#i know it sounds bad but usually I try to find an excuse to why I can’t call when this certain person asks me

[imaginaryf1shots]

Soulmate | Max Verstappen Ver.

WC: 4.1K

Max x journalist!reader

Summery: you live in a world where soulmates exist, and until you find yourself, you only see in black and white.

Warnings: none?

Masterlist

Max Masterlist

Lewis Ver. , Oscar Ver. , Charles Ver.

In a world where everyone is born seeing black and white, the promise of seeing colour is on everyone's mind. The key to unlocking the colours is your soulmate. Meeting their eyes will make you be able to see all the hues and shades of the world. Those who see colours describe it so beautifully. People usually discover their soulmates between the age of 18 and 25, some earlier and some later. However, some people start to lose hope when year after year passes and no colour is introduced into their lives.

You have lived your life hoping and believing that one day, a single glance will change your world. But as you've hit your adult years and not a single colour, you've lost hope, all your friends and family see colour already, even your 13 year old cousin. So you just came to terms with seeing life in monochrome. You just focused on your career, building it up and making something of yourself.

You've worked in a few sports before, football, tennis before you moved to motorsport, starting with NASCAR then Formula 2 and here you are now after two months in Formula 2 you've been promoted to Formula 1. The world of formula 1 is very fast-paced, and you find yourself deep in it, watching old races and interviews and races. The sport intrigued you, the races, the adrenaline, the drama.

Due to your easy going nature, and how you can get people comfortable, you've been made to interview the drivers for a new segment for F1TV, a room was giving to you on track and each week you sit down for a long interview with two drivers.

“I just don't understand. Why won't you try it?” You heard your mum's voice through your phone's speaker. Rolling your eyes at her words as you got ready for the day. “Don't roll your eyes at me.”

You sigh and wonder how she always knows when you do that. “Mum, I told you, I don't want to.”

“I just don't get why, I've heard of so many stories of people being happy after they try it.”

“Mum, please, I'm busy with work, I don't have time for any of this.” You exasperated.

“That excuse died a long time ago.” Your mum fought back.

“Mum, I love you, but you just don't get it, so please just leave me be.” 

“I only say this because I care about-”

“You don't understand, and you never well, okay, you found dad when you were 19, you've found him and you never had to go on dates for people who lost or gave up, and yes I kind of lost hope, I'm not getting my hopes up anymore, but it kills me, why do I not have a soulmate, everyone I know already found theirs and I hear about it all the time, I'm lonely, I'm extremely lonely, even when I'm out with friends when we have family gatherings I'm lonely, and I heat about colours and shades and all I see is grey, so don't try to enterfer anymore please, just let me be.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“I'm sorry, love.” Was all she could say in the end. “I didn't realise.”

“I know you didn't.” Your voice sounded defeated. “I have a to go, I'll talk to you later.”

“Okay, honey, talk to you later.”

Your conversation with your mother left you feeling down and unmotivated.

This weekend, you'd be interviewing Alex Albon and Max Verstappen. Alex came first, and you sat down in front of the cameras for the lengthy interview. The set was cozy, and Alex was a blast to interview. You talked about racing to his pets, to golf, to his dreams, and so on. Alex is funny and easy to talk to you, so the interview went smoothly, and he didn't stop talking, and it all just flowed easy between the two of you. Even with your bad mood, you still enjoyed your time, and your mood got better.

After Alex left with a quick hug, you were told that Verstappen would be coming a bit later than anticipated, so you'd have 45 minutes between the interviews. That time, you and the crew took a break and ate some food before you had to be ready once more for the reigning world champion. And right before he came in, one of the crew rushed in and went straight to you and the producer.

"Max is apparently in a very bad mood. The media panel today was a disaster." He told the two of you, your eyes met the producers in worry. You've seen interviews of angry Max, and you weren't looking forward to interviewing him, not after the morning you had.

"I thought we only had drivers without the panel for the week?" You asked, confused.

"I did, too. There must've been a mix-up either with us or his schedule." The producer told you. "What was he asked?"

"Uh, they asked about him not finding his soulmate, and if it's maybe a sign that he's meant to be alone." You and the producer gasped at the rude question, of course his mood was soured, you don't ask or speak about people who haven't found their soulmates like that, you knew the pain of not finding your other half very well, and it's always painful to constantly asked about if you found them. "They even asked if he thinks his mood will get better once he does and if he'll calm down."

"Wow, that's just, that's so rude." The producer said and looked at you. Everyone knows you haven't found yours as well. The producer gave you a smile and patted your shoulder. "Don't worry and just stay calm. Our questions aren't intrusive or uncatting. We don't have anything about his love life.”

“You're right.” You nod to yourself in encouragement.

Max walks in with his entourage, his press officer walks over to you and the producer, she tells you to just jump into the interview seeing as he ran late to come here and he has other things he needs to do after.

You glance at the driver as he gets mic-ed up. Max's presence was imposing, his haw was set, and his eyes were hard. You could feel his mood even from a distance. The producer hurried you along.

You sat on the comfortable sofa, you try out the sofas each week to make sure it's comfortable for the drivers, as the sport light was on you. You introduced yourself with a fake smile, glancing at Max for a second before looking at your notes.

"Good afternoon, Max." You started calming your racing heart by saying to yourself that this is just an interview. "Thank you for taking the time to speak with us today. How are you feeling about this weekend's race?"

"It's going to be a challenging race, but I'm confident." Max's expression remained guarded, but he responded as calmly as he could. "The team has done a great job, as we're well-prepared."

"That's always good to hear." You replied, keeping your tone light. Maybe this won't be too bad. "This track has a lot of history. Do you have any special memories or moments here that stand out to you?"

"Definitely, this was one of the first tracks I raced in in Formula 1." Max's gaze softened, and yet again, your eyes just looked all over his face not meeting his eyes, even in monochrome you couldn't deny how good looking he is, you wondered what colour his hair is, it looks soft.

"It's a very demanding track, but once you get it right, it's very rewarding."

"That's wonderful." You nodded, feeling the tension ease just a bit. "Now, moving away from racing for a moment, how do you usually unwind during the season? Especially with such a long season, do you have any hobbies or activities that help you relax?"

As you asked the question, you looked up, meeting Max's eyes for the first time. In that split second, and as you blinked, everything changed. The world around you, previously in grayscale blur, just erupted into vibrant, breathtaking colour. Starting from Max's eyes, their shades the first thing you've seen, and moving to the color of his clothes, the sofa and everything around you, everything has come to life in a way you've never experienced before. Max's eyes warm and held an expression mirroring your own.

Max blinked, and in an instant, his stern an slightly annoyed façade/mood broke, a genuine smile that he never had before broke across his face.

"I-uh." He cleared his throat to try and regain some of his composure after the revelation he just had, both your eyes meeting and not straying from each other. "I enjoy spending time with my family and friends." He said, his voice softer, almost as if he was speaking to you alone. "I also spend a lot of time sim racing and gaming with my friends, a bit of FIFA here and there."

Like Max, you could hardly believe what had happened, fighting to maintain your composure, you continue a smile tugging at your lips. "That sounds like a lot of fun. Do you ever play FIFA with other drivers? I imagine it would get pretty competitive."

"Yes, we do, sometimes." Max chuckled, the tension between the two of you completely dissolved to the amazement of everyone behind the cameras. "It's always a good time, and it definitely gets competitive. We take it seriously, even though it's just for fun."

The crew keeps exchanging confused glances unaware of the profound shift that had occurred. You force yourself to focus on the next question, the vibrant colours making everything around you feel surreal.

“Speaking of competition, if you weren’t a Formula 1 driver, what other career path do you think you might have taken?” You asked, genuinely curious.

Max leaned back, considering the question. “I’ve always been passionate about sports, so maybe something related to that, like engineering or coaching. I enjoy working closely with a team and seeing how everything comes together.”

“That’s really interesting.” You said, nodding. “It shows how much you value teamwork and the technical aspects of the sport.”

“What about you?” Max asks, and you look at him confused. “If you weren't a journalist, what would you want to be?”

“Oh, since I choose sports and have been surrounded by it for years, I think I'd be a sportswoman.” You tell him with a smile. “You're lucky, I'm too old to get into karting.”

“Guess, if you were into karting, we would've met years ago.” You knew what he meant. You could've met your soulmate years ago if you'd been in karting. 

“I guess so.” You try not to think about the what ifs as you ask the last question. “One last question that we ask to every driver, what advice would you give to young aspiring drivers who look up to you?”

Max’s eyes met yours again, a spark of connection undeniable between you. “I’d tell them to stay focused and never give up. It’s a tough journey, but if you’re passionate and willing to work hard, you can achieve your dreams. It’s important to stay dedicated, even when things get tough.”

“Great advice, Max. Thank you so much for your time. It’s been a pleasure talking with you.” You concluded, barely able to contain the smile spreading across your face.

Max smiled back, the warmth in his eyes unmistakable. “Thank you. It’s been great speaking with you, too.”

The interview wrapped up, but as the revelation between the two lf you lingered you didn't want to leave, after so many years of guessing who your soulmate be and almost giving up entirely you didn't want to be apart from even for a second.

Max may seem tough to people, strong and determined, but he's spent nights dreaming of when he'd finally meet you. His thoughts lately have been of self doubt, maybe everyone is right, and the reason he hadn't met you yet is that he doesn't deserve you. He's too hot-headed, too aggressive. But here you are, proving him and everyone who doubted him wrong.

The crew, oblivious to the transformation, began packing up the equipment, their chatter and movements a blur in your colourful new world.

Max turned to you, his demeanour noticeably lighter, a subtle smile still playing on his lips. 

“I don’t have my phone with me.” Max managed to find his voice, his voice softer now, almost tentative. “Could I borrow yours for a moment?”

“Of course.” You replied, your voice trembling slightly as you handed him your phone.

He took it with a nod of thanks and quickly entered his number, calling his own phone to ensure that he'll be able to contact you after the day is over. When he handed your phone back, your fingers brushed, and an electric jolt shot through you, confirming the profound connection. As if the colours weren't enough, the electric feeling that went through you is a confirmation. Max left the room with a lingering look at you.

The crew, sensing something unusual but unable to pinpoint it, exchanged puzzled glances. One of your colleagues approached, and his brow furrowed in confusion. 

“What just happened?” He asked, his tone laced with curiosity. “Did you two know each other before?”

You struggled to keep your emotions in check, a smile fighting to break free. “No, we just...connected.” You said, unable to find the right words to describe the whirlwind of emotions and the explosion of colour that had transformed your world.

Max left the room and started to look around, as if he's seeing everything for the first time and in a sense he was. He took in the colours that have been described to him many times before, he looked to the sky and saw the blue everyone described, he saw a few trees and saw the green leaves and the brown trunk. Everything looked so different now.

The rest of the day you both got questions and buzzed looks from those working with you, both your moods are good and it's not wavering, it's not changing. The realisation of what had happened, of finding your soulmate in such an unexpected place, left you reeling.

Later, as the paddock began to empty and the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the vibrant landscape, as you stood and watched your first colourful sunset, you received a message from Max.

Meet me after you finish work. We need to talk.

Time could couldn’t go by fast enough, you kept looking at your phone waiting for Max to tell you where you'd meet  you had finished your work for the day, but work for F1 drivers take kuchen longer than yours. Every moment stretched into eternity as you waited for it to end. As you looked at the sun from the top of the FIA hospitality, you wished Max was with you enjoying your first sunset together. You dont know Max, you know if Max, but you've never met before today, but you feel like you do. It feels like everything is alright, like the world is finally tilted the right way, gravity is finally working.

come to redbull motorhome.

You made the jounry from the FIA building to redbull, right as you reached through building Max came out and gestured for you to come in, trying not to be seen by fans or cameras. He made you walk in front of him, his hand on your back as he guided you. You feel the heat, and even the electricity was evident through the layers of your clothes, you relaxed instantly to his toutch, leaning back into it. Max sighed. It felt like he could toutch you skin to skin, the feeling vibrated through him filling him up.

Max led you to his room. From the tours you've seen other teams do, Max's room looked the best. You both sat on the sofa facing each other. Your eyes were just taking the other in, Max's hair was ruffled, as if he ran his hand through it a lot. You took in his eyes, which you now know are blue, his nose the shape of his jaw, yhe frekle on his lips, you're trying to memorise him. Tattoo him into your mind.

Max took your hand in his, and you wonder if the feeling of electricity will remain forever or will it fade with time. You both close your eyes for a moment. 

“Did you have a good day?” You asked softly after you opened your eyes.

“It didn't start ikay, but there's something that made my day, my week, my life.” Max replied, his voice gentle. You couldn't fight the smile that took over your face. There was a moment of silence, each of you searching for the right words to express the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling.

“I can’t believe what happened earlier.” You began, your voice filled with wonder and disbelief. “I never thought... I had almost given up on finding my soulmate.”

Max nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Me too. I’ve been so focused on racing, I started to think that maybe it wasn’t going to happen for me. But then I saw you, and everything changed.”

You leaned closer, it wasn't a conscious decision, but you were feeling the warmth of his presence. “I’ve been living in black and white for so long, I forgot what it felt like to hope. And now, it’s like... like everything has come alive.”

Max squeezed your hand, sending a familiar electric thrill through you, a reminder of the bond you had discovered. “I know exactly what you mean. I’ve been so caught up in my career, I stopped looking for anything else. But today, meeting you... it’s like the world has finally made sense.” You smiled, your heart swelling with a mixture of relief and joy. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? How we can go from feeling like we’re missing something, to finding everything in a single moment.”

“I’m so glad we found each other. It’s like a dream come true, one I never thought I’d get to experience.” Max’s gaze softened, his eyes reflecting the same vibrant colors that now filled your world.

You squeezed his hand, feeling the connection deepening with each passing second. “I’m happy too. I was beginning to think that maybe it wasn’t meant for me, that maybe I’d never see the world in colour. But now, being here with you... it feels like everything was leading up to this.”

Max’s smile widened, and he leaned closer, his hand still holding yours. “I know we’ve just met, but I feel like I’ve known you forever. It’s like... like we were always meant to find each other, no matter what.”

You nodded, tears of happiness welling up in your eyes. “I feel the same way. It’s like all the waiting. All the wondering was worth it because it brought me to you.”

He gently wiped away a tear that had escaped down your cheek, his touch tender and reassuring. “We have a lot to look forward to.” he said softly. “And I can’t wait to experience everything in colour, either you.” 

You leaned into his touch, your heart filled with a warmth you had never known before. “Me too, Max. I’m so grateful we found each other, even if it took a bit longer than we expected. It was worth the wait.”

He pulled you into a gentle embrace, the world around you fading into a blur of colour and emotion. For the first time in your life, you felt complete, the missing piece of your heart finally found.

As you sat there in his room, the noise from outside faddws away and a that mattered was that you found each other.

Later that week on Sunday, you find yourself in the media pen, Max wasn't on the podium after contact with another driver on track, Max wasn't amused, he hated losing, he was clearly not satisfied. The frustration was evident in his clenched jaw and the tense set of his shoulders as he made his way through the sea of microphones and cameras, his responses curt and tinged with irritation. The incident with another driver had cost him the win, and you could already sense the frustration simmering in the air.

Finally, it was your turn. As he approached, you could see the tension in his posture, the anger still simmering just below the surface. You offered a gentle smile, hoping to soften his mood.

“Hi, Max. Tough race today.” You began, keeping your voice calm and understanding. “Can you walk us through what happened out there?”

Max sighed, his expression strained but slightly less harsh as he met your gaze. “Yeah, it wasn’t great. We were doing well, but then there was contact with another car, and that threw everything off. It’s frustrating because we had a good chance of winning.”

You nodded, listening intently. “I can understand how disappointing that must be. Can you tell us more about the incident? What exactly happened?”

He glanced around, his irritation still evident but less intense than before. “He was going for an overtake, and I thought I had enough room, but we ended up colliding. It cost us a lot of time and positions. It’s just... frustrating.”

Your heart went out to him. You wanted to offer some comfort, to show him that you understood his frustration. Max was leaning his hands on the barrier so you subtly reached out and touched his hand, a gentle, reassuring gesture. He glanced down, surprised, and when he looked back up at you, his eyes had softened.

“I’m really sorry to hear that, Max.” You said, your voice filled with genuine concern. “It must be tough to end the race this way after all the hard work you and the team put in.”

He took a deep breath, his expression relaxing a bit more. “Yeah, it’s not the result we wanted, but that’s racing. We’ll learn from this and come back stronger. Thanks for understanding.”

You offered a supportive smile, your hand still resting lightly on his. “I’m sure you will. You’ve always shown great resilience. What’s the plan moving forward from here?”

Max’s mood seemed to lighten further, the tension visibly easing from his shoulders. “We’ll go back, analyze what happened, and make sure we’re better prepared for the next race. It’s important to keep looking forward.”

“Absolutely.” You agreed, your voice encouraging. “One setback doesn’t define you or the team. You’ve got a lot of races ahead, and I’m sure we’ll see you back on the top soon.”

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “Thanks. It means a lot to hear that.”

As the interview wrapped up, Max’s demeanor was noticeably calmer. The frustration from earlier had dulled, replaced by a quiet determination. He glanced at you, a hint of gratitude in his expression.

“Thanks for the interview.” He said, his voice softer once the mic was out of his face. “And for... you know, understanding.”

You smiled back, your heart lifting. “Anytime, Max. I’m sure the next race will be better.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned to leave. Max will always be grateful for you. He's known you for a couple days, and you both spent all of your free time together and texting whenever you could. He felt like you understood the highs and lows of racing making him bind with you more. You understood sport and how everything can change in a second.

For now, the disappointment of the day was behind him, and the promise of future victories lay ahead. And in that brief, quiet moment, you had been able to offer a bit of comfort, a reminder that even in the toughest times, there’s always a reason to look forward.

Max accidently said he sees colour in one of the interviews a few months later, and so the hunt for his soulmate has begun. Thankfully, since you work in F1, you weren't suspected, and so you were able to keep your privacy. For a while.

During winter break, photos of you were released to the public, and the fans have gone wild. Every single interaction you've had was cut and edited. And the moment your eyes met went viral all over social media, in the F1 sphere and outside of it.

For you and Max, you're both just glad you finally found your other half. That you don't have to go through this world alone.

Vote for the next one

Maintaglist

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03

[enhard]

lee heeseung — “bullseye”

pairing: loser roommate!l.hs x fem!reader

cw: smut, loser hee i can’t stress this enough, lowk a pervert and dirty minded, very very down bad but jealous af, lots of masturbating, usage of toys, stealing your underwear, mentions of nudes, he’s a virgin, cute breeding kink for my boy (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

hee is the biggest loser in enhypen. try to change my mind.

@hoseokteardrop you gave me a brain itch (。ˇ ⊖ˇ）♡

not proofread ! (MDNI)

you always knew your college roommate was a loser, he played games all day and night in his dorm, never attended parties or outings. you liked him as a friend though. he’s sweet.

if only you had known that he would think about you all the time, whenever you came back home from a college party with a dress shorter than usual, he couldn’t help but quickly excuse himself to the bathroom just to fist his cock thinking about you.

he can’t stand it. he can’t accept seeing you in clothes so revealing going to parties where other men are there. why would you need attention from other men from campus? isn’t he enough?

he likes you. a bit too much. he’s horrible at flirting though. he has no experience in relationships or intimacy it’s pathetic.

“fuck, i’m cumming” is all that echoes through his room late at night, hoping to not wake you up.

he’s a virgin, hoping that you would be his first, but at the same time he’s terrified that he will do something wrong and you’ll hate him forever.

he would offer to do the laundry, just to look at your underwear, imagining you in it. how the panty straps would hug your hips with your skin glowing so bright.

he would steal some panties from you just to fuck them when he was feeling needy. you haven’t noticed they were missing to this day.

when you weren’t home, he would quickly go to his desk, pressing away at the pc to find his favourite videos. he would close his eyes imagining that those sweet sounds were all yours.

he wishes he would get at least one nude pic from you, but he never got it, obviously. that was one of the things he dreamed of at night, simultaneously something that kept him up at night. he needed your body. he needed you.

he wanted to breed you. he wanted to fuck his cum into you. he wanted to paint your pussy with it instead of a tissue or his abdomen. he wanted to fill you up so good, every time you talked he was fantasising about filling up your pretty mouth with his cum. he couldn’t help it.

you wondered why so many packages came through the door and why he was so strict about you not touching them. you respected his wishes, but now you wished you had opened them.

he would buy so many toys and gadgets for him to try out, he could open up an entire account for posting not-so-innocent videos of him relieving himself with them.

from different pillows, to rubber toys, fleshlights anything you could think of. he had it.

he knew he was dirty but not himself, oh he was clean compared to other college guys. his room was a mess though. but he never ever let you see all of those toys, he kept them nice and locked away.

one day you were at the dorm, feeling it in your room. you just got that urge. you felt needy.

you didn’t have a boyfriend or friends with benefits to call, so you decided to do it solo.

you had some hot but horrible boyfriends in the past, none of which you wanted to think about right now.. so who would be better than your loser gamer roommate?

“i know he’s crazy, but he’s also crazy hot.” you thought. he might be a nerd but he’s also so attractive it’s perfect.

you travel your hand down, rubbing yourself through your panties. it doesn’t take long before you stop to take your panties off and insert your fingers inside. you close your eyes, imagining that your roommate is fucking you right now.

you start moaning out his name, those noises sneaking through the halls. you thought he wasn’t home, but as he was walking across the hall, he could hear your moans.

as he stops by your door, luckily for him it was ajar, he sees you shoving your fingers inside.

he thought he was dreaming, getting so excited over the sight. someone pinch him.

he licked his lips seeing a slight hint of your pussy he wanted to fuck. he wanted to claim it like it was his.

at one point, you stop fingering yourself to take your top off, exposing your tits with a bounce.

he almost moaned on the spot seeing those tits. oh how he wishes he could touch them.

he promised to himself that he’ll suck on them so good it’ll leave you weeping.

he promised that he would fuck you so good it would leave you craving for more and more.

he wanted you to ride him, your tits bouncing up and down with each move. his favourite position.

once you start fingering yourself again and moaning out his name, he leaks precum through his pants, getting a painfully hard dick, oh how he wished for this.

he takes out his cock right out his pants, stroking it and abusing his swollen tip while staring at you.

it felt good. way better than it normally felt. he was doing good at keeping quiet until you let out the hottest moan he’s ever heard, that tipped him off the edge. his moan followed yours and you instantly stopped what you were doing to stare at the door.

with a confused look on your face, but way too horny to scold him, you sighed.

“hee..? come in. please.” you breathe out.

you can see him walking in, with his cock still out. you slightly smile, seeing at how desperate he was for you.

“come here, let me give you what you want.” you say, seeing a cute stupid smile plastered on his face.

he comes up to you just to pull you into a kiss, and to pin you under him. but he clearly didn’t know where to rest his arms so you softly laugh at him. “is this your first time?” you say smiling.

he nods, visibly embarrassed by it. you find him adorable, and the thought that he’s a virgin makes you even more excited. he doesn’t know what he’s doing but you’re there to teach him.

“that’s okay, don’t be embarrassed. i’ll guide you.”

he smiles. he knows he just hit bullseye.

[moonstruckme]

Thanks for being patient with me! This is edited on about four hours of sleep so apologies for any errors <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.6k words

Water sizzles on the stove. You reach over to turn down the heat, your side heating from its proximity to the boiling water, before spinning back around to keep speed-chopping onion. This is a result of poor planning. 

It’s possible that some of your nerves could be reinterpreted as excitement. Giddiness, even. You’re finally—finally—doing something to try and repay all the kindness James shows you. You’ve felt like such a mooch, eating his cooking and stealing his time with his friends, but last week had been too much for you to take. He’d discovered the stomach bug you were weathering, and James had completely devoted the next two days of his life to making sure you were looked after. 

Your fever had gotten so out of hand he’d very nearly followed through on his favorite threat (going into your phone while you’re sleeping and phoning your mum), and though you’d done your best to downplay it at the time there are admittedly gaps in your memory wherein you think you were simply too out of it to know what was going on. It’s not a very comforting thought when you’re harboring a humiliating crush on your roommate; you may well have been just as talkative as James always is, you don’t know. At least he hasn’t said anything. 

He had, thankfully, managed to avoid catching it. You’re not sure how he managed what no one on your shift at work did, but you assume it has something to do with all that kale he eats. Which is why you’re doing your best to make the thank-you meal you’re making him as healthy as might suit his standards. 

You hear his key in the door, and a little frisson goes up your spine. 

“You’re early,” you accuse as he walks in. 

“Since when do you know when my training ends?” James asks. You sound like you’re sniping at one another, but as usual the joviality in his tone is unmissable. 

The sounds of his entrance are familiar, perhaps more ingrained in your mind than they ought to be. Keys jingling as he hangs them on the hook, shoes toed off and left by the mat, heavy footsteps headed for wherever you are in the apartment. 

When he finds you in the kitchen, you both speak at once. 

“What happened to your shoulder?” 

“You know how to cook?” 

“Hurt it at training,” James answers, shrugging with the shoulder that doesn’t have an ice pack held to it. He’s probably too nice for it to occur to him to withhold his answer until you’ve given yours, as had been your first thought. “What are you making?” 

“How did you hurt it?” Worry pries at your tone. Your hands have stilled on the cutting board. 

“We had a scrimmage, and I got shoulder-barged.” He gives you a smile, a shadow of the real thing, but gentler. Reassuring. “It’s not bad.” 

You frown. “I don’t know what that means.” 

“Didn’t expect you to, love.” 

“Why do you need to ice it if it’s not bad?” 

There’s a look in James’ eyes that’s wavering between smugness and softness. You balk at the sight of it. “I need to be a bit careful with it,” he hedges, “but it’ll be good by morning. Now, you’ve distracted me. Do you mean to tell me you’ve known how to cook this entire time?” 

“Yes,” you concede with a laugh. “I’ve always said I cook for myself when you’re not around.” 

“And here you are, doing it right before my eyes.” James leans on the counter with his good arm. He looks immensely entertained. “I’m honored.” 

“This isn’t just for me,” you say, looking down to resume chopping onion as your face warms slightly. “It’s for—” Another remonstrative hiss from the stove, and you whip around, moving the pot off the hot part entirely. You’re a bit relieved for the excuse to face away from him. “It’s for both of us. Also, I just want to provide a disclaimer right now that I never said I was good at cooking, only that I knew how.” 

James’ laugh rumbles behind you, just as you knew it would. He’s too easy. You can practically feel the force of his smile hitting your back, like the sunshine brought inside. 

“Here,” he says, taking a couple of steps toward you, “let me help.” 

“No!” You whirl again, stopping him before he can actually enter the kitchen. “No way. James, I’m trying to do something nice.” 

“And it is very nice,” he says, earnest. “It just seems like you could use a hand.” 

“I’ve got it,” you insist. Your hands are up to ward him off, but you put them at your sides when you realize how close they’re hovering to his chest. “It doesn't count as doing something for you if you do it yourself. Anyway, you’re incapacitated.” 

“I’m…” James looks confused, but then he glances down to his icing shoulder. “Oh, come on. I’m hardly immobilized.” 

“For all intents and purposes, you are.” You do your best to infuse your voice with conviction. You’ve found that’s usually the way with James. If you show any hesitation, he’ll turn on the charm and have you eating out of his hand before you know what’s happened. You herd him away from the kitchen. “Go sit down. Dinner will be ready soon.” 

You can’t help but be aware of him as you finish up, knowing he has to hear the sizzling when you accidentally spill things onto the stove or the one mumbled curse you’re not quick enough to bite back. All evidence that you’re not nearly as practiced a cook as James. You can practically feel his grin from a room over. Still, when it's done you’re fairly proud of yourself. 

James is beaming as he accepts his bowl. He hikes his knees up so you can pass between the couch and the coffee table, making a show of sniffing the steam rising from the food. 

“Is this risotto?” he asks, waiting for your little nod before his mouth drops open in astonishment. “You are so sneaky! I didn’t know you could cook at all, let alone fancy shit like this.” 

“It’s not that hard to make.” You look down at your fork as you raise it to your lips, blowing. 

“Sure it is! Loads of people have a hard time with it.” 

“Do you?” 

James grins, caught. You feel your own smile tugging at your lips as you take a bite.

He follows suit, forking a bit of the risotto and blowing to cool it before taking it in his mouth. His eyes dip closed, head lolling back, and he moans. 

“Oh my god, this is good. I’m never cooking again, now that I know you can do this.” 

You take another bite to avoid a response. You’re fairly sure the heat from your face could power the apartment for a month. 

James makes a few more over-the-top compliments of your culinary skills, which you deflect as best you can. As always, you eat mostly silently while he chatters, but when you look over your attention gets snagged on his shoulder. 

He’s only using the one hand to eat, bowl resting in his lap while you hold yours up closer to your face. His ice pack sits beside him now that he can’t hold it on anymore. You catch yourself gnawing on the inside of your lip. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask. 

James looks over, following your gaze. “Yeah,” he admits. “Nothing I’m not used to, though.” 

You feel your eyebrows pinch. “You get hurt often?” 

He smiles bemusedly. “It’s rugby, love. Getting a bit roughed up is part of the deal.” 

This doesn’t sit right with you. Though you hadn’t pondered it much before, you realize you’ve sort of been thinking of James, with his muscles and constant smiles and easygoing manner, as somewhat invincible. He seems like such a source of light in the world, it hadn’t occurred to you that anything bad could happen to him. You don’t like the idea of him being hurt. In any capacity. 

You realize this is likely playing out on your face when you notice James watching you. His eyes are soft. “As much as I would love to milk this for attention and maybe a sponge bath,” he says, setting his fork in his bowl, “it’s really not that bad. See?” 

He pulls down the sleeve of his shirt, and the effort to placate you is wasted. You take in a quiet, horrified gasp at the deeply colored bruise on James’ shoulder. One of your hands raises as if to touch it. It hovers in the space between you. 

“That’s not that bad?” you look at James in alarm. “It looks broken.” 

“It’s not,” he laughs. It’s a bit awkward, as close to self-conscious as you’ve ever seen him. “Trust me, I’ve had a couple broken bones in my time. It’s only bruised, and the muscle’s a bit strained.” 

The muscle, you’re noticing now, is quite substantial. Your focus is on the bruise, but the shoulder beneath it is eye-catching as well, hefty and taut-looking, presumably from the strain. That, or James is flexing. 

You raise your gaze quickly to his. Brown eyes tinged with smugness. 

“You’re worried about me.” His lips stretch into a grin. Not your favorite one in his arsenal. “Aw, sweetheart, I love you too.” 

You direct your attention back to your food, face hotter than hot. “I have justification for worry,” you say, the teasing tone you were going for undercut by the unintentional softness of your voice. “You’re voluntarily participating in a sport that seems like it’s trying to kill you.” 

James takes a self-satisfied bite of his risotto. “I don’t know, I was pretty worried when you fainted in my arms last week.” 

You side-eye him suspiciously. “I didn’t actually do that.” 

“Guess you’ll never know.” 

[aeternallis]

Colin's jealousy just hits so well for me this season because unlike Simon and Anthony's jealousy (which mostly comes from male ego and physical lust), Colin's jealousy is born from something much deeper, beyond the surface-level, primitive instinct of seeing he has competition. That's not to say some of that isn't influencing Colin's actions, it most certainly is, but it's not the main force driving his emotions.

His jealousy doesn't come from out of nowhere, yknow?

His jealousy is born from shared history with one of the few genuine relationships in his life that he holds close to his heart, an unconscious, albeit cherished understanding that Penelope is a constant in his life. It's born from the slow, painful realization that he had lost her without even knowing it (further shaking his already flimsy resolve to try and fit into society's standards of being a typical rake), and whilst making a genuine effort to earn her good graces back, unwisely set himself up to lose her again.

Whereas Simon and Anthony's jealousy is superficial (and logically speaking, doesn't make much sense and only speaks to their self-entitlement due to their positions in society), Colin's jealousy is a humbling experience for him, which lends itself to his growth as a character and as a man. It's no wonder he'd described it as "a feeling that is like torture, but something he cannot, will not, does not want to give up."

Can y'all imagine Simon and Anthony having the same sentiment as that without it coming off as OOC? Simon was determined not to continue his family line and Anthony couldn't let go of his pride and obligations, pursuing Edwina until the latter had to set her foot down akjhdjsvbd If they had had any choice in the matter, both of them would have done their utmost to not have to feel anything towards their love interests pre-marriage. (Colin too made an attempt with that second brothel scene, but let's be real, it was half-assed at best)

Colin wants Penelope so much to the point he'd fully embraced even the torture of wanting her. And honestly? That's so damn refreshing to see, considering the typical romantic leads we usually see on television are trying to repress their emotions, not embrace it.

Colin yearns and wants, and he wants unashamedly. He's not jealous of Lord Debling; it's less about Lord Debling himself and the superb qualities he has that makes him an eligible gentleman specifically for Penelope and her circumstances, and more about being threatened by the concept of any other individual having the chance to establish that same emotional connection he has with Pen, and the possibility of that growing into something even more.

For all his kindness, Colin is actually quite possessive of that special connection he has with Penelope, and for a man who's already at odds and ends with his purpose in life and who he is in the grand scheme of the ton, understandably so.

It's why I knew in my gut during my first watch-through of s3 part 1 that although Colin had offered to help Pen find a husband by teaching her how to seduce men, he had never actually set out for it to be a successful endeavor. Lol If anything, it was just an excuse to be able to spend time with her. He had, albeit subconsciously, probably pictured the entire exercise to be something more along the lines of the incident with Lord Basilio, i.e. joking/gossiping w/ Pen about her prospective suitors and how unsuitable they are for her.

It's why Colin's excuses regarding Lord Debling about being a bad marriage prospect for Penelope sound so damn weak, his best reasoning being that he's "too particular."

For Colin, no man was ever going to be good enough for Penelope if it wasn't himself.

[sgtgarricks]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ i want your hands on me for all my life

simon riley x afab!reader cw: nsfw, angst, happy ending, mentions of simon's abusive past, talks about death, mentions of soap's death, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected piv sex, creampie!!, simon lets himself be happy yay

reblogs are immensely appreciated! <3

PREVIOUS PART: your gentle hands are enough

notes: this is the 2nd part for the people that want a happy ending :) this turned out sooo long LMFAO if you want to be sad just pretend this doesn't exist and read the other one! your feedback & comments help <3

Simon had always excelled at compartmentalizing his emotions ever since he was a child.

Growing up with an abusive father and an older brother who has hell-bent on scaring him had forced him to develop self-preservation tactics in order to survive their torment. Dissociating was a daily occurrence in his childhood years — it helped Simon escape the pain and torment that was being inflicted on his body.

Being in the military has not been that different.

He was still dissociating, but he was no longer on the receiving end of thrown punches and insults. He was now the perpetrator inflicting agony on his enemies for the good of the world. To rid the world of filth.

Simon Riley had become the ultimate soldier — lethal, swift, quiet, and was immune to the horrors of war, which was no surprise considering he had spent most of his childhood learning to lock away all the negative emotions. The ability had become innate, bleeding into his daily life and in turn, his relationships.

When Simon walked out the door, he had left all the hurt and sadness in the apartment with you. He trusted you'd keep a part of him safe until he came back and even if he didn't.

Simon had whole-heartedly accepted the risk that comes with the job, fully prepared to lay his life down if it meant a better world than yesterday. In fact, Simon knew death more intimately more than anyone. He'd knocked on death's door multiple times but always seemed to come out alive.

It was easy for him to not think of you. The anxious voice inside his head becomes static as he engrossed himself in the mission. The hard part comes when the dust has settled — when all that remain are cold corpses and bullet casings.

Sitting in the helicopter all bloodied accompanied by the sound of whirring blades wasn't usually bad. It would give him time to sit down and process his emotions. It let him feel the slight guilt that never goes away when taking a life — no matter how rotten.

But with each mission he went on after his abrupt departure, he finds himself constantly ruminating his entire reason for not wanting to get into a relationship with you.

Simon had wanted you to move on from him when he died, eventually. Forget the bruised and battered soldier and find someone whole, someone who could be there for you and love you without causing you anxiety every time their phone rang.

He thought himself selfless for trying to spare you, but his entire reason collapses with every mission he comes back alive.

What was his excuse now? What was he protecting you from?

The voices slink back into his mind the moment he gains a moment of peace. Whispers planting seeds of doubt in his mind, feeding on his insecurity and his fears. They're ruthless and persistent.

You don't deserve them. They're too good for you. You're going to leave them one day anyway, why bother?

He feels a tightness in his chest, as if a phantom hand was squeezing his heart that sends pulses of pain through him. His hand shakes slightly, fingers moving absent-mindedly trying to remember the feel of your skin.

"You alright, Lieutenant?" His captain's voice breaks him out of his trance. Simon is slightly startled but doesn't let it show. He merely grunts.

"'M alright."

Silence engulfs them once more. It goes one for one, two, maybe three minutes. It's suffocating. Simon can read people well enough by now that he knows there are questions lingering in the back of John Price's mind.

A part of Simon wishes he'd just spit it out, but the thought of having to explain seemed worse. Instead, Simon settles with a silent huff as the helicopter continues on its designated course.

The second the helicopter landed, Price simply nods at him, trusting him to get his shit together and walks off to his office. Simon does his usual routine, though instead of rushing through the motions, he's intentionally prolonging each action.

Whereas normally he couldn't get out of this place faster, now he almost dreaded the moment he would have to leave. Staying at the base meant monotonous, dull, predictable tasks. Leaving means he has to choose where to go — he has to actively force himself to not drive straight to your apartment despite the fact that every fiber in his being longs to be close to you.

He feels sick, a kind of illness spreading inside of him that only ever felt better when you were around him. A dull ache inside his body that only lights up when you touch him.

He runs a hand to his now damp hair, content with sitting on a sofa in the rec room. Normally, the place would be bustling with recruits goofing around with each other. But one glance at the broodier-than-normal look on the lieutenant's face had created a force field that pushed away everyone as to not get caught in its storm.

Simon doesn't know how long he sits there, half of him trying to convince himself to not come to you. That you don't deserve the broken man with a penchant for violence.

Chuckling lowly to himself, he shakes his head. What kind of demented higher power decided someone as kind as you be plucked and dropped into his sights?

Fifteen minutes went by as he pities himself in the rec room before a shadow in his peripheral vision causes him to look up.

"L.T.," Kyle nods towards him, leaning on the doorframe.

"Garrick." Simon grunts dismissively, not saying anything more. He hops the sergeant will take the hint on his own and leave the miserable bastard to his own devices.

Kyle worries for Simon. The brooding giant seems more miserable than usual — not more than after the incident, but still. Typically, he wouldn't even be able to catch a glimpse of his lieutenant after coming back from deployment. He'd usually opt to disappear from the base in record time.

The fact that he's here now, instead of wherever he usually hangs around, is slightly concerning.

"You alright, L.T.?"

Simon turns to him, slightly annoyed. "Why does everyone keep asking me that? Yes, I'm alright." He huffs. Kyle merely shrugs, unbothered by the icy gaze directed at him.

"Well, seeing as you haven't fucked off from the base yet and it's been," Kyle checks his phone for the time, "Around an hour? I'd wager something is wrong."

Sometimes Simon hated how observant Gaz was. Kyle's always been attentive, even more so now without Johnny's presence. It wasn't a secret that Johnny had been the lieutenant's shadow — always lingering near him, cracking jokes and pulling his leg.

His absence had naturally left a gaping void in Simon, oozing all the pain and hurt that comes with losing a comrade. Simon isn't naive, he knows death comes as a package with being in the battlefield. He's seen his fellow soldiers die, held them as they bled out. It was why he tended to keep to himself. After all, the less people you know, the less funerals you have to go to.

This worked most of the time, anyone who got close to Simon would get his arctic stare and cower off — most of the time anyway. Johnny was a different case. Johnny was a little bit of a nutcase to be honest. A talented, bright, pyromaniac, the youngest ever to pass SAS selection, with an arsenal of jokes in his pockets. The blue-eyed Scotsman got along quickly with Kyle, bantering with each other easily as if they had been long-lost friends.

While Johnny still had reservations about dicking around with the captain, he didn't seem to have the same problem with Simon. Seemingly happy to chatter off in his ear about anything, whether it was about shitty food, a lady he picked up from a bar, or jabs directed at Simon.

Johnny's bright disposition put Simon on edge. He wasn't used to seeing someone not be terrified of him. No matter how many glares he sent him, the bugger wouldn't leave him alone. Johnny would continue to go out of his way to talk to Simon, to sit next to him during lunch, and sometimes, Johnny would even manage to get Simon to open up just a little.

"What's on yer mind, L.T.?" Johnny nudged Simon with his elbow. The two men were both sat at the bar, the TV playing an old recording of a football match. It had taken Johnny ten minutes to convince Simon to go out for drinks and he planned on taking full advantage of it.

Johnny had been talking non-stop for around five minutes about his sister who had just gotten married, waiting for a reaction from Simon who seemed distracted. His eyes had strayed to the other side of the bar a few times, barely noticeable to the untrained eye, but Johnny was anything but.

"Nothin'." Simon had grunted, tearing his gaze away. A giant smirk plastered itself onto Johnny's face.

"Ah, been starin' at the sad one across the bar, aye?" Seeing Simon's eye widen a little had made Johnny even more gleeful. "Go on then. Ye have my full permission to ditch me tonight." He teased, winking at his lieutenant.

"Don't know what you're talking about, Johnny." Simon had denied instantly, taking a sip of his drink. A normal person would have left it at that, but Johnny wasn't your average person. He loved starting fires and Simon was a flame he wanted to see lit.

"Ach, come on L.T. what's the harm, eh? A little bit of flirting never hurt anyone." Simon didn't know this but Johnny wasn't going to let this go. It was the first time Johnny had ever seen Simon show interest in someone and he'd do anything to get Simon to at the very least, talk to them.

"They're a civvy, Johnny. Not gonna take any chances." Simon shook his head adamantly.

"That's bollocks! All we do is take risks anyway, at least on this one the worst that could happen is getting a drink thrown in yer face." Johnny chuckles, peering at the person across the bar who was clearly nursing a broken heart. Simon still made no move to get up from his chair.

Praying to whatever God was listening, Johnny hoped Simon wouldn't kill him after what he was going to do. Calling over the bartender, Johnny slid the man a fifty.

"Mate, give 'em a refill yeah? Tell 'em it's from the big bloke over here." Johnny signaled the bartender. Simon, who had finally processed what Johnny was doing, couldn't even get a word in. The bartender hastily took the money and went back to his station, ignoring Simon's call.

Simon could only watch in despair as the bartender presented the drink and pointed towards Simon. He received a shy smile, a mouthed 'thank you', and an expectant look.

"Now you've got to go there, mate. Otherwise you'll look like an arsehole!" Johnny threw his arms up, grinning triumphantly. The sergeant crossed his arms and wiggled his eyebrows.

Simon could've easily ignored Johnny and went back to his drink. But a part of him couldn't deny that he wanted to go over there and maybe talk to someone else that wasn't Scottish for a change. Against his usual logic, Simon decided to stand up from his chair.

"You're an arsehole." A glare was sent Johnny's way, although it had no weight behind them. As Simon began to walk away, he could hear Johnny laughing loudly.

"Yer welcome!"

Simon had never told Johnny you were the person who had been texting him during deployment, but he knew deep down that Johnny already knew. He'd asked multiple times, even tried sneaking a look.

He simply didn't want to admit that Johnny forcing him to talk to you that day had shifted Simon's world. He wished he told Johnny.

"We all miss him, L.T." Kyle's soft voice spoke again. He's closer now, dragging a chair from a table and sitting in front of Simon. Kyle knew he could never fill the giant void that Johnny left, but he felt a sense of responsibility to at least try. Price had become more closed off after his death whereas Simon had slowly been unraveling, little stitches coming loose a day at a time.

"All we can do is make sure it's not in vain." Simon sighs, hearing Kyle's words, knows he's right. That he can't go back to expecting the worst all the time, constantly on edge.

Johnny had breathed life into his ghostly presence, bringing Simon back into the realm of the living. The more Johnny got out of the lieutenant, the more people were able to see that Simon wasn't merely a visage, a ghost roaming the hallway. That he was a real person.

He was throwing away his chance at a second life. Perhaps it was also a twisted way of Simon punishing himself. If he couldn't save Johnny, couldn't save the man who managed to get him to talk to you, then he didn't deserve you. It was a round-about way of him trying to mend off the guilt eating away at him that had inadvertently claimed another victim.

"Thank you, sergeant." Simon stood up. Clapping his hand on Kyle's shoulder.

I see you.

"Don't mention it, sir."

The drive to your house takes around twenty minutes, which means that's all the time Simon has to try and figure out a way to atone for his sins.

They're too gracious to even hold a grudge against you. A small part of Simon tells him. While he hopes that's true, he still wants to apologize and acknowledge how unfair he's been to you. If not to make you feel better, at the very least it will ease his conscience.

He drums his finger on the steering wheel, the radio turned on but on low volume. For once, Simon wishes he had Johnny's ability to get out of problems with his alluring words and his kicked-puppy look.

Lost in his own thoughts, he hadn't even realized he's been sitting in his parked car for a few minutes. He clasps his hands when he realizes they're shaking. God, he was so terrified. Not of you, no. He was scared of having to see what he's done to you. Is terrified of really seeing the carnage Simon Riley had tore in you.

He lets out a bated breath and opens the car door. He knows you're home by now, probably cooking away while listening to some indie band. Resting his head on your door, he braces himself once more, and knocks.

He waits, the seconds feeling like hours. The door swings open and he sees your surprised face.

"Simon." You compose yourself immediately, not wanting to show any sort of weakness in front of him. Something twitches on the corners of his mouth hidden by the balaclava. As if realizing he's still wearing it, he takes it off.

"Can I come in?" He asks timidly, as if approaching a wounded animal. He had no idea how you'd react after him being gone for so long. Even during his three month deployments, he'd sometimes text you once every fortnight. But after the way he left things, he couldn't bring himself to message you at all. Couldn't even stomach the thought of you still pining over him after what he had done. It was easier for him to simply block your number. Photos of sunsets and coffee cups gathering dust in his photo album, unsent.

You didn't even think about it, your body unconsciously moving sideways to let him in. A part of you screams at yourself.

Idiot, show some dignity.

It had been so easy for you to let the man who had left you for six months without a word back into your apartment, into your life.

You felt like an addict. Constantly begging for your next fix and taking whatever scraps are thrown your way. It's pitiful, but you're too far gone, anyway. His dirty boots make contact with your hardwood floor, leaving small specks of mud on them. Simon notices the frown marring your face and begins to unlace his boots.

"Sorry." He apologizes, neatly tucking away his muddy boots at the side of your door. You close the door behind him, making your way towards your kitchen. The plate clatters loudly in the sink as you haphazardly put them away, clearly rattled.

Simon coughs slightly, words stuck in his throat. He'd prepared a small speech earlier yet all the words seem to escape him. All the courage he had mustered for his little speech all had but disappeared into thin air. He feels out of his depths, not used to being vulnerable.

"What are you doing here, Simon?" Your voice sounds so tired. He supposes he was to blame for that.

"Can we talk?" He sends you a pleading look, hoping you still felt a sliver of the love you used to harbor for him — the only thing stopping you from kicking him out.

"Oh, so after blocking me and radio silence for six months you've decided you want to talk?" The bitterness seeps into your words like venom. He can't even make himself physically recoil from the sharp edge of your tone. Simon can feel the thin rope right beneath his feet, one wrong step and he'd be falling off the edge.

He takes a deep breath. "I deserve that."

"Oh, you deserve more than that Simon Riley. I should kick you out right now." You were huffing now, going slightly red in the face. Had he not been so anxious he might've thought you look cute. But right now? He was downright terrified.

"Just-" Simon pinches his nose bridge, calming himself down. "Let me speak for a moment, yeah? After that if you want me to leave, I'll leave." He holds both his hands up.

You were livid, rightfully so. The man you love had essentially decided he didn't want to communicate with you anymore, breaking your heart. The first week you thought maybe something had happened to his phone, broken it maybe?

As the weeks turned into months, the realization dawned on you that he had purposefully blocked you, cut off all contact. At first there was only sadness. You spent your days crying into your blanket, some days barely functioning. The hurt and betrayal had emotionally drained you. Did all those years mean nothing to him?

You knew he had a hard time expressing his emotions, but never in your wildest dreams did you think he would throw you away just like that. Like you were nothing more to him than a good fuck. Despite your head telling you otherwise, the emotional baggage he had left you with didn't leave much option.

It was easier to hate him than to accept maybe he didn't love you at all.

You spent the first few months cursing into the wind hoping it'd somehow hurt him a fraction of how much he hurt you. Afterwards, the pain became a lingering , dull ache, but not debilitating anymore. It became a constant that you carry everyday.

Kicking him out the door was tempting, but you knew it wouldn't do you any good. If anything, the words left unsaid would become a leech — slowly draining away your curiosity until you eventually leave another voicemail.

You give him a pointed stare before sitting down on the couch. Simon slowly approached you, wanting nothing more than to sit next to you but choosing to sink into the other side of the couch. He sees you cross your arms, feeling more uncomfortable by the second.

"I jus' wanna say that I'm sorry." He stares into your eyes, slouched with elbows on his thighs. Seeing your mouth thin into a line, Simon knows he's going to have to do a lot better.

"When Johnny died..." Your eyes widen, arms slacking slightly. He'd talk about Johnny sometimes but sometime ago had entirely stopped mentioning his name altogether. You had suspected something terrible had happened but you didn't want to believe it.

"I was so angry. It's not fair. He was so young, had his whole future ahead of him. Told me he was gonna see his sister's newborn on his next leave." He breathes out, clenching his fists.

"All of that, gone. We haven't even caught the bastard yet." Simon runs an exasperated hand through his face. Your arms were no longer crossed, choosing to fiddle with the edge of your shirt. You wanted to comfort him so badly, wanted to take him into your arms and tell him everything's going to be okay. But he was still pouring his heart out and you wanted to greedily snatch every piece he was willing to give.

"I had constant nightmares for months. Sometimes, I still do. You're just a heavy sleeper, I suppose." He chuckles and catches the way the edge of your mouth turn up.

"It's never easy, losing someone. It changes you. I used to hear his nonsense almost everyday and now it's just not there. I'm terrified one day it'll be like he was never there at all." Simon looks away, blinking tears away.

"But he was there. I know that. I felt him. He was like the fucking sun, but instead of being 150 million kilometers away, he's next to my ear with his Scottish nonsense." Simon chuckles bitterly, reminiscing the times when Johnny had to translate his gibberish.

You stay quiet, letting him speak freely. You had a feeling where this was going and how Johnny's death had indirectly impacted your relationship.

"If I died tomorrow, would you be okay?" His question catches you off guard. It was a question you've pondered a thousand times before, and every time you only ever came up with one answer.

"No." You answer honestly, because you'd break either way. Whether it was tomorrow or a year from now. You can feel a part of Simon in your bloodstream that if he died, some part of you would die with him.

"I only ever wanted you to be okay." He straightens, testing the waters by moving closer to you. You let him.

"Would you prefer if I never loved you at all?" Your heart was thumping loudly in your chest you worried he could hear it.

"No." His answer was immediate, as if he'd never been as sure before. "Not selfless enough for that."

"Then are you selfless enough to accept that I would want it to hurt?" You put your hand on top of his, gently grasping them within yours. Simon feels the broken pieces of him mending together.

He's quiet, not sure how to respond. He didn't use to understand why people would put themselves on the line, but he's starting to.

"If you died, I'd want it to hurt. I'd want it to take my breath away. I'd want it to keep me awake at night. I'd want every single bone in my body to ache when you're gone, because that would mean I have loved you with all of me."

You don't realize you'd started crying. There was no distance anymore between you and Simon. His thigh pressed against yours as you clutch his hand to your chest.

"I want it to hurt so badly, because I want to love you deeply." Tears were streaming freely down your face you couldn't even stop them even if you wanted to.

"Simon, will you let me hurt for you?"

And he lets you.

"Okay." His hand go to engulf your frame, but you had thrown yourself at him before he managed to. Simon can feel his shirt getting wet, he'd never thought he'd be slightly happy over the fact that you were crying.

Everything's going to be okay.

Your head was now on his collarbone, his palm gently holding you there. You feel a kiss on the top of your head as he strokes it.

Neither of you know how long you simply cried on him, much less when you ended up on his lap. When he heard you stop — tired from the energy you exerted, he slowly rearranges his body so that you are able to lie fully on top of him. His sore back is the last thing on his mind as he sees your peacefully sleeping away.

A pounding headache eventually woke you. You weren't sure if last night really happened or if your mind had conjured a scenario where Simon came back for you. However, the sweltering heat you feel on your midsection proves otherwise.

He really was here.

His eyes were closed, seeming to be asleep. You test the waters, placing your palm on the left side of his face. A hand immediately darts towards your hand and keeps it there.

"Put some pills on your nightstand for the headache." He murmurs, eyes still closed. His face turns slightly, placing a kiss on your palm. Even after half a year away, he still knows you like the back of his hand.

Leaning in, you give him a peck on the cheek. As much as you want to drink in the sight of him, there were more pressing matters at hand. You need the reassurance. You need him to tell you he wasn't going to abandon you again.

"Simon, did you mean it?" You can't get the entire words out, can only hope it was enough to convey your tumultuous emotions. His heart aches that you don't believe him, but he understands.

"I love you, sweetheart." Soft lips descend upon your own, barely brushing.

"'M here to stay as long as you want me here." He sneaks a hand under you, pulling you closer to him. There isn't any part of you that's not connected to him in some way.

He was so warm, scorching you inside out. You wanted his flame to burn every inch of your skin. When he left, everything felt cold to the bone, your life turning into muted blues and grays.

Simon brought warmth into your life, with his little acts of service. With the little trinkets he brings back after deployment because it reminded him of you. With his gentle hands, gentle kisses — his gentle self.

"I love you, Si." You whisper, grabbing him by the neck and lowering your lips onto his. Brushing softly, you were going to pull away when Simon lets out a moan. Heat builds inside of you as you slip your tongue inside his open mouth. He grunts in surprise, holding you still for a second. But you're impatient.

"Need you." You whine, "Want you so much, Si."

"Yeah?" He mumbles against your lips, running his hands through your hair gently.

"Thought I'd be in the dog house much longer than that, love." He teases you. Simon yelps slightly when you retaliate by biting on his lower lip. He grips both your cheeks with his fingers, pushing you away from him.

"That wasn't very nice of you, hmm?" He gently shakes your head, grinning handsomely. "Think you need a little lesson in being nice, sweetheart. Lucky for you, I'm an excellent teacher." He leans in and kisses your puckered lips, working his way downwards.

His hands wander everywhere, working themselves underneath your shirt. You feel goosebumps rise where his fingertips lay, shivering under his hold.

"Missed you so much, Si. Please." Your moans echo throughout the room. He's holding your thighs together as he trails down your body as you writhe.

"Missed you too, love. Fuck, missed you so fucking much." He manages to say. He cups your ass as he mouths at your panty-covered mound. Your juices seep through the fabric, making Simon groan.

"Mmm.. Someone missed me too." He runs his tongue up and down your slit as you cross both your legs behind his neck. He felt you clench your thighs and he feels blood rushing downwards. Turning his head slightly to the right, he nips lightly at your inner thigh.

He'd barely touched you but here you are already begging for it. Simon Riley has you wrapped around his finger and it scares you a little how much of a hold he has on you. You had bared your neck so openly for him and he had bit down the first chance he got.

"Will you let me take care of you, love? Make you feel good." He hums, fingers trailing along your inner thigh waiting for permission. You nod fervently before realizing he can't see you.

"Yes, yes, yes. Need you to take care of me, Si." Your heart was beating fast out of anticipation.

"Yeah? I'll make you feel good, baby." He coos at you as his fingers slowly pull down your panties. Strings of your juices were sticking to the insides. He threw them aimlessly, eyes zeroed in on your wet pussy.

His finger runs through your folds, making squelching noises. "All this for me, hmm?" He tilts his head up, pinching when you don't reply immediately. The sudden sensation makes you whimper.

"All for you, Si. Just for you." You were panting heavily as Simon sucks your clit into his mouth and licks in a circular motion. You thread your fingers in his hair, not tugging harshly.

Simon laps at your pussy like a starved man, burying his entire face in your warmth. He moans between every few licks, the taste of you dazing him. Your eyes glaze over as you see the man you love pleasuring you with earnest. He continues for a while, alternating his focus between your bud and your folds.

When you tug at his shirt impatiently, Simon grunts. He gets up and throws his shirt over his head. Not one second after it's off, you begin to paw at him, desperate to feel every inch of him.

Simon thinks he's never seen such a beautiful sight. Your hair was messy from your movements, eyes hazy as he can feel goosebumps on his body where you stare. He grabs your face and kisses you desperately, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. His clothed bulge was grinding messily against your wet pussy as his boxers begin to darken from the wetness.

Simon's whimper fill the room when he feels you grinding upwards to rub yourself on his cock. He pulls from your lips with a string of saliva. Not waiting for him, you scramble to take off your shirt, baring your tits to him.

His eyes drink in the state of you greedily, one hand groping your tits as the other travels down to your pussy. You were beyond wet enough for his cock, but he's determined to make you cum on his fingers first.

Two fingers slip into you gently. The stretch catches you off guard, it's been a while since you've had his thick fingers probing inside you. His fingers were thrusting shallowly as you grind on his palm.

"Fuck, Simon. Feels so good." You babble, barely able to keep your eyes open, the pleasure overwhelming your senses.

"Yeah? Gonna make you feel even better." With that, his fingers thrust deeper into you, massaging your spot. Your back arches as Simon plants his face on your chest, sucking on your nipples.

He crooks his fingers slightly as he continues thrusting, his palm touching your clit with each time. You couldn't stay still anymore, moving your hips back to meet his thrusts.

The room was filled with wet, squelching noises and your combined moans. Your hands were gripping his bicep, feeling the large muscle flex under your fingertips.

His thick fingers continue his ministration as you begin to climb higher and higher. Your walls begin to pulse and constrict his fingers. Sweat drips down his forehead as he continues to drive into your pussy with his deft fingers.

"You gonna cum on my fingers, love?" He teases, placing kisses all over your damp face.

"Yes, oh fuck. Please, please let me cum."

Simon grins against your neck, placing sloppy kisses all over. His fingers begin to speed up even faster, hitting your sweet spot with every effort. You feel the familiar tingling sensation begin to build in your core.

Your legs begin to tremble as you struggle to get air inside of your lungs. Panting harshly, you close your eyes as your orgasm starts to reach its peak.

His hand leaves your tits as they begin to rub circles on your clit. The combined assault on your clit and your pussy brings you over the edge.

"Look at me when you cum." Your eyes open immediately as you find him staring directly into yours. Your legs tremble deliciously, hands gripping Simon even tighter as you feel your orgasm wash over you. Mouth agape, your back continues to arch as Simon doesn't stop, overstimulating you with a few shallow thrusts.

Simon's hand was covered in your juices as he slowly withdraws them. Your pussy clenches, feeling empty. He brings his fingers to your mouth and taps your lips. Obediently, you open your lips and let him slide his fingers inside your mouth.

Circling your tongue all finger, your eyes begin to close again. When you blink them open, you see Simon's bare body hovering above yours. His cock was standing proudly, shiny with precum. You feel the urge to take his cock into your mouth. When your hand tries to reach for him, it's stopped by his firm grip.

"Next time, yeah? Need to fuck your pretty pussy, baby." He slowly pulls his fingers out of your mouth, wiping them on his hip. He repositions his cock at your pussy, sliding the head up and down your folds.

Tilting your head down, you see Simon's hand grip his cock firmly as it slowly rubs his precum all over your pussy. He groans seeing your juices mix together. Moving your hips upwards, you try to push his head in and he hisses.

He grabs your hips and gently lowers them on the bed. "You just lay there and take it, yeah? Let me do all the work." You preen, more than happy to lay there and see him move above you.

"Put it in, Si. Missed your cock so much." You whimper, pressing delicate kisses on his neck. He nudges your nose with his, capturing your lips into a kiss. Your moan gets interrupted by your own grunt of surprise as the head of his cock slips in.

His cock was thicker than his two fingers, with veins running all over the shaft rubbing your walls deliciously. You link your legs behind his waist, helping him push deeper.

When he's inside you, it's like two pieces of puzzle fitting together. His cock fit so perfectly inside you, as if you were made for him and him for you. You knew Simon was it for you a long time ago, falling head over heels so easily for the grumpy soldier. You weren't happy at how long it took him to come to his senses, but you're glad either way.

He thrusts slowly, going deeper with each shift of his hips. His tongue tangles with yours as wet noises fill the room. You know when he's pushed in to the hilt when you feel him bump against your cervix slightly. Your pussy clenches at the tiny pain, causing Simon to moan out.

"Fuck, you're squeezing me so well, sweetheart." He stays there for a moment, grinding his cock inside. You only stop kissing when you pull away to beg him to start moving. Both his hands are placed firmly on your hips when he begins thrusting.

He moves back and forth slowly, the walls of your pussy feeling every drag of his big cock. You hiss against his mouth, the sensation lights up every nerve in your body. You beg him to go faster but he ignores you, continuing to sink slowly.

When you're about to wail at the pace again, he thrusts sharply — his cock sinking deep into your pussy. You gasp, clawing his back when he continues to move slowly but going deep with each thrust. You can hear the sound of his balls smacking against your ass.

Your combined juices were dripping out of your pussy, causing wet noises whenever he moves inside you. You don't know how long he continues his brutal motion, your eyes dazed and breath unsteady.

You've never felt this way before. It feels as if he's everywhere inside you, there isn't a part of you that doesn't feel touched by him. He thrusts as if he's trying to imprint himself in you, trying to permanently leave a mark.

"Such a pretty pussy. Doing so well f' me, sweetheart. You gonna let me cum in you? Gonna let me fill you up nicely?" He grunts, his composure starting to unravel. His cock begins to piston in you messily as he loses himself in your pussy.

"Yes, yes, yes. Fuck, love you so much, Si. Need your cum in me." You cry out desperately, tightening your legs and pulling him deeper inside you.

"So good to me, love. Letting me cum in your pretty pussy." His form begins to shake slightly from exertion. You know his hands were going to bruise your hips from how hard he was gripping them but you couldn't care less.

Your body moves up and down from the force of his thrust. His cock touching your cervix with each delicious thrust. Your pussy begins to pulse wildly on his cock as you feel another orgasm build inside you. When his cock begins to pulse, your eyes roll to the back of your head as it sends you over the edge. You moan out his name loudly, pulling him by the neck to your chest as his arms hug you to him.

You feel his desperation and love when he holds you. He hugs you so tight to him your ribs ache. You never want this feeling to go away.

"I love you so much, fuck." Your orgasm triggers his own, his cock pulsing as his creamy load fills up your pussy. He's so snug inside your pussy the excess cum begins to drip out. When he stops unloading inside you, he moves slowly, thrusting a few times shallowly. A part of him wants to look at the way his seed drips from your pussy but he didn't want to move away from you.

You both pant with eyes closed as your breathing begins to even out. Simon slowly pulls out and you hiss at the feel of his cock leaving you empty. You look down and see his cock covered in his cum and yours.

Your head falls back down to the pillow, eyes closing shut. Simon stares at the ceiling and huff, righting himself. You feel him plant a kiss to your forehead as the bed dips.

"'M gonna go clean us up, yeah? You stay there." You hear him step into the bathroom, going to wash himself and grab a clean towel to clean up your mess. By the time he came back, you had already passed out, judging by the sound of your low snores.

He begins to wipe your thighs and try to dry the surrounding areas as best he can. He'll change the sheets later when you're well-rested. Simon climbs into bed, hugging you to him. He runs his fingers through your hair, slowly unknotting them one by one.

He stares at your sleeping from and grins. Lowering his lips to yours, he keeps them there for a few seconds.

"I love you."

You can only mumble in response, too tired to properly articulate the words.

"I love you too, Simon."

[evvyyypeters-fics]

A Ghost In the Bed

Perv!Tate Langdon x dom!f!reader oneshot

Warnings! Pure smut, porn w/ zero plot, masturbation (male), handjob, obsession, pantie fucking, femdom, a lil mommy kink, humiliation

In honor of it being officially Murder House season (to me at least) I bring u this masterpiece I created. Inspired mainly by @fear-is-truth

It was the blood moon tonight, and suspiciously every time the sun dipped under the horizon and the moon glared down onto the cold ambience of autumn, Tate’s libido sky rocketed. His eternal teenage hormones spiking to a point that was unbearable. And it didn’t help now that you were living in the infamous ‘Murder House’, Tate’s obsession with you dark and lustrous like the red glow of the other-worldly planet.

You were out at a friend’s house tonight, Tate had overheard you asking your mom to go, and she obliged as usual. Needing you so desperately, he craved. Imagining your soft skin, biting it, tasting it’s warmth. Feeling it tingle through his cold, dead soul. The harmonic string of melodies that he could pull from your throat as he buries himself in your flesh, caressing it, pounding you. Even the way your tits rested under your shirt, your cleavage peaking sometimes and sending sparks through his body, or the view of your ass as you walked up the stairs, always making sure he followed behind you just to see it and hopefully a glimpse of your panties that day from under your skirt. The ghostly feeling of his imaginations traveling straight to his cock, twitching uncomfortably in his pants. He needed relief, and he needed it bad. If only you were there to help him, if only he knew you wanted to help him.

At first his mind muttered silent prayers that you wouldn’t somehow find him desperately rutting into your favorite pair of cotton panties, his hand wrapped tightly around his shaft as he used the soft fabric to create a strangely pleasurable friction, his pre-cum soaking them with the perfect amount of lube.

The sounds were obscene, yet muffled by the cloth. On the other hand, his moans were not. Shamelessly he whined, whimpering obscenely as he came closer and closer to the edge, using his fantasies of you as fuel as he fist fucked into your panties like a bunny in heat, but there was no final wave. No release, just the aching feeling of the weight of his hard cock, pounding. He was starting to get too desperate, his thoughts drowning as all he wanted anymore was for you to save him from this torment. He didn’t care if you hated him for it, he just needed your touch. Your comfort. To cum.

“Tate…?” A familar voice chirped curiously, the door creaking open.

Shit. He thought. You were back early.

He instantly sat up, hiding his proud cock with a nearby pillow resting on your bed. His face was beat red, his eyes watery and skin persperating with small beads of sweat. Pupils blown, his jaw slack as he stutters an excuse than hangs from the tip of his tongue, it’s clear what happened. Tate was ready for the scream, the insults, the anger, the disgust. But there was none, you surely looked surprised, but he couldn’t see any distain in your staring eyes.

“Why are you back? You weren’t supposed to be back yet!” He blurts out a little loudly, his voice trembling. He didn’t mean to be accusatory, you knew.

“I got bored and wanted to come home..” You reply slowly, taking invisble steps closer towards the bed.

“You know…what are you doing in my bed, Tate?” You ask, wanting to taunt him in his vulnerable state, see how far you can push him and make him melt even more into a puddle. He shivers as he begins to notice the growing warmth of your body leaning closer to his frozen position on your mattress. Hoping your eyes don’t look down at the conspicuous pillow, anxiety striking his heart as just in that moment you do. There’s something predatory in it that makes his spine shiver.

“N-Nothing. I just…missed you.” The words are forcefully calm and monotone, trying to sound casual. A dumb excuse he came up with spontaneously that you both knew didn’t work to hide anything.

“You missed me, huh?” You smile devilishly as you press a hand in the mattress next to him, his whole body lighting on fire, his breathing begins to labor with the pure lava of lust flowing to his dick. Your hand mere inches away from where he needed you most.

“Is that all?” He swallowed thickly, his eyes darting from your hand to your gleaming eyes.

“I—uh.” He chokes on his words. “N-no..” He admits shamefully, his gaze tilting away.

“Do you want me to help you fix it?” You lean into his ear, whispering hotly against it which makes his face light up pinker, every hair on his body on end.

He swallows thickly again before nodding.

“Use your words, puppy.” You croon, pinching his chin between your fingers and gently forcing his glossy coffee eyes to look at you.

“P-Please.” He whines, causing your heart to squeeze a little.

“Good boy. Let mommy see.” You smile slyly, pulling away your hand as he lays back comfortably into the mattress, removing the pillow from over his length as you climb beside him. Kneeling over his legs.

“So naughty.” You tease as you pull away the sticky pair of panties wrapped around his shaft, precum beading thickly at his tip as he twitches from the touch or lack thereof.

His hips automatically jerk up, trying to reach your hand as you pull away the material. A small giggle slips past your lips that makes him whine into a bitten lip.

“Poor baby, all worked up, I won’t tease you any longer.” You coo, prodding a pad of your finger at the practically purple pillowy head.

He instantly lets out a muffled gutteral moan, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, embarrassed by the pathetic sounds as you wrap your hand around him. Collecting the slick and coating his cock with it as you start a leisurly pace that slowly picks up, leading him to buck into your fist wildly.

“Let me hear you, puppy.” You say softly, watching between his perfect cock and his adorable face as he tries to hide the very obvious sounds bellowing from his throat. “Let me hear those pretty sounds you make.” Forcing a gutteral sound to spill from his lips as you press a finger into the sensitive head.

Your words make his heart and brain melt, the feeling of your hand on him being even better than he anticipated. He can feel himself getting closer, hips slamming at the same pace as your fist, pre-cum drooling over your hand as he moans pathetically. The sound of his voice getting thicker and more desperate, his muscles tensing.

“Cum for me, puppy. C’mon, let it all out.” You soothe, something clicks in his brain and he instantly busts, long and thick milky ropes shoot out, more than you thought was possible and drawing a long moan from his lips as his head pushed back into the pillow behind it. His thighs shuddered, toes curled until the ropes subsided and rested coated on your hand and his cock.

“Feel better?” You ask, slowly removing your hand as he comes down from the high.

Practically drunk on pleasure and blissed-out, he nods silently.

“Good. Next time, maybe just ask me first before jerking off into my panties.” You scold light-heartedly as you raise up the half-crusted fabric to the culprit’s gaze and he quickly hides his blushing face guiltily.

Taglist (you can be added or removed at any time):

@fear-is-truth @xkaisxjazzxsingerx @lemoniiiiiii @jazz-berry @marchsfreakshow @colinzabelswife @dearlizzies @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re @xrag-dollx @lacucarachapisser @alittleobsessedbitch

[sttoru]

“AS IF THE MEMORIES HAVE A HEART THAT ONLY BEATS AT NIGHT.”

༄ sypnosis. your boyfriend is on a business trip, yet always finds the time to call you at night. though, this time he’s lonely and in need of comfort.

༄ note. inspired by one of mahmoud darwish’s poems plus by my love for this man. sigh he’s so pretty. excuse me if this is too sappy.

༄ tags. satoru x reader. female reader. pet names such as ‘sweet, love, baby, babe, angel”. satoru is clingy. this is just uhh, fluff and sprinkles of angst + reverse comfort. spoilers jjk manga (stuff w/ suguru & toji).

“what are you doing,” “where are you,” and “who’s with you,”

satoru, as always, didn’t give you the chance to greet him properly once you picked up his call. your boyfriend was sent on a mission overseas and has been calling you every night since.

he says it’s to ‘hear your pretty voice’ and because he apparently ‘can’t survive without hearing it at least once a day’.

“satoru— love, calm down.” you chuckle softly, putting the call on speaker before going back to eat your dinner.

you hear the sorcerer let out a small whine over the phone, “my bad, sweet. you know i always look forward to speaking with you.”

you hum lightly in response. satoru has always had the habit to call you whenever he misses you even in the slightest of amounts.

some may find that annoying, however you’re aware that you are the only person satoru can rely on at the end of the day. that’s exactly why you try your best to answer all of his phone calls.

“how’d the mission go?” you ask after swallowing a bite of your food.

“pfft, the usual. dealt with some annoying curses that’ve been plaguing the area.” your boyfriend groans; he wished he didn’t have to take care of his duties so he could be with you all the time.

satoru just wanted to hold you in his arms, cuddle you, shower you with love, take you out on cute dates and spoil you with all kinds of gifts. his responsibilities as a teacher and as the strongest sorcerer constantly got in the way of that simple dream.

“good work, baby. you did well today.” you reply, earning a small ‘i-know-i-did’ huff from your boyfriend.

“thanks,” satoru adds, his voice muffled. it sounded like he had some food in his mouth, which you easily guessed was something sweet, “you know.. i was thinking about us— eh, you in particular.”

a silence falls over the phone afterwards. it was like satoru gave you a moment to process his words before he continues.

“well, when do you not think about me?” you snicker.

you couldn’t see it, but satoru rolled his eyes at your comment before letting a chuckle escape his lips, “hey! was trying to create a sentimental mood there.”

“but, i guess— yeah. true.” your words were the truth; satoru was a hopeless man when it came to you. you’ve invaded his thoughts, his heart and even his soul.

“anyways,” your boyfriend continues, pausing slightly to swallow the snack in his mouth, “i know i say this every day, but i wish you were here with me.”

you stop chewing on your food as soon as you hear the slight change of tone in satoru’s voice. you immediately knew that he needed you at the moment.

“mhm, i know,” you reply quietly. you wanted to let him get it all out before comforting him properly with your words.

satoru took that short answer as a sign to keep talking and opening up about his feelings to you.

“it’s just,” he sighs defeatedly, “actually, i don’t know. i guess being alone during times like these really gets to me.”

satoru stared at the ceiling as he laid on his back. his phone was on the pillow right next to his head, also on speaker.

when he’s with you, it’s easy to forget about all kinds of gloomy thoughts that may enter his mind. all satoru has to do is focus his attention on you and he won’t have any time to dwell on such stuff.

however when he’s alone, he’s left with his own brain and the thoughts that ate away at him ever since the inevitable incident with toji a few years ago.

suguru. amanai.

rustling sounds; satoru’s moving positions on his bed to somehow focus on your voice again.

“i guess it’s also because it’s unknown what the future holds.” satoru pauses. this time the pause was for him to collect his thoughts.

you knew what he meant by that; satoru had went through a few traumatic events over the years. he’s faced betrayal, loss and death ever since he was a teenager.

even if he doesn’t say nor show it, satoru is scared of what the future holds for him. especially with you in the picture now— he doesn’t want you to change or disappear on him. the thought alone makes his heart ache.

“..hey, can you promise me one thing, angel?” satoru eventually speaks up again, his voice a hushed whisper over the phone.

“of course. what is it?” you answer softly.

a third and short silence falls between you again.

“promise me that you’ll stay safe.” satoru sounds like he’s desperately trying to keep his tone neutral, however you could sense some vulnerability in there.

now that you’re thinking about it, you’ve never seen or heard satoru cry out in sadness or distress. though you know for sure that those feelings are building up somewhere inside of him. it’s only a matter of time before they need to be released.

“i promise,” you start in a comforting tone, “i promise i’ll stay safe, satoru.”

you could hear your boyfriend sigh in relief. just a small promise like that was enough to calm him down a little. for now, that is.

“i’ve failed many people before,” satoru continues, still trying to keep the tone of his voice neutral, “however, i will not fail you.”

you nod to yourself. the rest of your dinner was getting cold as you used your chopsticks to absentmindedly poke the rice while listening to satoru over the phone.

“you’re too important for me to lose,” he murmurs, taking a deep breath to steady his voice, “if it ever comes to that.. i don’t know what i’ll do.”

satoru actually doesn’t know how he’ll react or what he’ll do if you—the only person worth fighting for—would leave him; will all the thoughts come crashing down on him and cause him to finally break down?

he doesn’t know. nor does he want to find out. ever.

“don’t you worry, love.” you answer, “i hereby promise you that i won’t leave your side any time soon.”

you sigh, a small smile on your face which satoru couldn’t witness. you figured to cheer him up with your own words— it felt like he needed a mix of distraction and comfort at the moment and that’s what you wanted to give him.

“i’m not going anywhere. you’re completely and utterly stuck with me for now.” you playfully warn him, putting emphasis on the two words, “there’s no backing out of this, ‘toru.”

the sorcerer couldn’t help but laugh slightly at your last remark; you always knew how to make him feel better in an instant. that’s why he loved you to death,

“make that forever and we have a deal.”

“fiiine,” you reply in an over exaggerated tone before giggling, “forever it is. don’t get bored of me any time soon then.”

“oh, don’t you worry, angel.” satoru chuckles, sighing the stress away in one deep breath, “i’ll never get bored of my favourite girl. never in a million years.”

he sits up on his bed before standing up and walking to the window of his hotel room. satoru looked outside while grabbing another snack from a nearby table.

the sky was beautiful; it reminded him of you, though your beauty was no match for the sky. you were prettier than nature itself.

“satoru.” you call out to him over the phone and he immediately snaps back to reality.

“yeah, baby?” he replies, unwrapping his chocolate bar with one hand in the meantime.

“be reaaaal honest with me. like really honest.” a grin forms on your face as you thought of what to say next.

“you know i always speak the truth with you,” satoru mutters with a smile while putting a piece of chocolate in his mouth, “go on.”

“how many of those chocolate bars have you eaten today?”

the question caught satoru off guard and he instantly stops chewing.

satoru turns his head to the left and then to the right, eyes narrowed and body in a defensive stand like somebody was going to attack him any time soon.

“wh— the hell? how did you know? don’t tell me you’ve been secretly watchin’ me the entire time.”

you could already picture the way he’s probably checking his entire hotel room at the moment. your poor boyfriend may be strongest, but not when it comes to such silly ‘scary’ stuff. it’s adorable.

“babe, you never go a day without eating that one specific chocolate bar.” you giggle softly, taking another bite of your own food, “i’ve come to know your eating habits by now.”

“that so?” satoru grins to himself as he puts another piece in his mouth, “what am i thinking at the moment then? if you know me so well.”

you roll your eyes and get up to put your dishes away, taking your phone with you to the sink. “hmm.. well let me think.”

“take all the time you need, baby.”

satoru constantly tells you that you’re always on his mind, so you figured that this time wouldn’t be any different.

you know it’d probably be something sappy that’ll make you both giggle uncontrollably.

“maybe, something like—“ you start in a teasing tone, “i don’t know, uhh— ‘i love you?’”

there it goes; the uncontrollable giggles and laughter that fill both of your ears. it felt like you were two young teenagers in love again.

“damn, i’m really that predictable, huh?” satoru eventually says, trying to catch his breath as his tummy started to hurt from laughing so much.

“nah. i’d say it’s the power of love.”

another fit of laughter follows.

so, the night went on and on; going from discussions about random stupid stuff to deep philosophical conversations and back to the cheesy, lovey dovey remarks.

and of course, the call wouldn’t end without a direct and sleepy ‘i love you’ from your dear boyfriend.

[ssahotchnerr]

so this is kind of heartbreaking but it's so 🥺🥺 at the same time, here it goes:

As a kid - and even now tbh - i used to have nightmares 24/7 for no apparent reason and I can't stop thinking like what if ellie had that? Like she sleeps in her little bed but always wakes up crying because of her nightmares 🥺🥺

At first you and Aaron have no idea what to do but comfort her and let her sleep in your bed for as long as she wants, saying it's a small phase and it'll pass (since maybe you or Jack or even Aaron had it when you were kids) but it just doesn't

He'd be so worried 🥺 taking his baby girl to every doctor he could find, asking Reid all about it and taking notes (literal notes, pen paper notes 😭) and trying everything

But the only thing that helps is holding her until she stops crying 🥺

My heart is broken but the thought is out 😃

omg 🥺

at first, you and aaron think it's just one of her famous excuses to sleep in your bed - due to her past history - but very soon it becomes very clear that's not the case 🥺 like ellie will already be sleeping in your bed, a nightmare wakes her up, and she's nearly inconsolable. she scrambles on top of aaron and clings onto him for dear life, and it then takes her ages to fall back asleep afterwards 😭

but yeah, you both think it'll run it's course and be over soon; jack had bad nightmares for a while - after foyet :( but those dreams at least had a clear reason as to why they were occurring. but for ellie?? you can't seem to figure out the reasoning at all. even asking her about them makes her super upset :(

and she's just soo exhausted some days due to the lack of sleep she's getting. she's more grumpy throughout the day - which is soo unlike her since she's the happiest little girl there ever was 🥺 has meltdowns over the tiniest things, falls asleep amidst playing with her toys. you peer into the playroom one day, and ellie's zonked out on the carpet in front of her dollhouse :( <3 plus she's so much more clinger than usual - she's either glued to aaron's or your side, and wants to do everything with you.

and aaron 🥺 worried is an understatement. he stays awake at night anticipating her waking up in terror, and he feels sooo incredibly guilty when he's away. he barely gets sleep those nights; knowing back home, ellie is going to be waking up all afraid and there's quite literally nothing he can do about it. and the fact he's the one who gets her to calm down when he's home too :( he fully knows you can manage without him of course, but he still feels like he's letting her down :( just the fact that the nightmares are simply continuing make him feel as if he's letting her down :( he wishes more than anything he could just take them away from her, resolve them, so his ellie bellie can be her happy, rested self again 🥺

the two of you are seeking out all the advice/help possible. you talk to numerous doctors, specialists, the team (more so reid), and try alternating ellie's daily routine. she doesn't watch the same shows, read the same books, maybe switch up her diet, in attempt to find what the trigger may be. in addition, you really try to relax her before bed: a warm bath, warm milk, cuddles, a nightlight, putting on soft music/a sound machine to fall asleep to. 🥺 just trying anything in order for her nightmares to stop :(

[obeymeshallwedateaddict]

The unexpected rainfall

Imagine. It is a regular day in the Devildom. There was nothing too serious going on. But that's when it starts raining without you expecting it. How will the brothers react in this situation? Will things have a romantic turn or not? Find out!

Contains: Fluff

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

............................................................................

Lucifer

It was a long day at RAD. You had an exam and a few boring lectures so you were practically exhausted. When you finally exited the RAD halls you took in a deep breath and exhaled in contentment. You began walking down the street on your way back to the house of Lamentation when you suddenly felt a dropped on your cheek. You stop in your tracks and look up to see the cloudy sky while brushing the droplet with your thumb. And then another droplet falls. And a few more before it begun raining. It wasn't something too bad at first but soon enough it started pouring. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to snuggle up and began walking faster. That's when suddenly it stopped raining on you. You felt a hand on your lower back and you look behind yourself to see Lucifer – Covering you with his umbrella. He smiled gently at you before speaking up.

-Forgot to bring an umbrella today? –He asks and you nod.

-I didn't know it was going to rain.. –You mumble before the demon's arm wraps around you and he pulls you against his body.

-Well it works for me, because it seems like we will be walking together under my umbrella, hm? –The first-born teases. And you let out a subtle chuckle.

-Seems like it. –You say and look up at him as if you are expecting something from him. His smirk widens and he leans down to leave a gentle kiss to your lips.

-Come on, my love. –With that you and Lucifer walk home together with his arm wrapped around your waist. The walk home took longer than usual. The eldest wasn't on a rush to take you home. He much preferred having you close to him under his umbrella in the intimate setting. It was a way of showing the world that you were his lover.

Mammon

You and Mammon had gone to watch horse races and of course the second-born lost some grimm at it. He said it just wasn't his lucky day but if you go by that excuse every day is Mammon's unlucky day. And of course the demon was feeling under the weather. When you exited the building you were stunned to see that it was pouring outside. And neither of you had brought umbrellas. You stood there under the small shelter watching the rain when you suddenly felt Mammon grip your hand. You look towards him but he wasn't at his place anymore. That's when you felt the demon pulling you into the rain. You almost stumble at your feet to how fast Mammon was running.

-Hey! Mammon! Why are you running like that?!? It's pouring! –You shout out but the demon only laughs.

-Come on! Live a little! –Mammon kept pulling at your hand and you ran along with him. The rain was falling onto you, making your clothes wet. You look over at Mammon who had the biggest idiotic smile on his face while he was running hand in hand with you during the rain. Suddenly the second-born starter shouting.

-Woohoooo! This is awesomeeeee, come on, human! –You laughed and ran along with him. The street was quiet and the only sound surrounding you was the sound of the rain. There was this refreshing smell and humidity. You and Mammon were the only ones outside. Suddenly the demon stopped and pulled you close into a kiss. It was wet and passionate. After you pull away you look at his wet hair and reach up to ruffle it.

-Come on, babe! Let's go home. –The second-born pulls you again and you run home.

Leviathan

Levi had brought you to wait in line with him at an anime shop. There was a new anime figurine he wanted to get and the third-born was really excited. He was telling you all about it and its story when suddenly it started raining. It was a good thing that You and Levi were under a sheltered space so you wouldn't get wet. But the thing was he had finished his story about the figurine. So there you were. Standing in queue at an anime shop with the Avatar of Envy in complete silence while it was raining. You looked away from the demon at the rain when you heard him speak up.

-I brought my wired headphones.. so.. do you.. perhaps.. want to.. uhm.. listen to music with me? –Levi murmurs and you look towards him with a gentle smile at your face.

-I would love to! –You exclaim and watch a soft blush cover the third-born's cheeks. He pulls out his headphones, plugs them into his phone and hands one to you. You put it in your ear as Levi chooses the music. You begin listening to the song. It was one of Levi's favourites.

-Do you like it? –The demon speaks up and you nod.

-Yeah. I do. It's nice. –You smile and get closer to the third-born. He hesitantly wraps and arm around you and pulls you close. You look over at him and chuckle at the heavy redness on his cheeks. You pull him face towards yours and gently press your lips against kiss. He kissed you back! Though the movement of his lips couldn't match yours it felt nice. After you pulled away Levi pulled you into a hug. The music was bursting in your ears as you were standing in Leviathan's embrace. It wasn't long before you finally entered the shop but the intimate moment was worth it.

Satan

It was a rainy day outside. You were sitting in your room, scrolling through Devilgram. The day was boring. There was nothing interesting happening today and to your surprise the brothers weren't up to anything questionable today. Each of them was doing their own thing. All of a sudden you hear a knock on the door.

-MC? May I come in? –It was Satan. You smiled at the thought of having some company and you would be crazy not to accept him so you answered.

-Sure! Come in. –To your words you heard the door open and you saw the fourth-born enter with two cups of hot cocoa and a book in hand. You looked at him with questioning look.

-What have you got planned, Satan? –You ask and look into Satan's eyes and he winks.

-I figured your day would be boring so I decided to be your saviour. What do you say to a cup of hot cocoa and a book while listening to the sound of the rain? –The demon asks and you nod.

-It sounds lovely. –Satan chuckles to your answer and sits next to you, handing you one of the cups. It warms you hands and you smile as you see the little marshmallows floating into the brown liquid.

Satan grasps your chin and turns your head towards him. He places a soft kiss to your lips and you smile. Soon enough it ends and the fourth-born gazes into your eyes.

-Let me read to you. –Satan whispers and opens the book. You cuddle next to him on the bed and listen to his voice as if you were listening to an angel saying its blessing. You and Satan spend a quiet and peaceful afternoon.

Asmodeus

You and Asmo were on your way to Majolish. He said that the brand has a new collection so he just HAD to check it out. He brought you along with him since you had free time and you did say that you had interest in the new collection. Suddenly though on your way to the shop it started raining. It was soft at first but it began pouring down not long after. The fifth-born panicked and covered his face with his hands.

-Asmo? Is everything okay? –You ask in concern as you look at the panicked demon before you.

–No! Nothing's okay! I did my makeup so flawlessly this morning now this stupid rain is going to ruin it. Awhhhhhh. –Asmodeus whines and you look at his mascara pour down from his lashes. The demon sobs and tries to brush away the mascara but is unsuccessful.

Hey! Everything is okay! –You rush over to him and pull him into your embrace. He throws his arms at you and sobs at your shoulder.

-Why did it have to begin rainingggg! It's ruining everything! And my hair AND my make up! –He whines once again but you get a sudden idea. You pull away from him and cup his face with your palms. You lean in and press your lips to his. The demon stops sobbing and kisses you back passionately. Soon enough you pull away and the look on Asmodeus' face has completely changed. Now it's not a bothered and upset look, instead it's a lustful one filled with desire.

-Oh MC.. you always know how to calm me down. But it would be absolutely unthinkable to show up looking like that at Majolish. Let's go tomorrow. –The fifth-born says and pulls you along as you walk back in the rain. You go home and take a warm bath together.

Beelzebub

You and Beel had gone out for an ice cream. You waited long in the ice cream shop so they could bring a few dozens of each ice cream flavour for Beel and when they finally did you walked out of the building. You had no idea how the sixth-born was even carrying all of those cones of ice cream but he was so you just accept the absolutely mind-blowing sight. Suddenly though it started raining. Beel looked up at the sky, confused. Neither of you knew that it was going to rain today. Or... Well neither of you had checked the weather forecast. So there you were. With the ice cream under tha rain. You look around and notice a tiny sheltered space so you pull on Beelzebub's sleeve to get him to stay under the shelter. He looked at you with confusion in his eyes but you smiled at him ever so gently.

-We can stay underneath the roof until the rain stops and we finish our ice cream. –You state and look over at the demon with a loving gaze. He returns the look and smiles.

-Thank you, MC. I wouldn't want my ice cream to melt under the rain... –He shrugs and glances down at his ice cream. He begins eating it.. no.. devouring at as you eat yours without any pressure. By the time you finish your own you notice that Beel is licking his fingers. How in the three worlds did he manage to eat all that ice cream at the same time as your cone? This demon never ceases to surprise you with his eating.. or better said devouring abilities. All of a sudden you notice some ice cream on his lips and chuckle. The demon looks at you in confusion.

-MC? What are you laughing at? Is there something on my face? –He asks and you shake your head.

-Stay still.. I'll get it for you.. –With those words you lean in and kiss his lips, getting the ice cream with it. Afterwards the demon looks at you with the most innocent smile on his face.

-Thank you, MC.. for both.. for the kiss and for getting the ice cream away.. –Beel murmurs and you notice a tiny blush at his cheeks. You spend the next few minutes like that. Silently looking into each other's eyes. When the rain stops you walk back home, hand in hand.

Belphegor

You and Belphie were sitting on a beach at the park. Well... You were sitting.. The youngest was laying his head on your lap and was napping ever so peacefully. You smiled down at him as you patted his head and dragged your fingers to his dark blue-hair. It was almost like the demon was purring in contentment in his sleep. Suddenly you see a droplet fall on his forehead as the demon tenses up before falling back into peaceful sleep. You while the droplet away but you see another one. Soon enough you feel one on your hand so you look up at the sky to see the rain pouring down. You caress Belphegor's cheek in an attempt to wake him up but you are unsuccessful so you decide to pinch his cheek instead. When you do the demon stirs up in his sleep and softly wakes up.

-Hm? MC? What's up..? –He asks in a groggy voice.

-It's raining! Come on! Let's get going before we get wet! –You try to push him off of your lap but he groans.

-Five more minuteeeessss. –He whines but when he feels the rain on himself his eyes pop open. He immediately stands up and grasps your hand.

-Come on! Let's go! –You nod and the two of you walk as fast to the nearest shelter. Both of you lean against the wall and pant as he looks your way.

-The rain is too bad.. We'd be dripping wet when we make it home. It would be better to just wait for it to stop.. –He says and looks at you before turning his gaze to the rain. You sigh and walk up to him and snuggle up close.

-I'm cold.. –You whisper to which Belphegor wraps his arms around you tightly.

-Here.. Let me warm you up. –He leans down towards you and presses a soft kiss to your lips. When he pulls away he speaks in a gentle tone.

-Better?

-Definitely. –You remain in the youngest brother's embrace as you wait for the rain to stop.

[moralesluvr]

I know this is kinda weird to request, but can I get hobie with a gf who’s insecure of her small tits? She’s insecure because boys would make fun of her for her small chest all through out middle and high school that’s why she never lets hobie lay on her chest.

perfect body, perfect heart ft. hobie brown

♡ pairings & aus: hobie brown x smallerchested!fem!black!reader ♡ summary: hobie comforts you after he finds out why you don't like for him to lay on your chest ♡ warnings: insecurity, hobie being the sweetest brit boyfriend ever ♡ a/n: thank you for your request! and tumblr deleted this the first time so i had to rewrite it, sorry this took so long! *nawt proofread like at all* ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡

HOBIE WAS A SUCKER for your body in general. Your thighs, your arms-- whatever it was, he appreciated every inch of you. When you guys cuddled, he loved to rest his head on you if he wasn't being the bigger spoon. Usually, he would opt to lay on your bum or your thighs while he scrolled through his phone, or even took a nap.

In this particular moment, you were laying on your back atop your bed as you scrolled mindlessly on Instagram. You heard two knocks sound from your doorframe and you looked up to see your boyfriend smiling at you. He was shirtless, his hair in a high bun, "G'na take some cuddles from 'ya."

Hobie giggled and so did you as he made his way over to you. You tried to flip over to your stomach, but his hand grabbed your shoulder as he looked at over at you, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You give him a superficial smile, “You still wanna cuddle?”

Hobie shakes his head, “Mm, I think I’ma take a nap. I’m absolutely knackered.”

He starts to lay on top of your chest, but you quickly flipped over to where you were laying on your chest, phone in hand. You watch out of the corner of your eye as Hobie lays down beside you, looking up at you. “Do you not wanna take a kip with me? Why’re you bein’ shy, love?”

“Why don’t you just lay on my thighs or something?” You questioned him, “Why do you wanna lay on my chest so bad?”

Hobie shrugs, “I dunno, ‘s comfy. Why wouldn’t I wanna lay on your-“

“Because there’s nothing to lay on.” You cut him off, burrowing your face into one of your decorative pillows. Muffled, you sigh frustratingly, “I’m flatter than a board, Bee. I don’t even see how you’re still attracted to me.”

Your boyfriend is silent for a moment. At first, you think it’s because you either said something wrong or he’s trying to break the news to you that he doesn’t like you.

But of course, that isn’t the case at all. He inches closer to you, snaking on top of you and flipping you over so that your back is pressed up against your blankets, his chin resting on your stomach.

“My love,” He starts, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, “I like your boobs. I always have.”

You chuckle at the way he says ‘boobs’, but Hobie’s just about as serious as you could imagine. You feel his cold hands sneak onto your waist, and then under your shirt where he’s cupping your cleavage. “‘M not kiddin’, doll. I love layin’ on you and napping with you, and I wouldn’t trade your boobies for the world.”

“Stop sayin’ boobies like that.” You laugh and sniffle when Hobie realizes that there are tears in your eyes. He frowns, “Why the tears, sweetheart?”

“I just love you.” You remarked, “In middle and high school I always got bullied for how small chested I was, so I felt like you wouldn’t like it, either.”

Hobie scoffed as he laid his head down on your chest completely, “Your chest? Not like? Absolutely not— if I could, I’d stay right here forever.”

You smile at him as he gives your chest a slight massage. He sighs into you,

“Now, if you’ll excuse me…I think I’m gonna take a nap.”

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996 //@sukunas-slutty-bitch // @c3f21

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 0

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there. Some dialogue's taken directly from the English version's prologue.

This world, it’s full of despair.

It comes in different forms, both big and small.

Even so, it wears down on the mind all the same, and can even take lives.

(I’ve been searching for a way to fight against it)

--

Ellis: Thanks for queueing with me, Roger.

This morning, Ellis had asked me out of the blue to go with with him to a cafe that looked like something out of a picture book as a “favor”.

In a space that was full of women, Ellis and I drew curious glances.

Roger: So, what the hell is that “thing” making people queue up so early in the morning?

The cafe recently went through some renovations and the first 30 customers would get some kind of gift.

Ellis: A tin of biscuits. It’s something Harry wanted but since he’s on a mission, I came in his place.

Roger: Haha, so that’s it. Then I’ll give him my share too ‘cause having two will make him “happier” than having one.

The man sitting in front of me’s been busy making people happy today.

Ellis: By the way, I had some business at the pub yesterday and a woman asked me where Roger was. I gave her some excuse because I know you don’t like dealing with that kind of trouble.

I’m someone that doesn’t believe in romantic love.

It’s something that’s not scientifically proven. If “romantic love” does exist in this world, then…

(It’s a dysfunction of the brain or a misunderstanding caused by sexual desire)

Seems like Ellis knew me well.

Roger: You’re too good for Jude, you know. I’ll buy you drinks as thanks.

Ellis: Yippee. Ah, I think I’ll get something for Jude. I’m going to take a look around, okay?

Roger: Do what you want. Pick what would make Jude “happy”. 

As I watched Ellis make his way into the store with nimble steps—

(...Hm?)

I heard a voice cutting into this peaceful morning coming from the flower shop across the street

Flower shop owner: The delivery was delayed due to construction? Ha, how typical for a female postal workers.

I couldn’t see the face of the postwoman that was getting yelled at from here.

However, with my ears that let me pick up sounds 100 yards away, I could hear her heartbeat.

It was unsteady, probably because she was scared.

(“How typical for a female.” …What a bastard)

(If it escalates, I’ll step in—)

In the moment, her dignified voice rang out.

Kate: My sincerest apologies! I will be more careful in the future. For now, will you please accept this?

The man who was yelling is taken aback, likely feeling guilty after her apology.

Flower shop owner: Y-yeah… As long as you understand. Just be careful from now on.

I heard her let out a deep breath.

(So that postwoman’s someone that tries to be strong… Not bad)

Ellis: I’m back, Roger….Is something wrong?

Roger: No? Wow, you bought a lot?

Ellis: I wanted to get something for everyone. I’ll ask Victor to make tea and we can all have them together. Oh yeah, speaking of Victor…He said he has a mission for all of Crown.

Roger: Oh? Having us all together’s pretty rare. Could be an annoying one so let’s try not to get hurt.

--

Having said that, it ended without a single injury or incident.

—At least it was supposed to until an uninvited guest wandered in.

The woman standing there covered in blood, looking pale, was neither cursed nor a target. Just unlucky.

Jude: Tch…That’s why I toldja to lock the damn door!

Roger: Haha, well I didn’t think we’d have a trespasser! She’s a naughty lil’ thing, isn’t she?

My ears picked up an irregular heartbeat.

(...This sound. …No way)

—But that hunch soon came true.

The lil’ lady called Kate who stumbled upon Crown was presented to the palace’s grim reaper like a main dish.

(Now that she knows some classified info, she can’t leave without consequences)

(Worst case scenario, what waits for her is—)

Then, the lil’ lady in her hopeless situation spoke up with a dignified voice.

Kate: I swear I’ll never tell anyone about anything I just heard!

Victor: Hmm…Hm? What’s this?

Kate: I swear to protect your secret. I-I’m a letter carrier, and we’ve been trained to…maintain strict confidentiality!

Victor and William: …

Kate: If you think you can’t trust me, then go ahead and keep me under watch until you believe you can! I promise I’ll prove it.

A brave and logical proposal.

However, despite her demeanor, her heartbeat continued pounding in my ears.

The sound that didn’t match the attitude—it had me convinced.

(Ah…so she’s the postwoman from that time)

Her loud heartbeat gave away her true feelings.

(“Please don’t kill me”)

Among the anxiety was the strong desire to live and fight against despair.

(...Nice. This lil’ lady could be interesting)

I didn’t feel any sort of love or affection, but I felt this strange exhilaration in my heart.

So I thought—It'd be a shame to kill her.

(Come to think of it, at that time…)

I did “hear” her footsteps and heartbeat when she wandered in.

I could’ve made her avoid Crown.

(But I didn’t)

(Deep down, I was waiting for “something”...which is probably why I invited this heartbeat in)

I could imagine how angry this lil’ lady would be if she knew…

Victor: Well, well, what a good idea! I think we can actually make use of you. Accepted!

Kate: …Really?

Victor: Let’s see…All right, from today forward, you shall be Crown’s own personal…Fairytale Keeper!

Under the command of Victor, the Queen’s aide who controls Crown, enigmatic position of “Fairytale Keeper” was filled by Kate, saving her life.

Roger: Let’s try to get along this month, yeah?

Kate: Of course, Roger.

--

Ellis: Hey, Roger. Earlier, why did you look like you were having fun?

Roger: Earlier?

Ellis: When we were discussing whether or not to kill Kate.

(...This guy can really read people)

Roger: Well…I guess it’s ‘cause it’s been a while since I saw something interesting.

Ellis: Hehe, I see. Then… Would Kate being here overthrow your theory…and make you happier?

Basically he was asking if I’d fall in love with Kate and be happy.

Roger: Ellis, you’re aware of my curse…right?

Ellis: The double-crossing hunter from Snow White.

Roger: Right…The queen had ordered the hunter to bring her the heart of the detestable Snow White. But the hunter betrayed the queen by letting the girl go in the forest and instead, brought the queen a heart of an animal. After that, Snow White met a prince after her life was saved…And now here’s a question. Why do you think Snow White chose the prince instead of the hunter who saved her life?

Ellis: Huh?...I don’t know.

Roger: Because that’s just how it’s supposed to be. Because there’s supposed to be a happy ending.

Not to mention the fact that this is reality, not a fairy tale.

A man who doesn’t believe in love and a little robin who’ll leave after the month’s up—the relationship won’t develop into love or affection.

(...That’s what I think)

(But then why does my heart beat weirdly when I look at the lil’ lady?)

[imfinereallyy]

I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind) pt. 3

a nice long update for ya ♡ part 1 part 2

cw: internalized homophobia and projecting internalized homophobia (from an oc)

🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

June 1996, Chicago

Steve's first steps into his living room are not met with silence and sunshine; in fact, he is met with two surprises.

The first being Eddie Munson still in his apartment.

Steve rubs the tired out of his eyes, squishing his palm into his lids in hopes of shaking out a morning delusion. He is proven unsuccessful..

His second surprise is that Eddie is awake, staring at Steve in high alert, blankets folded neatly (he must have scrounged around for them in the night, not that Steve minds), sitting patiently as if he has been waiting for hours for Steve's arrival.

If the second surprise hadn't happened, Steve might have excused the first. See, Eddie, in all the years he had known him, had been anything but an early riser, usually choosing to sleep the day away. So if he had been asleep still, Steve might have let him being in his apartment slide.

Steve ponders how he doesn't really know Eddie anymore, so he shouldn't actually be surprised.

Eddie clears his throat, "So, how about that talk?"

Steve has to resist shutting his eyes to relish in the sound of Eddie's deep timbre. His voice has grown scratchy over the years—from singing or cigarettes, Steve can't be sure. It feels like coming home, either way, to have his voice brush over him.

Instead, Steve clears his throat back. "Don't have time; maybe try again in another five years." He moves to the kitchen to start making their morning drinks—hot coffee with cream for Robin and an iced dirty chai for Steve.

When Dustin had been working at a cafe back when he was in college, he made Steve try all of their new drinks. Surprisingly his favorite became a dirty chai—something which Robin finds hilarious.

Steve grabs the chipped green mug from the cabinet and begins pouring Robin's coffee. It had already been hot and ready in the pot, which probably meant Eddie had prepped it for him. Steve doesn't comment.

Eddie huffs through his nose, "C'mon Stevi—Steve. It's ten in the morning on a Saturday. You can't tell me you're busy right now."

Steve has to resist slamming Robin's mug down on the counter, already having being put together after the 1994 incident, he doesn't want to face her wrath.

Gently placing it on the counter, Steve turns. "Actually, I have somewhere to be at twelve, not that you need to know that. And don't act like you know what's going on in my life, Munson."

Eddie smiles, a little laugh escapes him. God, it is like a fucking drug after years of being sober that laugh. Steve wants to beg him for another hit, even though he knows it's bad for him.

With the smile never leaving his face, Eddie raises his hands. "Okay, okay. You're right."

"Why are you smiling? This isn't funny." Steve huffs.

Eddie's face softens, "Sorry, just even though you're mad at me. You're talking to me, and shit, sweetheart. I would take that over silence any day. It's nice to hear your voice."

Steve has to force himself to keep his shoulders tense, wanting to sag into Eddie. He's still mad at him, furious even. But some part of him agrees deep down, this is nice.

He can never let Eddie know that.

"Fuck off, Munson. I have shit to do. I'm sure you're too busy anyway."

Eddie shakes his head, hair falling in front of his face. "No, trust me I have nothing else going on. The band is on hiatus. And even if we weren't, trust me when I say this is exactly where I am supposed to be right now."

Steve can't help the snort that comes out of him, "Funny you're asking me to trust you, asshole. That went out the door with your bags five years ago."

Eddie flinches back, "Okay, I deserve that one."

Steve doesn't mention to Eddie how he knows his band has been on hiatus for over a year now. How he's kept up on the band, even after Eddie left. How he is curious why they went on hiatus at all, they have two successful albums, and supposedly were working on their third, when suddenly they all decided it was time for a break.

Peak of their career, and they chose silence. Normally, a horrible career move, but it seems it makes the rock community want them even more.

Steve can understand that partially. When it comes to Eddie, you can't help but want more, even when he disappears without a trace.

"I got to go get ready. Seriously, Munson. I know you think I don't mean it when I say leave. I think you're stuck on the Steve from five years ago, and how the Steve from then wouldn't really mean it. But this is the Steve now. And Steve from now means it when he says, get the fuck out. Go find someone else who could actually use your presence, like Dustin. God knows the kid deserves a phone call."

Eddie opens his mouth to protest, but doesn't get to chance to say his peace, Steve's already on his way back to his bedroom with their drinks in hand.

🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

Steve is running late.

It's not his fault, he has a fucking ghost haunting his living room, and it takes him ten times longer to work around it. Robin tells him to cancel his lunch, but Steve doesn't, even though she's right.

Robin's always right.

Steve can't help but feel a little smug when thinking back to leaving his apartment, though. He looks good, wearing his nicest Levi's and soft white button-up. Steve had made sure to keep the top few buttons undone, showing off his gold necklaces that landed perfectly on his exposed chest hair.

For Drew, of course, not for Eddie.

Still, Steve knows he looks good. So when he leaves his apartment and Eddie doesn't even bother to try to talk to him again because he is just too busy staring at Steve.

Steve makes it to the restaurant only five minutes late. It would have been on time if it had been in his athletic prime.

Resturant, Steve realizes, is a bit of a stretch. It appears to be a cafe--but not one of those cozy ones with crazy colors and a fun name. No, this cafe is incredibly fancy. Everything is so sleek and high up, the name in an Italian word he'll have to asked Robin to translate later.

Steve looks around the cafe in a huff, realizing Drew is nowhere to be found. He is momentarily flooded with relief, knowing he has beaten Drew to the cafe.

Steve finds a table in a corner and waits. His brief relief is quickly swept away into annoyance as he sits there for minutes with no signs of Drew.

It takes another thirty minutes, before Drew is finally at the cafe.

"Sorry, I'm late, baby." He says breath even. Steve knows he was in no rush to be here on time. He doesn't move to kiss Steve, not on the cheek and certainly not on the mouth. Drew isn't one for PDA, or so he says. Instead, he smooths down his dark blue Armani suit and sits across from Steve.

"You know, you could give me a kiss. I haven't seen you in a week." Steve decides to move past his being late; there is no point in arguing. If it had been him, Steve is sure he would never hear the end of it.

"Sweetheart..." Drew whispers and brushes his hand against Steve's knee. Steve's lip twitches; he doesn't like it when Drew calls him that. "You know it isn't safe to do that."

Steve wants to throw Drew's hand off of him, but he doesn't. It's always like this between them, Steve wants more, and Drew pulls back. It's beginning to feel tiresome, this game between them. They have been dating for a year and have made no progress in public. Steve's lucky Robin gets to know, seeing as basically no one else in either of their lives knows about each other. For Steve, everyone knows of Drew but not his name. For Drew, Steve is almost sure no one even knows he's gay.

Steve wants to hit himself for the thought. It's unfair of him to put these expectations on Drew, everyone comes out at their own pace. He would be a hypocrite if he pushed him; it had taken him nineteen years to figure out he was bisexual. Took Eddie leaving for him to come out to anyone other than Robin.

It feels different somehow with Drew, though. Like this isn't him scared to come out, but more like Drew doesn't actually see a future with Steve. It had taken them six months to even label themselves as boyfriends, moving from late-night booty calls to watching a movie together in Steve's living room in the middle of a Tuesday.

Steve rubs his temples instead of smacking Drew's hand away. Steve feels tired of this cycle. He knows this is the best he's going to get when it comes to dating. With women, they often want him to admit that he was experimenting, wanting to shun parts of himself away. That or they are convinced he's gay. Well, he is, but it's more than that, and they don't seem to get it.

With men, it's the opposite problem. Either they need him to admit being bisexual is just something he used to make himself feel better, or they are only looking for a quick hookup.

Hookups are nice, but approaching thirty, Steve wants something real and is perhaps sick of finding out the man he brings home from the bar is married.

He knows this is the best he's going to get.

"Maybe if we met a cafe in my neighborhood, we could be a bit more affectionate. The one down the block has a rainbow flag and everything."

Drew scrunches his nose, "Why do that when we can get nice coffee like this?"

Steve doesn't point out that neither Drew nor himself has ordered coffee. Steve can't afford the coffee here, and Drew was late. "I think that's your way of saying where I live isn't nice."

Drew grabs his hand under the table, "No, babe, I don't want to fight today. I've missed you."

Steve feels bad; he has missed Drew. Despite their ups and downs (and Robin's grumbles), Steve does care for him. "You're right, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Besides, I did want to have lunch for a reason." Drew smiles brightly. Steve can't help but stare for a minute. It's no surprise what hooked Steve the first moment they met at the club. He is a classic kind of handsome. Wavy brown hair cut to look proper, a shiny white smile, piercing blue eyes. Nothing about him is soft, he is full of sharpness that takes you from across the room.

He's the kind of guy Steve's parents would have loved if they were okay with Drew being a guy—if Steve was even talking to them at all.

"Oh yes, you've got me on the edge of my seat." Steve jokes.

Drew gives him a charming smile, "There's my funny guy."

Steve rolls his eyes.

"So I have a big question for you..."

Steve freezes up; oh no. Here it comes. The talk, the let's move into together speech. One he'll have to turn down. No one ever gets it. How he can't live without Robin. Literally and physically.

"....so Greg says there's an opening and I think you'd be a great fit."

Steve shakes himself out of his thoughts, "What?"

Drew levels him with a look. "A job? For you?"

Oh. "I already have a job."

It's Drew's turn to roll his eyes, "C'mon, Steve. A high school guidance counselor? You could do so much more."

"I like my job, Drew. We've been through this. Besides, you barely want to be seen together, and now you want to work together? I have no interest in working at a law firm."

Drew pinches his nose, "Just...just think about it, okay? I want to see more of you in any way I can."

Steve doesn't want to fight. The fight left him a long time ago. "Okay."

He doesn't mean it.

🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

aaah im loving where this is going, also I swear it gets better soon and this has a happy ending!! also thanks for the love and support. This will probably be the last part where I will take tag requests for the series so please ask now, cause its getting too long. But parts will always be updated on the previous posts and my page!!

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[softguarnere]

Memories Feel Like Weapons

Edmund Pevensie x gn!reader

Summary: “People can be different. They can change. You’ve changed.” Gently, you use your pointer finger to hook his chin and turn his face towards you, making him look you in the eye. “You’re a good king, Edmund, and an even better man. A good brother. A good boyfriend. Everyone has forgiven you for what you did as a child.” A/N: What's up, y'all?! It's been freezing these past few days and I hate it! 🥴 So this is for all you other lovelies who are currently being plagued by SAD 🫶🏽 Also, in case it's not clear in the fic, for the purposes of the story, we're just gonna assume that reader's parents also sent them off to the country during the war to stay with the professor, that they met the Pevensie's there, and went to Narnia with them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! ❤️ Warnings: Edmund has SAD but it's Narnia so it's never actually called that, the author is (once again) overusing commas

As interesting and as magical a place as Narnia is, you’re willing to admit that diplomatic negotiations are something that usually bore you to tears.

You try to take an interest, you really do, for Edmund’s sake. Political wheeling and dealing is his bread and butter. You’re not particularly adept at it yourself. Edmund has tried to explain the finer points to you many times, but it’s not something that you can wrap your head around. But maybe that’s just because you get too distracted thinking about how good looking your tutor is. Sometimes you raise a question or a particular point that you know he’ll jump to answer just to see how passionately he talks about his favorite subject. As far as you know, he hasn’t caught on yet.

Today proves to be different, though.

A chill in the air greets you when you awake. A crackling sound from the corner tells you that a servant has crept in at some point and started a fire in the hearth to stave off the cold. Blinking to adjust your eyes to the light, you’re greeted by the type of cold, white sunlight that announces a wintery morning and the season’s signature magical touch that often appears overnight – snow.

You leap out of bed, gasping when your feet kiss the cold floor. Hurrying to put on slippers, you wrap yourself in a fluffy robe and hurry to the door.

Edmund hates the winter. He hates the snow even more. No one can blame him for that. But you’re the only person he’s confessed this to.

Sure, his siblings might suspect as much. Those first few years in Narnia, no one dared suggest that they play in the snow whenever it arrived, for fear of what it might imply, and for fear of inadvertently upsetting the youngest Pevensie brother. After a few more years, he would find excuses to be tucked away in his library on snowy days, and no one would breathe a word of the fun they had without him while he was around. A delicate subject and a fine dance around it, to say the least.

It was only last winter that Edmund confided in you, and only because you had recently become a couple. He said the winter was hard enough on its own, but the snow brought back too many bad memories, ushered in nightmares so vivid that he sometimes woke up questioning what was real and what wasn’t.

This is going to be a rough day for him, to say the least. Which puts a damper on the mood, since ambassadors from a nearby kingdom are arriving to negotiate trade – something he was so looking forward to.

“Edmund?” Your voice seems too loud for the quiet library, and the echo makes you flinch slightly at the loudness of your own voice, at the desperate quality it holds.

Stepping further inside the room, you listen, and tune into the crackling of the fireplace along the far wall. You follow it until you can see the chairs in front of it, and in one of them, Edmund, slumped over a large tome, asleep.

He’ll have a crick in his neck from sleeping that way, you think. If you hadn’t known why he was here, finding him in his favorite place like this would be sweet. It still tugs on your heartstrings, yes, but in a different, heavier way.

“Edmund?” You gently shake his shoulder before stepping back.

The Just King startles awake, his book slipping out of his lap. His eyes are wide and wild as they flick across the room, struggling to make sense of his surroundings. Finally, they land on you and soften. “(Y/N)?”

“Good morning, sleepy head,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light, casual. “If you say that your neck doesn't hurt after sleeping like that, then you’re a liar.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The painful popping noises that echo from his spine say otherwise, but you let it go. Slowly, he rises, stretches, and then takes a step closer to you and plants a kiss on your forehead. He sighs through his nose. “Today is the day.”

You slip your hand into his, intwine your fingers. “How are you feeling?”

Edmund shrugs. His relationship with his siblings has improved leaps and bounds in all the years that they’ve spent in Narnia, but sometimes he still hesitates to show certain emotions around them, to express himself the way he should. Sometimes it’s easier when it’s just the two of you in a space like this where he’s comfortable.

“I’ll manage.”

“If you’re not feeling up to it – “

He squeezes your hand. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a day that I have to get through.”

“Spring will come again,” you assure him, using the mantra that you often whispered to comfort him through last year’s winter season.

“And we will greet it with open arms and grateful hearts,” he finishes. He attempts a smile, but it looks more strained than usual. “Don’t worry, darling. Everything will be fine.”

. . .

It is almost immediately not fine.

The ambassadors arrive in all their splendor. Fine fabrics and shimmering jewels assure that no one can take their eyes off them as they enter the hall and approach the five thrones. They bow to Peter in the center, to Susan and Lucy on his left, then to you and Edmund on his right. Servants carry golden trunks behind them. They have come to these diplomatic negotiations bearing gifts in the most literal sense.

Though you will all retire to a separate chamber for the actual negotiations, the gift giving is a public affair for the whole court to witness. And because it’s so formal, it’s rather slow.

Strong weapons forged of foreign metals are gifted, followed by clothes of their country’s latest fashions, and small samplings of food for each of you, a different dish for you each to try based on what the ambassadors have heard about you.

Thank goodness you’re a good actress, because the ambassadors seem to think that you really do seem excited to try the food in the bejeweled silver container that they gift to you. In reality, you’re trying your hardest not to grimace at the unfamiliar looking treats inside of it, and trying hard not to become preoccupied wondering if the taste will be as . . . unique as the smell that emits from them.

“And finally, for King Edmund,” one of the ambassadors says with a bow before presenting a silver container to Edmund with a flourish. “I have heard a rumor that you are quite fond of these.”

Thankful for a distraction from the gift in your own hands, you turn your attention to Edmund. Sitting beside him, you are in full view of the show that his siblings are not. You can see the rosy color, the powdered sugar. The Just King’s smile immediately falters. Strong hands clamp the container shut before anyone else has the chance to see what’s inside – Turkish Delight.

For a moment there is nothing but silence, the labored sound of Edmund drawing a breath. It goes on just long enough that his siblings glance at him. Only then does Edmund seem capable of forcing himself to smile, to nod, to thank the ambassador for such a thoughtful gift. If his siblings sense that something might be wrong, they don’t even know the half of it.

Because what has just happened, really? Is this a slight on behalf of the other country’s rulers? Or do they genuinely have no clue the implications of their actions?

As the exchanging of the gifts comes to a close, Edmund coughs into his fist, clears his throat. Does it again. He thumps the flat of his palm against his chest.

Peter turns to him. “Are you alright?”

“I think I just require a bit of fresh air, if you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Edmund replies. He says it far too quickly, and he uses the excuse to dismiss himself from the hall. The silver container that holds the Turkish Delight has been abandoned, left behind on his throne.

It takes everything in you not to race after him, to follow him, to make sure that he’s okay. Instead, you’re stuck helplessly glancing between the doorway that he’s disappeared through and the ambassadors who won’t seem to shut up.

Finally, the niceties end. The other king and queens of Narnia begin to migrate into a separate chamber with the ambassadors to begin the negotiations.

Quickly, quietly, you catch Lucy by the sleeve of her dress and lean in close to her ear. “I’ve got to go find Edmund,” you whisper. “I’m worried about him.”

Lucy’s eyes go wide, but she holds her composure under the watchful eyes of the court and the visiting representatives. “I’ll cover for you,” she whispers back.

As one of the five Narnian monarchs, you don’t technically need anyone’s permission to leave – except maybe Peter’s, since he’s the High King. Still, you’re the only one who’s not a Pevensie sibling, which can sometimes be a little isolating. Knowing that Lucy has your back boosts your confidence as you slip away, heading for the nearest place that you think Edmund might have disappeared to.

A quick search reveals that he’s not in the library. Or the armory, or any of his usual haunts. As a last resort, you duck into his bedroom, and it’s there that you find him, standing before the hearth, staring into the flames. His hand holds the place on his side where the White Witch stabbed him on the battlefield, though the gesture seems absentminded.

“Ed?” You make your voice soft so as not to startle him.

He looks up, eyes wide, surprised anyway – and hurt.

You don’t waste time asking if he’s okay. Instead, you cross the room to meet him in front of the fire. “Oh, Edmund.”

He doesn’t bother lying and saying that he’s fine. That’s how you know it’s bad. When Edmund Pevensie goes quiet, retreats within himself, it means that he’s truly wounded. This is something deep inside of him that aches, that rots.

Not knowing what to do, you take a seat on the rug in front of the hearth. You’re careful not to touch him, trying to offer him the space if he needs it. But he follows your lead and takes a seat, too, which seems like a good sign.

For a while, neither of you speaks. You just sit near each other, staring into the fire. Edmund looks very numb when he finally says, “I didn’t mean to leave like that. I just . . . panicked.”

“No one blames you.”

“Seeing that stupid Turkish Delight – “ He shudders. “I can’t figure out if it was a poor choice given with good intentions, or if it was a slight on my honor, a reminder of what I did.” He frowns. “I suppose to some people I’ll never be Edmund the Just – I’ll only ever be just Edmund, The Traitor.”

“No,” you protest. Space be damned; you grab his hand in yours and squeeze it, like that gesture can also grab his attention, infuse the meaning of what you’re about to say to him so that he cannot ignore it. “Edmund, you’ve changed. You’re not a traitor.”

“Anymore.”

“People forget that I was there, too,” you remind him. “I tried to follow you to Jadis’ castle.”

“That was different. You were trying to stop me from betraying my family.” His brow furrows at the memory. “So I shoved you into a snowbank and ran off without you. And then you went back to Beaver’s the help the others. (Y/N) the Loyal,” he employs the epithet that Aslan gave you, but you can’t be sure why. Because of what you did then? Because you’re here with him now?

“People can be different. They can change. You’ve changed.” Gently, you use your pointer finger to hook his chin and turn his face towards you, making him look you in the eye. “You’re a good king, Edmund, and an even better man. A good brother. A good boyfriend. Everyone has forgiven you for what you did as a child.”

Edmund shakes his head. “But they haven’t forgotten. And I can’t, either, if I’m being honest.” He doesn’t meet your eye when he confesses, “It haunts me, the memories. Every winter.”

“No. But you can do something else.” You pause to make sure that you have his full attention when you make your suggestion. “You can forgive yourself.”

Edmund blinks. As smart as he is, it seems like the thought has never occurred to him before now.

“It doesn’t have to be now,” you assure him. “It’s not an instantaneous thing. Just . . . something to work on. A project. An ongoing one.”

Silence falls between you again as he turns back to the fire. It takes a few moments before he nods, the light shining off his dark hair and his crown.

“I’ll work on it,” he says, resolved. He turns back to you, and when he speaks again, his voice is so unsure, so timid, that you have the sudden urge to hold onto him with one arm and use your other to draw your sword and fend off anything or anyone in the world who might come near and cause him harm. “Can you help me do it?”

You nod. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” he clears his throat, shakes his head. “I’m going to need more than my own forgiveness for being late to these negotiations.” He makes no move to get up. His gaze wanders across the room, as if seeing it for the first time, before landing on the window and studying the portal to the frozen, white world beyond it.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t feel up to it.” Then, trying to lighten the mood, you bump your shoulder against his. “I’m sure Susan and Lucy ganging up on the ambassadors will give them a run for their money.”

Edmund chuckles, settles back on the rug. “Good, because I honestly don’t think I can look into the eye of a person who tried to give me Turkish Delight without hitting him over the head with my sword.”

Even though you’re in a relationship, it’s maybe the most vulnerable that Edmund has ever been with you. He places his head in your lap and stares into the hearth as you card your hands through his dark locks.

“Spring is coming soon,” he mutters, his voice heavy with the sleep that’s trying to catch up with him. “Maybe then I can start over . . . Would be nice to not have to worry about freaking out over a bad gift and embarrassing myself in front of the whole court.”

“Spring will come again,” you remind him, voice soft in case he’s already dropped off to sleep. “And we will greet it with open arms and grateful hearts.” Then, for good measure, you add a new line to aid you through your latest challenge. “And it will allow us to start over.”

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Twisted Wonderland x Obey Me Crossover

Part Two ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⊱⊰⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯ Part One Part Three

A few reminders: - Yuki is the default name in Obey Me! - NO pairing yet, It will be implied, but not explicitly displayed. - this will be divided into chapters, It will be considered a one-shot/non-series since I'm not doing different Points of view like how I do series. - Updates will be a bit slow - Credits: The line breakers are from Kaomoji dividers and Official Obey Me and Twisted Wonderland art. - Just enjoy! Would love to hear your responses on this fic cause I'm having fun writing it ^^ Masterlist

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⊱⊰⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

You were looking worriedly at Yuki, unsure what to do, but you decided that the others would find out eventually, so you couldn’t keep this to yourself forever.

"Sure, why not?"

What?

You didn’t expect this. Crowley seemed to have taken a liking to Lucifer, who seemed uncomfortable under the headmaster's gaze. "They’re demons, right? It’s rare for them to come out of hiding like this! It’s an opportunity to get to know you, Lucifer," he chirped, almost happy to see the man.

You deflated on the couch. Before all of this happened when you tried to call Crowley, who suspiciously answered your call immediately. He then went to visit to see the seven brothers and Yuki. You were expecting retaliation on his part, but the moment he saw Lucifer, he sighed in relief, muttering about good demons visiting instead of the bad ones. Seriously?

"While I'd love to guide everyone around," he says, striking his usual pose that means he's up to something. "I still have a job to do, so Prefect, you don't mind skipping a few lectures, right?" He smiles mischievously.

"What?!" you gasp, glaring at him. "You're not even going to tell the professors about this!"

"Well, if you think it's necessary, I can always tell them,” He says, looking at you with those infuriating puppy eyes. "Come on, you can't leave them alone, can you?"

"If this would bother the Prefect's studies, I'm fine with roaming around alone," Satan interjects, drawing your attention. "I promise I won't cause any trouble," he continues, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. "Not sure about them, though."

"Way to throw us under the bus, Satan," Leviathan grumbles, busy trying to pet Grim. "I don't want to go out. I'll just stay here."

"We went to all this effort to bring everyone here, and you won't even try to have fun? Come on, Levi!" Asmodeus whines. "This is a whole new world! I doubt there are video games here that you'll like." As if that would convince Levi, especially when they still had network access from the Devildom.

“No, I didn’t even want to come out of my room! Mammon barged in and dragged me out!” Leviathan pointed at Mammon accusingly, who gasped in offense.

“Excuse you! You were the one who kept ranting to Yuki that you needed more grass to touch!”

“IT’S BECAUSE I LOST A GAME!” Leviathan screeched. At that moment, a pair of black wings smacked both Mammon and Leviathan into silence.

“You are both embarrassing Diavolo’s name,” Lucifer growled, clearly pissed at them.

“It’s okay, it’s quite amusing to see that even demons have quarrels” Crowley mused. This somehow pops a vein in Lucifer’s head, “We are still similar to humans” he corrects, this man seems to think they’re more inhumane than other beings.

“I apologize,” he said crossing his arms. “Since you can keep your brothers on a leash, then I think it’s fine for you to roam around, right?” he asks, as Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “It would be nice if we have a guide for it,” he says, looking at you and Yuki. “The only reason we went here was to find Yuki’s friend, now that we found them, we can rest easy and go out”

"The Prefect is too busy to be a guide," Lucifer adds, "We can take care of ourselves"

Yuki cheers, high-fiving Satan who always wanted to learn more about this peculiar world. “Why don’t we split it?” Crowley suggests, and for some reason, it sounded like split custody between the demon brothers.

“You, Lucifer can go around as they please since I trust you for it" Crowley says which immediately gets interrupted by Lucifer “Why do you trust me so casually?” he asks, bewildered by this man.

“No reason, I just think you won’t cause any trouble, unlike your brothers!” he says bluntly, smiling. “Aren’t I gracious?”

Lucifer huffed but didn’t seem to question it further. “Fine. So you’re saying I bring half of my brothers while the other half keeps an eye on them?” he clarified.

“Oh no, not me!” Crowley interjected, his eyes zeroing in on you. The sudden attention made you jolt. “The Prefect has their daily school activities as I mentioned; it would be great if they could introduce your brothers to the students and establish a connection.”

“Excuse m—!” you began, but Crowley cut you off. What the hell, so he was going to put you back to work? This cruel man!

“A connection?” Lucifer was growing more wary. “What for? We won’t be staying here for long,” he said.

“Which is precisely why connecting with other people is a must!” he says. “Since you’re going to stay here temporarily until Yuki’s homesickness subsides, wouldn’t you want to make the most of it?” he adds, prompting Lucifer to think deeply. Barbatos had mentioned that the portal to another world would likely only open once. He had already informed Yuki that they couldn’t force you to come back with them, especially since Yuki is an exchange student and you are not. Your presence in Devildom might cause disruptions without proper discretion.

His eyebrows knitted as he felt the impending onslaught of a migraine. The process of turning you into an exchange student, the protection you’d need, what would happen if one of his brothers or any demon developed feelings for you? Unlike Yuki, you had no magical prowess to protect you from demons who might desire your human soul.

If he allowed this little trip, you wouldn’t need to come back with them, right? While the thought might be cruel, considering you were the only one who could help Yuki feel better again, the burden of keeping you safe was too great to bear.

“So?” Crowley’s voice snapped him out of his trance. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mammon, Leviathan, and Beelzebub will stay with me,” he said, relenting. “Yuki and the Prefect can take Asmodeus, Satan, and Belphegor with them.”

“Wait, I didn’t consent to this!” you protest, feeling overwhelmed at the thought of managing the demon brothers while studying. Yuki, who seems thrilled to be on the same team as you, pulls you into a hug. “Oh, come on! I’m here! If they cause any trouble, I’ll use my pact on them!” they say confidently, making you sigh in reluctant acceptance.

“I apologize for the random team assignments,” Lucifer says, frown deeply etched in his expression. “I doubt I can keep my cool babysitting my brothers for the next few weeks,” he adds. “But if they cause chaos, I’m sure Yuki can properly discipline them,” he continues, hoping to reassure you.

The other brothers grumble, especially those under Lucifer’s watchful eye, but they fall silent under his glare. Some, however, seem pleased. Asmodeus chatters happily about how he’ll grace the students and you with his beauty, while Satan looks satisfied simply because he isn’t paired with Lucifer.

“Excellent! While you’re here, you can use Ramshackle as your sleeping quarters!” Crowley says, clapping his hands together. “I must be off, but you have fun with your friends, Prefect!” With that, he vanishes in a flurry of black feathers, much like Lucifer’s own. You can’t help but feel like they’re somehow related.

The walk to your class was as awkward as you have guessed, other students kept glancing behind you where the three brothers were, while also staring at Yuki.

What exactly is going on? Crewel looks dumbfounded, staring at three new faces. “I was not informed that there are extra pups coming in” He sighs, tapping the board up front. “Care to explain?” he glances at Prefect who just lets out a huge sigh.

In short, you tried to explain it to the best of your abilities, leaving the fact that they’re literal demons. Crewel, who glanced at Asmodeus, who winked at him, causing him to grip on his black whip. “Fine, this will only be temporary, yes?”

“Yes sir” you droop, glancing behind and already seeing Belphegor and Satan sitting while Asmodeus was chatting with some of the students. Out of every brother, that guy seemed to be the one who’s fitting in with the number of students here. You had begged Crowley to have something tailored for them, but Lucifer stopped you and used his magic to replicate the school uniform that Ace and Deuce were wearing, changing the color of the whole attire to Ramshackle's colors.

"So, they're unofficial students who want to see the school for themselves before enrolling?" Crewel's eyes widened. This was new—they usually never did tours for incoming students. He was suspicious. He looked at the faces of each brother before leaning down to your level and whispering, "They don't look like students. More like teachers."

“Hey! I heard that! I’m a student you know! A pretty one” Asmodeus says, flaunting his pearly white smile while Satan on the other hand thinks that’s a compliment “Thank you” he’d say, ignoring Asmodeus. What a peculiar bunch, Crewel did like the aesthetic of Asmodeus, but maybe he’ll have a chat with these new students later, after class. “Alright listen up.”

You noticed that Satan and Asmodeus seemed unusually attentive during class discussion. While it was no surprise to see Satan's curiosity on display, Asmodeus' focused demeanor was out of character. Then you caught a glimpse of what he was doing: sketching Professor Crewel's face in chibi form, adorned with hearts. Hadn't he just met the guy?

Leaning close to Yuki, who seemed engrossed in the as well, you whispered, “Is Asmodeus always like this during class?”

Yuki snapped out of their concentration, glancing discreetly at Asmodeus. The demon caught the look and flashed a flirtatious smile. “Already falling for me, I see? Can't blame you, lovelies.”

“Well,” Yuki stammered, staring dumbfoundedly. “I guess he really finds Professor Crewel good-looking—”

“Pups at the back, what are you whispering about? It better be about the ingredients I’ve been instructing you to use for the lab experiment later,” Professor Crewel barked, slapping his whip against his hand for emphasis.

You felt a wave of embarrassment as Grim sighed loudly. “Talk later… you’re making the professor noisy,” he grumbled, nudging you to focus back on the lesson. Reluctantly, you and Yuki stopped your hushed conversation, turning your attention back to the front of the classroom. Meanwhile, Lucifer was letting his brothers go around the massive campus, while he knows RAD is big on its own, there was a certain charm that this campus had, the mirrors seemed to have sucked them into some kind of place where the aesthetics were vastly different from one another.

At first, he accidentally got them all stuck in some kind of measly display of… hearts? While he found it pleasing, the color red was standing out too much.

“I’m hungry,” Beelzebub frowned, noticing that, for some reason, the students were dying the roses red.

“Oh! Hey!” Ace called out, waving a dried-up red paintbrush as he walked towards them, searching for the Prefect. “Where’s Prefect?”

“After you left, we decided to split up,” Lucifer stated, looking around. “Can you tell me more about this place?” he asked, intrigued by its design. Ace smiled, placing his hands on his hips as he casually explained that they were in Heartslabyul.

“There are way too many normies here,” Leviathan whined. Meanwhile, Mammon seemed quite pleased; this place reeked of GOLD, and there had to be something he could take.

Ignoring Leviathan's complaining, Lucifer listened to Ace's introduction to this dormitory called "Heartslabyul" “I see… so you will be holding an unbirthday party here?” Lucifer inquired. Ace nodded, but before he could explain further, a sudden shrill scream echoed inside the intricate building.

“Hey, stop! Don’t eat that!” a voice rang out as Beelzebub seemed to have attacked the kitchen.

“I told you we shouldn’t have come here!” Leviathan said, bolting inside as Lucifer had already run in. “Beel!” he growled, grabbing the man with sheer strength. Mammon and Leviathan joined in, blocking Beelzebub’s vision of the food.

Only minutes after their arrival Beelzebub already managed to sneak into the kitchen. “I’m hungry let me go!” he says, trying to squirm off the grip, but three demons could subdue him, and long enough, Trey goes to shove a premade cake in Beelzebub’s mouth enough for him to calm down as Beel started munching on it.

The whole kitchen was a mess, as Trey stares at the mess, “Oh dear” he groans out, feeling a headache coming, Lucifer frowns as he glares at Beelzebub. “I apologize for my brother” he adds, bowing to Trey and the other Heartlabyul students helping him. “It’s fine but, I’m not sure how I can fix all of this, almost more than half of the food was devoured, how could you even do such a thing?” Trey's tone held a hint of annoyance, though he glanced sympathetically at the unfamiliar faces and distinctive uniforms of the visitors. "My brothers can assist with cleaning and cooking," Lucifer offered, attempting to defuse the tension. The two brothers exchanged shocked glances, but Mammon quickly crossed his arms in protest. "No way! It's Beel's fault, not mine!" Leviathan chimed in, shaking his head adamantly. "Yeah, count me out. I didn't do anything!"

"You will help," Lucifer said with a smile that sent a shiver down their spines. "It seems you forgot I'm not the only one babysitting you three. You're old enough to be responsible," he added, causing the others to clamp their mouths shut in uneasy agreement.

“Wah, so scary” a voice came from outside as he walked in, “I didn’t even expect that big guy to sneak in so fast, sorry about that Trey” Cater apologized, while looking at the four brothers. “Who are you peeps?” he asks, crossing his arms while Deuce and Ace go inside as well, eyes widening at the horror the kitchen became. “Lucifer,” he says shortly, “These are my brothers, Beel, Mammon, and Leviathan” “Sup” Mammon notices Cater’s phone before going closer to him “Oh wow that’s a pretty cool design! Can I see?” he asked so suddenly that Cater didn’t have time to react before Mammon grabbed his phone “Cool! I never seen these type of design before, you got a sweet case dude” he chirps, Cater was going to be upset at the sudden lost of his phone but the way Mammon seemed genuine with his compliment he lets it go. “Well it’s great, I bought it from a store online”

And that’s where the two started hitting off, Mammon showing Cater the D.D.D. he has, and Cater being fascinated by the technology itself. “Whoa is this a unique type of phone? Never seen this before” he asks. But once again their conversation got interrupted when Leviathan glared at Mammon. “Hey! Clean up too! I’m not doing this solo!” Mammon rolls his eyes “You can carry that stuff by yourself!”

"‘Mammon!’ Leviathan’s glare intensified. ‘Ugh, fine!’ Mammon grumbled, conceding to his sibling’s persistence. Meanwhile, Cater, observing from the sidelines, couldn’t help but chuckle at their petty squabble.  I’ll go back to painting, don’t want riddle to go cray cray now” he said sounding solemn, but before Mammon could leave Cater grabbed his arm. “Oh! But let’s be moots!”   he suggested eagerly, pulling out his phone.

Mammon, who had earlier dismissed the idea due to their different phone brands, frowned thoughtfully. He wasn’t sure if his D.D.D could sync with the smartphones here, but perhaps it was worth a try. "Sure, just give me your numbs," he asked casually. As he typed Cater’s phone number, his eyes widened in pleasant surprise—it worked! "Oh, yay! We’re moots now, Mams!" he exclaimed, patting Mammon’s shoulder. "I’ll start sending you memes; you’ll love those."

"Yeah, sure," Mammon replied, scratching his cheek. He was surprised at how easy it was to befriend Cater. "See ya later, Cater," he waved goodbye as he headed back to the kitchen to retrieve the newly arrived boxes of extra confectionery and creams.

Beelzebub stared longingly at Trey as he deftly baked most of the cupcakes, while Lucifer kept a watchful eye to prevent him from pouncing on the treats.

"You bake so well; can I have some?" Beelzebub's hand twitched towards the delectable sweets, but Lucifer promptly smacked it away, resembling a swat at a persistent fly. Trey simply smiled, "It's fine, he can have some. I made extra since he seemed to enjoy them."

"Are you sure?" Lucifer frowned. "You're our guest. Just keep it in moderation," he advised, continuing to beat eggs in a bowl.

"Thank you," Lucifer acknowledged, observing as Beelzebub maintained a moderate pace in eating, quite fascinated.

"You're welcome. Though I haven't seen that color before," Trey remarked, noting the grayish hue of Beelzebub's uniform. "Is that from Ramshackle's? Since when were they admitted here?"

"Oh, this is from Ramshackle's uniforms... I believe the color signifies the dormitory," Lucifer explained, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"Yeah, you know your stuff," Trey complimented, impressed by Lucifer's knowledge and demeanor, which reminded him of someone of Riddle's caliber. Bonus: "Where do you think they went?" Solomon mused aloud, his gaze fixed on the still-open portal.

"Should we go after them? I don't want Yuki to get harmed," Luke added, a note of concern evident in his voice as he stared at the swirling portal. He could sense the ominous magic emanating from it, despite the demon brothers' casual entry.

"Why don't we all go visit?" Diavolo's voice broke through their thoughts, causing Solomon and Luke to jolt in surprise. They hadn't expected the prince to arrive so abruptly.

"Well, I doubt that you'll get harmed going in," Solomon replied with a wry smile, crossing his arms with piqued curiosity. "If you go in, Prince Diavolo, and emerge unscathed, we'll follow you."

"That is certainly not going to happen," Barbatos interjected, appearing suddenly with a scowl as he glared at Solomon. "Why are you using Lord Diavolo as a scapegoat?"

"It's fine, Barbatos! I'm curious too! Lucifer went inside, right?" Diavolo said, dismissing Barbatos's concern with a wave. Without a second thought for his safety, he jumped into the portal. "It's your portal anyway! I trust you!"

"Lord Diavolo, wait—" Barbatos's protest was cut short as Diavolo disappeared into the swirling vortex.

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 4 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, SLOW BURN

words: 6.7k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 4 ► i wanna be someone you used to hate without the memory of the pain

It took three and a half hours for the tour bus to reach Warsaw. Objectively, that gave Jungkook plenty of time to tell you about his ex and why he thought that relationship was worth salvaging.

But somehow—that is, by spinning elaborate webs and finding cheap excuses to derail the topic—he told you exactly nothing of what you wanted to know and managed to fall asleep before you could accuse him of beating around the bush.

You wanted to wake him up, but rationality won over. He needed sleep and, truthfully, you didn’t really need to know the full details of his failed relationship. As his manager, you were supposed to know that such a relationship existed and that was enough—you should have let him rest.

And you did let him.

But that did not stop you from wanting to know more.

You hesitated – really, you did, if only for a moment – before you texted Luna. It was three in the morning, but the girl slept during the day and stayed awake watching films with Taehyung at night (no matter how much you scolded him for yawning during rehearsals), so she replied right away.

You were smart enough not to text her the details over the phone – the Rated Riot members had a tendency to steal everyone’s phones just for the fun of it sometimes – so she agreed to come find you at your bunk in the back of the bus.

There were seven of you on this bus: the four members of the band, Luna, you, and the driver. You knew you had to be quiet, but you figured you were safe enough with everyone asleep now that you’d arrived at your destination (except Taehyung, who was still quietly watching Reservoir Dogs on his phone).

“I feel bad doing this,” was what you started with—you needed to make that clear as though it would justify your curiosity. All it really did was intrigue Luna more. “But I feel like I have to know.”

“What is it?” she urged, nearly bouncing with interest as she sat opposite you on your bunk.

So, you told her—in dangerous whispers—about Sid’s revelation regarding the mysterious ex and Jungkook’s subsequent secrecy. Luna listened, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes wide and glistening.

“Alright,” she concluded after you finished. “Here’s what we’re going to do – I’ll ask Taehyung to confirm if there’s any truth to this. That’s first of all. Because, let me be honest with you, everything that Sid told you sounds like he just pulled it out of his ass.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you nodded, “but then Jungkook said it’s true. Why would he lie?”

“I don’t know,” she paused here to think. “Is it possible that he’s just pulling a prank on you? Although I don’t see how anyone would find that funny.”

“Anyone but Sid.”

“Right,” she agreed. “But would Jungkook jump on that? I haven’t really seen him with his friends much, but I assume he draws the line at involving you.”

That was true. All things considered, Jungkook was rarely ever the one who called you for help when he got into trouble—it was usually his friends who did.

“You’re probably right,” you said. Your voice was hopeful, but you could never be fully certain that Jungkook’s friends haven’t pulled him into the metaphorical dark side completely. “But I don’t know what else this could be. He must have dated someone, it’s the only way this makes sense.”

“No—or maybe,” Luna said, her voice rising with sudden excitement. “Maybe he’s trying to get your pity, so you would come to Paris with him.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“Maybe he—” she started, but then stopped herself. Biting her lip, she thought twice about the way in which she’d phrase herself next. She didn’t want to instil some sort of false hope inside of you, but she also wasn’t sure if you’d even care. “I don’t know… Would it be outrageous to guess that maybe he just wants to take you out?”

You lifted your eyebrows and couldn’t resist a scoff.

“Unless it’s with a sniper, yes,” you said. “That would be outrageous.”

“Oh, come on,” she rolled her eyes at your absurd dramatics. Her suggestion seemed far more plausible to her, especially after she heard your jeering response, which obviously came from your personal discomfort, and not genuine disbelief. She pointed out, “you dated.”

“Four years ago,” you reminded her in turn. “I barely even remember the relationship or the break-up anymore.”

Luna caught the tentative tone in your voice—like you wanted to believe what you were saying, but couldn’t quite manage it, yet you hoped it wouldn’t show.

It showed. And it gave Luna a pause.

Distracted from the topic of Jungkook hypothetically wanting to take you out on a date, she asked, “why did you break up?”

You and Luna had been friends before you became Rated Riot’s manager (funnily enough, she was the one who introduced you to their music after you mentioned that you might start working with them) – but not before you broke up with Jungkook. She’d never met him, but she was one of your closest friends, so she knew of his existence—although the realization that your ex-boyfriend and Jungkook from Rated Riot was the same person, came later.

Despite that, however, the two of you had never really talked about the reasons why you and Jungkook broke up. You’d never talked about that with anyone. There was never any point for that, really – the people who knew you could tell that your relationship had ended long before you two actually broke up.

“Just—things happened,” you said, looking away and waving a dismissive hand around.

“Come on,” she pleaded again. “You were together for three years. What things could have happened to end that?”

You sighed. It wasn’t a secret or anything. This was just something you happened not to talk about. But, you supposed, it wouldn’t make much of a difference if you did.

“It was the same shit,” you began slowly. “His stupid friends. He was getting drunk every night, picking fights, drag-racing, doing other dangerous, dumb things. Then one night, I had to pick him up from the police station after he got arrested with Minjun—”

“Minjun got arrested?” Luna interrupted, her eyebrows rising. She realised she’d spoken too loudly and looked around warily—the bus was quiet, save for the sound of the film on Taehyung’s phone. She continued, quieter, “I always thought he was the most mellow one, out of Jungkook’s friends.”

“I know, right?” you nodded with a relatable smile. “I still think Sid set them up. Anyway, they were spraying graffiti on some abandoned building downtown, and they got caught by someone patrolling the street. So, they ran and, apparently, spat at the officers. Minjun and Jungkook were the only ones who got caught. That was my last straw.”

Your friend nodded, not surprised, but still unsettled to hear that this was something that you’d had to deal with even before you became Rated Riot’s manager. Luna wasn’t sure if she’d have agreed to work with an ex-boyfriend, especially if that meant interacting with his friends—who were a contributing factor to the break-up, as it seemed—again.

“Wow,” she commented, lacking better words.

“Yeah,” you concurred, because, really, that one syllable seemed to sum it up well. “But that was ages ago. I mean, he obviously hasn’t changed much, but I don’t care about it. I mean, I do, but I care as his manager. Not, uh—not personally. Not anymore.”

Luna caught the awkward stuttering and licked her lips as she tried to fight off a smirk.

“Hmm, okay,” she said, crossing her legs on your bunk. “So, if that’s the case, then why do you want to know about this relationship that he might have had?”

Immediately, you felt the need to defend yourself from whatever she was insinuating, “well, because as his manager—”

“Right,” she cut you off, repeating, “so, as his manager, why do you want to know about th—”

“Okay, fine.” You extended a hand to stop her and closed your eyes in defeat when she chuckled. “I want to know, because this person is going to be at the wedding of our mutual friends. It’s very likely that we’ve met before. A-and Jungkook said that this person might be the love of his life.”

Luna stopped laughing immediately.

“Fuck,” she whispered. “He said that?”

You brought your tongue over your dry lips. “Yeah.”

“Fuck,” she repeated.

“Yeah. I-I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not—not heartbroken or anything—”

“No, of course not.”

You gave her a look. “I’m just being careful. Because he isn’t. And if this person is anything like his friends, then… you know. It’s not good.”

You couldn’t find a better explanation why that wasn’t good or why this situation required your interference, but Luna understood. She likely understood this better than you did; your mind was still clouded with convictions that you were only doing this for the sake of the band.

“Okay,” she said with a nod. “That’s fair enough.”

This was why you loved her: she didn’t just understand you—wordlessly sometimes—but she also knew when to ask and when not to ask questions.

“Thing is, though,” you continued, folding your legs under yourself as you tried to handle the sudden anxiety that came with talking about this. “What do I tell him? If this person really is bad for him, what do I say without seeming, I don’t know, crazy? Because, when it comes to this, there’s a very thin line between being a concerned manager and a bitter ex-girlfriend. And I’m already overstepping all boundaries by talking to you about this.”

Luna didn’t think you were doing anything crazy—the two of you had done far more plotting over the years—as she tapped her index finger against her lower lip.

“Okay, let me think for a second.” She watched the ceiling of your bunk for a minute or two before asking, “okay, has he, uh—has he been in love with anyone other than you?”

This was an uncomfortable question; she could already tell before she even asked it—and your reaction was intense as you shrunk into yourself and pulled further away from her.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled.

“Don’t be humble,” she scolded kindly.

You clicked your tongue. With your face burning—for no reason other than your own discomfort and, possibly, insecurities—you looked down and shrugged your shoulders, as if this gesture could reduce the weight of your confession.

“No,” you said. “He hasn’t. To my knowledge.”

“Okay,” Luna replied as quickly as she could, knowing that an awkward silence would follow otherwise. “So, once upon a time, he probably thought you were the love of his life. He was wrong, right?”

You swallowed, still not looking up. “Right.”

Luna paused here, thrown off yet again by the lack of conviction in your voice. Normally, you were overly composed and not at all hesitant when it came to this. But not tonight.

It’s been four years, you had said, trying very hard not to hesitate. I barely remember the break-up.

This persistent uncertainty that Luna kept noticing interested her. It interested her even more than your evident stiffness—even embarrassment—about the fact that Jungkook had never been in love with anyone else but you.

She squinted her eyes at you, while you focused on the duvet underneath you, tracing the pattern with your thumb.

There were seven people on this bus, only two of whom had been in the relationship that was currently under discussion,  and yet Luna could have sworn there wouldn’t be anyone who could say that Jungkook had really been wrong about this. That you weren’t the mythical love of his life. That he didn’t love you anymore.

Truly, she realised—not a single person who knew you two, could have said this with certainty. Not even you.

“Right,” she echoed nonetheless—she was making a point, after all. “So, then if he was wrong once, he could be wrong again. Tell him that.”

She extended her hands to signal the ingenuity—and the sheer simplicity—of her plan, and you had to give her a respectful nod as you finally met her eye.

“Okay,” you said, “I guess that could work.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, although she thought you both knew that you’d just be pretending if you used this as an argument against Jungkook.

A small part of her—more chaotic than her other parts—wondered what would happen if you confronted Jungkook about this. If you asked, point-blank, if he’d ever felt like you were the love of his life and if this feeling ever left him.

But she knew you’d never do it. She supposed that the secrecy surrounding your relationship wasn’t just a front for your friends—the two of you didn’t speak much about it to each other, either.

Not to mention, you couldn’t even use the words “love” and “life” in one sentence without looking like you were being executed in front of the whole town.

Exhaling as she watched you get lost in your own thoughts, Luna extended her legs over the ledge of your bunk. “Okay, I’ll go back to Taehyung and—”

You blinked in sudden panic. “Don’t ask him now, though! He’ll know we just talked about this.”

She looked at you with disdain. “Do you think this is my first time gathering intel behind someone’s back? I got this.”

She was right, of course. You had no reason not to trust her; the two of you had done a lot of sleuthing together in the past.

That was why you’d texted her tonight—because she was the one who could give you a different perspective. And in case her perspective matched yours, she was the one who’d help you find the answers you were looking for.

“Okay,” you said. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” she replied as she stepped out of your bunk and gave you one more look over her shoulder before she returned to her boyfriend. “Get some sleep.”

Jungkook continued to be evasive the whole day in Warsaw, but, then again, you didn’t talk to him much. You trusted Luna to get to the bottom of this, and focused on your job instead.

And your job needed focus.

Jett Records called to check in—as if they could sense that you were planning a secret trip to France with the band’s vocalist tomorrow. And then you were contacted by radio hosts from Germany and England – they were interested in interviewing the band, so you had to adjust the daily schedules.

On top of that, Hoseok’s drum pedals started to malfunction during the soundcheck, so you and Jimin – the sound technician and an avid drum enthusiast – spent the whole afternoon travelling to various music stores to find a replacement. Jimin insisted he could repair it, but he spent an hour just trying to figure out what the issue was, so you guessed it’d be faster to get a new one.

As it turned out, it wasn’t faster at all. Obviously, neither of you spoke Polish, and, just like the Rated Riot members themselves, Jimin was also very directionally challenged—yet he refused to let you use the map on your phone. Fortunately, both of you were also stubborn, so you huffed and cursed, but you found the bloody pedal in the end.

You were drained by the time Rated Riot stepped on stage for their performance that night, but you’d fixed the drums and gotten everything under control—and that felt good.

You’d done your job well today and all the unexpected errands successfully distracted you from the upcoming trip to Paris.

Once everyone gathered backstage after the show, you and Jungkook were the only two people glancing at your phones and exchanging conspiratory looks, while everyone else had drinks and sang along to Reconnaissance on the speakers—it was long established that this was the band that Rated Riot looked up to at the moment.

You didn’t mind. Reconnaissance had sold out Wembley Stadium on their third European tour. If Rated Riot continued down the path they were on now, their own third visit to the continent could take place in similar venues.

However, you couldn’t just sit here with a soft smile as everyone danced around you, because the train from Warsaw left early in the morning.

This proposed another problem: you hardly wanted to inform everyone that you were going to spend the band’s day off travelling to a wedding in Paris with Jungkook. You debated taking the illness route – surely no one would bother you if you drew the curtains on your bunk on the bus and hung a note, claiming you weren’t feeling well.

But before you could decide on any course of action, Jungkook stood up from his seat next to you and declared to everyone in the room, “we’re going sightseeing around Europe tomorrow. So, if any of you need us, don’t.”  

“Around Europe?” Yoongi repeated with an amused scoff. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means we’re going to be taking trains to places,” Jungkook explained so very concisely. “And we don’t want anyone to bother us.”

Feeling hot all of a sudden—because the way he was describing this was painfully ambiguous—you stood up, too, and tried to do damage control, “what he means is—”

“Have fun, guys,” Hoseok interrupted, gently brushing his hand against your shoulder as he walked past. “It’s our day off, you deserve some rest, too.”

That wasn’t the reaction you were expecting—you were, after all, the manager; and leaving the band so suddenly for the whole day wasn’t, exactly, permitted—but perhaps you should have known better.

All of you spent so much time together that every single staff member in this room felt more like family than your actual family did sometimes. You should have guessed they wouldn’t look down on you for doing this.

Still, you reminded everyone, “if you need me, you can call me. I’m still available, okay?”

Everyone nodded with good-natured chuckles as Jungkook pulled you towards the door—all while you waved your phone around to accentuate your availability.

Because of this, you missed the meaningful glances exchanged between Jungkook and his friends—Sid, Jude, and Minjun were oddly quiet now that Rated Riot, as well as other staff, were in the room with them.

“Don’t call her,” you heard Jungkook whisper at his bandmates as the two of you exited the room into the hallway. “She’s not available.”

Smacking him on the shoulder—and ignoring the annoyed, “ow, for fuck’s sake, this is my singing arm!”—you closed the door of the changing room, but not before adding a rushed, “call me, seriously!” at the guys inside.

You saw them smile and wave before the door clicked shut, and you exhaled slowly.

“This trip better be worth it,” you warned Jungkook as the two of you walked towards the back exit.

“It will be,” he assured you, still rubbing his shoulder. “This is going to bruise, by the way.”

“It’s not going to bruise. I barely touched you.”

“Don’t gaslight me. I’m in pain.”

You stopped walking to glare at him.

“I apologise for hurting you,” you said with a deadpan expression. “Would you like me to put ice on it? A bandage? Kiss it better?”

He removed his hand from his shoulder and turned away very ceremoniously. “Don’t baby me.”

You pushed the exit door open and waved your hand to allow him to leave first. “Then don’t act like a baby.”

He walked out, all while mumbling in discontent, “I’m taking you to a wedding in Paris as my date. You could be grateful.”

Your mouth nearly fell open at his audacity as you followed him outside, the door slamming shut behind you.

“I’m going to a wedding in Paris as your date,” you retorted. “You could be grateful.”

At first, he tried to think of a witty comeback while you browsed your phone to order an Uber, but then he realised that wouldn’t be fair and chose to be honest instead.

“Okay, fine. I am grateful,” he admitted.

You ordered the ride and locked your phone, crossing your arms as the two of you stood in the nearly empty parking lot, illuminated only by a few stray street lights.

“And I am sorry if I really hurt you,” you replied. “I don’t usually use violence.”

Jungkook grinned. “You couldn’t throw a punch even if you tried.”

You lifted your eyebrows and raised a fist. “You want to actually see me try?”

There was an impressed twinkle in his eye. “I thought you said no violence.”

“You challenged me,” you replied, taking half a step back to get into a proper boxing position. His lip twitched in a smile as you said, “I’m really just proving a point.”

“The only point you’re proving is the one I made,” he said, nodding at your stance, “that is not how you fight.”

You looked down at your legs. “What’s wrong with—”

You felt a quick, but gentle poke under your chin that sent your head backwards. Jungkook snickered, pulling away.

“And don’t ever look away from your opponent,” he added. “Can’t believe I have to teach you that again. I knew you never listened to me.”

Your gaze was murderous when you looked at him again. You gathered your legs and stood up normally.

“I am going to wait until you fall asleep on the train,” you said, “and leave your ass in Cologne before our transfer.”

“If you think I won’t find my way back to you,” he replied, “you don’t know me at all.”

Your annoyed expression prompted his amused grin to widen before he puckered his lips and smacked them, a mocking air kiss.

Your glare remained as you stuffed your tongue into your cheek. “You make me so miserable sometimes.”

Chuckling in response, he pointed at the headlights approaching you two from across the parking lot. “I think that’s our Uber.”

Immediately, you made your way towards it. “I’m sitting at the front.”

He caught up with you with one quick stride. The car stopped on the edge of the parking lot as the driver seemingly noticed the two of you.

“Absolutely not,” Jungkook said, knowing you’d rather crawl than endure small talk with the driver. “You’re sitting with me in the back. Or we’re both walking to the train station.”

“I really regret the day I met you,” you informed him.

“No, you don’t,” he argued brightly. “I’m a gift.”

“A gift from hell.”

He laughed as he opened the back door for you, only entering the car after you got comfortable in the furthest corner. Smug, he slid down the backseat until he was right next to you, even though there was plenty of space for, at least, four people here.

Even though you rolled your eyes at him, it’s been a while since the two of you played around like this—like you weren’t simply working together—and you had to resist a smile.

The two of you merely glanced at each other before looking away again as you violently repressed all the memories that this moment outside in the parking lot had brought back.

You and Jungkook were already on the 4 AM train when Luna texted you, “not true!!! TH knows for a fact that JK was sleeping around w Sid's girls when he was in that ‘relationship’. He definitely lied to you!!”

Swallowing—because, suddenly, this made less sense—you lifted your eyes from your phone to look at Jungkook. He was sitting across from you, leaning his elbows on the fold-out table between you in the private compartment of the train.

He wasn’t looking at you as he filmed the view outside the train window (although there wasn’t much to film, it was still dark outside, save for the occasional street light somewhere far in the distance), but he felt your eyes quickly enough. As soon as he turned his head in your direction, you looked down at your phone again.

You didn’t understand. Why would he lie to you?

You typed back a quick, “thanks,” to Luna, and then cleared your throat, putting your phone on the table.

“So, uh,” you said, finally meeting his gaze. “How are you feeling? I realise I never asked you.”

He frowned. “What do you mean? You ask me that almost every day.”

“But not about the break-up,” you clarified, trying to sound as genuine as you could under the circumstances. “Must have been difficult. How long ago did you say you broke up?”

You watched as he clenched his jaw and returned his attention to his phone, proceeding with the video.

“I told you I’d rather not talk about this,” he replied decidedly enough.

“And I told you I’d only come with you to Paris if you talked to me,” you pushed.

Swallowing the unpleasant feeling in his throat, Jungkook finally stopped recording. He clicked something on his phone—just stalling, you were sure of it—and then finally put his phone on the table next to yours.

He’d dug this hole himself—well, actually, Sid dug this hole for him, but he leapt into it voluntarily. Now he had to find a way out.

“Fine,” he said. “I don’t remember exactly when. Maybe two weeks before we left for tour.”

Huh. Sid had said it was four days before the flight to Prague. What were the odds that his useless friend remembered the break-up more vividly than Jungkook himself?

“Right, right.” You nodded, abandoning all sensitivity now that the chances of this being true diminished even more. Unless he cheated on his partner—repeatedly, apparently—he was lying straight to your face. “Did you ask why? Did you, maybe, do something that would have—”

“Are you saying it’s my fault?” he interrupted loudly enough to make his anger seem genuine.

You blinked, momentarily surprised.

“I’m not saying,” you defended. “I’m asking.”

You supposed you could have given him the benefit of the doubt here – that was easier to do than to think of reasons why he’d feel the need to lie about a break-up or a relationship. But Jungkook wasn’t the type to cheat—then again, was anyone, really, the type?

That being said, if Taehyung knew that Jungkook was sleeping around at the time of the supposed relationship, then perhaps these things could have been happening simultaneously. Perhaps his partner found out and broke up with him.

“It sounds like you’re accusing me,” Jungkook said, his gaze firm.

Keeping eye contact, you countered, “I’m just trying to understand.”

“Is it so hard to believe that someone would break up with me?” he asked. “You’ve done it, too.”

Nearly flinching at the abrupt—but factual—accusation, you looked down.

“Okay,” you said as your fingers found the edges of your phone case to toy with. His unexpected statement had cut your interrogation short. “I’m just trying to see what the odds are of you getting back together with this person. If that’s still something you want.”

Jungkook looked away, too, watching the darkness outside of the window. “I’m still thinking about it.”

Unsure what to make of that—especially since now you knew that there was, most likely, no person for him to get back together with—you only hummed in response.

“Let’s just make it to Paris and we’ll see,” he added, honest this time. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

It was you who lied this time as you gave him a small nod of agreement. “Yeah. Sure.”

That was the extent of your conversation on the topic: he didn’t pursue it further—which would have been weird in any case, considering how much he cared about being taken seriously; and he could see that you were having doubts now—and neither did you. You obviously had more questions, but you knew they’d only work as an opening for him to lie further.

You thought that, if you didn’t know that he was lying, you would have had to respect his decision not to give you more details, even though you were curious. He’d applied the same method to your own relationship, after all. You’d always appreciated it, regardless of how obnoxious it seemed to your friends sometimes—the relationship stayed between the two people that were in it.

But he wasn’t in a relationship now. Not as far as Taehyung and Luna knew.

And yet, this didn’t feel like a good time to get into an argument. Regardless of his motives for this lie, you were on a train to Paris with him. You’d be going to your friends’ wedding together. Then, you’d be taking another train back to join the tour.

You could play along for a short while—if anything, just so you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable for the entirety of the upcoming 24 hours.

Finally, after two transfers – one in Berlin, and one in Cologne – you had four hours left until you’d arrive at Gare du Nord in Paris. Taking a plane would have required less time and fewer layovers, but it was impossible to find a flight on such short notice, especially when you were on a budget.

Another two hours later, as Jungkook began to wake up from his nap, you figured it was a good time to change into a more appropriate outfit for the wedding – you’d worn a grey tracksuit for the train ride – so you grabbed your overnight bag and headed to the bathroom.

At this point in your journey, you’d nearly forgotten the unsuccessful conversation that you’d had about his ex, and you were surprised to realise that not knowing the whole truth didn’t bother you much. The gentle rocking of the train was soothing—calming, even. And the idea that you’d see your old friends soon felt exciting, too.

There were many other things you could have focused on—and you did. Even though some of the distracting thoughts that you had, weren’t, exactly, a better alternative.

Changing in the cramped bathroom of a moving train was about as uncomfortable as one could imagine, but it was nothing you hadn’t done before. And, now that you thought about it, you realised that you and Jungkook had done a lot more in train bathrooms than just changing clothes.

The unexpected memory forced you to bump your head into the sink as you took your sneakers off, and you cursed quietly under your breath.

You weren’t sure why you were remembering this now, but you were alone, thankfully, and had enough time to shake these thoughts out of your head as you slid your sweatpants down your legs and pulled the burgundy, off-the-shoulder dress out of your bag.

The dress had wrinkled a bit, but you had packed a leather jacket just in case—it would certainly divert the attention, considering the huge skull on the back of it.

However, looking at the jacket now, you were forced to remember where you got it. You’d had it for so long, you didn’t think anything when you packed it. But now you could remember Jungkook being there with you the day you first saw it. The two of you had only stopped at the clothing store because it had begun to rain—rain seemed to surround your relationship—and neither of you had an umbrella.

While you were looking for one in the accessory section, Jungkook approached you with this jacket and a big grin.

“You already have one like this,” you had told him then.

“I know,” he’d replied, beaming. “Now we can match.”

The jacket wouldn’t have meant anything if you weren’t on this train now. It would have just been a jacket—like any other piece of clothing that you’d worn before you broke up—if you weren’t going to Paris with him. If you weren’t remembering all of these useless moments in your life; meaningless, really, until your heart rate picked up.

Mumbling a few more curses, you put on the only heels you’d packed for the tour. They were far too chunky to go with the dress, but they seemed to go with the jacket—and you didn’t have any alternatives anyway. You had planned the outfit before you could plan the mess of thoughts in your head.

Another ten minutes later, you finally exited the bathroom and saw that there was already a small queue outside. Apologizing—and blaming the dumbfounded looks on people’s faces on your hair; you could tell it was everywhere, but not anywhere it needed to be—you jogged back towards your compartment, sighing in relief when you slid the door closed.

When you turned around, Jungkook was watching you with slightly parted lips.

You could tell he recognised the jacket.

“Shut up,” you said right away, unsure if he was going to tease you about it or mock the fact that you were dressed up for a festival rather than a wedding. “I didn’t bring enough clothes. And I know my hair looks like it’s moving to Argentina to start an independent—”

“No,” he cut you off with enough force to surprise himself, and then stuttered his way through something that was supposed to be a sentence, “it, uh—it looks—it’s—you’re, uh—it’s great. It’s fine.”

You snorted as you looked for a hairbrush in your backpack. “It’s great and it’s fine. Thanks.”

“I meant—” he began, but then gave up. He couldn’t look at you in this dress with the jacket that he got you, breathe, think of what to say, and actually speak at the same time. That was four things and he could barely stop doing the first one. “I should—I’m going to go change, too.”

“Sure,” you muttered distractedly, finally finding the hairbrush and the pocket mirror that you were looking for—but missing the way Jungkook looked back at you as he walked away.

The only time he stopped glancing back at you was when he nearly tumbled into a snack trolley and, once he walked around it, you were already out of his field of vision.

He needed cold water first and foremost, because for a good minute there, it seemed as though there was no way around the fact that Sid had been right. He did still have feelings for you.

Sure, he constantly flirted with you outright since you began to work together, but, he did that to fluster you. To annoy you. And, of course, he still thought you were beautiful to the point where his knees felt wobbly when he was in the same room with you sometimes, and his breath got caught in his throat if you looked at him for longer than a minute.

He was a professional, not a blind idiot.

But he liked to think that this was a physical attraction. Momentary reminiscences of your past relationship. He was grateful for these memories sometimes when he was writing songs (although less so when he tried to fall asleep), but he couldn’t have real, actual feelings for you. It’s been four years.

This was just the dress—it was the same colour as the skirt you’d worn on your third date, when you went to get fast food and he accidentally dropped an open packet of ketchup on you. You’d laughed and told him it was fine; you couldn’t see the stain anyway. You’d joked that that was why you’d worn this skirt—because you knew what a klutz he was.

Or maybe it was your hair—it looked like the same mess as it had when he rented out a convertible for your first anniversary and took you for a ride. It was early September, and he had thought it would be nice and warm, but within the first five minutes, both of your mouths were full of bugs, and you couldn’t hear a word the other one was saying through the sound of the wind. He had to pull over on the side of the road. The two of you needed a good minute to stop laughing at how ridiculous you looked before you could clean yourselves, because you had dinner reservations at a restaurant in town in an hour—he could still feel the softness of your hair as he untangled it with his fingers.

Or maybe it was the way you were completely unaware of this—like the first time he took you to meet his parents and you’d hyperventilated the whole bus ride to their house. You were nineteen, much too young for something as serious as meeting each other’s families, but he was completely calm. You’d asked him what would happen if his parents hated you. What about his grandma? His aunts and uncles? His cousins? His brother? Jungkook lived with an abundance of close and more distant relatives—what if they opposed the relationship? What if they told you to leave?

He’d never told you, but every time his grandmother had a better day, she still asked him about you.

Or maybe it was just you—like the first time he saw you at the Freshman Orientation in university. You’d been discussing Howl’s Moving Castle with someone with such intensity that he could see the fire in your eyes from across the room. He found out you’d seen every Studio Ghibli film before he even met you. And he fell in love with your eyes when you spoke about the things you loved before he said one word to you. He’d never believed in love at first sight, and not until years later, did he realise how utterly stupid it was not to believe in something that had happened to him, and kept happening every time he saw you, until, finally—almost a whole year later—he gathered enough courage to approach you and tell you that he liked My Neighbor Totoro, too.

Shit, shit, shit.

Shit.

When Jungkook returned to your compartment about fifteen minutes later, you were the one who needed a second to get yourself together.

He was wearing a black dress shirt under a black suit jacket with glossy, vertical stripes, embroidered with glittery beads that caught the sun rays and—as usual—reflected them right in your eyes when you looked up at him. Black suit pants and Oxford platform shoes finished his outfit—ironically, fit for both, a wedding and a funeral.

“Nice jacket,” you said, purposefully looking away and busying yourself with your backpack even though there was nothing useful in it for you now. “Tour wardrobe?”

“No, actually, this one’s mine,” he replied, looking down at his clothes. “I’d never worn it before. Very Prince. Didn’t think I could pull it off.”

“Hmm,” you glanced at him again, then looked back at your belongings—this was the only way you could remain coherent enough. “You’re pulling it off well.”

“Thanks,” he replied with a small smile as he took his seat in front of you.

You’d endured nearly fourteen hours of travel time – one hour left until Paris – and, unbelievably, this was the first time that this trip got awkward: right now – with the two of you sitting in front of each other, in your wedding guest outfits, not knowing what to do with your eyes or your bodies or your minds.

You weren’t sure what your role was anymore. You weren’t, technically, on tour with him right now, so you could hardly call yourself his manager here—if anything, you were breaking the rules that a manager should have enforced.

You supposed you could have called him a friend. He was the one person you knew the longest—he knew things about you that no one else did.

But, at the end of the day, he was also your ex-boyfriend. And, suddenly, four years didn’t seem that long ago as your relationship came rushing back at you with full force.

A little over three years together—exactly one-thousand, one-hundred and eighty days; the last eighty had seemed never-ending back then, as your relationship began to wither—and now you were trying your hardest to pretend like you didn’t feel the dangerously strong, almost magnetic pull towards each other.

You hoped this was just the air in Paris. Things would go back to the way they were once you joined the rest of the band on tour in Berlin.

Jungkook knew this wasn’t the air and it wasn’t just Paris. But he thought he could pretend it was.

chapter title credits: bad omens, “take me first”

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[pawl3ss]

I came here to be a hater and hate on the minecraft movie trailer.

Get ready because this is probably the longest and the most autistic post ive made so far

I wont talk about the weird cgi and how unprofessional it looks but about how inaccurate the trailer is because it pisses me off and I have to be a nerd about it <3

ALSO IM NOT SURE IF TUMBLR WILL LET ME POST ALL OF THIS IN ONE POST so if it doesnt ill reblog with the rest <:3

first of all, those are NOT minecraft mountains.

Yes such seeds exist and you can find smt like that super easily in the game but it does NOT look so blocky

It should be a bit more smooth like here ⬆️

Next, what the fuck happened to the flowers.

Alot of the plants, trees, etc look like a disrespectful rip off of minecraft

Talking about plants, the trees are a big wtf

On the first pic you can see the log is SO THIN. LIKE THINNER THAN A TOOTHPICK. In the second you can see it is thicker, but because the block that fell out is so Itty bitty, you have to make the tree thinner.

The tree is as wide as the players, and when the block falls out its bigger than whatever the fuck this is. Yes I understand they have to carry the blocks and they can't make it too big, but you know what's a good solution? - make the blocks bigger when they fall out, but make them shrink when they get close/get put into a chest or inventory. SO EASY

Also I know you can find pink sheep naturally in the game, but oh come on.

You want to show how sPeCiAl the characters are and that they're sOoOoOo special they found a pink sheep on their spawn but oh my God you could have just let it be a normal sheep.

We stay with animals, and WHAT HAPPENED TO THE POOR WOLF. THE SNATCHED WAIST???? WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM ☹️

and why is the creeper so, fluffy. Creepers are NOT made out of fur they are made of what alot of minecraft players suspect rotten skin like zombies or a skin-alike material, but it is NOT fur.

Also, *wrong buzzer sound* llamas don’t just spawn naturally. Unless theres a wandering trader (or however theyre called in english) they aren’t able to spawn just like that. They also usually have the carpet on their back.

EDIT: TURNS OUT THEY DO SPAWN NATURALLY IN MOUNTAIN BIOMES. still the Llama being here looks like they just put her there to try and "be funny" ykwim?

I also wanted to also say, this one character I feel that they're gonna be the most stereotypical, annoying one out of the whole movie and my ears hurt just looking at them

I wanted to say that the portal shouldn't be blue but like. Only the nether portal is purple, it's unknown how other portals look so... yeah

But still wtf is this cube??? What's the fuck are you holding young man???

Also, talking about mobs, piglins dont look like that, they dont have red light in their eyes, they dont have those drum-things because THEY DONT EVEN EXIST IN MINECRAFT which i will get to latur. They aren’t able to build like that, they aren’t able to get wood for trapdoors and for the fences and iron for the chains. Also they do not even know how to craft, they probably domt even know what a crafting table is. And ghasts also aren’t able to be in the overworld. I understand that theyre invading the land ans taking over but still Like Cmon >:(

I also wanted to say that this is not how nether looks but like. It does a bit, like where the piglins usually spawn ykwim? so ill give them that, the nether looks alr

Anyway TALKING ABOUT THINGS THAT DONT EXIST IN MINECRAFT: whatever this is, it isnt craftable in minecraft, unless there are mods installed. But the „mods” excuse can be used for everything in this post. It was the first thing i saw that pissed me off so badly that i had to make this post because like JUST USE ALL THE STUFF THAT THE ORIGINAL FRANCHISE HAS TO OFFER! NORMAL BUCKETS WOULD PROBABLY WORK JUST FINE!

Last but not least, if you think those two are the same character ive got some bad news for you buddy.

At least dye his beard brown. At least get the colours right. Please.

I think i mentioned everything i wanted. Lets hope the movie will get fixed or will turn out to be at least a bit better.

Thank you for letting me get nerdy about it <3