#And then Dan gives me a golden one just like this

[jellykyunnie]

Okay but in a fr sense why the hell are my types so goddamn opposite of eachother? Blud it's either the cold and strict type or u cant trust that fae aa look and it makes me go🤺🤺🤺🤺 everytime I realize it

WHERE THE FUCK IS THE CONSISTENCY LORD??!!!?!!????? Dear god just give me my future husband alr like man or just outright tekl me if I'm gonna die single buddy I'm in a dillemma at how my types are just pkain polar opposites spare me pls

[heliosunny]

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Dan Feng x Reader

You stood before the Lucky Egg Dispenser. One pull. One egg. People swore by it, miraculous companions, rare creatures with mystical abilities. Some even whispered about something more. You hadn’t believed it. Not until you got one.

At first, it was just an egg, smooth, cool to the touch, its deep azure surface streaked with faint golden veins. For three days, it sat in your apartment, resting on a pillow beneath the soft glow of a bedside lamp.

Then, it hatched.

And the first thing you saw were cyan eyes, glowing like captured starlight. Most people received small, harmless creatures: foxlike beings, glowing fish, even tiny floating wisps of light. Instead, curled amidst the shattered remnants of the shell, was a man.

His long, dark hair cascaded down his back in flowing silken strands. His pale jade antler-like horns gleamed under the soft light, an ethereal contrast to his sharp, almost inhuman pointed ears. His robes, a pristine blend of white, silver, and intricate teal embroidery, draped over his lean yet powerful frame, giving him an air of royalty, as if he had stepped out of some long-forgotten legend. A single red earring dangled from his right ear, swaying gently.

But what held you frozen were his cyan eyes, sharp and penetrating, gleaming with something unreadable. Something ancient. Something dangerous.

He moved towards you. His grip was gentle yet unyielding as his hand cupped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze fully.

"You are the first thing I have seen." he murmured.

His thumb brushed over your lips. "That means you are mine."

Finally, you got him to sit. You sat opposite him, keeping a cautious distance. The man studied his surroundings with the quiet grace of someone who had seen worlds beyond this one.

"You may call me Dan Feng" he said smoothly, his voice carrying an old-world elegance.

You hesitated before responding with your own name, unsure of what to make of him.

"Do you... have hobbies? Things you enjoy?" you asked, attempting to keep the conversation light.

Dan Feng tilted his head slightly, contemplating the question. "Reading ancient texts. Chess. Refining my abilities. Battle."

That last word made you tense slightly.

Before you could respond, you got up to fetch him a drink, only to trip over your own feet.

Time seemed to slow. A surge of energy crackled through the air, and before you could hit the ground, you found yourself suspended midair, a soft glowing force wrapped around you.

Dan Feng hadn’t moved an inch. Yet, his magic had caught you effortlessly.

"You have magic?" you asked in awe, as he gently set you upright.

His lips curled into an amused smile. "Of course. Did you expect otherwise?"

The moment left you shaken but also intrigued. You had to know the extent of his abilities. So you took him to a weapon shop.

In this world, people trained to farm levels and increase their stats through dungeons. Power meant survival, and you needed to understand exactly what he was capable of. Dan Feng examined the weapons with idle curiosity before selecting a blade—a long, ornate spear. The moment he lifted it, the air around you shifted. With a single, precise swing, the spear cleaved the reinforced training dummy clean in half.

The shopkeeper gaped. You swallowed hard.

Dan Feng lowered the weapon, looking wholly unimpressed by his own strength. As if it was trivial.

He turned to you, eyes glowing softly. "Satisfied? I can use pretty much any weapon in this place."

You weren’t sure whether to be impressed or terrified.

From the moment he hatched, he never left your side. At first, you assumed it was natural. A newly born creature clinging to its first bond. But this was no ordinary attachment. He was always there.

A silent, watchful presence in your home. In your dreams. When you awoke, he was there, seated gracefully by your bedside, watching with an unreadable gaze. When you left for work, his figure lingered just outside, eyes never straying from you.

Your phone? Constantly buzzing. Unread messages. Missed calls.

Dan Feng. Dan Feng. Dan Feng.

You started locking your doors.

They always unlocked themselves.

One night, you tried sneaking out, he found you before you reached the next street.

"Why do you run?"

His voice was calm, almost amused. Yet the air around him grew heavy, pressing against your lungs, making it difficult to breathe.

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, his robes barely stirring.

"You called me into existence" he murmured, lifting your chin once more. "You do not abandon what you have created."

The next day, you searched for someone skilled enough to play chess with him. A strategic game like that might hold his attention. As he sat, moving his pieces with unnerving precision, you stood behind him, studying his every move, intrigued by his intelligence. His plays were ruthless, methodical. He was brilliant.

When you turned to leave after his next match, you felt his fingers encircle your wrist again. You swore he had been fully focused on the board.

“Where are you going?” he asked smoothly.

You forced a smile. “Just getting you something to drink.”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before releasing you.

You returned not just with food and drink, but with a friend you had met at the dungeon.

Dan Feng finished his match earlier than expected.

Before you could react, he was by your side, his hand resting lightly on your back as he steered you away from the others. “It’s late” he murmured. “I will lead you home.”

The next morning, you noticed something was off. Dan Feng's usual poised demeanor was replaced with a subtle lethargy, his forehead warm to the touch. A fever?

You immediately took it upon yourself to care for him, dampening a cloth to press against his forehead and making him herbal tea. Though he allowed your ministrations, there was an unreadable expression in his eyes, as if he were watching you, studying you, but unwilling to say something. His breathing grew steadier under your care, but exhaustion eventually took its toll on you. As night fell, you drifted into sleep beside him.

By the time you awoke, he was gone.

Panic surged through you. The idea of someone taking advantage of him or worse, attempting to capture and sell him due to his rare nature propelled you into action. You traced his presence back to a nearby dungeon, where an eerie sight awaited you.

The creatures inside weren’t attacking him. They were bowing. Dan Feng stood among them, his form partially transformed. His antlers glowed brightly, his once-hidden dragon-like tail illuminated by an ethereal light. Power radiated from him in waves, his presence commanding absolute authority. Whatever he was doing, it was deliberate—perhaps an attempt to regulate his strength, to return to his usual form without alarming you.

You confronted him, your voice sharp with concern. “What are you doing?”

He turned to you, unbothered by your presence. “Releasing excess energy. I did not wish to frighten you.”

His nonchalance infuriated you. “You disappeared without a word. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

Something flickered in his gaze, amusement, perhaps. Then, to your utter disbelief, he chuckled.

“You followed me,” he mused, stepping closer. “Because you were worried.”

You clenched your fists. “Of course, I was! You were feverish, and then you vanished!”

Instead of acknowledging your frustration, he merely brushed his fingers against your cheek, the heat of his touch lingering. “How endearing,” he murmured. “But unnecessary.”

You glared at him, unamused. “You don’t get to decide that.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, then let out a low, indulgent sigh. “Very well” he said, as if entertaining a fleeting whim. “Next time, I shall wake you.”

You were relieved when Dan Feng eventually returned to his normal form, but curiosity still lingered in your mind. While he was cooking, or at least attempting to, since you had been teaching him—you found yourself watching him closely. His movements were precise, yet slightly hesitant, as if he were still adjusting to the task. The soft glow of the kitchen lanterns reflected in his eyes, making him appear even more ethereal than usual.

Acting on impulse, you suddenly reached out and touched his antler-like horns. The texture was smoother than you expected, but before you could fully process the sensation, his entire body jolted as if struck by lightning. His hands fumbled with the kitchen knife, and a sharp inhale escaped his lips.

“Ah—!” His voice was higher than usual, laced with genuine surprise and something else you couldn't quite place. His ears twitched violently, and his cheeks flushed a deep crimson. He turned sharply, swatting your hand away as his tail flicked behind him with a barely contained shudder.

You blinked, taken aback by the uncharacteristic reaction. "I—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you," you quickly stammered, raising both hands in surrender. "I won’t do that again."

Danfeng cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. His eyes remained averted, but the pink dusting his face lingered stubbornly. "Good." His tone was firm, but the way he slightly shifted away from you spoke volumes.

Deciding not to push further, you allowed the moment to pass, though the curiosity still gnawed at you. On a more positive note, Dan Feng had started gaining friends through chess matches, and you were relieved to see him socializing beyond just clinging to you. Still, something about his past lingered in your thoughts, the way he had spoken about ‘battles’ when you first met.

Your suspicions solidified when you both realized you were running low on points for trading. A dungeon run was the most efficient way to replenish them, so you ventured inside together. That was when you finally understood the depth of his strength. The dungeon was teeming with creatures—some of them towering behemoths with godlike power, but none of them stood a chance.

Dan Feng didn’t just defeat them—he annihilated them with terrifying precision. His water magic twisted into elegant but deadly formations, cutting through enemies with almost artistic grace. Massive hydra-like beings fell within seconds, their roars of defiance silenced as waves crushed them into the ground. The air became thick with mist, swirling around him like a deity descending upon a battlefield.

Watching him fight was both mesmerizing and unsettling. His expression never wavered, calm, composed, and yet, there was something disturbingly natural about the way he wielded destruction. It was then you realized Dan Feng wasn't just powerful. He was something beyond that.

As the dungeon’s final enemy fell, the air shimmered, and a chest materialized before you. It was rare to see such a reward, so both you and Dan Feng approached with caution. You hesitated for a moment before lifting the lid together. Inside, nestled within the chest’s velvet-lined interior, were two items: a gleaming sword and an ornate ring.

You both examined the sword first. It was well-crafted, its blade humming faintly with residual energy, but neither of you used swords. After a brief discussion, you decided to sell it to the weapon merchant upon returning to town. However, when you reached for the ring, Danfeng’s hand moved faster, snatching it up before you could inspect it properly.

“I’ll keep this” he stated firmly, slipping it into his sleeve before you could protest.

You let it go for the moment, though curiosity gnawed at you. Dan Feng was not one to act so possessively over mere trinkets, and yet there was a glint in his eyes that you had never seen before.

Later that evening, while he busied himself with something in the kitchen, you caught sight of him turning the ring over in his hands, his thumb brushing over the intricate engravings with something close to reverence. When he noticed your gaze, he merely smirked and pocketed it once more, offering no explanation.

It wasn’t until much later, when the ring’s magic revealed itself—that you understood exactly why he had insisted on keeping it. When you woke up one morning, your wrist felt oddly warm, a faint golden glow emanating from it. You gasped as you realized a faint, ethereal chain connected you to Danfeng, who stood at the doorway watching you with an unreadable expression.

“You belong to me now” he murmured, his voice calm but firm. “This ring binds us together. No more sneaking away, no more hiding.”

The weight of his words settled in your chest as you stared at him, realization dawning. The ring wasn’t just a trinket, it was a claim. And you had unknowingly let him seal your fate.

[unsuperingyournatural]

no takebacks

Pedro Pascal x Actress!Reader

dividers @saradika-graphics

@po3tbbygirl not sure this is what you were thinking but a little something along the lines of what you were mentioning in your post

"And the Oscar goes to..."

You hear your name and everything slows down. Like the world is just… pausing for you.

Then Pedro is standing.

A deafening roar of applause erupts around you, thunderous and wild, and Pedro’s already pulling you up, arms wrapping around you tight, pressing a firm kiss to your cheek—then another, right near your temple. You hear him say it, warm and close:

“You did it. You did it, baby.”

You barely remember the walk to the stage. Just the blinding lights, the sound of applause, and the surreal weight of the Oscar now in your hand.

You step up to the mic, still a little stunned.

“Well... this is awkward,” you begin, earning your first wave of laughter. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, and now my entire left eyelash is threatening to mutiny.”

More laughter. You smile.

“Thank you to the Academy. Thank you to the cast and crew. You made this performance possible through hours of night shoots, uncomfortable contact lenses, and—shoutout to our stunt team—multiple fake injuries, and one real one that reminded everyone I’m not invincible.”

Laughter again. You breathe a little easier.

“To my team—thank you for fighting for me. And yes, Dan, I am finally thanking you on a stage. Let it go.”

A laugh from off-stage. You spot him—your lawyer—smug as ever.

You take a breath, and your gaze finds Pedro, seated in the front row, grinning up at you like he already knows what’s coming.

“I wasn’t going to bring this up tonight…” You pause, then smirk. “…except I absolutely was.”

You turn your gaze toward the front row. “Pedro,” you say lightly, “you told me—back when I got nominated for a Golden Globe—that if I won one, we could finally talk about the whole kids thing.”

The crowd chuckles, and Pedro immediately drops his head into his hand.

“You said—and I remember this clearly—‘If you win, I’ll think about it.’”

You pause for effect, smile widening. “Well. I won.”

More laughter and cheers. You glance down at him. “So we talked. And you said maybe. Then you said—and I quote—‘If you win a SAG Award, then we’ll definitely talk.’”

Pedro’s already blushing. The crowd is loving this.

“Well,” you continue brightly, “I won that too. So we had the big talk. And you said yes. No timelines, no pressure—just, yes. Open to the idea.”

You pause again, letting the room settle.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about this,” you say, grinning as you shift the statue to your other hand. “And I realized... you kind of kept moving the goalpost on me.”

The crowd perks up again. You glance down at him with faux suspicion, eyebrows raised. He’s already shaking his head, bracing for impact.

“First it was, ‘If you win a Golden Globe, we’ll talk about kids.’ Then it was, ‘Well if you win the SAG Award, we’ll definitely talk.’ And then—then—you say, ‘If you ever win an Oscar, that’s it. One kid. Definitely no takebacks.’”

You hold up the statue like a mic drop. “And I just feel like... maybe you didn’t think I’d actually get this far?”

The laughter explodes. Pedro groans into his hands.

“Like, were you just setting the bar so high that I’d give up and stop asking?” you tease. “Because if so... tough luck, honey. We’re in it now.”

Pedro mouths something that looks a lot like “I panicked!” and you can’t help but laugh.

As the laughter rolls through the theater, the actor sitting directly behind Pedro—someone very A-list and enjoying this way too much—leans forward and claps him on the shoulder with a huge grin. Pedro just slumps slightly, still laughing, nodding like, Yeah, okay, I earned that.

You tilt your head, lifting the Oscar just a touch. “Look, I don’t know what kind of strategic reverse-psychology delay tactic that was, but it backfired spectacularly. I won. This is happening.”

You pause dramatically. “So unless you’ve got another awards show in mind... better start warming up those lullabies, Pascal.”

The room loses it. Pedro throws up his hands and calls out with a groan and a laugh:

“Alright—but you’re telling my sister.”

"Deal!"

The crowd howls. Someone near him claps him on the back again. He just shakes his head like a man who’s been thoroughly outplayed.

The laughter swells again, and you take one last look around the room—at Pedro, at the sea of faces, at the moment you never quite let yourself believe would happen.

You lift the Oscar just slightly, smile slow and certain.

“Thank you,” you say one more time, voice warm.

Then you step back from the mic.

You're barely behind the curtain before someone hands you a bottle of water and starts congratulating you. There’s glitter in the air. Your heart’s still pounding. You can’t feel your feet. The statue’s heavier than you expected and warm from your hands.

And then—he’s there.

Pedro slips through the crowd like it parts for him, his eyes locked on you with that soft, breathless kind of smile that makes your stomach drop every time.

Before you can say anything, he pulls you into him.

“Jesus,” he mumbles into your shoulder. “You really did it.”

You laugh into his chest. “You sound surprised.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you—his hands still warm on your waist, his face completely undone with pride. “I mean, yeah. I always knew you were amazing. I just didn’t think you’d actually call me out that hard on live television.”

“You deserved it.” You smirk, still slightly breathless. “You started the whole ‘if you win’ saga.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually pull off the triple crown.”

“Well,” you say, holding up the Oscar between you like evidence, “I did. So...”

Pedro lets out a quiet groan and presses his forehead to yours. “I can’t believe you did that to me in front of everyone. My phone’s going to explode. My family’s phones are going to explode.”

“I warned you.”

“You absolutely did not.”

“Okay, maybe I implied it. With my eyes.”

He laughs again—real, deep, glowing with pride—and then brushes his fingers down your arm.

“You were perfect,” he says softly. “Up there. You made the whole damn room fall in love with you.”

You lean in, lips brushing the edge of his jaw. “Too late. I already picked you.”

He exhales like that broke something in him. Then he tugs you back into another hug—one of those hold-on-for-dear-life ones—and kisses your cheek, then your neck, like he can’t quite stop.

“Hey,” you whisper near his ear. “Just a heads up…”

Pedro stiffens a little, playful. “If you say ‘no takebacks,’ I swear—”

…“I was gonna say,” you cut in with a grin, “your sister’s probably texting you in all caps.”

He groans again, but he’s smiling.

You feel it—how proud he is. How completely stunned.

Like in this moment, there’s no one else in the world. Just the two of you, tucked into the softest kind of silence.

And as he holds you, smiling into your shoulder while the chaos hums around you, you let your eyes flutter shut for a breath.

This— this feels like the start of something even better.

[rosyrosethings]

Snowed in

This is slowwww burn. Enemies to lovers. I love a good slow burn

7k+ words

Y/N’s breath puffed into the frozen air as she slammed her car door shut, the sound echoing across the quiet clearing. Snow crunched beneath her boots as she stepped forward, scarf pulled tighter around her neck, eyes lifting toward the cabin nestled between towering pines.

It was bigger than she expected—three stories of rich timber and stone, with a wraparound porch and smoke curling lazily from the chimney. Warm golden light spilled from the windows, glowing like a promise against the cold gray sky. It would’ve been the perfect winter escape—if he wasn’t coming.

She sighed sharply, her breath fogging up her glasses. Of course Harry Styles was coming. Of course he had to be part of this.

The group trip had sounded great in theory: a week in a mountain cabin with friends, no work, just snow, booze, board games, and long mornings in pajamas. Y/N had needed the break—desperately. And it might’ve been just what she needed, if it weren’t for the single walking migraine that came bundled with dimples and a British accent.

Harry Styles was a menace. A flirty, smug, utterly infuriating headache of a man who lived to push her buttons. He always knew just what to say, what look to give, how to hover one second too long. Every interaction was a tug-of-war—one he acted like he was enjoying a little too much. She swore he only said her name like that—low and drawn out—just to make her skin crawl.

And worse? It worked.

She’d made sure to arrive first. If she had to be stuck here all week, she’d at least claim the best room. Hoisting her duffel bag onto one shoulder, she trudged up the porch stairs and brushed snow from her sleeves. The front door creaked open with a gentle push—unlocked, just like Mitch promised.

Inside, the cabin was warm and still, filled with the soft glow of firelight and the scent of cedar. Thick beams crossed the ceiling, a stone fireplace crackled quietly at the far end of the room, and plush rugs softened the dark wood floors. She stepped in slowly, letting the quiet settle over her like a blanket. For just a moment, it was perfect.

Then the front door flew open behind her with a burst of icy air.

“Don’t tell me you beat me here,” called a voice that made her jaw tighten on instinct.

She didn’t even need to look. She knew that voice.

Harry Styles stepped inside like he owned the place, snow dusting his boots and curls poking out from beneath a black beanie. His cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, eyes bright and full of mischief. That stupid, irresistible grin was already on his face.

“Unfortunately,” she muttered without turning around.

“Wow,” he said, unzipping his coat. “You came early. That’s cute. Trying to set up booby traps before I arrive?”

“Actually, I came early so I wouldn’t have to see your face for a few hours.”

He let out a laugh that was far too delighted. “God, you missed me.”

“I missed peace.”

Harry strolled farther in, glancing around like he was already rating the decor. “You know, the more you insult me, the more I’m convinced you dream about me at night.”

“I don’t dream about clowns.”

He raised a brow. “That’s weird. I dream about you sometimes.”

Y/N turned slowly, fixing him with a glare. “You’re disgusting.”

“And yet,” he said, gesturing around them with mock innocence, “here you are. Sharing a roof with me.”

Before she could snap back, her phone buzzed so did Harry’s . Then again. Then a third time. She pulled it out and opened the group chat.

Dan: Roads are closing—storm’s worse than they predicted Lauren: They won’t let us past the ranger checkpoint Mitch: They’re putting us up at this little lodge halfway up the mountain Jessica: We’ll have to wait out the storm, prob can’t get to the cabin tonight Dan: You guys hold it down. Try not to kill each other Lauren: Or worse... hook up lol Y/N: I hope the snow swallows you all

She stared at the screen. Then slowly looked up. Harry was already grinning. “You have got to be kidding me.” She said under her breath. 

“Just us,” he said, arms outstretched like it was a dream come true. “In a beautiful, secluded cabin. Four bedrooms. And yet, I know you’ll still find ways to bump into me.”

“In your dreams.”

Harry waggled his eyebrows. “Exactly.”

Y/N groaned and turned for the stairs. “I’m claiming the biggest room.”

“Already did.”

She froze. “Excuse me?”

“I was here first,” he said, smug. “Technically. I parked in the back, took the back stairs. My bag’s already on the bed. Mountain view, window seat, king bed. Super cozy.”

“You sneaky little—”

“Now, now,” he said, holding up his hands like he was diffusing a bomb. “Still three other bedrooms left. Unless, of course... you want to share?”

She turned slowly, her glare sharp enough to cut glass. “I’d rather eat a blue jean jacket.”

He burst out laughing as she stormed up the stairs.

Y/N flung open the second bedroom door with more force than necessary. It wasn’t as big as the master, but it would do—queen bed, soft blankets, a little window with a snow-covered view. Most importantly, it was far enough away from Harry’s room that she wouldn’t have to hear him breathing.

She tossed her bag onto the bed and sat down, still bundled in her coat. Outside, the snow was falling faster now—thick, heavy flakes swirling in the wind. It was almost hypnotic, the way it danced through the air, piling higher along the porch and creeping up the trees.

They weren’t going anywhere tonight. That much was clear.

She had just finished unpacking when it happened.

Click.

The heater cut off.

A strange silence followed—no humming refrigerator, no subtle buzz of electricity. Just the low crackle of the fire from downstairs and the eerie groan of the wind pressing against the walls.

Then darkness.

Y/N paused, mid-step, her pulse skipping as the reality settled in.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered, flicking the light switch a few more times. 

Nothing.

From downstairs came Harry’s voice: “Power’s out!”

She rolled her eyes and shouted back, “Thanks, Sherlock!”

She quickly changed into some pjs, looking in bag for some kind of light source besides her phone to save battery. 

Nothing.

Just a book, a portable charger, Yarn,  and her pride.

The wind howled again, louder now, rattling the window beside her like a warning. The room was already getting colder. Upstairs suddenly felt very far away from the fire—and far too close to the storm.

With a grumble, she grabbed her phone and her book and headed downstairs.

The living room was dim, lit only by the fireplace’s faint orange glow. Harry was crouched in front of it, sleeves rolled up, feeding a fresh log into the flames. Sparks popped and danced up the chimney, and the heat slowly returned to the room.

Y/N stopped at the bottom step, arms crossed over her chest.

Harry looked up. “Look who finally decided to join me.”

“It’s freezing upstairs,” she said flatly. “And I don’t feel like being trapped in a horror movie setting alone.”

“Sure. That’s why,” he said, grinning. “Not because you missed me?”

She gave him a look. “I’d rather sleep outside.”

Harry stood and brushed off his hands. “Suit yourself. But unless you want to become a human popsicle, this fire is your best friend now.”

She walked to the far end of the couch and sat down stiffly, curling her legs under her. “Don’t talk to me.”

“No promises,” he said, disappearing into the kitchen.

A few moments later, he returned with a cardboard box and a lighter. “Found these in the drawer next to the fridge. Candles.”

Y/N took them wordlessly and began lighting them one by one, placing them across the room—on the mantle, the windowsill, the coffee table. Warm golden light flickered to life in small halos, casting long shadows and softening the edges of the cabin.

The room shrank around them, cozier now, quieter.

She picked up her book, flipped to her dogeared page, and began reading. Harry dropped into the armchair closest to the fire, his long legs stretching out in front of him as he stared into the flames.

For several minutes, neither of them spoke.

Outside, the storm roared like an angry beast, but inside, all was still.

Until—

Growl.

It was faint, but unmistakable.

Y/N froze, eyes locked on the page. She tried to play it off by flipping to the next chapter like nothing happened.

Harry opened one eye. “Was that… you?”

She didn’t answer.

“That was your stomach,” he said, grinning.

“It was the wind.”

“The wind doesn’t sound hungry, Y/N.”

She snapped her book shut. “Do not start.”

Harry stood with a stretch, heading into the kitchen. “Relax. I brought food.”

“Oh good,” she called. “Protein bars and bad decisions?”

“Funny. But no,” he said, rummaging through his bag. “Tonight, we dine like kings.”

He returned with two packs of instant ramen, a small pot, and a grin that made her immediately suspicious.

“You brought ramen?”

“Laugh all you want, but I knew we’d end up needing it. Mountain weather waits for no man.”

“I’d rather starve.”

Harry shrugged and headed toward the stove. “Suit yourself. But when you faint from hunger, I’m not catching you.”

She didn’t reply—but her eyes followed him as he knelt beside the wood-burning stove, coaxing the flames higher. He looked completely in his element, sleeves pushed up, focus sharp, hands steady. It was annoying how competent he looked.

And how good.

She turned back to her book, scowling at the page like it had personally offended her.

Behind her, she heard the familiar sound of water heating. Then the soft rustle of plastic as he tore open the ramen packets.

“Just so you know,” Harry said, “I’m making two bowls. Because I know you. You’ll pretend you’re not hungry, then creep into the kitchen at midnight like a raccoon.”

“I won’t.”

“You will.”

The scent of ramen filled the room, savory and warm. Her stomach growled again.

“I’m not eating that,” she said, sharper this time.

“Didn’t say you were,” he said casually, pouring noodles into the steaming water. “But I’m placing one bowl near you and walking away. What happens after that is between you and your integrity.”

Y/N didn’t answer. But her eyes flicked toward the stove. The ramen smelled criminally good. Salty, warm, comforting in the way only cheap noodles could be when you’re snowed in, half-frozen, and pretending not to starve in front of your nemesis.

Y/N tried to ignore it.

Harry stirred the pot slowly, adding the seasoning packets like he was cooking for a five-star review. When the noodles were ready, he ladled them into two mismatched ceramic bowls and grabbed a pair of forks.

He approached the couch and, without a word, set one steaming bowl down on the coffee table in front of her.

She glanced at it.

Then back at him.

“It’s not poisoned,” he said, settling into the other end of the couch. “But if it was, honestly? I’d be impressed with myself.”

She glared. Her stomach growled again.

He wiggled his brows. “You gonna eat it or dramatically waste it to prove a point?”

Y/N let out a low groan and snatched the bowl. “I hate you.”

“You say that,” Harry said, twirling noodles onto his fork, “but you’re eating my food. Sitting in my firelight. Basking in my radiant charm.”

“Basking in your delusions.”

They both dug in, the room quiet except for the clink of forks and the soft whistle of wind outside. For a long stretch of time, they didn’t speak. Just ate. And sat. And didn’t hate it.

The silence felt different now.

Not stiff.

Not hostile.

Just… warm.

Y/N leaned back into the couch when her bowl was empty, curling the blanket tighter around her legs. Harry remained at the other end, his posture loose, gaze on the fire.

“You know,” he said, voice soft, “if this storm keeps up, I’m calling dibs on the big blanket tomorrow.”

She didn’t look over. “I’ll smother you with it.”

He chuckled, low and rough. “Sounds romantic.”

They lapsed into silence again, but this time it was laced with something unspoken. 

Something new.

The fire crackled, burning low and golden. The storm continued to rage outside, but inside, it felt distant. Muted.

Eventually, Harry stood and gathered their empty bowls, placing them in the sink before returning to the couch with a heavy sigh. He dropped beside her again, lounging like it was his right.

She gave him a look. “You have your own space.”

“And yet,” he said, propping his feet on the coffee table, “this couch is cozy. Candle-lit. Warm. And you didn’t tell me to leave.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned back to her book. She flipped a page, pretending to be immersed in the story—but his presence was louder than any paragraph.

After a few minutes, he tilted his head toward her.

“What are you reading?”

She didn’t look up. “You wouldn’t care.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It’s not a comic or a sports article, so…”

He smirked. “You’re adorable when you’re judgmental.” She ignored that. 

“Come on,” he said, nudging her with his foot. “Read it out loud.”

She glanced at him, confused. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Your voice is nice. And the wind sounds like it’s trying to eat the house. Distract me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “No.”

“You owe me.”

“For what?”

“For feeding you. I could’ve made one bowl. I made two. That’s sacrifice.”

“That’s survival.”

“Still counts.”

She sighed, long and theatrical, then flipped back to the top of the chapter. “Fine. But if you interrupt me, I stop.”

He grinned and held up both hands. “Scout’s honor.”

Y/N cleared her throat and began reading, her voice steady and calm. The flickering fire beside them cast moving shadows along the walls, and Harry leaned back, watching her with quiet interest.

For once, he didn’t interrupt.

He didn’t tease.

He just listened.

She wasn’t used to that—not from him. But something about the way he was looking at her made her cheeks warm. Made her voice wobble just slightly before she caught herself.

She read until the end of the chapter, then gently folded the corner of the page and shut the book.

“There,” she said. “Happy?”

Harry blinked slowly, like waking from a dream. “That’s where it ends?”

“Yes. Thats the end of the chapter." 

“That’s criminal. Rachel’s about to ruin her life.”

“You were actually paying attention?”

“Obviously. She slept with Dex, Darcy's Fiance. There’s no turning back now.”

Y/N stared at him. “You know all their names?”

“I’m invested,” he said seriously. “You roped me into a soap opera.”

She laughed before she could stop herself—a soft, reluctant sound that made Harry smile wider. 

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered.

“And you,” he said, shifting closer, “are kind of cute when you read." 

She scoffed. “You’re pushing it.”

He held out his hand. “Give me the book. I’ll read the next chapter.”

“You?”

“I have a British accent. It’ll be very dramatic.”

She rolled her eyes, but handed it over.

Harry adjusted on the couch, stretching his legs out with the book in his lap. He cleared his throat with exaggerated flair.

“Chapter Nine,” he announced in a mock-theatrical voice. “The morning after, I woke up feeling guilty… but not quite guilty enough.”

Y/N groaned, pulling the blanket over her face. 

“Regret.”

“Shh. I’m reading.”

To her surprise, he wasn’t half bad. His voice, while occasionally dramatic for effect, dipped low and smooth at the right moments. His pacing was steady, and when he didn’t know a word, he rolled right through it like it didn’t matter. And it didn’t—not when he made the story sound like it belonged to him.

She peeked out from under the blanket and studied him quietly.

Harry’s curls had fallen into his face again, his lips moving softly with each line. His brow furrowed a little when the main character said something reckless. His mouth twitched into a smirk when the tension in the story spiked. He was... focused. Softened by firelight. And honestly, kind of beautiful.

Y/N blinked that thought away immediately. Nope. No. Absolutely not.

But then he stopped again—mid-sentence—and raised his brows with that familiar, knowing grin.

“Oh, this one’s good,” he said, holding the book up like it was evidence. Then he read, “‘I knew I was flirting. And I knew he was flirting back. But I also knew I wouldn’t stop.’”

Y/N groaned. “Okay, that’s enough.”

Harry looked over the top of the book, grinning. “You sure? Sounds familiar.”

“In what world?”

“In this cabin. Right now.”

“You are delusional.”

He laughed, eyes crinkling. “Maybe. But you’re smiling.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to hide the curve of her mouth. “Back to reading, pretty boy.”

Harry paused. Blinked. Then slowly smiled—this time softer. More real.

“You think I’m pretty?”

Y/N opened her mouth. Closed it.

There was something in the way he said it—like it wasn’t a joke this time. Like he really wanted to know. And with the firelight flickering behind him, casting a golden glow on his skin and catching in his lashes, she couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t.

She looked away, fingers tightening slightly in the blanket. “Shut up.”

Harry chuckled, but the grin he wore wasn’t teasing now—it was warm. Gentle. The kind of smile that lingered, even after he turned back to the page.

He cleared his throat and read on, but Y/N wasn’t really listening anymore.

Because now she was the one sneaking glances.

And for the first time since they’d gotten snowed in…

She wasn’t sure if she hated it.

She turned her attention back to the fire—but it was no use. Her eyes kept drifting back to him. To the way he absently tapped the side of the book with his finger.

She didn’t realize she was slipping until her head gently tilted toward the arm of the couch. Her eyelids blinked slower. The warmth of the room, the steady cadence of his voice, the way her body had finally stopped fighting—all of it lulled her deeper.

By the time Harry flipped the next page, she was completely still.

He glanced over.

Y/N was curled up in her corner of the couch, her face relaxed, her lips parted slightly in sleep. One hand still held the edge of the blanket, like she’d tried to fight it, but lost.

He smiled to himself and lowered the book.

“You couldn’t hang, huh?” he whispered.

Carefully, he set the book down on the coffee table, then turned back toward her. She looked peaceful—peaceful in a way he’d never seen her. All the snark and sharp edges melted off, just warmth and soft lashes and slow breaths.

Harry hesitated.

Then he reached behind her, grabbed the throw blanket and gently draped it over her. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake.

He paused a moment longer, looking at her.

He’d spent years getting under her skin. 

Teasing her, pushing her, watching her snap back at him with fire in her voice. And yeah, he’d loved every second of it. But this? This quiet moment, where she trusted him enough to fall asleep beside him?

It undid something in him.

“Goodnight angry,” he murmured.

He considered heading to his room, giving her space—but the warmth of the fire, the soft light of the candles, and her presence just a few inches away kept him still.

So he stayed.

He shifted gently onto his side of the couch, pulling the blanket over himself, careful not to disturb her.

And for the first time since arriving, Harry didn’t feel like pretending he didn’t care.

He closed his eyes, the storm still whispering outside, and let sleep take him too.

//

Y/N stirred in her sleep, the creeping chill tugging her gently out of her dreams. Her nose twitched. Her fingers flexed, brushing against something warm and solid.

That was the first clue something was… off.

The rest hit her all at once.

There was a strong arm wrapped snug around her waist. A warm chest pressed up against her back. A leg—oh god, someone’s leg—tangled over hers. And she wasn’t cold. Not really. Not where they were touching. She was actually kind of… cozy?

Still half-asleep, she nestled into the warmth, letting herself enjoy it for a moment. Whoever it was, they were warm and still and—

Wait.

Wait.

That scent.

Cedarwood. Laundry detergent. Trouble.

Her eyes snapped open.

No. No, no, no.

She shifted her head slowly, heart beginning to race as her gaze dropped to the pale arm curled tightly around her midsection. That was not her blanket. That was a man. And that—

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice rasping out into the quiet.

In one sharp motion, she jolted upright like she’d just discovered a tarantula in her bed. 

The blanket flew off, and Harry groaned behind her, arm flopping where she’d been.

“What the—”

He blinked up at her, bleary-eyed and confused, his curls a mess and his voice thick with sleep. “Why’d you move? We were warm.”

Y/N stared at him like she was trying to manifest fire from her pupils. “Were we cuddling?!”

Harry yawned. “It’s called body heat, sweetheart.”

She scrambled off the couch like she’d been electrocuted. “No. Nope. No, no, no.”

Still lounging on his side, Harry propped his head up with one hand, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For saving your life. It’s called survival cuddling.”

“I’d rather freeze to death.”

“You didn’t seem to mind a second ago.”

Her mouth opened. Then closed. Because damn it, she had liked it just for a second. Before she realized who it was. Before Harry’s obnoxious charm showed up at full volume.

She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders like armor. “I must’ve been sleep-deprived. Or delusional.”

Harry stretched lazily, unbothered and still shirtless. “I’m a great cuddler, Y/N. It’s okay to admit that.”

“You spooned me like a heat-seeking missile.”

He grinned. “You were the one radiating warmth.”

She gave him a flat look. “You’re not cute.”

He shrugged. “You did call me pretty last night.”

“That was sarcasm.”

“Sure it was.”

Before she could fire back, a frigid gust whistled against the windows, and they both turned to glance at the hearth. The fire was completely out. Just ash and cold logs.

Y/N sighed and rubbed her arms. “Perfect. Now we’re actually gonna freeze.”

Harry sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll get more firewood. Don’t go passing out without me.”

“Trust me,” she muttered, stalking toward the kitchen. “You’ve cured me of any desire to sleep.”

As he disappeared into the hall to grab wood from the closet, she watched him go—shirtless, annoyingly tall, and still wearing that smug grin.

She scowled.

And yet, the ghost of warmth where he’d held her still lingered. And for some reason… that annoyed her most of all.

By the time Harry dragged himself off the floor and toward the stack of firewood in the back room, Y/N had wrapped herself in a blanket so tightly she looked like a grumpy little burrito—warm, silent, and very much Not In The Mood.

The cabin was freezing—again. The fire had gone out overnight, and without power, the chill seeped into everything that wasn’t pressed up against the hearth.

She didn’t say anything as Harry disappeared down the hall. When he returned with an armful of logs, she watched from the couch—quietly, like a cat perched on alert. He didn’t speak either, just dropped to his knees and got to work rebuilding the fire.

It only took him a few minutes to get it going again—he was weirdly good at it, crouched low in his hoodie and sweats, sleeves pushed up, curls falling into his eyes as he coaxed flames from kindling like he did this all the time.

And maybe he did.

Which was somehow more irritating.

Y/N pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, biting back the part of her brain that wanted to compliment him. Or at the very least... thank him.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

"Fire’s back," he said finally, brushing ash from his palms as he stood. The fire crackled again, warm golden light spilling across the cabin floor. “You’re welcome.”

She didn’t look up. “Congratulations on fulfilling basic survival instincts.”

"You really know how to say ‘thank you,’" he muttered, walking past her toward the kitchen. “And to think I was sensing improvement.”

Y/N didn’t respond. Instead, she reached into her tote bag and pulled out a tangled skein of golden-brown yarn and her favorite crochet hook—slipping into rhythm the moment the yarn touched her fingers. Hook. Pull. Twist. Loop. Her mind began to settle. A scarf, maybe. She didn’t care what it was. It was something to do with her hands while her brain spun in circles.

Across the room, she heard the familiar rustling of a duffel bag being unzipped. Water clinking into a small pot. The stove creaked open—still warm from last night—and a match hissed to life. No eggs this morning.

Just ramen. Again.

It was weirdly comforting.

She didn’t say anything, but her stomach did.

Harry didn’t even turn around. “Didn’t even argue this time. Growth.”

“I’m reserving my insults for later,” she said coolly, not looking up from her stitches.

“Save your energy,” he called back. “You’re gonna need it to slurp this world-class noodle masterpiece.”

“You mean boil noodles and dump powder in?”

“Gordon Ramsay’s shaking.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but kept crocheting. The crackle of the fire, the bubbling pot, and the smell of salty broth slowly warming the room—it was peaceful, in a weird, very not normal way.

Twenty minutes later, he appeared at the edge of her vision, holding out a ceramic bowl with a fork sticking out. 

She eyed it warily.

“It’s not poisoned,” he said, nudging it closer. 

“Unless you count sodium as a weapon.” Y/N took the bowl with a soft grunt of thanks, still not meeting his eyes.

Harry dropped onto the floor beside the couch, cross-legged, cradling his own bowl. “We’ve officially peaked. Noodles by candlelight.”

“You’re romanticizing instant ramen,” she muttered, digging in.

He slurped dramatically. “That’s because this is romantic.”

She smirked, barely.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, the kind of silence that was… not awkward. Not quite comfortable either. Something in between. Something new.

Y/N peeked at him once. Just once.

But of course, he caught her.

“What?” he asked, noodles hanging out of his mouth like a fool.

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“You were staring.”

“I was judging.”

“Same thing,” he said, swallowing. “But go ahead, admit it. I make excellent apocalypse noodles.”

She considered. “They’re edible.”

“High praise,” he said, mock-bowing his head.

When she finished her bowl, she set it aside and reached for her yarn again. Harry leaned back on one hand and watched her fingers move.

“So… that your new scarf?”

“Maybe.”

He watched a little longer, then added, “You always crochet when you’re annoyed?”

She didn’t look up. “It’s either this or fight someone.”

He snorted. “You’re full of sunshine.”

She kept going, calm and rhythmic. “Crochet doesn’t talk back. Doesn’t flirt. Doesn’t leave its socks everywhere.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I do none of those things.”

“You flirted with a squirrel yesterday.”

“That squirrel was asking for it.”

Y/N choked on a laugh and shook her head. The moment stretched, softening like dough under a rolling pin. No tension. No snark. Just two people thawing—slowly—beside the fire.

Harry tilted his head, eyeing her half-finished piece. “Make me something?”

She looked at him like he had sprouted antlers. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Because I’ll wear it. And think of you every time I do.”

“That’s supposed to make me want to make you something?”

His grin widened. “Come on. I’d look good in something you made.”

Y/N paused, stared at him, then muttered, “A muzzle.”

Harry laughed—really laughed. Not one of his smug little chuckles or sarcastic scoffs, but a genuine, warm burst of amusement that crinkled his eyes and curled his dimples.

She wasn’t used to hearing that kind of laugh from him.

She definitely wasn’t used to liking it.And that unsettled her more than the blizzard howling outside. It cracked something open in her chest, something quiet and hesitant and unfamiliar.

They fell into an easy silence after that. The fire glowed steadily now, golden and soft, casting lazy shadows on the cabin walls. Their ramen bowls sat empty on the floor beside them. Y/N’s yarn moved between her fingers like it had a heartbeat of its own—loop, pull, twist, repeat. Soothing, steady. But her eyes kept drifting, flicking toward him more often than she wanted to admit.

Then Harry leaned forward and picked up the book they’d started the night before—the same one she’d read to him by candlelight. His thumb brushed over the dog-eared corner he'd folded down before he fell asleep.

“I could read a bit more,” he said casually, already flipping it open. “Unless you’re too busy knitting me a muzzle.”

“It’s crochet,” she corrected, without missing a stitch.

He smirked. “Still not denying it.”

“I’m considering gag options.”

“Charming,” he murmured with a grin, already settling back into the couch. He adjusted until he was half-reclined again, legs stretched out and the book open on his lap. The firelight danced across his face and the worn paperback, softening both in a way that made her throat tighten unexpectedly.

Y/N didn’t stop him.

Didn’t tease.

Didn’t even roll her eyes.

Instead, she just kept crocheting as his voice filled the room again—low and warm and surprisingly steady, each word threading between them like another row in the blanket between her hands.

The fire crackled quietly, a low hum behind Harry’s words. Outside, the wind pressed against the windows like a whisper, muffled by thick snow. Inside, everything felt smaller. Closer.

Safer.

Before they knew it Time clicked away,  Harry read without pause, his voice dipping with tension, rising with humor. The tips of his fingers tapped the page as he spoke. He didn’t rush. Didn’t perform. It almost felt like he forgot she was there—like he read for himself.

Y/N curled her legs beneath her and tried to focus on her stitches, but her hands were stiff with cold. The blanket wrapped around her wasn’t cutting it anymore. The fire helped, sure—but her body craved something more immediate. Something warm and alive.

Something like the man sitting next to her.

She told herself it was just the temperature. Just comfort. Just necessity.

But her body was already leaning before her mind caught up.

First, her shoulder brushed against his arm.

Harry’s eyes flicked to her, a quiet glance, but he didn’t stop reading. He didn’t flinch or shift away. Instead, he adjusted slightly, tilting the book so she could see the page better. His posture relaxed, the corner of the throw blanket brushing her knee now.

It was a silent invitation.

She didn’t pull back.

A few pages later, her knee nudged against his.

Then the blanket slipped off one shoulder, goosebumps rising instantly along her skin.

Without missing a word, Harry reached behind them, grabbed the thicker throw blanket draped over the couch, and gently, wordlessly laid it across both of them. His hand grazed her arm in the process—warm and steady, grounding her like an anchor.

Y/N’s breath caught.

It was subtle.

Barely anything.

But somehow… it was everything.

She didn’t lean away. Didn’t speak.

She just listened—to the story, to the fire, to the steady, deliberate rhythm of his voice beside her.

And when she finally let her hook fall into her lap, resting her yarn beside her, she didn’t even notice her head tipping onto his shoulder.

She should’ve shifted. Should’ve made a sarcastic quip. Should’ve rebuilt the distance they’d so carefully maintained since the moment they met.

But instead… she let it happen.

Harry didn’t speak. Didn’t tease.

His arm moved slowly behind her back, slipping across her shoulders and resting with gentle weight along the curve of her body. He didn’t squeeze. Didn’t pull. Just held her—warm and patient, as if he’d known all along she would fold eventually.

He read on like nothing had changed.

But it had.

Y/N sat curled beneath his arm, blanket pooled around them both, the steady rise and fall of his voice softening into something she hadn’t let herself feel in a long time—safe. It wasn’t the story anymore that had her full attention. It was him. The way his chest moved beneath her cheek. The slow cadence of his breathing. The warmth that radiated off him like a second fire.

Her fingers twitched slightly beneath the blanket and—without meaning to—came to rest lightly over his chest.

Harry’s voice faltered for half a second. Barely noticeable. But she heard it.

He cleared his throat, blinked down at the page, and continued reading.

The book was hitting its emotional stride. Rachel was unraveling. Dex was making excuses. Darcy was still in the dark. The drama should’ve made Y/N roll her eyes—but now, it felt different. Like every word was being read not just aloud, but to her.

Specifically.

Intentionally.

And yet, it wasn’t performative. There was no smugness, no smirk on his face. Harry wasn’t playing a role anymore. He was just a boy reading a book, holding a girl who used to swear she hated him.

Somewhere around the middle of the chapter, her eyes started to flutter shut. Not from boredom. Not even from sleep. But from the calm—the peace—that had settled deep in her chest.

Her head dropped fully onto his shoulder. She felt his muscles tense just a little. Then relax again.

She didn’t mean to nuzzle closer.

But she did.

And he didn’t stop her.

His hand shifted slightly, brushing up her arm until it rested at the bend of her shoulder. The pads of his fingers touched her like she might disappear if he held too tight.

She didn’t.

She stayed.

By the time he finished the chapter, the room had gone quiet again.

He glanced down at her.

Y/N was still awake—barely—but her eyes were half-lidded, lashes brushing her cheeks, mouth parted the slightest bit. Her fingers were still resting against his chest. Her body tucked along his side like it had always belonged there.

Harry closed the book slowly and rested it on the table.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t want to break the moment.

Instead, he looked at her. Really looked.

She wasn’t scowling.

Wasn’t rolling her eyes.

Wasn’t biting back a sharp remark.

She just looked… soft.

Warm.

Real.

Like someone he hadn’t fully met yet—but wanted to.

He exhaled slowly and let his head fall back against the cushion. One arm still around her, his other hand drifted beneath the blanket and found her wrist, thumb brushing gently against her skin.

///

The room was quiet now.

Outside, the wind had calmed, settling into a gentle hush as snow drifted steadily from the sky. Inside, the fire burned low—an amber flicker casting long, slow shadows across the wood-paneled walls. The candles had melted into puddles at their bases, the scent of wax and cedar still hanging faintly in the air.

Y/N stirred.

She blinked slowly, breath catching as her brain registered warmth. Not just from the fire—but from beneath her. Around her.

Soft cotton brushed her cheek.

A rhythmic rise and fall pressed against her ear.

She was warm—warmer than she had been in days.

And then… she realized why.

She was in Harry’s lap.

Her entire body, tucked up in the fetal position, was curled over him like he was a makeshift mattress. Her head rested against his chest, right over his heart. One of his arms cradled her back, the other resting lazily on the armrest. Her legs were folded across the couch cushions—but she was definitely on him.

Panic flared first. Sharp and fast.

She jolted upright a little too quickly, like she’d just realized she’d been snuggling the devil himself. “Oh my god,” she breathed.

Harry, still half-asleep, cracked one eye open. His lashes were mussed, his curls a soft halo around his face, and his T-shirt was wrinkled from the weight of her cheek. He looked far too good for someone just waking up.

A crooked smirk curved his lips. “Well, well,” he murmured, voice deep and sleep-slicked. “Look who decided to wake up.”

She stared at him, still trying to get her brain to reboot. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

“You were out cold,” he said, stretching slightly beneath her. “Didn’t move when I shifted. Or when the fire popped. Or when I put the blanket back on you.”

“I—” She paused, biting her lip. “I thought I fell asleep on the couch.”

He blinked. “You did. I just happened to be part of it.”

She groaned and flopped forward again, face hitting his chest with a muffled thud. “God. This is humiliating.”

“Disagree,” he said lightly, his fingers brushing her arm through the blanket. “You’re surprisingly cuddly.”

“I’m cold,” she mumbled into his shirt.

“You’re clingy,” he corrected.

“You’re annoying.”

“And yet, here we are.”

His arm was still around her—loose, casual, but firm enough to remind her just how close they’d gotten. Her hand was resting on his stomach, blanket slipped halfway off her shoulder, and she hadn’t even noticed.

She thought about pulling away again. She really did.

But the fire was barely burning, and his chest was warm, and his voice sounded like home in a way it had absolutely no right to.

So she stayed.

Harry didn’t say anything more. Just shifted a little to give her more room, then leaned his head back and exhaled softly through his nose. His fingers trailed slow, absentminded circles on the back of her sweatshirt—barely-there movements, rhythmic and comforting.

Y/N's pulse thudded louder in her ears.

This wasn’t just convenience. This wasn’t just about staying warm.

It was something else.

Eventually, she whispered, “You’re not… what I thought you were.”

Harry tilted his head just enough to glance down at her. “No?”

“I mean, you are. Kind of. But also not.”

He chuckled. “That clears it up.”

She pulled the blanket higher. “I mean… I thought you were all talk. Just ego and flirting and jokes.”

“I am.”

“But you’re also…” She trailed off.

Softer.

Sweeter.

Steadier than she wanted to admit.

Harry smiled lazily. “You can say devastatingly charming. I won’t stop you.”

She elbowed him lightly. “Shut up.”

He laughed again—low and genuine—and this time it tugged something loose in her chest.

For a while, they didn’t say anything. Just laid there, tangled under the blanket, breathing in sync.

Y/N’s eyes began to droop again. Her fingers curled loosely into the hem of his T-shirt. Harry’s hand never stopped tracing her back. The fire crackled, and somewhere between the silence and the comfort, she let herself drift off again

/

The morning sunlight crept in slow and honeyed, stretching long arms across the hardwood floors and casting warm halos around the quiet room. The fire had burned down to ash, leaving only a faint smell of smoke and the chilled hush of a new day. But still, there was warmth.

Because of him.

Y/N stirred, her face nestled against smooth cotton and bare skin. Her cheek rested squarely on Harry’s chest—his shirt nowhere in sight. One of his arms was tucked behind his head, the other curled tightly around her waist, anchoring her to him. Her thigh draped across his, tangled under the thick blanket that had slipped slightly to reveal the sculpted lines of his stomach.

She blinked slowly.

Took in the rise and fall of his chest beneath her ear. The way his hand rested just beneath her ribs. His scent—soap, firewood, and something inherently him.

And for the briefest, most dangerous moment… she smiled.

It was peaceful. Soothing.

Safe.

And then—the creak.

The front door groaned against the cold.

Voices.

Footsteps crunching snow on the porch. A laugh. A loud, familiar one.

Her heart stopped.

She jolted upright like she’d been electrocuted. “Oh my God—”

Harry stirred, a low sleepy groan rumbling in his chest. “What—?”

She was already wriggling out of his arms, panicking, shoving the blanket aside with a flurry of limbs and regret. Her bare foot hit the cold floor. “Shit, shit, shit—”

“Y/N?” he mumbled, voice gravelly and dazed.

Too late.

The door flew open with a ding from the old bell overhead, and cold air rushed in.

Jessica stomped into the cabin first, wrapped in a marshmallow of a puffer coat, cheeks flushed from the snow. “Y/N! You’re still alive!”

Y/N, halfway to standing, scrambled upright and grabbed the nearest throw blanket, hugging it around her like armor. She forced a tight smile, trying not to breathe like she’d just been sprinting across landmines.

“Hey,” she choked out. “Glad you made it safely.”

Behind Jessica, a second girl stepped inside—shaking snow from her coat, eyes bright and curious.

Taylor.

Long, shiny waves of chestnut-brown hair framed her face like a shampoo commercial. Her skin glowed against the cold, and her bright blue eyes immediately scanned the room like she was taking inventory of the space—and the people in it. 

Y/N felt her stomach twist.

Not because Taylor wasn’t nice. But because she was perfect. The kind of effortless pretty that made you question your own reflection. And the way she looked at Harry when her eyes landed on him?

Well. That said enough.

Harry, who was only just now sitting up, blinked blearily, shirtless and still blanket-wrapped. His curls were messy. His voice was thick with sleep. “Morning…”

Taylor stopped mid-step, jaw slightly slack.

Jessica’s brows rose as her eyes ping-ponged from Harry’s bare chest to Y/N’s flustered appearance.

“Did we interrupt something?” Jessica asked, too casual to be casual.

Y/N snorted—too loud, too fake. “No. No! God, no. I was just… up early. Reading.”

Taylor blinked slowly, eyes still glued to Harry like she hadn’t heard a word. “Hi,” she said, smiling. “You must be Harry.”

Harry rubbed his eyes, squinting toward the sound of her voice. “Uh… I think so?”

Jessica smirked. “He’s usually a little more charming once he’s fully conscious.”

Taylor giggled, stepping farther into the room, but Harry’s gaze had already drifted past her—landing briefly on Y/N.

She wasn’t looking at him.

She was looking anywhere but him.

Still, he caught the way her fingers clenched tighter around the blanket at her chest. The flush across her cheeks that wasn’t from the cold.

Y/N turned her back quickly, darting toward the kitchen, mumbling something about tea.

Jessica didn’t miss it.

Behind her, Harry stood, blanket slipping down slightly as he stretched. His skin glowed in the morning light, shadows cutting across his arms and torso like artwork. Taylor’s stare was hungry. Obvious.

“Ohh its so cold in here” Taylor sad sweetly.

Harry yawned and reached for his shirt. 

“Yeah. I’ll go grab some more firewood.”

As he padded past, Taylor turned to watch him, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip just slightly.

Y/N, from the kitchen, poured water into the kettle a little too forcefully.

Jessica leaned against the counter, one eyebrow cocked. “You good?”

“Peachy,” Y/N muttered.

Jessica smirked. “You’re glowing.”

Y/N gave her a look. “I’m actually coming down from high after thinking someone was breaking in to kill us.”

“Uh huh.”

Behind them, the door creaked again as Harry stepped into the back room to get firewood, and Taylor moved a little further just to watch him. 

Y/N stared down at the tea kettle, face tight.

Jessica studied her best friend for a moment, then casually said, “So You and didn't kill each other?" 

[aventurineswife]

Hello, my sweetheart!

Today’s request shall be: Sunday, Aventurine, Dan Heng—With a reader who likes to pretend they’re asleep in order to see how their partner reacts. Whether it’s in the morning to prolong their cuddles, or curious if they leave them be or “wake” them up. 🤭💙❕Bonus when the men know their partner is still awake and either teases them or plays along.

Soft Lies and Sleepy Smiles

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Fluff, Domestic Moments, Playful Teasing, Established Relationships, Light Banter, Soft/Affectionate Moments, Subtle Intimacy.

Warnings: Mild suggestiveness, Mentions of past trauma (Implied for Sunday & Dan Heng, but not explored in depth), Minor physical contact (Soft touches, forehead flick, kisses), Aventurine being a smug menace (Because of course), Sunday’s quiet intensity (He’s poetic and a little too smooth for his own good), Dan Heng’s understated softness.

A/N: Hi lovely!! Thank you for this hehe, I hope you like it!! 🤭💙✨ Ignore any mistakes, I'm writing this at like 3:28 am 🧍‍♀️🙏😭

Tagslist: @themiddletenmasibling

The warmth of the Astral Express' quarters felt almost unreal—soft golden light filtering through the curtains, the gentle hum of the train beneath you, and Sunday’s slow, steady breaths beside you.

He was always an early riser, preferring quiet contemplation in the mornings. But today, as you lay curled against him, you decided to stay still, feigning sleep just to see what he’d do.

For a while, he didn’t move. His eyes remained on you, a silent observer as his fingers traced idle patterns against your arm. Then, barely above a whisper—

"You're awake, aren't you?"

You held your breath, keeping up the act.

A soft chuckle. The kind that barely touched the air but sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers grazed the edge of your jaw, the flutter of his wings betraying his amusement.

"It’s unlike you to be this still," he mused, voice like the quiet ripple of a dream. "But if you insist on pretending..."

He shifted, drawing you closer—enough for you to feel his breath against your temple. His halo gleamed faintly in the dim light, golden and unblinking, like an ever-watchful eye.

Then, just as you thought he’d let you continue the charade, Sunday whispered something against your ear, so soft it sent heat rushing to your cheeks.

"Would it be cruel to wake you with a kiss? Or shall I let you remain lost in your dreamscape?"

Your resolve wavered. The warmth of his lips barely ghosted over your cheek, and you couldn't help it—a tiny twitch of your mouth, a sharp inhale.

His hand, featherlight, cupped your cheek.

"Caught you," he murmured, voice laced with quiet victory.

You peeked open an eye, meeting his gentle yet knowing gaze. A smirk tugged at his lips.

"Next time, love, you’ll have to try a little harder."

Aventurine was warm. Unfairly so, draped lazily beside you in bed, the fur-lined edges of his overcoat tossed haphazardly over the chair nearby. The morning light slanted through the window, painting soft golds and deep greens across the room.

You, ever the curious one, decided to play a game.

Eyes closed, body perfectly relaxed—you stayed still, waiting to see how he’d react.

For a moment, there was silence. Then—

"Hah, what’s this? A little trick from my darling?"

His voice was honeyed, teasing. You felt the mattress dip as he shifted, his hand brushing ever so gently against your exposed shoulder.

"You’re terribly convincing, I’ll give you that."

There was a pause, and then—a sharp flick to your forehead.

Your body betrayed you. A reflexive twitch.

"Ah-ha! You flinched!" His laugh was rich with amusement. "Sorry, sweetheart, but you’ll have to bluff better than that."

You groaned, cracking an eye open. Aventurine grinned down at you, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"I’ll have to reward you for the effort, though. Tell me, love—should I make it up to you with breakfast, or perhaps…" He leaned in, his breath ghosting against your lips. "Something sweeter?"

You rolled your eyes, but your heart raced nonetheless.

"Cheat," you muttered.

"Always," he replied, pressing a playful kiss to your forehead.

The gentle rocking of the Astral Express made for the perfect excuse to stay in bed a little longer. Dan Heng, ever composed, lay beside you, his breaths steady and deep.

You decided to test him. Would he wake you? Leave you be? Perhaps... tease you?

You kept your breaths even, your face perfectly serene. A few minutes passed before you felt him stir.

Soft movements. The rustling of sheets.

Then, ever so carefully, you felt his fingers brush against yours—hesitant, barely there.

You almost smiled.

He knew.

Rather than calling you out, he played along. His hand shifted, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Then, a whisper, barely above the hum of the train.

"If you want more sleep, I’ll let you rest."

A pause. His fingertips ghosted over your knuckles, almost as if he was hesitant to let go.

"But I’d rather you stay with me a little longer."

Your resolve broke. Slowly, you opened your eyes, meeting his steady gaze. A small smile tugged at his lips—soft, barely there, but unmistakable.

"Good morning," he murmured.

And just like that, you melted.

[written-and-readen]

The Odds Are Slim But Never Zero Part 2

Jing Yuan, Sunday, Gallagher x fem!reader (separate)

Part 1 (Dan Heng, Luka, Blade), Part 3 (Moze, Phainon, Sampo)

Summary: Someone walks in on you

Warnings: nsfw (18+), penetrative sex (Jing Yuan, Sunday), fingering (Jing Yuan, Gallagher), public sex (Gallagher, the bar is empty but still), getting caught

a/n: Sunday has been acquired. He’s so pretty. I have some other writing ideas for him but his character is hard for me so who knows.

Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan is irresistible. It’s so, so hard to say no to him, which is probably how you ended up here. His hands have slowly slipped off each of your garments one by one as rays of early morning sun flood into the bedroom.

“Beautiful as always.” His voice is still laced with the remnants of sleep as he roams your body.

“And you’re eager.” You gasp when his hand comes up around your breast, giving it a light squeeze. It’s not enough to distract you from his erection poking your thigh though. “Really eager.”

“I’d like to think of it as appreciating my dear wife as often as possible.” Your back arches when two fingers push into your pussy. Your whines become the only sound in the room as starts up a steady rhythm of pumping in and out of you. You don’t think to warn him when you’re close. He can always tell without you having to say a word. Few things evade the Divine Foresight’s notice after all.

“Jing Yuan!” You cry out. He responds by pressing kisses to your shoulder while you fall apart on his fingers.

“Will you allow me to take care of my little problem?” He says after you shift around to face him.

“I think ‘little’ is poor word choice.” You pull him into a kiss, mumbling against his lips as he moves on top of you. Jing Yuan chuckles, leaning into your kiss. He throws the sheets aside, fully exposing every inch of you to his golden eyes. He pulls his cock out, poking the tip at your entrance before looking you in the eye.

“Ready?” The careful consideration of his words somehow makes you fall in love with him all over again.

“As I’ll ever be,” You reply, breath stolen the moment you get out the last word by his length pushing into you. Your hands grip white hair as you lose yourself in the pleasure, feeling your husband litter kisses around your collarbone.

“General!” You’re snapped from your trance by the door being burst open by a Cloud Knight. Jing Yuan is swift to grab the sheets to block you from anyone’s view but his own.

“What is it?” You recognize his voice take on the decisive tone fit for a general.

“U-Uh, Lieutenant Yanqing wanted to let you know that he’s resolved the recent incident involving the missing cycranes. The culprit has been sent to the Realm Keeping Commission.” You commend him for keeping a mostly calm front aside from a few stutters here and there to give away his embarrassment.

“Thank you for the news.” Your husband doesn’t even have to verbally dismiss the knight before you hear his retreating footsteps and the door close.

“You need to tell the boy he can just write up a report in the future.” Your voice keens when Jing Yuan moves again, reminding you of his cock still buried inside you.

“He means well.” His tone softens to the one reserved only for you as his hands find a place on your hips once more. “Now where were we?” Jing Yuan is insatiable, but so hard to say no to.

Sunday

“Give me a minute,” Sunday says through gritted teeth. He’s currently bottomed out in your pussy trying not to cum right then and there. The way your walls perfectly hug his cock has him lost in you.

“Take your time.” You brush his bangs out of his eyes while giving him the sweetest look, and Sunday thinks he’s going to die. Then, there’s the way you suddenly tighten around him. It has his forehead falling into the crook of your neck.

You never imagined someone as composed as Sunday could be like this. Your hands run through his hair, and you try not to get poked by his halo as you wait for him to gather himself. The way he fills you up certainly has you wanting him to start moving, but his comfort comes first. You have to at least let him think he’s in control.

Your eyes are drawn by the door to your room sliding open. It’s Himeko and Welt, probably checking in on how the newest passenger is doing. Himeko’s eyes widen upon meeting yours, but she sends you a soft smile that makes your cheeks burn. You silently wave a hand to send them away, but Welt is already closing the door.

“What was that?” Sunday lifts his head at the sound of the door.

“Nothing!” You reach both hands up to cradle his face. “Just keep your eyes on me.”

Yeah, Sunday’s sure you’ll be the death of him.

Gallagher

It’s so hot as your lips move against Gallagher’s. Your body feels like it’s on fire, the heat frying your brain so you can barely process anything other than him. Rough hands sneak under your shirt and skirt, holding you right where he wants you.

The two of you were supposed to be closing up Dreamjolt Hostelry for the night after Siobhan left, but one kiss led to another which led to Gallagher hoisting you onto the counter, positioning himself between your legs as you made out. You gasped when one of his hands travelled to rub you through your panties.

“Here?” You murmured nervously, pulling away from him for a second.

“I can finish up here and then we’ll head back to Dreamflux Reef if you want.” That distance in comparison to the proximity of his fingers to your sex right now had you crashing your lips back against his.

“Feeling risky today?” He chuckled at your sudden boldness.

“Just make it quick.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Gallagher tugs your panties down your legs before pocketing them. He warms you up with one finger, then adds another for a minute before three fingers are fucking you mercilessly. You lay your forehead on his shoulder, your ability to sit up straight melting away as the heat from your core spreads through your whole body.

“You couldn’t keep it in your pants until you got out of here?” A new heat rises to your cheeks as both you and Gallagher turn to see Siobhan, catching you both red handed with a look of disbelief. “I’m never forgetting my phone here ever again. You guys owe me lunch after this. Make that lunch for the rest of the week.” She sighs, leaving before either of you can get a word out, but the shock certainly hasn’t left.

“We should leave,” you both agree in unison. Gallagher lifts you off the counter, licking up some of your juices from his fingers after slipping them out.

“Sweeter than a dream.” He smiles at your flushed face before grabbing a dish rag to get rid of any incriminating evidence. The two of you make quick work of closing the place down with Gallagher eventually locking the door. You wrap your arms around his own as you leave.

“Are you going to give me back my panties yet?”

“Why would I? That saves us one step when we get back home.”

[rhenuvee]

Playing Animal Crossing New Horizons with HSR Men

Warnings: ugly villager slander, established relationship (can be platonic or romantic)

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Argenti: Your fellow knight of beauty grows quite fond of the game, immediately finding the freedom of creativity in decoration endearing. He always gives you compliments on your OOTD, and takes screenshots whenever you design a new area on your island. Argenti gave himself the gardening job- spending his bells on red rose seeds. He gets proficient in following the flower guide, and is very proud of himself if he ever gets a golden rose on your island. He loves the villagers, finding them each very cute, and even beauty in the "ugly" villagers. "Did you see the villagers wearing the red rose on their head? I must say I am flattered they love it so much. Though, I am more happy that they appreciate the beauty of our island." He enjoys documenting the beautiful places in your island with photos <3

Aventurine: From the beginning he points out the fact that Tom Nook is a capitalist, which makes you roll your eyes thinking he thinks this game is silly. However, it is quite the opposite as it doesn't take him long to get out of his home loan debt and is somehow extremely lucky. It's unfair to you that he could just log in on any given day and have the best deal for turnips. However because you are his favourite he says he’s willing to buy you whatever you want, he guesses. He happens to be able to catch rare species like the Coelacanth, and it infuriates you but you really can't be if it's helping the museum. "445 bells per turnip, sounds like music to my ears~" "What's that? You want this violin? Well I guess I could spare you a few bells... is one million okay?"

Blade: Let's not kid ourselves here- it takes a lot of convincing and help from Silver Wolf to get him to even be in the presence of Animal Crossing. He says he would much rather stand and look at the wall (SW: "You already do that everyday"). Eventually he sits himself next to you, and listens to your giddy rambling about what to do in the game while he puts on a serious face not saying anything. After the preliminary tutorial/startup gameplay, he finally says, “…why is this rat harassing me for money.” However, the loans aren't the worst but the villagers chasing him down are. He purposely ignores them and grumbles when you tell him to answer ):/. He prefers to watch you play, but because he sees you smile and laugh at his sarcastic comments, he thinks it's not so bad.

Boothill: He's definitely down to try it out, but he ends up being a bit of a troll. He doesn't really mind cute/ugly villagers, until he judges them for what they say. “That’s right, (y/n) did catch all those fish.” “Did he just ask me if he could call me Muffin.” “WHAT DO YOU MEAN I GOTTA PAY ANOTHER LOAN?!!?” Yeah… he quickly feels the grindy-ness, complaining that Tom Nook was working him like a forkin’ dog. A little bit of comical rage, but he won’t lie he is enjoying it. He also asks if there are any guns and he is disappointed, so he opts for the net. He's a little rough and rowdy, but he does it in style. That being said, he 100% spends his extra bells on a cowboy outfit.

Dan Heng: He agrees instantly- aw :(. He knows you (and March) have been begging him to play. He’s is fairly good at it- gets out of the tent quickly, masters catching creatures, a nicely organized house… He’s quite resourceful too, chopping down trees and going to mystery islands to farm the heck out of it. The villagers love him, both of you often seeing them run to him with the little sparkly flowers. And even though he's normally serious, you can't help but fawn over how sweet he is with the villagers. "...She wants to call me Shmoopy, do I-" "YES." Villagers asking him to catch a fish? He's immediately on it. He remembers their names and treats them like real people :(

Dr. Ratio: "Is it educational?" Bro is such a nerd. You deadpan at him, and sass him for expecting this to be IXL or something. He is also one to get through the tutorial part easily. You expected him to be overly critical of the game, but he finds appreciation in the museum: both the creatures and the art. Is it a farfetched idea that I think he'd know how to tell the reals and fakes right off the bat? "Do you really think Da Vinci spilled coffee on his work?" At least it saves you the troubles of wasting your bells and getting a fake. I think your island would not be a mess, and would have at least a few statues (you know the ones) which add his touch to it.

Gallagher: Honestly he's happy as long as he gets a little area for himself. Kind of a wild card this one- somehow calm and chaotic at the same time, and it's puzzling because how is he doing such weird things with a straight face? Trolls the villagers quite a bit (he's lucky ACNH villagers are nice) by hitting them with a net (just once though) and giving them different catchphrases every time they ask. "Why is Bob saying 'spaghettini' at the end of his sentences?" "Um, because I thought it'd be funny? Also I'm kinda hungry so-" "Gallagher ):/" Despite the randomness, he is wholesome at times. He is also one to compliment your new outfit, and stargaze with you on the new area you decorated.

Gepard: He's busy so you weren't expecting too much from him, but he takes pride in having a well-rounded island. He gets so excited when he catches a new species that you don't have yet- what a cutie. Also goes full throttle when there's a bug-off or fishing tourney. Despite being a video game, I feel like there will be some way he messes up taking care of plants. The flowers overgrow, the turnips rot, and he doesn't understand why the trees aren't growing? But with some tips from you along with your island designing skills, your island rank moves up and he is BEAMING. "Zucker asked about you." "...he did?" "Mhm, he asked how you were doing, and said he saw you laying out pathways on the island."

Jing Yuan: He finds it so cute when you ask him to play. Lowkey like Blade where he likes watching your happy expressions when playing. He's happy that this game provides him a way to relax while not getting bored. Secretly an enjoyer of villager drama: "Wolfgang wants to apologize to Audie with this present. What happens if I don't deliver it?" "Again? Ah, just give it to her quickly." "...what if I don't." "...Jing Yuan." Oddly I feel like he'd enjoy the group stretching (what an old man), and encourages you to join. Like the "Dozing General" he is, there will be times when he's inactive and gets the bed head.

Luocha: You weren't expecting him to enjoy the game, but he's surprisingly willing to be resourceful. His storage is full of materials, which you scold him for because this is the reason for his empty undecorated house. But he always has things you need so you can't exactly complain. Also one to be pretty smart with managing bells and resources, able to maximize their worth. When the island gets visitors like Label or Flick, he has items ready. "Luocha... where did you get that coat?" "This? It's a designer piece, from Miss Label." I'd say he does have a sense of beauty in design, so thankfully your island is gorgeous.

Sampo: Sympathizes with Redd like a true scammer. "Aw look, he just needs a bit of money to get started... he even gave us a 'cousin's discount'." However, a rivalry starts with Redd when Sampo's first art piece turned out to be fake (scammer gets scammed moment). He asks if he can be the salesman that he's supposed to be. When villagers run up to him to offer bells for an item he has, he accepts thinking it'll get him a deal along the way. Unfortunately friendship gets you nowhere in terms of home loans. I'd say he's pretty good with the turnip stonks, so there's a balance. Also TRASH ISLAND. I'm sorry, but your man is a hoarder, "But what if I need this?" (Literally me.)

Welt: When you ask him to play he asks why the animals are crossing. He finds the style and characters are so cute, and he can see why you enjoy it. This is definitely a way he gets in touch with his "youthful" side. He loves the creative freedom in the game, even getting indecisive about how to design your island, and thinking of what outfit to wear. He once made a simple t-shirt for fun, but was surprised when he saw a villager wearing it. It'd be so cute and funny when he learns new emotes- and he just spams them with a straight face. Not gameplay related, but I feel like in his free time he'd draw you both in villager form <3.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

[n0tamused]

Welt nerding out about his little special interests and his tv show he likes and whatnot... Dr.Ratio going on and on about all his bath soaps and bath salts and whatever he has... Sunday snuggles and sleeping after a long and heavy day of work....

A/n: Sorry for taking so long pookie I hope you like these little imagines :( <3 mwah, ty for requesting <3

Contents: gn reader, separate drabbles for Sunday, Dr. Ratio and Welt, a bit angsty in Sunday's part, fluff otherwise

Gloved fingers held around the black stylus pen as it glided over the digital screen in a few precise strokes. The character on screen is becoming more and more alive, and looking over his shoulder you can see the several other frames that lay finished, resembling only the start of this little project you managed to convince Welt to partake in. 

“I take it you like it, right?” you ask, tiptoeing playfully around the direct question, prompting the man to laugh heartily, mirth seeping into the crinkles in his face. Leaning back in the chair he takes a small break from the lineart, adjusting his glasses before he look up at you where you stood at his side. 

“You’re spoiling me, you know?” he begins, his eyes mellow with a childlike wonder and joy that isn’t too often seen on his person these days. “Yes, I do like it, a lot. This tablet is even more advanced than the ones I was used to using back in my day. I mean, it holds so many functions, and the program itself has many great features to assist with the process - whether it be just one piece of art or a whole animation” His eyes gleam as he looks back at the screen, his eyes flickering over the corners of the canvas, the little icons and frames and the low opacity sketch of the animation.  

“That is a relief, and I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying it so much. You do deserve it, Mr. Yang” cooing at him softly you pat his shoulder and give him a light squeeze before taking note of what’s on screen. It’s a simple set of characters, and in a more cartoonish style - chibis, is what you heard them call this style. But the characters are oddly familiar to the crew itself.

“Huh..? Is that.. us?”

“Yes… Since this gift was from you, and also the crew has left its mark on this old heart, I thought that my first project on the tablet should be something special too.. Uh, wait..” He fumbles a bit with the frames and animation, brief images flickering of different character - Dan Heng surrounded with books, March 7th’s chibi showing a worried face as she stands next to a pot of Himeko’s coffee and Himeko looking pleased as she drinks from her mug, and there’s PomPom next to the Express, but what  gets your attention is the chibi version of yourself at the very start of the frame set. You’re sitting at a round table with a few chubby stars above you.

“Starting with you, I am first making an introduction to each character..”

“But where are you?”

“Hm?”

“I saw everyone in these, but not yourself? This crew is incomplete without you, Welt.. You should put us together in one frame. I mean, we can be drinking tea at the table together, right?"

Welt looks at you, then at the frame, noting the vacant left side of the big table. 

“You’re right…”

“Sunday..” sleepy mutters fall from your lips as you push yourself to sit on the big bed, the covers pooling at your hips. Your hand is lifted up to shield your eyes from the golden light that spilled from the hall. 

“Apologies... I'll turn the light off now.." comes a reply from the figure shrouded in darkness, but by silhouette alone you could tell him apart from another. His wings droop underneath his ears, showing that even the lightest parts of him felt the heaviness of today’s work. He swiftly but quietly slips into the hallway to turn the lights off, before his footsteps mark his return to the bedroom. Now you can only listen to him shuffle about, the heavy breathing making your heart throb from concern, but you know asking him about it wouldn’t grant you an answer.

So you wait until he lifts the bedsheets and until his palm searches for you across the vast expanse of the mattress. Taking his hand in yours you lead him to where you are, laying on your back and feeling the bed dip and move underneath you until Sunday has settled himself with his head on your chest. Sighing the biggest breath you heard from him so far, you tighten your hold on him, arms circling around his shoulders.

His arms wrapped around your waist as he had you both sinking further into the bed, desperate to feel your warmth, hear your peace and feel it rub off on him too. “I missed you…” he confessed, leaving a chaste kiss on your collarbone before his ear pressed above your heart, listening to the trapped drumming within. 

“I missed you too..” you reply, combing your fingers through his hair, feeling the wings around his waist stretch out for arguably the first time today, one wing shorter than the other, feathers cut halfway. 

“Rest now..” you prompt, kissing the top of his head and he hums into you, wanting nothing more than to dream of you and freedom with you.

"I told you to be a little more careful with which shampoos you purchased.." you heard him say when you pointed out how a particular shampoo on the shelf made your hair damaged the last time you used it. You sighed, in agreement with him, but as he plucked the bottle from the shelf you looked over the other products on the shelves, taking a hair mask container and putting it in your cart.

“See, this is why this shampoo didn’t sit well with you” Veritas says, looking over the ingredient list after catching sight of the logo of the producer, a sneer already on his face as he never had good experiences with this company’s products. 

You look over at him, holding onto the shopping cart with one hand as you peer at the bottle in his hand. “Oh, yeah- that one did have my hair feeling like hay.. ugh” you frown a little but as Veritas looks further down the ingredients list, you let your eyes wander over the shelves in search for a possible alternative - one that won’t leave your hair feeling dry and ready to snap. 

“Hmm…” Veritas looks up, his coral eyes looking over at you after he had returned the bottle onto the shelf. “Let me see..” he muttered, already reaching out to grasp a lock of your hair in between his fingers, twirling it for a moment before thinking hard about it. Then his eyes return to the vast selection of shampoos, reaching for a green bottle on a higher shelf. “Ah, this one would go well for your hair type. And it will regenerate whatever damage that other bottle left you with”

“Oh, let me smell it-” you whisper with soft excitement, forcing a huffed chuckle from Veritas as it seemed you cared more about the smell than what the shampoo actually had to offer. He shakes his head as he pops the lid open and brings it to your nose. 

“Does it smell good enough for you?” he asked, teasing laced in his words, but despite that he brought the bottle to his nose as well to inhale the light green apple smell. He relishes in the scent, imagining the way our hair would smell the same if you purchased this. 

“Ohh.. oh definitely, it smells so good. Give it here” you smile up at him and take the bottle to put in the cart. “I should ask you more often on this guru advice, Veritas, you’re more help than I gave you credit for” you playfully jab at him as you walk a few steps forward, looking at another section where bath salts and bath bombs lay. “Oh! Look at this!” you gleam as you pluck a round bath bomb colored blue. 

“Lavender?” Veritas asked as he came up next to you, choosing to ignore your initial jab. 

“Yeah. Lavender suits you, and it is a relaxing scent over all. Didn’t you run out of those bath salts too? We should get some new ones” you throw the bath bomb into the cart before he can reject it, but you make space for him to look over the other products, smiling up at him coyly as he gives you a daring look, yet you knew he meant no malice, he was being playful. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[xichilie]

Phainon x (fem) reader (4)

Part1 Part2 Part3 Part4

Phainon was already pacing by the edge of the newly formed pit, his usual bright energy replaced by sheer panic. He stared down into the darkness, fists clenched tightly. “We have to get her out. She could be hurt—or worse!”

“Would you stop pacing? You’re going to fall in too,” Mydei said, grabbing the back of Phainon’s coat to stop him from leaning too far. His calm, tough demeanor was still intact, though his furrowed brow betrayed his worry.

Tribbie knelt near the edge, peering into the dark abyss. Her blue eyes glimmered with determination. “It’s not that far down,” she said, pointing toward faint outlines of rocks below. “She’s probably okay… unless she landed on something sharp. Or something landed on her. Or—”

“Not helping, Tribbie!” Phainon snapped, his voice cracking slightly.

“Okay, okay!” Tribbie threw up her hands. “Just saying we need a plan!”

“Which is exactly what we’re doing,” Mydei said, already pulling a length of rope from his pack. “We go down and get her.”

“That’s obvious,” Phainon said impatiently, gesturing wildly toward the pit. “But what if there’s something else down there? What if—”

“You panicking isn’t helping either,” Mydei cut him off, his voice firm. “Keep it together, Phainon. She’ll be fine.”

Tribbie stood and brushed off her hands, shooting Phainon a reassuring smile. “She’s Y/N. If anyone’s going to handle this like a champ, it’s her. Still, Mydei’s right—we need to move fast.”

“What about Dan Heng and Trailblazer?” Mydei asked, tying a knot in the rope. “They’re not going to be thrilled if we leave them out of this.”

Tribbie nodded. “They’re not too far from where we split up earlier. I’ll go grab them. You two handle the ‘rescue operation’ while I run relay, alright?”

“Wait, why you?” Phainon asked, looking genuinely distressed.

Tribbie planted her hands on her hips, staring him down. “Because I’m the fastest and the smallest, and you two big guys can handle hauling her back up. Unless you want me down there with you, dragging Y/N out while you run to find backup.”

Phainon hesitated, then shook his head. “No. You’re right. Just… hurry, okay?”

Tribbie flashed a thumbs-up, already sprinting back toward the way they came. “I’m on it!”

Mydei turned his attention back to Phainon, handing him one end of the rope. “You ready?”

Phainon didn’t hesitate, grabbing the rope with both hands. “I’m going down first.”

“No, you’re not,” Mydei said flatly, looping the rope around a sturdy rock to secure it.

“What? Why not?” Phainon protested, his golden-retriever energy shifting into stubborn determination.

“Because you’ll get so distracted checking on Y/N, you’ll forget to watch your back,” Mydei said bluntly. “I’ll go first, make sure the path is clear. You follow once I give the signal.”

Phainon opened his mouth to argue but stopped when Mydei fixed him with a sharp glare. “Fine,” Phainon grumbled, his shoulders slumping slightly. “But hurry. Please.”

Mydei nodded and tugged on the rope, testing its strength. “She’s tough, Phainon. She’ll be fine.”

Phainon didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the pit below.

As Mydei began his careful descent into the darkness, Tribbie’s voice echoed faintly in the distance, calling out for Dan Heng and Trailblazer. Phainon gripped the rope tightly, his jaw set with determination.

“Hang on, Y/N,” he murmured under his breath. “We’re coming.”

____

The moment the ground gave way beneath her feet, Y/N felt a jolt of panic shoot through her chest. The darkness of the pit swallowed her almost immediately, leaving her disoriented as she tumbled downward.

The fall seemed endless. Wind rushed past her ears, and her fingers clawed at the empty air for anything to grab onto, but there was nothing. Only blackness.

Her mind raced as the descent continued. How deep is this thing? she thought, her heart pounding wildly. She tried to focus, bracing herself for the inevitable impact.

Then, just as suddenly as the fall had started, she hit something. But instead of jagged rocks or solid ground, she plunged into icy water.

The shock of the cold stole the air from her lungs, and she sank for a moment before instinct kicked in. Kicking her legs, she broke through the surface, gasping for breath. The sound of water lapping against unseen walls echoed around her, a stark reminder of how deep and empty this place was.

“Great,” she muttered to herself, wiping water from her eyes. Her voice echoed faintly, emphasizing just how alone she was. “A bottomless pit and a freezing underground lake. Perfect.”

Treading water, she took a moment to look around. Darkness pressed in on all sides, making it impossible to see where the lake ended or if there was any way out. She turned her head, squinting into the void, and that’s when she saw it—a faint light shimmering in the distance.

The glow was soft, almost otherworldly, and it reflected off the water like moonlight. It was coming from the far side of the cavern, beyond where she could see clearly.

“Well, that’s better than nothing,” she said, her voice a little steadier now.

She started swimming, her strokes strong and steady despite the weight of her damp clothes and gear. The water was cold enough to sap her energy if she stayed in too long, so she pushed herself to move faster.

The glow grew brighter as she neared it, and Y/N could just make out the edges of a rocky shore ahead. She allowed herself a small grin. “Still alive,” she muttered. “Not bad, Y/N. Not bad.”

As she swam closer to the light, she couldn’t help but wonder what she’d find on the other side. It wasn’t just the glow that intrigued her—it was the faint hum of energy that accompanied it, like the air itself was alive.

Her fingers finally brushed against solid rock, and she hauled herself out of the water, her boots scraping against the slippery surface. She sat there for a moment, catching her breath and wringing out her soaked gloves.

“Okay,” she said to herself, standing and looking toward the glowing passage ahead. “Let’s see where this rabbit hole goes.”

With cautious steps, she began moving toward the light, the faint hum growing louder with every step.

______

Phainon leaned as far over the edge as he dared, his eyes straining against the darkness below. “Did you hear that?” he asked, his voice tight with a mix of hope and anxiety.

“Hear what?” Mydei called up from where he was partway down the rope, his boots braced against the rock wall.

“That sound! Like… a splash.” Phainon’s ears perked up as if he were a hound catching a scent. “I think she landed in water!”

“You’re imagining things,” Mydei grumbled, adjusting his grip on the rope. “Or you’re just hoping that’s what happened.”

“No, I’m serious!” Phainon insisted, crouching down to peer into the pit again. “It was faint, but it was definitely water. She’s gotta be okay. She has to be.”

Mydei rolled his eyes and kept descending. “Even if you’re right, this rope isn’t long enough to reach the bottom. We’ll need to—”

The sentence cut off when the rope jerked suddenly, sending Mydei swinging against the wall with a loud grunt. “Damn it! It’s not secure enough for two people!”

Phainon winced, gripping the rope tighter from above. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to lean on it so much!”

“Then stop leaning!” Mydei barked. He braced himself against the wall, his sharp gaze scanning the depths below. The rope’s frayed end dangled uselessly a good ten meters above the bottomless darkness. “This isn’t going to work. We need another plan.”

Phainon frowned, glancing back toward the direction Tribbie had run. “We can’t wait for backup. What if she’s hurt? What if—”

“What if you stop panicking for five seconds?” Mydei cut him off, his voice dripping with irritation. “She’s not made of glass, Phainon. She’s probably—”

“Alive!” Phainon interrupted, his tone suddenly brighter. “See? You admit it! So we just need to get down there.”

Mydei pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re exhausting, you know that?”

“And yet, here we are,” Phainon shot back with a grin. “So, what’s the plan? We can’t just stand here!”

Mydei let out a long sigh, looking back at the dangling rope. “Fine. If you’re so eager, we jump.”

Phainon blinked, his grin faltering. “Wait, seriously?”

“Unless you’ve got a better idea,” Mydei said, his tone challenging. “We can’t climb the rest of the way, and the water you think you heard is probably our best bet.”

Phainon hesitated for half a second before nodding, his usual enthusiasm returning in full force. “Right. Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Hold on,” Mydei said, giving him a sharp look. “If you start flailing like an idiot on the way down, you’re on your own.”

“Flailing? Me? Never!” Phainon put a hand to his chest, feigning mock offense.

Mydei didn’t even dignify that with a response. Instead, he climbed back up to the ledge and secured his pack more tightly. “Stay close. If this goes wrong, at least I’ll have someone to yell at on the way down.”

Phainon chuckled nervously. “Reassuring. Very reassuring.”

Without another word, Mydei stepped to the edge, gave one last glance into the pit, and leaped.

“Wait, don’t just—oh crap!” Phainon shouted, watching him disappear into the abyss.

Not wanting to be left behind, Phainon took a deep breath, muttered a quick prayer to the Aeons, and jumped in after him.

The air rushed past him as he fell, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. He could see Mydei ahead, the faint outline of his form cutting through the darkness like a comet.

Just as Phainon began to wonder if they’d ever stop falling, the icy shock of water enveloped him. He plunged deep into the cold, the sudden chill stealing his breath.

Kicking his legs furiously, he broke the surface with a loud gasp, blinking water from his eyes. Mydei was already treading water nearby, his expression as stoic as ever.

“Told you it was water,” Phainon said breathlessly, a grin breaking through his panic.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mydei muttered, shaking droplets from his hair. “Now shut up and swim. We need to find her.”

The faint glow from deeper in the cavern caught their attention, and without another word, they started swimming toward it, their determination renewed.

The icy water sent shivers through Phainon as he swam, but his usual golden-retriever grin was back in full force. “See? I told you it was water!” he said, splashing a bit as he caught up to Mydei.

“And yet I’m the one who jumped first,” Mydei replied, his tone flat as always. His strokes were efficient, barely disturbing the water as he moved toward the glowing light in the distance.

“Because you’re bossy,” Phainon shot back with a playful smirk.

“Because someone had to keep you from breaking your neck,” Mydei corrected, not even glancing back.

As the light ahead grew brighter, the hum of energy became more noticeable, vibrating faintly in the water around them. Phainon squinted, trying to make out details as they neared the glow.

When they finally reached the edge of the water, both men pulled themselves onto a rocky outcrop. The glow wasn’t just light—it was a series of bioluminescent crystals embedded in the walls, their ethereal glow reflecting off the still water.

“Whoa,” Phainon muttered, his eyes wide as he looked around.

“Focus,” Mydei reminded him, standing and scanning the area. His sharp eyes caught something on the stone floor: a trail of wet footprints leading away from the water.

“She’s alive!” Phainon exclaimed, his grin growing wider. He immediately took off after the footprints, water dripping from his coat as he jogged ahead.

“Phainon, wait!” Mydei hissed, hurrying to catch up. “You don’t know what’s down here.”

“Yeah, but I know she’s down here!” Phainon called back, his voice echoing off the cavern walls.

The footprints led them through a winding tunnel, the bioluminescent crystals continuing to light their path. The hum of energy grew fainter as they moved deeper inside, replaced by the soft, almost melodic sound of running water.

When they emerged from the tunnel, the sight before them was nothing short of breathtaking.

The cavern opened up into a massive, lush expanse. Vibrant green grass blanketed the ground, dotted with wildflowers in every color imaginable. A gentle river cut through the center, its crystal-clear waters sparkling in the soft light filtering from somewhere unseen above. Ancient ruins rose from the earth like sleeping giants, their worn stone walls covered in moss and vines.

Phainon stopped in his tracks, his mouth falling open. “Is this… real?”

“Looks like it,” Mydei said, though even he couldn’t hide the slight awe in his voice.

“This is incredible,” Phainon murmured, stepping onto the grass and letting his fingers brush against the tall blades. It felt soft and cool, like something out of a dream.

Mydei nudged him. “Footprints.”

The trail of wet footprints continued through the grass, leading toward the ruins. Phainon immediately snapped back into focus, following the trail with renewed urgency.

As they approached the largest structure, a temple-like ruin with crumbling pillars and an arched entrance, they spotted her.

Y/N was sitting on a large, flat stone near the riverbank, her damp hair catching the light. She had removed her boots and was wringing water from her coat, her sword resting beside her. She looked surprisingly calm, as if she’d wandered into a peaceful oasis instead of falling into a bottomless pit.

The moment Phainon spotted Y/N sitting by the riverbank, safe and sound, it was like the weight of the entire universe lifted off his shoulders. His blue eyes widened, and without thinking, he bolted toward her, his wet boots slipping slightly on the mossy stones.

“Y/N!” he yelled, his voice cracking with raw relief.

Y/N turned her head, startled, her damp hair catching the soft glow of the bioluminescent crystals. She blinked in confusion at the frantic look on his face, but before she could say anything, Phainon closed the distance in a flash.

She barely had time to brace herself before he tackled her into a hug, his strong arms wrapping around her with the kind of urgency you’d expect from someone who thought he’d lost her forever. The sheer force of it nearly sent them both tumbling back into the water.

“Phainon!” she yelped, more surprised than annoyed, as he buried his face into her shoulder.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, his voice muffled against her. “You’re okay, you’re okay…” He repeated it like a mantra, as if saying it enough times would finally calm the storm inside him.

Y/N froze for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden affection. Slowly, she let out a soft chuckle and awkwardly patted his back. “Uh… yeah, I’m okay. But, uh, I might not stay that way if you crush me.”

Phainon immediately loosened his grip but didn’t let go, his forehead still pressed lightly against her shoulder. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his voice tinged with embarrassment. “I just… I thought… when you fell…” His words faltered, the usually bright and talkative Phainon struggling to find the right ones.

Y/N softened, her teasing smile fading. “Hey, I’m fine. Really,” she said gently, her tone carrying a warmth that seemed to ground him. “See? Not a scratch on me.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands still resting lightly on her arms. His blue eyes searched her face for any signs of pain or injury, but all he found was her calm, amused expression.

“You’re… sure?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

Y/N smiled, her tone laced with playful reassurance. “Positive. I even got a free swim out of it.”

That earned a small laugh from Phainon, his golden-retriever energy starting to seep back in. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

Before either of them could say anything else, a loud, exasperated voice interrupted them.

“Are you planning to let go of her anytime soon, or should I come back later?” Mydei’s sharp tone cut through the moment like a blade.

Phainon jumped, immediately letting go of Y/N and stumbling a step back. “I—I wasn’t—! I mean—!” He tripped over his words, his face turning a brilliant shade of pink.

Y/N laughed, brushing off her damp coat and giving Mydei a casual shrug. “It’s fine, Mydei. Let him have his moment.”

“His ‘moment’ nearly knocked you back into the water,” Mydei muttered, crossing his arms and raising an unimpressed eyebrow at Phainon.

Phainon scratched the back of his head, his sheepish grin doing little to mask his embarrassment. “Uh… sorry about that. I just… got a little carried away.”

“A little?” Mydei deadpanned.

“Okay, a lot,” Phainon admitted, throwing his hands up in surrender. “But can you blame me? She fell into a pit!”

“And yet she’s perfectly fine,” Mydei replied with a pointed look at Y/N. “Which is more than I can say for your dignity.”

Y/N snorted, giving Mydei a playful glare. “Alright, that’s enough out of you. Both of you, actually. We’ve got more important things to worry about than Phainon’s dramatics.”

Phainon straightened up, eager to prove himself useful. “Right! More important things! Like… this place!” He gestured to the lush surroundings, his enthusiasm bubbling back to the surface.

Y/N nodded, her expression shifting into one of awe as she took in the vibrant grass, the sparkling river, and the towering ruins. “Yeah… this place is incredible. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

“And that’s what worries me,” Mydei muttered, his gaze scanning the ruins with a wary eye.

But Phainon’s focus had already shifted back to Y/N. He watched as her eyes sparkled with curiosity, her earlier fall seemingly forgotten as she took in the wonder of their surroundings. His heart did a little flip when she turned to him and flashed him a grin.

“Come on, Phainon,” she said, nudging him lightly with her elbow. “You didn’t jump into a freezing pit just to stand there gawking, did you?”

Phainon laughed, his cheeks still faintly pink. “Nope! Lead the way, fearless leader!”

As she turned and started toward the ruins, Mydei sighed heavily and followed. Phainon lingered for a moment, his smile softening as he watched her go.

“Hopeless,” Mydei muttered under his breath as he passed Phainon.

Phainon snapped out of his daze and jogged to catch up. “What? I’m not hopeless!”

“You absolutely are,” Mydei replied, not even bothering to look at him.

[oonajaeadira]

Patricio Keeps a Journal, Pt. 1: Winter

Good. Things. Take. Time. is a series that grew out of prompts–the whisper of a character, the asks of readers. And now, to get myself back into PATS’s head, the prompts are coming from @fanfticionoverload’s Seasons of Life challenge.

What you’re about to read are some excerpts from Patricio’s journal. Heads up they probably won't make much sense if you haven't read the ongoing series.

Each excerpt is just that–snippets that pertain to the story, taken from his presumed wider journal, each notated where it lands in the series and follows the chronology of the series.

The rules of the challenge ask for 250 words per prompt. I thought it would be a little less forced if I didn’t worry so much about that, so some may fall short of that number. And I’ll say that these aren’t heavily edited nor are they anything other than basic reactions, precisely because I wanted them to feel like the unfiltered thoughts one writes in a journal.

Let’s say that it was Shell’s orders for him to keep a journal in the first place. If his practice is his way of dealing with his demons, if he’s not going to go to traditional therapy, then “the least you can do is just offload before bed, and not the kind of offloading you do with your dick. I’m not gonna read it, but I’ll want to see words on those pages. Write a fucking play for all I care, write a manifesto about your love of pasta, I don’t give a shit what. Just write.”

I don’t have anything to write. I’m not a fucking poet. Shell says use the pen, get the words out of your head, just write anything. Anything. Anything. Tables have turned. Now I’m the one practicing letting it all out. Trying not to think too hard.  Anything.

EXCERPT 1: SNOW

TIMELINE: a few days before Good. Things. Take. Time.

…

#39 gifted me four tickets to the game at her last session. It’s Neils’ birthday. I’ll surprise him and Dan with a guy’s night out.

Got a new client coming in on Thursday. #48. I wasn’t going to approve her. Nothing in her application hints at any lingering trauma that she can’t just get treated at a legit clinic. But Shell was pushy about this one. She's got a knack for these things and hasn’t been wrong yet. Official referral diagnosis: pain is psychological tension from a recent(?) divorce. I guess it’s worth a shot. If nothing else, divorcees are usually just in need of a good fuck so it’s an easy fix. Good photo. I like her style. She’s going to make pretty faces.

Thinking about taking some time off after that. Rare confluence of three clients ending their run at the same time, it’s slow season at the office and the guys can handle a week without me, I should get out of town. Someplace quiet. Or fuck, I don’t know, someplace distracting where I can get out of my head. Maybe I should book a massage. Look at me, I’m hilarious. Who massages the masseuse? I’ll have Shell find me something. Keep it interesting. Place yer bets: seedy and cheap or golden toilets and happy endings? As long as it’s somewhere warm.

Renee posted the pictures from her honeymoon. Skiing in the Alps. She always used to hate the snow. Guess people change. Change can be a good thing. 

She’s better off. 

___

EXCERPT 2: SCARF

TIMELINE: The night of Good. Things. Take. Time.

…

Shell hit the jackpot on this one. Perfect plaything. She’s like I custom ordered a client. Recurring cluster knots all down her starboard teres major, needs a hand getting in under the port shoulder blade…can’t do it alone. Needs my hands. She needs me. Follows directions, trusts completely. Has a good imagination. That will open up more in time. I expect a challenge out of this one. Surprised the shit out of me with the beautiful thing though. Maybe shouldn’t have let her have that. Maybe shouldn’t have gone down on her. It’s fine. She’s clean. Tastes good smells good ass for days. I can get a good handful. Everywhere.

And perfect inside. Tight but not too tight, good control with the right assistance, takes direction like a dream. I’ll be able to get her to sing if she keeps listening. Mierda, her skin. My hands want to eat it. Oil it up and map it out and scarf it down. Her muscle structure is    -just-    amazing. I haven’t been this amped in months. This one hits the spot.

Giving her Thursday across the board might have come off too eager. Well, if that didn’t, offering up extra days on call probably did. Jackass.

Not gonna worry about that tonight. Bowling with the guys tomorrow night. Hope they’re ready to eat their damn balls. I’m fucking invincible.

She called me beautiful. She’s [sentence scratched out] 

Forgot to note in her file–she said she hasn’t had anyone make her come in over a year even though info says she’s only been divorced a few months. What kind of an asshole just walks away from that her? How could anyone share a bed or a house or anything with that and resist for a year? She deserves to get fucked every day. Why wouldn’t you want someone that just falls into you so willingly and fucks so pretty? Great. Now I’m angry. Not my concern. Just my gain.

___

EXCERPT 3: COZY 

TIMELINE: weekend evening, after installment #2, relieving period cramps

…

Keep thinking about Thursday. It’s not about the blood. It is and it isn’t. It’s obviously that she needed relief. It’s good to see her trusting. That can be tricky for some women. Beaten into them that they have to hide what their body does. It’s a body. It’s a unique mechanism. It has shit and blood and needs a good release now and then. Or every day for some people...another truth for some of us that the world wants hidden away.

The blood’s messy. It’s primal. It’s brutal and nobody blinks an eye if it comes from a punch to the face or a slice of the thumb. But the minute it comes from the minute it shows you what  a woman’s body is capable of… But it’s also the harshness of the color, a signal that if there’s pain then it’s real. It’s a helpful focus.

She just LETS me. There's beauty in that pliability. She trusts, she follows, she heals. The way her face just relaxes when the knots are gone. It’s almost as good as the orgasm itself. Beautiful.

Got her all warmed up in the bath, all cozy in bed. Fell asleep like a worn-out kitten and I had an urge to kiss her forehead. Poor thing just needed it today. Successful session.

___

EXCERPT 4: FIREPLACE 

TIMELINE: a couple of weeks later, evening, after installment #3, the treatment for migraine and anxiety AND includes this six sentence ficlet

…

Well shit. There’s a coincidence. She wouldn’t believe me if I told her.

Thursday came in tonight tight as a screw, migraine a good 7 or 8. I had to take it slow. Asked her to focus on some bright spots in her life, like her favorite things. I might have guessed the animals and reading, but the fanfiction was a surprise. Cute. It was best not to talk about what was causing the stress because

Her family coming to stay.

Fuck if I don’t sympathize. 

Mama got here two days ago and all she can do is complain about her hotel and American food and how everyone speaks too fast for her to keep up. It’s cold here. The hotel should have a fireplace. Why don’t you take time off Patricio? You have an extra bedroom, why can’t your mama sleep there?

I love her. But I get it. There are just some boundaries that are hard. I get you, Thursday.

Preciosa.

Fucked her five ways til Sunday. She fucked ME five ways till Sunday.. She drew blood. Didn’t even care. Mark me up, girl. Glad I could help, but damn that might have been more mutually beneficial than I’d originally planned.

___

EXCERPT 5: HOT CHOCOLATE 

TIMELINE: night of installment #4, with the undergarment ripping and the thigh-highs

…

I didn’t expect to get to play this much. I’m usually so focused on the pain and making sure the client can come in their condition that there’s not a lot of room for fun and surprises. I got to take Shell out last weekend and might have bought her too many beers and pull-tabs. It took her about three bottles to get profound. She wants to know who "therapies the therapist" and told me I should remember that it’s okay to put my own priorities first sometime. She said that people in the industry of care need to be taken care of too. She said it’s okay to have a client that gives as good as she gets. Then she went home and threw up and texted me the next day that she’s drinking nothing but hot chocolate from now on. Haha

Shit. Thursday feels good when she walks out of here. She looks like a million bucks. I did that. I DO that. THAT’s what I need. So yeah. Why shouldn’t I enjoy that? Cute tonight. She wanted me to rip her panties. All she had to do was ask, but I think she was embarrassed to?

So the new diagnosis is lack of confidence and the treatment is for her to speak up for what she wants. We’re going to get her to a place where she can ask–or demand what she needs. We’ll work on her trusting that I’ll give her anything she wants–anything. 

She’ll be able to walk out of here and conquer the world when I’m done with her.

___

EXCERPT 6: FREEZING 

TIMELINE: a couple of weeks after the previous entry

...

[….] and Niels can go to hell though because I don’t care how low key it is or how good the whiskey is, I’m not giving up my Thursdays to fill in the hole in his poker night. His basement is freezing and I have warmer places to be.

Although speaking of, Thursday canceled again. It’s been a couple of weeks. Crunch time at work for her I guess. Her portal messages seem pretty stressed. She’s apologetic about missing sessions. I can tell her she doesn’t need to apologize, I’m getting paid whether she shows or not. And honestly, it just means we’re going to have to work that much harder to get her malleable again and I can hardly complain about that. A build up��s a hell of a thing. As long as she doesn’t mess up her rhombs again. We were just making headway on that. I should ask her about her desk chair.

But I’d be lying if I said that I gave a shit about the pay. I’m allowed to enjoy my clients and be disappointed when I don’t get to see them.

At least Jean’s back on Friday. It will be nice to see her again. Now that her latest surgery’s all healed up, we can find her some good positions for her to take home. I know her partner’s skittish about the discovery phase. But she’s almost done and when the reconstruction’s over, he’ll thank me for it. He SHOULD thank me for it, she’s got a good laugh and good tits.

Jean’s a perfect example of learning to speak up for herself. I can do the same for Preciosa. Lucky for her she doesn’t have Jean’s level of pain to work through. But she’s gotta show. up. for. it. Come on, girl. I got you.

___

EXCERPT 7: MARSHMALLOW

TIMELINE: directly after installment #5, all pent up and feral

…

Now THAT. Was a successful fuck. We’re making headway here. Little slapping, little biting, she got a good few hair yanks in there. She’s learning that not only am I not a marshmallow…neither is she. Good girl. Pretty high praise response, but she’s also got a little fight in her. She’s a switch and doesn’t even know it. She will. 

There were some real emotions tonight, real anger, real tears. But when she let go I nearly wept myself. It was beautiful. She’s working too hard and she knows it. But she also knows I’ve got her when she does. Hopefully that will preempt some of the stress next time. Not even upset about that shoulder blade. We’ll just start from the beginning on that.

[....]

Just reminded me of Renee nagging about working too hard. I just remembered that I had a dream about her a few nights ago. Not really about her. She was in the background somewhere and not even angry that I didn’t stop to say hello. Then she picked up her purse and left. The light kind of shifted like, I don’t know. Felt like it was the last time I’d see her. Not in a bad way. 

It’s good. Like a door really closing.

Maybe I do work too hard. But I like it. It’s who I am. It’s my choice.

____

PATS in winter by @d4rm4nd4

SERIES MASTERLIST

[lizdive]

I don't know if you've watched demon slayer but could you do kanao!reader x aventurine and boothill, platonic separately?

Or a chlorinde!readerx aventurine and boothill, romantic( also separate) tho? I've had these ideas for a while but I don't know which one I like more so I'll leave it to you.

Hihi anon !! Don’t worry, I’ve watched demon slayer and finished the manga too :3 I really want to write both, but I need to do some research Clorinde’s personality first,, was never too invested in her character </3 once I do somehow figure her out, I’ll definitely try and write her !! For now, I hope this satisfies you and if not just tell me and i’ll redo it <33 tysm for requesting !!

notes 𐙚 gender-neautral reader — "you" used to refer to reader ,, reader is a teenager — being 16 was the reference ,, reader is based off of "kanao kocho" from the demon slayer series ,, platonic relationships ,, veritas ratio mentioned in aventurine’s part ,, dan heng and trailblazer mentioned in boothill’s part ,, this isn’t proofread ,, ignore typos

⭑ You were a new recruit, young in your teens and barely even reaching adulthood, and given to AVENTURINE as an apprentice and assistant. At first, he worried that it was his situation all over again, however whenever he tried to ask you anything, you just blankly stared at him.

⭑ You filled out duties diligently and followed everything he said by the letter. You never complained, you never expressed exhaustion, you were a doll. Following orders like his words were that of an Aeon’s and you were the devout follower.

⭑ It took some digging, but AVENTURINE had finally found what he wished to know. A young teen, sold into slavery by their own parents since childhood. He could only feel pity — you were, in some way, the same as him.

⭑ It only makes him want to talk with you more and get you to open up more. He notices quickly how you struggled to make decisions for yourself, so he decides to give you one of his golden coins to use. The heads or tails method, the same one Kanao used thanks to Kanae.

⭑ Sometimes he’ll try and corner you to make you give an answer out of your own will, but it’s rare as he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable or feel distressed.

⭑ You practice swordsmanship? AVENTURINE will let you train for as long as you want! He’ll get you the finest blades! You use a specific sword type? You now have a collection. You have a hobby / talent, and he wants you to excel !! He’s very supportive, a bit too much so, but he’s just happy that you have something you genuinely enjoy.

⭑ Sometimes you act like his protector which makes him a bit embarrassed because he has someone younger than him beating ass to keep him unharmed and he’s just standing there dumbfounded but at the same time proud,,

⭑ If you ever wish to open up to him about your past and the hardships you’ve faced, he’ll always be there to listen. He’s patient with you and will try and help you articulate your feelings. If you’re upset with your parents, he’ll encourage you to cry and let it all out — it’s not healthy to keep it in, after all.

⭑ If you ever express a desire to further your education (the IPC only taught you what was needed to be useful), he’ll leave that to Dr. Ratio. He trusts the scholar enough and explains the situation to him. Congrats! You have become an official student of Veritas Ratio!

⭑ Veritas is very pleased at the fact you’re very diligent and a quick learner. You quickly become one of his top students.

⭑ If you ask to learn about gambling and how to gamble, AVENTURINE will be a bit hesitant but he’ll teach you in the end. Again, with your diligence and quick learning, you’ll become a pro in no time. Maybe you can gamble with him sometime! Don’t worry, no serious bets!

⭑ It was during a bounty that BOOTHILL had found you, all alone in a shed, attire tattered and hair a mess. You looked to be on the brink of life and death. That only made him finish the bounty even quicker.

⭑ He didn’t ask too many questions when he noticed that you were silent, instead helping you up and escaping quickly so that there would be no casualties. You made no noise of pain or protest, and while that concerned him greatly seeing all your wounds, he was too focused on getting away.

⭑ He books a hotel that night. He’ll get someone to help you bathe since you seem incapable of doing so yourself, and while that’s happening he’ll get you a nice change of clothes. He finally has use for the bounty money he has.

⭑ It’s very awkward at first for BOOTHILL because no matter what he tries you just don’t react. Your wide eyes are dazed as they just stare at him — he feels like you’re going to carve a hole through him with that gaze of yours,,

⭑ He has no idea what to do with you,, you don’t respond to anything unless he orders you around, you lack basic survival skills as seen when you tried to make something in the hotel’s microwave only to fry the microwave, and you just,,,, couldn’t do much.

⭑ What you could do, though, was fight. And, you were a quick learner. BOOTHILL, not wanting to risk the chances of you getting hurt as he decides to bring you along for his missions, teaches you how to defend yourself. You’ll end up being very good with firearms. Would get you a revolver like his.

⭑ He would also duel with you to help you improve! A moving target is always good practice, and he’ll be fine anyways. When you get more and more skilled, he’ll do actual duels with you but will still he cautious so as to not hurt you. Your speed is very admirable!

⭑ Will try to make your own choices, which with his line of work, won’t be too hard as every step requires quick thinking and decision making. In a way, literally being with him shoved you out of your comfort zone and forced you to make your own decisions.

⭑ If you open up to him, trust that he will be comforting you like he’s your own father. Speaking of fathers and parents, he has zero respect for your parents and hopes they’re rotting away. As a man who was once a father, he could never imagine doing that.

⭑ Congrats, BOOTHILL is your unofficial official father now !!

⭑ If you ever want to pursue a better education, he might not be the best guy to ask,, but he’ll figure something out! Might ask the trailblazer for help, who then asks Dan Heng for help. Dan Heng will teach you the basics in reading and then he’ll leave the rest up to you. If you have any questions, he’ll answer, but it’ll take him some time as he’s a busy man.

⭑ Loves it when you go sadistic mode and verbally destroy the enemy, ESPECIALLY if the enemy works under the IPC. Will cheer you on. Also you’ll swear for him. It soon becomes reflex and it’s just very humoring to see a cyborg man absolutely wrecking someone and then there’s this innocent looking teen with a calm smile saying the most vile words in the cyborg’s place,,

[itsatorchwoodthing]

20 of my favorite quotes from The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances shooting scripts for the 20th anniversary!

these are just quotes i found interesting or nostalgic or i just like - it's mostly about Jack Harkness, ngl

“Jack turns. We see him for the first time - an iconic fist-look-at-a-hero shot, the reddening sky of Blitz London behind him, the searchlights, the laming buildings. He’s impossibly handsome, dashing - the jawline of Dan Dare, the smile of a bastard. 

“Jack is sitting at the instrument of what appears to be some kind of space vehicle - it isn’t too dissimilar to the cockpit of a fighter plane; a mix of fighter pilot imagery and Star Wars… and a camper van. Does he live here?”

“Jack riches over, clicks a switch. Rose’s first impression was dead right. He’s shockingly handsome.”

“A little silence. Rose shifts, a little self-consciously - making all those awkward little flicks and tweaks of someone who’s aware they might not be looking their best but suddenly would like to. She’s a little thrown but she gives her best shot a defiance”

Rose: “So, who are you supposed to be then?” Jack: “Currently? Captain Jack harkness, 133 Squadron, Royal Air Force, American volunteer”

“A little reluctantly - but he is terribly handsome - Rose gives him her hands. Gently, Jack takes hold of them, starts to examine the cuts and bruises with what looks like a pencil torch.[...] He smiles at her, still holding her hands. And she’s terribly aware of this very handsome man, very close.”

“He clicks another control. An ice bucket with a bottle of champagne in it pops out of the wall, James Bond style (along with two glasses)”

Rose: “Do you have the time? “Without taking his eyes off her, Jack raises his zapper again, point it at the giant clock-face. The clock-face illuminates, bathing them both in its light. This is now impossibly romantic. And half past nine.

“Jack, whirls, rolls, comes up on one knee, weapon levelled at the glass screen - it’s classic James Bond - except - the weapon in his hand is a banana.

“Jack laughs. He’s deciding he likes this guy”

The Doctor: “Nine hundred years old, me. Been around. I think you can assume at some point I’ve… Danced.” Rose: “You??” The Doctor: “Problem?” Rose: (staring at him, intrigued, fascinated - is he a bloke after all?)

Rose: “Well. His name’s Jack, he’s a captain” The Doctor: “He’s not really a captain, Rose!” Rose: “You know what= I think you’re experiencing captain envy.”

Jack: “Didn’t look like talking” Rose: “Didn’t sound like dancing”

“And off he goes, straightening his tie, smoothing back his hair. Rose stares after him, a little flummoxed by this turn of events. Something in her face is screaming “No, no, not on that team!”

“Algy, old sport, it’s me”

Rose: “Doctor, that bomb…” The Doctor: “Taken care of it” Rose “How? The Doctor: “Psychology”

“And he throws his arms. And the nanogenes stream from him, a golden storm of them - straight to the Gasmask Creatures. The creatures stagger, some of them fall - the Doctor, at the centre of the storm, arm flung wide, loving this, roaring with laughter, absolutely joyous-”

“He stands ready to face his doom like a man. Or at any rate, like a man with a drink. We start pulling back from him, as he looks out over the stars one final time. It's a pull-out that feels like the end of the show, like this is the last we’ll see of him.

Jack: (looking numbly round the room) “Bigger on the inside…” The Doctor: “You’d better be”

The Doctor hits a switch on the console. The music changes - up tempo: Gleen Miller’s “In The Mood”. The Doctor: “I can dance!” He grabs Rose, spins her perfectly and they’re off round the console. And if you thought Jack could dance, this guy0s got nine hundred years on him. Rose: “Actually, Doctor, I thought that Jack might like the dance” The Doctor: “I’m sure he would, Rose, I’m absolutely certain… (He spins her, twirls her… Jack stands there, starting to smile, taking in this strange new world he’s suddenly part of.) … But who with?”

HAPPY 20 SLUTTY SLUTTY YEARS ON OUR SCREENS CAPTAIN JACK HARKNESS

credits to the book Doctor Who, The Shooting Scripts for season one. and a special thanks to @by-gray for telling me about the book in the first place

[fangirlfuel]

Where the Road Leads

---

The house was quiet in a way that didn’t feel peaceful. It was the kind of quiet that settled in your chest like a weight — the absence of something that once filled the air like laughter, like adrenaline, like meaning.

Daniel hadn’t spoken much that morning. He sat on the balcony, coffee growing cold in his hands, eyes distant and tired. The sun hit his curls just right, golden halos tracing through the brown, but even that didn’t make him smile. Not really.

Since leaving Formula 1, it had been like watching a fire dim slowly. He didn’t regret it — at least, not completely — but you could see it in his face: something was missing. The rush. The roar. The chase.

And it was killing you to see him like this.

So you did something impulsive.

You glanced down at the small ball of golden fur sleeping in your lap. The tiny labrador puppy let out a soft sigh, twitching in its sleep. You smiled, gently running your fingers over its velvety ear.

“Time to meet your new dad,” you whispered.

—

You found Daniel still on the balcony, knees drawn up, chin resting on one hand.

“I brought you something,” you said, voice soft.

He turned his head slightly, giving you a look over his shoulder — curious, but flat. “Yeah?”

You stepped forward, slowly revealing the tiny puppy tucked into your arms.

Daniel blinked. “What...?”

“He’s yours,” you said. “Well—ours. But mostly yours.”

For a moment, he just stared. No movement. No sound.

Then — slowly — his features began to shift. His lips twitched up. His eyes softened. “You got me a... puppy?”

“I thought you needed someone to look after. Someone who needs you every day.”

The pup blinked sleepily at Daniel, then yawned, pink tongue sticking out. It was almost comical how fast his expression crumbled. He reached for the puppy like it was made of glass, voice catching a little. “He’s so small…”

“He’s eight weeks,” you smiled, watching the way Daniel cradled the dog to his chest. “I picked him up this morning. I didn’t name him yet — I thought you should.”

He held the pup close, stroking his tiny head. “What if I call him... Turbo?”

You grinned. “Very on-brand.”

A pause. Then a small laugh — Daniel’s real laugh — escaped him. “Turbo Ricciardo. The fastest cuddle machine in Monaco.”

The puppy sneezed.

Daniel’s eyes sparkled for the first time in weeks.

—

Later that night, you sat curled up on the couch, Turbo asleep between you. The TV played softly in the background — a random Netflix documentary neither of you were really watching.

Daniel had his hand on your thigh, thumb tracing lazy circles over your skin. His voice was quieter than usual when he said, “You know, when I walked away from F1… I wasn’t sure what the hell I was walking towards.”

You looked at him. “And now?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But this—” He nodded toward Turbo. “This feels like... something real. A start.”

You turned toward him, hand resting gently over his chest. “We can build whatever future you want, Dan. It doesn’t have to be fast-paced. It just has to be ours.”

He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. “You think we’ll be good at this? Not just the dog part — the future part. Like… family. Kids. Chaos.”

You smiled softly. “I think we’ll be incredible at it.”

“Yeah?” His voice dropped. “You ever think about it? Us. A little one with curly hair, maybe your eyes…”

You laughed gently. “Every time I see you holding Turbo like a baby.”

He kissed your temple. “I want that. Not tomorrow. But someday. I want all of it with you.”

Your voice barely a whisper: “Me too.”

And between the warmth of his hand in yours, the soft breathing of a sleepy puppy, and the weight of the stars above Monaco… you both knew:

Even though the race had ended, the journey was just beginning.

[green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle]

ENJOY THE SILENCE

Lazy mornings with honkai and genshin boys (fem!reader x Diluc, fem!reader x Dan Heng) a bit suggestive in Dan Heng's part GENERAL MASTERLIST

DILUC

Your lover, Diluc Ragnvindr was without a doubt hardworking and responsible man. Running biggest winery in the industry, protecting Mondstadt at nights and still working full-time job as a bartender, he gave you plenty reasons to be proud of him. Unfortunately, his lifestyle came with many downsides, sleep deprivation and shortage of free time he could spend with you being one of them, so when you found your handsome boyfriend lying next to you in bed, you couldn't stop yourself from admiring him, for once so peaceful, so relaxed. You felt like it was ages since he could sleep in like that.

His voluminous hair tickled your nose, he smelled both manly and sweetly at the same time, scent of cecilias he cultivated in his garden mixed with leather and smoke, reminder of dangerous activities he indulged in at night. You shifted closer to him, inhaling this familiar smell. His eyes opened, morning light enhanced golden tones in his hues. When he met your gaze it felt like all the warmth in them poured into your soul, lightening it up like sunlight itself, taking your breath away.

Diluc smiled at you lazily, leaning to kiss you. He tasted like promise of adventure, but his strong arms were like a safe harbor, grounding you and sheltering from all harm.

"I hope I didn't wake you up" you giggled. "You deserve a good rest for once Diluc."

"Don't worry, even if you did, I'd rather enjoy your company then sleep my love. Compared to reality with you every dream is dull." he whispered gently stroking your hair.

You laid your head down on his muscular chest, happy to cuddle your big, strong, loving man for the rest of the morning.

DAN HENG

Your beloved dragon came off as cold and emotionally detached to most people, his reserved nature forged in solitude he lived in for most of this lifetime successfully scared most people off. Yet, there was other side to him, born from isolation he suffered in Xianzhounian prison as well. Hunger for life and experiences he was devoid off for so long, overwhelming need to be free and feed his senses with all things this wast universe can offer, things he knew only from books.

Dan Heng was used to relying on himself, never given a chance to ask for too much or express his emotions freely, so when he was alone with you he tried his best to not seem needy, but it was obvious just how much he craved to be close to you.

He always kissed you a bit too greedily, as if it was the last time he can taste something so sweet, and he never pulled away first. When he caressed your body his fingers dug into your flesh, leaving marks on your fragile skin. Claiming you as his mate. He was touch-starved to the point of pain, skin to skin contact was so foreign to him it almost burned but he couldn't get enough. It was never enough.

Today you and your boyfriend woke up earlier than the rest of the crew. Before going back to your duties in the archieves you decided to take a quick shower together. Dan Heng looked stunning with water dripping down his perfect body, you couldn't take your eyes off his broad chest. He was more comfortable than usually, tracing marks on your skin with his fingertips.

Water washed away your mixed scent from your bodies when your hands massaged shampoo in his scalp. Dan Heng always made sure he does his share of work, both as Astral Express archivist and as your lover. It was a habit of his from time he first escaped from Xianzhou. He used to work for refuge and food in various places, justifying his existence with usefulness. Therefore you were not surprised when he returned the favor soon after you washed his hair.

" Why won't you let me spoil you sometimes?" you asked.

"You spoil me all the time." he calmly spoke up. "You give me all your love and help me become something more than a shadow of my past life by giving me another great reason to live here and now instead of dwelling on my nightmares. I merely return the favor."

Your cheeks flushed.

"I just don't want you to feel like you have to earn my kindness each time." you explained, biting your lip. His hands rubbing your head slowed down a bit.

"Don't worry about that. I like doing things for you, that's my way of showing that I care about you." he sighed. "You keep on telling me I need to learn how to receive affection, but aren't you the same as me?"

You didn't say anything back, instead you just let go and let his hands get lower to massage the knots out of your back, your muscles relaxing under his tender touch.

[fandomtrash-whataboutit]

Gonna draft this as I go through The Golden Raven today as I don’t want to make twenty million posts

Major the Golden Raven Spoilers ahead (obviously)

He’s dead!! Thank the lord, he’s dead

Jean is a Trojannnnnn i love seeing the babes take care of him

I want to know what ‘incident’ made Jeremy’s siblings resent him so much. Obviously they’re all just unrepentant narcissists, but like holy fuck

Every time Jean’s thoughts stray even slightly toward Neil, you know something hilarious is about to happen

Someone finally said it ,there is no more perfect court!!

‘You’re Jean Moreau. Perfect freaking court. What do you mean it’s not fun?’

You can’t just drop this shit in Nora i dont need reminders that Jean thinks Jeremy is super hot (i love every second of it)

Im sorry the confirmation that moriyama BEAT a freshman to DEATH holy fuckkkk

But also please give Jean a baby. He needs a baby. If you wont give me vice-captain Neil then give me this

Derek and Derrick my beloveds

“Sometimes they brought us fruit” i need to hunt down every adult involved in the Ravens for sport

Oh i didn’t even THINK of Jean saying Jeremy’s voice all French-like (‘I bet he hit his knees the first time you said it’ oh my goddddd Cody)

Jean Moreau bisexual icon??? WE WIN THESE

Oh god please tell me Jeremy wasn’t a witness to his brother’s death or something i couldn’t bear that being the reason

“Jean looked baffled as Xavier tried to explain top surgery to him”

AARON MINYARD IS CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES

ANDREWWWWWWWWWW

Kevin knows exactly what Neil did and he’s SO tired (also ‘the freshman have united against him’ is AMAZING)

Jean & Cat hug just put me in the grounddddddd

Nooooo tell me Jeremy’s brother didn’t KILL himself and now his family BLAMES him for not fucking stoping him AHHHHHJ

Oh god oh shit i just Jeremy’s backstory AUGHHH

And jean’s reaction after whatever the guy’s name was and Jeremy im screaming crying throwing up and not in a good way

Don’t tell me its always been Jeremy! Do NOT tell me that Jean’s been enamored with him from the start and it’s just one more thing Riki punished him for!! I wouldn’t be able to take it if you told me that!! NO WAIT ITS KEVIN DONT GIVE ME KEVJEAN AnGST PLEASEEEEE

But Jean realizing with startling clarity why the Trojans play the way they do might heal me. Just pls let it be enough to heal him

JEAN IS PLAYING LIKE A TROJAN

(|_> HAVE A WINNING DAY BITCH)

RHEMANN FOR THE WINNNNNN HE FUCKING DECKED ZANE BEFORE HE COULD EVEN SAY IT HOLY SHIT THIS IS AMAZING

HE FINALY BROKE DOWN!! I’m heartbroken for sure but this is always what’s needed, he needed to break. I underestimated Rhemann’s importance here it’s nice to see a consistent adult presence in Jean’s life be positive for the first time ever

Oh Jean needs to be a farmer

“Better to be reckless fools than Ravens” YEEEEESSSSSSS

“I Deserve to get better” YES YES YES YES YESSSSSSSSSSS HOLY SIHT LETS GOOOOOOO

confidence and security look so good on Neil by the way. Im so damn happy for him.

Okay Nora knows her audience she out here giving us MULTIPLE ‘the master’ reveals (it means jean is closer with his teammmm)

Ohhhhhh Foxes and Ravens brawl I LOVE to see andreil backing each other up. And ofc Dan Wilds, the woman herself, attempting murder. As she should.

Jean thinks of himself as a broken monster but to Jeremy he is nothing but a kind heart. That’s it. Someone end me.

Jean now being offended at how empty the lofts feel…

JAB MOREAU

THE RULES HAVEE CHANGED

I’m coming down from an insane high because I;m lucky that my strongest hyper fixation in years hit me a week before a new book came out and now i can’t process that it’s over and it’ll prolly be 1-2 years before the next book but regardless… @korakos thank you for everything, these books and Neil and Jean and all the foxes and Trojans mean so much to me

(I’ll be posting way more tomorrow but im liegit tweaking out right now so no coherent thoughts for you)

[aventurineswife]

Could I request Jing Yuan, Dan Heng, Aventurine and Ratio with a very generous and doting partner who makes them an abundance of gifts?

New weapons, a couple plushies, and many more

Gifts of the Heart

Tags: Jing Yuan x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Fluff, Gifts, Tender Moments, Soft Romance, Lighthearted, Emotional Vulnerability, Comfort, Slice of Life, Found Family.

A/N: why was I listening to cure while writing this? 💀

Jing Yuan's office was a sanctuary of calm amidst the chaos of the Xianzhou Luofu. However, today it was anything but calm. Piled high on his usually immaculate desk were an assortment of meticulously crafted gifts: a new weapon stand made of polished silver, embroidered cushions for his chair, and a plush lion that looked suspiciously like Mimi.

You walked in with another package, your cheeks flushed with effort and excitement. "I thought you might like these," you said, setting down the final bundle—a lightweight, beautifully designed cape lined with reinforced threads, perfect for both combat and ceremony.

Jing Yuan leaned back in his chair, his eyes glimmering with amusement. “Dozing General or not, I fear I might soon become the spoiled General if this continues.”

You smiled, brushing off his teasing. “It’s not spoiling if you deserve it.”

He reached for the plush lion and held it up, a rare chuckle escaping his lips. “Even Mimi has a twin now. Truly, you leave no detail overlooked.” His tone softened, and he leaned closer, his expression uncharacteristically tender. “You’ve made my world a much brighter place. Thank you, truly.”

Dan Heng was used to silence. It was his comfort zone, a shield against the chaos of the universe. But lately, the quiet in the archives had been punctuated by the rustling of gift-wrapped packages.

At first, he had been perplexed. Who needed a custom-crafted spear attachment inlaid with celestial patterns? Or a weighted blanket embroidered with stars and constellations that mirrored his room’s nightlight setting? And the plushies—one resembled Cloud-Piercer, another was an adorable caricature of his own stoic self.

You stood behind him, watching as he carefully examined a new spear stand. “Do you like it?” you asked hesitantly.

Dan Heng turned, his expression unreadable but his eyes softer than usual. “You don’t have to go to such lengths for me.”

“I want to,” you said simply. “You deserve to feel cared for.”

He hesitated, then reached for the plush Cloud-Piercer and placed it on his desk. “Thank you. I… appreciate everything.” His voice was quiet, but the sincerity in it spoke volumes. For the first time in a long while, Dan Heng felt that his solitude wasn’t a burden he had to bear alone.

Aventurine’s office was a chaotic display of opulence and extravagance, but now it had taken on a more personal touch. Golden dice-shaped ornaments dangled from the corners, a new set of playing cards lay on his desk, and a plush peacock sat proudly atop his chair.

“Another gift?” he asked, his signature smile playing on his lips as you entered with a set of intricately designed cufflinks shaped like roulette wheels.

“Only the best for you,” you replied, setting the box down. “I noticed your old ones were scratched.”

Aventurine picked up one of the cufflinks, holding it up to the light. “These are exquisite. You truly outdo yourself every time.”

You shrugged, grinning. “I just want to see you happy.”

His expression flickered, the mask slipping for a brief moment as he regarded you with something raw and unspoken. “You know, most people give me things expecting something in return. But you… you just give.”

“That’s because I care about you,” you said gently. “No strings attached.”

Aventurine chuckled, sliding the cufflinks into place. “You’re a dangerous one, you know that? Making me feel things I thought I’d buried long ago.”

Ratio’s lab was a temple of precision and order. Each piece of equipment had its place, every book meticulously cataloged. And yet, amidst the sterility of science, there was now a peculiar warmth: a plush owl perched on his desk, custom bookmarks tucked into his volumes, and a set of tools engraved with his initials.

“Another package?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as you entered with a sleek case.

You opened it to reveal a new set of instruments, polished to perfection and designed with ergonomic grips. “I thought these might help with your work.”

He inspected them with a critical eye, his expression unreadable. Finally, he set them down and turned to you. “You have an uncanny ability to surprise me.”

“I just want to make your life a little easier,” you said, smiling. “You work so hard; you deserve it.”

Ratio’s gaze softened, the sharp edges of his intellect giving way to something more human. “It’s rare for someone to see beyond the intellect and treat me as a person. You’ve done more than that—you’ve made me feel valued in ways I didn’t think possible.”

He reached for the plush owl, holding it up as a small smile tugged at his lips. “Even this has its charm. Thank you, truly.”