nekovmancer

[nekovmancer]

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ♯𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ all my masterlists in one post

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ pick your poison

ㅤ⌕ㅤgravity falls ㅤ⌕ㅤoverwatch ㅤ⌕ㅤmcu

[nekovmancer]

[nekovmancer]

ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ♯𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤall my writings

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist under the cut .ᐟ

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ multichapter fics

⌕ Ford Pines

I love you, it's ruining my life one

[nekovmancer]

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ♯𝐌𝐂𝐔

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤall my writings

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist under the cut .ᐟ

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ oneshots listed by character

⌕ Otto Octavius

(not so) lonely nights  𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖! burning desire  𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖!

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ imagines listed by character

⌕ Norman Osborn

having a crush on norman, your best friend’s father

⌕ Otto Octavius

being jealous of otto dock ock leaving you 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓!

[nekovmancer]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ♯𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤall my writings ﹒all my headcanons

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist under the cut .ᐟ

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ oneshots listed by character

⌕ Ramattra

broken porcelain 𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑖-𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖! heartless 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓!

⌕ Gabriel Reyes/Reaper

do not make a sound 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖!

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ headcanons listed by character

⌕ Ramattra

how they say “I love you” relationship with a cyborg reader 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂! relationship with a tall reader 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖!

⌕ Cassidy

how they say “I love you” relationship with a social awkward reader

⌕ Reaper

how they say “I love you”

⌕ Reinhardt

how they say “I love you”

⌕ Hanzo

how they say “I love you”

⌕ Zenyatta

relationship with a cyborg reader 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂!

⌕ Mauga

relationship with a tall reader 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖!

⌕ Junkrat

relationship with a tall reader 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖!

⌕ Moira

as a mother figure

[nekovmancer]

I love you, it's ruining my life

bunch sad taylor swift lyrics always has me breaking my own heart writing fanfiction *sighs* guess this is my debut in the gf fandom as a writer !! hiiii

warnings: sfw, gn!reader, established relationship, language, angst

“You are the most terrible mistake I’ve ever made.”

The words still echo even when the sentence is already finished, growing faint as the seconds pass by but never fading at all; still on the back of your mind, replaying over and over again as if they were part of a broken record.

Once spoken, that fucking phrase couldn’t be swallowed back, less forgotten. God knows how long it would take for them to be gone for good, and not a haunting whisper to follow you through your worst nightmares; one of them now becoming reality.

But that’s not the beginning of your history with Ford. No, it's the end. 

Feels like carving the epitaph on a tombstone. In memory of a love which once lived greatly, now may rest forever in the cold embrace of death. Quote, the most terrible mistake I’ve ever made, unquote. Should you credit Ford Pines in the end? The motherfucker who just put the final nail on your coffin?

You wish you could tell him to shut the fuck up and leave you alone, pretending this won’t be anything but another stupid fight you will manage to forget tomorrow. Maybe you could’ve, if you weren’t too occupied with your hollow chest, asking yourself where did you heart go — or if it was too broken to even manage a last beat.

"What the hell did you just say?" you don't even have the energy to shout back at him. It all comes out in a whisper, one that is not enough to fit your anger; less your sadness. Sometimes, you've got to recognize a lost battle. Yet, this one changed the course of a whole fucking war, one you were exhausted to fight. 

So there you stood: the loser. Feeling small and insignificant as one of the particles of dust hovering in the thick air between you. The body count so far: your home, your engagement, your love, your heart. And the last thing you could ever lose, a loss to mourn for all of your days, was already slipping through your fingers.

Just one last battle to thrive: the tears threatening to flood through your eyes, which you were trying hard to keep for yourself. Ford does not deserve them, not anymore, not when he doesn’t show a single trace of remorse.

You knew he meant it, and that was the very reason it hurt so bad. Sometimes, retrieving the knife from the flesh just meant more pain. You should’ve let it there, rooting in between the bones of your ribcage instead of opening a fresh wound. 

"You've heard me quite well." 

Your throat goes sore, unspoken words scratching it, trying to climb out of your mouth. The last sparkle of a long gone flame lights up, enough fuel for you to bite back. "Right. So I am the mistake, while your freaking muse-"

Sadly, the great amount of bad words on the tip of your tongue didn’t have a chance to be spoken.

"Do not bring Bill into this again,” his words cut you off; more bleeding to stanch on the way.  Ford was responsible for the hollow inside of you, a quiet torment bursting out to destroy what was left from the previous catastrophes. Lies pouring from lips which once kissed you so dearly and now couldn’t even speak in your favor. “It was never about him, any of it."

"It's always about him!” frustration wins, and a restless tremble finds your fingers as the volume of your voice grows louder. It hurts to speak, to think — existence itself feels excruciating. Your last strings of hope were now cut, disappearing into nothingness. What’s left, you still don’t know. “There's no you and me, not anymore. Not without Bill, not without the portal.”

A shredded breath has your whole body shaking, your cue to remember breathing; unevenly as it may be, you still need it to survive, no matter how your frenetic heartbeat tells you’re going to the very opposite way. Whenever your anxiety hit such a peak, Ford would be the one by your side. Now, he was standing on the opposite corner of the room, staring at you as if you do not belong there.

In this, you both could agree. It’s been so long since you’re no longer part of his equation, but an unpleasant variable Stanford, the genius himself, can’t solve, which would end up better erased; long forgotten. 

“Fine,” you barely manage a mutter, rubbing your temples to ease off the ache pulsating through your skull. Someone could have hit you with a hammer and the pain would be softer. “Fiddleford is already gone, and now you want me out of the picture,” you capture your lower lip between your teeth, grazing the soft skin. The taste of blood somehow leaves your mouth less bitter, still not enough to stop you from actually being bitter. “Maybe it will give you and your triangle partner enough space to shove that stupid machine up your ass.”

He’s outraged, of course. Bill has become his everything, dethroning you from that spot you once thought was granted forever. How dare you speak so low of him? His muse, his mentor, his… fuck, to think of finishing this sentence is makes you nauseous. 

Storming out of the room with Ford hot on your trails, you let a few tears find their way out. It’s fine as long as he can’t see you crying, nor hear your strangled sobs under his own voice. You don’t want him to be a testimony to your misery any more. It’s terrible already the whole house seems to have eyes staring at you from every wall.

If Bill was actually watching, you can bet that fucking triangle is damn amused.

Your own thoughts are too loud for you to hear what Ford is saying, or best, vomiting at you. Yet, you can distinguish the screaming is there as you lead the way to what used to be your shared bedroom. 

God, when you’ve come this? 

The love of your life now inhabits the skin of a stranger, and you can’t bear his shit for longer than you already did. You could’ve endured anything for your Ford, but that wasn’t him. Where did he go? When did you lose him for good? But it’s a little too late to ask yourself these questions, and you know the damn answers already, so it’s pointless to keep the torture of knowing the truth.

You feel the urge to crash every small piece of triangular shaped decoration on your way. They are everywhere, in every damn corner, even in the pattern of the curtains when not resting upon the furniture — standing in the middle of your family pictures, among vases with dead flowers, a cemetery of memories from better times.

You stop your tracks for a while just to wander your eyes on some of them, lips trembling to conceive a faint smile at the sight of the portraits. One displays you and Ford outside a newly built shack, smiling from ear to ear as your faces are pressed together so tightly his glasses went crooked. If you squint your eyes enough, you can see a red blur in the bushes just behind you — a little gnome hiding just in time. 

Suddenly, it becomes harder to keep the tears away as reality hits you hard. Those times are gone, and nothing you could do would bring them back to you. 

“You don’t understand,” you can hear Stanford clear as day now, as if you had just emerged from underwater and abruptly became aware of your surroundings. Ford has been repeating this same bullshit nonstop from what? Weeks from now. Nedless to say you were fucking tired of such a nonsense accusation. “The work I’ devoted my life to is about to change the whole world for good and you can’t even-”

Your turn is so abrupt that Ford stops himself from finishing the sentence, swallowing a gasp. “Listen to me,” biting your lip to not curse at him, all of your strength is dealt into the final blow — more like a last resort. “You think Bill is about to make you someone as if I didn’t spend the last years seeing you as my fucking north already,” he’s a little taken aback by your sudden burst out, you can tell by the tip of his ears going pink. “I did everything for you, Stanford. Your dream, your house, your anomalies… and what the fuck you did to me in return? Not even bothering to sleep in the same bed as me for months?” shit, saying it aloud only made it sound more pathetic than it already was. “Or having the nerve to accuse me of not understanding you after everything I gave up to be with you in this shit hole of a city?” 

Ford's response was nothing but silence. Of course it was. What could he say on his behalf when you’re damn right? This time, though, you wish you didn’t.

But you waited for him to say something nonetheless. Anything would do, really. Worse than his rage, his hatred and the damn obsession for his muse was the indifference he has been meeting you with.

The meanings of you have been changed in his dictionary long ago. Did it matter now?

Every move of his was strategic, closer and closer to a checkmate — his dream coming true. And if you were to be sacrificed so he could win… well, a side effect. As long as his king was safe, pawns were pawns.

You’ve just taken too long to realise it.

“Don’t you think you can come crawling back to me after this,” it’s a statement more to yourself then to him; a reminder to not let him inside your heart again after all the damage Ford has done. “When your false god gets tired of toying with you, when your ego stops being enough to feed your delusion, I won’t come back to pick up whatever’s left.”

You stare at him — at Stanford’s eyes. He’s perfectly still, aside from the dramatic rise and fall of his chest with each deep breath he takes. While your eyes silently begged him to change his mind, to take back what he just said… his did not show any emotion but resolution.

Ford is a man of science. He would never affirm something with such a conviction if he wasn’t absolutely sure of it. And as it seemed, he thought of you as a mistake with certainty enough to say it out loud and keep his mind until the very last minute.

“Fine.”

So this is it. The end.

“Fine it is,” you wipe the tears away with the back of your hand, dampening the sleeves of the sweater you’re wearing; which is actually Ford’s. You debate whether to leave it behind or keep it with you while packing your things.

Ford doesn’t stay any longer after this. No goodbyes were said, and his last glance upon you earns a cold shiver running down your spine. You could’ve spitted right into his face and he would still be less mad than he was at the moment, thanks to your audacity of blaming Bill on the failure of your relationship. 

It’s not like Ford needed you, or anyone else at the matter. He had gifts you failed to comprehend, and a view where you were the one crawling back to him as soon as the portal was completed.

Delusion upon delusion… which of you were the worst?

You were left alone, but the whole house was watching silently — every triangle window had an eye of its own, and the dark corners somewhat got darker, casting enormous shadows around you.

Ford must be down at his lab, in the company of his muse… fuck, you don’t want to think of them and whatever they did when you’re not around. Which now would mean pretty much every time. 

It’s a bright summer day outside when you leave the shack, but not even the warmth of the sun seems to be sufficient to dispel the coldness clinging to your bones.

Your fingers are still trembling since the whole fight went out of track, and so they stood while you were folding your clothes slowly, still thinking that things would change by some miracle… and now, as you open the door to your car.

You tell yourself to not look back, and shit, it's not easy; especially when your own mind don't shut the fuck up. For the hours you spent wandering around the city, you leave the radio on the highest volume and keep the cool. You come and go until you’ve reached the "you’re leaving Gravity Falls" sign.

With nowhere else to go, you throw your engagement ring out of the window and speed up to God knows where. As long as it’s far, you suppose you’ll be fine.

[nekovmancer]

THE MYSTERY SHACK IS OPEN AND READY TO BRING AID TO THOSE IN GAZA. CLICK HERE FOR OUR SHOP!!

The big day is finally here! Thank you all for expressing your interest in the project leading up to this moment and for helping the cause. Preorders will remain open till January 15th. Announcement Art by @starryemeralds

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STAY WEIRD!✨ - The Mystery Twin Mystery Bags Team

[nekovmancer]

event in Shambali

also some additional doodles

[nekovmancer]

I haven't been able to find anyone write about Moira as a mother figure (even though she would probably just use you as a test subject if you saw her as one or something xd)

But if you do decide that you'd like to write about her as a mother figure to the reader then it's your choice if you wanna make it happy or sad. I just want something more than just daydreams to be entertained by. :]

hello, nonnie!

I must confess I don’t see Moira as a mother figure at all, and when I've come to think of it, nothing good emerged. So- ye, I’ve decided to take it more to the angst and based myself in Mother Gothel to come up with the plot.

Here it goes! Hope you like it and thanks for requesting.

[nekovmancer]

Mother knows best

Moira as a mother figure headcanons as requested here

warnings: sfw, gn!reader, language, angst, toxic mother and child relationships, maybe a bit of narcissistic mother eeecckk

Moira is not motherly in any sense. Ambitious is one way of describing her, cruel is another, and both of them are perfectly fitting

So here’s what she saw in you: potential, nothing else

An experiment to exploit the limits, a little naive specimen for her to test on; the craving for humanity evolution never fading

And there you were, foolish enough to mistake her care for her project as if she was caring for you

She could’ve nicknamed you her “bunny” if she was ever affectionate… but damn she wasn’t

The said bunny parallels, to begin with, were never meant to be cute, but to show how fragile you are, how easy and volatile to manipulate, discardable and replaceable if it ever went wrong

In her arms, you could delude yourself with a warm feeling of protection while being pushed closer and closer to danger

Still, you’d do anything for that woman’s love, even if it was only a simulacrum of it: a small, forged portion crafted especially to deceive you 

And with time, you have it. Not love as it was supposed to be, but a twisted form of it. One that didn’t not come with any nurturing, care or whatever

Her love wasn’t based truly on who you are, but on how you behaved towards her and what you meant to her projects

You were innocent, desperate, willing to do anything she told you to, no matter if it would be risky to your goddamn life. Who wouldn't risk their necks on the behalf of their mothers, at last?

And what did you ever ask in return? A pathetic emotion to fulfill your need for affection.

Hell, you’re an easy one to love, actually

How can someone not when a being is utterly devoted to every single want of theirs? A perfect doll to toy with, tossing from one side to the other, just because you feel like doing it; no other reason in particular

And the delight of having someone in such a way

A puppeteer pulling the strings of a marionette, guiding their every move. That would be the perfect description of your relationship, tiptoeing between the lines of power and devotion, poison and corruption… 

Now, what is love when it’s sick and infected with egoism? Possessiveness.

Moira doesn’t see you as her child, but if you like to see yourself as such, she’s not protesting. She does adore the idea of having you to herself; more of something than someone

Not in a romantic way, for sure. She couldn’t care less for such frivolities. But she played the part of your mother, your protector, even your mentor sometimes

And acted liked you were in fucking debt with her for it, when the efforts to give are all yours while she takes, and takes again, until there’s nothing but an empty vessel crawling to her 

Oh, and if you ever tried to do something not according to her expectations… or even to speak for yourself, to question her actions, her emotions (or the lack of them) 

Inadmissible.

“I’m your mother, remember?” despite the cutting tone to her voice, she would still come closer, cupping your face with a reassembly of affection. But Moira’s grip is too tight, too demanding. She always wants you staring right into her eyes, the windows of the soul. Sometimes, you could only sense a chilling cold of nothingness. “Don’t you think I know what’s best for you? For your safety?”

“The best”. Meaning she would lock you inside her lab and run exhaustive tests, one after another. If you succeed, you would mean the world to her for the next couple of weeks, but if you don’t… 

Whenever you grow tired of her, her experiments, her constant search for a cure to herself, even if it means dooming you, it’s like she can smell your discontentment; an animal who can sense fear longing in the air before they strike

“Who else will be there for you if not me?” her hands cradle your face, your shoulders… your neck. A gentle menace. “Why would you doubt my good will after everything I did to you?”

Maybe that’s why. The damn everything

"Stop thinking of such nonsense," the hint of annoyance would be enough to make you shiver. But instead, she throws you to the same old loop: doubting yourself. "I would never do anything to harm you in purpose."

Every word pouring out of her mouth is pure poison, you know it; she knows it

But you can’t fight: nor her, nor the tears that will eventually flood from your eyes as you rest your head against Moira’s shoulder and cry helplessly, clinging to her lab coat as every sob means a violent tremble of your body

After all, you only have her… 

[nekovmancer]

Do not make a sound

word count: 6139 sorry not sorry warnings: nsfw, gn!reader (afab), not fully proofread so ye, language, porn with a small plot, d in p, fingering, (kind of) public sex, implied cheating and infidelity, gabriel and his messy genetics (but we’ll use it in a sexy way), MINORS DNI !!   based on this request + AO3 mirror

It’s needless to say Cole began it all, the motherfucker. 

Despite your name doing fine, thanks, he insisted that you’d need an alter ego after joining Blackwatch, and did he had an extensive list of suggestions. Before you knew it, everyone was referring to you as the Whisperer. Ha ha, thanks Cole. Though it was indeed a fit since you’re not very familiar with the faces of your new division, meaning you’d stay quiet and observant most of the time and avoid any kind of eye contact, not to mention physical touch, even if it was a simple handshake… eek. 

Damn. You missed Amari’s late night teas and Reinhardt’s thunderous laugh filling the silent spaces you��d leave. If it wasn’t for Cassidy himself, you could’ve been working with a bunch of cold stones without being able to point a single difference. 

Time. All you needed was a little time to adjust, to get to know them better… and so you let it go by, reassuring yourself it would do the job to ease your nerves, and make your shyness slowly drift away. Needless to say the cowboy was your first acquaintance, followed by Genji, and even Moira became toralable, despite her side glances still being enough to make a freezing cold descend your spine bones. Everyone was… fine. Except for your commander. 

You would never understand Gabriel Reyes even if you tried. You knew little of him, and never felt like wanting more information on his infamous persona, because you’re sure the man despised you, and that was reason enough for you to never stand close and just follow his orders blindly during missions. To be honest, just now you came to understand why people claimed Morrison was so much better as a leader; as Reyes bossed people around, Jack guided them. The difference was glaring.

Yeah, you’re pretty petty about the man yourself, being quieter than usual whenever he was around and feeling tense if he spoke directly to you. But hey! Who could blame you? His handsome face was something already, but it was totally wrecked from the way he frowned and his lips twitched, every single kind of disdain showing up without a second thought. He could be tolerable, but he wasn’t, so why would you be the one making efforts alone?

“Boss just needs to be laid, I’m telling ya,” that was the regular response you’d earn for Cole whenever you voiced him your complaints; no different this time. And a puff of smoke right to your face, which was becoming rather enjoyable, fuck it. You don’t even scold him anymore, just let the scent fill your lungs as if it was some wicked sort of soothing incense. It could be kind of hot… if it wasn’t for your annoying friend being the one to do it. 

“Isn’t he married or something?”

Cole shrugged, inhaling the heavy smoke of his cigar before lazily diverting his sight to you with a grin, one that was enough to state that nothing good would leave his lips. But with that you’re used to: Cole languidly saying whatever shit he got in his mind. Maybe the reason why you felt so comfortable around him, knowing he would be the last person to be judgmental, and the first to say something stupid that would certainly make you laugh.

“Have you ever been married, darlin’?” he knows the answer, and you still lower your head before motioning it to indicate a no. There was no shame in not being in a stable relationship, right? Right? Thank God it wasn’t a question on how long you haven’t been laid. “If Reyes fucks his wife once in three months you can name me the pope.”

Your mouth falls agape, a strangled breath of pure disbelief leaving it before your incredulous chuckle found its way out. “If he ever heard you saying this shit…” 

“Saying what?” you freeze in spot, turning around to meet your commander’s, the devil himself, stern gaze. Cole didn’t seem bothered, but your wide eyes were enough proof of your guilt. “Would the two knuckleheads cut off the useless chit chatting for once? We got work to do.”

“Sorry, boss,” Cole tapped his index finger on the cigar, leaving a trail of ashes behind him as the fire ceased, one last blow of smoke hitting your face. “Whisperer here is having a hard time with a jerk. I was just advising them to fuck the grumpiness out of the idiot.”

That said, you don’t find the courage to look up to check out the expression on Reyes’ face at the response, but you do hear Cole’s chuckle as he begins to leave, your feet hot on his trails before a firm hand grabs your shoulder, making you stiff.

You dare to stare at your commander with an innocence that doesn’t belong there, a single brow arching above your eye. “Yes, sir?” you hate the way your voice cracks when the sentence is almost done, and the warm feeling of his hand resting on your shoulder… with slightly more pressure than necessary. It burned you inside out, an indistinguishable feeling making itself home in your guts.

“Cole is not an example to follow. I know you lose your tongue around him, but remember this,” you could’ve sworn you saw the edges of his eyes softening a bit. But no, there it was: the veiled anger that always lurked around him, as a shadow in the commander’s back. It was dense, oppressive almost. That thing inside of you twirled, and you unconsciously moved a step far. His hand kept still nonetheless. “I’m your commander. If you ever have a problem with something, I should be the one to know. Not Cassidy: me. Understood?”

“Agreed,” your reply is dry, but you can feel your tongue tingling, a sharper response resting on its tip. You could let it go, simply as that, and maintain things easy as you always did, but why? Who the fuck was he to demand you told him shit when he was the problem? “I will let you know when I fuck the guy then.” 

────────────────────────────────────────────

Let’s just say biting back at your commander wasn’t the best of the ideas.

Cole had been out for weeks on a mission, barely having time to reply to your several texts. You’ve overheard his brief talks with Reyes in the commanding room, but aside from that… no news at all. And you’re sure that was your punishment for retorting Reyes. Not to mention your brand new training schedule, which left no time for you to meet your friends, or anyone else except the Blackwatch team.  

Fucker. 

You peek at him from your co-pilot seat, still a bit bitter for being the one summoned to the mission along Reyes alone. He had insisted Moira wouldn’t be necessary, since your targets wouldn’t be able to cause any damage if they were dead already. Plus, it was a weak security system to break through, and he’d need you just to have his back and make sure the path was clear; meaning he trusted your skills to get the job done.

Not that you’re happy about it anyways.

First of all, you’re not one to start conversations with anyone else but your friends, leaving the three hour flight trip in a dead silence that was becoming rather awkward. Second, the one person in Blackwatch that made you comfortable enough to chat was out of league, thanks to your jerk of a commander himself. That’s why your expression was worse than his, for the first time, and Gabriel seemed fucking smug about it; one side of his lips turning upwards in a crooked grin.

Oh, what a surprise! Your misery meant his bliss. Son of a…

“Keep that anger boiling for the guards,” is that a hint of humor to his tone? Maybe. Cole would’ve said something similar if he was with you, but the sentence wouldn’t be over before he tossed a single darlin’. “It will be more useless than directing it at your commander.”

“I’m not angry at you,” your reply came quiet, almost a whisper. But casting a side glance at him, it’s clear Reyes didn’t buy it. “It’s just…” drawing a deep breath, you try your best to steady your voice and don’t make things worse. You don’t need another week apart from your best friend. Oh, wait- have you just thought of Cole as your best friend? Nah, leave it for now, “you can be difficult sometimes, sir.” 

“Tell me about it,” Reyes scoffs. “I’ve never had a single conversation with you that wasn’t strictly monosyllabic, but Cole had a lot to say about the way I treat you. Funny, isn’t it?” 

Your whole body tenses at his words, and suddenly your stomach feels cold as if you're dead; you’re so perfectly still that maybe that was the case. Was his grumpiness actually resentment all this time? It’s not like you did it on purpose, but as much as you don’t know nothing about him, little did Reyes know about you; so your quiet manner may have been mistaken by antipathy. 

Worse, what did motherfucking Cole tell him? For someone who seemed so unbothered whenever you had plenty to say about the commander, that was indeed a surprise. You had a lot to say for yourself now, but the words got stuck in your throat, a lump that you can’t swallow, nor puke. 

“Listen, kid, it’s fine,” Reyes sighs, and you can tell by the harsh sound of it alone he’s terribly tired. Cole’s voice telling you he needs to be laid pop up in your head, and you shrink instantaneously. Damn intrusive thoughts. “You don’t need to fucking love me. Just do what you have to do and we’re cool.”

The urge to respond telling him you’re no kid and, fuck, you’re sorry for the misunderstandings hit you like a punch in the face. Your lips tremble, parting themselves enough for you to spit it out, even if it’s another goddamn whisper or whatever. But you’re still choking on what you’d like to say instead of pouring it out. 

You risk glancing at him again, and there are no shadows surrounding Reyes now. Bloody hell, he seems tired without the menacing aura. Up in the sky, the light found his face in a way that revealed something along the wrinkles of his expression, something you couldn’t read from your distance.

But that’s not of your concern, is it? 

You could’ve said anything, really anything, or maybe reached your hand a bit and patted his shoulder. Instead, you keep yourself straight, almost motionless until you’ve met the mission’s destination. And once there, it’s not like you’d have plenty of time to discuss your twisted kind of a relationship; if you could call it so.

Yet that doesn’t stop it from bugging you. Was it all a mistake? You search for that anger inside of you, the heat that once threatened to consume even your bones, but you don’t find it. There’s an empty space there now, one that echoes a tepid fever and still feels nothing but cold.

Reyes takes the lead, and also takes down a feel guards on his way forward. He doesn’t look back, not even once, and you found yourself wishing he did. What he would find, though? Not worth a peek. You’re sure the Blackwatch’s commander doesn’t need anything from you, let aside your pity, so you follow him as silent as a phantom, dealing with whatever is left.

He takes a subtle shift, disappearing from your sight in a blink. Standing a few steps behind, you put your back against the nearest wall and motions to follow, taking a few slow steps to make sure no menace remains on your backs… and that’s when a hand covers your mouth and pulls you to the shadows. 

After a few frenetic heartbeats, you’ve come to realize you’ve not been pulled to a dark corner, but you’re surrounded by darkness itself. A massive shadow takes hold of you, one hand keeping your mouth shut and the other gripping on your waist, so tight you can feel its fingers sinking in your skin over the cloth of your uniform. 

Your eyes could’ve popped out of your head at any minute by now, until a couple of errand guards pass by. If it wasn’t for the shadow, they would’ve spotted you and Gabriel in a minute, leaving you both outnumbered and… fuck. He couldn’t have simply disappeared when you blinked, right? And a living shadow out of nowhere wouldn’t be your savior, unless… 

Smelled like Moira’s doing. 

Your muscles still ache when you gradually begin to relax, and the shadows around you begin to collect their form, letting their grip loose. The hand covering your mouth was removed, but the other kept there, holding you impossibly close. You feel a solid frame pressed against your back, despite still cold enough to erupt a chill down your spine. Lips trembling once more, you let a question alone slip, so quiet it wouldn’t be heard if it wasn’t for the lack of space between you. “Commander?”

You thought you’d be afraid to hear the answer, but you’re longing for it. Each passing second marks a rise to the cadence of your heartbeat. One, two, three… “Do not make a sound,” it’s Reyes' voice, too close to your earshell for your heart to sooth with relief; its pace just gets more frenetic as his fingers move around your waist, as if they’re contouring your bones. Your body spasms, and his grip gets sharper. “I’ve said quiet, Whisperer.”

The shadows twist over you, a heavy mist that would dissolve around your fingertips if you tried to hold on it, and yet you could feel something substantial lurking behind, strong enough to keep you steady despite the slight trembling cursing through your bodies. Was it all Reyes? Everything? Shit, if you’ve bothered to get to know the man better, maybe it would have spared you from your heart kicking your ribs, leaving your breaths shallow and your heart racing as they’re now. 

He didn’t feel human now, but he was a human, right? 

You try to move, shifting your weight for one leg to the other, but even that smallest movement had him squishing you closer to his body; or whatever part of it that was still solid enough and not puffs of smoke that you could breathe in. The guards’ voices echoed further on the corridor, fragments of their conversation still audible for you both. A wrong turn and they’d find their colleagues unconscious bodies dropped on the floor, a single step even… and the mission would fail. 

Was it the reason you couldn’t think straight? The adrenaline was rushing through your veins, warming your skin as your heart lost its pace again. Or was it Gabriel’s hand resting on the curve of your hip? You try to collect your thoughts, closing your eyes for a moment, but the smoke invading your lungs had the scent of musk and… the muscles of your inner thighs trembled in response as you recognized it was Reyes’ scent, his fucking cologne or something. 

“They won’t spot us until it’s too late. Stay quiet and we’re safe,” Gabriel sounds like he’s trying to reassure you, unaware of the real cause of your reactions, but it doesn’t help at all. He’s still too close, and why? It’s not like you will be running to the idiots if he let go of you. But when you open your mouth to reply, it’s not a protest. Why, again?

“I’m not worried about that.”

“Are you scared then?” was it… no. You were always one to suppose things about him, and won’t assume yet another possibility fabricated by your brain is the absolute truth. Gabriel Reyes of all people wouldn’t be insecure about what you thought of him in… this state. He’s just keeping his tone down, to prevent you from being heard; to keep you safe. 

Regardless, you need some time before coming up with a reply. There was this strange feeling inside you, traveling down your stomach and inflicting more pain to your already sore muscles, tight with tension. But you wouldn’t name it fear. You were more scared for the sudden pull than of him, surrounding you in a cloud of massive shadows. Amazed wasn’t the word, still… Reyes groaned, and you shivered. “You’ve startled me, yes. But I am not scared of you.”

Another grunt, yet this echoed through his ribcage to yours. You could feel it, the shadows becoming dense once more and what could be his chest squeezed tight against your back as the feeling of his hands became fainter. You dared to look down to see nothing but darkness enclosing you, moving swiftly around your fists. With a gulp, your voice is heard again. “We should get going, sir. This is not…” right. That’s what you should’ve said. But you didn’t, ‘cause a minor part of you, growing bigger from each strangled breath you take, was enjoying it.

Now is Gabriel who takes his sweet time to come up with a reply. You’re aware of his ghostly presence a mere breath apart from you, so close you could let your mind wander a little… How long has it been since the guards passed by you? How long would it take for them to come back, if they ever did? What was he waiting for? But what he says next doesn't answer any of your questions. Instead, it brings up more. “Has anyone told you how beautiful you are, Whisperer?”

You swallow hard, feeling his form drift once more; nothing but a cold empty space left after. You notice just now you’re supporting your weight on him, almost dropping to the floor the second he swifts and leaves nothing for you to hold on. “Cole surely did,” his voice is everywhere, surrounding you in hisses that could cut through your skin. “I bet the boy didn’t mention I was the one to bring it up.”

Thankfully you feel a pair of solid hands taking hold of your wrists, ‘cause you felt on the verge of crumbling to your knees. Gabriel Reyes thought you’re beautiful and admitted it out loud for a reason you can’t point out nor predict, and right now you can’t think of anything else but it, the inconsistent feeling twisting inside your guts as his words echo in your mind. A turmoil begins, and you ask yourself if he perceives what he’s causing inside of you. 

You quiver, and Gabriel’s hands roam further, finding the way down your inner thighs. “All the fucking time I was the one who got my eyes on you, and the cowboy takes all the credits because he calls you darling?” no, you never thought of Cole that way, and you suspect he doesn’t see you as such either. Not that you’re willing to turn Gabriel down when the jealousy in his voice sounds deliciously sweet for you. If you tasted it on his tongue, maybe it would be honey flavored.

Fuck. To think of his lips when Reyes had his hands all over you, traveling up and down and making you whole body shiver in anticipation… sinful would be one definition, heavenly would be another. 

You’ve wronged him, yes. But you’re looking to make up to that, why not? Everyone makes mistakes.

After all, how could you ever figure out every time you’d eyed him from the corner, he was looking back when you turned around? Oh, just to think of it was glorious, as glorious as his hand running along your thighs, then up to linger on the waistband of your pants, enough for you to hold your breath before he drifted away. “For fuck’s sake, say something now.” 

The lump on your throat goes undone with that simple command. You’re always one to follow his orders without questioning, after all. “I don’t know what the fuck I should say. As far as I’m concerned, you hated me until… a few minutes ago?”

He grips the limp skin of your inner thighs, squeezing it so hard you see stars blurring your vision. Before your mouth can even open to echo your pain, Gabriel’s hand covers it again, taking the opportunity to bring you even closer. You feel something hard brushing against your lower back, and you know just right what body part of his it is.  “Do you want me to show you how much I hate you, Whisperer?”

You repeat the question to yourself, your lips following the words but not making a sound. Do you? He doesn’t even sound like himself. Worse, the shadows lurking behind you shaped the form of a ghost, haunting you into the verge of the abyss. A one time thing, a way with no return… gulping, of course the answer would sound pathetically broken when it left your lips. “Y-yes.”

Gabriel doesn’t need you to say it twice, less a touch of politeness to the sentence before he complies. Next thing you know is he’s all over you, pulling your body towards what it seems to be a small storage room, with space enough to fit you both between piles of boxes. Still, not enough space to leave a single breath in between. 

Light is scarce, making it impossible to see his features clearly even if you squint your eyes nearly shut. The contours of his frame, still, are very clear — and solid. They’re outlined faintly in the darkness, not a part of it anymore; a man, not a phantom. Your hands rest on his torso, testing the waters before delving in, and Gabriel’s fingers encircle one for your wrists, indulging it to travel further as he guides your path.

You cannot see Gabriel, but you can definitely feel him. The tension in his muscles is palpable, and you wonder how much of this is your fault. The bulge on his pants certainly is. You accidentally brush your thigh against it, and the grip on your wrist suddenly intensifies, earning a hiss in response. 

The teasing is right there, resting on the tip of your tongue… if it wasn’t occupied with Reyes’ now, you’ve vocalized it. And he does not taste sweet as he kisses you with an insatiable hunger. Your commander tastes fucking sour, consuming all your mouth with the flavor of his with each twist of his tongue, demanding for an equal response. 

Something lights up in that once void space on your chest, the very same anger from before rising its flames and burning everything that dares to stand on the way. The ardor devours you, extinguishing any reservations holding you back before you bring one of your hands to snake inside his pants. 

Gabriel’s length barely fits your palm as your hand motions a few strokes, his stone-hard cock responding to the warm contact with a twitch as your fingers describe a painfully slow pace up and down; taking measures of the damage there’s yet to come. Gabriel groans, a sound you take too long to take as the warning it was.

Still, your rhythm remains steady. Deliberately more confident as your other hand does the work of removing any garments restraining him, meaning no more pants confining his erection. It seems the goddamn world around you was holding its breath at this very moment, watching the point you’ve reached, one that meant no return. 

Your eyes finally search for Reyes’, but the scarce light barely shows a thing, making it impossible to see his blown pupils staring directly at you. But it’s the strangled breath leaving his lips in a snort that makes you aware of how naive you were; a little lamb who dared to linger too close to the wolf. And the hunger that crawls inside Gabriel can’t wait no longer to be satiated. 

You stumble over the boxes in the ground when he moves further and further, cornering you against a dusty shelf before you can blink. Too late to verbalize anything but a moan as it’s his time to toy with you, teeth grazing not so gently against the skin of your neck before his hand resumes its position, steadily resting on your hips and restraining your every move. 

You had your chance to get the upper hand, wasted and hopeless to recover. Your pants now find their way down, resting just above your knees. The bare feeling of the pooled cloth is enough for a chill to erupt, leaving goosebumps on its trail down your skin. The anticipation is effervescent, burning like a fever that can never be cured. Your thoughts are anything but cohesive now, a tangled mess of never finished phrases and assuming pictures of how it would end. 

But your body is too egoistic to care for logic or anything else but your pleasure: it wants him. You want him. Every small fiber of your being is building up with tension as Gabriel fucking Reyes presses his thumb against your clit, describing a small circle that earns a spasm from you; one that makes the shelf behind your back tremble. 

Your part open lips echo a moan that scratches your throat, reverberating in your ribcage. The sound is muffled, briefly terminated by your commander’s hands swiftly moving to cover your mouth, the ghost of his touch still lingering on your hips. “Keep it quiet,” he censors you, despite holding to a tone that you would consider quite loud itself. “I don’t want to kill anyone while I’m fucking you.”

Shit. Why does he have to sound so hot?

Maybe it’s because of his heavy breathing caressing your face, the tip of his cock smoothing your thigh and leaving a thin layer of precum on the skin, but… no. It’s his fingers, working you out in a hurry, as if you’d both explode if he didn’t devote himself to fuck you with his digits, pumping them inside of you without a care.

He didn’t bother to stretch you up, to care for any niceties but rubbing loose circles on your clit, not even a second kiss to your lips to be tasted. Gabriel was being crude, a sour flavor that should be spitted; yet you’re taking it, tasting it on your tongue as if he was the sweetest of honeys. And fuck, your moans are even more obscene when muffled by his hand. 

It’s hard to breathe, to not grind your hips against his palm when he delves too deep and his index finger hits a spot that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. It reaches a point where you were physically there, but your mind is elsewhere, reaching a fucking nirvana or something, going numb with the pleasure consuming your thoughts. He’s destroying you and you absolutely adore it.

You don’t know what will be left when he’s done with you, and fuck you do not care. If you did give a shit about anything, you wouldn’t be fucking your married commander in a storage room during a mission. 

Speaking of which, you nibble your teeth against his wet palm, and it’s enough for Reyes to remove it. Your face is damp with sweat, and the heavy air fills your lungs in between parted gasps. “I can’t—” he doesn’t take the hint to stop fingering you. Instead, his pace fastens, leaving an unfinished sentence hanging in the air as you bite your lip to restrain yourself. Takes a while for you to remember how to speak, meanwhile avoiding a scream that would certainly give up your hiding spot. But the bastard is doing such a marvelous job finding your sensitive spots the words find their way out of your mouth unevenly, strangled phrases shifting from mutters to high pitched statements. “I don’t want to cum on your fingers.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” Gabriel’s response is sly, and you can hear the smile on his voice. A masochist to the bone, the fucker, who has been rubbing his dick against your thigh all this time, almost fucking the small gap between them when you whole body would tense and quiver from his touch. “Didn’t I say I would show you how much I hate you? That's just how.” 

To nominate every way in which Gabriel hated you: first, there’s his mouth, hovering just above the curve of your neck, pecking the skin ever so gently a chill runs down your spine. Second, his fingers are still thrusting inside of you without a rest, getting sloppy and sloppier as your wetness makes it hard for them to not slip and lose track among their thrusts. Your best evidence, of course, was his erection throbbing against your skin. 

And you want it inside of you so bad it’s a shame.

You can’t even get yourself to moan. They die in your chest before even getting the chance to be vocalized, sounding as hoarse groans or quiet whimpers. Fuck, a million times fuck. Tears flood your vision when the reaching point of tension is met with a violent tremble of your tights. 

The world around yourself dissolves as if Gabriel made everything into shadows, the mist of him crawling inside of you and still scratching from the outside; making everything turn into nothing, and filling once void spaces of coldness with a warmth erupting from your very core. 

It takes a single blink for the tears to fall down your lashes. You fumble through the nearest surface, feeling the wooden shelves and the dust covering them dirtying your fingers. Still, you can’t see anything: your mind is back to place after the bliss, but the darkness remains. Impenetrable, surrounding you, and now leaning for a kiss. 

He’s not desperate anymore. Gabriel’s kiss now tastes more as a triumph, guided by patience of someone who knows they’ve winned. What you don’t know yet, but as his tongue moves languidly against yours, there’s no room for anything else. He can take this one, it’s not like losing feels bad at all. 

Reyes cups your face with one hand, the affection of it enough for your body to crave for his violence once more. You don’t want his soft side, the light kisses and all that shit: forget about. A single rough tough of his is enough. 

The passions we burden ourselves with… you couldn't have been more careless choosing yours, legs already parted for him.

The tip of his cock brushes lightly against your sensitive folds, and you shiver hard enough for your teeth to collide mid-kiss. He doesn’t care, and neither do you. Your legs spread further, a silent invite that remains ignored while he busies himself with the teasing. “Reyes, really?” you breath out, exasperated as you part away from him, his tongue insisting to trace your lower lip while you state your frustration.

“If you wanted me to fuck you so bad you could’ve asked before,” he mutters in reply, and you can hear the grin in his tone again. “Right… you didn’t. Too busy gossiping with Cole about me to admit that you were the one who needed to get laid” you would’ve bitten back if Gabriel hadn’t chosen this precise moment to finally slide his cock inside of you, leaving little to no time for you to think of or at least try to swallow the moan erupting from your throat. The sound echoes through the walls, and Gabriel chuckles.

You didn’t care for an apology. If you were heard, it meant you had a few minutes before being spotted, and you intended to make the best out of it. Screw everything. What if your targets found you fucking your commander didn’t sound like a terrible possibility anymore, but a thrilling one.

Gosh, what did he make out of you?

Precisely, a mess. 

You groan, planting your feet on the ground and trying to remind your body on how to properly stand, but each smash of his hips against yours weakens your legs and has you almost slipping to the ground.

Fuck, he fills you so good. The length is not absurd, but damn he’s thick. At least his fingers did a great job at stretching you out so there’s no pain, just the overflowing feeling of being whole. The emptiness once aching to be filled is now gone, leaving space for something else to crawl under your skin.

Something feels utterly wrong, and controversially right at the same time. Gabriel is vicious, maybe that’s why. Despite the burn from your sore muscles, you don’t see yourself wanting him to be done any soon. Every ache is a distant echo in comparison with the higher volumes of your pleasure, whilst the afterglow is still lingering on your body, making every sparkle of sensation a burning fire. 

Gabriel’s breath is also hot against your face. His gasps for air are out of pace, getting deliciously worse whenever he stops after thrusting deep inside of you, nibbling on the skin of your chin and muttering nonsense to the curve of your neck.

You’ve never heard him like that, voice almost breaking within each syllab, struggling to finish a simple sentence. But the cursing… well, that you are familiar with.

“This fucking sweet cunt of yours,” Reyes would stop to grunt and catch his breath, the guttural reverberating through your body with an intensity that would make you quiver. “I’ll be filling you up sooner than I would like, damn you.”

“Can’t you quit the complaining not even when we’re fucking?” not you actually complaining, though. You’re so used to being around your commander when he’s tossing charge after charge that you’ve come to find it kind of hot, now that you’ve come to admit it.

“It could be worse. I could make you call me sir,” he sounds so damn smug replying, shit. If it wasn't for the dark room already, you’ve felt the urge to hide your face, swallow your pride and stay quiet. But it was so easy to retort when you can’t actually see him, nor expect his reaction. Gabriel is fucking you so good he could’ve say whatever comes up to his mind and you’d still be soaking wet for the man. 

“Fuck you, sir.”

“I’m busy fucking you already,” he smack his hips hard enough to earn a warm pain on your lower stomach, and you gasp, choking on whatever you’d say. “Tell me you’re not loving it.”

You can’t say shit in such a state despite your best efforts, which you think are better invested in keeping your feet to the ground and ease your struggle to stand when his thrusts flutter between intense and erratic. 

It’s overwhelming. Too much to take, but you do without a flinch. It was meant to be your anyways: his fleeting rage, the shallow breaths cursing out your name, a momentaneous passion that would burn until it consumed itself. The beginning of an end, starting now.

Gabriel’s body trembles on top of you, and all you can think of is holding on to him for dear life. Everything is still dark, but you close your eyes nonetheless and leave it for your body to fill the empty spaces; for him to bring oblivion upon you. 

That’s when everything else fades. You can still feel Gabriel inside of you, your walls clenching around his length and the impossible hardness of it. But there’s nothing else for you to hold onto: he’s gone again; a shadow. It touches your skin, a cold specter hovering above you; fucking you.

With a gasp, your eyes snapped open in astonishment and your body jolted forward into the dark, cold mist. Into Gabriel. Your voice calls his name, nothing but a forgotten plea, the echo of a memory losing itself in the void. You can’t get yourself to say nothing else, or think of anything but him while he cums inside of you.

You don’t know how long it takes for the afterglow to disperse, but you do know you can touch Gabriel again, hold him in your arms while his irregular breath is the only sound filling the silence.

What’s the best thing to say to your boss after he fucked you during a mission? You thought you had it figured out, but before you could say anything, Reyes’ voice cut through your thoughts. “You’ll have a hell of a story to tell Cole when we’re back.”

[nekovmancer]

hiiie can you do blackwatch gabriel reyes and or cole cassidy (not blackwatch) w/ a reader that's super shy and quiet at first but once they warm up to them they're really talkative and funny? thank you <3

heyyy, anon!!

ooof, sorry it took super long, but here you go.

I felt inspired enough to try a smut oneshot after so long and!! I do need to thank you for requesting. 🫶

but if it's not up to what you're thinking, please send the request again and I'll be pleased to do a nsfw/sfw hcs version with only cassidy, or only gabe, or both- hehehehehe

[nekovmancer]

sneak peek of a hc request that i've made into a whole oneshot just because yes. 5k words, 1k just from smut and still counting 💃

JUNO FINALLY WON THE NEVER ENDING BATTLE AGAINST WRITER'S BLOCK!!!

plus my own shyness writing smut

[nekovmancer]

breaking through the writer's block with the will of spite. fuck work, fuck my good and old depression, i'm writing fanfiction!!!!!!! yipeeee

i'm hoping i can post all requests till sunday plus update the blog's aesthetic once more

[nekovmancer]

[nekovmancer]

Me waiting for new Ford fanfics to come out because i’ve read most of them already:

[nekovmancer]

—  𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

"I’ve tried to hide it, but my heart betrays me every time you’re near—I’m completely, hopelessly in love with you."

"I want to be the reason you look at your phone and smile."

"Loving you is like breathing… and I’ve been holding my breath for so long, I can’t do it any longer."

"Every time I look at you, I realise I don’t want to spend another moment of my life without you."

"I don’t know how or when it happened, but you’ve completely stolen my heart."

"I used to wonder if love was real… and then you came along and made it the only thing I believe in."

"Every part of me aches to tell you how much I love you, even if it’s terrifying."

"Loving you is both the easiest and hardest thing I’ve ever done."

"I keep pretending I’m fine, but the truth is I’m in love with you, and it scares me."

"I don’t know if you feel the same way, but I had to say it—I’m in love with you."

"The truth is, every part of me belongs to you."

"I tried to deny it, tried to push it away, but I can’t—I’m hopelessly in love with you."

"You’re my first thought every morning and my last before I sleep."

"I think about you more than I’d like to admit. I think… maybe I’m in love with you."

"There’s a quiet peace in my heart every time I think of you, and it feels like love."

"I never expected to feel this way, but here I am, confessing that I’m in love with you."

"My heart races, my hands shake, and all I want to say is ‘I love you’."

"You’re the reason I believe in love, and I don’t know how to keep that to myself any longer."

"All I know is that life feels brighter, warmer, and more alive whenever I’m with you. I think I’m in love with you."

"I’ve tried to act normal, but the truth is, you’ve captured my heart."

"I think I’ve fallen in love with you, and every day I fall a little more."

"Loving you feels as natural as breathing, and it’s taken me far too long to say it."

"You’re my heart’s greatest wish, and it’s time you knew—I’m in love with you."

"I feel a warmth in my heart every time you’re near… it’s love, isn’t it?"

"I don’t know how to say it gently, so here it is: I love you. I think I always have."

"If I don’t tell you this now, I’m afraid I never will—I’m in love with you."

"There’s no one else I think about like this, no one else I feel so deeply for. It has to be love."

"I don’t need you to say it back; I just needed you to know... I’m in love with you."

"Every moment we’re together feels like magic, and that magic is love, isn’t it?"

"I’d rather risk everything and tell you the truth—I’m in love with you."

"I was fine on my own, but now that I’ve met you, I can’t imagine a life without you."

"I’d move mountains if it meant I could tell you every day how much I love you."

"Loving you feels like the most honest thing I’ve ever done."

"The truth is, my heart has belonged to you from the very first moment we met."

"I can’t promise that I won’t be afraid, but I can promise that I love you."

"Every day without you feels like a day wasted. I’m in love with you, and I want the world to know."

"If there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that I love you with everything I am."

"You’ve woven yourself into my heart, and there’s no turning back—I love you."

"Loving you is like coming home to a place I never knew I missed until I met you."

"It feels like my whole life has been leading up to this moment—to tell you that I love you."

"I’m scared, I’m nervous, but more than anything, I’m in love with you."

"I didn’t know it was possible to feel so deeply until you walked into my life."

"I could search the world and never find someone who makes me feel like you do. I love you."

"I never believed in fate until I realised how perfectly you fit into my life."

"I could wait forever to say it, but I don’t want to anymore—I love you."

"Loving you feels like the answer to a question I didn’t even know I had."

"I love you, (name)."