#gn!cosmic masterlist

[asterafroditis]

hi hi! may i please request the housewardens with a reader who is exactly like robin (hsr) or sua (alnst)? if you could make reader have robins little wings too ^_^

𐔌 . ⋮ cosmic celebrity .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Housewardens x Robin/Sua gn! reader

𓏵 2196 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, fluff

I'm in both the hsr and alnst fandom so this was a great delight to write!! feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

At first, Riddle doesn’t quite know what to make of you. You’re polite, refined, and carry yourself with an air of grace that even the nobility of his world would envy. Yet, there’s something about you that unsettles him—something he can’t place. It isn’t fear, but rather a quiet awe, as if he’s standing before something larger than life.

Your voice is unlike anything he’s ever heard before. When you sing, it isn’t just a melody—it’s a force, a presence that fills the air and lingers long after the last note fades. Even the roses in Heartslabyul’s garden seem to sway in time with your voice, as if nature itself is listening.

You remind him of a fairytale figure: enchanting, mysterious, and somehow just out of reach. He watches how others react to you—how they’re drawn in, how they lean closer, how even the most unruly of students fall silent in your presence. He tells himself that it’s simply your talent, your charisma, that compels them. But deep down, he wonders—do you ever long for something outside of this attention?

He notices the way you slip away when the crowds get too overwhelming, the way you seek quiet corners, away from prying eyes. It’s in those moments that he sees the real you—unburdened, free from expectations. He never tries to keep you from disappearing when you wish to, but if you ever linger a moment longer beside him, he considers it a victory he will never voice aloud.

Despite your cosmic fame, you never make him feel small. If anything, you listen to him, truly listen, in a way few ever do. And when you sing for him—not for a performance, not for an audience, but simply because he is there—he feels something in his heart shift, something he doesn’t yet have the words for.

And when your wings give a small flutter, as if content to be beside him, he dares to think that maybe, just maybe, you don’t mind lingering near him either.

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Leona isn’t easily impressed. He’s seen talented people come and go, each believing themselves to be special. But you? You’re different. Not just because of your voice—though he won’t deny it has an effect even on him—but because you exist in a space all your own, untouchable by the world’s expectations.

You remind him of the savanna winds—unpredictable, fleeting, impossible to catch. One moment you’re right beside him, and the next, you’re gone, leaving only the echo of your presence behind. He finds himself watching, waiting, wondering when you’ll slip away again. It annoys him more than he’ll admit.

He doesn’t understand why you’d waste your time with him, lounging in the shade while the rest of the world clamors for your attention. But you do. And when you sing—not on stage, not for a crowd, but just absentmindedly beside him—he feels something deep in his chest, a resonance that lingers long after the sound has faded.

Your little wings shift slightly when you stretch, ruffling just a bit when you let out a sigh of contentment. He watches them, lazily flicking his ear in response. He calls you a show-off, but he knows better. You don’t sing to impress. You sing because it’s simply a part of you, as natural as breathing. And that is what unnerves him most—how effortlessly you weave yourself into the lives of others, how even he isn’t immune to your presence.

He won’t ask you to stay when you vanish, but if you ever return to his side, slipping into the shade like you never left, he won’t say a word about it either.

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Azul thrives on control, on knowing exactly how to sway people in his favor. Yet, when it comes to you, he finds himself at a loss. You’re an enigma—someone who should, by all logic, be easy to manipulate. After all, you’re a performer, a star, someone who relies on the admiration of others. But the more he observes you, the more he realizes—attention doesn’t hold power over you.

You accept it, yes, but you are not bound by it. You exist above it, outside of it. And that unsettles him.

Your voice—your ability—fascinates him in a way he can’t quite explain. It isn’t just about business, though he tells himself it is. The way your music resonates, how it lingers even in the water, how it affects even the merfolk… it’s unlike anything he’s ever encountered. He wants to understand it, to study it, to figure out what makes it so powerful.

But then you turn that gaze on him—calm, knowing, like you see through every carefully crafted façade—and he wonders if, for once, he’s the one being studied. His eyes dart briefly to your small wings, which shift slightly, responding to something unseen. He wonders if they’re attuned to more than just the music—if they sense lies, deceptions, things he keeps hidden behind his careful smile.

When you disappear, he pretends not to care. But when you return, slipping into the lounge as if you never left, he finds himself relaxing just a fraction. He doesn’t need to own your song—some things, he realizes, are far more valuable when left free.

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Kalim adores you. From the moment he meets you, he’s utterly captivated—not just by your talent, but by you. You’re like a shooting star, brilliant and fleeting, and he wants nothing more than to keep up with you, to chase that light no matter where it leads.

He doesn’t question your elusiveness, nor does he try to keep you from disappearing. Instead, he cherishes every moment you choose to stay, celebrating your presence as if it’s a festival all on its own.

He asks you to sing, not because he wants a performance, but because he genuinely enjoys your voice. And when you do, he listens—not just to the melody, but to the emotion beneath it, to the way it resonates even in the stillest of nights. Sometimes, he watches how your wings react to your own music, perking up at certain notes, quivering with feeling, as if they too are carried away by the sound.

You surprise him often—not with grand gestures, but with the little things. The way you remember the smallest details, the way you can disappear into a crowd yet always seem to know exactly where to find him. It’s those moments, more than anything, that make him realize just how special you are.

He never asks where you go when you vanish, nor does he try to hold you back. He only hopes that, wherever you wander, you’ll always find your way back to him.

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Vil understands fame. He understands the weight of being watched, the expectations, the pressure. And so, in you, he sees a kindred spirit—someone who walks the same stage yet does so with a grace that seems almost effortless.

He admires your composure, your ability to captivate with a single note, a single glance. Yet, what intrigues him most is your unpredictability. You are refined, elegant, the picture of poise—until you choose not to be. Until you surprise him with a boldness that catches even him off guard.

Your little wings fascinate him. They move with you as naturally as your breath, fluttering in response to your emotions, betraying what you don’t say aloud. He finds them exquisite—another layer of your beauty, another piece of your ethereal presence. Sometimes, he watches them out of the corner of his eye, noting how they react to praise, to exhaustion, to excitement. They make you all the more mesmerizing, a performer even when you do not intend to be.

You are not a puppet to your audience, nor do you seek validation in their praise. You are simply you, untouched by the world’s expectations. And that, more than anything, is what makes you truly beautiful.

He won’t stop you when you disappear—he, more than anyone, understands the need to step away from the spotlight. But when you return, when you stand beside him once more, he will welcome you with open arms, knowing that true stars are not bound by any stage.

─────────────────────────

Idia isn’t easily drawn to people. He’s more comfortable behind a screen, away from prying eyes and social expectations. Yet, when it comes to you, he finds himself unable to look away.

At first, he assumes you’re just another celebrity, another untouchable figure meant to be admired from afar. But you don’t fit into any neat category. You’re famous—cosmically famous—but you carry yourself like someone who doesn’t care for the spotlight. You let people worship your voice, yet remain untouched by their devotion.

It unsettles him. Because he understands idols, performers, people who thrive on attention. But you? You exist outside of it, separate from it, as if the universe itself bends to your whims. And maybe it does.

The first time he hears your song, it’s through his tablet. Someone must have been playing a recording in the dorm, and the sound carried through the halls like an echo from another world. He nearly dismissed it—until he realized that it wasn’t a recording. It was you.

The sound seeped into every shadow, resonated with every circuit and wire. Even Ortho noticed, his sensors picking up strange energy fluctuations. Your voice wasn’t just heard—it was felt, like an unseen force brushing against the very core of his being.

He doesn’t know how to approach you, not at first. You’re unpredictable. Not in the chaotic, overwhelming way that extroverts tend to be, but in the quiet, calculated way that unnerves him. You’re graceful, elusive—but then you do something bold, something completely unexpected, and he has no idea how to react.

Like the time you appeared in front of him, eyes sharp and knowing, before casually inviting him to a game you knew he liked. No expectations, no pressure—just an invitation. And just like that, he was drawn in before he even realized it. Even now, he wonders if you noticed the way his gaze lingered, not just on your expression, but on the way your wings fluttered ever so slightly, as if encouraging him to follow.

He won’t try to keep you from disappearing. But if you ever return, sitting beside him in the dim glow of his monitors, your wings shifting with each quiet movement, he won’t pretend he’s not watching. Because for the first time in a long time, he realizes that maybe, just maybe, some people are worth looking up from the screen for.

─────────────────────────

Malleus has lived for centuries. He has seen the rise and fall of civilizations, watched as stars burned bright before fading into nothingness. And yet, in you, he finds something truly remarkable.

You are not of his world. That much, he knows. There is something about you—something otherworldly—that sets you apart. Not just in the way you carry yourself, but in the way the very air shifts when you speak, when you sing.

Your voice is unlike any magic he has ever encountered. It resonates with everything around you, weaving into the fabric of reality itself. Even the gargoyles seem to react, as if they, too, can hear the echoes of something far greater than what mortal ears can comprehend.

And then, there are your wings.

They are small, yet they move with a grace that intrigues him. They twitch when you’re amused, flutter when you laugh, still completely when you are deep in thought. He has never seen wings like yours before. They are not like a fae’s, nor are they like those of any creature he has encountered.

He longs to ask about them, to reach out and trace the delicate feathers with his fingertips. But he does not.

You are elegant, refined, a performer in every sense of the word. But then, just when he believes he understands you, you do something unexpected. Something bold. Something uncharacteristically human. And it fascinates him to no end.

You are like a dream, fleeting and untouchable, appearing and disappearing without warning. But he never feels as if you are truly gone. No, your presence lingers—in the wind that carries your song, in the silence that follows.

He does not ask where you go when you vanish, nor does he demand that you stay. He simply watches, waiting, wondering if you will return. And when you do—when your voice fills the air once more, like the whisper of forgotten legends—he listens, entranced, knowing that some songs are meant to be heard only for a moment, yet remembered for a lifetime.

[moonbaby26]

Title: Anniversary

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Notes: Sorry, only a very short oneshot. All I got for Valentine’s Day was the flu 😅. I’m still out in left field somewhere mentally. But I had to at least try and post something for our man, or else the cosmic scales would fall further out of balance over here.

Pirate!Reader/GN!Reader x Doflamingo, NSFW, unprotected sex, ejaculation, very minimally proofread

Fic Masterlist

—————————

“So you’re telling me that the kingdom of love and passion doesn’t even have a specific holiday for romance?” It was amazing you could speak at all right now to ask. But you didn’t get to see him often. Multitasking was just part of both your busy lives.

“If you needed a special day just to remember this, then that would be pitiful, now wouldn’t it?” He grunted with some humor in response, shoving you down into the mattress yet again as his hips kept rocking.

The moonlight was flooding into your captain’s quarters through the portholes. Your crew hopefully none the wiser while the both of you got this very welcome fix, and that tell tale smell of sweat and lust filled the space.

Anytime your ship was near enough to his island in your raiding routes through the New World, Doflamingo would know. And he would come. Flying through the night to land on your deck and prowl below to claim what you still so freely gave him.

How many other of his so called “allies” that he did this with, you had no idea. But you could always pretend you were somehow special as he massaged those powerful hands around your hips and thighs. 

The delusion was enticing enough as you contracted around that penetrating cock with another stifled moan.

“Yes…such a good pet.” He breathed with that tightness.

You could hear the unevenness growing in his dark voice too. And it only made your stomach tense even more with the brief praise.

He would alternate from absolute pounding to a more hypnotic rhythm that left you defenseless. So deep, so stretched, no one could ever compare to the things this man could do with your body.

The only man you wanted this from at all these days.

And maybe he already understood that. There were strange hints here or there. Like in the way his fingers sometimes loosened their grip again. The way he’d wipe your sweat or overwhelmed tears away before they could interfere with your desperate eyes he liked to stare down into whenever he pulled out to flip you back over.

“You want me to stay tonight. Don’t you, dear?” Those white teeth bared shamelessly. But his expression wasn’t the threat it might be to his enemies. Not with him still pumping his hips so purposefully as he plunged back inside you and your back arched in the next wave of euphoria.

You amused him so much. He enjoyed this game each and every time.

“Please…yes, just until morning.” That would only be a few hours from now. “I know it’s a lot to ask…please…” You never minded begging him.

“How very needy. I have an empire to run you know…” He angled himself, changing the feel so quickly.

You cursed and he laughed as your fingernails scraped deeper along his back. The vibration of his voice’s sound like music, frightening but further addictive

“Silly little animal…clawing and hoping. Always wanting more…” He chided without ever stopping. 

He never stopped until he’d filled you to the point of dripping. The mess of him running down your ass before his weight collapsed on top of you in all his post orgasm panting and grinning.

His legs were too long to even fit on your bed if he’d fully stretched out. But he never did that either.

Doflamingo curled around you as he pulled you onto your side without ever removing his now softening cock. 

“You only get until sunrise. I have other places to be tomorrow.” He managed to somehow still sound haughty even with beads of sweat glistening that broad chest.

But you were just soaking this in, no complaint at all while he held you. “Yes, sir. Understood.”

Maybe one day he’d let you call him Doffy. Yet you were pressing your luck far enough already. You couldn’t ask for more as he pulled your blanket over the two of you once the surges in body heat had finally quelled. The king of Dressrosa warmed your bed all the way until dawn on your pirate ship.

——————————

Admittedly you’d been happy enough in all of that for days too. Your good mood had carried well over into the next week. Though it had finally tried to falter when after stopping in the next port, your crew had been giving you the oddest looks when you’d come walking back aboard after fencing much of your stolen cargo in town.

They were too nervous to tell you something.

“Some of the Donquixote soldiers paid us a visit while you were away.” One of them finally confessed.

And you’d had to steel your expression, concealing the momentary panic that ran through you.

Because had you done something wrong after all? Had you gotten too comfortable in this very unbalanced working relationship?

But your crew would tell you nothing more. As if they’d been ordered not to when they only awkwardly said for you to check your quarters next.

Your legs felt weaker even as you’d walked so fast to go below deck and face whatever this would be.

Once someone fell out of favor with Doflamingo, any punishment was possible, any horror that man may imagine for his newest victim.

You’d thrown the door to your captain’s quarters open expecting the worst.

And then you’d stood there, briefly unsure if you were hallucinating as you could barely even see the floor.

Vases and bouquets littered the small room as if a field had blossomed in just the few hours you’d been away. The floral scent was like a slap to the face as your eyes moved from one color to the next.

Roses, lilies, orchids, tulips, and more. Every color, every height.

You’d had to walk so carefully just to navigate between them in your astonishment. Towards the largest vase of all that held cut down sunflowers.

A bright pink vase with a large envelope emblazoned with a struck through smiley face.

Your hands might even have been trembling a little as you’d ripped that envelope open to retrieve the letter within.

The handwriting was done with such flourish and purpose as you read it quickly.

“As I said, dear, I don’t believe in limiting myself to a single day to show my appreciation or desire.

But it appears you are starting to think differently on these things. And if my pretty pet seeks such superficial validation, then at least have the decency of choosing a more meaningful day to do it. 

Holidays like you spoke of began solely for the unwashed masses. But I’m wounded you seem to have also forgotten what day it will be for us by the time you are reading this.

The anniversary of the agreement of our two crews to first ally and your inevitable subjugation to me that followed. 

I didn’t know your favorite color or favorite flower. This small variety will have to suffice for now. On your next pass near Dressrosa I expect you to make this up to me.

Do not keep me waiting.

Happy anniversary until then.

-Doffy”

Your bed was about the only thing not covered in flowers as you sat down hard upon it.

You now had an anniversary.

And it was the day you’d first placed your life into a pirate alliance with a man who could destroy you all with only a flick of his fingers.

But this was him choosing to do otherwise.

This was him saying he did want more.

He wanted more of you.

Your navigator looked at you like you were a wild thing recently broken free from a cage as you’d come back onto the deck in a rush with that letter still clutched in your hand.

“How many nights until we could make it to Dressrosa?” You’d asked even if you were still smart enough to know the cost.

Your brain knew at least.

It was your heart that was now a whole other matter.

——————————

End.

Thank you for reading! 💘🦩💌

[ivystoryweaver]

Cosmic - Poe Dameron

Episode 1: A Space Odyssey next

Cosmic Masterlist | Poe Dameron Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Happy Poevember!

Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Summary: In 1981, in rural America, Poe crash lands to earth and you have to show him everything (set in America but reader is not necessarily American)

Content: some minor injuries and blood, not beta'd

Word Count: 2.4k

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

A deafening crash obliterated peaceful sleep on a silent, country night. You sat up in bed, abruptly, rubbing sleep from your eyes. Heart pounding and ears alert, you listened, hoping to convince yourself it was nothing - a dream, or maybe even a distant car crash.

Willing yourself to climb out of bed, you crept to the window, trying desperately to calm your breathing before drawing back the curtains.

That's when you saw it. A fire - distant, but definitely on your property. Maybe someone did crash. Or...was there some sort of electrical or gas explosion? As far as you could tell, the fire wasn't near your barn, or any of your sheds or buildings.

Scrubbing a hand over your face, you decided you better go check it out. Pulling your nightgown over your head, you grabbed the nearest pair of sweats - a crewneck gray top with matching bottoms. Taking the stairs two at a time, you headed for the back door, slipping into your boots and lifting your coat off the hook. Twisting the lock, you yanked open the door, but paused. You turned back and rummaged around in the drawer for a flashlight.

It flickered once before powering on, bright enough to lead you to the laundry room where you found a more useful spotlight flashlight and a fire extinguisher. Pushing open the screen door, you tried to estimate how far the fire was. This prompted you to grab your truck keys and drive.

The familiar creak of the your father's old truck door reminded you that this thing was probably on its last leg. You put the key in the ignition, impatiently bouncing on the bench seat.

"Come on, girl, not tonight. Come on."

After a few more sputters, the old thing cranked, a puff of smoke its only protest. With your high beams illuminating the path, you made your way to the mysterious flames.

In the few minutes it took you to drive across your property, bouncing over the uneven ground in the old truck, you started to realize how big the fire was...and that you probably should've called the fire department before you charged at it with a mere fire extinguisher.

Twisted hunks of metal had ravaged your farmland. Something huge had crashed here. An airplane or jet of some sort. Maybe experimental aircraft. Or a UFO. The musical motif from 2001: A Space Odyssey drifted through your mind. The government was sure to be here soon, probably setting up camp on your property and kicking you out of your own home on grounds of national security.

You were at a complete loss, heart racing as the smoke began to burn your lungs. Pulling your shirt collar up over your nose as a makeshift mask, you began to walk the perimeter of the crash, deciding to take a look before calling the authorities.

Rounding the corner of what appeared to be a black and orange metal wing, you heard a groan.

"Oh my god," you gasped, easing closer, braving the heat and the smoke to see what you assumed was the pilot. Something welled up inside you - adrenaline, probably, but your legs carried you forward to a man, half strapped into his seat, bloodied and unconscious.

"Oh god. Hold on. Hold on, I'm gonna get you out."

Racing back to your truck, you climbed into the truck bed, looking for a tool - anything to help you. Thankfully, you found a pair of work gloves, a wrench and a pair of pliers in the back, and a utility knife normally kept in the glove box.

You scrambled back to the man, praying to anything listening that he was not dead. After using the fire extinguisher to put out the fire immediately surrounding him, you used the knife. You cut him free of the straps holding him to the aircraft seat, grateful for gloves around such hot metal. Thankfully he wasn't a big person - not overly tall or heavy, so you were able to drag him all the way back to your truck.

It took all your strength and then some to get him all the way into the truck. You quickly examined him for obvious injuries, hoping he wasn't bleeding out or hadn't broken his back. He seemed generally okay, aside from some scrapes and cuts and minor burns.

Gingerly, you buckled him into the seat and slowly removed his helmet. He was bleeding from his temple, but the cut didn't seem deep. Blood and dirt covered his cheeks and was matted into his thick, dark curls.

"Gotta get you to a hospital." Cranking the truck, you glanced over at his orange flight suit, wondering who he could possibly work for.

You drove to the end of your property, wondering if you should drive the closest medical center, which was ten miles away, and closed, or if you should drive a hour to the closest city hospital. Either option was a gamble with your somewhat unreliable truck. What if you got stuck?

You decided against it, heading back to your house to call the fire department. They could take this man wherever he needed to go in an ambulance.

You pulled up to the house and switched off the engine, exhaling heavily before unbuckling both yourself and the pilot. You walked around the truck, opened the passenger door and jumped back with a scream as his head lolled over and his eyes blinked open.

"Where am I?" He croaked out. "Which system?"

"Hey, it's okay," you tried to soothe both him and yourself simultaneously. "You're at my farm. I think your jet crashed. I'm going to call for some help."

He tried to climb out of the truck, but flopped back into the seat with a groan. "The f...the First Order. Is the First Order here?"

You shook your head. "I-I don't know what you mean. I think you need a hospital."

Slinging one leg out the door, he gripped the truck door with his gloved hand, hauling himself to his feet.

"Careful," you instructed, reaching out to help steady him.

Deep brown eyes locked onto yours. "Thank you."

"Of course. Come on, let's get you inside."

He nodded, arm resting heavily around your shoulders. "Kriffing hell," he choked, limping with difficulty.

"Hey, I've got you. Just lean on me."

The two of you made it through the back door, into the kitchen, where you helped the pilot ease down onto a chair.

"You okay?" You asked, trying to steady him. "Is your leg broken?"

"I-I don't know. I don't think so." He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands.

"Hold on. Let me get you some water. I need to call for help."

"Wait!" He protested, stopping you with a strong grip on your arm. "Wait, who are you calling? The First Order can't know."

You shook your head. "I don't know what that is. I was just going to call an ambulance to help you and the fire department to take care of your jet out there."

"I'm fine," he waved you off, attempting to push himself up on the chair. "Believe me, I've been in tougher scrapes than this. I just need to get back to my ship, to my transceiver. Where's your satellite?"

"My satellite? I don't have a satellite," you explained. "I have a telephone. And a couple of CB radios. That's it. No satellite."

"Damn it," he huffed, seeming to grow more agitated by the moment. Yanking off his gloves, he pushed his hands through his hair, wincing as he grazed the cut on his temple.

"Let me get you some help," you insisted, opening the cupboard to get a glass, which you filled with water from the tap. "Drink this."

His eyes met yours and he nodded once, downing the glass in one gulp. You took it from him and refilled it, collecting the first aid kit from under the kitchen sink. "Here," you said, handing the glass back to him. "Drink some more. Let me look at your head. Then I'm calling an ambulance."

Without answering, he slowly accepted the glass of water, waiting patiently while you dabbed the cut on his temple, hissing as you cleansed it.

"You need to hold this gauze here for a minute. I don't think a bandage will stick in your hair," you explained. "I don't think you need stitches, but I would rather a doctor look at you."

Reaching for your arm, he stopped you, his calloused fingers circling your wrist. "Please don't call anyone. You're very kind but...please. Not until I'm sure."

With trembling breath, you swallowed down a growing sense of dread. Was this man some sort of spy? Maybe he was Russian? "Not until you're sure of what?"

"Of where I am," he emphatically explained. "And who's in control of this system. Noticing you shudder, he released your wrists. "Please, can we take your...speeder back to my ship? I won't bother you anymore."

Slowly nodding, you stood, flabbergasted as he used the table to help him climb out of his chair, standing with difficulty.

"Here, I'll help you," you found yourself offering, despite your concern about who this man could be.

Soon enough, you drove him back out to the crash site, wondering if you would somehow get into trouble with the government if this man communicated with an enemy of the state. But, not sure of what else to do, you watched as he climbed out of your truck, limped around the perimeter of the crash and did something with the ship that made the fire go out pretty quickly.

You weren't even sure if he wanted you to stay and wait for him.

After a few minutes, however, he made his way back to the truck.

"Comms are busted. My droid is a pile of wires. Glad it wasn't BB." Shaking his head, he sighed in frustration. "This whole thing is too hot to look at tonight. Do you think anyone will come looking?" He glanced over at you.

"Uhm, the nearest neighbor is five miles. Maybe no one saw," you told him. "They might see the smoke in the morning."

He nodded curtly, running a gloved hand over his face. "Would it be okay if I waited here for a little while? Maybe let my ship cool off and..." With a groan of pain, he turned to peer through the window behind him. "Do you think we could use your speeder to haul away some of the wreckage?"

You stared at him for almost a full minute. "Who are you?"

With a sardonic, exhausted half-chuckle, he shook his head. "Sorry. I...I can't tell you until I know where I am."

Chewing on your lip, you tried to decide what to do. "I'll tell you where we are. But you have to tell me where you're from too. Deal?"

He nodded, so you unbuckled your seatbelt and shifted to face him, one leg drawn up to your chest.

"We're in Iowa. But you must have known that. You must have been flying over us, maybe to the closest base, when you crashed."

"Iowa," he slowly repeated. "What system are we in?"

"You keep saying 'system' - I don't know what that means," you insistently explained. "We're in Iowa. In the United States. Are you not from here?"

"Uh, no," he quickly answered. "I have no idea where we are. Who's in charge of your United States? Are you occupied by the First Order?"

"I don't know what that is! We're the United States. Do you seriously not know the United States of America? Maybe the most powerful nation in the world? Or one of them, anyway. There's no one occupying this country. I've never even heard of something called a First Order."

"Good. That's good." Removing his gloves again, the man stroked his chin. It seemed to be a habit of his. "You said 'this world'. What planet is this?"

Without meaning to, you looked at him like he was crazy. "You must have a concussion. I definitely should've called an ambulance."

"Just - please, answer me. Please." His eyes found yours, dark eyebrows shifting pleadingly. True, deep concern radiated from his gaze as a shimmer brimmed along his lower lashes. "Please tell me. I don't understand. I don't know where I am."

"Okay, okay," you quickly reassured him. "I'll answer anything you ask. And...remember, you're going to tell me where you're from too. And a name."

He nodded quickly, scooting a little closer as if he were hanging on to your every word.

This poor man. He seemed really out of it. "We're on Earth. This is planet Earth. In North America. United States. In Iowa. On my farm. That's it, that's where we are. And you can call me Trix." You shrugged one shoulder. Not your real name, but your dad called you Trix when you were really young.

"Trix," he slowly repeated. "Trix...from Earth." He sighed, worriedly. "Earth. I've never heard of it. And you don't know the system?"

You shrugged. "I mean...Earth is in the solar system? In the Milky Way galaxy? Is that what you mean?"

"Milky Way," he gasped, staring at you in disbelief. "The Milky Way galaxy? Oh my...I've...I've never left our galaxy. I've never..."

His breathing grew shallow as his head hit the headrest with a thud.

"Oh, god, I think you're having anxiety or...just breathe." Reaching across him, you rolled down the truck window to give him fresh air, which didn't help much, because the air smelled like smoke. It seemed to help, however as he slowly began to calm down.

"Are you okay?" You finally asked after several tense moments.

"I think so. I must've. I think..." He trailed off, something in his eyes so forlorn.

You had to ask. "Are you...a spy? Are you Russian?"

Turning to face you, he frowned in confusion. "What's Russian?"

Okay. So either this man was completely mental, or...no. It couldn't be. You had watched too many science fiction films. He must have amnesia or something.

"Where are you from? You promised," you reminded him.

He swallowed hard, sitting up a bit straighter. Then he looked right into your eyes, again. There was something so honest and slightly unnerving when he did that.

"My name is Poe," he finally declared. "I'm from Yavin 4. It's in the Yavin System, in the Gordian Reach sector, in the Outer Rim Territories." Glancing down at his lap, he exhaled shakily. "It's definitely not in the Milky Way Galaxy."

next

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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[koiukiy-o]

orphic; (adj.) mysterious and entrancing, beyond ordinary understanding. ─── 002. the assignment.

-> summary: when you, a final-year student at the grove, get assigned to study under anaxagoras—one of the legendary seven sages—you know things are about to get interesting. but as the weeks go by, the line between correlation and causation starts to blur, and the more time you spend with professor anaxagoras, the more drawn to him you become in ways you never expected. the rules of the academy are clear, and the risks are an unfortunate possibility, but curiosity is a dangerous thing. and maybe, just maybe, some risks are worth taking. after all, isn’t every great discovery just a leap of faith? -> pairing: anaxa x gn!reader. -> tropes: professor x student, slow burn, forbidden romance. -> wc: 1.9k -> warnings: potential hsr spoilers from TB mission: "Light Slips the Gate, Shadow Greets the Throne" (3.1 update). main character is written to be 21+ years of age, at the very least. (anaxa is written to be around 26-27 years of age.) swearing, mature themes, suggestive content.

-> a/n: chapter twooooo oh my god im so excited for this chapter AUGH IT FELT SO GOOD writing this !! this is when things get GOOOODDDD and im ao HUHUHUHUHU to hear yalls thoughts!! hehe. i hope you like it! <3 -> prev. || next. -> orphic; the masterlist.

You don’t expect to see him here.

The planetarium is dimly lit, the soft glow of projected constellations swirling lazily across the domed ceiling. You hadn’t planned on coming—it was a last-minute decision. Yet, the vastness of space, even simulated, has always steadied you.

But then—

"Of course."

The voice, low and wry, edged with dry amusement, is unmistakable.

You turn.

Anaxagoras is standing just a few feet away, hands clasped behind his back, his dark eyes reflecting the cosmic sprawl above. He isn’t wearing his usual academic robes—just a simple, well-fitted dark tunic beneath a long coat, the fabric settling neatly against his frame. He looks different like this. Less like a scholar. More like—

Well. More like a man. 

"I didn’t take you for a stargazer," he says, voice measured, gaze still fixed on the cosmos above.

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. "I could say the same about you, professor."

The corner of his mouth twitches. "I do prefer the certainties of physics over the whims of celestial bodies."

"Ah," you hum. "So no fate, no destiny. Just equations and probability."

"Precisely." His gaze flickers up, tracking the slow rotation of the star map. "Though I will admit, there’s a certain poetry to the illusion of it all."

You glance up as well. Orion looms overhead, his belt gleaming sharp and clear. "Illusion?"

"These constellations," Anaxagoras murmurs. "They don't exist as we see them. Stars scattered across thousands of light-years, their arrangement nothing but a trick of perspective. We only think they belong together because of our vantage point." He says, after a pause, “The human mind imposes meaning where there is none.”

Your lips curl. "That’s kind of sad."

He tilts his head. "Is it?"

"Yeah," you say, watching the artificial night swirl overhead. "Thinking you're part of something greater, only to realize it's all a trick of perspective."

For a moment, he says nothing. Just watches you, thoughtful. Then—

"Perhaps," he concedes. "But perspective is all we have."

You glance at him again, but his expression is unreadable. 

There’s always been a distance to him that he maintains… almost religiously.

The hush of the planetarium stretches between you, the weight of his regard heavy. You’re not sure what it is that makes your skin feel so warm, your breath so shallow.

So you do what you do best. You challenge him.

"If constellations are an illusion," you say, "then what of all the truths we believe to perceive?"

His head turns slightly, his gaze locking onto yours.

You don’t look away.

"We only think things are connected because of our vantage point," you continue, your voice quieter now. "So how do we know if any of it actually means anything?"

Another beat of silence. Then, slow and deliberate, he says—

"We don’t."

Your chest tightens, though you don’t know why.

For a moment, it feels like that’s the end of it. Like you’ll both turn away and let the conversation dissolve into the simulated cosmos above.

But then—

Anaxagoras steps closer.

Not much. Barely enough to notice. But enough that when he speaks again, his voice is lower. Measured.

"We don’t," he repeats, as if the weight of it matters. "But sometimes, it’s worth entertaining the illusion."

You don’t know what to say to that.

You’re early to class.

Not by much, but enough to claim your usual seat and settle in before the lecture hall fills. Enough to shake off the strange tension that’s been humming beneath your skin since the planetarium.

You tell yourself it was nothing. A conversation wrapped in stardust and metaphor, just another verbal sparring match. Anaxagoras challenged you. That’s all.

But it lingers.

It lingers in the way your heartbeat picked up when he stepped closer. In the way his words—so measured, so precise—felt heavier than they should have. In the way his gaze held yours just a fraction too long, as if entertaining the illusion wasn’t just about the stars.

You exhale, flipping open your notebook. Focus.

The room fills, a murmur of voices, the scrape of chairs against stone. Then, just as the hour strikes, he enters.

Anaxagoras walks with the same deliberate grace he always does, his robes sweeping behind him. But today, as his eyes scan the lecture hall, they pause. Just briefly.

On you.

Something flickers across his expression—gone before you can name it. Then he looks away, moving towards the podium.

"Good morning," he says, voice smooth, effortlessly commanding. "Let’s begin."

You should be taking notes. You should be focused on the equations he’s sketching onto the board, the elegant arc of chalk gliding across the surface. Instead, you remember his voice in the dark, low and certain—

"Sometimes, it’s worth entertaining the illusion."

Damn him.

You press your pen to the paper, forcing your attention forward.

"Consider the nature of causality," Anaxagoras continues, turning back to face the class. "An event—any event—can be traced backward through a series of causes. But the perception of these events is often subject to our vantage point."

A pause. Then his gaze flickers to you, deliberate.

"One might argue that meaning is an emergent property. That cause and effect are simply the mind’s way of drawing constellations between unrelated points."

Your fingers tighten around your pen.

Is he—?

No. No, you’re imagining things. He’s lecturing. That’s all.

And yet.

His gaze lingers a beat too long before he looks away, continuing as if nothing happened. As if he didn’t just lace the entire moment with subtext so thick it might as well be its own theorem.

Your pulse is ridiculous. You need to get a grip.

The lecture moves on, but now you’re watching him differently. Not just listening, but observing. The way he gestures, the way his mind moves faster than his words, the way his lips quirk slightly when a student offers an answer that surprises him.

You’ve spent weeks admiring Anaxagoras for his intellect. Respecting him as a professor. Arguing with him for the sake of curiosity.

And...

Well, there'a no point dwelling on it, is there?

By the time the lecture is nearing its end, you’ve barely written anything coherent.

Your notes are a scattered mess—half physics, half what the hell is going on? The worst part? Anaxagoras knows. He hasn’t called on you once today, which is unusual. He always prods, always challenges. But today, he’s let you stew in your thoughts, like he’s letting you chase your own tail. 

Infuriating man.

"Before we conclude," he says, dusting chalk from his fingertips, "your next individual assignment."

The room collectively stiffens.

Anaxagoras turns from the board, his gaze sweeping over the lecture hall. Ilias straightens immediately, feigning deep intellectual engagement. You suppress a smile.

"As we’ve explored, physics attempts to model reality through observable forces," Anaxagoras continues. "But what of the forces we cannot measure? What of the unseen variables?"

Ilias perks up at that, intrigued. "Is he finally acknowledging my suffering?"

You elbow him. "Shut up, he’s setting up the assignment."

"Your task," he continues, "is to examine a concept often deemed metaphysical—fate, intuition, divine intervention—" He lifts his gaze, letting the weight of his words settle. "And construct a framework to explain its existence. Or—" his voice sharpens— "prove its impossibility."

A murmur ripples through the students. Anaxagoras doesn’t tolerate pseudo-science in his lectures, so the fact that he’s even entertaining this angle is unexpected.

It’s a trap, and everyone knows it. He’s handing you something abstract, intangible, and expecting you to apply cold logic to it. A thought experiment designed to test whether you’ll break under paradox or force the universe to make sense.

You listen, absorbed—until Ilias leans in again, whispering, "If I were to quantify the force that compels me to sleep in class instead of studying, do you think he’d accept it?"

You stifle a laugh. "I think he’d call it laziness and fail you on principle."

"Damn. Guess I’ll have to go with my second option."

"Which is?"

He grins. "Manifesting an equation that proves I am, in fact, always right."

You shake your head, biting back a laugh. "I’d pay to see you argue that with him."

As if on cue, Anaxagoras glances your way, sharp-eyed.

"Would either of you care to share your insights with the class?"

Ilias, ever the survivalist, doesn’t miss a beat. "We are discussing emergent properties of intelligence, professor."

Anaxagoras arches a brow, unimpressed. "A phenomenon you’ve yet to personally demonstrate."

The class chuckles. You shoot Ilias a look.

"Walked right into that one," you murmur.

Ilias sighs. "Yeah. That’s on me."

His gaze sweeps the class. "You may choose any concept, but your reasoning must be sound. Sentimentality will not be rewarded."

A collective groan. Someone mutters something about dropping the course.

You, however, are too focused on the way he’s looking at you.

He knows you’ll take this further than anyone else. He wants you to.

Then—

"Stay after class," he says smoothly, as if it’s nothing. "I need a word."

You feel the shift immediately. A few students glance between you and him, intrigued. You school your expression, pretending it doesn’t affect you.

"Yes, professor." you say.

He nods, then dismisses the class.

Chairs scrape against the floor. Students file out, some grumbling about the assignment, others already debating what concept they’ll choose. Someone lingers near the door for a second too long, clearly hoping to eavesdrop, before sighing and leaving.

Then it’s just you and him.

Anaxagoras exhales softly, rolling the stiffness from his shoulders before turning to face you fully.

"I’m altering your assignment," he says.

You blink. "What? Why?"

His lips quirk slightly, but there’s something intent in his eyes. "Because the standard prompt is beneath your abilities."

You swallow. He says it like it’s obvious. Like he’s been paying attention.

"Your mind doesn’t just follow logic," he continues. "It challenges it. So I’m giving you something worthy of that."

You exhale, half-exasperated. "Fine. What’s the twist?"

Instead of answering right away, he steps past you, picks up a book from his desk, and flips it open. When he finds the page he’s looking for, he turns it toward you.

It’s a diagram. A branching structure of choices, converging and diverging like neural pathways.

"Your peers will be arguing for or against metaphysical forces." His voice is measured. "You, however, will go one step further."

He closes the book, meeting your gaze.

"Instead of proving or disproving their existence, I want you to model one."

Your breath catches.

"What?"

His smirk is subtle, but there. "You heard me."

"You want me to… what, exactly? Build a mathematical model for something physics doesn’t even acknowledge?"

"Why not?" he challenges. "If intuition exists, quantify its mechanism. If destiny is real, define its parameters. If the soul endures, find the equation that governs it."

Your fingers twitch at that.

That’s—

That’s significantly more difficult than the original prompt. You’d have to rethink everything from the ground up. 

The soul?

You exhale sharply, shaking your head. "You really don’t like making my life easy, do you?"

His smirk deepens. "Where’s the fun in easy?"

You hate that he’s right.

And worse—you hate that you like that he knows you well enough to give you something harder. Something that will actually make you think.

Your pulse is an uneven rhythm as you meet his gaze. "Alright," you say.

He nods once, satisfied. "Good."

For a moment, neither of you move.

"You’re dismissed," he says, voice softer.

You hesitate. Then turn, heading toward the door.

Just as you step through the threshold, his voice reaches you, quiet but deliberate.

"Don’t disappoint me."

You don’t look back.

But you do smile.

taglist: @starglitterz @kazumist @naraven @cozyunderworld @pinksaiyans @pearlm00n @your-sleeparalysisdem0n @francisnyx @qwnelisa @chessitune @leafythat @cursedneuvillette @hanakokunzz @nellqzz @ladymothbeth @chokifandom

[luvrhyune]

-; ✧˖*°࿐ GOODNIGHT, PRINCESS . BANG CHAN .

★༉ SUMMARY ; chan falling asleep with his baby.

★༉ PAIRING ; bang chan x gn! reader.

★༉ GENRE ; fluff, slice of life.

— word count ; 374.

— warnings ; dad! chan, tooth rotting fluff, there is a baby.

— notes ; he’s been plaguing my mind. he won’t leave.

masterlist.

waking up in the middle of the night had become a regular routine after you had your baby. more often then not she would spend half of the night in tears, all because she wanted either yours or chans attention — and majority of the time chan would get up and give her what she wanted.

this specific night however, you woke up because of an empty bed. your hands patted out on the left side of the bed, frowning when you didn’t feel your partner’s warmth next to you. sitting up, you rubbed your eyes of sleep, deciding to go look for your partner.

you walked down the corridor, feet softly padding against the hardwood floor. you gently knocked on the door closest to your bedroom, before slowly opening it and poking your head inside.

the image before you made your heart melt. in the corner of the room, chan sat on the rocking chair, baby cradled to his chest as the both slept peacefully, low snores escaping their mouths.

you snapped a picture of the two before placing a hand on chan’s shoulder, “are you coming back to bed, baby, or would you prefer to stay here?” you whispered, thumb rubbing his shoulder soothingly.

chan blinked, waking up further as he took in his surroundings. he cleared his throat, looking down at the bundle of joy in his arms. she was a few weeks old now, and he still held her like it was her first day experiencing the world. he loved his little girl, that was evident, he always found some way to be around her, he couldn’t help it. “i’ll, uh, i’ll come back to bed.” he smiled at you, though he looked hesitant to leave — he didn’t want to put her down.

your smile widened knowingly, and your hand moved towards his cheek, “she’s not going anywhere, channie.” your free hand moved to her head, stroking the baby hairs, “she’ll be here when you wake up, she might even wake us up later if you’re lucky.” he laughed lightly, standing from the rocking chair, moving to put the infant in her crib.

“goodnight, princess,” he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, before walking back to bed with you.

-; ✧˖*°࿐ PERMANENT TAG LIST !!

@hyunverse , @chansburgah , @notastraykid , @seungbinbin , @seraphicsolitude , @starlostseungmin , @sunboki , @yongbokkari , @choiwonder , @luvyngi , @l3visbby , @nebulousbookshelf , @liknws ++ honourable dad! skz enthusiast : @cosmic-railwayxo

all rights reserved © property of @luvrhyune . please do not repost, claim or translate my work on this and / or any other platforms. thank you.

[robilover]

🪽 RULES

even if I mostly do SFW fics/headcanons/thirsts/blurbs, you must be 18+.

what I write can either be platonic or romantic.

I can do nsfw/suggestive posts, please read at your own risk.

I do fem!reader by default, but if you want gn!reader or afab!gn!reader, I can still do them! I do not do male!reader, though.

this is an LGBTQ+ safe space and is mostly a wlw/sapphic blog. therefore, strictly NO homophobia, transphobia, or anything that relates to hate to the LGBTQ+.

strictly NO incest, extreme kinks, pedophilia, etc etc.

please be respectful and kind in the asks and comments. I do not tolerate mean behavior.

if you request, please specify the gender or else I might just leave it in my inbox for a while.

I can do poly; character x reader x character. just specify if you want it separately or a poly hc or something.

additional rules are here. + here.

masterlist is under the cut together with the character list!

🪽 For NSFW:

I mostly do dom!character/top!character x sub!reader/bottom!reader.

I don’t mind doing top!reader but I actually just prefer being bottom (sorry guys💔)

again, NO extreme kinks (such as p!ss kink) and weird fetishes.

🪽 DNI IF:

you are homophobic, transphobic, or anything related to that.

you are a hater of genshin, hsr, or wuwa.

you are racist.

you fetishize wlw/women or have weird fetishes in general.

🪽 Character List (female characters):

colored ones are favorites/who I can (mostly) write for!

I will be updating this either way, so..

Genshin Impact

Lumine

Mondstadt:

Jean, Lisa, Fischl, Mona, Rosaria, Eula, Noelle, Sucrose

Liyue:

Beidou, Ningguang, Keqing, Ganyu, Hu Tao, Yanfei, Shenhe, Xinyan, Yun Jin, Yelan, Xianyun

Inazuma:

Kamisato Ayaka, Naganohara Yoimiya, Raiden Shogun/Ei, Kujou Sara, Sangonomiya Kokomi, Yae Miko, Kuki Shinobu, Kirara

Sumeru:

Candace, Nilou, Nahida (platonic), Layla, Faruzan, Dehya

Fontaine:

Lynette, Charlotte, Furina, Navia, Chevreuse, Chiori, Arlecchino, Clorinde

Snezhnaya:

Columbina, La Signora

Honkai Star Rail (HSR)

Astral Express:

Stelle, Himeko, March 7th

Stellaron Hunters:

Kafka, Silver Wolf, Firefly

Herta Space Station:

Herta, Asta, Ruan Mei

Belobog:

Bronya, Seele, Serval, Natasha

Xianzhou Alliance:

Tingyun, Sushang, Qingque, Yukong, Fu Xuan, Jingliu, Guinaifen, Hanya, Xueyi

Interastral Peace Corporation (IPC):

Topaz, Jade

Penacony:

Robin, Sparkle, Black Swan

Cosmic:

Acheron

Wuthering Waves (WUWA)

Female Rover, Yangyang, Baizhi, Chixia, Danjin, Jianxin, Sanhua, Jinhsi, Yinlin, Changli

Zenless Zone Zero (ZZZ)

Belle

Victoria Housekeeping:

Alexandrina Sebastiane (Rina), Ellen Joe

Cunning Hares:

Nicole Demara, Anby Demara, Nekomiya Mana (Nekomata)

Belobog Heavy Industries:

Grace Howard

Sons of Calydon:

Burnice White, Caesar King,

Criminal Investigation Special Response Team (PubSec):

Zhu Yuan, Jane Doe

Obol Squad:

Soldier 11

Section 6:

Hoshimi Miyabi

these are subjected to change. I will add the masterlist as soon as I get motivated to do so.

🪽 Masterlist:

Genshin Impact

Honkai Star Rail

Wuthering Waves

Zenless Zone Zero

My Hero Academia / Boku no Hero Academia

[hwaightme]

Sangshine

(masterlist) (join taglist)

🌅 pairing: sun god!yeosang x gn!baker!reader 🌅 genre: fluff, fantasy, soulmates, studio ghibli-coded 🌅 summary: when yeosang opens the door to your bakery, and a new chapter of your life begins, you cannot help but feel as though you had met before; yeosang is elated to relive every sunrise and sunset, and fall in love with you again. 🌅 wordcount: 5.4k 🌅 warnings/tags: solo edit, food/eating/making food, destiny talk, discussion of time, discussion of deities/olympus, kiki's delivery service-inspired setting, multiple lives, mortal/immortal, summer fantasy, seaside town, baker's assistant yeosang, his precious self, (not quite) strangers to lovers, falling in love again... and again, waiting for love, sun magic, mention of lacking sleep 🌅 a/n: when i say i listened to the playlist on loop, i mean it. this yeosang is dear to me, as is time, the sun, and the cusp of spring and summer, bringing transformation. this fic is also an early celebration of yeosang, our beautiful, talented malberman~ I hope you enjoy, love you, any and all reblogs, comments, asks and notes appreciated!

🌅 playlist: Suzume - RADWIMPS, Toaka ; Time for two - RADWIMPS ; A Town with an Ocean View, The Baker's Assistant, You're in Love - Joe Hisaishi, Path of the Wind (Piano Version) - URE Relaxing, Summer - Joe Hisaishi, Pekka Toivonen

🌅 perma-taglist: @doom-fics @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @pyeonghongrie-main @cosmic-w0lf

🌅can't be tagged: @yunbug @hjoymyluv @memoriesofwoo @mystar1024 @ate-ez

Once upon a time, on a day when the weather forecast had promised, and the grim steely clouds delivered ceaseless downpours, and you were stuck inside watching rain turn window views into a hazy blur and scare away any potential customers with its ferocity, the sun, cautiously, with a bashful grin on his face, apple cheeks and a boundless kindhearted disposition hinted in every gesture, entered your store.

Raven locks, slightly curled and framing his heaven-sculpted face, inquisitive eyes that were a complex painting, an entrancing shade of grey - one which, much to your surprise, you were fond of, unlike the endless expanse of rain summoners hanging above your shop. You attempted to regard him like you would any other customer, but stopped on your tracks, barely finding the counter with your hands as his form became the sole focus of your vision. It was as though the rain had purposefully passed him by, left an avenue just for him to enter the bakery and keep his leather dress shoes and black outfit pristine, the man crowned by a lucky spotlight. As the young man fumbled for a way to proceed, you wondered if he was a ray of sun himself and that was how he stayed dry in that torrential catastrophe. Forcing your mouth into a more amiable shape than blatant gaping, you returned his shy smile and inquired whether there was anything in particular that he was looking for - after all, if the man was in your store, and managed to expertly dodge what had to be the worst rainfall in a decade, he had to be determined to buy something, anything. Silently, you were hoping that even if he were a passing face, that he could keep your business, and you, afloat. 

You left him a moment to ponder and watched him amble towards the counter. This allowed you to study his features at proximity, with bated breath as he leaned towards the glass display and looked at some of the pastries. The drifting of a couple of unruly strands as he lowered his head revealed the hints of a birthmark, a rosy pink blossom on the left side of the beautiful man’s face. Delicate, elegant. You looked away in an effort to appear more professional than usual for the sake of first impressions - you were not sure why this particular man had inspired the urge within you, seeing as you were so used to serving only locals and speaking in an array of neighbourhood inside jokes that you would think any newcomer would instead inspire callousness and aloof behaviour. But the unmistakable warmth emanating from him, the soothing balm of a brighter day that he appeared to carry made you want to grow closer, aim higher, beam instead of scowling.

He caught you as you were smoothing your apron, your break in attentiveness allowing his gaze to travel over you the same way that yours had done when he had crossed the barrier into the delicious safe haven from the atrocious weather that he had to schedule - unbeknownst to the residents of the town, he had actually negotiated to carve a few more sunny days, more days for him to search. It was rare, for someone like him, to stumble across little paradises. After all, for the most part the planet was a blur for him, a daily task and a routine roaming that he had to carry out and maintain. The last thing that the young god needed and had to want was the experience of mortal pleasures - the responsibilities that the deity, in the form of a young man, had were drilled into him again and again, and none of them involved doing what he was doing right this second. But the calls had grown too persistent as he passed by this town, too strong to dismiss, and the sky was curtained by clouds, much to his fortune. It was not that anyone would notice if a blip in the sunlight ever happened. He knew what he needed, and he knew that it was time to achieve it.

“Um, sorry. Do you have melon pan?” the young man addressed you, his deep, dulcet tone like music to your ears. The tilt of his head as the question permeated the air, subconsciously mirrored as you broke into a series of nods, setting off to the bread rack that was located behind the counter, off to the right. Seems it was good to give into your own cravings sometimes and impulsively introduce new items to the menu.

“With cream or without?”

One thing that you would have never expected was that a sun god would make it a habit to visit you in his free time, and be it for a sweet treat or for reasons known only to him, would put on an apron and fall into your beloved routine. What the deity never expected, and remained pleasantly surprised about, was just how readily you had accepted him, and instead of obviously falsified reverence that he had grown accustomed to from mortals who were graced with knowledge of his existence, you treated him as ‘Yeo’. That was the nickname you had given him after he had introduced himself with a human name - Kang Yeosang; a key which, upon turning, made him your new friend, and he would be lying if he said he did not feel elated when you happily shouted out his name from the back of the store, instructing him to move some trays around, or asking him to help you with some bags or dishes. 

If there was another heaven, it would be in the rhythm that he had rediscovered with you. In the cosy space of your bakery, Yeosang was at ease, in a tranquillity that he previously thought existed only in books and in mortal movies, in myths about eternal bliss, a paradise in the palm of one’s hand. Something that belonged to other lifetimes, other avenues that he had traversed. He thought that he was the one to have the better cards, the advantages, but it was you who had him figured out, despite his abilities, immortality and near-invincibility. After a particularly scalding hot day, the first words that you had spoken to Yeosang once he made the chimes that were hanging right above the door ring exactly at sundown, were: “you made the sun shine brilliantly today, Yeo,” leaving him awestruck. To you, it was only a matter of putting two and two together, making the man, or not quite exactly a man, into the legend that he truly was. After that, you simply delivered him a melon pan with cream, and pointed at the little table you had put out at the front of the shop, asking if you could enjoy the last of the rays together. He had happily obliged, stars in his eyes as you guided him out, balancing a jug of freshly made lemonade and a couple of glasses on a board resting 

As the days grew impossibly long with the climb of the spring into the summer season, so did the opening hours of the bakery, right up until you were stretched so thin over the day that you introduced a midday closing time with a break for a few hours, much to the surprise of the locals. At the same time, it turned out to be a welcome one, seeing as with the arrival of Yeosang, the number of people coming through the green-painted door increased considerably. Of course they would never say it, but you could detect a curiosity and admiration in them as they spotted the beauty strolling around in the kitchens, and the dreamy sighs when Yeosang would peek out, and even interact with some of the customers were far too obvious to ignore. If you knew any less, you would probably find yourself jealous, but at the same time, how many people walked under the sun, day in, day out? That was what you tried to tell yourself when the crowds of students would blast past, buying up the stock on one occasion and simply loitering around on another after their gruelling hours of cram school, and the odd brave youngster would try their luck to flirt with the god. His responsive stoicism, however, dispelled any of your itching doubts, and with a couple of polite nods and a step in a direction farther and farther from whoever was his unwanted interlocutor, Yeosang returned to the rhythm. 

He did not mind the visitors of the shop, nor the delivery men who brought you fresh produce and ingredients. In fact, he had made some new friends in this way. But it was when he could catch your grin, listen to your melodic laugh and feel a light playful tap on his shoulder that the light was truly brighter. Aside from the laborious maintenance of the glowing orb, patrolling his part of the world before he needed to pass it on, he was now a baker. Technically an assistant at best, but you proudly called him ‘the real deal’ when you applauded him for helping you with the brioche loaves. The coolness of the morning before dawn never felt warmer as his heart swelled with your encouragement, as if the sun really did set and rise in this bakery, home to nature’s magic and the adoration that he held for the world, reflected in your eyes that caught the hints of the rising sun. Nothing could be more beautiful. 

“Good luck for today!” you chirped with excitement evident in your voice, adjusting his shirt absent-mindedly, a habit that he had allowed you to form, the few precious seconds where he could let himself imagine a timelessness with you.

“Good luck to you too, and see you this evening. We have the Summer Solstice event opening!” Yeosang answered, matching your joy. While you adjusted his collar and clapped your hands a couple of times, satisfied with the neat look, Yeosang remained more still than the verdant green trees that cast calming shadows over to the side of the shop in the early hours.

“That’s right, so you better be prepared to work the till until you become the till,” you should have known that your attempt to move the blackboard sign would be intercepted, and the deity’s arms were already guiding themselves between yours to grasp onto the wooden frame. Whispering out an apology, a light blush coating his cheeks when your fingers barely brushed as you detangled yourself from the kind intervention, Yeosang moved the elaborate logographic art onto the street in its rightful place, continuing with his encouraging ponderings:

“First day sales are about to beat all records for this beauty.”

“They better, or the seasonal specials will-”

“I can always call my friends if you’re worried.”

“So I can have Olympus in my shop?”

“Why not? Your treats are heavenly…” he trailed off, partially in disbelief at his own choice of words. Rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, Yeosang decided to let the moment carry itself forward, listening to the trickling of time. 

Again, the gentlest touch of your hand on his chest as a laugh escaped you, and what had struck fear in his heart dispelled to reveal a brilliant sunrise. It was always you behind those sun rays, wasn’t it? The question crept out of a deep slumber, having lied dormant for what had to have been decades, now crawling up the walls of his consciousness, melting away doubts that came with every first meeting.

“You really are too sweet. Now go, can't keep your colleagues and the world waiting.”

As you peered into his eyes, clear, bright, hopeful, you felt as though you were looking at the sky itself, admiring its infinite expanse and omniscience. An odd sensation hinted at its existence as you did not dare look away, letting yourself sink further into ever-changing blues and greys, highlighted with flickers of a mahogany flame right by the pupils. Almost as if you had seen these very eyes before, gazed into the summer sky and caressed the sun itself as though it was an ornate glass marble. Perhaps this was another one of the peculiarities that came with interacting with the divine, you concluded and brushed it off, simply glad that in the now, in the early dawn on what was to be a hot summer day, you could look forward to more than ever before.

Yeosang bit the corner of his lower lip, in nervous contemplation, before tentatively reaching for your hand which had been resting by your side, and giving it a soft squeeze, barely there until you responded, fingers intertwining, answering to his unsaid hopes. Gaze not leaving the unity, thumb running over the edge of your palm repeatedly in an attempt to memorise the presence, he whispered out, half to himself, half to the divinity above and around him in sacred promise:

“I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Even as he departed, and you watched his figure evaporate into the morning mist as he approached the reddening horizon, the feeling of his hand in yours remained as vivid as that feeling that you must have known Yeosang before, or at least the irreplaceable, unique warmth that he shared with you was something akin to the idea of home itself. Supported, quietly cheered on as you continued your daily duties and finalised preparations to open the store for the first half of the day, Yeosang was there in your every thought and movement.

The glints of sun as the trees, having been ushered awake by the earliest hints of warmth that the red tiled roof of the bakery caught, commenced their serene rustling, were ciphers, music to your vision that danced over the concrete of the street outside. The way in which the colours changed as the sun grew more prominent and energetic was a masterpiece in the making, white paint turning into a glowing fantasy. When you closed for the day break, setting off on a daily walk around the neighbourhood in your favourite linen dress and wide-brimmed straw hat, you were embraced by the luminance that ambled across the ultramarine heavens, Yeosang matching your stride.

Running your hand over the top of the stone fencing that lined the hill on which your bakery found its home, you let your gaze rest over the breathtaking scenery of your beloved town, the terracotta roofs, the cream walls that were highlighted with wooden planks that stood the test of decades, the cobbled streets and hustle and bustle of squares and markets, and the glistening ocean that was always the first to wave to Yeosang, all shining thanks to the summer sun. It was fascinating, how with the marvel of the seasons, the town transformed into a fantastical land that you could only hope to spend all your years in. It had always been your home, your calling, and even in the times when you had gone outside of the town’s boundaries, your heart remained right here, come rain or shine. Perhaps this was the true reason why you were so drawn to Yeosang - in his eyes, you saw the same place, the same time, the understanding of a home that was so personal you were convinced he was taking the threads from your very soul, and singing the melodies right back to you. Your own, only sun that you could not believe returned your daring, unwavering gaze. You waved at the midday orb, chuckling to yourself as a flock of birds dashed past, hoping that your cheers would be delivered. 

As you turned to give the bakery a once-over before turning the corner to head down the stone stairs that would lead you to a busier part of the neighbourhood, you gasped as the sign, a dainty metal pretzel right above the entrance rocked back and forth on the rod, as if waving back to you, and caught a sudden sun ray, reflecting the warmth for it to fall at your feet like a thousand stars, decorating the cobble to turn to an illuminated path of glowing marble. Unable to contain your beam, you bowed your head in gratitude and curtsied, wondering just what your neighbours would think if they were to poke their heads out from their bedrooms and shops. But you did not pay it too much mind, instead twirling around, and with a newfound lightness, found yourself on a mission to surprise the precious sunshine.

The longest day of the year, marking the moment when the sun would begin its slow journey to a hibernation for the northern hemisphere, and Yeosang would find himself growing that little bit less busy as a god, busier as your loyal assistant. He rushed down the streets as soon as his feet hit the concrete in a secluded spot that he liked to use for his returns, counting every second that passed and matching it to the start of the event. Seeing the small crowd that gathered by the bakery, waiting for their much adored pastries and cheerfully chatting away, pride swelled within him as he thought back to the wishes you had made, what you had been working towards and what you had now achieved. He glided into the store in efforts to find you, picking up the apron that you left for him behind the counter. You were in the middle of carrying a new tray of buns and motioned for him to take his position by the till - back to his favourite rhythm.

Customers came and went, the event turning into a hit, and by the second hour, your specially decorated melon pan was officially sold out; all except one for a certain someone, tucked away, kept safe. You almost felt guilty for keeping this tiny secret from the god, taking notice of his momentary confusion and barely restrained pout as he caught sight of the empty basket, and his disheartened stance as he picked it up and removed it from the display. You swore you saw what was already the night hour darken, and stifled a giggle, instead tapping Yeosang on the shoulder to give him a thumbs up for his hard work and mouth the words promising a gift. With a re-discovered vigour, the deity hurried off to assist an elderly customer who was trying with all her might to contain a loaf of sourdough and make it past a busy line - your store being the only one in this part of town to sport one in such late evening. As the chimes rang out again, you thought back to the little present you had acquired during your afternoon walk, barely containing yourself, bursting at the seams as you imagined what you wanted Yeosang’s reaction to be over and over again.

With the last of the customers came the quietude, a lulling blanket of deep navy decorated with stars that had been lying in wait outside of the bakery, a moment of rest for the sun god, a cooling serenity that you could share with him as you closed up, cleaned up, and ushered him to the little table outside - previously folded away and hidden behind an antique delivery scooter bike out at the front of the shop, so as to not attract attention, nor occupy the space that had always been set out for idle chatter of the visiting locals. As you let Yeosang finalise the furnishing of your makeshift lounge, you recalled his curiosity of the wheeled machine, and your suggestion that one of these days, he could use it as a chariot, much to his child-like excitement. You turned and made a beeline for the store, almost running into Yeosang in the process, your balance restored only by a pair of strong hands on your upper arms.

“What’s the hurry?” as though electrified by the contact, his hands flew away from you just as suddenly as they had caressed your skin, though, much like the heavenly reassurance of his presence on your wrist, the ghost of him remained around you, seeking an embrace. Retraining your focus on the man before you, you huffed and continued past him repeating “just you wait”, over, over like a mantra, a spell that you wanted to use to keep him in place.

Thankfully, he did not follow, instead stepping closer to the window that was now exposed to the moonlight since he folded the ruby red awning, faded with the years of sunlight and rain storms. Yeosang folded his toned arms, smiling to himself as he watched you throw one item, another onto a wooden tray, and shuffle back outside, not once breaking focus from balancing what had to be priceless treasure, considering how carefully you set it down in front of him.

“Sit.”

“But you’re standing.”

“Yeo, come on, sit down, I am just energetic!”

“After that shift? Are you sure you are not a god or demi-god yourself?” he countered, tilting his head.

“I- hm. Okay so we are standing then?”

“I want to be energetic with you!” the innocent comment made your chest ache, and what had previously been utter conviction that what you were doing was casual, customary for colleagues, friends, passing faces who had grown familiar, shattered into a vulnerable confession.

You stilled, the nervous rocking on the balls of your feet ceasing to bring you comfort, the erratic motions and gesticulations as you struggled for a response disappearing into the night and leaving an entrancing clarity. There was no other way to present this, and you had accidentally pushed yourself over the edge, a stance, a dare that you were no longer able to back out of. Facing the sun, you stepped closer and closer to it, and reached for the first item on the tray.

“Here is a little… thing I kept for you.”

“No… no way, is that melon pan!” he exclaimed, taking the small paper bag from your hands and peering inside, amazed to find his, and your favourite sweet bun. The crisp cookie dough layer solidifying the neat, recogniseable hatching, containing a custard cream inside, another homemade specialty. 

“You know, I recently found out that melon pan has another name,” dropping the bun back into the bag to give you full attention, Yeosang glanced back at you and pushed a stray strand of black hair behind his ear, preventing it from blocking his view. Gesturing for you to continue, he nearly squeezed the custard out of the bread upon hearing your elaboration: “a friend of mine, she works at a bakery in a city down south, and there, they call this sunrise bread. Funny, isn’t it?”

“So you bake suns in your oven?”

“Guess you could say that.”

How was it that you managed to leave him breathless regardless of the time you met was forever going to remain a mystery, but one Yeosang never wanted to solve. Instead, he was waiting with a fluttering heart for the moment you were going to say the words that had imprinted themselves in his eternal being, and travelled across from heaven to earth, from the east to the west, echoing in his mind as he searched for you over and over again until finally, your dawn could greet him. He remained silent, glancing at you and at the last hidden object on the tray, a box leaning against the glass jug, this time filled to the brim with a peach ice tea. 

“I… was at this antique store today. Don’t really know what brought me there but as soon as I saw this, I knew I wanted you to have it. I-... well, I don’t know if gods have birthdays but since it is the Summer Solstice, and you are basically the sun itself, I wanted this to be a little celebration of… you?”

“Of me? But-” never, not a single time could the divine being find rationality in your kindness, only the crossing of stars that tugged the fragile lonely hearts together into an intricate waltz woven in the skies. 

“Check it out!” 

Yeosang counted the seconds that passed once more, this night, this fateful night being so cruelly short, but so full of promise. His hands, trembling ever so slightly as he attempted to remove the lid, a trepidation taking a hold of him. Your infinite pools hurried him on with their anxious darting, and inhaling the sweet scent of the sea and his earthly home, he opened the box to reveal just what he had been anticipating, a relic, centuries-old masterpiece passed on from one you to another. Forever yours, finding its place in the same antique shop to return to him and to you, making another beginning. 

He searched for the ring at the top of the sun chimes, stained glass beauties attached by sturdy strings to a hook that, the next dawn would find purchase at the base of the bakery sign above the light grassy green door, there to remain for a measure of time. Lifting it out of the box, Yeosang admired the stars, the crescent moon, the sun that had been crafted and immortalised just like himself, ready to attract and dissipate every ray that would grace them. A miniature galaxy contained in impossibly intricate artwork, with every sparkle appearing to house a memory and still hold space for the near and far future. Your future, his future. Lost in the relief of meeting the object as though it was a good friend, he barely registered your diffident approach.

“So… what do you-”

“I love it, Y/N.”

“You do?”

“I do. And I think I know just where to hang it. If you do not mind, of course,” upon seeing your nod of approval, he lifted his arm to turn and point at the pretzel, gleeful when he saw your face light up brighter than the sun he was tasked to carry. “Let’s do it now, before it is too late to sleep and before the sun rises. So that I can visit you more while the days are still too long.”

Insisting on saying your morning goodbyes to him, even though barely a few hours had passed between the hanging of the chimes and the palette of the skies gaining lighter blue, lilac and pastel pink hues, you stood under them, huddled in a wool blanket to minimise the contrast of the cosiness of your bed and the breeze travelling down the still, somnolent streets, alive only thanks to the the scattering of lamps and the world surrounding them, watching over them. One blink, another as you tried to rid yourself of sleep to convince Yeosang that you were perfectly fine and ready to start the day. In reality, you simply wanted to catch the first glints on the chimes and follow his journey across the sky, dreaming of his sunset back in your bakery.

Hands concealed by the thick material and unable to smooth his shirt, you could only take a step towards the divinity, the action turning symbolic. What you did not anticipate, however, was that this dawn, he was more than happy to take over your duties and instead of him melting under your softness, your ears were turning red as he pulled the blanket tighter around you, taking its edges that were close to your face, adjusting the ticklish fabric like it was a one of a kind ball gown - unbeknownst to you, that was was exactly how Yeosang saw it, and when he saw you trying to nuzzle into it and away from his amused expression, he could not resist any longer, and with one final pull rested his forehead against yours, noses colliding briefly causing you to let out a feeble yelp.

“I’ll see you in the chimes later, yeah?” he whispered against your skin, the proximity proving intoxicating as you could only just register and make sense of his words, initial shock wearing off to lay down the path for the return of the same feeling from the earlier night, only this time more real, more certain fully reciprocated.

“And later. I’ll make more sunrise bread for you.”

“I think I know something even sweeter. If you will let me indulge, of course.” the last moment before the break of your dawn, a question by which the world was hanging in intimate suspense. 

The past, present and future collided as, in response to Yeosang’s careful request, you boldly closed the already practically nonexistent space between you, finally understanding the true meaning of being sunkissed. It did not take any time at all for the god to return the revealed fondness that you had kept guarded until it only felt natural to bring to light. Like the balmy immersion of the elements, suspended on the cusp of spring becoming summer, Yeosang leaned in with immeasurable affection as if he had been carrying it for all his eternity and kissed you like a long-lost lover who wanted to, through every movement, recollect the memories made, the days spent together, retrace the unity of two beings colliding into one entity, set alight like the brightest star in the universe. 

As he tried to remain more level, gentle in an effort to not expose you to the early dawn’s winds, you grew frustrated from the lack of true warmth, wanting to fly closer to the sun, into it, be consumed by it. Gliding your hands out from under the blanket, you reached for Yeosang’s shirt and pulled him towards you, dragging him impatiently to the open door where you promptly shrugged off the material. Perplexed and worried, Yeosang momentarily broke away from the kiss to ask you whether the action was comfortable.

“Aren’t you going to get cold?”

“Are you saying the sun god cannot keep me warm?” chuckling at the fluttering of his eyelashes, abashedness at your ambiguous choice of words evident on every part of his face, you let your arms rest on his broad shoulders, gleaming back when his own found your waist, playing with the material of your top.

Touching your nose with his own, he was shy in his advances, seeing every wrong turn and prospective hurt unfold in accompaniment to the tragically perfect duet of a mortal and an immortal soul. Knowledge of the lives you had lived, while it was a blessing, at the same time was a series of unbearable lessons that decorated Yeosang's heart like untreatable scars. The mark on the side of his face, your first ever caress, a peppering of butterfly-like kisses on his face, celestial stardust, which has manifested itself as a symbol joyously tying you to him, now emitted that familiar dull burning, having re-encountered its creator. This was an ache that he would give up the sun to experience again and again, the pizzicato thrill warmer than the coming heatwaves, than the surface of the galaxy's centre. 

"I don't want you to ever burn, Y/n." He murmured, understanding that the words would not hold as much weight in your interpretation. You took another step towards him, pressing yourself close, surrounding yourself with his solar flare.

"I trust you. Do you trust me too?"

"More than the skies above us, always."

"Then I know that we will be a beautiful sunrise."

He peered into your gorgeous eyes, looking for anything to stop him, convince him that he needed to step away, knowing full well that he would find nothing except his love returned, amplified by your own. Such was the merry-go-round of life that had been set out for you and Yeosang, an unstoppable turning of the gears that were set in motion by destiny. Now, the light began, soon there will be darkness, and in the future, foreseeable by the god, there will be more light. The sun will peek out from the edge of the planet, crawling across the foaming waters to call the residents of this town awake again and again, whether there was to be a town here, or not. The sun remained, and so did Yeosang's eternal wait for the next turn of the divine clock's hands. As he shut his eyes and kissed you once more, feeling heaven and earth collide, his musings reduced to a simple melody. He was happy that in this lifetime too, the sunshine found you.

[mi-i-zori]

CoD AUs -Masterlist

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish, re-use and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform, including AI.

Main Masterlist

Fae!AU

Drabbles

Fae!141 Scents

On-Going Series

The Hunter and The Prey - Fae!Ghost x The Hunter (Fem!Reader)

Of Dried Herbs and Sunlight - Fae!Soap x The Apothecary (Fem!Reader)

From In-Between the Lines - Fae!Price x The Writer (Fem!Reader)

Greek Mythology!AU

Other People's AUs Fan-Work

Until The End - Hades!Soap x Persephone!Reader (@charliemwrites)

Hybrid - Shifter!AU

Drabbles

With Love and Purrs - Cat Shifter!Nikto x GN!Reader

Squirrel Hybrid!Reader - 141 x GN!Reader

Monster!AU

Other People's AUs Fan-Work

Water and Wraiths - Ghost x Soap (@bluegiragi)

Random AUs

When Silence is No More - 2 - Astronauts!141 x Cosmic Horror!Reader

SCP!AU

On-Going Series

SCP-8077 - The Doll - Ft. MTF Alpha-141

Viking!AU

Other People's AUs Fan-Work

Among the Ice of Her Thoughts - Viking!Soap x Reader (@ghouljams)

[binniesbabe]

Livy's Rec Fic Masterlist

♡key - fluff [f] | angst [a] | mature [m] |suggestive [s]

Stray Kids

"Run, little lamb. Run." [m] pairing: lee minho x fem!reader @seo--changbin

if i leave, which i must do [f,a,s] pairing: han jisung x female!reader @skzhua

style, 1989— musician from next door [f,m] ✰pairing — musician!jisung x f. reader @starlostseungmin

off limits (h.h) [f,s] pairing: hyunjin x reader @yxngbxkkie

user [a] pairing: kim seungmin x reader @writing-my-life-away

steamy [m,f] pairing: felix x trader @sky-yuna

in which u beg chris for round 2 [m]╰┈➤ bang chan x f. reader @faeryacha

forgive me for what i haven’t done [a,f] pairing: felix x fem!reader @rachalixie

Hide and Seek ~SCB [m] PAIRING: Changbin x Fem!Reader @dreamescapeswriting

Bottling up [a] pairing: idolminho x gn reader @bonobonoyaatheart

Into The Chaos- Bang Chan [f] pairing: idolbang chan x reader @kpopimaginings

The Fan Meeting [f,m,a] Pairing: Idol!Han Jisung x afab reader @dontaskmemybias

Photobooth [f] pairing: kim seungmin x reader @astraystayyh

Anger Management [f,a,m] Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Han Jisung/Han x Fem Reader @2chopsticks2eyes

Dance For Us [m] pairings: Lee Minho x Fem Reader|Lee Felix x Fem Reader| Hwang Hyunjin x Fem Reader|Lee Felix x Hwang Hyunjin @2chopsticks2eyes

“Hyung Will Teach You” [m] PAIRINGS: Bang Chan x Fem!Reader x I.N @seo--changbin

Series

Doll House and Melting Point (m,f,a) a reposted series

TO HOT TO HANDLE MASTERLIST [m,f] synopsis: You and skz members become contestants in a reality dating show, Too Hot To Handle @seospicybin

instead of you (masterlist) [a,m] ongoing pairing: best friend’s brother!lee minho x f!reader ft. han jisung @sluttywonwoo

it’s a bad idea right? -hjs [a,f,s] ongoing  pairing: jisung x fem!reader. @cosmic-railwayxo

「𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕'𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚗」 · masterlist [a,m] ongoing ※ Bang Chan x afab reader @exxxtraoddinary

Make Love, Not Porn|Masterlist [m] ongoing barista!hyunjin x cam girl!reader @charmercharm3r

Hello Stranger|Masterlist [f,a,m] PAIRING: minho ft. hyunjin x fem!reader @tasteleeknow

Blue Side of The Sky Masterlist [f,a,m] —pairing: lee know x f. reader @hyunfilms

Ephemeral Love | Masterlist [f,a] pairing: Seungmin x reader @feelbokkie

Love on The Court | l.mh [m] jock leeknow x nerd female reader @etherealinowrites

Too Hot To Handle [s,m] pairing: lee felix x reader @seospicybin

Hot Bitch Summer [s,m,f] fratboy!stray kids x reader @hyunsvngs

Devils Advocate [s,m] pairing. ot8 x fem!demon!reader @kkami-writes

Never Have I Ever [s,m] pairing(s); everyone x everyone (stray kids x reader) @hyungszn

Oddinary House [horror] pairing: stray kids x reader (separate) A girl gets an invitation to come and visit the Oddinary House, located at the other end of town. Despite her hesitation, one night she heads there, only to be trapped in the abandoned mansion with a bunch of monsters. @jinnie-ret

Texts

Wanting to go to the Barbie movie with Stray Kids [f] pairing: ot8 x reader @channie-143

When you’re both competing at ISAC [f] pairing: idolskz x idolreader @feelbokkie

texts with stray kids- when you send their pictures as reactions (hyung line) [f] pairing: ot8 x reader @hyunribbon

Tomorrow x Together

i can't swim, idiot ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ choi beomgyu [f,m] pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader @beom-pyu

Hey Emo Boy! [f,m] bassist!Beomgyu x fem! reader @koqabear

Take it! [a,m,f] chaebol!Beomgyu,chaebol!Taehyun! x fem!reader @koqabear

Enhypen

-always [a,m,f] — starring. childhood bestfriend!jake x fem!reader @wonlovie

Other Groups

the best man. (m.l) [m,f] pairing: mark lee x reader @mrkis

Series

Dive Into You (Masterlist) [m] completed pairing: brothers Jeno/Haechan x female reader @neopuppy

[macravishedbymactavish]

Sunrise (Alex Keller x GN! Reader)

| Blog HQ | Modern Warfare 2019 / 2022 Masterlist |

| No use of Y/N | Taglist Open |

Submission #1 for the “Alex Keller Challenge” hosted by our one and only @glitterypirateduck

Quick note - no real TW, but mentions of OC Keller siblings and Neko (Alex is a cat dude on this blog). Some minor angst but it's generally fluff

Prompts used:

What were you thinking

Please don’t make me answer that

Keep talking

“How was work?” Your husband called from the kitchen, peeking his head around the corner when you didn’t respond. Blue eyes filled with worry as you bit your lip. From the moment you woke up (late, you might add) to now it felt as though the cosmic laws were your enemy. That Murphy’s Law chose you as it’s lucky contestant.

Mouth opening and closing, silent pleas escaping as you pitifully shrugged. Closing your mouth into a soft pout. Pulling your eyes up, you fought back the tears that were forming. The day weighing heavily on your soul.

"Hey, hey." His tone soft, as he crossed the room to stand in front of you. His touch gentle as he placed his palms over your shoulders. The warmth comforting as he quietly asked "what's going on inside that beautiful brain of yours, hm?"

Breath hitching, you lowered your gaze to meet his. The details blurring through the unshed tears as you slowly lifted your arms, finger tips grazing his sides. A soft huff as he pulled you in tight, both of you ignoring how sensitive his stomach was.

Eyes closing firmly, you let your cheek fall against his chest. A sob finally escaping your lips as he protectively cupped the back of your head. Humming softly as you felt every emotion from the day.

Resting his chin atop your head, he stayed silent. Softly rubbing one hand along your back as the other continued holding you close. His heart silently breaking at the sound of your pain.

After some time, your sobs dissipated into soft sniffles. The steady beating of his heart beneath your cheek grounding you; silencing the emotions and noise within your head. The feeling of his hand rubbing lazy circles across your back calming the nerves that were once screaming beneath your skin.

“Once you’re ready, I am here if you want to talk about what you were thinking about when you got home.” He offered, pressing a loving kiss to your hair as he continued to hold you. Mindlessly rocking your bodies back and forth.

Opening and closing your mouth, words escaping you as you merely shook your head. Pressing your face back into the soft fabric of his shirt as you grabbed fistfuls of the fabric from his back. Holding him tight, as though he would disappear if you let go.

“I’m thinking of trying out a new soup recipe later on. It has those drop dumplings in it, the flour ones that never get enough credit.” Alex hummed. “My sister sent it to me, jokes on her though. I’m not a catering service and the soup will be all mine.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that crept across your face at the mention of the Keller siblings disputes. Shuffling your feet forward, you silently asked to curl up on the couch. Keeping a firm grip on his shirt, not letting him get too far away.

“You’re more than welcome to the soup if you want some. Unless it tastes terrible, then I’m not exposing you to my failed science experiment.” He continued, head leaning against the cushions as he pulled your legs to lay across his lap. “What happened today?”

You knew he was testing the waters, gauging your reaction and continuing to offer an ear for any venting you may find beneficial. Never once would he push you to talk about anything you weren’t ready to discuss.

“Please don’t make me answer that.” You sighed, head resting against his chest as you pulled his arm close. Tracing your fingers mindlessly over the lines that covered his skin. “Just keep talking; about anything. How’s Neko been?”

If there was anything Alex Keller couldn’t shut up about, it was you and his cat.

“She’s good, has a spotty haircut that she’s less than impressed about. Didn’t clean her back well enough and got some mats that were easier to trim out than try to brush.” He started, setting the scene of him and his sister wrestling the small animal to groom her. Giving you a much needed distraction. A small, sad smile crossed your face as you snuggled deeper into his chest.

If this lasts forever, you’ll be just fine.

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @bowtruckleninja @v1naco

Alex Keller Taglist: @gcing-back-to-505 @deadbranch @glitterypirateduck

[zileans-big-cl0ck]

Hello! How u doing?

Can i ask for some DarkCosmic! Jhin x gn! reader headcanons! Im crying fr there is barely Jhin content. Im so happy i found your blog, its so damn great <33 ilysm!! Take care :D

✦–Dark Cosmic Jhin x reader short story.✦ (SFW)

✦Demos on their way to provide Jhin content for you, because Jhin enjoyers deserve everything that’s the best.

✧ prompt: ✧ just some headcanons that are placed in the Cosmic/Dark Star alternative universe.

✧ champions: ✧ Jhin, the Virtuoso (Dark Cosmic).

✧ reader: ✧ gender neutral (no Y/N used).

✧ author’s note: ✧ I’m afraid it turned out more like a short story than headcanons, but you must forgive me, the whole Cosmic universe is just so emphemeral and majestic, it called me by itself to write something like this, frfr. Like, I literally have Dark Star Kha’zix as my main theme, just because it’s the most aesthetic skin in the entire game. ANYWAYS, guys, hit me up with any ideas for Jhin content, because I’m gonna take care of it, I PROMISE. And don’t worry about your asks, I’m really writting them, I’m just a bit lazy and slow. As always, please ignore any mistakes.

masterlist

The Cosmic Court has lost Jhin’s light. He has fallen into the Dark Star’s trap, embraced the inky space. Now, bestowed with new starfire powers, he conscientiously begun to claim the Universe as a canvas for his artwork.

Jhin’s corruption quickly escalated, cosmic frame mirrored the cells of his mad and abstract concept of reality. It all belonged to him now. He could create anything or make nothing from the absolute; proclaim the universe with a new virtuoso as a cradle of twisted nebulas, incandescent galaxies, blurred across the black reality.

His hunger grew alongside claiming more and more stars, his four emphemeral hands - two filled with the energy of relinquished Cosmic celestial, the other two greeting the omnipotent might of the Dark Star - working, reaching, grabbing, painting, spreading.

These hands, he reached them once for a brand new Galaxy, fresh and pure, uncertain of the destination it should met. It could be turned into something truly gorgeous, breathtaking, beyond anything a simple mortal could ever comprehend. He wanted to ensnare this light, capture it at its most enduring state, and then squize it in his claws, paint the infinite darkness of expanse by its entrails.

But Jhin hesitated. It wasn’t just another impotent Galaxy drifting in space, awaiting its dull end, that would come in eons. It was another Celestial being, alive and in their youth, unaware of the ongoing war between the Dark Star and its corruptants and the Cosmic Court.

He approached, though there was a concerning aspect in their apperance. Like a whirling black hole that he employed to create artworks greater than himself, the artist behind.

Discovered when he found himself closer, he realized that he misses the feeling of gliding freely between plantes, with stardust sweeping through his ephemeral cape. Emptiness surrounded this poor Celestial, ubiquitous darkness and black background only in the sight. It was almost pitful, to look at something so lonely, with no items to craft and work and paint. But Jhin was an artist, which entailed that he felt and saw more, curiosity rised achingly in his cosmic body.

And he obtained them, because Jhin, empowered by the power of the Dark Star, always got what he desired, what his longing soul cried for. Firstly, it was a move made from pity; soon he became covetous, as he saw other corruptants becoming jealous of his new pet. The old, disdainful wraith, Mordekaiser, jeered, demanding his own cohort of enslaved Celestials. ”If Jhin can have one, why won’t we create a whole army of it? Why should we meet constelations with cataclysms, instead of claiming them as our own?” he asked, encouraged by the coward, Xerath. But Jhin decided to mercifully ignore his acquaintances, as the Herald, Thresh, didn’t stop him - his own twisted mind hided his soft spot for some kind of pets.

Jhin admired his new companion’s loyality. They decided to stood by his side, and he was positive they would be loyal even in the end of the Cosmic Court, end of the Dark Star and the whole Universe, just because he had freed them from the nothingless of their corner of space.

He uncovered that he had no desire of consuming nor devastating the Celestial into a new piece of art, just becausae of their purity and mellowness. When born in a dark emptiness, their being couldn’t soak with the benightedness that kept buisy the minds of others. He could bathe them in his own ideas and beliefs.

Neither Mordekaiser nor Xerath could order him to leave his new partner - they became his inspiration, his only appreciated audience. Their word was valued by Jhin more than the ardous asks from the other corruped cosmic titans.

They weren’t ordinal. They were found in a repugnant darkness, embraced by no stars, no nebulas, only ceaseless nothingless. It was almost calming, like the dim insides of the Dark Star, which were consummate, persistent, always hungry for more. Jhin admired it and wanted to show his pet the whole Universe, the beauty he could rip from constellations, melt them to his will.

He often became pensive, milling the thoughts that consumed his mind, pushing him into the greatness of his immense conciousness. They could listen to him for eons about the convoluted twists and strings behind his art. But he would never talk about his past and the Cosmic Court. And they were never malicious enough to force him to confess that.

The whole Galaxy was yours. Jhin was the reason the sanctimonious herold of the Dark Star, Thresh, has brought the rightful owner, the true heir of the devouring force of this Universe, Lux, so she could claim the throne. And by this way, the Virtuoso obtained favourability of his master - the one that gave him the powers. It let him spread the superficial chaos, proudly pace through space with his new companion, his beautiful galaxy, his devotion and destination.

Because Jhin was never reserved; if he wanted the whole Universe to belong to him, he would accomplish this task even without help of the Dark Star.

[dc-and-arfrona]

Crushing

Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Based of this prompt/anon ask:

can you please do jason todd crushing on a star sapphire reader?

Word Count: 700+

Type: Fluff

Masterlist

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I couldn't take my eyes off them. The way their emerald green eyes sparkled with a cosmic energy, mirroring the power of the Star Sapphire ring that adorned their finger. They were captivating, a beacon of light in the darkness that consumed my nights. Every time they entered the room, my heart would skip a beat, and I found myself drawn to their magnetic presence.

Their energy was unlike anything I had ever encountered. It was vibrant and alluring, like a celestial dance in the night sky. I watched as they effortlessly wielded the power of love, radiating warmth and compassion to those around them. It was as if they held the universe within their very being, and I couldn't help but be enchanted by their celestial grace.

But it wasn't just their powers that fascinated me. It was the way they embraced their role as a Star Sapphire, protecting love and nurturing the hearts of others. Beneath that ethereal exterior, I saw a soul that understood pain, loss, and the yearning for redemption—a soul that mirrored my own.

Yet, I couldn't help but feel a pang of longing every time I saw them with another hero, sharing moments of tenderness and understanding. A part of me wished I could be the one to ignite their passion, to be the recipient of their unwavering love. But I knew, deep down, that I wasn't deserving of such a cosmic connection. My past, stained with blood and vengeance, made me unworthy of the purity they embodied.

Still, I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to hold them close, to feel the power of their love enveloping me. Would it be a soothing balm for the scars etched into my soul? Would their touch bring solace and redemption, washing away the darkness that clung to me? The thought consumed me, igniting a flame within my heart that refused to be extinguished.

One day, as fate would have it, we found ourselves alone together, a rare moment of solitude in the chaos of our lives. The courage welled up within me, and with a steady voice, I spoke the words that had been haunting my thoughts.

"Hey," I began, my voice laced with a mix of nervousness and hope. "I've been wanting to ask you something. Would you... would you consider going out on a dinner date with me?"

Their eyes widened with surprise, a momentary pause hanging between us. I feared the rejection that might follow, but to my astonishment, a smile tugged at the corners of their lips.

"I'd love to," they replied, their voice filled with a hint of excitement. "I've always admired your strength and resilience, Jason. It would be an honor to spend an evening with you."

Relief flooded through me, mingled with a newfound sense of joy. It was as if the universe had aligned, granting me a chance to be closer to the one who embodied love in its purest form.

And so, as the day of our dinner date approached, I found myself counting the minutes, my heart filled with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. This wasn't just any date—it was a chance to explore the possibility of love and redemption, a chance to discover if our paths could intertwine and create a bond stronger than the forces that tried to tear us apart.

The anticipation and nerves coursed through my veins as I waited for the Star Sapphire reader to arrive at the restaurant. Every passing second felt like an eternity, and I found myself anxiously scanning the entrance, hoping to catch a glimpse of them.

And then, just like a radiant shooting star streaking across the night sky, they walked through the doors. Time seemed to stand still as I laid eyes on them, their presence captivating the entire room. They exuded an otherworldly grace, their ethereal beauty enhanced by the soft glow of the Star Sapphire ring.

My heart skipped a beat as their emerald green eyes locked with mine, a smile lighting up their face. In that moment, the worries and doubts melted away, leaving only a profound sense of gratitude and excitement. The universe had conspired to bring us together, and I couldn't help but feel blessed.

They made their way towards me, their steps filled with grace and confidence. Each movement was like a celestial dance, and I found myself transfixed by their mere presence. As they reached the table, their smile widened, filling the space between us with warmth and a touch of enchantment.

"Jason, it's so good to see you," they greeted, their voice a melodic harmony that resonated deep within me. "Thank you for inviting me."

I managed to find my voice, though it trembled slightly with a mixture of awe and nervousness. "The pleasure is all mine. I've been looking forward to this evening."

As we settled into our seats, the atmosphere seemed to shift, cocooning us in an intimate bubble. The conversations flowed effortlessly, as if we had known each other for a lifetime. We laughed, we shared stories, and with each passing moment, I discovered new layers to the Star Sapphire reader's captivating personality.

Their compassion and understanding shone through in every word, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of ease and comfort in their presence. It was as if the weight of my past was momentarily lifted, replaced by a newfound hope that love, in its purest form, had the power to heal even the deepest wounds.

Throughout the evening, my admiration for them grew, transcending the boundaries of infatuation. They were not just a cosmic entity or a symbol of love; they were a person—a beautiful, complex soul who had endured their own struggles and triumphs. And in their presence, I found solace, a beacon of light guiding me towards a future I never thought possible.

As the night drew to a close, I couldn't help but feel a tinge of melancholy. Time had flown by, and I didn't want the enchantment of our dinner date to end. But as we bid farewell, a promise hung in the air—an unspoken understanding that this was only the beginning of our journey.

I watched them walk away, their radiant energy fading into the night. My heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude, hope, and a newfound determination. I knew that whatever the future held, I had been blessed with the gift of experiencing the extraordinary love and grace that resided within the Star Sapphire.

As they walked away, disappearing into the night, an intense surge of emotions overcame me. The realization that I couldn't let this moment slip away hit me like a bolt of lightning. Without a second thought, I pushed back my chair and hurriedly rose from my seat, determination blazing in my eyes.

"Wait!" I called out, my voice filled with a mix of urgency and longing. They turned around, their eyes widening with surprise as they saw me rushing towards them.

I closed the distance between us, my heart pounding in my chest. In that moment, time seemed to stand still, the bustling city fading into the background as the only thing that mattered was the connection between us. I reached out and gently took hold of their hand, my touch sending a jolt of electricity through both of us.

Their eyes searched mine, a question lingering in their gaze. Without uttering a word, I leaned in, closing the gap between us, and pressed my lips against theirs. The world around us vanished, and in that fleeting moment, it felt as if everything fell into place.

The kiss was a revelation—a convergence of passion, vulnerability, and unspoken emotions. It spoke volumes, conveying the depths of my affection and the desire to explore a future together. The warmth of their lips against mine was both electrifying and tender, a testament to the connection we shared.

When we finally parted, a shared breathless silence enveloped us. I looked into their eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty. But all I found was a reciprocation of the feelings that had been building between us, mirrored in their gaze.

A soft smile played upon their lips, and they whispered, "I've been waiting for this moment too, Jason."

In that instant, the weight of the past and the burden of unworthiness lifted from my shoulders. The love and acceptance I had been yearning for, the redemption I thought was beyond my reach, was standing right in front of me.

Hand in hand, we continued our journey through the night, knowing that the path ahead wouldn't be without its challenges. But with love as our guide, we faced the future with renewed hope and the shared understanding that, together, we could overcome anything.

[ivystoryweaver]

Cosmic - Poe Dameron

Episode 3: The Man Who Fell to Earth previous next

Cosmic Masterlist | Poe Dameron Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Summary: Poe wants to be useful around the farm; you want him to take a break. Also he's hot. And you have thoughts about it.

Content/Notes: domestic fluff, tw food, pinch of angst

Word Count: ~2k

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It was unfair, really.

Poe Dameron was good at everything.

He learned how to drive your truck in a day. The tractor, the next day.

He had a natural intuition with animals. Even the chickens liked him.

And no task seemed beneath him either. He decided to clean the bathroom, and from there, he cleaned the half bath downstairs. Then the kitchen. He scrubbed and scrubbed until everything was shining. All in one afternoon, while you purchased feed and picked up some parts for the tractor.

He seemed willing, eager even, offering to help with a bright smile that never fully reached his eyes.

Your heart went out to him. He was a long way from home.

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“Let me cook for you tonight,” you told him the next day, “as a thank you.”

The sun dipped below the horizon as the two of you pushed back and forth in the front porch swing.

“A thank you? I’m the one who’s thankful,” he answered with the open sincerity you’d come to expect from him.

“You’ve helped me so much," you explained quietly. "You’ve gone way above and beyond. I just want to do something nice for you.”

His gaze landed on yours, captivating yet gentle. “You saved my life. I could never go above and beyond.” Nudging your arm with his, he added, “I won’t turn down a good meal, though. Can I help?”

“Poe, come on, take the night off,” you playfully scolded. “You survived a crash landing and you’ve worked every day since. Let’s watch TV or something tonight, and then you can relax tomorrow.”

A wrinkle you’d come to secretly adore formed between his thick eyebrows. “But…what would I do? I can’t do nothing.”

“You can,” you gently insisted. “Don’t you ever take time off and just do nothing?”

Poe swallowed thickly, gazing up at the sky. “I can’t remember the last time I did.”

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You and Poe had thrifted a few outfits for him, simply because he insisted you not pay for new clothes. He dressed a black, long sleeved shirt, blue jeans (which he found particularly intriguing) and boots. You got him a brush and comb, some shaving supplies and personal toiletries, so he made the effort to clean up and look presentable - a task he rarely had time or need for in the Resistance.

While he showered and took some time for himself, you changed into a simple dress, set the table and lit some candles. Then you blew them out, thinking it was too romantic. Glancing down at yourself, you darted upstairs and changed into something more relaxed. No need to try so hard and make things awkward.

Once you ventured back downstairs, you saw Poe waiting by the table, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. "Hey, I saw you lit a candle. Did I miss a prayer or something?"

"Oh. No, sorry," you sheepishly answered with a wave of your hand, feeling your face heat up as you realized how much you had been overthinking things. "I thought I would light them for dinner, but I didn't know if it was too much."

"Too much?" His eyebrows shifted curiously.

"Um, nothing. We can light them. It'll be nice," you decided, reaching for the matches. "Do you have candles on...Yavin 4?"

"We light them in memory, mostly," he explained. "My father and I light one for my mom, especially on certain days."

"Okay," you nodded. "You can light one for your mom. And I'll light one for my dad. I guess my mom too. She died when I was so young that I barely remember her."

"I'm so sorry," Poe sincerely voiced. "It's so hard to lose them. We've lost so many in the war."

You struck the match. "Then let's remember them all."

Poe's throat bobbed, his eyes glistening at your gesture. You brought the match to the candle and set it aflame before handing the lit candle to him. "Here, light the other one. For your mother. And your friends."

All you wanted was to make Poe feel appreciated during this dinner. To maybe let him catch his breath after everything he'd been through. You wondered now if you'd only managed to make him feel worse.

"I wonder if someone is out there lighting a candle for me," he softly voiced, "thinking I'm gone." He set the candle back in its holder. "I wish I could tell them how lucky I am to have landed here safely. With you."

He held your gaze for a brief eternity, one corner of his mouth finally curling as he noticed you shifting from foot to foot.

"Y-you must miss them," you sympathized, fidgeting with your hands, "war or not. Uhm, let's sit down. I want to hear all about them."

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Over dinner, Poe told you all about his parents, how they were rebel fighters against an evil Empire. He asked if Earth had anything like that. You briefly mentioned the Axis Powers and World War II. Then he went on to bring you up to speed about the First Order and the Resistance, mentioning his friends and colleges.

He talked with his hands a lot, eyes bright and animated, laughter crinkling the corners of his eyes. Now and then his gaze would catch yours across the table, candlelight dancing in them. You shifted in your chair, suddenly feeling like you were on a date.

But that was ridiculous. All Poe wanted to do was find a way to get off this planet and back to his war. You had to be more careful with your sense of attachment. With your heart.

You could see that anyone could fall in love with him. In fact, you were certain he must have someone waiting for him. Possibly several someones - hopefuls, at least. So, while he talked and talked, you started constructing a protective wall around yourself, determining to pour all your energies into helping Poe somehow get back to his life. That's how you would use the growing care and attachment you were feeling for him. It had to be for his benefit. You couldn't keep any of it for yourself. It wouldn't be right.

There was nothing for him here. And certainly nothing for you except for here.

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"Doesn't anyone help you maintain your farm?" He asked you the next day, having joined you early as you fed the animals and tended to them.

"Yes, actually, but his mother is ill back in New Jersey. He's gone for a while. And once Dad died, I sold a bunch of acres to my closest neighbor. I just couldn't maintain it all," you explained. "It's a small organic farm, but it suits me. I'm not really interested in expansion. I only keep what I can handle on my own."

"You like to keep to yourself then?" He asked with a wry grin.

The sun had climbed high, making Poe's white t-shirt cling to his chest. Without really thinking, he pushed a gloved hand through his damp curls as a drop of sweat slid down his temple.

Catching you staring, he glanced at the shovel in his opposite hand. "What? Am I doing it wrong?"

Clearing your throat, you took a step back, wiping at the sweat pooling on the back of your neck. "No. As usual, you've got the hang of it."

"Good," he grinned. "If I can take care of the horses, I hope you'll let me ride one."

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Author's note: If you haven't read it before, now would be the right moment to read or re-read "No One Like You" which would take place about right now in the story. Poe rides a horse for the first time and you share a moment together.

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You managed to actually convince Poe to take the next day off after your horse ride together, while you worked on the farm. Or at least that's what he said he would do. But as soon as you opened the screen door to your kitchen, you found him elbow deep in some sort of batter, trying to bake something.

"Hey, you're back." He flashed you a smile. "What is...Crisco?"

"Um, shortening. Like...lard? Does that make sense?" Your hands landed on your hips. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, I found your cookbook and it says that you can bake a cake for celebrations. So I decided to make a cake to celebrate."

A laugh bubbled up inside you as you searched the pantry for the shortening. "Celebrate what?"

"You let me ride your horse finally," he shrugged one shoulder, dumping a small bowl of baking flour into the larger mixing bowl, which managed to send about a third of it up into the air like a cloud.

Flour dusted his cheeks, eyelashes and the curls flopping across his forehead. But before you could admonish him, he shook his head like a dog, making you giggle.

"Hey, what does 'fold the flour' mean? Because I'm guessing it doesn't mean dump it in there like I just did."

"Here you go," you chuckled, handing him a towel, which he used to clean off his face. "Fold definitely does not mean dump it in all at once. Here, let me help."

You shook your head, amused, moving around the kitchen to collect spatulas, the electric mixer and two aprons. "If you want to bake, you have to be prepared," you said softly, turning him by the shoulder to face you. Reaching up over his dark mop of curls, you secured the apron strap behind his neck, trying to ignore the way his eyes danced over the contours of your face while you were so close to him.

"Is this thing so I won't wear the whole recipe on my clothes?"

"Yes. Turn around," you playfully ordered, spinning your finger in the air. He silently complied, allowing you to tie the apron strings at waist level. You fixed your eyes on the work of your hands and definitely not the round curve of his -

"See something you like back there, Trix?"

"Yeah, a bunch of flour in your hair. You look like a little old man, with white hair, actually."

He whirled back around. "Little?"

"Yes," you laughed, tying your own apron to your body. "You're not exactly the tallest guy in the world." Your voice grew serious. "Wait, is everyone in your galaxy super short? Am I being offensive?"

"I'm taller than you," he fired back, reaching for a spatula.

"Are you though?" You grabbed the spatula out of his hand. "Poe Dameron, why are you baking a cake from scratch when I have a cake mix in the cupboard? You are supposed to be relaxing."

"What's scratch?"

"It means cooking from like...all separate ingredients - you know what, nevermind. What are you doing off the couch? It's your day off."

"I was bored. I can't just sit around. That's not...I don't want to do that. I wanted to come and help you, but I thought I would bother you, like maybe you don't want me around all the time." He gestured around himself animatedly. "I mean, you didn't ask for any of this and the one day you want to be on your own - "

"Whoa, slow down." Setting the spatula down, you grasped his forearm. "Poe, you're not bothering me. Not at all. I just don't want you to feel like you owe me. Like you have to keep working every day with no break."

"I think..." he sighed deeply, eyes dropping to his boots. "I don't know if I can sit still for very long. With no mission, nothing to fly, nothing to fix. I'll go crazy."

Unsure of how you could have misunderstood up to this moment, you granted him a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry if I made you feel unwanted. Or bored. You can bother me all you want."

"You probably don't want to make that offer, Trix," he admonished, sliding his arm down to grasp your fingers in his, "or I'll never leave you alone."

next

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[sleepingdeath-light]

s/o who doesn’t believe in soulmates hcs ; hunter

requested by ; anonymous (26/10/21)

fandom(s) ; the owl house

fandom masterlist(s) ; main | hunter-only

character(s) ; hunter wittebane

outline ; “can i rq a hunter x gn!reader with a soulmate au? the reader like totally doesn’t believe in soulmates, yet hunter does. idk i find a soulmate au where someone doesn’t believe in soulmates to be interesting.”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff! colour/vision based soulmate au

you’d never really bought into the idea that everyone had a soulmate — someone perfect for you in every way

it just seemed so weird to attribute something as mundane as colourblindness to some cosmic force or something like that

not being able to see red just meant you had a specific type of blindness, not that you had someone out there that was made for you

which in and of itself was a bit of an uncomfortable thought

and besides nobody had red eyes so even if soulmates were a thing, you clearly didn’t have one

case closed.

and then your friend came back home with a collection of strange witches (wtf) and when you made eye contact with the tall blond one your colourblindness suddenly wasn’t so blind

red eyes.

shit

no no no

absolutely not

you did not have a soulmate

and so you started religiously avoiding him and stating in no uncertain terms that there was no such thing as soulmates and that someone there must have used their magic to cure your red-green colourblindness

even though you’d always been able to see green just fine

even though they all stated that that wasn’t how magic works

even though hunter was attesting to the fact that he has started to see (colour of your eyes) for the first time in his life

but you don’t believe it

not one bit

you couldn’t. you wouldn’t.

you categorically refused

you refused to acknowledge the way your heart tugged in your chest whenever you heard him laugh

you pushed down your smile like bile whenever you saw him grin

you pointedly ignored the way your skin heated whenever he touched you

you fought it for months until autumn became winter and the holiday season had started

not able to bring yourself to buy into this whole soulmate thing despite everything that was happening

not after denying it for so long

not until hunter finally, after some pushing from luz and camilla, met with you under the mistletoe and you shared your first kiss

and suddenly everything fell into place

and suddenly you couldn’t deny everything that you’ve been feeling for him

and suddenly you let your walls fall down and you reciprocated, clinging to his chunky knitted sweater and holding onto him for just a little bit longer

and suddenly, when you pull apart and look into his eyes, you realise that red is your favourite colour

and you’re both smiling and you thank him for waiting for you to come around

and he thanks you for accepting him

… maybe there might be more merit to the whole soulmate thing than you thought

[moonandst4rs]

"Oh, take me back to the start"

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Masterlist

PLATONIC!SAM WINCHESTER & PLATONIC!DEAN WINCHESTER X GN!READER

WC: 357

Summary: You, Sam and Dean reflect and reminisce about how things have changed

Warnings / Content: Inspired by the lyrics of Scientist by Coldplay, no use of y/n, platonic,

A/N: Any feedback and requests are welcome !! This is another one of my c.ai bots, my username is @/Moon_And_St4rs if anyone's interested.

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Sam, Dean, and you sit around the war table in the bunker, the flickering light casting shadows on the ancient maps spread across its surface. You all sat in silence, lost in your thoughts, the kind of quiet that only comes from years of knowing each other so well.

Dean, leaning back with a beer in hand, was the first to speak. "Man, remember when things were simple? Just us, a few hunts, nothing crazy. No apocalypse, no cosmic disasters."

Sam smiled faintly, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Yeah, I miss that. We were always on the road, but it never felt this heavy. You kept us grounded," he said, glancing at you. "Reminding us to slow down."

You chuckled softly. "I don’t know how I kept up with you two. But we did have some good times, even when everything felt like chaos."

Dean nodded. "Funny how back then we thought we had the world on our shoulders. Turns out, those were the easy days."

Sam sighed, leaning forward. "We didn’t know it, though. Always chasing the next thing, thinking that once we got through it, we’d be free."

"But that freedom never came, did it?" you added. "We kept moving, kept fighting… and somewhere along the way, we lost that simplicity."

The three of you sat in the quiet again, reflecting on the years that had passed. You had faced demons, monsters, even gods, yet it was the small moments you missed the most—the long drives, the late-night conversations, the fleeting sense of peace between battles.

Dean looked up at the stars now appearing in the sky. "If I could go back, just for a day, I’d relive one of those nights. No saving the world. Just us."

Sam nodded, his voice soft. "Me too."

You smiled, your heart heavy with nostalgia. "We had something special, didn’t we? The world was still dangerous, but we always had each other."

Dean raised his beer. "To simpler times."

You all clinked bottles, and for a brief moment, it felt like you were back in those days—just the three of you, and the world was quiet again.

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

[quinnnfabrgay-writes]

The Masterlist

I wanted to thank each and every one of you for the outpouring of excitement for this challenge, and the abundance of absolute talent y'all have shared with @hauntedhowlett-writes and me. I am just blown away with how y'all have taken these characters and creatures and have created these incredible stories and worlds; I could just kiss every single one of your beautiful brains!

This list will be updated as the rest of the pieces are posted. Again, please do not feel bad if you haven't posted your story yet - I know more than anyone that sometimes the creative juices just ain't there. All I ask is that you tag us when you're ready so we can love up on you and show off your work!

Also if you have already posted your piece and it's not listed here, please let me know! My notifications have been spotty lately.

THE PRETTIEST - @almostfoxglove (ghost!Max Phillips x f!reader)

Sweet Sweet Girl - @whocaresstillthelouvre (incubus!Maxwell Lord x f!reader)

bite me nicely - @jolapeno (vampire!Javier Peña x f!reader)

Like A Man Without Skin - @thischarmingmandalorian (ghost!Jack Daniels x f!reader)

Sins of the Flesh - @ak-vintage (incubus!Pero Tovar x f!reader)

fire starter - @kedsandtubesocks (dragon!Dieter Bravo x f!reader)

A Certain Fae's Melancholy - @nerdieforpedro (fae!Jack Daniels x gn!reader)

Me and the Devil - @saradika (devil!Din Djarin) moodboard, playlist, and drabble

Foretold in the Scales - @crowandmousewritingco (dragon!Marcus Moreno x gn!reader)

Two for One - @max--phillips (alien!Frankie Morales x afab!reader)

Cosmic Kiss - @clawdeewritesfanfic (alien!Joel Miller x f!reader)

shadows - @burntheedges (tentacle monster!Din Djarin x f!reader)

limits - @perotovar (minotaur!Joel Miller x m!oc/reader)

divider credit goes to @saradika-graphics