”

He leans back and stares at the sky, listening to you play. Eventually you add a few other basic chords into the mix, varying your strumming patterns, already feeling the strain in your fingertips from the unfamiliar press of the strings.

“So,” you say, still idly messing around on a G chord. Takuma props himself up on his elbows, looking over at you. “What was the incident in Shibuya? Have you been to Shibuya?”

He snorts. “Nope. Honestly, it was more to make people ask the question. You know in the Marvel movies, how Hawkeye and Black Widow are always talking about Budapest?”

“And nobody knows what the hell happened there,” you say, laughing. “Ah. I see.”

“I’ve never even been to Japan,” Takuma admits. “Fushiguro has, though. Maybe he had an incident in Shibuya. Who knows?”

G, C, D. D, C, G. You play the chords over and over, strumming softly, slowly, letting your finger catch on each of the strings, then five of them, then four.

“This is a really nice guitar.”

“Yeah.” There’s a beat of silence that makes you glance up, weighted differently than the usual pauses in conversation. Takuma is sitting up now, knees pulled loosely to his chest. “Was my dad’s.”

“He taught you to play,” you remember aloud, recalling your conversation in the coffee shop. But now you’re hung up on that word: was. Part of you doesn’t want to ask, but part of you feels like his words are a sort of quiet invitation, like he wants to tell you, but doesn’t want to force it. “I… is he…?”

“He died when I was twelve,” Takuma admits, eyes fixed on the sky. “Uh, car accident. It was stupid, some issue with the other guy’s car. Couldn’t stop it.” You’ve never heard his voice like this before, taut, oddly thin. Carefully, gently, you set the guitar on the roof beside you, watching him.

“Were you…”

“In the car?” Takuma sniffs. “Ah. Yeah.”

“Oh,” you breathe, and that’s what it is, more of a breath than a word. “I—Takuma…”

When he laughs, there’s no humor in it. It’s a hollow kind of chuckle, one that says everything he can’t. “It’s why I learned to skate, actually,” he says quietly, not meeting your eyes. “I’d get everywhere that way. I didn’t—want to drive, I guess. Got my license late and everything. I think people thought I was just a slacker.”

Whatever words you might scrounge up feel inadequate for a grief this large. You don’t want to pity him, and you don’t want to dismiss him, and that’s always the problem with hard conversations, isn’t it? What a line to walk.

“You’re not a slacker,” you say eventually, and he raises a brow at you. “I mean, maybe you procrastinate coding projects to a worrying extent, but you always get it done.” You smile thinly. “You don’t give up in any way that matters, Takuma. I like that about you.”

He chuckles. “Nanami said something like that, once.” His eyes go far-away again, just for a second. “He’s kind of the closest thing… like… I don’t know. I’ve known Nanami for a really long time. He was my dad’s friend. And I guess he sort of became a father figure, after…”

He shrugs. “It’s probably a big part of why I decided to go here. That, and it’s not too far from my mom’s. I don’t know that she’d have been thrilled if I went somewhere farther.”

“You’re not home,” you say carefully, a question but not question. “For break?”

“She’s on a business trip,” he says. “So not much point. But I’ll see her at Christmas, at least.”

For a while the silence stretches out comfortably between you, like a weighted blanket. You can’t ignore it, but it isn’t unwelcome. At some point you scooted closer to him, and now you sit side by side, only the layers of your jackets separating you.

“Thank you for telling me,” you say eventually, soft, unwilling to break the quiet. He nods.

“You didn’t go home either,” he points out, an unspoken question in the spaces between words. “Is it just ‘cause you’re from so far away, or…”

“Yeah. A Friday off didn’t feel like enough of a break to warrant a flight back.” But that’s not all of it. His silence tells you he knows it, too. He’s been so candid with you all night. You can share this part of yourself, you decide.

There’s something about Takuma, anyway, that makes you want to tell him things. You want to know him, and you want him to know you—you now, here, at school, but also you there, home, in the past.

“I haven’t been home since July,” you admit, hugging your knees to your chest, mirroring him. “My town is… small. I liked it when I was little. But the older I got the more I started to feel, just—I don’t know, stifled?”

Your hometown used to feel huge, like you could explore it forever on your Razor scooter and never find all its secrets. But you grew, and the town didn’t grow with you, and suddenly you were standing outside your high school realizing you knew every corner of the self-proclaimed suburban city, every street and coffee shop and alley. You’ve always been curious. And at some point, there wasn’t anything left in that place for you to be curious about.

“I love my home. I love my parents. It’s just… I needed to get out. I don’t think they ever really understood that.”

It’s easier to admit things when you’re looking straight ahead like this, out over the lines and curves of buildings, picking out street lamps, watching a few stray cars make their way around slow corners.

“Is it what you wanted it to be?” he asks quietly. “Here, I mean.” He nods out to the vast stretch of campus, spread across the city. So many corners you’ve been here years and haven’t found them all.

Campus is weird on break, you muse, looking out over the darkness. A whole parallel world for you to explore, the shadowed version of the place. A video game map on single-player, a dead server. Hardly any lights on in the windows, no kids out on the street. Like a ghost town. But it still doesn’t feel empty to you. There’s so much promise in it.

“Yeah,” you answer after a moment, soft. “Yeah, I think it is.”

A ghost town that isn’t lonely, somehow. You could write a song about it, you think. Friends with all the dead in my ghost town. The phrase plays itself out in your head, and it sounds like something moodier than your band usually goes for. It sounds like Shibuya Incident.

You wonder if this is what it means to be in a relationship—not a romantic one, necessarily, but a friendship, or any kind of bond between two creative people. If it’s this, the sharing of intellectual property with another person to the extent that their voice and yours start to blend.

It’s in the way Nobara can finish your sentences when you’re throwing out potential verses, scrambling for rhymes. How Toge and Yuta can anticipate each other’s movements, match chord progressions without talking about them. How Maki slips into your tempo seamlessly, every single time.

And now your lyrics sound like something his band would play. Maybe Takuma’s songwriting will start sounding like yours, too.

You don’t think you’d mind.

“Can I tell you something?” Takuma murmurs after a moment, sounding hesitant.

You rest a cheek on your knees, hands clasped together in front of your shins, facing him. “Mhm.”

“That song last night,” he whispers, and he’s not looking at you, just staring out at the rapidly darkening campus. “It was about you. And how you—I don’t know, the way you look at things. Like they’re always so full of potential. I wish I could do that. You just see things and want to know more. I like… watching you, being curious.” He pauses for a beat and then quickly adds, “Not in like, a creepy way! Just—I don’t know.”

A chuckle slips through your lips against your will, the darkness hopefully hiding the color in your cheeks. Maybe you can blame it on the cold. “Watching?” you ask, teasing. “I can’t imagine I’m all that intriguing. There’s a lot of cool people around here, y’know.”

“Skip,” he murmurs, and now his eyes are locked on yours. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.”

Every nerve in your body is hyperaware of his proximity, and his hand reaches up to cup your jaw, the touch ghosting over you, barely there, hesitant. A nonverbal question. Is this okay?

You lean into the warmth, letting his breath wash over you, mingling with your own in the space between your lips, smaller and smaller and smaller.

He’s watching you, closely, giving you a chance to pull away. So many words exchanged tonight, but you don’t need any for this.

You don’t pull away.

It’s slow at first, and soft, and hesitant. The shingles dig into the heel of your hand as you lean forward on one arm, a grainy feeling on your fingertips, in the grooved imprints left by the guitar strings. You find your free hand moving up to his shoulder, pushing, guiding him down until his back is pressed against the roof and you’re over him, lips locked with his. You look at him, and he’s so full of potential. You want to know everything about him, you want to know how he works, you want to ask questions. And you do, with your tongue along the seam of his lips, and your hand tangled in his hair, and his breath mixing with yours in the air. It’s near full dark now, feeling later than it really is, evening in autumn.

You’re not cold anymore.

He deepens the kiss, body coming up to meet yours, and you feel like maybe this roof is the top of the whole world, because how could you ever feel higher than this?

“Takuma,” you murmur, and you kiss him again, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this way before, but you’ll do maybe anything in the world to feel this way again.

And then a sharp, deep sound makes you jump, scrambling to sit up on the shingles, breathing heavy from the kiss and the noise. Did that come from inside or out?

“What—”

“Oh, crap,” Takuma groans, pulling open the window. “Someone’s home.” He looks back at you, cheeks flushed from the cold or the kiss or both, looking a little helpless, a little apologetic, and you can’t help the small laugh that bursts from you at the absurdity of the situation. You feel like a teenager getting caught by your parents.

“We should…” He nods toward the window. You hand him the guitar, then crawl back over to the window and slip inside after him, the warmth a stark relief from the temperature you’ve gotten so used to. Your heart is a jackhammer, rapidly pecking away at the once-stable structure of yourself.

You kissed him.

You kissed Takuma.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out with still-cold hands.

utah: [1 Image Attachment] utah: dinner?

Admittedly, the pasta does look amazing, and your stomach grumbles as if on cue.

“I should go,” you say awkwardly, holding up the phone for Takuma to see.

“Uh, yeah, uh—for sure, no problem, I should go see what’s up down there anyway,” he says after a beat of hesitation. “I’ll see you, uh…?”

“Around?” you finish, laughing slightly.

“Yeah,” he echoes with an amused half-smile as you make your way down the stairs. “Around.”

—

You’re freaking out.

It’s 4:31 on Monday afternoon, you’ve been listening to the same song on repeat for an hour, and you’re freaking the fuck out.

After Saturday night, you didn’t talk about it. You kissed him on the roof and your heart turned into a hummingbird and you were warm all over, and then the front door slammed and you nearly jumped out of your skin, and Megumi was back early and Takuma had no idea why, and you pet the dogs and then slipped out, wanting to give them their space.

And you haven’t talked about it. You haven’t had time. Sunday was a mess of cramming for midterms and your housemates returning from break and you threw yourself into your studies and tried not to remember, but now…

The stupid fucking switch in the back of your brain has flipped itself on and you can’t turn it off, all worry and criticism and hypothetical worst-case scenarios and you’re giving too much too fast, Skipper, you know better than this!

How many people in your tiny town fell in love young and grew to resent each other? How many of your high school friends grew up with divorced parents? How many breakups have you seen in your two and a half years at this university, how many tears and shouting matches in public halls, how many friend groups falling apart because two people fell in and out of love?

The thing is, you know you’re panicking about nothing. Takuma hasn’t asked anything of you. It was just a kiss. He is not your boyfriend. This is not a contract.

But if you talk about it, it could be, and you don’t understand why that scares you so much. Do you have commitment issues? What the fuck is your problem?

You probably wouldn’t have a problem at all, if you’d just had the time Saturday night to figure out what the kiss meant. But now that a whole day has passed and you haven’t seen him and you don’t know for sure, your mind keeps wandering down paths it should have stayed away from.

What if it’s a friends with benefits situation and you’ve just read too much into it? Maybe this is all he wants, making out, spending late nights together getting physical. Maybe that’s all. A heated makeout session on a roof doesn’t mean he feels the way you do. And do you even know how you feel? Fucking hell.

It’s the anxiety talking, the more logical part of you says, the part that sounds an awful lot like Maki. Your friends aren’t around to tell you how stupid you’re being, so the only texts you and Takuma have sent since Saturday night are playlists and song lyrics skirting around whatever truths you’re trying and failing to articulate.

Do I Wanna Know floats from the speaker on your desk, your phone next to your head on the bed, facedown and dormant. Do I wanna know if this feeling goes both ways?

Your door slams open and you jump up, whirling around to find Maki with her arms crossed, leaning on the frame. “Alright,” she says. “That’s the tenth time I’ve heard that godforsaken song. What the fuck is up with you?”

When you don’t respond, she steps inside and closes the door behind her, pauses the music, and then makes herself comfortable on the edge of your bed. “Talk to me,” she says. “You’re driving yourself crazy.” The words stall in your throat, useless, stagnant things as you avoid her knowing stare, instead staring at the popcorn ceiling until it blurs.

Maki sighs and shifts entirely onto the bed, turning herself to face you.

“I didn’t know you were home,” you say lamely.

“You’re driving me crazy, Skip,” she tries, and she knows you so fucking well, because the guilt trip is exactly what dislodges all those words built up in the back of your mouth—she breaks the dam and you spill your soul onto the quilted comforter, rambling, a rush of truths and things you thought you’d hidden from yourself but you can’t anymore. And she just listens, not looking away once.

You tell her everything: that you know you catch feelings fast, too fast. That despite your bleeding heart, you haven’t really been in a long-term relationship since high school. That you think of the future, of all the places you want to go, all the things you want to do, and there’s no guy in those dreams, and the thought of restructuring the life you’ve planned out for yourself around a boy who might be temporary is too much to even fathom. That—

“I kissed him,” you say breathlessly, bordering on hysterical, and you feel so stupid, this worked up over something so small, something that should be good. “I kissed him and now it feels real and now I’m freaking out.”

“I can see that,” Maki says calmly. “Let me ask you something. What is the worst thing that could happen, if you date him and it doesn’t last?”

“I…” You chew on your bottom lip, mind spinning through every bad outcome. “He could end up hating me, Maki. I could get some crazy job and have to leave, or he would come with me and leave his whole life behind and then he’d grow to resent me and we’d just be in some kind of hellish limbo until one of us snapped. Or he could—he could leave me, or we could try long distance and he could fall in love with somebody else, or I could, or—or—”

You flounder for a second, realizing your biggest worry is the one most immediate, the one most central to your life as it exists right now.

You’ve been sitting here thinking about big-picture things that are so far out, trying to make the feeling curdling in your gut feel like a valid reaction to a major life event. But that’s not what this is.

You’re just really, stupidly, pathetically scared that Takuma kissed you and didn’t mean it.

“Or—I guess that’s not the issue. Not really,” you admit quietly, not looking at Maki. She probably already knows. She has a way of knowing exactly what’s bothering you and just asking the right questions, getting you to talk yourself out of whatever hole your anxious mind has dug.

“I—it was just a kiss. What if he doesn’t want something serious right now, and I like him this way and he just wants something casual? I can’t do casual, Maki,” you say, raking a hand through your hair. “And it could fuck up this thing we have going. Yuji and Toge get along so well, and Nobara and the boys and Kirara, and Megumi’s your cousin, and I don’t wanna cause some weird, awkward rift, you know what I mean?”

Because it’s been so good, getting to know them. You don’t want to fuck up the dynamic just because you caught feelings too fast.

Maki leans back against your wall, humming as she thinks this over. “Okay. First of all, take a step back. Do you actually think you and Ino dating or not dating or whatever would mean I stop talking to my cousin? Or Nobara to the guys?” She raises a brow at you, unimpressed. “Seriously. I love you, Skipper, but you do not have that much power. These relationships existed before you knew Ino. Yuji is incapable of having conflict with anybody. And Toge doesn’t give a fuck about awkward relationship drama, he just wants to play Smash.”

As she speaks, you can feel your heart settling back into its home in your chest. Maki always knows what to say. Always.

“Second: Let me put it this way.” She levels you with a serious look. “You are so worked up about all these incredibly hypothetical situations. If you shut this down now, if you don’t act on what happened on Saturday, you’re still going to be worked up about hypotheticals. They’ll just be different ones. I know you, Skipper, you’re gonna drown yourself in what ifs. So you have to pick the lesser evil. There’s an unknown factor either way. Which one is gonna be worse?”

You groan, faceplanting into your bedspread. In the process, your forehead must hit play on your phone, because all of a sudden Arctic Monkeys blasts through the JBL again and Maki is grabbing your phone and saying, “Absolutely not. Nope. We are done with that.”

You look up at her helplessly. “Do I wanna know?” you choke out, half-laughing. “Because if I’m taking this out of proportion, if he doesn’t feel this way and I’m just another girl he kissed—”

“You’re not,” she says firmly. “Are you kidding me? Skip. That boy kisses the ground you walk on.” She shakes her head, some mix of fondness of exasperation flashing across her face. “You already know. The question isn’t if he likes you, or if you like him. It’s whether you’re gonna let it play out or shut it down before it has a chance to.”

Your door slams open, and Nobara strolls in and puts her hands on her hips. She glares at Maki and then at you.

“Please tell me I’m wrong,” she says, and you know you’re in for it, “but I believe you both had significant relationship developments this weekend and didn’t immediately call me? What the fuck? Spill.”

Abruptly, you feel like the worst friend in the world. Not necessarily because you haven’t filled Nobara in—she hasn’t been home—but because Maki is flushing pink, and you left her alone with Yuta on purpose, and it’s Monday, and you haven’t even asked what happened.

You look at Nobara. “Close the door.”

She does, but she doesn’t sit down, choosing instead to pace the room as she speaks. “Exhibit A: the plants have name tags and the handwriting is not Yuta’s. Exhibit B: I just came from down the street and Ino is acting weird as fuck.”

You sit straight up, suddenly on high alert. “Weird how? Did he say anything?”

“No. Like, the entire time. That’s the weird as fuck part.”

You turn to Maki, trying to read her. “Okay, what happened with Yuta? Was it when I left? Because if I wasn’t obvious enough—“

“You were very obvious, thank you,” Maki says, her blush deepening. “Uh, we made dinner. As you know.”

“It was good.”

Maki is pointedly looking everywhere but at you and Nobara, gaze darting from the ceiling to the bedspread to the door, as if she might escape the conversation. You hadn’t even noticed the plant name tags. That’s maybe the most sappy gesture that’s ever come from Maki Zenin.

“Mm. Yeah. Uh,” she says, eloquently. “We might have kissed. We might be… together.”

“Maki!” you and Nobara both scream, which results in Toge nearly breaking down your bedroom door five seconds later.

“What?” he demands. He clocks Maki’s bright red face and grins widely. “Aha! Yes. Good.”

“Wh—”

“Yuta won’t look me in the eyes, so I figured. You wanted to tell us all at once?”

Maki nods sheepishly.

“Too late!” Toge says cheerfully. “And he’s not home. So we can take this quality girls’ time to—”

“You are a man.”

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me,” Toge tells Nobara, hand over his heart.

She swats at him in response and flops onto your floor, and Toge drops down beside her, you and Maki leaning over the edge of your bed to see them both.

"I ate your love pasta," you tell Maki, and she groans.

"This is why I don't tell you people things."

After the appropriate appoint of freaking out about Maki and Yuta (of course I knew, I always know, Nobara says), they make you go through the whole of Saturday night in detail.

You leave out the part about Takuma’s dad. That doesn’t feel like your story to tell.

When you get to I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, Nobara blinks at you, and the innocent expression on her face means whatever she’s about to say is anything but. “So he told you you’re not like other girls?”

“Oh my god,” you groan, dragging your hands down your face.

“Oh, shit, Skipper!” Toge nearly shouts from the floor. “We have to go, like, two minutes ago.”

“Shit!” You scramble off the bed, shoving your laptop into your bag and weaving around Nobara, who has made no move to get off the floor. You and Toge have your usual Monday night class time to do field reporting, and you’re meeting up with Geto and Utahime.

The front door clicks open and closed, and you grin at Maki, who goes red. Yuta’s home. God, you wish you could stay for this.

“Hi, Yuta! Bye, Yuta!” you call on the way out the door, patting him on the head, and Toge follows suit with a much more aggressive motion that messes up Yuta’s hair.

“Oh, hi! Um. Bye?” Yuta’s startled laugh follows you out the door, and then you’re on your way.

You’re always on your way back to The Fix, eventually.

—

Utahime, notably a happier person in general when Gojo’s not around, lets Toge into the back to get some photos of the storeroom. That leaves you alone with Geto, back on the same stool as last time, phone on the counter as you watch him work, talking as he goes.

“Finished inventory,” he says, typing something rapidly on his laptop, “and now it’s budgeting. And yeah, that’s about what it looks like on the day to day. What else did you want to know?”

Geto is remarkably easy to talk to. He’s soft-spoken and articulate, a good listener, and you find yourself forgetting it’s an interview after a while, lost in conversation. You learn that he studied business in school, so opening an establishment like this wasn’t much of a stretch. He handles the finances and hiring, and he’s the one working with Panda on the Battle of the Bands. Gojo and Utahime bartend, Nanami is security, and Shoko handles everything else. It’s a small team, he says, but they work.

“I wanted to be able to be home for the girls when they were growing up, and this wound up being a great way to do that, schedule-wise,” he tells you. “And now they’re here, which is great. I wouldn’t say I ever saw myself opening a bar, back in college, but now that I’m here and Shoko and I have been running the place for a while, I’m not sure where else I ever could’ve ended up, y’know?”

You nod, head propped in your hand with your elbow on the counter. “So is this the dream? The endgame?” you ask. “Think you’ll stay a while?”

“Well,” he says, closing the laptop, “I think it comes down to doing something because you love it, not because other people love that you do it. Though right now, both of those things are true, which is fortunate for me." He leans on the bar counter, head tilted as he considers his words.

"If the work makes you happy, if the people there make you feel the same way, I think that’s worth hanging on to," he says. "If I ever stop loving the work, I suppose I’ll move on. I don’t see that happening, really, but if it does, I’ll roll with it. Whatever comes after.”

“That makes sense.” You sigh, leaning back in your chair. “Man, I wish the career thing was that clear-cut now. I know I have time, but it’s weird to think about.”

“Would you ever go further than this with the band, you think?” he asks, seeming genuinely curious. “Or is the journalism thing pretty much what your heart’s set on?”

You’ve thought about it. Drumming makes you feel alive like very few other things do, but you love writing, reporting, meeting people and telling their stories. You want to go for editor-in-chief next year when Tsumiki graduates, but the reality is that you won’t have so much time for the band if you get the job. And you love your band.

Not that it’ll be the same, anyway, without Maki and Yuta. That’s something you don’t love to think about.

“I don’t know,” you confess, sheepishly realizing you’re still recording, that you’re supposed to be the one asking the questions. “I don’t think… that the band is ever necessarily going to be a professional thing. Maki and Yuta have all these big career plans. And it’s like, how much do I invest in that now, knowing it’s not… forever? When the journalism thing, the career, might be? I don’t know.”

“You know, I don’t think it matters all that much whether it’s forever,” Geto shrugs. “If it gave you what you needed at the time, wouldn’t it be worth it?”

He glances up at you, taking in the lines of your face, the tapping of your fingers against your other arm. You kind of feel like he sees something you don’t.

“Here’s some unsolicited advice, kid. On the record. Maybe life is short, maybe not. But regardless, your heart is not a finite thing.” His eyes are soft but not sad, serious but with a sort of levity that’s wise and not regretful. You think, idly, that you would find it very hard not to trust him. “If you’ve got something, love it while you have it.”

Something tells you he’s not talking about the band anymore. Or maybe that’s just you, looking for answers where there aren’t any.

“Thanks, Geto,” you say, turning off the recording. “This has been really helpful.”

Your heart is not a finite thing. And you think you’ve made up your mind.

directory | prev.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites @idkidk32 @gojodickbig @stargazing-with-choso @anonymity-222

a/n: what is this? setup for the megumi spinoff i'm writing after this? oo (sorry he was a cockblock it was for the plot, this one AND his, hehe)

[treviso-nights]

two crows, one dagger -- datv rook/lucanis oneshot

rating: T word count: 819 summary: lucanis gifts rook with a dagger, only to later find out the heartfelt meaning behind its name :)

read on AO3

“here,” lucanis says. his full lips crack into a smirk. “for you.” 

rook glances down at the dagger in his fist. it’s elegant—a depthless black, spanning three-quarters of the length of her forearm. when he lifts it in an offering and she takes it, breath leaves her in a rush and she almost stumbles back again from the surprise. 

she gasps, both two-toned eyes flashing wide with disbelief. “is that…?”

lucanis merely shrugs. his smirk blooms into a smile that crinkles the skin at the corner of his eyes, and he waits for her to finish the thought. he waits for the full glory of realization to rip through her like an arrow–the joy, when it does show, becomes a pulse beating inside his chest.

“how did you get this?” rook asks, each cheek dimpled and flushed. “there were only supposed to be ten onyxtail daggers ever made because the dragon slain for its scales was so—”

“small,” lucanis finishes this time. he winks, folding his arms across his chest. “kind of like you, amor. shall we make it a nickname?”

rook only bites the inside of her cheek. “bastard.” she starts toward him, the large fish tank blinking turquoise across her strange gold and silver eyes. she’s only a dagger’s length away before he inclines his head, still smiling, though the curved angles of his jaw clench in warning.

“just name it something nice,” he says. “otherwise i’m going to have to take it back from you when we train.”

and then he’s out the door, shoulder blades stiff and upright. just like a blade.

several days later.

“mierda, you’re lazy today.”

lucanis circles rook like a vulture, eyes appraising as she stalks counter-clockwise in the rivaini cave they use as a training ground—a favorite of theirs, offered by the lords of fortune after spite gave them a show during one of their most prestigious rounds in the fighting arena. the cave, passable beneath a waterfall, provides plenty of privacy for the crows to spar, though its watery, gleaming splendor is not what lucanis allows himself to appraise next.

“my, my,” rook teases, watching as his eyes dip and scrutinize the brightly-dyed “breastplate”—as if it can be called anything other than a glorified brassiere—also gifted by the lords of fortune. “but aren’t you feeling lecherous?”

lucanis, hair damp with sweat and tied back, flashes an uncharacteristic, mischievous grin. 

“forgive me, my little onyxtail. if i seem more libidinous than usual, it must be because you’re giving me the opportunity.” he lunges at rook, testing her defenses with a shortsword before leaping back. 

“make that opportunities. i nearly had you that time.”

rook’s hair, crimson red, is a flame while she fends off another attack, parrying and whirling away. meanwhile, the onyxtail blade seems to suck the light from both the cave and her tresses itself like a contained ocean of night. 

“you shouldn’t jest, old man. shit like that may be bad for your health!”

she swipes low, aiming for his hip, but lucanis sidesteps the strike and quickly—but gently—fists a hand in her long braid. 

“the only thing that may be bad for my health is you wearing that sorry excuse for a top,” he growls, yanking her close.

lucanis then kicks hard and swift, his foot landing against the back of rook’s knee, causing her to stumble. shifting, he next brings his fist down onto her forearm, knocking her off-hand blade to the floor, and grabs her waist with both hands.

“keep loose,” he whispers, grinning again, and they both tumble to the ground, rook landing precariously on top of lucanis in the cave’s gritty sand.

“hey!” rook whines, narrowed eyes peering into the other crows’. 

lucanis expression crumbles into confusion. “what? i won that round, no?”

“no, that’s not what i mean,” she hisses. with a glance, rook motions towards the cave wall, where the onyxtail dagger lay tossed beside it. she meets lucanis’ gaze again.

“you almost made me scrape della!”

for a moment, lucanis says nothing, nor does he notice his fingers absentmindedly tightening on the bare skin of rook’s lower back. “…della?” 

“della. my dagger. i finally named it.”

something akin to wonder flares in lucanis’ face, like the heavens breaking free of a midnight hour. he cocks his head, slowly, peering into rook’s face with astonishment.

“you named the dagger… after me?”

a sigh escapes from rook, and she harrumps, touching a calloused hand to his cheek. “of course i did. who else was i going to name it after?”

“rook…”

she thinks she sees lucanis shake his head, but then he’s rolling them over, pressing her harder into the sand with his body weight. when his mouth finally, finally, crashes into hers, he tastes like morning coffee and flight, and not even the thought of a brand-new blade being scratched can stop rook from crashing right back into him.

[ang3lofdivinity]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ 𝖲𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖳𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗁! ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Relationship(s): Slightly Yandere!Sprout + GN!Toon!Reader

Genre: Fluff, some angst eventually

Format: Short story + headcanons

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, yandere/possessive behavior, otherwise none!

A/N: Sorry for such the long hiatus! School is CRAZY rn. + my life overall :’)). Take this Sprout stuff because I LOVE Dandy’s. Also, do note that the reader is a bit clumsy! Along with the fact this is a bit self indulgent.. (I promise, I’ll make Cosmo x Reader x Sprout stuff soon… trust)

Part 1: current | Part 2: In the works..

Now, this is an interesting circumstance you’ve gotten yourself into!

I wanna guess that you’re a toon that works in the diner along with Sprout, and Cosmo.

Maybe you’re a kinda dessert food item? Like, a Milkshake?

I also wanna say that you’re kinda like a waitress for the diner. Someone who runs out the food, rings in food, assigns people to different tables, etc.

You’re a hard-worker, someone who overachieves in their job. Working extra hours to help Sprout and Cosmo, and so on. You love your job, and you love your best-friends!

You and Cosmo’s friendship came before you and Sprout even knew each other. Sure, you’ve heard him be mention by others, especially Cosmo, but never really met him in person before. Well, up until Cosmo asked if you wanted to work with him and Sprout in the diner, given your experience working within the food industry before and such.

And after your interview and background check: you had officially started working as a waitress for the diner!

Cosmo was your only friend for a while, though you were cordial with Sprout- you just didn’t speak to him as much as you did Cosmo.

Though, that was until you had kitchen duty for the night.

You hummed along to the sound of the song that was playing in your headphones, washing dishes in the back of the kitchen while being oblivious to your surroundings. Placing the wet dishes and silverware on the drying mat in their respective places, you felt pleased with your work today and were in a decently good mood: no rude customers, you didn’t have to clean up most of the diner today… it was all going well!!

Well, that was until afterwards.

You checked over everything, making sure every little thing was in its proper place for the night so you could finally clock out for the night.

See, your job here at the diner is simple: serve as a waitress for the costumers, do any extra work such as doing the dishes after closing hours and sweeping the floors, and then finally clock out for the night. Simple as ever, right?

You enjoy your job. You like living here with the rest of the toons in the neighborhood! Sure, you have those bad days that always get you in a sour mood- but everyone has that problem eventually! It’s not just you. Besides, your friends are always gonna be there to help!

Finishing up your business in the kitchen, you sighed. Today was a busy day, and it had DRAINED you! So now, it was time to go home and relax, eat something, and then pass out for the night. It’s a routine that you enjoy. And on the days that you have off from work are pretty uneventful, but still enjoyable in the long run.

Turning on your heel, you began walking towards the corridor so you could head off and grab your stuff to clock out, before you suddenly stopped.

..why does it feel like you’re forgetting something.

Your brows furrowed, trying to make yourself move forward- but you couldn’t. You physically couldn’t move forward anymore and you have no clue WHY.

Taking a deep breath, you turn to look behind you where you see you’ve left one of the cupboards open! (You swear you closed it, but I guess you just simply forgot to and convinced yourself that you did).

So, you do what you were supposed to do: close it.

But the moment your foot lands when you’re so close to it, though, you feel yourself slipping. Your arms flail wildly, reaching for anything solid to latch onto as the world blurs and spins around you.

With a very futile attempt, you tried to stop your fall by grabbing onto the nearest— ….

…

Something just grabbed you.

Instead of the inevitable crash, you’re caught.

Though, with your eyes screwed shut with fear, you’re too nervous to see what happened. Your breath comes in short gasps as you cling tightly to whatever—whoever—has kept you upright. Clinging onto whatever you can to keep you from getting any more bruises than your clumsy self gets on a normal basis already is better than nothing.

If staying like this means you’re safe, then you’re willing to stay like this for—

“..You good?”

A voice spoke up. It’s.. rather closer than you would’ve thought, it’s almost as if it was right next to you kinda close. This doesn’t sound like someone you know like Cosmo, but it does sound familiar in some way that you can’t put your finger on.

Slowly, your eyes open up.

And what do you see?

..Sprout!

Your best guess is that he probably came into the kitchen while you were walking back, and you hadn’t noticed him until now. Or something banal like that, like in those silly rom-com movies.

To describe Sprout himself… : He’s strawberry that only wears a white scarf with pink stripes wrapped around his neck that also drapes over his back. He has five mint green, simple leaves, three of which rest atop their head while the other two cover his forehead like bangs. He has dark, red blush with three black freckles on each cheek. His limbs are a vivid shade of light red with white gloves covering both hands. You can’t see anything other than that- but you know that he was white and punk striped socks, and a friendship bracelet to match with Cosmo.

Cosmo’s excited look when he showed you his.. it still replays in your mind.

You pop yourself out of your reverie, blinking repeatedly as you focus back on Sprout.

“Oh—yeah—sorry!” You squeaked out, attempting to gather yourself. But you were still too stunned to move, body frozen in place due to the shock. Realizing you weren’t going to get up anytime soon, you sighed, feeling a little defeated.

Sprout didn’t hesitate. “I’ll get you checked out. Here—” he said, scooping you up in his arms before you could protest.

Your face IMMEDIATELY flushed a deep pink as he lifted you bridal style, causing your heart to race even faster.

You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out. All you could do was wrap your arms around his neck, your embarrassment overwhelming her as you held on tight to him.

It wasn’t meant to be such a romantic gesture, simply just trying to help you!

..right?

“Thank you, Sprout..”

That was your first ever meeting!

Cliché, no?

But: you were safe, alive, and your injuries all got healed up (which were a couple burns on your hands from using water which was too warm, and a few cuts here and there).

You found out the reason that he even caught you in the first place is because he had rounded the corridor when you just started walking back over into the kitchen! He had come to check up on you and your work so far because it was late at night.

You thanked Sprout tenfold, offering to do nearly anything as payback for helping you.

Which he then.. forced you to take some baking lessons with him.

He needed more bakers, after all!!

You wondered how this would turn out…

TO BE CONTINUED..

A/N: IM SORYRYRYE. This is such a bad drabble. It’s 1 am as we speak bro.

[julymusings]

Can we also get a desi reader for Tim, Bruce, and aged up damian, please?

Bruce Wayne x South Asian!Reader

ok i did say whatever you ask is yours...but tbh i'm not much of an anyone-other-than-jason-or-dick girlie (i knowww i'm sorry). maybe in the future i'll write for the others but for now here's some bruce content. hope it's okay pleeease don't hate me. also sorry this took literally 50 years i was going thru some stuff💀

batboys x south asian!reader masterlist

I think he’d try really hard to impress you by taking you to those super fancy Michelin star Indian fusion restaurants. They’re good but don’t have quite the same charm as home cooked Indian food, so you bring him back to your place and cook for him.

I’m gonna be real here…all that man really needs is a kiss and one of grandma’s recipes. You feed him a bite straight from the pot and the softness and intimacy of the action alone almost has him in tears, never mind the love and warmth of a home cooked meal

You two come back to your place late one night after an event and you’re craving some comfort food, so you heat up some leftover rice with ghee and jaggery, and he doesn’t seem to have much of a reaction when he tries it, but when you guys have a fight that results in you not seeing each other for a few days, when you finally return to the manor Alfred informs you that was the only thing he ate because it reminds him of you and he missed you😭

I imagine not being very used to how much money he has, so some of the wealthy stuff he does is kinda weird to you. Seriously, this man has been a billionaire his entire life, so you can’t tell me that at least a morsel of Brucie Wayne’s financial out-of-touchness isn’t a tiny bit real

You tell him that in your culture, it’s common to gift gold at really special milestones/occasions. But he gets carried away.

He buys you a bunch of gold jewelry, like for every occasion and it’s like…real, solid, 22k gold. You try to tell him that it’s too much and you don’t need anymore and please stop buying it but he’s just like “why🤨🤨? That gold necklace was only a thousand dollars that’s so cheap” and you make him stand in the corner

I think he’d feel so weird about not wearing shoes at your place but you make him get used to it🤷‍♀️

He’s a genius fr so he picks up your language very easily

You love the super extra Uber-dramatic soap operas and it’s a guilty pleasure of yours to watch them before bed. I can just imagine the two of you huddled together in bed watching them on your laptop. He makes sure all the TVs in the house have all the channels you like. Eventually he can’t sleep without watching them either😭

I think he’d love certain perfume scents that are from South Asia, and he’d buy you fancy those perfume oils

I’m sorry but…I can NOT see this man wearing a kurta. Like I just don’t think he’d do it.

Lighting incense in the batcave. That’s all

incorporating this ask bc it's relevant:

One day you’re making chai, and you ask him to bring the pot from the stove to the counter for you. That thing^ is lying next to the stove, but he doesn't know what that is. And since he can withstand intense levels of pain without flinching he just. Picks up the boiling pot with his bare hands and brings it to you.

"Why didn't you use the clamp?!" "How was I supposed to know what that thing was!!" You show him how to use it but he's kinda petty ("Why can't you just use a normal pot with a normal handle?! Why are you making more work for yourself?") so he refuses to use it and just keeps handling the pot with his bare hands.

But one day you're deep in conversation while making chai. The pot is boiling and he handles it anyway, but you're distracted and you forget that he can do that. You assume it's not hot so you touch it and burn yourself and he feels sooo bad. He's kissing all over your hands and pampering you for the whole day. He finally gives in and just starts using the stupid clamp.

I hc Bruce as being a consistent meditator. He probably spent a lot of time learning about it while training across the world and it helps him feel grounded and calm. He tries to get his kids to do it too, but they don't all like it as much as him. So if you meditate with him every now and then he really appreciates that.

You try to get him into yoga along with it and he's like...scarily good at it. He's not super flexible like Dick, so he chooses to opt out of the super bendy poses, but his core strength is unmatched. He can balance his entire bodyweight on one limb no sweat. He's not wobbling, shaking, or tipping over. He's still as a statue and he can last for hours. (😏)

If you get married, I don’t think it would be a huge event. Like there would probably be some kind of reception that’s more of a formality/business event than anything else where he puts on Brucie Wayne, but for the actual ceremony I think it would just be the family

He'd fly you to your home country to have the ceremony there at some super fancy historical attraction. Even if it's just you and some other close people, he's getting the whole place shut down for the day just for you.

I can’t imagine needing to step into a stepmom role for anyone? Except maybe Cass, Duke, and Damian when his mom isn’t around. The four of you DEFINITELY gang up on Bruce all the time and make fun of his whiteness.

You’d also totally gift them traditional wear

The first time you make dinner for everyone, you make it spicy and everyone loves it, but Bruce is just sitting there SWEATING

He’s so good at keeping a poker face that you wouldn’t have even been able to tell it was too spicy for him if not for the beads of sweat on his face. You give him milk to help soothe the heat but he never lives it down

But you actually are so mothering to the kids, you make them turmeric milk when they’re sick and chai with biscuits when they come home from school🫶and it's so sweet it makes Bruce fall for you all over again

When you move in the whole wearing shoes in the house still bothers you, but you can’t stop everyone else from doing it, so you declare your bedroom a no shoes zone. Bruce can wear shoes anywhere else in the house but NOT your bedroom.

And if you still feel weird about wearing shoes around the manor, he'll buy you a bunch of pairs of home slippers and stash them all over the place

Whenever you stay over he brings you chai in the morning. Once you're married and living with him, he brings it to you in bed every morning. At one point he's like "You know Alfred can bring it for both of us" but you insist it tastes so much better when it's from him, and he can't say no to you.

me personally i like to support women's organizations in south asia, i.e. access to education and better healthcare which means things like menstrual products & obgyn care so i am going to hc that after you share how passionate you are about those, WE partners with an existing charity for those issues, both in south asia and other parts of the world and raises tons of money to donate...take that if you like it (world so bad we writing fanfic about equality now😭)

Since he's a famous billionaire playboy he 100% has an internet presence (likely curated to fit Brucie) and there are tons of edits and memes about him. When the world finds out his partner is south asian, brown people probably go a little insane and there's definitely tons of those memes where they photoshop his face over someone in traditional wear and caption it "Bajju Wagle" or some other name with his initials LMAO

[hughesysgirl28]

Pairings: Luke Hughes x Hischier!oc, brother!Nico Hischier x sister!oc, platonic!Timo Meier x platonic!oc, (other pairings in this story are all platonic unless stated otherwise)

Summary: Luke meets the new media girl aka his Captains little sister

Warnings: none!

-

Chapter 1

-

Celia was nervous well only slightly nervous. She’d have her older brother Nico with her. Why she was slightly nervous? Today was her first day as a media girl for the New Jersey Devils. Her brothers team. She only knew her brother Nico, her best friend Timo, and Jonas.

Currently she was in the car with Nico on the way to the Devils morning practice. Today she’d actually meet the team and get to know the ropes of the job instead of actually doing real stuff yet.

“We’re here.” Nico said to her as he parked in the players parking area. The girl nods unbuckling and getting out the car. She takes deep breaths as she and Nico walk into the arena.

Nico showed her where the media team was then went off to the locker room as she introduced herself.

“Okay so first you’re going to meet the team then we’ll show you the ropes.” Emma, the girl who would show her around today said to her. “Sounds good.” Celia said with a nod.

They then walked out to the rink and to the bench standing in it waiting for the boys to start piling out. The first was Nico who just ruffled her hair making her swat his hand away. A few of the others including Jonas came out and they were all nice making her feel better about everything and now she wasn’t a bit nervous.

She had yet to see Timo who she was hoping to be able to surprise if Nico hadn’t of told him about her new job yet.

Then out through the tunnel came this tall boy, number 43. Celia stared at him as he came out. He didn’t have his helmet on yet so she got to see his perfect curly hair clearly.

“Luke! This is Celia. One of our new media team members.” Emma said waving him over to wear the two girls stood on the bench. The boy froze staring at her when he saw her.

“Hey.” The Swiss girl said almost in awe.

“Hey.” He said seemingly also in awe.

They stood like that for a bit until they heard someone shout “Lia!” It was Timo Meier. The girl snapped out of her trance running over to the entrance of the tunnel past Luke hugging Timo instantly. “Timo!” The girl exclaimed as her best friend hugged her back.

“You didn’t tell me you were here!” Timo exclaimed almost shocked. “Well I’ll be here for a while.” Celia said backing away from the hug.

She had noticed Luke had gone out onto the ice after she had run to hug Timo. “She’s the new media girl Timo.” Emma said with a smile.

After saying that it sure did make Timo’s smile wider. “You mean I’ll be stuck with you everyday?” Timo asked with a teasing tone. “You act like you hate the idea of that.” Celia grins knowing he was only joking with her. “You never know.” Timo chuckled then went out onto the ice for practice.

The rest of the work day was Emma showing her the ropes of everything. After that her, Timo, Nico, and a few others went out for drinks.

[chaithetics]

maybe you could do one around toms bachelor party where stewy has to leave bc his gf is having a panic attack? you could make that super fluffy

An Addams Kind of Love

Pairing: Stewy Hosseini x fem reader (reader has anxiety). Word count: 1.6K Warnings: Anxiety, panic attacks, there are no physical descriptions of reader- it's you bestie! Reader is just called Stewy's girlfriend so you can read her however you like :) Fluff/comfort fic! A/N: Thank you for this request! I'm so sorry how late this is! I hope you all enjoy this Succession Sunday treat, we are so back! This is the first fic for my Sickcember event! You can read more Stewy fics here and more. Reblogs and comments are appreciated! I'd love to hear from you!

It didn’t take much, it never really did and you hated it. Sometimes you were completely fine, you could be having the time of your life with friends and then a thought would enter your head like a dark cloud and ruin it. Or you’d feel anxious critters nestle into your brain as you laid in bed, after you’d finally caught some sleep you’d wake up and the day would start with anxiety haunting you from the get go. 

You’d spent the whole evening at the Rhomboid party with a superficial smile plastered onto your face and a feeling of dread festering in your stomach. The anxiety had made you feel too nauseous to try and distract yourself with any of the perfectly arranged nibbles. But you did have a drink you’d been able to occasionally sip on, your fingers were clutching onto the glass so tightly it was a miracle it hadn’t shattered yet.

The sounds in the underground venue just echoed louder in your head, the conversations, music, even the sound of your shoes was just overwhelming you and your anxiety more. The fabric around your chest and torso was feeling too tight and you couldn’t breath, all you were inhaling was shallow. Your body started to pace away from everyone, desperate to lock yourself in some room and try to calm down before all the perverts claimed them. 

Your eyes were wide and darting around as you tried to quietly excuse yourself, Alex tried to check in with you but you just felt hyper-aware of your dysregulated breathing and knew that your forehead and pits were starting to get damp. Words didn’t feel so easy right now. 

“Panic attack?” He asked, familiar with your anxiety. You nodded and walked off, finding one of the small empty rooms to sit in and try to ground yourself. Alex waited to see which room you went into before getting Stewy. 

Alex walked over to Stewy and whispered in his ear while he talked to Sandy and Kendall, they were too invested in the corporate bomb that had been dropped to notice Stewy’s attention conveniently evaporating. 

“So apparently my girlfriend’s having a panic attack. I’m going to let you two just catch up now. Cool?” He says as he puts a hand on Kendall’s shoulder in an effort to be friendly and reassuring. He looks at Kendall before walking off, well aware of the shit he’s being in this situation to his oldest friend. 

But money talks, even when you’re with your oldest chum, money and winning gets to speak first if you’re like Stewy. Ken would do the same though, Stewy knew he wasn’t anywhere near the point of being self aware to clock it though, he was still wrapped up in despair like the damaging blanket it was. 

You were also a bigger priority, Stewy would still think that way, even if your anxiety didn’t give him a convenient exit to uncomfortable conversations, he adored you and just being in your presence made him fully understand what Gomez Addams was high on. 

Stewy walks off through the maze of people and conversations ranging from pleasure to business as you sit in a room with your fingers digging into your legs, if only they were a little longer you’re sure they’d draw blood, struggling to breathe. 

He steps into the dark room softly opening and closing the door, he thinks it feels too cold for a party as sleazily vibrant as the one on the other side of the door. But he recognises that the slightly cooler temperature is for the best. Stewy steps closer to you, his big brown doe eyes taking in your huddled up, anxious form and the way that he can see tears glistening on your perfect cheeks as you look up at him. 

“Hey… Hey, baby… What’s going on, huh?” He asks as he steps closer and puts a hand out to gently rub your shoulder, he touches you in a soft circular pattern as his eyes move across your face analysing you for any tells. Any signs of what’s wrong or what he can do to make it better. 

You felt awful. It had started with feeling like your thoughts were getting louder, too loud and that there were too many of them fighting and bouncing around your head and then the lights and music felt like too much. Everything was too fucking loud and too much. Before you knew it, you couldn’t breathe, you kept trying to inhale but your body was refusing to suck in the air and no matter how many deep breaths you tried it felt like the oxygen was stuck, that it couldn’t properly reach your lungs. And you definitely couldn’t feel it in your stomach like one of those guided meditations would tell you to do right now.

You try to suppress a cry and speak but it comes out as a choked sob and you just wave your hand and then start rubbing your eye and you blink your eyes shut tightly. You can’t describe it. You don’t know where to start. Stewy quickly sits down and wraps his arms around you, gently pulling you closer to him with your back to his chest. 

He keeps his arms around you just like the security blanket that he’s become and lifts a hand slightly up, encouraging you to hold it. You look at his golden hands, they’re warm but not clammy like yours are right now. 

Your eyes follow each of the small lines you can on his palm, visually tracing them as you run your fingers over his hand before holding it and squeezing it. He doesn’t complain, he never would in a moment like this. And his complaints were always arrogant, never over things like this. 

“I’m not judging… You’re safe here.” He whispers slowly as he continues to rub your arm. “It’s going to pass soon, I promise.” 

He’s so tender as you feel him against you, your breathing is still shallow and too quick but you try to focus on the feeling of his warm hand against yours, how it’s soft and tender. It’s soothing. 

“Just breathe and we’ll sit through this, I’m here.” Stewy speaks softly and you tilt your head, closing your eyes as you feel him rubbing your arms and every muscle he can reach with his free hand while holding you. You can feel him press his lips against your neck and the back of your head, they’re gentle and light. 

And slowly, very slowly it starts to become a bit easier. 

You keep your eyes closed and focus on the soft feeling of the pads of his fingers rubbing a comforting circle on your arm and the anxiety slowly starts to ebb out. Like he said, it eventually passes and your breathing becomes a bit more stable and doesn’t feel so difficult. 

The tight feeling in your chest stops and you take a shaky but deep breath and tilt your head. You blink back and move a hand to rub your eyes gently. 

“Feeling a bit better, babe?” He asks softly, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“Y-yeah.” You reply and nod. 

You lean back into him. 

You lean back into Stewy and take an easier deep breath and relax into his touch, he’s a comfortable constant. He wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss to the top of your head as you stay cuddled into him and in his lap. He loves holding you and wrapping his arms around you, he’d spend his life always with at least one hand on you if he could. He’ll have to think about the logistics for that now, he can do that later though. Now he’s just enjoying you. 

After a moment Stewy starts to  nibble on your ear, you take in a quivering breath and tilt your head away before letting out a shaky laugh. Stewy lets out a small chuckle and rubs your hip, his smile growing at that sound and how your body shakes with a small laugh and not a tremor of worry. 

He goes to nibble your earlobe again and you laugh more. “You’re a weirdo.” You whisper and rub your eyes with your arm, your forearm picks up the teary residue from your cheeks. 

“And you’re my anxious weirdo. A hot one though.” He bites your ear again and wraps his arms around you more. He buries his head into the side of your neck. “Like a really hot one.” 

You sigh and close your eyes, you can feel his warm breath against your skin and it’s what you try to focus on in the moment. 

“So, you feel like leaving now? We can go before a Roy comes and tries to bite my fucking head off.” Stewy says before pressing a couple more kisses to your neck, you chuckle and nod. Spending the night out of there sounds pretty great and you can cuddle Stewy with a weighted blanket at home. 

“Yeah, that’s- that sounds good.” You nod. Stewy smiles and affectionately but playfully gives you kisses from your neck to along your shoulder. He continues with his kisses before he finally pulls himself away from you long enough for you both to get up and leave so he can spend the rest of the night showering you in affection and care.

Tags: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @thegildedblogger @mittos @biblichorr @angelicasavages

@foreverasleep717 @coocoolahh @jolie989 @piquedpizza @nadja-antipaxos

@inknopewetrust @superficialfeelings @thrilllifying @punisherinthealps

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: yandere, captive reader, Stockholm syndrome

♡ FEM reader

“I’m back,” he calls out softly once opening the door.

You’re already there—must have heard him drive up then padded over—standing there, wordlessly awaiting his kiss. You don’t notice it yourself, though he does, how you get up on your tippy-toes and meet him halfway. You’ve been doing it for a while now. It’s really cute. And so he doesn’t say anything on it—doesn’t want to spook the habit.

“Welcome home,” you say, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you soft and snugly against his chest—smiling at how you nuzzle into it—yet another cute thing you’ve started doing lately.  

“Mh-thank you, sweetheart—feels good,” he coos into your hair, petting it smoothly while you stand there, neither of you pulling away. “What did you do today?”

You sigh and sink further into his embrace, mumbling, “Same as any other day…” almost sulkily. “Just waiting for you.”

He chuckles, “Oh, that’s not true. I saw you watching something—anything fun?”

You hum, hiding your face in his chest, mumbling into it, “Not really… just binging another franchise they decided to ruin...” You shift and look up at him, keeping your chin on his chest while grumbling, “I don’t understand why they’d reboot something just to completely disregard everything it originally stood for—and all the effects just make it look cheap.”

He can’t help but chuckle again, ruffling your hair with a fond smile. “You’re such a nerd.” He could eat you up the way you are right now, plated on a silver platter for him all so willingly. “A cute nerd, though.”

You pout, “Honestly, what’s going on out there? I barely understand anything I’m watching anymore—it’s all alien to me.”

His hug on you tightens, but you don’t flinch like you used to—even as the look in his eyes darkens along with his words. “Yeah, the world’s gone mad. You’re better off in here.”

You smile then—agreeing for once. It’s also a new and adorable habit. And then you unzip his jacket for him, helping it off his shoulders and hanging it up for him—all so naturally. Looking back at him while asking, “And how was your day?”

He smiles while beholding you—to think such a question would ever leave your lips all so domestically—it’s enough to make his chest swell. Then with an exaggerated sigh, he whines, “Absolutely horrible without you,” wrapping you up in another hug, this time from behind, nuzzling his chin into the ticklish skin of your neck—making you giggle. Arms around your front, swaying you back against him. “Every second, I was counting down ‘til when I could come home to you.”

“Is that right?” You grin at his gesture—twisting around so that you could look at him straight. Slouched as he stood, all but draping you with his taller form—eyes leveled with yours, half-mast and adoringly admiring you like his most precious thing—his sweet loving girlfriend.

You cup his face in both hands, thinking the same of him—your sweet loving boyfriend. You’re about to kiss him, but then, struck by the thought, there’s a sudden freight in your chest that follows, and you jolt back as if he’d burned you.

He stills, warm expression twisting to one of concern. “Hey—” Stepping after you with his hands laid on your forearms, giving you a small squeeze. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” You don’t know, you think. Something’s off. Something’s not right—about his touch, about your heart, about all of it. “I’m just…” 

You think about it, eyes skittering over his face—did you always look at his face? Since when did he become so familiar? Since when did you walk around wanting to see it?

“I just…” the words feel all strange in your mouth, but there’s no denying there’s truth in them. “I missed you.”

His features blank at that, blinking at you. “Oh…” Then he softens—smiles with a chuckle, “Well, I’m home now, so…” His head slants, looking at you in askance as he gently brings a hand up to thumb your chin. “What’s with this pouty face?”

You bite your lip. There’s so much noise in your chest—so many conflicting feelings. You’ve begun missing him when he’s gone—when he leaves you. You’ve started wishing for his return, spending your day in wait. Since when did you start doing that?

It’s not right.

“I’m slipping,” your voice is shaken and weak, eyes welling up with thick water enough to have him look blurry—you shake your head and squeeze them shut—making the tears fall quickly. “I’m not supposed to miss you—” you cry. “That’s not right. I’m not—you’re not—”

Not your boyfriend.

“Hey, hey, sweetie. It’s okay,” he cuts your sob off with two warm hands placing themselves on your wettened cheeks, holding you tenderly. You layer yours on top of his, feeling it’s the only thing keeping you from spiraling into oblivion. 

“It’s okay, sweetie,” he coos, smearing out your teardrops, making them dry. “It was gonna happen sooner or later, right?”

Your eyes peel and look at him—through the veil. His face is a comfort—though you feel strange seeing it as such, when you know, even though most of you has decided to forget, that he’s a psychotic stalker who’s kidnapped you and held you captive for what must be closing in on a year already.

“Don’t feel bad—it’s only natural,” he assures, pulling you into his chest again—both arms around you snugly with his chin on top of your head, gently rocking you from side to side. “Everything’s fine. So you’re losing your mind a little—we’ll just find something else for you to think about. Right? Is there anything you want? Anything I can get you? More clothes? Sweets? Something fun? Maybe you can take up another hobby?”

He loosens his hold to look down at you—his face warm with devout for you, with a wordless vow saying he’ll do everything, give you anything in return for your happiness.  

You love him, you realize then with a shudder.

You’re in love with your crazy captor—your batshit lovesick oversweet captor who shares your bed and treats you like a spoiled pet. And it’s so fucked up—so, so very fucked up, so very fucking fucked up. But it’s true—you’re in love with him. And you have been for a while.

“What do you say?” he asks in hope.

Yet, you can’t say it out loud. No, not yet—it still feels all so wrong. But, at the same time, you don’t think there’s a need for you to put it into words for him. He’s always known you better than you have yourself, after all. And that wholesome smile on his face says it all—he already knows.

“No… I just,” you start, staring into his eyes—those full-loving eyes that look at you as if you’re the only thing of value in the whole entire world. “I just want…” It’s a scary confession—both admitting it to yourself and him. “You.” 

You look down, curling your fingers into his shirt.

“I don’t need anything else.”

It’s the truth and nothing but the truth—albeit a somewhat sad truth. It’s your one wish—your only wish. You just want him—to stay, to hold you, to kiss you. You can’t even think of wanting anything else anymore.

“Oh, well, that’s easy, isn’t it?” he says, stroking your cheeks, fishing for your shy gaze—smiling once hooking it—pretty teary puppy eyes, lost and looking for directions. 

Don’t worry—he’s here to help.

“Where do you want me then, sweetheart?” His lips near your forehead. “Here?” He gives it a chaste kiss, earning your sniffle, then ducks down to your neck. “Or here, maybe?” Giving that a kiss as well, this time with more behind it, sucking the skin with a soft bite. 

“Or maybe…” His voice is low, and it makes your skin buzz with a desire just as dark—shivering with it as his lips ghost yours. “Here?”

You hang in his hold, leaning after it.

But he just smiles, “Tell me, sweetheart—where do you want me?”

Your lip wobbles, brows cinched as your balled fists needily pull him close—yearning for it.

“Everywhere.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Kuro, Oikawa, Miya twins ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist