#I can’t express how lovely this was thank you

[yueebby]

will they wont they – dick grayson

synopsis. he had one job. but when it comes to you, dick grayson has never been good at following the rules.

contents. fluff, (implied) exes to lovers, catwoman!reader, batcat dynamic, theyre in love your honor

notes. i wanted a bruce and selina parallel except these two finally give in. this concept has been plaguing my for far too long. everyone thank blair for the idea

“And under no condition should you flirt with her,” Barbara’s voice crackles through his comms, sharp with warning. “This is a quick intel mission. You’re in and out, Nightwing.”

Dick chuckles. “Got it. Best behavior.”

Word had gotten back to the Batcave that, after Catwoman’s arrest, Catgirl was making moves to finish what her predecessor started. Even worse, there were rumors of Catwoman’s involvement in the riots of Blackgate Penitentiary. Usually, Gotham’s affairs stayed strictly in Bruce’s hands, but Dick had fought hard for this case. Maybe too hard.

“Nightwing,” Oracle’s voice falters as the group watches the hidden camera feed from his suit. “Did you… style your hair?”

Dick freezes mid-motion, his fingers still carding through his dark locks in the reflection of a nearby window.

“Dunno what you’re talking about.” He clears his throat, schooling his expression. Jason’s laughter bursts through the comms like a gunshot.

“Oh, this is priceless,” Jason wheezes. “Loverboy's got it bad.”

Dick exhales through his nose, shaking his head as he continues forward. “Can’t believe you guys planted a camera on me. Have you no trust?”

“It’s not about trust, Dick,” Bruce finally speaks, his voice cool and measured. “It’s about intelligence gathering.”

Of course. Ever the pragmatist.

Dick rolls his shoulders, trying to shake the unease creeping in. “Nah. My girl would never do anything to hurt me.” His voice dips. “Nothing I wouldn’t enjoy, anyway.”

Jason groans. “Barf.”

Oracle sighs. “Loverboy, focus.”

Dick lifts his hands in mock surrender, but his smirk lingers, betraying him. “Alright, alright.”

By the time Dick reaches the coordinates he was sent, the abandoned building seemed to be empty. Devoid of any criminal activity that was suspected.

Or at least, that’s how it looks.

Nightwing lands silently on the rooftop, scanning the darkened windows. No movement. No heat signatures. Just the city humming below, a steady pulse against the quiet.

Any amateur would enter the building to start his investigation, but Dick knew you better than that.

A slow smirk tugs at his lips.

You’re here. Somewhere. Watching.

His lips twitch. “Y’know, most people say hello first.”

Silence. 

A shift in the shadows, a whisper of movement, too fast for anyone else to catch.

He’s airborne for half a second before his back slams against the rooftop. His breath escapes in a sharp huff, and before he can fully register what was happening, a warmth presses close, your weight against him, a knee braced against his ribs, gloved fingers skimming the hollow of his throat. Light. Barely there. A tease, not a threat.

“Thought I’d mix it up,” you murmur.

The moonlight frames you in silver, your mask casting half your face in shadow. He watches the way your lips quirk, the way your breath fans against his jaw, closer than necessary. Closer than you should be.

He should move. Counter. Flip you.

Instead, his fingers curl around your wrist, his thumb ghosting over your pulse point.

Dick blinks up at you, the city lights outlining the curve of your smirk.

“Well,” he breathes, grin unfazed. “You sure know how to make a guy feel wanted.”

You hum, tilting your head. “I’d say sorry, but you walked right into it.”

Your knee eases up just enough for him to shift. It’s all he needs.

With a twist, he sweeps your leg from under you, flipping them. Now you’re the one pinned, but your expression doesn’t change—if anything, your smirk deepens.

“Better,” you muse. “Almost had me there.”

“Almost?” He tuts. “You wound me.”

Then, without hesitation, you hook your leg around his waist and throw your weight into a roll. The two of you tumble, shifting control back and forth, dodging and countering, neither ever fully committing to an actual strike.

It’s a dance. One you both know by heart.

You feint left and he dodges too slow. Your fist brushes his jaw, not a real hit, just enough to make him feel it.

“You’re distracted,” you observe, eyes glinting.

He exhales, grip tightening around your wrist just enough to keep you close. “Maybe I just like having you this close.”

“Always the flatterer.”

For a moment, neither moves. Your breaths mix, city lights reflecting in your masked gaze.

Then, you blow him a kiss, fingers ghost over his lips before twisting free.

A quick, effortless slip, like smoke through his fingers. By the time he blinks, you’re already a few feet away, perched on the edge of the rooftop, ready to make your exit. 

His comm buzzes. Jason’s voice, laced with amusement: “Tell me you’re at least trying to win.”

Dick ignores him.

Instead, his eyes flick toward the shadows. "C’mon, sweetheart, you really want it to end so soon?" He calls, the playful edge to his voice betraying the pulse of something more intense. “I’m starting to have fun.”

“Yeah?” You step into the moonlight, half a step in front of him. “You’re losing, horribly.”

You paused.

“But I’ve always liked how optimistic you were, Grayson. It’s cute.”

He can’t help but smile at the sound of his last name leaving your lips with a casualness that does something to him. He’s heard it from everyone, whether it be taunts or flirty whispers, but from you, it lands differently.

“I’m losing?” He raises an eyebrow, a challenge in his voice, but his heart pounds just a little faster. “I don’t think I feel like a loser.” In fact, he feels more alive than ever, adrenaline coursing through him, sparks erupting with every quip you exchanged. 

You let out a laugh, the sound light and effortless. “I’ve transported all of the artifacts from the Gotham Museum hours before you even got here.”

His eyes narrow slightly, but he stays relaxed. He’ll deal with that later. “You know that’s not why I’m here.”

You tilt your head, smirking. “No?”

He steps closer. Slowly. “No,” he repeats, his voice dropping to a softer tone, low enough that it’s just for you.

You watch him, waiting.

He stops when you’re chest to chest, both of you breathing a little heavier now. The proximity is too close. Too much. And yet, neither of you move away.

“Then, what are you here for?”

For a heartbeat, the world slows, and he sees it, something soft in your eyes, hidden behind the mask. Something more than the game you’ve been playing.

“You know,” his voice softens.

But it’s fleeting. Gone before he can fully grasp it, and it hits him harder than he expects.

For a moment, he sees your own eyes underneath the black eye mask softening as they flicker between his own. But it’s gone as soon as it comes and Dick mourns it.

You break the moment first, pulling back just slightly, the warmth of your body still lingering as you glance away. “I’m not… involved with that and you know it,” you say, tone sharp but steady.

You’re not naive. He knows you’ve heard of the rumors circulating about Blackgate and Selina’s growing influence in the prison.

He catches your hand when you try to push him away, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. It’s the same dance they’ve done for years—one step forward, then the pull.

“Yeah, I know,” he murmurs.

“Obviously not.” Your eyes flash as you look away, trying to hide the strain in your voice. “You don’t trust me.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles. “You know I do, sweetheart.” His voice softens, and he steps even closer, bringing his other hand to your jaw, his fingers gently guiding your gaze back to his.

“I just needed to confirm.” His breath catches in his chest as he leans in, his lips almost brushing yours. “You know. B and his procedures.”

He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches. You’re not backing away, but you’re holding yourself together with that quiet strength of yours.

“Dick,” Oracle warns him through the comm. He can feel Bruce’s silent warning echoing through his mind. He’s overstepped.

But Dick doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care about the mission anymore. Not when you’re standing there, eyes locked on his, body close enough that all he can think about is what it would be like to not fight this anymore.

With a quiet resolve, he reaches for his comm, deactivating it, then rips the camera from his suit, crushing it under his foot. The sound of the camera breaking echoes through the silent night, and he watches as surprise flickers in your eyes.

“You’re insane,” you murmur, the disbelief in your voice mixing with relief.

Dick steps even closer, no words now, just the steady thrum of his pulse and the way his body wants to close the distance. “Mission completed anyway,” he mutters, his lips curving into a grin, but it’s softer now.

“As always,” you whisper, your eyes flicking to the shattered camera. There’s a quiet moment where everything feels like it’s teetering on the edge.

Then, without another word, he pulls you in, his lips crashing into yours, soft but insistent. It’s everything he’s wanted, everything you’ve been dancing around for far too long.

Your hands slide up his chest, fingers curling into his suit as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing into yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The kiss is slow, almost agonizing in its sweetness. No more games, no more hesitating. Just the two of you, finally letting go. His hand rests on the back of your neck, fingers tracing down every curve.

“That,” he says, voice husky, “was a mission well done.”

Your eyes twinkle, and you don’t pull away. “You know you’re never going to hear the end of this, right?”

“Worth it,” he grins. “Every second.”

thank you for reading! reblogs n comments are appreciated :3

[slutoru1207]

Stranger in a Strange Land

Viltrimite!Mark x Reader

When Mark first arrived on Earth, he saw it as nothing more than a mission. A planet to study, integrate into, and eventually conquer.

Then, he met you.

It wasn’t anything dramatic. No explosions, no fights, no cosmic events shifting fate itself. You just… bumped into him.

Literally.

You were in a rush, balancing coffee, your bag, and about ten different things when you crashed right into him—and bounced off like you hit a brick wall.

Your coffee spilled. Your things scattered. And you ended up on the pavement, blinking up at the tall, broad strangerwho didn’t even budge.

He looked down at you, eyebrows furrowed, golden eyes studying you with sharp curiosity.

“…You’re fragile.”

That was the first thing he said to you.

And instead of being terrified—you got annoyed.

"Gee, thanks, man," you muttered, gathering your things. "Glad to know I’m not made of steel."

His head tilted, clearly confused. You sighed. Another clueless dude with zero social skills.

Still, he crouched, far too close, picking up your bag like it weighed nothing before offering you a hand.

That’s when you got a good look at him.

He was gorgeous.

Tall, stupidly muscular, sharp jawline, tousled black hair—but his eyes. They were different. Golden, intense, watching you like you were some strange new species.

You hesitated before taking his hand.

It was warm. Solid. And when he pulled you up—he lifted you effortlessly, like you weighed nothing.

That was the beginning.

-

You quickly learned that Mark wasn’t just weird.

He was entirely clueless.

He didn’t understand social norms, personal space, or why humans didn’t casually lift cars to move them out of parking spots.

"What do you mean I can’t?" he frowned, watching as you dragged him away from a busy intersection. "It’s inefficient."

"It’s illegal," you corrected. "And it freaks people out!"

"But I’m helping."

"You're scaring people, Mark!"

He looked at the pedestrians, who were staring in horror after watching him lift a sedan with one hand.

"…They should be grateful."

You groaned. "Okay, we need to talk."

Mark didn’t understand human food, either.

"You’re telling me," he said, staring at the plate of pancakes in front of him, "that this is considered 'breakfast'?"

"Yeah?" you said, confused. "Why? What do you eat?"

His eyes darkened just slightly.

You decided not to ask.

Instead, you shoved a fork into his hand. "Just try it."

He sighed, looking skeptical—but took a bite.

And then… he froze.

You watched as his expression slowly shifted—surprise, wonder, then… something almost like awe.

"…This is good," he muttered.

You grinned. "See? Welcome to the magic of pancakes."

For the first time, he smiled.

A real, genuine, boyish grin. And it made your stomach flip.

-

Mark was blunt, honest, and terrifyingly intense.

But as time passed, he softened—at least around you.

You caught him watching you sometimes. Not in a creepy way—but in pure fascination.

"You’re so small," he’d say out of nowhere.

You raised an eyebrow. "Gee, thanks."

His lips twitched. "I like it."

…Oh.

Then there were the moments he got protective.

Like the time a guy got too close, too pushy.

Mark didn’t say a word. Didn’t need to.

He just stepped forward, standing at his full overpowering height, eyes glowing, and… yeah. The guy practically ran.

You had to drag Mark away before he could actually kill someone.

"You can’t just threaten people, Mark!"

"Why not?"

"Because that’s not how humans work!"

"Then how do I make sure no one touches you?"

You paused.

Your heart pounded.

"...You just ask me if I want them to."

His gaze flickered. He was silent for a long time before muttering, "I don’t want anyone else to touch you."

Oh.

-

Mark didn’t know what love was.

Not in the way humans did.

But he knew that whenever he was near you, his chest felt lighter. That when you laughed, something warm spread through him. That when you weren’t around, he felt restless.

And when someone even looked at you the wrong way, he had to physically restrain himself from acting on pure, primal instinct.

So, one night—he just asked.

"What does it mean when you want to keep someone?"

You blinked. "What?"

"When you don’t want anyone else near them. When you think about them constantly. When their happiness makes your chest feel—" he paused, searching for the word, "—lighter."

Your heart stopped.

Slowly, you set your drink down. "Mark…"

He stared at you, waiting. Expectant. Hopeful.

"You’re describing love," you whispered.

Something in his expression shifted.

For a long time, he didn’t say anything. Then, finally—he reached for your hand.

His grip was gentle. Careful.

Like he had already decided.

"Then, I love you."

And just like that—you were ruined.

[yujisdreamgirl]

husband!nanami who is also the father of your 2 children. dated for 6 years and married for 3–you couldn’t ask for anything more.

husband!nanami who is visibly confused during a conversation he had with his colleagues.

nanami usually avoids the break room whilst it was crowded. unfortunately, on a rare day that he’s forgotten to pick up his coffee from his favourite café, he had to walk into a break room full of a bunch of his coworkers talking about their children’s birthdays. they immediately turn to nanami who was standing in the corner and involved him in the conversation.

“it’s my daughter’s birthday soon. yeah i’m probably getting her one of those dolls and shit—she’s turning 5.” the suited up man takes a sip out of his coffee.

nanami nods apprehensively, wishing to leave the room already. “that’s nice. what are you getting for your wife?” he asks.

“what?” all four of his coworkers turned to look at him, and suddenly it felt like an episode of The Voice.

“…don’t you get your wife a gift when it’s your children’s birthdays??” the only time nanami is ever confused is when he does crossword puzzles. this.. is a whole different level.

his coworkers laugh at the absurd statement, some scoff and one pats nanami on the back.

—

nanami drives back home from work but he was more quiet than usual. he would typically turn the radio on and tap his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat. the car however was dead silent.

“who doesn’t give their wife a gift..? tch.”

“do these young men even love their wives anymore? eugh.”

“y/n always seems really happy when i give her gifts on the girls’ birthday.. i can’t imagine not giving her any.”

—

he arrives home and parks in the garage, sighing and cracking his back before bursting through the door.

“i’m h—” before he could finish his sentence, his 3-year-old twin girls came running to hug him.

“daddy! daddy! you’re home!” they giggle and cling onto his legs as nanami leans over to place his hand on your back and kiss your lips. “hello my darlings,” he smiles.

“you’re home early.”

“just missed my girls a lot.”

—

it’s 11pm. the kids are asleep and you’ve done your skincare, the night lamp on as you lay in bed with your husband.

as you snuggle under the sheets, you suddenly feel big arms snake around your torso. you giggle and pull them closer to you before deciding to turn around and face the man beside you. you lay your head on his chest and he immediately caresses your back.

“my love?” nanami speaks up.

“yeeeees?” you sing. he holds you tighter now, before uttering: “you know how i give you a gift for the girls’ birthday?”

you smile softly at the memory—how could you forget? every birthday for three years, he always manages to surprise you with a gift. he treasures the day dearly. it’s your daughters’ birthday but it’s your birth-day.

“i just found out that not every father does that. at least.. my coworkers don’t.” you look up at him now, seeing his scrunched eyebrows and solemn pout—you can already tell it bothers him. “it’s absurd, isn’t it? what do you think?”

you hum, your eyes never leaving his expression. “to be honest, i’ve never witnessed someone do what you do. it’s not exactly common practice,”

nanami sighs, “i guess you’re right. i just love you so much, you know? i’ll keep showing my appreciation on the day that means a lot to me, to us. it’s the day we became a family and i.. i want to make sure you know how important you are, too.” his voice is soft, as though he's been carrying this thought for a while. you blink, the weight of his words settling in your chest. he doesn't say it often, but when he does, it’s clear he means every syllable.

a small laugh escapes you, touched by his sincerity. “i know, baby. and i’m thankful for it, for you.”

he presses a kiss to your forehead, his arms tightening around you as if he’s trying to hold on to the moment. “me too, darling. more than you’ll ever know.”

͙͘͡★ dividers by @bernardsbendystraws & @cafekitsune 👔

[daeniradraconis]

High on Love - Jack H.

Hey lovelies! 💖 I know I promised to work on Age is Just a Number and my Auston Matthews fic, but an idea for a story about Jack being high on pain meds after surgery popped into my head, and I couldn’t resist writing it first! But don’t worry, the others are definitely coming soon!

I hope you enjoy reading it! ✨

For more fun: masterlist

---

Jack stirs, his lashes fluttering against pale skin. He looks exhausted, the painkillers keeping him soft and pliant, his limbs heavy against the hospital bed. A slow, lazy smile spreads across his face when his bleary eyes land on you.

“Babe,” he sighs, his voice thick and warm, like honey. He reaches for your hand but completely misses, his fingers clumsily grasping at the air before falling back to the sheets.

You take his hand gently, threading your fingers through his. “I’m right here, love.”

Jack just stares at you, utterly smitten. His pupils are wide, his hair a mess, and there’s an almost childlike wonder in his expression. And yet, even like this, completely drugged out and ridiculous, he’s still stupidly handsome. It’s almost unfair.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs. “My pretty little girlfriend.”

You giggle, rubbing soft circles against the back of his hand. Yep, he’s definitely still high as a kite. “Thank you, baby.”

Jack’s brows knit together suddenly. “Wait. Are you real? Or am I… dead?”

Ellen sighs from the chair on the other side of the bed, watching all of this unfold with thinly veiled amusement. “She’s real, Jack.”

Jack’s head lolls toward her, his sleepy eyes blinking in surprise. “Mom?”

“Yes, Jack,” Ellen says patiently. She looks tired, but there’s something else in her expression, too. A tenderness, a quiet fondness, like she’s looking at her baby boy rather than her fully grown 23-year-old son.

Jack stares at her for a long moment before his eyes suddenly widen. He turns back to you, gripping your hand with what little strength he has.

“Babe. We got caught.”

Your stomach drops slightly. He can’t mean—

“What?”

Jack swallows hard, looking genuinely panicked. “She knows about us.”

You exchange a glance with Ellen, whose lips are already twitching with laughter.

“Jack,” you say carefully, “we’ve been together for three years. And, sweetheart, your mom caught us five months in. She’s known for a long time.”

Jack shakes his head furiously. “No, no, no. We were in spy mode. No one was supposed to know.”

Ellen snorts. “Jack. I caught you a long time ago.”

Jack frowns. “No, you didn’t.”

Ellen exhales sharply, rubbing her forehead like she feels a migraine coming on. “I walked in on you two.”

Jack tilts his head, eyes clouded with confusion. He looks far too cute to be taken seriously.

Ellen’s voice grows exasperated. “In your kitchen, Jack. You were barely dressed. And your father was with me. We saw you.”

Jack looks at her like she’s lost her mind. “Mom. Be serious.”

“I AM SERIOUS.”

Jack just blinks at her, completely unconvinced. “Nah. Didn’t happen.”

Ellen groans, rubbing a hand down her face. “Oh, for the love of—” She turns to you, confused. “You remember, right?”

You bite your lip, your face heating at the memory. “I definitely remember. It was the most embarrassing moment of my life. Jack, you didn’t have pants on. And I didn’t have anything on top.”

Jack squints at you, gaze searching. Then, suddenly, his expression softens, a slow, lazy grin tugging at his lips.

“I just remember how hot you look naked.”

Ellen groans again. “Jack, concentrate.”

You sigh, smoothing your fingers through Jack’s messy hair. “Baby, I think the pain meds are making you a little loopy.”

Jack hums, leaning into your touch like a lost puppy. “Love when you call me baby.” His lips quirk up at the corners. “Say it again.”

Ellen shakes her head, an incredulous but affectionate smile tugging at her lips. “And here I was, worrying that all those times you hit your head on the ice had done some real damage,” Ellen sighs. “Turns out, all you needed were painkillers to go completely off the rails.” She pushes herself up from the chair with a smirk. “I’m getting a coffee. You two lovebirds enjoy this little moment.”

She barely makes it two steps before Jack’s entire face lights up.

“WAIT.”

You both jump.

Jack gasps dramatically. “WHERE IS LUKE?!”

You and Ellen share a confused look. “Jack, you’re not at home, darling. You’re in the hospital. Luke’s with the team, playing.”

Ellen pinches the bridge of her nose. “These drugs are brutal, Y/N. He’s completely lost it.”

Jack squeezes your hand, looking so heartbreakingly lost that you almost feel bad for laughing. “But I want Luke! He’s the best roommate.” His voice is full of pure, unfiltered adoration. “And he’s so smart. Like, genius-level math smart. He knows how to do derivatives, baby. I don’t even know how to spell that. And his hair? So curly. So perfect. It’s—” He pauses, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s unfair.”

You and Ellen barely manage to hold back your laughter as Jack scowls, grumbling under his breath about “stupid, unfairly perfect genetics.”

“You’re really jealous, aren’t you, Jacky?” you tease.

Jack nods aggressively. “YES. And he’s taller than me. It’s messed up. I’m the older one. I should be the taller one.”

You smile softly. “But you love him, not right?”

Jack sighs. “So much.” His lip wobbles slightly. “He’s my best friend.”

Ellen tilts her head, amused. “Quinn’s not gonna like that, Jack.”

Jack gasps, eyes wide with panic. “Ohh, don’t tell Quinn that, Mom!” Then he turns to you. “Babe, Quinn is so cool.”

You bite back a laugh. “I know, sweetheart. I met him.”

Jack nods with absolute conviction. “No, no, you don’t understand. He’s not just smart—he’s brilliant. Emotional intelligence, problem-solving, all that deep, psychological stuff. And he can cook.” Jack’s eyes widen as if this is the most shocking revelation of all. “Like, really cook. Not just toast or eggs—actual meals. And don’t even get me started on his skating. He’s the smoothest, fastest, most effortless skater I’ve ever seen. It’s like he was born on the ice.”

Ellen arches her brow. “Best skater, huh?”

Jack looks deeply offended. “Mom. I’m serious. And you know he’s the best swimmer.”

You blink. “What?” You are seriously confused now.

Jack nods solemnly. “Like, if hockey wasn’t his thing? He’d go Olympic mode.”

Ellen sighs. “Jack, Quinn swims, like, twice a year.”

Jack gasps. “Lies! Mom, you don’t even know your own son. Shame!”

Ellen turns to you with an exaggerated sigh, giving you a knowing look. “You know, Y/N, with the way he keeps crashing all over the ice, it’s only a matter of time before he ends up permanently concussed. So… be prepared.”

Jack pouts. “Mom! I don’t even fall that much. That was so mean.”

Then, suddenly, he grips your hand tighter, eyes shining. “Babe, can we get a dog?”

Ellen groans. “Not this again.”

Jack gasps dramatically. “Mom, I don’t live with you anymore. I’m an adult. This is a decision between me and my partner.” He turns to you, nodding with conviction. “Two golden retrievers. And I’ll teach them to play hockey.”

Ellen pulls out her phone. “I cannot wait to tell Jim, Luke, and Quinn about all of this.”

Jack gasps. “Mom, no—”

“Oh, yes,” Ellen smirks.

Jack pouts, turning to you, desperate. “Babe, you won’t let them make fun of me, right?”

You just grin, brushing your fingers over his cheek. “I don’t know, Jacky. You did just deny our entire relationship.”

Jack’s face falls. “Oh my God. Are we still together?”

You burst into hysterical laughter.

Ellen sighs dramatically. “I’m so leaving,” she says, heading toward the door.

Jack lets out a contented sigh, sinking deeper into his pillow, his eyes locking with yours as he gazes at you with an overwhelming sense of love. "But this is amazing news," he says softly, a smile tugging at his lips. "Because one day, I'm going to marry you."

Your heart melts. “Oh, baby…”

Ellen pauses at the door, looking back at the two of you. “You know what? You should have your wedding in Michigan. The lake house would be the perfect spot for it.”

Jack’s eyes light up, and he looks at you with excitement. “Yes! And Luke can be my best man. Quinn can be yours. So they won’t fight. He loves you like a little sister anyway. You’ll be beautiful in your dress. And I’ll cry at the altar the moment I see you.”

Ellen rolls her eyes dramatically, just like Jack usually does, but the smile on her lips betrays the amusement she’s trying to hide as she exits the room.

You groan, dropping your head onto Jack’s shoulder as your heart swells with happiness. "Just so you know, I’ll hold you to that promise once you’re finally clean from the drugs."

Jack just grins, his eyes fluttering closed, as he drifts back to sleep, completely at peace with the world.

[sturnsblogs]

FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL

Teacher!Matt X Milf!Reader

────୨ৎ────

As you pull into the school parking lot, you glance in the rearview mirror to see Eliana still swaying to the song, completely in her own world. You almost don’t want to interrupt her, but you know it’s time.

“Alright, Eli,” you say softly, putting the car in park. “We’re here.”

Eliana stops singing immediately, her big eyes taking in the school she had been so excited about all morning. Now that she’s actually here, the excitement dims just a little, hesitation creeping in.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face her. “You okay, baby?”

She nods slowly but doesn’t say anything, her fingers twisting together in her lap. The confident little girl who had been singing at the top of her lungs just minutes ago now looks a bit unsure.

You smile, reaching back to squeeze her tiny hands. “You’re gonna do amazing, sweetheart. And remember, Mr. Sturniolo is really nice, right?”

She nods again but stays quiet.

You step out of the car, walking around to her side to open the door. “Come on, let’s go,” you encourage gently, lifting her out of her seat and setting her down. She grabs onto your hand tightly as you both walk toward the school doors.

The second you step inside, your eyes land on him.

Matt.

He’s standing near his classroom door, chatting with another parent, his expression easygoing and warm. He looks good—too good for a teacher, honestly. The navy blue button-up he’s wearing is rolled at the sleeves, showing his forearms, and the way he laughs at something the other parent says sends a subtle shiver down your spine.

You blink, shaking the thought away. Focus. Your daughter is starting school, not you.

Eliana’s grip on your hand tightens the closer you get, her small fingers clinging to yours like she’s second-guessing this whole thing. You rub your thumb over her knuckles reassuringly.

Matt catches sight of you both, his conversation wrapping up as he turns to greet you. The smile he gives is effortless, like he’s genuinely happy to see you again.

“Eliana,” he says, crouching slightly to her level. “Good morning! I was wondering when you were gonna get here.”

Eliana shifts on her feet, suddenly shy, pressing herself a little closer to your leg.

Matt’s smile softens. “A little nervous?”

She nods but doesn’t say anything.

“That’s okay,” he reassures her, his voice calm and steady. “The first day can feel kinda big, but I promise, it’s gonna be fun. We’ve got coloring, storytime, and I even saved a spot for your picture on the board.”

At that, Eliana peeks up at him, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “You did?”

Matt nods. “Of course. Your artwork deserves a special place in our classroom.”

Eliana looks up at you, as if silently asking if it’s okay to trust him. You nod with an encouraging smile, brushing a hand over her pigtails.

“You’re gonna have a great day, sweetheart.”

She hesitates for a moment before finally letting go of your hand.

Matt grins. “How about I show you where to put your backpack?”

Eliana nods, still quiet but a little less tense now. As she follows him inside, Matt glances over his shoulder at you.

“I’ll take good care of her,” he says lightly, his voice reassuring yet warm.

Something about the way he says it makes your heart do an odd little flip. You force a small smile, pushing away the strange feeling settling in your chest.

“Thanks, Matt.”

His lips twitch like he caught the way you said his name, but he doesn’t say anything. Just sends you one last look before walking inside with your daughter, leaving you standing there with a lingering warmth in your chest that you can’t quite shake.

A/N- I actually love this.

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @jimmasterflashh @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys

[rafesgreasycurtainbangs]

I LOVED THE WAY YOU WROTE RAFE IN UR LAST BLURB. just seeing how your body had changed in front of him and he didn’t even noticed makes him feel guilty about not nothing earlier or how you probably couldn’t eat your usual meals because your baby would make you sick if you even thought of it. and one night (maybe that night.OH the night you probably told ward and rose, and ward made a snide comment about how inattentive rafe was or something) rafe just loses it on himself

i don’t give a shit about him - rafe cameron

series masterlist

warnings: pregnancy, angst, WARD & ROSE, mentions of drug use, suggestive

au: thank you for this request!! i honestly loved writing the last one so this one was really really fun to write

word count: 1.6k

Dinner at Tannyhill had been planned for a week. You and Rafe both knew it was coming. But what Ward and Rose didn’t know—yet—was that this wasn’t just any dinner. You had spent all day trying to quiet the nerves twisting in your stomach, rehearsing how you were going to say it, how you were going to answer their inevitable questions. Rafe, on the other hand, barely spoke on the drive over, his grip tight on the steering wheel, his jaw locked in that way it always did when he was bracing himself for something.

When you arrived, everything was already set. Rose greeted you with a polite smile, air-kissing your cheek before leading you into the dining room. Ward barely looked up from his phone, only acknowledging Rafe with a quick, “You’re late.” You weren’t late. But you knew by now that, to Ward Cameron, Rafe was always doing something wrong.

Dinner started like any other—forced conversation, stiff smiles, Ward subtly nitpicking at Rafe’s job, his responsibilities, his choices. But the whole time, your heart was pounding, your fingers fidgeting with the napkin in your lap. Rafe noticed. Halfway through dinner, his hand found yours under the table, squeezing once.

It was time.

You took a shaky breath, setting your fork down. “Um… there’s something we need to tell you.” Both Ward and Rose looked up at the same time. Rafe’s grip on your hand tightened. He exhaled through his nose and just said it. “She’s pregnant.” The room fell into complete silence. Rose blinked, her wine glass pausing halfway to her lips. Ward’s brows pulled together slightly, as if trying to process what he just heard. Then, finally, Rose spoke. “Oh.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the flat, almost hesitant reaction still sent a sharp pang through your chest. Ward, on the other hand, exhaled sharply, setting his drink down with an audible clink. He leaned back in his chair, gaze flicking between you and Rafe. “Well,” he started, voice low and calculated. “I suppose the real question is… what’s the plan?” You swallowed hard. Rafe straightened in his seat. “We’re keeping it.” Ward scoffed. “That much is obvious. But I meant, what’s your plan? How do you expect to take care of a child when you can barely take care of yourselves?”

Rafe’s entire body tensed. Rose cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “Ward—” “No, I think it’s a fair question,” Ward continued, his sharp gaze landing back on his son. “Do you even have the slightest idea what this kind of responsibility entails? Or were you just going to wing it like you do everything else?” Rafe didn’t react. He sat perfectly still, his expression blank, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly. “I work for the company,” he said finally, his voice low, controlled. “I have a salary. I can provide for her and the baby.”

Ward let out a humorless chuckle. “A job? Rafe, I gave you that job. You think that’s enough?” He shook his head, taking a slow sip of his drink before muttering, “God, you can’t even show up to work focused half the time.” Your stomach twisted. Rafe inhaled sharply through his nose. “I’m clean.” Ward raised a brow, unimpressed. “For how long this time?” Silence. You felt Rafe’s muscles go rigid beside you, but he didn’t break. His expression didn’t waver. “Six months,” he muttered, voice clipped.

Ward hummed, unconvinced, before finally turning his attention to you. “And you?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “What’s your plan now?” You blinked. “What?” “Well,” Ward continued, voice eerily calm, “I assume you’ll be quitting your little bartending job. Not much of a long-term career path there.” His gaze swept over you, scrutinizing. “Or were you expecting Rafe to shoulder everything while you sit back?”

That’s when Rafe finally snapped. His chair scraped back abruptly, the sound cutting through the tense air. His hands slammed onto the table, rattling the glasses. “Don’t,” Rafe snapped, his voice sharp, warning. “Don’t talk to her like that.” Ward barely reacted, only raising a brow in slight amusement. “I’m just asking a reasonable question—” “No, you’re being a condescending asshole,” Rafe bit out. Rose inhaled sharply. “Rafe.” “No,” he growled. “I don’t give a shit what you think about me, but you don’t get to sit here and act like she’s some fucking gold digger just because I’m the one making more money.”

Ward sighed, exasperated. “Oh, grow up, Rafe.” “No, how about you grow up?” Rafe shot back, his voice rising. “How about you actually try being a fucking dad instead of sitting here and treating me like shit every time I do something you don’t agree with?” Your breath caught in your throat. You had seen Rafe angry before. But this wasn’t his usual reckless rage—this wasn’t wild and unpredictable. This was calculated. Controlled. And then Ward said, “I hate to break it to you, son, but being a father takes more than throwing a tantrum at the dinner table.” Rafe’s entire body went still.

His hands were shaking, his breathing uneven. His jaw clenched so tight you were surprised he didn’t crack a tooth. But then… he turned. And his eyes met yours. And that’s when he saw it. You weren’t just sitting there, unaffected. You were tense, your breath coming in short, uneven exhales, your fingers curled into the fabric of your dress—clutching your stomach. Rafe’s anger disappeared instantly. His chest tightened, his stomach twisting in guilt. His voice softened, barely above a whisper.

“Baby.” You swallowed hard, shaking your head quickly. “It’s okay,” you whispered. But your voice was small. And Rafe hated that. His father, his rage, none of it mattered anymore. The only thing that mattered was you. Rafe exhaled sharply before turning back to Ward. “You don’t get to have an opinion on this,” he muttered. “Not about me. Not about her. Not about our kid.” Ward’s expression remained unreadable, but for once, he stayed silent. Rafe didn’t wait for a response. He turned back to you, his voice gentle. “Let’s go.” You hesitated, glancing between him and Ward. “You don’t have to stay and listen to this,” Rafe said softly. “I’m not letting him sit here and act like he has any control over our lives.” And for the first time that night, you actually believed him. So you nodded. Rafe didn’t let go of your hand once as he led you out the door.

The drive was silent at first. Rafe’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel, his grip so tight you thought he might snap it in half. But then, finally, he exhaled sharply and muttered, “I fucking hate him.” You looked over at him. “Rafe…” His grip loosened slightly. His jaw clenched and unclenched, frustration still rolling off of him. But then, he reached over, resting his palm against your thigh. “I don’t care what he says,” Rafe murmured. “I don’t care what anyone says. We’re gonna be okay.”

The moment you walked through the front door, exhaustion hit you like a brick wall. You barely took two steps inside before Rafe was pulling you into him, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist. He buried his face into your neck, inhaling deeply. “I’m sorry,” he murmured against your skin. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. “For what?” “For letting him talk to you like that.” His voice was low, strained. “For not getting us out of there sooner.” You pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him. His blue eyes were still clouded with frustration, but underneath that…there was guilt. “You don’t have to apologize,” you whispered. “It’s not your fault.”

Rafe’s lips parted like he wanted to argue, but instead, he just shook his head and cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs tracing gently over your cheekbones. His gaze was intense, scanning your face like he was searching for something—reassurance, maybe. Proof that you weren’t second-guessing everything because of Ward’s words. But you knew Rafe. And you knew that no matter how much you reassured him, it wouldn’t erase the fact that he still blamed himself. After a moment, he exhaled sharply. “Come here.”

His grip on your waist tightened as he guided you toward the bedroom, his movements slower, more deliberate now. When you reached the edge of the bed, he turned you to face him completely. “I need to make it up to you,” he murmured. Your brows furrowed. “Rafe, you don’t—”

“I do.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. “I need you to know how much I love you. How much I love this—” His hands slid down, palms resting against your still-flat stomach. His gaze softened. “Our baby.” Your chest tightened. Slowly, Rafe leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Then your temple. Your cheek. His lips lingered for a second before he trailed down, kissing the sensitive spot just beneath your ear.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered. His hands moved with deliberate slowness as he slipped the straps of your dress down your arms, his lips trailing every inch of exposed skin. Every kiss was reverent, every touch gentle, worshipping. Like he was making a silent promise to you—to both of you. When he finally laid you down, his body covering yours, you knew this wasn’t just about making love. It was about making sure you knew. Knew that nothing else mattered. That no words from anyone—not Ward, not Rose, not anyone—would change the way Rafe felt about you. That no matter what, you weren’t in this alone. And as he held you that night, his arms wrapped around you protectively, you let yourself believe it.

[revelboo]

I recently saw some transformers figures at target and couldn't help but laugh at how bad they were 😭. this pack was for tfone, but they just straight up put cyberverse starscream and g1 Megatron in the pack instead. and they gave optimus his g1 face, but tfone body??? idk what happened but they did my boys dirty, only b127 is from the correct universe lol. I'm definitely sticking to the blokees, they're way cuter anyways

🤣 oh those are awful.

Off to a great start- just accidentally traumatized a bunch of coworkers apparently. Someone brought in some plants from their greenhouse and my weird little brain zeroes in on a teeny jumping spider on one. So I’m just standing in an office with four other people letting it parkour over my fingers and making everyone else really uncomfortable. I was only halfway paying attention and it bungeed to freedom at some point. I’ve never seen any of them ever move as fast as when I said ‘oops.’

Everything Is Alright Pt 144

Starscream x Reader, Megatron x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• Head resting against him, you can feel the thrum of his spark, that steady, familiar pulse sinking into you. And you don’t know what to make of the fact that he’d stopped. That he could have taken what he wanted and hadn’t. But then maybe that’s it. Maybe he doesn’t want you. Guilt twists through you when you think of it in that light, because he’d not bonded you because he’d loved you. Or even liked you. He’d been trying to save your life and had ended up trapping himself. Neither of you have really talked about it either aside from you awkwardly thanking him. He has to resent you for that. And for shoving Star’s sparkling off on him. By all rights, he should despise you. Which is why you can’t understand when he does stuff like this, holding you so gently.

• “You’re quiet,” Megatron grumbles, chin brushing the top of your head. Upset about Starscream being upset? And you shift against him, curling into him as if seeking his warmth. The back of one of your hands cool against his plating as he reaches up to capture it in his. “If you spend all your time trying to keep Starscream happy, you’ll never be happy yourself.” Because that seeker is too mercurial, his moods shifting too quickly driven by his ambitions.

• “What about you?” You ask, throat tight. Starting to piece together patterns in his behavior. If anyone else is around, he plays the warlord. But even when it’s only the two of you, you’re not sure that he’s actually happy. He just drops the mail because you’re no threat to him. And how could he be happy when he’d been saddled with you, all of his choices stripped away? “I’m so sorry.” For getting him involved in this mess without a say. For taking his choices away. Trapping him with you.

• Stiffening when your voice breaks, he looks down and grimaces. Again? Hasn’t even done anything and you’re leaking again. Primus help him understand strange, soft organics and the way their minds work. “Why am I always upsetting you without even doing anything?” He growls, gripping your chin and tipping your face up. And you offer him a watery smile to make him vent in frustration. What imagined slight is he guilty of now?

• Almost laughing at his expression even though it’s not really funny at all, you twist around in his lap to straddle him and lean forward to brush a kiss against his cheek. And he freezes completely making you sure you shouldn’t have done that. That he really isn’t interested and he’s only touched you to aggravate Star. That’s why he’d stopped so quickly, he didn’t want you, only to mess with Star. “I really didn’t mean to drag you into this,” you manage as he just stares at you. “And you shouldn’t have to deal with this. With me.” And Starscream. Can’t understand why he’d saved you to begin with. Why he’d bothered when you’re nothing to him. And he just tips his head back to stare at the ceiling, a big hand cupping the back of your neck. “I know you didn’t want this.”

• “You little fool,” he murmurs, tone affectionate. Jaw working, he huffs through his vents, trying to figure out what you’re thinking. So sick of misunderstandings. Do you think you somehow took advantage of him? Head ducking, his mouth brushes yours as his other hand slides to your hip and tightens on you. Tugs you more flush against him. And those soft hands cling to him as you make a soft noise. “I chose this,” he growls, head lifting so his lips barely ghost against yours.

• “What do you want?” Wings flaring aggressively, Starscream’s optics narrow as Shockwave stares him down, unintimidated by his bared denta. Hates that he has no idea what’s going through the scientist’s processor. No tells to what he’s thinking. Still aside from the soft sound of his cannon slowly tapping against his thigh as his head turns back toward the door. Like he knows you’re in there with Megatron. Like he knows everything.

• Head tipping as Shockwave’s attention slides from the closed door to Megatron’s habsuite to the Seeker, he tries to figure that out himself. Because he’s been fixating on this world even before they crashed here. Had seeded this world with energon millennia ago. Chose this world for his experiments, even though there were other worlds better suited to it. So why this world? Why does this one matter to him. There’s something there in the dark corners of his processor, a memory just out of reach that doesn’t even feel like it’s his. There’s a reason why he keeps getting drawn back here, but he can’t get ahold of it. And that missing piece hurts him, digs in with jagged edges when he tries to focus on it, tries to remember.

Previous

[criminallyvenomous]

slut! - Spencer Reid X Reader

• got love-struck, went straight to my head. got lovesick all over my bed. love to think you’ll never forget.

• In which years post one night stand with Derek Morgan, you’re assigned to the B.A.U. The thing is, he doesn't remember you. But, Spencer’s there and he would never forget.

• Gender neutral reader

• Word count - 1,298

~

“Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.” You mumbled to yourself as you made your way out of SSA Aaron Hotchner’s office.

You had been preparing for this interview for weeks, as soon as the opportunity was presented to you. Joining the B.A.U. was an honor for any agent. The unit started small and worked its way up the F.B.I. ladder to become renowned in its capabilities. Getting this job would’ve normally gotten you a high you would be riding for months. Except, as you left the office with a smile on your face, you saw him. Derek Morgan.

Years ago, when you were just starting in the bureau you had met Agent Morgan. He was older and already established, but notably, very attractive. The two of you crossed paths a few times before you really met.

“So, this is how I have to get your name?” He joked.

You were outside the coffee cart, heading to grab your order after the barista called your name. It was a stupid pick up line, but the cadence of how he said it met with his expression lead you to entertain the interaction.

Later that week Derek entertained an evening with you. A casual meal that you both knew what you really wanted from. It was a pleasurable night, of course. Several rounds with several positions of enjoyment. So when you saw him in the very same room as you years later, it was a shock.

You stumbled your way through the bullpen as you made your way into the conference room with the rest of your new team.

“This is SSA Y/N Y/L/N. They’ll be joining the team as of today. Make them feel comfortable.” Agent Hotchner said to the table as everyone turned to greet you.

“I’m Penelope, the ‘tech wizard’ of the team. I can’t wait to work together.”

“Spencer.” He smiled at you, reassuringly. “Don’t worry, it’s not as scary as it seems.”

“I’m Derek Morgan, it’s nice to meet you.” He extended his hand and you shook it reluctantly as it hit you. He had no idea who you were.

How could he not know who you are? You spent hours together after weeks of interactions. You had slept together for heaven’s sake. Were you just another one of Derek Morgan’s conquests? Sure, you had no deep longing for a relationship with the man, but you at least were expecting him to know who you were.

“Are you okay?” Spencer whispered. You realized you had completely missed the presentation with the overwhelming flood of thoughts in your head.

“Yeah, I just spaced out. Thanks.” You responded. While Hotch had his back turned, Spencer slid his notebook over to you.

“Here.” He smiled. He had taken detailed notes of the case along with his own thoughts on different bits. You looked to Spencer, giving him a tight-lipped smile and a grateful head nod.

The case was urgent, they all were, but this was a missing kid case. The boy’s name was Thomas ‘Tommy’ Randall from Indiana. His parents called the police when he wasn’t in his bed this morning. The team was rushing to the plane as they swapped ideas. With all of this you were beginning to forget the whole ‘Derek’ ordeal. Key word : were.

“Heard you worked with the gang unit. I bet that was rough, at least with the B.A.U., we don’t stay in one place for too long.” Derek took a seat across from you on the plane.

“I guess that’s true. Though, I found it rewarding to put an end to years of torment in communities.” You tried to keep the peace, possibly hoping for the chance lights go off in his head with recollection.

The case didn’t end how you hoped for the kid, or for your first with the team. He was dead before you even landed. The most comfort the family would get was that you found the killer/ kidnapper. He was a repeat offender who flew under the radar due to his traveling across state lines in his truck. He delivered supplies for different factories and would use truck stops as drop offs, some of the kids even survived.

“Does anyone want to get a drink?” Agent Rossi asked the team as you all began to head out of the bureau.

“Ooh, yes please!” Garcia replied and began to start listing the local bars with the best prices per pitcher.

“How about you, Y/N?” JJ asked, causing a few of them to turn towards you.

“Why not? Hell of a first day.” You replied and the group began to either drive or simply walk to the bar down the block.

You weren’t feeling very talkative. It was a depressing enough day without having to deal with intoxicated interactions with the team. Everyone else seemed to be having a good time, though. It was clear they had known each other for years and had bonded over them. Even Agent Hotchner, who struck you as cold, was laughing and telling Rossi about his son’s recent game.

“Hey, how are you? Got you something, seemed like you preferred the tequila to the whiskey.” Spencer sat next to you and slid you a shot glass. He barely drank tonight, only a watered down with plenty of ice whiskey that Derek had gotten him.

“Thanks.” You smiled, taking the drink and downing it almost immediately which made Spencer chuckle softly.

“Oh, you know, tough day.” You told him, he nodded.

“The cases with kids always are, but I don’t think that’s all that’s upsetting you.” You turned to get a better look at him. Maybe if you weren’t so focused on Derek and the missing kid today, you would’ve noticed just how kind and attractive he really was.

“Damn, you really are smart.” You replied, earning another laugh from him. This one was more heartfelt and it made you feel better just hearing it.

“So, what’s really bothering you?” He pried. You could tell he didn’t want to disturb or upset you, he just wanted to help. It was both reassuring and refreshing. Maybe you should just come out with it.

“I know Derek.”

“Oh, you guys have met before?” He asked.

“Yeah, we’ve met.” You replied.

“Why didn’t he say anything?”

“I don’t think he remembers meeting me.” You looked down at the empty glass in front of you. He raised his hand and pointed to it for the bartender to get you another. It was sweet.

“Don’t overthink it, he meets a lot of people.” He tried to cheer you up.

“No, like we met ‘intimately’.” You used air quotes, trying to stifle the disappointment by attempting to make it into a joke, something you could potentially laugh at.

“Oh.” That was all he said.

“It was a one time hookup years ago, but I guess I just wasn’t expecting him to not remember it at all.” The bartender put the new shot in front of you and cleared the empty one from the table. Kind of an embarrassing time for the guy to come over, but you didn’t really care right now.

“Derek can be like that, he was a bit of what Garcia calls a ‘man-whore’.” He made you chuckle. “But, he’s settled down now. Maybe he just doesn’t think about that time of his life.”

“That makes sense.” You took the shot and looked back at him. “I guess I’m feeling a little unremarkable.” His eyes softened.

“You are anything but.”

“So are you saying you’d remember me?” You asked, jokingly but with a bit of a flirtation.

“I’m saying I’d never forget you. Especially if we spent the night together.”

“I might just have to hold you to that.”

in a world of boys, he’s a gentleman

@chronicallybubbly

[ribbonedreverie]

Hello!! I saw that “late night drunken call” piece you did and it was quite literally one of the best things i’ve read on here, Do you think you could Atsushi, Ranpo, Chuuya & Dazai realizing their in love with a childhood friend of theirs? Maybe their doing something domestic and it just hits them that, yeah they could do this everyday specially if its You they do it with

Thank you so much for your kind words! I absolutely adored writing this request, and I hope you enjoy the piece just as much as I did creating it. I’m still recovering from some major life changes, but I was able to write these out before everything shifted in my life—and, well, I might have gone a little overboard for a certain character heheh. But can you blame me? There’s something so special about love settling in during the quietest moments!

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙

Chuuya had never needed anyone.

Not when he was a kid with fists too small to fight back. Not when he found a home among The Sheep, carving out his place with blood and bruises, with sharp words and sharper resolve.

But you had been different.

You weren’t a fighter, not like the rest of them, not like him. You weren’t in The Sheep, weren’t caught in the hunger for power and territory. And yet—you were there. Always there. You were the one waiting after every brawl, arms crossed, foot tapping in impatience.

“You’re an idiot, Chuuya.”

You’d say it like a scolding, but your hands were steady as you cleaned the blood from his cheek, as you traced the split in his lip with the kind of gentleness he didn’t know how to handle.

“What if one day you don’t come back?”

He’d scoff, roll his eyes, tell you he wasn’t that easy to kill. “Yeah? Then who the hell’s gonna take care of you?” he’d tease, but some part of him—some deep, quiet part—liked that you worried. Because you were soft where he was jagged. You were warmth in a world that had only ever taught him how to burn, and without ever asking for anything in return, you stayed.

Then, everything had fallen apart.

Betrayal. Lies. Mori’s outstretched hand, the weight of something heavier than he had ever known. And through it all, there was you. Sitting beside him in the cold, your shoulder pressed against his, your presence grounding him when nothing else could.

“You’re not alone,” you had whispered, voice steady, as if willing it to be true.

But then you were gone.

Scattered across Japan with the rest of The Sheep, only distant messages exchanged. But he still answered, always.

Because it had always been you.

And now, after all this time, you were here again.

Older. Wiser. Beautiful in a way that made something in his chest ache. And tonight, you were tending to his wounds, your hands as careful as ever.

“You’re still reckless,” you murmur, shaking your head.

He snorts, tilting his head back against the couch. “And you’re still a pain in the ass.”

You press the alcohol-soaked cotton against his cheek harder than necessary, making him hiss.

“Shit—! I take it back, okay?! Damn,” he grumbles, glaring at you through narrowed eyes.

You raise a brow. “Oh? You’re not used to consequences by now?”

Chuuya exhales sharply through his nose, the corner of his lips twitching. “I can deal with consequences. What I can’t deal with is you sittin’ there, lookin’ at me like that.”

Your hands still. “…Like what?”

His eyes flicker over your face—your furrowed brows, the way your lips press together like you’re holding something back.

“Like you’re still worried about me,” he mutters. “Like you never stopped.”

Silence stretches between you, thick with something unspoken.

You break it first, dipping the cotton into the antiseptic again. “Maybe I didn’t.”

Chuuya watches you carefully, eyes sharp, searching, as if he’s trying to find something in your expression that he already knows is there.

Something in his chest twists. He exhales slowly. “Tch. You’re a real pain, y’know that?”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah? Well, someone’s gotta be.”

The words should be easy, should slip out of his mouth like a well-practiced joke, but instead, they sit heavy on his tongue, thick and aching.

The air shifts.

It’s subtle at first, a slow, creeping tension wrapping around you both, thick and suffocating.

You’re too close. Close enough that he can feel the warmth of your breath against his skin. Close enough that he can see the way your lashes tremble, the way your lips part slightly as you concentrate.

His pulse pounds in his ears. He should say something—should crack a joke, should pull away, should do anything to break the moment.

But he doesn’t.

Because suddenly, the realization crashes over him all at once, sharp and unrelenting.

It had always been you.

Not just in the way you worried about him, not just in the way you stayed when everyone else left. Not just in the way he found himself reaching for his phone when the nights stretched too long and the weight of everything felt too much.

But in this. In the way you exist here, in his space, in his life, as if you had never left.

And he—

He wants this.

Not just tonight. Not just when he’s bruised and beaten and letting you take care of him.

He wants this every day.

He wants to wake up to the sound of your voice.

He wants to come home knowing you’ll be there, waiting, a scolding on your lips and a softness in your eyes.

He wants to reach across the sheets in the middle of the night and feel you.

Not some meaningless one-night distraction, not the cold emptiness of his penthouse, not the quiet ache of loneliness he’s spent years pretending doesn’t exist.

He wants you.

And it terrifies him.

His hands clench against his knees. His throat feels too tight. But then—you look up. And there’s something in your expression—something hesitant, something searching. Like maybe, just maybe, you feel it too.

Chuuya doesn’t think.

Before he can remind himself why this is dangerous, before he can force himself to step back, to pretend—he leans in.

Slowly.

Like he’s testing the waters, like he’s giving you a chance to pull away. You don’t. Your breath hitches, your lips part slightly, and that’s all the invitation he needs. His lips capture yours in a slow, deliberate kiss—one that starts hesitant but quickly grows hungry, desperate.

Your fingers curl into his shirt, your body leaning into his, and he can’t help the groan that rumbles in his chest as he deepens the kiss, tilting his head, his hands finding your waist.

“Shit,” he breathes against your lips, voice rough, almost strained. “I should’ve done this years ago.”

You laugh—breathless, warm, familiar. “Yeah. You should have.”

Chuuya exhales sharply, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands tightening around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

It’s too much—the heat, the years of unspoken longing, the way your body melts against his like you were always meant to be there.

And for the first time in his life, Chuuya isn’t thinking.

He isn’t thinking about The Sheep.

He isn’t thinking about the Port Mafia.

He isn’t thinking about what this means, about what happens next.

There is only this.

Only you.

Only the way you sigh against his lips as he pulls you closer, the way your fingers tangle in his hair, the way you whisper his name like it’s the only thing you’ve ever known.

And for the first time in years—maybe for the first time ever—Chuuya lets himself want.

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙

Atsushi has known you for as long as he can remember.

There are memories of the orphanage that have blurred over time—faded like the ink of an old, forgotten book—but you have always remained clear. A fixture in the storm, a light in the suffocating darkness of those cold, empty halls.

He remembers the way you shielded him from the whispers of the other kids, the ones who recoiled from him like he was something diseased. He remembers the nights when the hunger clawed at his stomach, the way you’d slip half of your stale bread into his hands beneath the dinner table, never meeting his eyes but always pushing it toward him, whispering, Eat, please.

There were nights when the loneliness was unbearable—when the punishments from the headmaster left his body aching, when the weight of being unwanted sat like a lead weight on his chest. And then there was you, slipping through the cracks of his misery, curling up beside him under thin blankets, your forehead pressed to his shoulder, whispering stories of a life beyond the orphanage, a life where the two of you could be free.

“One day, Atsushi, we’ll leave this place together. We’ll have a real home. We’ll be happy.”

And maybe, in those moments, he let himself believe you. But then, life pulled you in different directions.

He was thrown into the world with nothing but the echoes of his past clinging to his ribs like ghosts. And you—you found your own way, carving a path outside of the orphanage, beyond the pain and fear that had once bound you both.

Yet, somehow, you never let go of him.

Even when he joined the ADA, even when he tried to convince himself that the past didn’t matter, that no one needed to remember him, you still did. Checking in, making sure he had someone to come home to, grounding him in a way that nothing else ever could.

And now, sitting beside you in the hush of his small apartment, a forgotten movie flickering on the television, it hits him. Like a thread finally pulled taut, like something that has been waiting—brewing—just beneath the surface, unnoticed until now.

The scent of buttered popcorn lingers in the air. The city hums beyond the window, indifferent to the quiet shift happening inside him.

You stretch slightly, shifting on the couch, your knee brushing against his, close in a way that has never felt unfamiliar. The soft fabric of your sweater slips from your shoulder, revealing a sliver of bare skin. It’s such a small thing, something that shouldn’t make his breath catch, but suddenly he feels everything.

“You’re zoning out,” you say, amused, nudging his arm. Atsushi blinks, throat dry. “Huh?” You tilt your head. “I said, if you didn’t want to watch this, we could’ve picked something else.”

“No, I—” He stops himself, swallows thickly. “It’s fine. I just… got lost for a second.”

Lost.

That’s a word for it.

Because now, everything about this moment feels like too much. The way you smile at the screen, the way you absently steal from his popcorn like it’s yours, the way you exist here, in his space, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Like you belong. And he wants that. Not just tonight. Not just sometimes.

He wants to wake up to the sound of your laughter, wants to come home knowing you’ll be there. He wants to live in this quiet, in this warmth, in this easy, thoughtless togetherness that no one else has ever given him. Because with you, it has never been about pity. It has never been about obligation, about repaying some invisible debt.

You have always just stayed. And maybe—maybe he should have realized it sooner. Maybe he should have known that the reason he never let go of you, even after leaving the orphanage, even after trying so hard to forget where he came from, was because you were always home.

“Atsushi?”

Your voice is softer now, laced with concern. He swallows, fingers clenching slightly against the fabric of his sweatpants. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

No.

No, because his heart is beating too fast, and his head is too full of thoughts he isn’t ready to say out loud, and—and he’s in trouble.

Because this isn’t something fleeting. This isn’t something he can ignore. It’s in the way you’ve been woven into his past, in the way you’ve always been there, even when he thought no one else would be.

And it’s in the way he wants you in his future.

He exhales slowly, forcing himself to smile. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I just…” His words trail off as he looks at you, really looks at you and suddenly, saying never mind feels like a betrayal. Because the words are there, thick in his throat, threatening to slip out.

But instead, he swallows them back, forcing a small chuckle. “Never mind. It’s nothing.” You raise an eyebrow, unconvinced, but you let it go, leaning back into the couch. “If you say so.”

Atsushi exhales, watching you, feeling the weight of his realization settle deep into his bones.

Maybe he’s not ready to say it.

But one day—one day soon—he will.

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙

Ranpo had always known things before anyone else.

It wasn’t arrogance—just fact. He could pick apart a lie before it was spoken, unravel a mystery before the pieces were laid out, see the ending before the story even began.

So, really, it should have been obvious. But somehow, it wasn’t. Somehow, he’s only realizing it now—watching you from across the kitchen as you move around with practiced ease, the warm scent of freshly baked pastries filling the air.

-

He met you when he was still just a boy, before he knew what it meant to be the greatest detective, before Fukuzawa gave him a place to belong.

Back then, he had no patience for people who couldn’t keep up. The world was full of slow thinkers, people who needed explanations for things that should have been obvious. He was always two steps ahead, and everyone else just…wasn’t.

Then you came along.

You were new in town—just another face in a sea of ordinary ones. He wasn’t interested. But for whatever reason, you kept talking to him. Kept appearing in the little moments between his games, between the puzzles he set up for himself just to stay entertained.

He remembers the first time you challenged him, bold and unafraid.

“Bet you can’t guess what I have in my pocket.”

A ridiculous game. A waste of his time.

“Too easy,” he had scoffed, barely sparing you a glance. “It’s a piece of candy. You always keep something sweet with you. Probably strawberry-flavored. And you probably took two—one for now, one for later.”

Your face had lit up, more impressed than you should have been. Instead of getting annoyed, instead of being put off by how different he was, you grinned and held up the exact candy he’d described.

“Okay, maybe you are as smart as you say.”

And just like that, you kept showing up.

You never slowed him down. You never told him he was being too much. You just were there, walking beside him, keeping up with him in ways no one else ever had.

And when Fukuzawa took him in, you never left.

Maybe he should have realized it then—what that meant.

-

“Ranpo,” you call without looking up, setting out a plate of his favorite sweets, “if you don’t come eat these while they’re still warm, I’m feeding them to someone else.”

He gasps in mock offense. “What?! Betrayal! I thought we had something special!”

You roll your eyes. “Then get over here, drama king.”

And he does—because, well, he was going to anyway. But this time, he notices things.

The golden light from the setting sun catching on your hair. The way your lips quirk up when you’re waiting for his reaction, pretending not to care but still watching closely. The flour dusted on your cheek—so casual, so you, so…so his.

That thought lingers. Threads itself into something deeper, something he can’t quite name. His stomach flips—not from the food. Ranpo narrows his eyes at you. “Wait a second.” You glance up mid-bite, blinking. “What?”

He leans forward, elbows on the counter, scrutinizing you like a puzzle he should have solved ages ago. “You like me.” You choke. “Excuse me?”

He grins, delighted, pointing at you. “You like me. That’s why you bake for me, right? You want me to fall for you, huh?” You sputter, face turning red. “I bake for you because you’d starve otherwise, you idiot—”

“Ah-ha! So you do care.” He waggles his finger. “Caught you~” You groan, covering your face. “I hate you.”

“Nooo, you love me.” You throw a dish towel at him. “Eat your damn pastries, Ranpo.” He laughs, victorious, popping one into his mouth. But as he chews, he frowns slightly, staring at you again.

That weird flip in his stomach hasn’t gone away.

…That’s annoying.

Because now, he’s thinking about things he’s never really thought about before. Like what it would be like to come home to this every day—not just the food, but you. What it would be like to reach for your hand without thinking. What it would be like if you smiled at him the way you smile at those cheesy romance novels you swear you don’t read.

His heart does something stupid.

…Hah. That’s really annoying. He scowls at his pastry. And then, after a pause—

“…Hey.”

You sigh dramatically. “What now?”

He leans his chin on his hand, watching you with sharp green eyes, his smile softer than usual.

“Make these for me again tomorrow?”

You stare at him for a second—like you’re trying to figure out if he’s being serious. Then, finally, you roll your eyes, turning away—but not before he catches the way your lips twitch like you’re trying not to smile.

“…Yeah, yeah.”

Ranpo hums, taking another bite, letting the thought settle.

Yeah.

He could get used to this.

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙

Dazai has never believed in permanence.

People leave. Promises break. Love fades like the last embers of a cigarette, nothing but smoke curling through empty air. He has always been fine with that—really, he has. Love was just another game, another meaningless indulgence he could slip in and out of as easily as a well-rehearsed lie. Something to entertain him for a while before the inevitable end.

And yet—yet you have always remained.

Not in the way most people do, orbiting in and out of his life like flickering streetlights, here one moment and gone the next. No, you are constant. Unwavering in ways that make his skin itch, in ways he refuses to acknowledge for too long because that would mean something, and Dazai is not the kind of man who wants things that last. But now—now he’s watching you fold his laundry.

And it hits him like a gunshot to the ribs.

-

He met you when he was fifteen.

It was an accident—one of those strange moments where the universe places someone in your path with no warning, no reason, and no way to take it back.

Odasaku had been the one to bring you around, mentioning something about a stray kid who needed a place to stay for a while. Soft-hearted bastard, Dazai had thought at the time, amused but uninterested. People like that didn’t last in the Port Mafia.

But then—then you had looked at him.

Not with fear, not with calculation, not even with admiration. Just a glance, assessing, steady, like you could see through the sharp edges he had carefully built around himself. Like you saw something else in him.

And for the first time in his life, Dazai felt like he had no idea what someone was thinking.

He should have left it at that—should have let you remain just another passing figure in the endless cycle of faces that blurred together in his memory.

But you stayed.

Even when he was cruel, even when he was impossible, even when he threw words like knives just to see if you would flinch—you stayed.

“You don’t belong here,” he had told you once, fingers curling around the rim of his glass, voice edged with something he wouldn’t name.

“And you do?” you had shot back, unimpressed. The corner of his lips had twitched.

Maybe that’s when it started.

-

Now?

Now you sit cross-legged on the floor, sleeves pushed up, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt before folding it into a neat little square. It’s such a simple thing. Something insignificant. And yet—something about it makes his breath catch.

He’s used to people taking care of him, but not like this. Not in a way that is so casual, so thoughtless, like you don’t even realize you’re doing it. Like it’s just natural to you. You glance up, noticing his stare.

“What?”

He leans against the doorframe, smirking, hiding the way his fingers twitch at his sides. “Oh, nothing~ Just admiring how adorable you look playing house.”

You roll your eyes, tossing a balled-up sock at him. “Brat.”

He catches it effortlessly, laughing, but the sound is hollow in his ears. Because suddenly, something in him is unraveling. There’s a shift—a slow, creeping realization curling around his ribs, tightening, constricting. It’s not just the laundry. It’s not just the way you move around his apartment like you belong there.

It’s everything.

The way you remember exactly how he takes his coffee. The way you always have a spare bandage in your bag, just in case. The way you let him be himself—not Dazai, the detective, not Dazai, the former mafia executive, not Dazai, the man with too many ghosts clawing at his skin—but just Dazai. The way you never ask for more than he’s willing to give, yet somehow, he wants to give you everything.

That thought is terrifying. Because permanence is not something he has ever wanted. And yet—yet the idea of you not being here, not sitting in his space, not filling the quiet gaps of his life with something warm, something unbearably real—

That is worse. Far worse. He swallows, the weight of it sitting heavy in his chest, sinking into his bones. This isn’t a game. This isn’t something he can slip out of when it becomes inconvenient. This is something he wants. And for the first time in his life, Dazai doesn’t know what to do with that.

You glance up again, catching the shift in his expression, and your brow furrows slightly. “What’s wrong?” The words are there. Sitting on his tongue, thick and aching.

Stay.

Don’t leave.

I think I—

But instead, he flashes a grin, effortlessly slipping back into the role he knows best. “If I say you, will you kiss me?” You scoff. “In your dreams.” He pouts dramatically, but it’s just for show.

Because the truth is—

He will dream of you tonight.

And for the first time, he doesn’t think he’ll mind.

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙

[aventurineswife]

The little chimeras in the new Amphoreus update are so cute!! How about Reader holding one of those little guys up to Dan Heng and Trailblazer (either Stelle or Caelus, or both if you want!) with puppy eyes and asking if they can keep it? (Even when the crew already has to take care of Trash Cake and a Tuskpir, lol.)

Too Cute to Say No

Summary: While exploring Amphoreus, you stumble upon an adorable chimera and bring it aboard the Astral Express, pleading to Dan Heng, Stelle, and Caelus to let you keep it—despite the chaos caused by their current pets, Trash Cake and the Tuskpir. With puppy eyes and persuasive charm, you convince the crew to adopt yet another cute companion, leading to a mix of exasperation, reluctant acceptance, and heartwarming moments.

Tags: Fluff, Found Family, Humor, Dan Heng being soft.

The Astral Express hummed gently as it drifted through the galaxy, its crew already accustomed to the rhythmic motion. Yet, something different stirred in the air today. The corridors buzzed with excitement as the crew discovered something new and adorable on Amphoreus.

"OMG, this is like, the cutest thing I've ever seen!" you exclaimed, holding up one of the little chimera to the team. The tiny creature’s big, bright eyes and fluffy fur made it impossible not to fall in love instantly. It let out a little chirp and waved its tiny wings excitedly, causing the air around you to feel lighter.

Dan Heng, as usual, was lost in his quiet contemplation, but when he saw you holding the chimera, his gaze shifted ever so slightly. His gaze softened just a fraction, a silent acknowledgment of your request. Still, he was a man of few words, and it was clear he was waiting for something more substantial.

Caelus, perched casually by the window, tilted his head as he observed the creature. His expression was calm, but his eyes shone with curiosity. "Wait, are we actually going down this road? Another pet?" His tone was teasing but affectionate, almost like he was entertained by the idea. "Isn't that Trash Cake enough? Or that beast (pig) you guys call a Tuskpir?"

You flashed them both an irresistible look. "But this one is so cute, you don't even understand! Just look at it!" Your puppy eyes, combined with the chimera’s big, round face, were an unbeatable combination. "It’s tiny, it’s adorable, and it won’t eat through the food supplies like Trash Cake! Please?"

Stelle leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips as she observed the scene unfolding before her. “Bruh, we already have two pets and a million problems to deal with, but this thing? It’s literally begging for attention. Can’t say no to that,” she said, rolling her eyes. "Look at those eyes—it's lowkey pulling my heartstrings. Ugh, I’m not even gonna lie, I might actually be weak for this."

Dan Heng sighed lightly, running a hand through his hair, as if deep in thought. "We already have enough chaos to handle with Trash Cake and the Tuskpir," he murmured, voice smooth but tinged with concern. "But it is cute..." His reluctance was almost palpable, but his soft spot for the chimera's innocent face seemed to be winning.

Caelus grinned, looking between you and the tiny creature. “Y’know what? I’ll admit, that thing’s got vibes,” he said, his voice filled with mock exasperation but clearly amused. “Alright, alright. But if it ends up eating our entire stash of snacks like the other ones did, I’m blaming you.”

Stelle clicked her tongue, not one to be left out of the fun. “I swear, if this thing starts any drama like the others, I’m out. But, fine. You win. It’s too cute to resist."

With the approval from Caelus and Stelle, you smiled brightly, holding the chimera even higher. "Yes!! Thank you!" you cheered, pressing the little creature gently into their hands. The chimera let out a happy chirp, seemingly content in the attention it was receiving.

Dan Heng, though, was quieter than the others. His expression unreadable, he gently stroked the little creature’s soft fur, the chimera chirping in delight. “... I’ll take care of it,” he said in his usual calm tone, though there was a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips, something rare, something only visible to those who truly paid attention.

"Looks like we’re a full-fledged zoo now," Caelus muttered under his breath, but it was clear there was no real complaint in his voice.

Stelle, rolling her eyes (once again). “Next thing we know, we’ll have a whole army of these things running around.”

But for now, with the chimera safely nestled in your arms and the crew looking on in amused resignation, it was clear: The Astral Express was about to get a little more adorable.

[bluewoolf]

(I hope it’s okay to send non-questions here, this is just an appreciation ramble :3)

The disability rep in CHNT is so deeply meaningful to me (and others I know), I can’t even put into words how impactful it’s been to feel so seen by a work of media,,

I’ve got too many tangled up thoughts to verbalize properly, many of which get kinda heavy due to the nature of the subject, but that’s… maybe why Sydney’s portrayal is so dear to me, I think? Seeing chronic illness/ disability portrayed in a way that’s raw and authentic, not sugar-coated or diminished by the narrative, and so so SO deeply relatable was groundbreaking to me when I first started listening years ago… it still gets me emotional even now! It’s written so powerfully.

Thank you for that, from me and soooo many others. (Sincerely, a trans & autistic fellow with fibro/ chronic pain & illness, bpd/psychosis, aaaand a food intake disorder. This series really hit home 😅)

Being physically disabled is not fun. It's pitiful and it's frustrating and it's painful and it always aches a little bit in the heart. You constantly have to grieve yourself and what could have been.

I have gripes with the trend of physical disability in media, which is to ignore it beyond a quirky trait. I can understand the sentiment of only wanting to see marginalized characters happy, but physical disability is something which makes your life harder by definition. If you don't allow your disabled characters to face any practical, interpersonal, or emotional struggles from it.. then you're just not writing disability, you're writing tokenism. 

Even if you had all of your needs met by others, not being able to do basic care tasks of the self that 90% of the population can do without significant aid is humiliating and terrifying, and no matter how much society as a whole improves to accommodate disabled people... this reality will not change. To be so beholden to other people and unable to express autonomy is a lot to contend and self actualize.

I appreciate the love for him. It's great that the exploration gets people thinking about it or resonating with the concepts.

[oh-phoenixx]

"Price" - Jegulus (sort of Black Brothers too) microfic @into-the-jeggyverse - 592 words

-

Regulus wanted nothing more than to be alone, far, far away from here. Instead, he was in the Potters’ garden, and the kitchen door slid open to reveal James, who insisted upon bothering Regulus whenever he wanted a moment’s peace. Holding two mugs in his hands, James sat beside Regulus on the steps and held one out to him.

“What is it?” Regulus asked, looking at the mug.

“Earl grey, I know how you take it,” James replied. Regulus took the mug, which was still hot, and brought it to his mouth as James watched him with an indecipherable expression. “Why are you here, Reg?”

“Because it’s too quiet in the house.”

“No, why are you here? Why did you show up at my house?” James clarified.

“To be with Sirius,” Regulus replied in an instant.

James seemed to consider this, furrowing his eyebrows and finally looking away. Briefly, their legs brushed, and Regulus flinched away as though he had been burned, making James frown.

“You didn’t leave to get away from your parents?” James asked.

“No. Well, sort of. But I think I would have stayed if Sirius had, or if Sirius wasn’t a factor,” Regulus said. “I don’t…I don’t agree with their views. But they’re my parents, at the end of the day. I’ll always love them. I’ll always want to make them proud.”

It was easier to confide all of this in James, facing forward in the dark, though Regulus found himself regretting saying so much once he thought it over and James didn’t say anything in response. But he had started talking, and he found that he couldn’t stop himself from attempting to explain further. He just wanted to be understood.

“That’s always been the price of Sirius’s love. Changing yourself,” Regulus mumbled. “He wishes I was in Gryffindor, he would find it easier to love me if I was.”

“That’s not true,” James said defensively.

“Yes, it is. Do you really think he’d like you if you were in Slytherin?” Regulus scoffed, then thought about it and frowned. “Though, I suppose he’s made exceptions. Dorcas, for example. He likes her. But me? No, no, he can’t make an exception for his own brother. Only when I ruin my entire life to be here with him.”

Regulus knew that James didn’t want to hear these things about his best friend, that it was far easier to pretend that Sirius wanted Regulus here for his safety and for no other reason, nothing selfish or prejudiced. But it had been so long since Regulus had truly felt he could be himself around Sirius. He wondered if it made Sirius sad, too, that Regulus could trust many people, and none of them were his own brother.

“I can’t hate him, even if I try. And I’ve tried,” Regulus continued angrily, though quietly. “Sirius has to try to love me. He has to put effort into it.”

James frowned and turned so his whole body was facing Regulus. “Reg, he loves you more than anyone else in the world. Even when he’s angry with you, he can’t help telling us how much he loves you.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but said nothing more for fear of being too vulnerable. He didn’t really think it mattered, though, not with everything he had already confessed. Looking to James, the older boy did not seem to be waiting for a response, just drinking his tea and looking out at the garden.

“Thank you,” Regulus whispered.

“For what?”

“For letting me…talk, I guess.”

“Anytime, Reg.”

[blondemrk]

the threads of us

in every universe, through every lifetime, their souls are bound by an invisible thread, drawing them back together no matter the time or place.

(renjun x fem!reader ) ─── genre ⸝⸝ fluff / soulmate au ♫

word count. 7.3k ⋆.˚ library  !

— universe one .ᐟ

the city always feels a little different in the rain. the usual hustle and bustle of people rushing from place to place slows down, softened by the steady patter of raindrops against the pavement. the streets shine, reflecting the neon glow of the nearby shops. it’s one of those days when everything feels peaceful, almost dreamlike, as though the world is in a quiet lull.

y/n is huddled under her umbrella, her pace brisk as she walks down the crowded sidewalk. her mind is elsewhere, lost in thoughts of work, plans, and the weight of the week ahead. the umbrella begins to wobble in her hand, the wind picking up in sudden bursts. before she can react, a gust blows it inside out. y/n lets out a frustrated sigh, trying to flip the umbrella back to its normal shape.

“careful,” a voice says, warm and familiar, though she can’t place it.

she looks up, startled, and her breath catches in her throat. standing in front of her is a guy about her age, his features soft but striking. his dark hair is tousled from the rain, and his eyes, bright and kind, shine with an almost mischievous glint. he’s wearing a navy jacket, the hood pulled low over his head, but his smile is wide and comforting.

“let me help you with that,” he offers, reaching out and steadying the umbrella with his hand.

y/n blinks, slightly flustered. “oh, um, thank you.”

he laughs softly, a sound that seems to warm the air between them. “no problem. i’ve got a thing for broken umbrellas.”

her chest tightens, though she’s not sure why. there’s something about him, something about the way his eyes look at her, like they’ve shared a million moments even though this is the first time they’ve met. she shakes the thought away, smiling awkwardly.

“i’m renjun,” he says, his voice light and easy. he steps a little closer to her, adjusting the umbrella so it shields them both. “do you need help getting somewhere?”

for a moment, y/n feels an inexplicable sense of comfort from his presence. it’s like they’re already familiar, even though they’ve never spoken before. maybe it’s the way his smile makes her feel like everything is going to be okay, even on a rainy day.

“i… uh, i’m just heading to a café,” she says, her voice uncertain. “it’s not far.”

renjun nods and grins. “great, i know the place. i’ll walk you there.”

they walk side by side through the rain-soaked streets, the sound of their footsteps blending with the rhythm of the city. the world feels quieter with him, even though they’re surrounded by people. their conversation flows easily, casual at first—talking about the weather, their favorite spots in the city, and their mutual love for coffee. but as the conversation deepens, it’s impossible to ignore the pull between them, like there’s an invisible thread tying them together.

“are you new here?” y/n asks, glancing at him curiously.

he laughs, a soft, melodic sound that makes her smile. “kind of. i just moved back to the city a few months ago. i’ve been wandering around trying to find the best cafés. guess i found a good one today.”

y/n laughs, her gaze drifting to the café they’re approaching. “i know a great spot just down the block, if you’re ever in the mood to try somewhere new.”

he looks at her with a knowing expression. “i’ll keep that in mind.” then, more softly, as if he’s just realized something, he adds, “you seem different.”

y/n frowns slightly, not sure how to respond. “different? how?”

“like… i don’t know,” he says with a small shrug, his tone uncertain. “like i’ve met you before.”

the words hang in the air between them, and y/n feels an odd tightening in her chest. she turns away quickly, feeling her cheeks flush. there’s no way he could have met her before, right?

“maybe you just have one of those faces,” she jokes, but even as the words leave her mouth, they don’t feel right.

renjun grins again, but his smile is softer this time, more contemplative. “yeah, maybe.”

they reach the café, and renjun holds the door open for her, stepping aside with a flourish. “after you.”

y/n steps inside, the warmth of the café enveloping her. the rain outside continues its steady rhythm, but here, in this little haven, the world seems different—softer, quieter, as if time slows just for a moment.

as they sit down at a table near the window, sipping their drinks, y/n can’t shake the feeling that something significant is happening, something she can’t quite put into words. there’s a familiarity to the way they speak, to the way they laugh, to the way he looks at her. it’s all so natural, as if they’ve known each other far longer than a few minutes.

“i’m glad i ran into you today,” she says softly, her voice almost a whisper, as though speaking too loudly might break the magic of the moment.

renjun looks at her, his gaze intense yet gentle. “me too. maybe i’ll see you again.”

the words feel like a promise, and y/n can’t help but believe them. she smiles, but it’s bittersweet, like she knows this moment won’t last forever, even though she wants it to.

when they part ways outside the café, renjun waves goodbye, his figure disappearing into the rain. y/n watches him go, feeling an overwhelming sense of loss, as if something is slipping away. she turns, heading back to her apartment, but that feeling doesn’t leave her—it follows her, lingers in her chest, gnawing at her.

— universe two .ᐟ

the kingdom of thalrith is a land of vast forests, ancient ruins, and sprawling castles. its people are proud, resilient, and deeply connected to the magic that flows through the land. but in recent years, that magic has started to fade, and the kingdom has found itself on the brink of war. y/n is a knight-in-training, one of the last few defenders of the kingdom. she’s young, determined, and always eager to prove herself, though the weight of the world seems to press against her shoulders with every passing day.

it’s late afternoon, the sky painted in soft hues of pink and orange as the sun begins to set. the forest is quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves as y/n checks her gear for the journey ahead. she’s been tasked with a dangerous mission: to retrieve an ancient artifact from the ruins deep in the forest, one said to hold the power to restore the kingdom’s magic. the mission is perilous, and y/n knows she can’t afford to fail.

she adjusts the straps on her leather armor, her thoughts focused on the task ahead, when a soft melody drifts through the air, catching her attention. she freezes for a moment, wondering if the sound is just the wind. but as she listens more closely, she realizes it’s the faint strumming of a lute.

curious, she follows the sound through the trees until she finds him—a young bard, sitting on a stone outcrop with his back against a moss-covered pillar. his fingers move deftly over the strings of his lute, producing a song that feels almost… familiar. the melody tugs at something inside her, something she can’t explain.

the bard looks up as y/n approaches, his eyes sparkling with amusement. there’s something about his smile—warm, inviting, as if they’ve known each other for years. his appearance is striking, with wild, dark hair and an effortless, carefree air about him. he’s wearing simple clothing, a tunic and trousers, nothing like the heavy armor she’s wearing. but the way he holds himself is different from the others—he’s calm, confident in a way that makes her feel strangely at ease.

“ah, a knight-in-training,” he says with a playful grin. his voice is soft, almost musical, and it seems to blend with the quiet rustling of the forest. “are you lost, or are you here for a bit of entertainment?”

y/n frowns, a little startled by how comfortable he seems in this strange, dangerous place. she’s used to being on her own, to the weight of her responsibilities, but something about this moment feels… different. almost as if she’s been here before.

“i’m on a mission,” y/n replies, her voice steady, though there’s a hint of hesitation. “i need to find something in the ruins.”

the bard raises an eyebrow, his smile never fading. “a mission, you say? sounds like you could use some company.”

y/n opens her mouth to refuse, but something in his gaze stops her. there’s a pull between them, something deep and unspoken. it’s not just the song—there’s something about him that feels… destined, as if their paths were always meant to cross.

“how do you know i’m not just trying to get some peace and quiet?” she asks, unable to hide the curiosity in her voice.

“because,” he says, standing and strumming a few more chords, “i’ve heard that the true path to success always comes with a bit of… unexpected help.”

y/n watches him closely. he’s not like the others—he doesn’t look like someone trying to prove something. there’s no agenda behind his words, no pretense. just a gentle, unwavering presence.

“i’m renjun,” he adds, offering her a soft, almost knowing smile. “and i think the forest would be much more pleasant if we traveled together, don’t you?”

for a moment, y/n hesitates, unsure of whether to trust him. this is a dangerous journey, and she’s been trained to trust only herself. but something about him—his warmth, his calmness—makes her wonder if perhaps this is a sign that she doesn’t have to shoulder everything alone.

“fine,” she says, her voice quiet, as if the decision has already been made for her. “but we’ll need to move quickly.”

renjun’s smile widens. “lead the way.”

they journey deeper into the forest together, the trees growing thicker, the air growing cooler as night begins to fall. the melody from his lute continues to echo in the distance, a soothing sound that contrasts with the ominous feeling in the air. despite the tension of the mission, y/n finds herself growing more and more comfortable with his presence. it’s easy to talk to him, to laugh at his jokes, to share stories of their respective lives. with him, the world feels just a little less heavy.

as they reach the ruins, a sense of foreboding settles over them. the structure is ancient, crumbling, with vines creeping over the stone like a living thing. the air around the ruins is thick with magic—wild, untamed magic that seems to pulse with life. y/n steps forward cautiously, feeling the weight of the artifact’s power drawing her in.

but before she can take another step, renjun’s voice calls out to her. “you know,” he says softly, “you don’t have to do this alone. not everything has to be a fight.”

y/n pauses, turning to look at him. his gaze is soft, filled with understanding, and for the first time in a long while, y/n feels a sense of peace. the mission still feels important—critical, even—but somehow, with him by her side, it doesn’t feel so daunting.

she takes a deep breath and smiles. “maybe you’re right.”

together, they step into the ruins, the weight of the world forgotten for just a moment. the connection between them is undeniable, like the magic of the land itself is guiding them forward. and though they’ve only just met, y/n can’t shake the feeling that they’ve been here before—together, in this same place, at this same time.

the mission may be dangerous, but for the first time, y/n doesn’t feel alone. and that, she realizes, is the greatest gift of all.

— universe three .ᐟ

the school bell rings, signaling the end of another long day, and y/n can feel the weight of the day pressing against her shoulders. she quickly gathers her things, slipping her books into her bag with a practiced hand. high school has been a whirlwind—studying, grades, the constant pressure to fit in—and as much as she’s tried to get used to it, she feels like an outsider more often than not.

she’s been a part of the drama club for a while now, but something’s always felt missing. the people, the performances, the pressure—it’s all so… fleeting. even though she loves acting, something inside her always feels like she’s pretending to be someone she’s not.

as y/n walks toward the drama club room, she hears the familiar sound of laughter and chatter spilling from the doorway. the club is getting ready for the next big performance, and the tension in the air is palpable. she’s almost there when someone stops her.

“hey!” a voice calls out.

y/n turns to see a familiar face: renjun, one of the stars of the drama club. he’s standing by the lockers, his usual bright smile lighting up his features. he’s always been charming, effortlessly so, with his easy-going nature and the way people gravitate toward him. he’s popular in a way y/n has never quite been—friendly, approachable, and always in the center of everything.

“hey,” she replies, her voice a little quieter than usual. “what’s up?”

renjun’s smile widens, and he takes a step toward her. “i was just about to head into the club room. you coming in, or are you going to hide behind your books again?”

y/n rolls her eyes playfully, but her stomach flips at the mention of the club. she’s not as involved as she could be—she likes being backstage, observing, but the idea of being in the spotlight has always made her uncomfortable. renjun, on the other hand, thrives in it, and she’s always admired that about him.

“i don’t know,” y/n says, glancing at the club room door. “i’ve just been… busy. a lot of things going on.”

renjun raises an eyebrow, sensing the hesitation in her voice. “you’re not getting cold feet, are you? you’ve been in drama club longer than most people. we’re all waiting on you to take a bigger role.”

y/n feels her cheeks heat up, though she can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or something else. renjun’s words have a way of getting under her skin, making her both nervous and excited at the same time.

“yeah, well, i’m not sure if the spotlight’s for me,” she admits, her gaze drifting down to her shoes.

renjun’s expression softens, and he steps a little closer, his voice quieter this time. “you don’t always have to be the center of attention to make a difference. you know that, right?”

y/n meets his gaze, startled by the sincerity in his eyes. there’s something about his presence that makes her feel seen, in a way that she doesn’t often experience. it’s like he’s always paying attention, always noticing the little things about people—things that others might overlook.

he shrugs, as if to ease the tension between them. “but, if you ever do want to take the stage, i’ll be right there to support you.”

there’s something comforting about his words, a sense of safety and reassurance that y/n hadn’t expected. it’s easy to get lost in the noise of high school, to feel like she’s blending into the background. but with renjun, there’s a strange pull—a feeling that she’s meant to be seen, to be understood, just as she is.

y/n hesitates for a moment longer before offering a small smile. “maybe i’ll give it a shot.”

renjun grins, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “that’s the spirit!”

they walk into the drama club room together, the chatter of the other members fading into the background as y/n feels the weight of the moment settle into her chest. renjun guides her to the center of the room, where the group is gathered around, discussing lines and stage direction. his presence beside her makes her feel grounded, as if she’s not facing this world alone, no matter how intimidating it seems.

as they rehearse for the upcoming play, y/n starts to realize something she hadn’t quite put into words before: she’s not just here for the performance. she’s here because of him—because renjun makes everything feel more real, more meaningful. every time he smiles at her, every time he says something that makes her feel like she matters, she can’t help but feel a deeper connection to him.

they spend the rest of the afternoon rehearsing, and renjun doesn’t let her hide in the background. he gently encourages her, nudges her when she hesitates, and always makes sure she’s part of the action. by the end of the rehearsal, y/n feels a sense of accomplishment she wasn’t expecting. it’s not just the lines she’s learned or the character she’s brought to life—it’s the bond she’s beginning to form with him, a bond that feels like something she can’t ignore.

later that evening, as y/n is packing up to leave, she finds renjun waiting by the door, leaning casually against the frame with a playful smile.

“you did great today,” he says, his tone easy and warm. “see? i told you that you had it in you.”

y/n blushes, her heart fluttering at the compliment. “thanks. i didn’t expect to have so much fun.”

he gives her a soft, knowing smile. “you never know until you try. and next time, we’re going to make sure you have even more fun.”

as she heads out of the club room, she feels a little lighter than she did when she first arrived, as if the world isn’t quite as heavy as she thought it was. the connection between her and renjun has started to deepen, and though it’s still new, she can’t shake the feeling that this—this chemistry—is something real.

for the first time in a long while, y/n feels like she might just belong.

— universe four .ᐟ

y/n is sitting in a quiet café, sipping her coffee, as she scrolls through her phone. it’s a regular sunday afternoon, the perfect time to unwind and relax. the café is warm, cozy, and bustling with the hum of quiet conversations and clinking mugs. she loves the atmosphere here—everything about it feels like an escape from the chaos of life. the soft jazz music playing in the background, the smell of freshly brewed coffee, and the soft murmur of patrons all add to the sense of calm that fills the space.

today, however, she’s feeling a little more restless than usual. she’s been putting in long hours at work, and her mind feels foggy, overwhelmed by the constant pressure. there’s a part of her that just wants to forget about it all, but the weight of her responsibilities keeps pulling her back. she exhales slowly, rubbing her temples in an attempt to ease the tension.

she’s lost in thought when the sound of a chair scraping across the floor interrupts her. looking up, y/n is startled to see a man standing in front of her, his hand resting on the back of the empty chair next to hers.

“i’m sorry, is this seat taken?” he asks, his voice smooth, calm, and surprisingly familiar.

y/n blinks a few times, unsure of why his face seems so familiar. he’s tall, with dark hair and bright eyes that seem to sparkle with mischief. his smile is easy, almost contagious, and it sends an unexpected rush of warmth through her. but there’s something else about him—something that feels like a pull, as if she’s been waiting for this moment, even if she didn’t realize it.

“no, it’s free,” y/n replies, offering a polite smile and gesturing to the chair. “i’m just here for some peace and quiet.”

the man sits down with a soft chuckle, clearly at ease in the quiet atmosphere. “i can relate. sometimes, all you need is a little break from the world, right?”

y/n nods, relieved that he’s not trying to start a lengthy conversation. she’s not in the mood for small talk, but there’s something about his presence that doesn’t feel intrusive—more like a gentle comfort.

“i get it,” y/n replies. “it’s hard to find time for yourself these days.”

the man glances at her over the rim of his coffee cup, and for a moment, their eyes meet. there’s a spark there, an unspoken understanding that neither of them says out loud. it’s like they’re both on the same wavelength, even though they don’t know each other.

“i’m renjun,” he says, breaking the silence, his voice casual yet sincere.

y/n smiles, a little shy. “i’m y/n.”

“nice to meet you, y/n.” he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “you come here often?”

y/n nods. “yeah, i do. it’s one of my favorite spots. quiet. comfortable.”

renjun grins, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “well, if you come here often, i guess i’ll be seeing you around. i come here a lot too. it’s kind of my escape from... everything else.”

there’s a playful energy in his voice, but it doesn’t come off as forced. in fact, it feels genuine, like he’s not trying to impress her—just trying to make her feel comfortable in this little moment.

“i’m sure i’ll be back,” y/n says, taking another sip of her coffee. she can feel the tension in her shoulders ease just a little. the conversation is simple, yet something about it feels right. like she’s found a moment of peace in the chaos of life.

for the next few minutes, the conversation drifts between light topics—how they both enjoy coffee, their favorite places to relax, the latest books they’ve read. there’s no pressure, no heavy topics weighing them down. but as the conversation continues, y/n starts to notice something—there’s an undeniable pull between them. it’s not just the fact that they’re having a pleasant conversation; it’s the way they connect, how their words flow effortlessly, as if they’ve known each other for years.

renjun seems to notice it too. he leans in a little, his eyes twinkling. “you know, i don’t usually talk to strangers like this,” he says, his tone teasing but also genuine. “but something about you makes it easy.”

y/n feels her heart skip a beat, and for a moment, she’s unsure of how to respond. it’s not often that someone makes her feel so at ease, especially with how closed off she’s been recently. but with him, it feels like the world outside the café doesn’t matter. it’s just the two of them, sharing this quiet moment.

“i feel the same,” she admits, her voice soft but steady. “i don’t usually talk to people like this either.”

renjun’s smile softens, and there’s a quiet understanding between them. it’s as if they’ve both found something in each other, something unspoken but deeply felt. a connection that goes beyond just this moment, beyond the words they’ve exchanged.

as the conversation continues, y/n realizes that, for the first time in a long while, she doesn’t feel like she’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. with renjun, it’s like she can just be herself, without any expectations or pressures. it’s simple, comfortable, and more than she ever imagined she’d find in a chance encounter at a café.

when it’s time for y/n to leave, she feels a sense of reluctance. the connection between them is still new, but it’s already starting to feel like something real.

“thanks for the company,” she says as she stands up, her hand resting on the back of her chair.

renjun stands up too, his smile warm and sincere. “it was really nice meeting you, y/n. i’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”

“i’m sure of it,” y/n replies, her heart fluttering in a way she doesn’t quite understand.

as she walks out of the café, she can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted. maybe it’s just the coffee, or maybe it’s just the conversation—but somehow, she feels lighter, more hopeful. like this was the beginning of something worth waiting for.

— universe five .ᐟ

y/n has always loved art galleries—the quiet hum of whispered conversations, the scent of oil paints lingering in the air, and the way time slows down when she stands in front of a beautiful painting. tonight, the gallery is hosting a special event, showcasing the works of an up-and-coming artist. she isn't sure why she decided to come alone, but something about the invitation had pulled at her.

the moment she steps inside, she’s enveloped by the soft glow of warm lights illuminating the paintings. people move around her, murmuring about brushstrokes and color palettes, but her focus shifts as she catches sight of a single painting across the room.

it’s a portrait—of a girl standing under a cherry blossom tree, her eyes gazing into the distance. there’s something hauntingly familiar about it, as if she’s seen this moment before. the way the girl’s hair flows in the wind, the tilt of her chin—it feels like looking into a mirror of a memory she doesn’t fully recall.

“that one’s my favorite,” a voice says beside her.

y/n turns her head and meets the eyes of a young man with paint-stained fingers and a quiet, knowing smile. his gaze flickers between her and the painting, something unreadable in his expression. he’s handsome—effortlessly so—but what catches her off guard is the strange sense of familiarity settling in her chest.

“did you paint this?” she asks, her voice quieter than she intended.

he nods. “yeah. it’s part of my collection.” his lips curve into a small smile. “i call it familiar strangers.”

something inside her stirs. “why?”

he hesitates, studying her face carefully before speaking. “i don’t know. it’s like i’ve been trying to paint someone i’ve never met before, but i know her. like i’ve seen her in my dreams, in the faces of passing strangers.” he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

y/n’s heart pounds in her chest. “no,” she whispers, her gaze returning to the painting.

for some reason, she can’t look away. the longer she stares, the more a strange sense of déjà vu washes over her. as if she has been in this exact moment before, in another time, another life. the brushstrokes, the colors, the way the girl in the painting seems to be waiting for something—it all feels like a message from the past.

or maybe from him.

“i’m renjun,” he says, his voice breaking through the spellbinding moment.

y/n turns back to him. “y/n.”

his eyes light up, as if the name fits perfectly into a missing space he’s been trying to fill. he nods, like it makes sense. like everything makes sense.

for a moment, neither of them speak. they simply stand there, in the middle of a crowded gallery, staring at a painting that seems to hold all the words they don’t know how to say.

and somewhere deep inside, where logic and reason don’t quite reach, y/n knows—this isn’t the first time they’ve met.

— universe six .ᐟ

soft notes drift through the air, weaving an invisible thread of emotion through the dimly lit concert hall. y/n sits in the audience, her fingers gripping the edges of her coat as she listens to the music that fills the space. the grand piano at the center of the stage gleams under the spotlight, and at the keys sits a young man, his fingers gliding effortlessly across the ivory, painting a story without words.

there is something achingly familiar about the melody.

it isn’t just beautiful—it feels like a memory she can’t quite grasp, like the ghost of a song she’s heard in a dream. the music swells, then softens, and a shiver runs down her spine. it tugs at something deep inside her, something unnamed, something known.

she watches the pianist’s expression as he plays. his dark eyes are closed, his lips pressed together in quiet concentration. he looks completely lost in the music, as if he’s searching for something in the melody, trying to reach out through the notes.

as the final chord lingers in the air, the audience erupts in applause. y/n claps along, but her heart is racing, her mind spinning. she has to know.

after the performance, the hall buzzes with murmured conversations as guests slowly make their way out. y/n hesitates before slipping backstage, following the faint sound of a piano being played once more—softer this time, more hesitant.

she steps into the practice room and finds him there, seated at the piano, absently pressing down on a few keys. up close, he looks even more familiar.

“you played beautifully,” she says before she can stop herself.

he looks up, startled. then he smiles—soft, almost hesitant. “thank you.”

for a moment, there’s silence. then, he tilts his head slightly. “do i know you?”

y/n’s breath catches in her throat.

because that’s exactly what she was about to ask him.

she swallows, shaking her head lightly, but she knows the truth in her bones.

“no,” she says softly. “but it feels like we’ve met before.”

the pianist watches her for a moment, his fingers idly pressing down on the keys. the melody he plays is the same one from the concert—but slower, gentler. like an echo of something lost and found again.

he exhales a quiet chuckle. “strange.”

she takes a step closer, drawn in by the invisible thread between them. “why?”

his fingers pause on the piano. “because this song… i don’t know why, but every time i play it, i feel like i’m looking for someone.” his gaze meets hers, and it’s filled with something she doesn’t quite understand—but she feels it. deeply.

he lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. “maybe i’ve been playing it for you all along.”

y/n’s heart stutters in her chest.

because suddenly, the melody doesn’t just sound familiar anymore.

it feels like home.

— universe seven .ᐟ

the observatory is quiet at this hour, save for the occasional beeping of computers and the soft rustle of paper as y/n flips through her notes. above her, the massive glass dome stretches toward the sky, revealing a universe full of stars.

she’s always loved the night sky—its vastness, its mystery, the way it makes her feel both small and infinite at the same time. but tonight, there’s something different in the air. a strange anticipation hums in her veins, though she can’t quite explain why.

“still here?” a familiar voice says from the doorway.

y/n turns, already knowing who it is.

zhong renjun leans against the doorframe, hands tucked into the pockets of his lab coat, a smirk playing at his lips. he looks effortlessly at ease, like he belongs here among the stars. like he was meant to stand beside her in this moment.

“you’re still here too,” she points out, raising a brow.

he chuckles, stepping inside. “couldn’t sleep.”

y/n smiles knowingly. “thinking about the theory again?”

renjun hums, crossing the room to stand beside her. his gaze flickers to the telescope, then to the endless sky beyond the glass dome. “yeah. you ever wonder if the stars remember us?”

she blinks at him. “what do you mean?”

he shrugs, turning his head slightly to meet her gaze. “like… what if we’ve been here before? you and me. what if, in another life, we stood under these same stars, asking the same questions?”

a shiver runs down her spine. because that thought—it doesn’t feel impossible.

it feels true.

she doesn’t know why, but when she looks at renjun, it’s like she’s known him forever. like the universe has been pulling them toward each other across lifetimes, across galaxies.

“that’s a pretty wild theory,” she murmurs, but her heart is racing.

renjun grins. “and yet, you’re not disagreeing.”

she exhales a soft laugh, shaking her head. “maybe because it doesn’t feel so crazy.”

for a moment, silence stretches between them, filled only by the sound of the stars breathing beyond the glass. then, renjun lifts his hand, pointing toward a bright star near the horizon.

“that one,” he says. “bet we made a wish on it before.”

y/n follows his gaze, staring at the distant light. and suddenly, she can almost remember—a night just like this one, a voice whispering the same words, the same warmth standing beside her.

she swallows. “what do you think we wished for?”

renjun turns to her, eyes glinting like stardust. “to find each other again.”

y/n’s breath catches.

because somehow, she already knows—

the wish came true.

— universe eight .ᐟ

the city is alive with the scent of rain, the pavement glistening under the golden glow of streetlights. y/n tugs her coat tighter around her shoulders as she rushes down the sidewalk, dodging puddles and people with umbrellas. she hadn’t meant to stay out so late, but something had kept her lingering—maybe the way the air smelled fresh after a storm, or the way the neon lights reflected off wet streets like scattered dreams.

and then—

she sees him.

standing at the edge of the sidewalk, just beneath a flickering streetlamp, renjun is drenched. his hoodie clings to him, raindrops trailing down his face, but he doesn’t seem to care. his hands are stuffed into his pockets, and he looks lost in thought—until his gaze lifts and meets hers.

time slows.

it’s ridiculous. she doesn’t know him. and yet, everything inside her screams that she does.

for a moment, neither of them move. the rain falls between them, a curtain of silver threads weaving them together. y/n’s breath is unsteady as she steps forward, drawn by something she doesn’t understand.

he watches her, eyes searching, like he’s trying to place a memory just out of reach. then, a soft laugh escapes his lips, barely audible over the rain.

“funny,” he murmurs.

y/n tilts her head. “what is?”

renjun’s smile lingers, wistful. “i feel like i’ve been looking for you.”

her heart stutters.

and maybe she’s crazy, maybe this is reckless, but she smiles back and says—

“i think you found me.”

and in the pouring rain, in the glow of the city’s heartbeat, something clicks into place.

like they’ve been here before.

like they’ll be here again.

— universe nine .ᐟ

y/n always loved quiet places. the kind where the world seemed to fall away, and all that remained was the peaceful hum of solitude. it was why she often visited the library late at night—when the fluorescent lights were dimmed and the shelves stood like ancient sentinels, guarding knowledge and secrets in their worn bindings.

she was walking down one of the quieter aisles, her fingers trailing along the spines of books she had no intention of reading, when she noticed him.

renjun was sitting at a table in the corner, the soft glow of his lamp casting a warm halo around him. he wasn’t reading, though. he was sketching.

y/n had never been the type to be drawn to artistic expression, but there was something captivating about the way his pencil danced across the paper. his brow furrowed in concentration, his lips slightly parted as if he was lost in a world of his own. it was like the world around him had fallen away, leaving only the soft scratch of lead on paper and the flow of his thoughts.

she didn’t mean to stare, but something about him felt so familiar—like she had been here before, in this exact moment, watching him create.

when he finally noticed her, a flash of surprise flickered in his eyes before it melted into something softer. a quiet smile spread across his face, and he gestured to the chair across from him.

“do you mind if i ask you something?” his voice was low, gentle, almost as if he wasn’t sure she’d answer.

y/n hesitated before nodding. she was curious now, drawn to the quiet intensity in his eyes.

“do you believe in connections?” he asked, his gaze never leaving hers. “in meeting someone, and just knowing them without words? like you’ve met before, but in a different time, a different place?”

the question struck her like a chord played just right. she felt the familiar pull in her chest, the same pull that had led her to him in every universe.

“i think i do,” she said softly.

renjun’s eyes softened, a warmth spreading across his face. “i knew it.”

for a moment, there was only silence between them. the kind of silence that was comfortable, like two souls understanding each other without needing to say anything more.

he reached for his sketchbook, and y/n couldn’t help but lean in a little closer. she saw what he had drawn: a simple line sketch of two figures under a streetlamp, their faces obscured but their connection clear. the lines were delicate but full of emotion, as if he had captured something unspoken.

“you’re in my drawings,” he murmured, almost to himself. “you’ve always been.”

y/n’s heart skipped.

“i think… i think you’ve been in my life too,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

— universe ten .ᐟ

the scent of old books and coffee fills the air as y/n steps into the small, tucked-away bookshop. it’s the kind of place that feels like a secret, a little sanctuary for those who still loved the weight of a physical book in their hands. she always finds peace here, wandering the aisles, losing herself in stories both old and new.

today, though, there’s a difference in the air—a small, quiet hum, like the world is holding its breath.

as she turns a corner, she collides with someone.

“ah—sorry!” she says quickly, looking up at the person she’s bumped into.

it’s him.

renjun stands in front of her, a stack of books in his hands, his hair messy and his eyes wide with surprise. for a second, neither of them says anything. his gaze locks with hers, and y/n feels that same, unmistakable recognition.

“are you alright?” renjun asks softly, his voice filled with that quiet curiosity that always seems to pull her in.

y/n nods, a smile tugging at her lips. “i’m fine. i didn’t mean to—”

“no, i’m sorry,” he interrupts with a soft chuckle. “i wasn’t looking where i was going.”

he carefully sets the books down on a nearby shelf, then turns back to her. “i’m renjun,” he says, a gentle smile spreading across his face.

“i’m y/n,” she replies.

“i know,” he says, his smile widening with a knowing look. “i think i’ve known you for a while now.”

y/n blinks, confused for a moment. “what do you mean?”

“i mean,” he says, stepping closer, “i think we’ve met before. somewhere. maybe not here. but somewhere. maybe in the stories we both read. maybe in another time.”

her heart skips a beat. the way he says it—like it’s not just a passing thought, but something he’s carried with him, something he feels deeply—strikes her to the core.

“you’re right,” she whispers, barely above a breath. “it feels like we’ve been here before.”

renjun doesn’t say anything, but his gaze softens, and he steps closer again, closing the distance between them. he picks up one of the books from the shelf and hands it to her.

“it’s funny,” he says, his voice quiet but warm. “this book—i feel like i’ve read it with you. in another life. but you don’t remember, do you?”

y/n looks down at the cover. it’s a story she’s read before, and yet, it feels different in her hands now.

“i don’t,” she says softly, “but i think i want to read it with you.”

renjun’s smile deepens, and for the first time, she feels like she isn’t just part of this world—she’s part of something bigger, something that spans across time, across universes. and this time, maybe, she’ll remember.

their fingers brush as they hold the book together. and somehow, y/n knows—this is only the beginning of a story they’re meant to write together.

— universe eleven .ᐟ

the sky is painted with shades of gold and pink as the sun sets, casting a warm glow over the quiet park. y/n stands at the edge of the lake, her breath visible in the cool evening air. it’s one of those rare moments where everything seems to still, where the world is holding its breath in anticipation, and she feels… connected.

but to what?

to the land? to the water? to the stars above her?

to him.

she turns, the faintest smile tugging at her lips, as if the pull she’s always felt—an invisible thread that’s led her here—is finally tangible. there, standing beneath an ancient oak tree, is renjun.

it’s always been him.

no matter the time, the place, the universe—they have always found each other. but tonight, something about it feels different. deeper. more profound.

he steps toward her, his presence quiet and grounding, his gaze full of something she can’t quite name, but understands in every part of her being.

“i used to wonder if it was real,” he says softly, his voice a low melody that wraps around her heart. “this feeling. the one that says we’ve been here before. that somehow, no matter what life we live, we always find each other.”

y/n doesn’t answer. she doesn’t need to. the words have already been spoken between them a thousand times, in a thousand different ways. she feels the truth of it, pulsing between them, filling the space like a quiet symphony.

renjun reaches out, his hand gently brushing hers, and the moment their skin touches, the world around them seems to fade. the sound of the birds, the rustle of the leaves, the gentle lapping of the water—all of it is drowned out by the steady rhythm of their hearts beating in sync.

“i know you,” he whispers, as if the confession is both new and ancient. “in every universe, in every life. i’ve known you before the moment we met. and i will know you again.”

y/n’s breath hitches, her chest tightening with an emotion that feels too big to name. “you’re right,” she says, her voice breaking slightly. “i’ve always known you. i think i’ve always loved you, even when i didn’t remember. even when i couldn’t see it.”

for a moment, they simply stand there, hands tangled together, hearts intertwined in a way that feels timeless. the air between them is thick with something deeper than just love—it's like the very fabric of the universe itself has woven their souls together, stitching them through every existence, every reality.

“you don’t have to remember everything,” renjun murmurs, his forehead gently resting against hers. “you just have to remember this moment. right here. right now. that’s enough.”

her eyes close as she inhales deeply, the warmth of his presence filling her to the brim, the knowledge of his love surrounding her like a blanket. the world outside may shift and change, but this—this connection, this thread that binds them—remains unbroken, eternal.

“i will,” she whispers back. “i will remember. and i will keep finding you, no matter where we are.”

the wind stirs the leaves above them, and in the distance, a single star twinkles into existence, shining brightly in the twilight sky.

in this moment, there is no past, no future—only the now, and the feeling that everything is exactly as it should be.

because they’ve always been here, together. and they always will be.

the endless thread that ties them is never truly broken—it is woven through time and space, an unspoken promise, a love that never fades.

nct dream perm tags @ayukas @chenlezip @mrkified @holyhaech @bananinhazz @nanaleehyuck @tsupermax0502 @onyourmaaark @thevirginsuicidenotes @ppeachyttae @pradajaehyun @chenlesfeetpic @nctrawberries

[adieutristana]

of course! thank you for requesting <3

so i lost this request but did get a screenshot. anyways never tone it down! being sassy is not a bad thing!

summary; headcanons of arcane women with a sassy girlfriend.

characters included; jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn, lest.

tags/warnings; fluff, maybe some crack?, possibly suggestive in some parts, s2 spoilers, reader is feminine/femme, can’t think of anything else

men and minors dni.

jinx;

✧.* jinx is right there with you- hello season two.

✧.* she never sees your attitude as a problem, frankly. she's usually the one to be told that she has an attitude problem despite never seeing anything wrong with it. why would she see it as a problem?

✧.* but if anyone else were to insinuate that you had an attitude problem, you need to tone it down, any of that, believe that jinx is jumping in and defending you. both with her words and physically.

✧.* "hey, i'd watch what you're saying," she'd bite, right before whipping out her pistol and pressing the cold barrel to some poor guy's neck. jinx isn't bothered by how his eyes widen, he immediately starts trembling or even his blubbered apologies. "she'll talk to you how she wants to talk to you. got that?"

✧.* seriously, though, i think jinx would consider it pretty fun to have a girlfriend just as, if not more sassy than she is. she’s been told to tone it down, to watch her mouth, but you’ve always understood because you’re the exact same way. and that makes it so much more fun.

✧.* sometimes you guys feed off each other, and jinx finds it one of her pastimes. she's always had a smart mouth, especially when it comes to her sister, randoms in zaun, and topsiders. could you imagine sassing them together? incredible.

✧.* "fancy topsider here- that top's outta season, you know?" you'd giggle, playfully elbowing jinx in the process. it'd earn a laugh from her, though a grimace from said topsider. "i know. you guys are all high and mighty but can't even follow your own rules? please. i could do better tying together yarn."

✧.* and then there's times where someone's getting under your skin, you say something witty back, and she finds herself falling for you all over again. something about a girl who isn't afraid to speak her mind and is confident.. it's so attractive to jinx.

✧.* the fact that you're so confident, you don't give a shit how others perceive you, it's just amazing to her! she loves that you're so sure of yourself and you're not afraid to ruffle some feathers if need be. you're just expressing yourself in the way that works best for you!

✧.* "jeez, toots, do you have any idea how hot that was?" she'd grin, slinging an arm around you and pulling you in close to her side, her lips landing on your cheek in a wet kiss. "all i did was stand up to some dickhead." "still, that was hot! agh, you should've seen yourself!"

✧.* jinx also really loves that you're not afraid of how she perceives you, even though you're in a relationship. jinx is used to people being afraid of her, willing to do anything they can to avoid crossing paths with her. they'll lower their voices around her and try to say things they know will keep them on their good side- but not you.

✧.* and if anything? she finds that intriguing. because she knows you'd never be rude to her or sass her necessarily, but the way you're so confident around her knowing her reputation has her falling deeper and deeper.

✧.* like.. you could just be talking to jinx about something so mundane, and the way you hold your chin up and the tone you use would make her want to jump you and kiss you senseless.

vi;

✧.* are you kidding?? vi would find it so, so attractive! don't know who here has heard of the stereotype of 'femmes with attitude problems' but that's basically what i got from this request, and my god does vi love it. you're not afraid to mouth someone off in a pretty skirt, and that does something to her!

✧.* you could be talking off someone who's annoying you, your tone one that people would usually reprimand all while holding your chin up high, and it would leave vi feeling weak.

✧.* would she want you to be like that to her? depends on the context, usually not- behind closed doors after hours, sure. but gods, just seeing you with your brows furrowed, tossing your hair and crossing your arms while mouthing someone off is just incredible to vi.

✧.* she doesn’t see it as a problem the way she knows others might. while vi sees how it could be a problem, with the way you get yourself into situations with respected figures, she still thinks it’s a good thing.

✧.* vi loves that you’re confident. loves that you’re sure of yourself, and you don’t care what others think of you. she’s confident in her own ways as well- the brawl, the strength. the way she’s built herself out of seemingly nothing. but it’s different when it comes to you.

✧.* vi isn't exactly shy, but she's the more quiet and calm of you. and she likes to have that balance- the one who stays out of the way for the most part, and the one who isn't afraid to cause a stir. the confident one. you bring out each other's strengths and compliment each other.

✧.* “and then, i told him his mother was probably so disappointed when she’d seen how he turned out! and all he had to tell me was to watch my tone. can you believe it?” you’d ask, scoffing with your arms crossed over your chest. “no,” vi would shrug, though she’s honestly too awestruck to form meaningful sentences. “but you handled him well, if that’s all he had to say.”

✧.* vi makes sure to reign you in sometimes though- not because she thinks your attitude is a problem, but because she knows others might and she doesn't want to see things escalate to a dangerous point. it's all out of concern for your safety :(

✧.* "hey, you probably shouldn't be using that tone with her-" "why not?" you'd protest, furrowing your brows. "because she could send people to whoop your ass in minutes. you're right, but she'll just be offended. please."

✧.* she'll never voice her admiration for your demeanor and attitude necessarily, but she has a sneaking suspicion that you already know. it's in the way that she can only stare at you while you're being sassy, the way she's flushed when you're next to her walking like you own the damn city. you may not actually own the city, but you've got that exact hold over vi's heart.

mel;

✧.* i feel like she'd be a bit taken aback at first, usually people are very careful with how they speak to mel. she's one of piltover's most influential figures if not the most influential, a councilor. so seeing your confidence and the fact that you don't really care about making a good impression on her, it surprises mel.

✧.* but that surprise turns into intrigue rather quickly. she's never seen anyone quite like you, and it's interesting. that air about you is something she grows to admire over time, because it's something she's never had.

✧.* mel has to be very careful with what she says, both as a medarda and as a councilor. she has a reputation to keep, and public relations to preserve. so in a way, she admires you for being unafraid to speak your mind. for being unabashedly yourself. she sees something in you that she wishes she had.

✧.* but she isn't jealous! not at all. if anything, she just respects you a lot more for being able to do some of the things she could only dream of.

✧.* and trust me, there are times where she wishes she could tell someone off. wishes she could throw some smartass remark in their face, but she can't because of who she is- and you're more than happy to step in for her. she comes from a prestigious family, but you don't.

✧.* "darling, it's fine, really-" "no. they were messing with you, why would i just let that slide?"

✧.* "hey! you think just because you're a councilor, you can talk to her like that?" you'd scoff, placing your hands on your hips. pressing your glossed lips together in a scowl, while tugging your girlfriend close to you. daring him to challenge you. "and who are you?" "her girlfriend. who are you?"

✧.* while mel won't say anything after the fact beyond shaking her head with crossed arms, she really does appreciate you sticking up for her. she just warns you to not go too far, because it could reflect badly on the both of you in terms of press.

✧.* and seeing you be so confident, so sure of yourself, does inspire mel a good amount. she's always had problems with her perception of herself, having grown up with a mother like hers. finding out that she was a mage didn't help any either, and she's felt lost. but seeing you so secure in yourself, not giving a damn what others think, it makes her think that maybe she could be like that, too.

✧.* not exactly like you, no. you both are your own people, but that's the beauty of your partnership. two people from different walks of life, with different attitudes, who compliment each other. who love each other.

✧.* "and then, i walked off! because who the hell am i to let someone waste my precious time?" you'd scoff, tossing your hair over your shoulder in that dramatic way you often do. all the while, mel is just staring- her hand rested in her chin. "you're awfully cute, do you know that?" and you'd chuckle, placing a light kiss to her cheek. "i do, but it's always nice to hear it from you."

sevika;

✧.* yeah she's smitten. i think at first, sevika might try to act as if she's annoyed by your behavior, but truly, it's attractive to her. your confidence and demeanor is like a magnetic pull.

✧.* sevika is also confident and unafraid, but she's gruff. she keeps to herself, she's more rough around the edges, and she's not nearly as expressive as you are. so it's familiar to her, but your approach is new.

✧.* she doesn't know exactly what to make of you. one of the first times she'd spoken to you out of turn was to let you know- "you're... different. somethin' about you, i've never seen it before. huh."

✧.* though after more time spent with you (though reluctant at first) she grows to accept and even admire your attitude. sevika's never been the most friendly or warm person, but part of her rough demeanor and harsh words are a survival tactic. but for you it comes naturally- your sass and rough words are just a part of who you are.

✧.* and after even more time, i think she'd come to appreciate it. maybe even find it funny. seeing the look on people's faces when some dressed-up girl with her hands on her hips starts mouthing off is pure gold to sevika. they'd underestimated you, and you had no problem putting them in their place.

✧.* there's times you just get fed up, you're not being listened to by someone and it's frustrating. they underestimate you, maybe because you're not as traditionally aggressive as the rest of zaun's folks, maybe because of your appearance. either way, it gets under your skin. "hey! i'm talkin' here, in case you forgot," you'd scoff, snapping in front of the person's face. sevika watches from the sidelines, and she'll step in if she needs to. but she also knows you can handle yourself just fine.

✧.* or there's times where sevika's brought you along to the casino with her. you're sat next to her along with a group of guys from the industry- some old acquaintances, colleagues who had left the world of crime, the like. you're not exactly participating, but you know what's going on. sevika's got these guys in a trap, she always does. she's a damn good player.

✧.* until someone decides he's done with her skills and moves, slamming his deck of cards down on the table. "fuck this, 'vika. you've gotta be cheating, there's no way-" "that she's winning? maybe you just suck at this! ever thought of that, huh?"

✧.* sevika's trying so damn hard to bite back a laugh, but a little chortle does escape her. "the fuck are you laughing at?!" he'd ask, his jaw open in an expression of shock. offense that you'd dare talk to him like that. "you heard the girl."

✧.* the two of you balance each other out that way. the roughened woman on the front lines, who takes no bullshit and fights like no tomorrow- with the headstrong, sassy woman. the one with a pretty face, yet a sharp tongue.

caitlyn;

✧.* caitlyn might be a bit jealous at first. she's got a lot of thoughts, and she's a very opinionated person. she comes from a long line of influential figures, and her role is an important one to the people of piltover. but it's precisely those things that make it so she has to watch what she says. caitlyn can't say exactly what she wants to or means, because she has a reputation to keep and she can't afford to burn any bridges.

✧.* but it's nothing personal, of course, and with getting to know you better that jealousy turns to admiration. she's happy that you're able to advocate for yourself in that way, and that you have some of the freedom she doesn't.

✧.* and her seeing a pretty girl mouth someone off and put her foot down? seeing you know exactly what you're saying, what you're worth, and how to express yourself? yeah caitlyn doesn't have a chance.

✧.* with the amount of opinions caitlyn has and things she wants to say, the thinks that it's good you're outspoken, good that you're 'sassy.' she understands that others may see it as a problem, but she's never gotten that perspective herself. the way she sees it- more power to you.

✧.* "don't hold back," she'd tell you. "if you've got something to say, say it, damn it. it's only too much for people who can't take it."

✧.* the two of you become rather attuned to one another, and it's like you can tell what cait is thinking and vice versa. if caitlyn won't say it, you sure as hell will.

✧.* you'd be observing while at a gathering with your girlfriend, an event with some of the most influential figures in piltover in attendance. she's dressed to the nines, poised and proper in everything she does- though other guests are testing her patience.

✧.* "hey, leave her alone," you'd say, idly twirling your empty glass in one hand. "dunno what you've got going on, but she's clearly not interested in your ideas. i bet she thought of the same thing when she was twelve."

✧.* though the person on the receiving end is flustered and trying to brush off what you've just said, caitlyn is enamored. it's mere seconds before the woman is pulling you into the next room, slamming her lips onto yours. "gods, that was great," she'd mutter between rushed kisses, her arms snaking around your waist. "the look on his face."

✧.* your confidence just makes you all the more attractive to cait. you've got a good head on your shoulders, and you know that. you're damn beautiful, and you know that. there's no beating around the bush, only your shameless expression. it's amazing.

✧.* as far as caitlyn is concerned? she's got nothing to worry about as long as she has you by her side. she knows how to command a room, and you know how to demand one. you're better together!

lest;

✧.* she might be a bit taken aback at first, though it isn't a matter of intimidation. you're just different to lest, and she's not sure exactly what to do with that. she's always been the more peaceful, more observant one. she sits back and does her job while stroking clients' egos and telling them what she knows will make them happy.

✧.* she's expressive, yes, but she doesn't have nearly as much bite as you do. her confidence is something more innate, she just is and doesn't have the same air as you do. but lest does come to appreciate your demeanor and fire for what it is. comes to love it, in fact.

✧.* she's just in awe. you're so beautiful, so confident, but you've got a mouth on you. she's heard what others have said: that you need to know your place, that your attitude is a problem, that you need to watch yourself before you get into some real trouble.

✧.* but to lest, these traits are only something that makes you all the more alluring. the way she puts it, it's as if you've put a spell on her with your words and body language alone. a spell she hopes never wears off.

✧.* she's so in love with the way you carry yourself, and how secure you are within yourself. you don't take shit, that's for sure- whether it's a "hey, i wasn't done talking," or "i know the idea's good, i've only been pushing it this whole time!" the way you know exactly who you are and what you're worth enraptures lest.

✧.* you could be out in public with her, someone casting sideways glances at you for some reason you can't quite figure out- though it doesn't exactly matter. her tail swishing side to side, wide eyes keeping watch of everything around her. though she notices you looking at someone for a bit longer than usual. "everything alright, dear?" she'd ask.

✧.* "yeah," you'd affirm, though you'd be clenching your fists at your side. "just looks like someone has a staring problem. a real bad one." she'd look over to the figure, someone who seemingly doesn't belong here anyways. "i'll take care of him. don't worry about it."

✧.* it's mere seconds before you're marching over to the guy, tapping your foot and telling him off- "do i have something on my face, huh?" "no, i-" "then stop staring!"

✧.* she also comes to learn that you'll step in for her if needed. you never cause any harm- you're sassy, not violent. but if a client is getting a little too demanding with her and you're by her side, lest can count on you to tell them they need to remember she can very easily drop them.

✧.* afterward, you're always quick to tug her close to you, pressing light kisses to her spotted cheeks. "you okay, love?" you'd ask, your voice uncharacteristically tender. "i'm okay, darling, really," she'd affirm. pressing closer to your touch. "but thank you. i probably wouldn't have done that myself."

[luigilore]

okay so here goes: imagine you were changing into your pajamas or something, and after stepping into your pants you look into the mirror and get distracted. you wanna look away but can’t, seeing your breasts and maybe placing your hands on them and feeling dejected. like one of those times where you examine yourself in the mirror for a very long time, evaluating every angle and feeling really disappointed.. eventually lu would maybe worry about where you went and he’d find you, maybe seeing you from the doorway and feeling his heart skip a beat at your expression. he’d look at you for a minute and then feel bad that he’s seeing you half naked and so vulnerable without your knowledge so he’d go up to you so quickly to ask what was wrong. you’d be mortified kinda, but mostly just sad, telling him ‘i just wish they weren’t so small. they don’t even fit into your hands.’ and he’d be so quick to reassure you, sad that it’s affecting you so much but also so determined to make you change your mind. he’d ask to touch you, obviously, and then just hold them gently. ‘these? i think they’re perfect just like this.’ and it wouldn’t even be sexual, he’d just get to show you how much he loves your body and how there’s nothing he’d change about it… ☹️ sorry i’ve just been thinking about this a lot. thank u love <3 no worries if you don’t wanna write anything after that confusion xx

ughhh this is very sweet... i truly think luigi would be so good in these vulnerable moments! he would be sooo gentle and careful and looking at you with so much love <3 like imagine you saw something stupid online that has stuck with you for the past few days (i am guilty of this)… and luigi can honestly kind of tell something is off but he doesn’t want to pressure you into talking to him but he is a bit worried… from (not so) afar esp when he watches you now...

you’d startle when he clears his throat and feel soooo flustered like there's no reason to be embarrassed, it's luigi, but you still make some attempt at covering yourself. and his chest aches a bit at your misty eyes

i think he would be a bit upset that you're insecure/upset on his behalf omg >:( "do i make you feel like that?" lu asks you genuinely because he'd feel so bad and you'd quickly be like no!!! and he ofc knows he doesn’t but it would hurt his heart 🙁 would ask to touch you soooooo carefully and gently and would watch your reactions. like ur right it's not even sexual but it's sooo intimate and vulnerable and loving, massaging or just holding your boobs, pulling your body close to his, murmuring “these- you, are perfect to me.”

i think he would be very earnestly vulnerable in his own reaction and comfort towards you if that makes sense. looks at you very intently and says “i hate that you tell yourself these things- that you believe them." i really think he would not hide how your pain affects him and how much he cares and genuinely wants to change your mind, understand even just a littleee bit how he feels about you!

omg i haven't talked abt luigi wanting to be as close as humanly possible to you in a while but ofc that applies here, hands rubbing up and down your thighs, kissing down your neck to your chest... falling asleep in his arms :(((

[paperstorm]

Final snippet from Somewhere in a Song 🥺 Thank you endlessly for caring about this fic if you did!!

Thanks for the tags beloved @carlos-in-glasses @tellmegoodbye @annoyingcloudearthquake @heartstringsduet @ladyknight1512 @strandnreyes @orchidscript @thisbuildinghasfeelings @bonheur-cafe

-

“Hey,” TK says again, quiet this time, nudging Carlos’s face with his nose.

Carlos props himself on one elbow, looking down at TK’s flushed face and seaglass eyes.

“I just �� really love you,” TK whispers.

Carlos smiles. Every inch of him goes warm and fluttery, overwhelmed as he often is when he stops to think about how in love he is. Every day he thinks he loves this man as much as he possibly could, and then by tomorrow he’s always wrong. He brushes their noses together, gently back and forth, before he rests his forehead against TK’s and murmurs, “I love you so much, Tyler.”

TK’s smile feels just for him. They’re alone, so it is just for him, but it’s more than that. TK has many smiles, many beautiful arrangements of his ever-expressive face, but this particular glint of his eyes and flush of his cheeks feels like a secret that only Carlos knows. He wonders if he has a smile like that, a particular glittering fondness in his gaze that only exists when he’s looking at the man below him. He’s sure that he does.

“Did you pack your biggest, yeehaw-ist cowboy hat to bring to Tokyo?” TK asks. His grin shifts to playful and Carlos shakes his head, engulfed with affection.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Are you gonna pack all your most ripped jeans and your super cool leather jackets?”

“Duh. That’s what the people pay to see.”

“What, your exposed nipples?” Carlos laughs.

“Among other things, yes.” The corners of TK’s eyes go crinkly and Carlos dips down to kiss him, suddenly so drunk in love that he feels like he has to sweep his tongue in TK’s mouth or he’ll stop breathing.

TK hums underneath him, pushing his hips up. He’s still hard in his jeans and Carlos grinds against him, lost for a moment in the sparks that dance along his spine.

“Off,” TK mumbles, pushing at the waistband of Carlos’s pants.

Carlos ignores him for a moment. He can’t seem to stop kissing TK sometimes; like he’s water, like he’s oxygen. His lips tingle where they’re brushing against TK’s half-open mouth, tongues meeting over and over in a wet slide.

“Mm,” TK hums, cupping the back of Carlos’s neck with one hand and tickling him lightly on the ribcage with the other. “We have a time limit, remember?”

“I wanna spend hours in bed with you,” Carlos tells him, pushing up to his knees so he can back off TK and they can hastily strip themselves out of the clothes that separate them.

TK smiles at him, hair a little messy as his sweater is pulled off and added to the pile of fabric on the floor. Carlos drinks in the sight of him nude, so much soft skin and the gentle curve of muscle and his cock already shining at the tip. He’s too in a rush to bother with his socks, he just moves back in and holds TK by the waist so their bodies are pressed flush together, the headrush of it making the room spin around them.

“Days, even,” Carlos continues, nonsense tumbling thoughtlessly from his mouth as he kisses down TK’s neck. “Just you and me.”

“Days?” TK laughs, the sound tumbling into a soft moan as Carlos sucks at a pressure point.

“Get a nice hotel room somewhere and then never leave it.” Carlos tips his hips forward, moaning himself as his erection slides deliciously alongside TK’s in the warm sandwich of their abdomens. It sends sparks down his spine and slow pulses of arousal deep in his pelvis. They don’t have time for what he really wants, for them to be connected as intimately as they can, but Carlos can wait for that. He just needs TK, just needs to feel him close.

“You really missed me, huh?” TK teases, but there’s something a little dreamy in his voice as he nudges Carlos’s face for another languid kiss.

“Yeah,” Carlos agrees. He gets lost for just another moment in the majesty of TK’s mouth and then he shoves at him, smiling as TK squawks in surprise and bounces on the mattress.

Carlos descends onto him like he’s prey, kissing his way up TK’s stomach and then dropping himself back down so he can roll his hips with more leverage – a proper deep slide that seems to fill the air around them to the most decadent sparkles.

Tagging @theghostofashton @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @eclectic-sassycoweyes @carlos-in-glasses

@bonheur-cafe @actual-sleeping-beauty @herefortarlos @heartstringsduet @alrightbuckaroo

@goodways @lightningboltreader @emsprovisions @freneticfloetry @liminalmemories21

@reasonandfaithinharmony @ladytessa74 @never-blooms @sanjuwrites @orchidscript

@lemonlyman-dotcom @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @honeybee-taskforce @hereghostslive

@just-inside-her @firstprince-history-huh @captain-gillian @tellmegoodbye @ironheartwriter

@butchreyes @anactualcaseofthetruth @ditheringmind @thisbuildinghasfeelings @whatsintheboxmh

@irispurpurea @nisbanisba @chicgeekgirl89

@carlossreaders @denizoid @everlastingday @rangersoup @ambernotember

Want to be added or removed from the list? Lmk