⋆--------⋆ 🍵𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨🌿 ⋆--------⋆ I write for fun. If you want, u can call me Mary. 18+ y'all ❗ Btw I'm a multi-language and mainly a yandere blog. Free Palestine 🇵🇸
•Yandere Hinata Shoyo w/ mc who's as passionate about volleyball
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僕のヒーローアカデミア[BNHA][Though i won't write about this manga/anime]
•The Big 3: types of boyfriends/girlfriend
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デスノート [Death Note]
•Mello: type of boyfriend
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進撃の人 [Shingeki no kyojin]
•Types of Friends
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約束 の ネ バ ー ラ ン ド [The Promised Neverland]
•Yandere TPN Headcanons
•Yandere TPN Headcanons-2
•Yandere Emma drabble [to be added soon!]
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ディズニー ツイステッドワンダーランド[Twisted Wonderland]
•Spoiled- Yandere Malleus Draconia x reader x Silver [pt. 1]
•Just a kiss- Yandere Malleus Draconia x reader x Silver [pt.2]
•Aftermath- Yandere Malleus Draconia x reader x Silver [pt.3]
•Like a Dream- Yandere Malleus Draconia x reader x Silver [pt.4]
•Yandere Malleus Draconia x reader w/D.I.D.
•How many?- Yandere Malleus Draconia X reader [angst]
•Azul Ashengrotto x reader Headcanons
•Yandere dorm leaders x fallen angel reader [pt. 1]
•Yandere dorm leaders x fallen angel reader [pt. 2]
•To my dove- Yandere Rook Hunt x reader [letter styled]
•Perpetua Nox- Malleus x reader [oneshot]
•Just the two of us- Trey Clover x reader [coming soon]
•White as snow- Yandere Neige LeBlanche x reader [coming soon]
•Remember me, brother- Jade Leech/Floyd Leech angst story [platonic]
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ヘタリア[Hetalia: Axis Powers]
•Bell'amore- Romano Vargas[South Italy] x reader [coming soon]
•Liebe- Ludwig Beilschmidt [Germany] x reader [coming soon]
•Loser- Yandere Allen F. Jones [2p. America] x reader [coming soon]
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おべいみー[Obey Me!]
• Yandere Mammon Headcanons [coming soon]
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✉鬼滅の刃[Kimetsu no yaiba]
• Falling sun- Yandere Kibutsuji Muzan x reader [coming soon]
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✉[Special]
•Look, an empty space!
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✉[Miscellaneous]
•𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐫, 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨
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✉[Reblogs]
•This cute little trend here
•Yandere Genshin Cult Au [reblog @.pinkie pop]
•Yandere HSR memes [reblog @.lavandulawrites]
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•Heaven's Gold Noose [reblog @.heliosunny]
•Malleus+Layouts [reblog @.blastcycle]
✉Info & Rules
• This blog was created by me for entertainment only, so please avoid any insults.
• This blog contains NS//FW, Yandere content and dark themes, so I beg anyone under the age of right or who may be bothered / triggered by such content not to read posts with warnings. But there are also fluff and angst scenarios, so if you don't like this type of stuff, you could always read my other posts ;)
• Here I will write several things ranging from classic one-shots to scenarios and head-canons. The scenarios present may be of the following type:
Angst [where the scenario shows sad themes],
Fluff [where the scenario shows cheerful themes and moments of tenderness],
Yandere [where very heavy topics are found, such as kidnapping, unhealthy relationships, stalking, obsession, etc.].
• The reader will be written by me as a female [since I'm one] by default, not because I hate or despite writing for gn reader, it's just my inclination on writing. That will change according to the requests, I'll accept female and gn readers.
• I will absolutely NOT write:
Pedophilia,
incest,
too much gore/gore fetish,
character x character,
step-cest,
detailed description of rape/ rape,
heavy NS//FW/ detailed corn works,
vore,
mental/phisical disturb/illness [I wrote something like that and I don't think I'll write about it anymore]
pregnancy,
various kinks,
or anything related to this stuff.
• I want to clarify from the beginning that here we respect all the ships of others, as long as they are legal, that they do not ridicule the character or that monopolize them [ex. NO, BuT *insert character name here* Is OnLy MiNe !!1!!11!!!]
• I accept requests where there are more love or platonic interests, such as: poly characters x reader, as long as they do not exceed too many, the maximum amount of characters for post/scenarios is 4-5.
• I take a lot of time writing the scenarios, head-canons etc, so nobody should feel wrong if the requested scenario does not come out immediately. I am not a writer, and this serves as a smattering, I will try to do my best.
• If I don't write a specific request, it will definitely have nothing to do with the person who requested, but I will probably not be comfortable writing it [although I will try to answer ALL requests.]
• There is no chance that I will write for OCs, so requests that contain OC! x (character) will be ignored.
•I won't write about real people like actors, singers, YouTubers etc. Not only because I think that reading a fanfiction about yourself would be really strange, but because I already don't like writing about actual existing people.
• Homophobic/racist/sexist, misandric comments etc. and you will immediately get banned/reported. (WE ARE ALL PEOPLE WITH RIGHTS AND FEELINGS.)
•I don't take the responsibility of the people who reads my works, I assume that all of you are ok with all the stuff I write and that you are aware that I don't support violence in any way.
•If anyone in your life is toxic or makes you do things that you don't want to do, please ask immediately for help, those behaviours [yanderes] aren't good, and shouldn't be in a healthy relationship/friendship etc. Please be safe. You don't owe anything to anyone, and if someone tries to use subtle and disgusting ways to make you do what you don't want to, remember that there are people that want only the best for you. Don't be afraid to talk and to speak about your problems.
• Also, I don't really want to become a politically centered blog, but I have to say something about these horrific things that are happening in these times. Every time I open a social, I feel piece by piece trying to believe that we can't go worse than before. But it keeps getting worse. The oppression of the Palestinian people by those who should know what it is like to be the victims of a genocide. The dictatorial regime of the Orange face and the deplorable things Ice does, all his and other people's victims in the Files. And this is just to say a few of the shitshow we are forced to live amongst and near. My heart goes to you all, but I realize that the people who really need help, who really are in real danger and have priorities, will not spend their time or days reading fanfictions when they have more important stuff to do. And I am sorry. I'm sorry for everything they suffer, for every single thing they have to endure because of hate. It's all hate, hate hate, that's how they manage to move such big waves of political (and/or not only that) consensus. Please, try not to hate, try not to become an animal. Is it difficult? Of course, I too am not a saint, but I hope we can be just a little more good than what the world is showing to be. Stay safe and again, I will forever be with those who are in need.
Sooo, I want to tell you all that I'm sorry if anyone got the notification I just posted a fic just a few minutes ago.
I'm so sorry, since that wasn't meant to be published yet.
It is still a work in progress, without any tags or anything related, since I was still writing the initial part of this fic.
I'm so sorry about this inconvenience, and am I tripping or this has already happened before? Because I remember writing something similar already some time ago. Might see if I'm correct, but knowing myself I already probably did something like this.
Again, sorry for this announcement. It's probably pretty useless per se, but I wanted to at least let y'all know what happened. The post is not deleted, otherwise I'd have to start all over again and I do NOT want to, so I set it as a private post for now. When I make it public, I'll let you know, so stay tuned for it!!
Yo I just wanted to say I really like your writing and you are one of my top favorite writers on this app but I'm too shy to comment so I'm just doing a Ask while anonymously but I really love your work! (^_^)
Thank you so much omg😭😭 It's no worries, I appreciate every kind of engaging, even if u people don't put a like like or sum, just the thought you all spent time of your day to read my stuff makes me feel so happy and grateful 🥹
As I said before, I should be the one thanking you all for your time and presence. In fact, I wouldn't be even here if I hadn't been inspired to do so by so many other creators here and you all.
Does it sound corny? Probably, but I don't know how to phrase it better haha. But I do hope you got the idea, thank you all. Thank you so much <33
𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: "Yandere Shoyo Hinata x reader who is passionate about volleyball just like he is?"
WARNINGS: FEM READER, disturbing themes, unhealthy relationships, aging characters, mentions of murderous intentions, yandere content and all what comes with it. Well, I may have a problem managing my own time, and then end up doing everything in a rush lol. Uni and exams are killing me, I swear to godz and I have an exam in literally a few hours so.. Also, I'm sick as fk now, so thank you very much winter. But I really liked this idea, it got me thinking of so many tiny drabbles in my head! So I settled for a mix between both drabbles and headcanons. And I am working on another TPN ask as for now, so that too should be out in some time!
If someone had ever asked Hinata what he could possibly want in a potential friend, it would have simply been someone who would support him.
He wouldn’t have asked for anything else, to follow him around in everything he did, far from it..
But he couldn’t deny that he would have loved the way… you would sit next to him on the bench during PE, your eyebrows furrowed as you genuinely tried to understand his point of view and his reasoning to go there instead of another point of the field..
It was really nice.
Beautiful, even.
So beautiful that he would have immediately started grinning like an idiot during his practice matches with his teammates at the thought- recieving especially from Kageyama and Tsukishima a roll of eyes and a disdained mutter respectively.
The way you would occasionally stop with your friends to talk about various techniques- even if they were conversations that he would have sworn could be counted on the palm of a single hand.
The sports question could have come up in a casual convo, but no one really cared about a well-structured and sensible answer when those were just short, update-type questions.
You could have talked to him instead- about anything, everything!!
Please, just P L E A S E ramble to him about all you know about volleyball, he might and will fall even harder than before, cementing in his mind that you two are indeed soulmates.
Oh, he would have been so happy to hear you talk about anything you ever wanted, from the most complicated to the most mundane. He would have lain on his stomach with his legs dangling, a goofy smile on his face, numb on his elbows, but happy in his heart.
Or he could just admire the extremely diligent way in which, with the headphones strictly in your ears, you had secluded yourself to study at least a little bit.. That he was worshiping from behind the nearest wall the way your eyebrows had come together in an attempt to understand and were constantly scribbling on your notebook were things that only he hoped to know.
He wasn’t spying on you! Not at all!
And it was not weird at all to know what songs you were listening to over and over in that time period, much less to torment you like a puppy to give him academic help!
Well, he was never really into studying- he didn’t outright hate studying and school! It was just that.. volleyball had always been the only thing in his mind until then, and he really couldn’t untangle the hours he spent on the court or training from the hours he should have spent on books..
But he would happily do anything as long as you were there- especially you!
He would just smile at the thought, his throat dry at the thought of you just being close to him, or at the thought of you explaining the same topic to him for the hundredth time since he would always get distracted by your presence-
No, he wasn’t that easily distracted- try it yourself, staying focused on cold facts when you have the love of your life in front of you!
He couldn’t possibly blame himself, and he even loved the way you continued to support him despite the clear signs of nothing- he would repay that trust in him a hundredfold!!
He swore it!!
Only that.. well, it was hard for you to be found alone- it was easy to talk to you (if you could've ignored the constant blush on his cheeks and the obvious stutter in his words), but..
He was.. he felt exactly shy.
And he didn’t know if he was comfortable with this.
He usually wasn’t that hard to approach, in fact he loved talking and getting to know someone else to relate to.
It was no coincidence that he had befriended Kenma. Kozume Kenma, of all people, possibly the most introverted guy he had ever dealt with.
But you?
You made his throat close up in a fiery grip, words dead on his palate, just behind his teeth, while before his eyes. He would have handed you every bottle of water during your training sessions with such enthusiasm—
And there you go- Hinata was sure you two were meant to be soulmates.
You had other friends, of course, but he felt this strong connection with you, and he was sure you felt it too when you were paired up during various classes- that he had previously literally fallen to his knees in front of the professor to have you as his partner was another matter.
But they didn't really understand you, not like he did.
He could see how you would read information after information, updates after upate about your favorite team, obscured by the constant chatter of the other people around you, he saw it.
And felt it too.
And he was really worried about your friendships.
He didn't exactly like the way your smile would dip just enough to set off alarm bells in his brain, and all in the presence of those who proclaimed themselves friends until death.
Hinata was the one who trained with you, who had the divine blessing of being with you for a large part of the day, not them.
And he was fine with that.
They didn't understand you, they didn't appreciate you.
You weren't valued there, but he would make you shine even brighter, he would support you in every choice you made. All it took was a smile and a few sweet words, and poof, you would have had his heart open and beating in his bloody hands.
And one thing he could say about himself. That he loved volleyball like no one else ever would.
Yet this statement of his, which he would have sworn was true until that moment, had crumbled before him when you had played against him in what he thought would be the first of a series of normal physical education classes, on an extremely sunny summer day.
At first...
At first he was ashamed of it, he almost wanted to hit himself and pinch his cheeks at the thought of the sin he had committed in the past, but... he hadn't really noticed you until then.
Let him explain! Shoyo wasn't exactly the most popular guy with the female audience, and he wasn't... in the right frame of mind to have a sweetheart.
Volleyball came first, and everything else came second, so he didn't worry about looking as attractive as possible. That was him, he didn't feel he had to pretend to be something else, it didn't seem right to him or to the people around him.
And sure, maybe he vaguely remembered meeting you briefly during other classes... more boring and tiring ones, but the very first time you really hooked him around you was on an extremely sunny day in August.
It was a game like any other, a physical education class where they had set up a small friendly match between the class itself.
And he swore he felt his legs go weak, his mouth completely dry as you prowled around the field like a hyena, right up against him.
How could he not have noticed that cold, calculating look, that determination that made his lips tremble with excitement at the thought of having found someone on his level- someone with whom he could perhaps talk endlessly about the only thing he loved...
The only thing that mattered to him at that moment. With his arms outstretched- he had been put in as a libero because of his height and speed, but he could swear he no longer felt so angry about the situation, no.
He could only admire, with sparkles in his eyes, the way you seemed to scan the entire court in search of a single flaw, something that would allow you to score yet another point for your team.
He could see in the way you flexed your legs, in the way your face contorted in a sublime way that you cared even though it was just a friendly game- that despite everything, you were giving it your all even if your teammates couldn't or weren't interested in responding as quickly, often leading you to yell at them where to look and where to position themselves better.
It was no secret that they had chosen you as captain, and he couldn't help but wish he were there in the middle of the game with you, and not with Kageyama, who was extremely irritated by the increasingly distant victory.
He could see a tiny drop of sweat rolling down your forehead as your arm flexed upward-
Ah.
For a second, he looked down, noticing the small drops of red blood accumulating on his shirt, not before they had slipped onto his mouth and chin.
He licked his lip to moisten it, still dazed as you ran up to him like lightning and shook him gently with each word you spoke, not knowing whether to worry about the boy's absent expression.
“Hey! Can you hear me? Are you okay? Hey! He's not responding teacher...”
Yes, he could hear you perfectly well, and in fact he loved the sound of your voice, but what he loved even more were your warm hands -very warm hands, and slighly moisty from the workout- resting on his shoulders as you tried to get him to respond.
The fact was, he couldn't.
He couldn't utter a single word, too intoxicated by your beauty and everything he had seen before, that look on your face.
Was this what it felt like to be in love? He thought he had literally fallen in love at first sight.
He couldn't stop the huge smile spreading across his face. Although at first he wanted to hide like a thief, he quickly gave up on the feeling of warm embrace that he continued to feel as long as he had you near him.
And he had to say it, your face completely contorted with worry -whether it was because of his condition, because he was staring at you smiling, or because he wasn't saying anything, you didn't know-, it was something he knew he needed in his life.
He didn't want to see your worried face! Just your attention...
Yes, just that...
He felt light, he had felt extremely lighter even before when you helped him slowly get up from the ground- from which he didn't even remember falling down to his knees?
Was it perhaps the blood that kept flowing? He doubted it, he had had much worse injuries than this, and it wasn't even enough blood to worry him.
The only explanation was... you.
And maybe he could learn every single muscle in his face in the future- in fact, he knew he would. And as he continued to apologize, still smiling, you gave him a curious look.
You didn't know if it was because of the blow to his face, but you decided not to say anything considering his situation.
And this was something he repeated like a mantra, apologizing to you in turn as you accompanied him to the infirmary..
He repeated, Hinata wasn't exactly popular with girls, but maybe he could make some attempts to try to impress you besides following you around with that broken nose.
Well, that would have been fine for him, but as Tanaka and Nishoya yelled at him, that was not a good way to approach her at all. So it was not uncommon to find him listening enthusiastically to every single piece of advice and rule of love, absorbing their every word as if he were sitting in front of a television.
He had to use expensive cologne…? Was it really necessary? Maybe an equally good but less expensive version would have been a good choice. Flowers every time he saw you? Chocolate?
It didn't seem like it… but they were the experts in love, weren't they? Well, not exactly, but he doubted Kageyama would want to hear him rambling about the one who made his little heart beat faster.
And he had tried… only to discover fairly quickly that this wasn't exactly the right approach for someone like you-
And it was obvious.
You could never be like those girls those two had been with, you were different, you were literally his soul mate.
You loved volleyball like he did, you were kind and cute, you were smart and cared about your own things, going to any lengths to achieve your goals, how could he not fall in love with you?
Was he trying too hard? He saw how you were now being snatched up by your friends, how he couldn't find you at the gym anymore- a place you had religiously made your own until the ginger's constant presence-
Why was he suddenly finding himself more alone than before? Your presence was literally the fuel that got him up in the morning, along with the hope of seeing you first thing, so what was going on?
Weren't they… pushing you away from him?
No, you couldn't do that, you weren't that mean. No.
Even if... you definitely couldn't have stayed silent when something bad happened to Hinata. Accidents during training were frequent, after all.
He didn't always do it! He didn't like to see your stressed face, he wanted to enjoy every moment of good feelings with you, not bad ones!
Yet he couldn't help but feel that warm feeling of bliss when he hurt himself and you came to his rescue.
Those times he really hurt himself! He hadn't planned anything, he swore!
Even though he had become so accustomed to your comforting presence that when he hurt himself during one of his many training sessions with the team, he remained still, whimpering weakly, immersed in the uncomfortable silence of the gym.
And damn it! That's why he wanted to have much more time, he needed it- he just wanted to postpone your and his training sessions until later so you two could be together!
It would have been much better than rubbing his knee wound by himself, one moment snorting at his teammates' teasing… the next blushing like a schoolgirl at the memory of you kneeling down to patch him up with the gym's medical supplies.
The supplies were pretty poor, but good enough to hold out until you got to a pharmacy… And you would have gone back with him, wouldn't you?
After all, he had texted to you immediately about what had happened, and you… Perfect you, you improvised as a crutch for him as he limped with every step he took.
It didn't hurt. In fact, that wound was was something very superficial, but can a man enjoy a moment for as long as possible?
On your part, you would have gained nothing by helping him or not helping him. You suspected he was faking it a lot, but it wasn't anything extremely serious, so you would have let it go that time. Also because you saw him training every moment he wasn't with you, and he tended to hurt himself quite often.
Not to mention some minor disagreements that arose between him and Kageyama, often resulting in a few scratches.
So you had learned to get used to it and help him just as he had accustomed you to being pampered.
But Hinata wouldn't have known if he could have stood up for himself if you had gotten hurt- he trusted you and had a lot of faith in your abilities and best judjement.
He had seen you play, and you had played together and against each other several times, so he knew every single technique and move you tended to favor and, above all, what you tended to throw yourself into doing.
Because the moment he saw you hurt for the first time, he immediately screamed, throwing the ball away to come hovering above you, bombarding you repeatedly with every question that came to mind at that moment.
Which were many.
Please, don't let that be blood, he couldn't bear to see you hurt or see your face contorted with pain- and so he could do nothing but remain stuck between cursing himself for throwing the ball too far and the field itself for being complicit in your injuries-
Why you? You weren't to blame- you were just the poor victim of coincidences surrounding the two of you-
While you would have stood there looking at him bewildered by the excessiveness of his reaction, oscillating between being surprised by the speed with which he himself had risked scratches in order to reach out to you... and wondering if all his moaning was really necessary.
Wouldn't it have been better to go to the infirmary...?
NO, he absolutely could not carry you there on his back or in bridal style, you could very well walk on your own, your knee wasn't that badly injured, okay?
The vast majority of people already thought that you two had some kind of relationship beyond being normal companions, you didn't need that to cement it even more- something Shoyo was instead actively trying to.
Why were you taking longer to respond? Did you no longer want to make calls before going to sleep? Would you have preferred video calls or voice messages?
Maybe you were going to sleep earlier than usual… Yes, that was definitely it. And so the question arose… Was this a stressful time for you?
He knew exams were coming up, but he didn't think they were affecting you that much!
He would have helped you! A gamewas usually played with twelve players, but the two of you could have had fun too! And if you didn't feel like playing physically, then you could have talked about what you both loved!
Or he could have walked you home, and maybe your parents would have been kind enough to let him stay for dinner given the storm outside.
MAYBE even a completely casual stroll into a cute little shop, one of those that sold the kind of drinks and food he knew you loved… and maybe he would have paid for you, and maybe you would have looked at him with those bright eyes of yours, smiling kindly and thanking him with your soothing voice..
Oh- the possibilities would have been endless! And you would have accepted, wouldn't you?
You had no one else but him, right?
He trained with you, he loved you so much that he would have pushed everything away just to have you close…
He felt himself blushing from his stomach up to his ears- he imagined the future…
Together, of course.
A couple of athletes? Him as an athlete and volleyball player, and you perhaps a journalist? An interviewer? A coach?
How much he loved you—his heart was bursting, forgive this poor man.
He felt suffocated, now that he thought about it. And he wanted you to love him back.
But he could have waited.
Yes, he would have done anything to secure this life. Like everything else he loved in his life, you would have stayed with him, right?
Now come on, he's already waiting for you outside your house, rocking back and forth while humming a song that he thought you would definitely recognize.
Only you could describe the emotions and the intricate feelings that is love and adoration this well
Thank you so much! Y'all can only imagine how receiving this kind of feedback and compliments makes me feel! I am really grateful for you all, and to you!
𝐀𝐬𝐤: "I don’t know if you still use this account to write but if you still do, could you write some more yandere tpn x MC pls?" [yandere Ray x mc] [yandere Norman x mc] [yandere Emma x mc]
𝐀𝐕𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐙𝐄: GN READER, yandere content. Anyways, since they are kids in both the manga and the anime, the mc will be aged consequentially. I do not intend to make this too dark, as we're talking about literal kids, and i hope i didn't make it weird (it was not my intention, i swear). This was a request from a lovely anon, thanks for requesting and for believing in this blog lol. I wanted to let you know that I didn't abandon this account! I don't write as much as I did a few years prior, but I still will absolutely write! So don't hesitate to ask! Also, there will be spoilers in all three parts about the anime and manga- but not too detailed. Enjoy!
-𝐑𝐚𝐲-
• Being one of the poor souls born into that hellish fate was clearly something no one deserved, least of all innocent children.
• That's how Ray saw it, and that's how he had always seen all the trash that consented to such a system. And being the only one who knew about Gracefield's dual nature, he couldn't help but at least try to save someone- someone who wasn't gripped by knowledge like his.
• And so, he used the little time he had been given to study the entire map of the building, to memorize every possible reaction of the mothers who had come before, to study large, dusty tomes- even at the cost of not really meeting anyone important except for three people in particular.
• And if Norman and Emma were just part of the friendly love he felt, then the only girl who really attracted him like a moth to your eyes was you.
• That being said, kindness and good management of emotions are not Ray's specialty. He isn't in tune with his emotions, let alone knew how to deal with the growing affection he felt for your kindness, thus imperceptibly relying on you as he would have liked to do with a real mother.
• Sweet, kind you, always willing to take on a role that you couldn't even fully understand, a commitment that might have saved you, but that could also be temporary- as far as anyone knew.
• He genuinely trusted you, and he knew very well that you too had learned that beneath that bored face and taciturn voice lay nothing more than a child deeply burdened by things that no one should ever have to bear- you didn't see him as someone who...
• He felt capable of stopping being logical for a few minutes, an hour, or half an hour-the time you could afford between homework and tests.
• And how much he loved that delightful concern that exuded from your pores every night when you scolded him with a smile for sleeping at that hour, or when you sat next to him in moments of calm from every other child in the building.
• How much he longed for your warm, tight hugs, burying his cheeks in the soft fabric of your white shirt, your breath against his neck- as well as his against yours.
• How much he simply wanted to live a life with you, away from whatever that hell was, to live with you peacefully, to be able to fall asleep with you as if under that big tree- your tree.
• Studying quietly just to hear your voice reading animatedly to the circle of children around you two, using it as a sweet, welcome hum.
• Standing behind you with a neutral expression as he waited for you to finish cleaning up with the others, looking literally like the only disconnected piece in that whole room.
• And it didn't bother him, quite the contrary.
• If only it had been that easy to ignore the way your cheeks threatened to burst with redness and heat at your smile...
• And how could he avoid that warmth that blossomed in his chest when you offer -you, so kind and charitable- to help some child younger than you?
• Not like he did, not for some ulterior motive as he was willing to do for Isabella, no.
• Maybe because you loved to see that sparkle of happiness in other people's eyes when they finally succeeded in their little endeavors, maybe because you liked being needed, maybe because of genuine childlike kindness.
• And that was everything he loved and hated about you at the same time.
• Maybe his mother had already noticed it, maybe he was right to keep his feelings to himself—maybe Isabella still didn't know the true lengths Ray was willing to go to in order to keep you safe.
• How could he even think of not including you in his plan?
• Just imagine Norman, Emma, him, and you, escaped from that hell.
• But he knew better than anyone that you would only refuse his offer- leave all those innocent children at the mercy of demons?
• It didn't sound like you at all, and it kept him awake at night even more, slowly planning a possible parallel route for your escape- whether you used it for the others was your decision.
• Ray would have no problems using lies, tricks, and the like for his agenda- to at least make sure you three get saved. Look at the situation, it could go wrong, right?
• Or, it can be a way- a way no child had ever made.
• He could just take you while you sleep, it wouldn't be too hard to create some kind of soporific smoke... lime chloride and water, with a little alcohol, and heat it up.
• Really, he could and would do anything to get you out of that situation.
• What did they say to the children who didn't want to leave the orphanage? That they were just being stubborn, that they knew best, that they were the adults— and as such, the final decisions would be theirs, whether the children liked it or not.
• Maybe he could push you?
• Make you understand that leaving the orphanage wasn't even a choice, but an obligation if you wanted to survive-
• But this would mean he would also stoop pretty low.
• And really, how much he hated your insistence on that point- they couldn't save everyone.
• But, of course, he couldn't count on convincing your dear nature on his own, no. If he really wanted it to happen, he would need help—precisely from those who would be your dear companions in escape, no?
• And during the escape, you would have been glued to his side every second, making sure you didn't get lost in the crowd of children they were carrying with them.
• He absolutely did not want to have to retrace those dangerous roads with all those vulnerable people, and certainly not put you in danger—so he had expressly ordered both Emma and Don to make sure that no one moved too noisily or strayed.
• If it had been up to him, he would never have trusted those two demons who had offered to help them, never in a million years—but both you and Emma had unfortunately turned against him, leading him to make the reluctant choice to trust them.
• You trusted others too much, didn't you? How could you still not understand that you shouldn't be so naive towards strangers? That no one is truly 100% kind, and that at best you would survive—
• No. As long as you stayed with him, you would survive. He was certain and determined of that.
• You could always help, couldn't you? They would need someone to take care of their belongings when they were away, wouldn't they? Maybe you and Emma, or you and Norman.
• Or better yet, you and Ray. Even in a miserable world, the four of you would have found a balance, like a real family.
-𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧-
• Oh, dear Norman. Always perfectly calm and serene on the outside, with a smile always on his face. No one would expect him to be the mastermind willing to do the worst things to make sure everything goes according to his plans.
• Always calculating, he would have every single interaction with every person in the orphanage already planned based on their personality and past behavior.
• Not that he didn't like the spontaneity of something less planned, on the contrary, that was a very welcome breath of fresh air when it came from you.
• Knowing you like the back of his hand, he could say almost proudly that he had literally filed you away better than anyone else in that terrible place.
• Why wouldn't he know everything about his crush? What kind of person would he be if he didn't know what made you smile and what made you curl up at night, the fear of underestimating a situation or disappointing your mother or someone close to you- even, he hoped, him.
• Yet this gratuitous benevolence was what led you to be extremely alert to everyone's needs, wasn't it? And didn't that lead you to have to bear an emotional—and often physical— burden that often prevented you from feeling good?
• He could very well say that, beneath all the reassurances you gave him every day, you were beginning to doubt.
• Did you really seem so tired?
• Did you really need to get away from others for a while?
• Norman would never have cared about anything other than your safety and well-being, right? So those strategically placed comments were nothing more than something that, over time, began to slowly erode you.
• After all, his pretty face didn't come alone; paired with it and rivaling it was his enormous intellect, which was always at work.
• Escape from that hell? Absolutely, it was one of the top priorities.
• How could he live a good life without doing this?
• And now he was very close to getting you to see the situation as he saw it—as it really was. A life-or-death situation, where your choice and theirs would be imminent.
• And if you were chosen so soon compared to the plans...
• He had to hurry.
• This was what he didn't like about life at all, that despite his calculations, a simple variable would ruin everything—destroying everything he had built in advance.
• But he wasn't extremely concerned about the relationship between you and him; in fact, he was quite confident about that. Because everything was working out pretty well.
• Well, yes, helping others was certainly rewarding, but you were just a child. You couldn't take on a job that belonged to mothers.
• You deserved to play, eat, and read with him, Ray, and Emma, too, don't you think?
• And what else could you have done? Norman was always so calm, so generous and kind to you... Did he really love you so much that he could say to your face what other children couldn't? You understood that they were always younger than you, but... it was strangely comforting not to have to worry about always showing your best side to others.
• With Norman, you could pretend, but it would fail immediately when at lunch he would ask the child who had been bullying you all morning, in his eyes, to let you rest and go to Isabella instead, who would surely be more than happy to help him with his problems.
• And he would have smiled happily at the relieved expression in his eyes as you turned briefly to say goodbye to the little boy—finally allowing you to give attention to the three of them.
• And it wasn't about sacrificing himself for you- but he never wanted to get to that point. If he could, he would want to live with you for the rest of his life, together with his two friends. But if he had to make a final choice, he would rather die with the thought of an adult version of you alive than live with a gnawing regret for the rest of his life.
• He knew the two better than anyone else, and he knew that, if necessary, they would be able to keep you safe together.
• And on that day, the day of selection, not a single tear could escape your gaze as you cried silently, hugging Emma to prevent Isabella from seeing you.
• But a mind like Norman's couldn't be wasted as mere food, could it?
• And so Norman continued to spend his days at the facility, completely enclosed from the outside world, and guarded at every turn—something highly futile and useless, in his opinion. His motivation to escape was all the result of something simple: from wanting to reunite with Emma, Ray, and his family—you. And in those moments, his feelings channeled more and more into his heart, rooting themselves even deeper than before.
• He couldn't help but think obsessively about your health, your condition, hoping every day that all three of you were alive and in a safe place at that moment.
• He had done everything he could, and until he returned, you would be in their hands—yet the feeling of dread grew every day, forcing him to bite his nails, be more vigilant, and adamant in his escape.
• He would be reunited with you, he would and will.
• He would find you. And he knew that what came next would be even worse, but he was ready to fight tooth and nail alongside you—
• All to stay alive, to be reunited.
-𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐚-
• If anyone were to try to describe the girl, one of the many adjectives would be altruistic.
• And how could you not say so? The way she ran around for the common good… Always available and up for a game of anything, kindly teaching… She was simply the heart and soul of the orphanage, which without her would have lost a fundamental piece.
• So how could she not find herself kindred with a soul like yours? The opposite would have been very strange, to be honest.
• And of course, you would be even more connected by what life was like there: discovering that you were simply food for demons was definitely not something a child would want to find out.
• They should be thinking about coloring pictures, imagining and singing, not fighting against fate to avoid being chosen for that purpose.
• So why on earth would he even think of leaving anyone behind? Now that he knew, how could he abandon innocent children to certain death? How could he implicitly kill someone?
• No, he absolutely couldn't do that. And he would have strongly opposed Ray's opinion, who had considered leaving everyone except the two of them.
• But she couldn't. Not only because Ray wanted to literally save three people out of an entire institution, but because how could she forget you?
• So, against the advice of the two children, she would take your side one afternoon while you were happily pushing Don, who was giggling happily with every swing of the swing.
• And her smile would have widened when, after explaining everything to you—remaining strangely solemn and serious throughout the entire conversation, not wanting to scare you any more than she already was- you smiled back at her. And trembling, telling her that you were on her side, having long since sensed the reality behind all this.
• As much as you loved reading, you couldn't help but notice the strange dots strategically placed on the pages, trying to decode them and finally coming very close to a possible solution.
• And that was only confirmation of your doubts. That no one could be left behind, just as she said.
• And after that, she had no more reason to hold back. Every moment she spent with you, planning the escape in every detail together with the three of them, she would be by your side.
• Comforting you with tight hugs when you cried at the pessimistic thought of total failure, laughing at jokes, serious about implementing the plan.
• She would never leave you alone. You were the very first person she would visit enthusiastically in the morning and the last she would say goodbye to before going to sleep—often intertwining her fingers with yours as you slept close together.
• Initially, your involvement was nothing more than an extra calculation for Norman and an extra burden for Ray, but slowly you blended well together—though not as well as you did with Emma, who was slowly binding you closer and closer to her.
• And how could you not? She was the only girl you could talk to about what you really thought, with whom you could have a deeper relationship than with the others.
• But when, to her horror, you were chosen as the demons' next meal, the only thing she could do was collapse at her feet—which she would have done if it weren't for Norman holding her back, afraid of blowing their cover with a suspicious reaction.
• And she would have begged the two of them to help her, to lie, to do whatever they could to avoid taking you away.
• She would have saved you, and the days were drawing closer, until finally, Ray would set the farm on fire, thus beginning the escape.
• So, almost entirely naturally, you were delayed by a sudden fever that had struck you in the middle of the night. Emma would have stayed close to you, internally exploding with happiness -since they had found a way to delay everything- and terror -because they would have to speed up their plans immensely.
Every time the mothers were nearby, she would make sure to ask you how you were doing, and you, playing along, would reply that you felt sick, that you felt like you were burning with every breath.
• Emma would have no reason to stop when she came between you and someone like Mom, insisting that you were just playing with dots instead of teaching the other children a secret way of communicating.
• Lying was just a means to an end, as it was running away. They were almost the same thing, weren't they? If they had to break a few rules to live, then she could break a few truths to have you close for a little longer, a few more minutes—even before coming out of hiding once you escaped.
• She loved you gently, purely, and with all her heart, and she would have done anything to make sure you lived- asking for the help of everyone she knew. And who whouldn't help her after all?
• She always did help others, so why shouldn't they now? When she was so scared?
• She loved you gently, purely, and with all her heart, and she would have done anything to make sure you lived. Just, hug her for tonight, kay?
𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: How many fantasies and little idles did it take? Too many, apaprently. [ Mc x Yandere Malleus]
𝐀𝐕𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐙𝐄: FEM READER. Well, i had this in my drafts for a LONG time, and fun fact, this came out from one single line i forgot to put in another malleus fic- and then it evolved in this yandere-ish angsty little drabble. So this was completely unplanned, aaand i kinda ended up using this account all this time just for reading, forgetting i also write lmao 😭. Anyways, even if the yan content is mild for my caliber (even IF i do love soft-yanderes), I do not condone these acts, nor will I ever want someone to be in this situation, and if you are, you can always call someone. You are not alone, no matter what they might say. Also, I recieved an ask I'm working on, dw, it should be out in some time. Also BC I'm stopping for a sec to write the biggest and chonkiest fic about demon slayer on Quotev, and I'm taking some time cuz yeah. I'm sorry, I'm sleepy. That said, enjoyy!
How many..
Huh, what a question.
How many times had he had the pleasure of meeting and dealing with nobles adorned with the finest and purest things a man could know, embellished with silver necklaces, heavy rings cursed by time, adorning their bodies with jewels so that they could distract and attract people to the alluring sparkle of the gems rather than focus on the interior that was slowly rotting and decaying; hiding every intention, every malice deep down, wearing different masks every day depending on who would have the misfortune of being near them that day, whose stench of decay went far beyond those masks, canceling itself out so that no one could escape them. In an eternal waltz of lies and betrayals.
How many times did he witness the sweetest, smoothest, and most graceful words, so comforting and tempting, spoken by souls so corrupt and scattered that they continued to sully your name with their malicious gossip.
How many times did he have to intimidate -even though he hated being feared since his school days; in fact, the feeling of emptiness was what he had always feared and hated… But for you, he would have done this and more, he would have condemned men and women for your loving and wonderful gaze. He would have condemned himself to be isolated from everything and everyone, except you, of course. You should have stayed with him. You should have been with him on that lonely throne, a wealth emptied of its value, emptied of its true meaning.
How many times would he have humiliated the senators with his sharp tongue, so bitter and greedy for something he knew would never return and had never even existed. All because he wanted to marry you instead of some fae from an equally useless family. A purity stained with innocent blood, a crown of flesh.
How many times had he ignored a people so unbearably intolerant of a human, especially the one human who, among all those fae, had managed to stand out, who had managed to do what no one had ever managed to do for hundreds of years.
How many times had he dreamed of holding you in his arms, rocking you into the deepest sleep, exploring with his cold hand the sweetest dreams he could offer you. Of loving every inch of your skin until you were so sensitive that you could do nothing but whisper his name with that airiness he so desperately wanted to hear from you. To touch you, to love you in a way that no one else could ever do. To kiss you, to soothe the suffocating heat in his mouth with yours, cooling it in ways he never thought possible. He wanted to sink his cold fingers so deeply into your soft skin, while his mind argued about whether or not he wanted to see physical evidence on your beautiful flesh.
How many times had he dreamed of taking you in his arms, so smiling as he joyfully accepted to take you as his bride, as spouses -which he had always wanted to be, finally finding his perfect half, finally being filled with something that made him cry with overflowing joy- his cold hands on the soft fabric that enveloped your body, lifting you up to his ethereal face. Too beautiful to be purely human.
How many times had he wanted to kiss your inviting, beautiful, perfect, alluring lips so conflictedly, simply to satisfy a momentary urge. To cover your mouth with his taste, with his own, so that it would live on your skin. To hold your burning cheeks in his hands, so perfect in contrast to you, to slowly and gently bring you closer to his green-painted lips, to feel your heavy breathing against his, even heavier with youthful impatience.
How many times had he woken up at night, his hair scattered across his face, clenching his fists against the innocent sheets, reluctantly discovering the absence of your warm body around his, his flesh becoming one with yours.
How many times he would have liked to laugh together with his and your children—so beautiful, so perfect, with hair and features similar to yours, but horns and fangs like his. A perfect blend of you and him, a balance he could only see fulfilled in those little eggs that were yet to hatch- how many times he would have wanted to profess his infinite love- so infinite yet confined in a finite body, of living, bleeding flesh- to shower you with words so sweet that the greatest poets would have paled and run away with their works if they had heard what he truly felt.
How many times had hot tears streaked down his cheeks, equally hot with pain.
How many times did he find himself staring blankly at the immense corridors, so large and too empty even for a being as powerful and strong as him, his hands clenched on your room.
How many times would he have wanted to find himself having to calm you down during the night, because of a harrowing nightmare about your family and your lost life, or during the day because of an argument with a woman who was decidedly more haughty than she should have been when speaking to a queen like you. His wife… and how he loved that word on his tongue, it rolled so well, every syllable perfectly suited to his fanged mouth.
How many times had he wanted to drink your tears, bathe in your blood, live in your heart in its entirety because being close to you was not enough for him.
How many times had he had to get angry with that incompetent Crowley to get him to at least give him the clothes you had worn before you left, simply abandoning him despite everything you had done for him, despite every moment spent with him caressing his arm in a sincere embrace, despite what you had been through at Nobell College, those flames-
And that little man who thought he could actually fix things with you, not knowing that the figure lying with you in your bed was his, not knowing that your heart was simply destined to belong to someone else who wasn't that silver-haired Frenchman. He had nothing against him, the grudges had ceased about a year ago, but the mere thought made him want to take you back in his arms and shake you until you were so damn dizzy that you could do nothing but giggle as he loved to hear you do.
It always made him smile, just the way you were. Yourself, without hiding things from him, without pretending you weren't afraid of him.
Yet how could you have done it?
How many times did he stare tearfully at the glass in his private room, seeing you smiling on the other side as you got ready for a new day.
How many times had he had to watch you lower yourself just enough to disappear from his view, only to hold a small human being in your arms. Similar to you, yes, perfect in this case, but different nontherless.
How many times had he torn his clothes in despair at seeing you move on, while he was forced to watch you live every day with someone who was not him. Loving, living, kissing, sharing your flesh with that other person instead of with him.
How many times had he dreamed that you would stay with him instead of returning to an empty world, a completely useless world- considering your absence near him, your place that he had so jealously held next to his throne. And not as a simple queen, a mere pawn of something much greater than herself, but as his wife.
As his beloved, as his heart and soul itself, as the fire of his breath and the blood of his flesh, much more than a body and less than an angel.
Simply because those would be unattainable while alive.
So you weren't something that was simply divine, it would have been too easy and too reductive to round everything about you down to a mere divine encounter- no.
You were.. you.
Human, thriving, perfectly you, something he could never have experienced in all those years of agony that were his life—not since you chose to return.
Home, you said.
Wasn't he enough? He said.
Lilia? He was gone, nothing more than fond memories of a general who, having retired, had passed away in one of the most peaceful ways possible. And he remembered those words with bitterness. Lilia often used to play on a similar possibility—a general, a veteran who dies peacefully, even though he killed who knows how many humans and non-humans?
It would seem like a joke, yet he was gone.
Sebek? He was still at court as his grand guard after the gate Lila succumbed to, but for some time now he had been taking short leaves of absence from his work to visit his family, which was growing larger year after year.
Silver? That boy he remembered having such youthful and delicate features was beginning to fade with each passing decade, his skin falling away with barely visible wrinkles, his eyes tired but proud as he watched the new recruits train against him.
And you? You now sat in an old rocking chair, perennial wrinkles scarring your face, your skin stained by the sun and the years. Yet you laughed, your eyes never ceasing to smile.
And he could only watch from that mirror, the change that had not even scratched that broken horn.
Even your coffee always spills at the worst possible moment.
But then… he appears.
A man with soft, feathered wings and a halo—Sunday, your newly assigned guardian angel.
"The celestial council has reviewed your past life," he murmurs, "You were a soul of pure kindness. And now, in this life, you’ve been given misfortune as a test."
His fingers brush your cheek, "But don’t worry. I’m here to guide you."
You should feel relieved. But...
Now, he’s sitting across from you at a café, dabbing at his stained white robes with a napkin while giving you a pained but patient smile.
"Okay, let me get this straight. You’re an angel. From Heaven. And you’re here to… what, fix my life?"
"Precisely! Consider me your divine guardian—"
"Uh-huh. And how much is this ‘heavenly guidance package’ gonna cost me?"
"I would never—! This is a sacred duty, not some… earthly pyramid scheme!"
You take a long sip of your (third) coffee, squinting. "Prove it."
Without missing a beat, he plucks a feather from his wing and offers it to you. "A token of my sincerity."
You grab it—then yelp as it bursts into golden sparkles in your palm.
"Okay, that was cool. But I still think you’re either a hallucination or a really dedicated cult recruiter."
You wake up the next morning to find your broken phone fully charged, your dead plant thriving, and your cat suddenly fluent in Latin ??
"…Did you just say ‘ave dominus’?"
"Meow."
Then, Sunday materialized just behind you.
"Ah! I see you’ve noticed my small blessings!"
"Dude! Do you have to pop up like a jump scare?!"
"Apologies. I forget earthly beings are so… fragile."
----
You’re on a terrible date (third one this month—curse your bad luck) when Sunday manifests in the restaurant’s chandelier, glaring daggers at your oblivious companion.
"So, I think splitting the bill is only fair—"
"HERETIC."
"SUNDAY. NO."
"Uh… did you just say ‘Sunday’?"
"Yep! Gotta go! Bye!"
Outside, Sunday floats beside you, pouting. "That man was unworthy of you."
"Yeah, well, possessing the lighting fixtures isn’t gonna help!"
"But you did leave with me."
"Oh my god—"
----
At first, you thought it was all some elaborate joke—or worse, a scam. A literal angel showing up in your life? Yeah, right.
But after weeks of inexplicable blessings: your rent mysteriously paid, your chronic back pain vanishing overnight, even your perpetually dying houseplants suddenly flourishing... You finally gave in.
"Fine," you muttered one evening, throwing your hands up as Sunday hovered expectantly by your window. "You can stay. But no more weird angel stuff, okay?"
"I shall adhere to your mortal customs... within reason."
You set boundaries, of course. You weren’t religious, and the idea of divine intervention still made you uneasy. But Sunday was... different. He wasn’t preachy or holier-than-thou. He was just... there.
You kept your distance, treating him more like an overly affectionate roommate than a celestial being. He respected your space, though his presence lingered in small ways—freshly brewed tea waiting when you woke up, your favorite snacks restocked before you even realized they were gone, and an unsettlingly perfect knowledge of your schedule.
"You don’t have to do all this" you told him once, frowning at the spotless kitchen.
"But I want to" he replied, "Your happiness is my purpose."
You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you just nodded awkwardly and went about your day.
Then came the day you almost died.
Tires shrieked against asphalt as headlights flooded your vision—too bright. Your coffee cup slipped from numb fingers, hitting the pavement in a burst of scalding liquid. The truck’s grille filled your entire field of view, chrome gleaming like a predator’s smile.
You had half a second to think: This is how I die.
You gasped, blinking as you found yourself standing safely on the sidewalk, Sunday’s arms wrapped tightly around you. His wings were fully unfurled, casting an eerie glow in the dim streetlights.
The sound of screeching metal filled the air as the truck crashed into the guardrail right where your car should have been.
Your legs gave out.
Sunday caught you before you hit the ground, cradling you against his chest.
The warmth of the milk cup seeped into your fingers as you sat curled up on the couch, the near-death experience still fresh in your mind. Sunday sat across from you, his wings now neatly folded behind him, his golden eyes watching you with quiet intensity.
The silence stretched, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable.
----
You both returned home after that.
You took a slow sip of your warm cup of milk, then finally spoke.
"So… when are you leaving?"
Sunday blinked, as if the question had never occurred to him. "Leaving?"
"Yeah. Like, is there an expiration date on this guardian angel gig? Do you get reassigned? Or do you just… vanish one day when Heaven decides I’ve had enough blessings?"
"Oh, you misunderstand. I’m not here on a temporary assignment."
"So… you’re stuck with me forever?"
"Not stuck," he corrected gently. "Chosen. My presence isn’t bound by time. I stay as long as you need me."
"Which is…?"
"However long that may be. Perhaps a lifetime. Perhaps longer."
"Okay, next question," you said, shifting topics before your brain could spiral. "Do other angels do this? Just… move in with humans and fix their Wi-Fi and scare off bad dates?"
Sunday tilted his head. "Some do, in their own ways. But most guardians are subtler. They prefer signs, whispers, the occasional miracle. I, however…" He gestured to himself, wings and all. "I believe in a more hands-on approach."
"No kidding." you muttered.
"Besides," he added, "you’re special."
You ignored the way your face warmed at that.
"Last question," you said, pointing at his robes. "Heaven’s got, like, upgrades, right? You guys aren’t all harps and scrolls up there?"
Sunday laughed in a rich, melodic sound. "Oh, we’re quite modern. Cloud computing is literally cloud-based. The Pearly Gates have biometric scanning. And the angels in charge of mortal affairs? They love spreadsheets."
You nearly choked on your milk. "Are you serious?"
"Deadly." He leaned forward, mischief dancing in his gaze. "Would you like to see my divine tablet? I have an app that tracks prayer requests in real time."
You stared. "…You’re joking."
He pulled out a sleek, glowing device from thin air.
"Nope."
As the night wore on, you learned more than you ever expected:
Angels have hobbies. Sunday’s was composing hymns… and binge-watching human dramas.
They adapt to human culture. He preferred loose sweaters over robes at home ("More comfortable for lounging") and had strong opinions about coffee brands.
Heaven does have WiFi. ("But the connection in the mortal realm is terrible.")
At first, you had to remind yourself constantly: Sunday is invisible to everyone else.
You’d catch yourself mid-conversation in public, only to bite your tongue when strangers shot you weird looks. You learned to text him instead of speaking out loud, to nudge him under the table when he laughed too loudly at a restaurant, to pretend you were on a phone call when he whispered warnings in your ear.
But slowly… you stopped caring.
Because Sunday wasn’t just your guardian angel anymore.
He was your best friend.
You’d wake up to find him humming hymns while making breakfast, his wings brushing against the ceiling.
He’d sit beside you on the couch, scrolling through memes on his divine tablet and snickering at cat videos.
When you had nightmares, he’d stroke your hair until you fell back asleep, murmuring, "I’m here."
You started looking forward to coming home—to his warmth, his laughter, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you.
----
One evening, as you lounged together, Sunday suddenly went still.
"There’s something I need to tell you."
You tensed. That tone never meant anything good.
"You weren’t just randomly assigned to me," he admitted. "You… you’re not entirely mortal."
"What?"
"Your soul—it’s different. " His fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. "That’s why I was sent. Not just to protect you, but to… prepare you."
"Prepare me for what?"
He hesitated. "One day, you’ll have to decide—stay human, or ascend."
All this time… he’d known.
And he never told you.
"So what, this was all just a mission to you? All the—the tea, the jokes, the saving my life—just part of the job?"
Sunday’s expression shattered. "No. Never." He reached for you, but you flinched away. "I was supposed to guide you, yes, but my feelings—my devotion—that’s real."
"Then why hide the truth?"
"Because I was afraid!" The raw desperation in his voice stunned you. "Afraid you’d hate me. Afraid… you’d choose to leave."
You stared at him.
And yet…
You still didn’t know if you could trust him.
You needed time.
So you did the only thing you could—you walked away.
And Sunday, for once, didn’t follow.
At first, you told yourself it was fine.
But then…
Your coffee went cold because he wasn’t there to reheat it with a touch.
Your nightmares returned, and there were no gentle hands to soothe you.
The apartment felt wrong—too quiet, like the world itself had dimmed.
And worst of all?
You missed him.
Meanwhile, in Heaven…
Sunday stood before the Celestial Council.
"Remove their name from the records," he demanded, "They don’t belong in this trial."
The council murmured amongst themselves.
"The choice was never yours to make, Sunday."
"You would fall for them?"
Sunday didn’t hesitate.
"Yes."
Three days passed.
Then, on the fourth morning, you woke to the scent of fresh tea and the sound of rustling wings.
Sunday stood at the foot of your bed, his form flickering—like a star about to burn out.
You sat up, "You… you look terrible."
And he did. His glow was dim, his wings frayed at the edges. But his smile was the same.
"I had to see you one last time." he whispered.
"What do you mean, last time?"
"I made a choice. You won’t have to."
And then—
He began to fade.
For weeks, you searched.
You screamed his name into the empty air. You prayed—something you’d never done before. You even tried to bargain with the universe.
"Bring him back. Please."
Until—
It was a rainy afternoon when you saw him.
A man sitting by the window, his eyes scanning the street with an expression so achingly familiar it stole your breath.
But he wasn’t Sunday.
Not quite.
No halo. Just a human—or something close to it—with a faint, lingering glow at the edges of his silhouette.
Your feet moved before your brain could catch up.
You stood in front of him.
He looked up.
"Do I… know you?"
It was him.
And he didn’t remember.
You smiled politely at the stranger with golden eyes, exchanged a few meaningless pleasantries, and walked away.
What else could you do?
He didn’t remember you.
And maybe… that was for the best.
----
That night, he dreamed. Visions of a life he never lived flickered behind his eyelids—a celestial choir, a mortal with your face, the weight of devotion so fierce it burned like holy fire.
He woke gasping, fingers clutching at his chest.
And then—
His voice.
"You loved them enough to fall," whispered the shadow of his former self in the mirror. "Are you really going to let them walk away?"
Piece by piece, the memories returned.
The way you used to scowl at him for hovering too close.
The sound of your laughter when he tried (and failed) to understand mortal slang.
The betrayal in your eyes when he told you the truth.
And worst of all—
The way you looked at him in the café.
Like he was nothing.
Like Sunday had never existed.
-----
He found you again on a stormy evening, standing at your doorstep, drenched and desperate.
"You know me," he said, "Don’t you?"
You froze, keys slipping from your fingers as you tried to insert it to the keyhole.
This wasn’t the same man from the café.
"Sunday?"
"You remember."
"No," you lied, turning away. "I don’t."
The moment you lied—"I don’t know you"—something in Sunday snapped.
Before you could turn the key fully, his hands slammed against the door on either side of you, caging you in. His chest pressed against your back, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned in.
"Liar" he whispered.
His fingers curled into the wood, splintering it slightly as he spoke.
"I gave up everything for you," he hissed. "Heaven cast me out the moment I begged them to spare you from your fate."
His nose brushed against the nape of your neck, sending a traitorous shiver down your spine.
"And you dare pretend I never existed?"
Before you could react, his arms wrapped around you from behind, crushing you against him.
"I don’t regret it," he murmured, lips grazing your skin. "Even if Heaven abandons me forever, even if I have to claw my way through eternity alone—you will never be alone again."
He was no longer an angel.
At first, the changes were small.
Almost kind.
You used to wake up groggy, stumbling to the coffee maker like a half-dead thing. Now, there’s no need. Sunday is already there, pressing a steaming cup into your hands before your eyes even fully open.
"You function better with caffeine before seven," he murmurs, "I’ve timed it perfectly."
He learns your preferences down to the smallest detail. The way you prefer your eggs (soft-scrambled, no pepper). The exact number of seconds you like your toast browned.
(You try not to wonder what else he’s memorized.)
This is where it gets dangerous.
You mention offhand that you don’t like your coworker. The next day, they transfer departments.
You sigh about the noisy neighbors. That night, their apartment goes mysteriously silent.
"Sunday," you say slowly, "are you—?"
"Making your life easier?" He tilts his head, innocent. "Of course. That’s my purpose."
(He doesn’t mention the blood on his hands. You don’t ask.)
Then comes the night you catch him editing your journal.
You freeze in the doorway, watching as his fingers glow faintly over your open notebook—words rewriting themselves under his touch.
"What are you doing?"
Sunday doesn’t startle. He just turns, smiling beatifically.
"Fixing it," he says, as if it’s obvious. "You were too hard on yourself here. And this memory?" He taps a page. "It hurt you. Now it won’t."
"That’s not your choice."
For the first time, his smile falters.
"Isn’t it?" He stands, stepping closer. "Who knows you better than me? Who loves you more?"
His hand cups your cheek.
"Let me perfect you."
You wake up one morning with a gap in your memory.
A childhood birthday party—except now, when you try to recall it, there’s a new figure standing beside you in every photo.
A boy with golden eyes.
That’s not how you remember it.
That time you failed your driving test? Erased. Now it’s Sunday in the passenger seat, guiding your hands on the wheel. "Perfect" he praises.
The funeral you barely survived? Rewritten. He’s there, holding you up, taking the pain away.
You clutch your head, dizzy.
"This isn’t real."
Sunday smiles, stroking your hair.
"Isn’t it better this way?"
You remember now—the truth.
The day you almost died in that car crash.
How Sunday didn’t just save you.
How he leaned over your bleeding body and whispered:
Gaza lives under immense challenges, yet its people prove day by day that hope never fades. Families lose their homes, and children carry great dreams in their eyes despite all the suffering. These heroes teach us the meaning of resilience and sacrifice. 💪❤️
We must not forget that every image we receive from there carries a deep human story. They deserve our voice and support, and we must be part of changing their reality. Let us raise our voices for justice and peace, affirming that their unity and resilience are not alone, but part of a larger human struggle. 🌍✊
Let us stand with Gaza, making every message a symbol of hope and every action an expression of our solidarity. They are not alone, and we are here for them. 🙏
With warm regards
---
I hope this helps a bit, I'm so sorry for your condition and I pray that it will get better. Your people deserve so much more. Please stay safe 🕊️🍉🇵🇸
I am reaching out with a heart full of hope♥️ and desperation💔. My family is facing grave danger due to the ongoing war🍉, and we urgently need your help.🙏
Please, if you can, share our campaign on your account or consider making a donation🌹. Every share and every contribution can profoundly impact our lives during this critical time.
We are fighting to protect our children, women, and newborns from the horrors of war.
Here is the link to our campaign: [https://gofund.me/f44fadf8].🇵🇸
Thank you deeply for any support you can provide.
I feel so sorry for what you all are going through, I wish all the best for you, your family and your people. Stay safe🕊️🍉🍉🇵🇸
Hi,
I hope you're doing well.
I'm writing to you with a heavy heart and an urgent request for help. My family is in a very danger situation due to the ongoing war, and I've launched a GoFundMe campaign to save them.
Could you please reblog my campaign post from my profile? Each share could be a lifeline for my family. 🙏 Feel free to share it in any other social media platform if you would like.
Our campaign has been verified ⭐️ by operation olive branch, and is entry number 26 on their spreadsheet. Also with ⭐️ Project watermelon,line 249/(212) on their spreadsheet.
From the bottom of my heart I want to thank you in advance for all of your support and kindness.
Hello my dears! My name is Ahlam Hilles, I ask you to support my campaign to help me reach my goal. I am now in dire need of your support to help my family save them from the besieged and destroyed Gaza Strip. Gaza is a very dangerous place. I need your financial support to enable me to obtain the basic needs of my family until the Rafah crossing is reopened to transport my family to safety and peace. Please help the family survive their ordeal through your small donations or by sharing my campaign with your friends and others. Thank you very much for standing by those in need.
