#guess its time to watch something with angel again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

geneviveleocardius · 2 days ago

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【 tokyo revengers characters as time travelers who used their power to see their future lover.

(they can only stay for 2 minutes) they can only find you because you have a red outline only they can see+ people can´t see them, not even you in your timeline.

@creamkiwiii idea. saw a video of her in tiktok, that’s her user, but with haikyuu characters and i absolutely loved it, main idea it’s totally hers, credits to her.

manjiro sano “mikey”

the second his time-jump lands him in your timeline, the glow of your red silhouette stands out in a street crowded with motionless people. he doesn’t move for a second, afraid you’ll disappear too fast if he does.

you’re walking slowly, looking at your phone, unaware that someone is staring at you with the wide eyes of a boy who just saw the sun rise for the first time.

mikey walks beside you, hands in pockets, an unreadable look in his eyes. he leans in close, watching every blink, every expression on your face.

“I thought I was too far gone to have someone waiting for me,” he whispers.

his voice trembles—he never lets his voice tremble.

you laugh at something on your phone. he smiles faintly, heart twisting.

“please wait for me.”

time’s up.

ken ryuguji “draken”

he appears in your room.

you’re doing your makeup in front of a mirror, humming softly. you pause for a moment, sensing something—but shake it off and keep going.

he exhales quietly, watching you like you’re a fragile vision.

“you’re real,” he says under his breath.

for two minutes, he leans against your doorway like a guardian angel, proud and protective, arms crossed. he watches how you carefully brush your hair, the small details.

he grins.

“she’s got fire in her eyes,” he mutters. “of course she does.”

and just before he fades, he whispers:

“you’re beautiful. I’ll find my way to you.”

baji keisuke

he spots you instantly: the glowing red silhouette in a park, feeding birds.

he runs toward you like a man on a mission.

once he’s near, he slows down and circles you like a curious cat. your hair’s messy from the wind. you keep tossing crumbs for the birds, smiling when a baby one flutters its wings.

he lets out a small laugh. “so you like the underdogs too, huh?”

he crouches in front of you, chin resting on his hand.

“you’ve got this calm thing going on,” he whispers. “but I bet there’s a storm in there too.”

before he disappears, he places a kiss in the air, just in front of your forehead.

“wait for me, trouble.”

mitsuya takashi

you’re sitting at a café alone, sketching something in a notebook. mitsuya appears across from you, invisible, but in awe.

his eyes go wide. your red outline glows against the light from the café window.

“you’re... creative,” he breathes.

he watches your fingers trace lines and curves on the page—he notices how gently you tilt your head, how you tap your pen when you're deep in thought.

“even your little habits are cute,” he murmurs.

for two minutes, he sits across from you, memorizing your every detail like a tailor studying fine fabric.

“I’ll make something worthy of you,” he says softly. “and one day, I’ll hand it to you with my own hands.”

hanma shuji

he laughs the second he sees you.

“so that’s who I’m meant to fall for?” he grins, tilting his head. “didn’t expect that.”

you’re walking through a bookstore, flipping through a crime novel. he follows behind you, boots silent, eyes sharp.

he watches you smirk at something on the page. it makes him grin harder.

“you’ve got bite, I can tell already,” he says. “I bet you’d give me hell.”

he doesn’t try to touch or speak louder. he just watches, amused and intrigued.

“two minutes isn’t enough. guess I’ll just have to cheat time again.”

takemichi hanagaki

he freezes when he sees you.

your red outline glows in the middle of a train station, surrounded by strangers who don’t see you the way he does.

his heart pounds.

“she’s real. oh god, she’s real.”

he doesn’t walk. he stumbles forward, emotional already. you’re checking the train times, yawning softly. so ordinary, so alive.

tears prick his eyes. he stands next to you, lips trembling.

“you’re more beautiful than I imagined,” he whispers. “I’m gonna do everything I can... to be worthy of you.”

and when the time ends, he places a hand near your shoulder and says, "wait for me, okay?"

kazutora hanemiya

he appears at night.

you’re sitting on a rooftop, knees pulled to your chest, staring at the stars. your silhouette burns crimson in the dark. the glow breaks something open inside him.

kazutora approaches slowly, almost afraid to breathe.

“you look lonely,” he murmurs.

he crouches beside you, mimicking your posture, inches from your warmth but unable to touch.

“I ruined so many things,” he says, voice cracking. “but... they still gave me you?”

you stretch your arms and sigh, unaware he’s beside you. a soft smile blooms on your face.

he watches it like it’s holy.

“I’ll heal myself. for you.”

chifuyu matsuno

he appears mid-rain.

you’re standing under a bus stop, watching droplets race down the glass. he sees the red outline and almost slips when he runs toward you.

“whoa—” he laughs under his breath. “that’s her?!”

he doesn’t even try to act cool. he just beams.

you pull your hoodie tighter and tap your foot, completely unaware of the boy staring at you like he just found the last page of a manga he thought was lost.

“she looks thoughtful,” he whispers. “I hope she’s warm enough.”

he stays close, hand hovering beside yours, imagining what it will feel like when you can finally see him.

“I’ll make you laugh every day. that’s a promise.”

sanzu haruchiyo

the moment he sees you, he goes dead silent.

you’re dancing around your room in pajamas, music loud, unaware of the pink-haired boy frozen in your doorway.

your silhouette glows like fire. he stares at your every movement—eyes wide, jaw slack.

“she’s...mine?”

he walks in slowly, drawn like a moth to flame. every flick of your hand, every bounce of your step, entrances him.

“no one else can see you,” he whispers. “only me.”

for two minutes, he stands in the storm of your energy, captivated and terrified.

“you're light,” he murmurs. “and I’m going to lose my mind waiting for you.”

ran haitani

he lands on a street corner during golden hour.

the sky is honey-colored.

and there you are — standing in front of a boutique mirror, fixing your lipstick with one hand and pushing your hair over your shoulder with the other.

you glow red. but you would’ve glowed anyway.

ran whistles under his breath.

“well, damn.”

he watches as you glance at your reflection. confident. effortless. you check your phone, not smiling — but your posture, your gaze, your walk — it's all fire. the kind that doesn’t ask for permission.

ran leans against a lamppost, smirking. “she knows what she’s doing.”

you take a selfie. pose. fix a tiny detail on your eyeliner. and then you laugh softly — not because anyone's watching. just because you like yourself.

his smirk softens.

“she’s dangerous,” he murmurs. “and I think I’m already addicted.”

when the time ends, he runs a hand through his hair and chuckles.

“keep shining, baby. I’m coming.”

rindou haitani

he lands outside a small street bar, neon flickering, music muffled by the city. and then he sees you — glowing red in the night.

you're walking out of the bar with heels clicking, earrings swaying, hair tucked perfectly behind one ear. a silk blouse, lipstick bold, bruised knuckles hidden in a leather jacket draped over your shoulders.

rindou stops breathing for a second.

“what the…”

you laugh politely at something someone says — then shoot a sharp glare at a man who gets too close. he backs off without a word.

you didn’t have to raise your voice.

“she’s… dangerous,” rindou whispers, watching you fix your earring in a passing mirror. “but she smells like jasmine.”

you light a cigarette with graceful fingers and cross your legs as you sit on a bench. the flame reflects in your eyes — all confidence and control. you blow the smoke upward like a queen. like someone used to being obeyed.

a cat curls up beside you. you smile down at it and stroke its head tenderly.

“you’re kind,” he murmurs. “but I bet you’ve burned people alive.”

your phone buzzes. you answer it sweetly — voice soft, silky. but your eyes stay sharp, always scanning, always reading.

“she could ruin me,” rindou mutters. “and I’d say thank you.”

the timer ends. but he stays still, memorizing the sound of your heels as you walk away into the smoke and neon.

seishu inui "inupi"

you’re at a bakery, laughing with an elderly woman behind the counter.

your red glow is soft—like a warm ember in a snowy world.

inupi’s chest tightens.

“she’s kind,” he breathes. “I can feel it.”

he doesn’t come closer right away. he just watches you, hands in his pockets, as you thank the woman and exit with a small pastry bag in hand.

you walk with purpose, a gentle bounce in your step.

he follows at a distance, like a quiet ghost. memorizing you. revering you.

“you have no idea how much I needed to see you today.”

he pauses. “I hope I’m not too broken to be loved by you.”

souya kawata "angry"

he appears in the middle of a street, rain falling softly.

and there you are — glowing red, holding a small umbrella, helping a child tie their shoelace.

his heart lurches.

you’re so… gentle.

he walks toward you slowly, like he’s afraid you’ll break. or vanish.

“Is it okay… that I’m the one meant for you?” he asks, though no one hears.

he watches the soft curve of your smile, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear.

he doesn’t cry, but his lips tremble.

“I’ll protect you,” he promises. “even if I have to fight the whole world.”

nahoya kawata "smiley"

he laughs the moment he sees you.

you're running down a sidewalk, carrying a bag of groceries that looks way too heavy for you. you trip slightly and mutter something that makes him snort.

“ahhh, she’s clumsy. cute.”

he walks alongside you, hands in his pockets, smirking. every few seconds, he tilts his head and watches you like you're a rare flower blooming in chaos.

you stop to help a cat under a bench.

his grin fades to a quiet smile.

“she’s got heart.”

he watches the seconds tick away and mutters, “I hope I’m good enough to keep that smile.”

kokonoi hajime "koko"

you’re in a flower shop, brushing petals off your sweater, softly humming.

koko stands frozen outside the glass, the red light around you reflecting in his dark eyes.

“flowers suit her,” he whispers. “she’s... delicate. expensive.”

but then he sees your hands—ink-stained fingertips, a notebook in your bag, messy scrawls.

he tilts his head.

“you’re not just pretty. you’ve got something... unpolished.”

he steps inside, walks close, eyes locked on your face. his breath catches.

“I never believed in fate.”

he stares as your smile lights the whole space.

“…but maybe I could learn.”

taiju shiba

he appears in a quiet church.

you’re lighting a candle at the altar, your red silhouette bathed in gold.

he flinches, stunned by the sight.

you look peaceful—completely unaware of the towering man standing behind you, breathing like he’s been punched in the chest.

“you’re the one god gave me?” he whispers. “after everything I’ve done?”

he doesn’t step forward.

he stays in the shadows, kneeling, hands clasped.

“you’re too good,” he mutters. “too soft.”

and yet, he can't stop watching you.

his heart, usually stone, cracks.

“I’ll pray to be the man you deserve.”

hakkai shiba

he’s shocked when he sees you.

you’re drawing chalk doodles on the sidewalk with some kids, messy and covered in color. your laugh bursts into the air like music.

hakkai stares, stunned.

“she’s… radiant.”

you make a big flower, giggle when a dog steps over it, and then gently fix it with a smile.

he walks beside you, cheeks red, completely silent.

“she’s gonna think I’m weird,” he mumbles to himself.

he wants to say something. anything.

instead, he just watches.

you stretch your arms, tired but happy.

“I’m gonna fall hard for her,” he admits, voice low. “I already did.”

kakucho

he appears near a bookstore window.

there you are inside, reading quietly, sipping tea, bathed in red light. his heart twists.

“you look like a dream,” he murmurs.

he walks slowly, like approaching something sacred.

your expression is calm—eyes full of thought. you smile faintly at the book’s ending.

he stands there for all two minutes, hands by his sides, unmoving.

“I hope I won’t ruin you.”

you glance toward the window—his direction—and pause, as if sensing something.

he swallows.

“I’ll wait for you. even if it takes lifetimes.”

shinichiro sano

he wakes up in your timeline like it's a dream.

the light is soft. you’re sitting on a porch swing, hugging your knees, eyes closed, letting the wind tangle your hair. the red glow outlines you like something divine.

shinichiro stares, silent. his breath catches.

“you’re real,” he whispers, voice trembling.

he walks over carefully, as if afraid to disturb the moment. you reach up to catch a falling leaf — laughing when you miss.

he smiles softly.

“you have no idea how long I’ve waited.”

he doesn’t speak again. he just sits near you on the steps, watching you exist.

“I hope I live long enough to deserve this.”

time ends with him whispering your name — though you never hear it.

izana kurokawa

it’s night. cold. empty.

you’re sitting on a rooftop, sketching on your arm with a pen. your red silhouette glows like a flickering candle in the dark.

izana stands frozen. the world quiets around him.

“you're… for me?”

he walks forward slowly. there’s confusion in his eyes, something like pain. you tap your foot, lost in thought, chewing the cap of your pen.

he crouches beside you, just watching. studying.

“you're not scared,” he whispers. “even if you should be.”

the wind picks up. your hoodie lifts slightly, and you hug yourself.

“I thought I was meant to be alone.”

he doesn’t cry — he’s past tears. but something inside him breaks quietly.

“If you wait for me… I’ll try to be human again.”

south terano

the music is loud. you’re in a crowded street performance, clapping your hands, laughing with a friend.

and then—your red glow appears.

south sees you across the noise, the flashing lights, and everything else blurs.

you dance a little with the beat, carefree, alive.

he’s struck still.

“no way,” he breathes. “you’re my match?”

he stalks closer, not smiling. just watching.

you pull your hair back, glance around like something caught your attention.

“you’re chaos,” he mutters. “but soft.”

his hands itch to touch, but he doesn’t dare.

in two minutes, he sees everything: your joy, your chaos, your softness.

and when the time ends—

“I’d tear the world apart to hold your hand.”

naoto tachibana

you're in a train station, watching the arrivals board, headphones on. you look calm, collected — glowing crimson in a world of grey.

naoto sees you. his breath catches like he's just found a missing file he thought burned.

he walks closer. observes. quiet.

your hands are in your coat pockets. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, glancing around without urgency.

“she looks like she knows the future,” he whispers.

you blink slowly, mouth moving — maybe you're singing along to your music.

he leans in, eyes sharp.

“why you?” he asks, like a question meant for the universe.

he studies your face like a photograph he’ll keep forever.

“maybe some futures… are worth saving.”

two minutes vanish.

and he’s already calculating how to get back to you.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

i wanna do another one of them meeting baby you, or baby them dreaming of adult future you, what do you think? pls comment;d

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secondarysefikura · 2 days ago

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Mute Cloud Au (IT IS FINISHED)

After a few weeks, Cloud was approached by professor Hojo. What the mad man wanted with him? Cloud didn't know. So, he proceed with caution. As he sat down across from the professor, the man started to ramble about Sephiroth like a he was a prized blue ribbon bull, and go on about how sad it was that he was taken too soon. Hojo also stated how he wished that Sephiroth had left a lineage behind. Cloud started to get annoyed of course wrote down, asking what his point is and what did he want. Much to his discomfort, the Professor grinned eerily. The Professor was researching the perfect genes to help create another Sephiroth, more like a child of Sephiroth (we have establish that this man has kept DNA of Seph) but he couldn't find any good matches anywhere, or so he thought. It turns out, that last check up that Cloud went to, showing some intriguing findings. turns out that being born in a reactor town gave him some interesting mutations.

Mutations showing that Cloud was able to carry and birth children.

It took Cloud a bit to understand what the mad man was indicating. At first, Cloud didn't know what to write back to him. The possibility to carry his lovers child via IVF and raised it was probably slim but deep down he wanted to try. So, with heavy heart, he agreed but with conditions. He WILL raise their child, with zero interference from anyone except for health check ups and private education when the time came. The professor agreed. Nine months later, he gave birth to their son, their perfect little one. His green colored eyes with tuff of silver with gold hue hair. Cloud named him, Matthias. Sometimes just calls him little one.

At the age of Seven, and living in a secluded cabin somewhere with his mother, Matthias was a perfect mixture of both his parents and Cloud couldn't be happier.

Of course, what they didn't know is that they are going to get a rather shocking surprise from a certain one winged angel that has been watching them for the past few days.

(its long )

I was sooo worried for a second Hojo was going to make a second Sephiroth by getting Cloud pregnant himself. But nope, thankfully he just planned to make use of some of the samples he had. And he so very kindly agreed to Cloud's terms rather than just forcing this upon him. I guess people often are better grandparents that they were parents. He doesn't have to torture the child quite so hard this time around.

There is definitely something going on with Cloud being allowed to take the child away from Shinra tower and seemingly living on his own. Perhaps Hojo suspected that Sephiroth wasn't really dead and wanted to lure him out of hiding. And what better way to do that than to have Cloud produce a child? Then you let Cloud go somewhere that isn't so Shinra-y and Sephiroth is sure to come out of hiding.

When Sephiroth does show up, it's a very happy reunion between the two. Cloud has no reason to hate Sephiroth after all, so seeing his long lost lover is a joyful experience! Sephiroth even manages to refrain from claiming that he is a god for the whole day!

He knows it's probably a good idea to start things off slow lest he scare off Cloud. You wouldn't want to scare him off when there are so many places for him to run and hide at. Plus Sephiroth noticed that he wasn't the only one watching Cloud and his child the past couple days. Some Shinra folks also seem to have their eyes on the place, reporting back to Hojo all the going ons.

Sephiroth will have to move Cloud and their child quickly, if he wants to avoid a confrontation. But then again, it would be fun to kill Hojo...

#cloud strife #sephiroth #sefikura #hojo ff7 #ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy vii #Sefikura where for once even though Sephiroth is being evil he is kind and considerate of Cloud #Cloud stays happily in the dark about things until the very last moment when he 'betrays' Sephiroth by trying to stop him #they may be in love but also NO YOU CAN'T DESTROY THE PLANET WE LIVE HERE!!!!

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im-not-a-virgo-im-a-lesbo · 2 years ago

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Uuuuuuuuuuugggggghhhhhhhhhh

#guess its time to watch something with angel again #i just want to read my bedtime stories is that too much to ask #ao3 #ao3 down

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dark-night-hero · 1 month ago

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Imagine being the non-mc significant other of lead guitarist! Sylus.

"The usual?" You have the owner a smile and a nod. "You're late, it's already the four and last set." The pub owner spoke, preparing your drink. "That's because Sylus doesn't know I'm here. It's a surprise." You wink at her.

Imagine engaging on a conversation with the owner, the one you are actually close with given the fact that Sylus and the boys were the one that introduced you to her. She was a lovely lady with a bit of mystery around her. Keeping yourself occupied as you wait for the band to come into the stage.

Imagine preoccupied with your catching up with the owner, you did not notice that they were already on the stage. It wasn't until you heard a familiar strumming of electric guitar that you knew very well who belongs to that made you pause mid sentence and look at the direction of the stage.

Imagine being excited, its been a while since you have seen the boys, let alone your lover perform, having your own lives to begin with, you were quite busy nowadays, so now is the perfect time for a surprise. You even picked up a very unique guitar pick on the way here, designed just for him. He have been complaining about his old ones, ones you are pretty sure he could easily replace, nonetheless it was as if he was giving you some sort of hint.

Imagine the way you look back at the owner, only to see some sort of complicated look on her face. Soon enough you knew why. "Honey, why you calling me so late?" You knew that voice. "It's kinda hard to talk right now." You knew that fucking voice. "Honey, why you crying, is everything okay?" It felt like the world stop, but it didn't. In fact, it continues. Painfully. "I gotta whisper 'cause I can't be too loud"

Imagine, Sylus was never the best singer. There was a reason why he was the lead guitarist and not the vocalist. But the thing is, when he tries, when he tries hard enough. He really singings well. You have heared him, even laugh at him. But of boy did you love him singing. When he sings it was always full of emotion. Like unwritten stories yet to say and unfold. Like hidden feelings waiting to be heard. He only singing when it's important. He only sings for you. Or so you though.

"It's funny that you're calling me tonight." You watch silently, at the side the way he looks in the crowd. Then his eyes soften, "And, yes, I've dreamt of you too." You knew you shouldn't have followed his gaze, you don't want to get hurt nor confirm anything, but you still did. And boy, it fucking hurts. "And does he know you're talking to me? Will it start a fight?" There he was looking at her, MC. "No, I don't think she has a clue."

Imagine, you always wonder why they broke up. They were so perfect for each other. But then again, that was all in the past? Right? You knew Sylus loves you. You knew he does, but you also knew that she was there first. Before you there was her. How could you even compare yourself to her? She was well loved my everyone, heck, even you could tell how much of a lovable person she was. That's why you always wonder, why you? Still, Sylus always made you feel like you were enough. But you aren't really sure anymore.

"Well, my girl's in the next room, sometimes I wish she was you." She laughs, exchanging words with her friend as she sat there in front, eyes never looking away at Sylus. "I guess we never really moved on." Sylus was looking at her softly, he was looking at her with something in his eyes.

Imagine you found yourself back to all those years ago. Amongst the crowd as you watch the two stare at each other. You felt like a bystander as you did all those years ago. "It's really good to hear your voice saying my name, It sounds so sweet" When Sylus sings, it holds a meaning. It means this moment, this very moment is important for him. "Coming from the lips of an angel. Hearing those words, it makes me weak."

"I need to go." You do not know why you felt awfully calm, heart beating wildly at your chest makes you wonder why. "I'm s-" You just raise a hand and smile at her. Funny it felt numb when your heart literally have broken into tiny little pieces. "I'll come back to my tab later." "And I never wanna say goodbye."

Imagine the way you slowly make it out of the pub. Your heart weighting heavily on your chest. Taking every bit of you strength to prevent yourself from crying. Dragging your feet as you walk and took a deep breath to compose yourself. "But, girl, you make it hard to be faithful." You did not look back, you don't want to. And finally, you grab a hold of the door and push it. "With the lips of an angel." And so you were out the door.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: Sana all bakasyon na, sabaysabay tayong mag dusa.

#dark night hero #live laugh love lads #lads x reader #lads imagine #lads #lads sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #sylus imagine #l&ds sylus #sylus #sylus x you #sylus x y/n #sylus angst #Spotify

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s0urw00lf · 10 months ago

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Love is in the air

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: you unknowingly give Dean another reason to fall deeper in love with you

Warning: complete and utter fluff and sam is a girls girl.

A/N: idk if anyone has done something like this, but I really loved it and I think it’s my favorite fic I’ve written yet. Also this isn’t proofread so if you see any mistakes please let me know. I wrote this at 5 am so I probably won’t notice any mistakes. Anywho hope you enjoy!!!

Today’s hunt had been a bust after you and Dean were tasked by Sam to be the cliche “couple in love” so that the envious love witch would target you instead of some other innocent couple.

So now you and Dean were in the impala driving back to the motel that happened to be about a fourty five minute drive away from the restaurant she was targeting.

The night was silent aside from the quiet music Dean had playing in the background and the light tapping of his thumbs against the steering wheel. Dean looked incredibly good in his suit and tie, a look you wish he’d worn more often.

To Dean you looked better than any angel that could grace his presence, when you exited the bathroom with your off the shoulder black form fitting dress and high heels that made your legs look like heaven, his knees almost buckled and they would’ve hadn’t it been for Sam who was there to catch him before he could.

“Hey dean?” You asked softly, drawing his attention from the empty road to you, replying with a ‘hmm’. His green eyes were extra bright in the darkness and made you want to melt in your seat.

“Can I roll down the window?” You asked, it was an odd request on your part, because you usually don’t like the pressure the harsh wind puts on your head. Dean eyebrows rose in surprise before answering “f’course sweetheart, sure it’s not gonna make your head hurt?” he asked sincerely

You shook your head “no it won’t be for long I just… want to try something” you said, pausing in thought you hoped that the feeling would push away the sadness you felt. He nodded glancing back at the road, “okay then go for it” he said with a smile.

You clicked the button to roll down the window and felt immediately relaxed. You put your arm out of the window, closing your eyes and let the wind blow on your face and whistle past your ears.

Dean watched with love in his eyes at how relaxed you looked, he could tell that the your failure to obtain the witches attention had bothered you but decided against saying anything, but as soon as the wind hit your face its like all that sadness slipped away with the wind.

You sat like that for a minute or so before deciding that was enough, you opened your eyes looking for the button again before an idea struck you. You paused in thought ‘would that be too cliche’ you asked yourself, but ultimately you told yourself ‘who cares, do it’ so you did.

You surprised Dean when you stuck your torso out of the window, he immediately grabbed on to your thigh in case you accidentally slipped. You raised your arms as the wind that was way stronger whipped past you, the air was sticky which you’d guessed was from the rain that had fell a few hours prior but you could care less.

For the first time in a life time you felt completely and utterly free, from the worries of the things that lurk in the dark, from death, and disappointment. But the feel of dean hand on your thigh mixed with the wind whipping past you and through your hair made you want to cry of happiness.

Dean watched you from inside of the car, how beautiful you looked, in that moment he was convinced you were sent right from heaven into his arms just so he could live this moment. He saw all of your worries slip away as a carefree smile graces your face. The light from the streetlight lit you up like a pop star on stage and he was your audience.

You caught him even more by surprise when you let out a loud and cheery “woooo” and it seemed like time had slowed. If both of his hands weren’t occupied he would’ve taken a picture, but he couldn’t and he would have to rely on his memory to recall this moment for the rest of his life. He wasn’t even sure how he hadn’t crashed the car.

Your heart thumped loudly at the adrenaline that rushed through your veins and that’s when you decided to get back in the car. You seated yourself back on the seat and rolled up the window before letting out the most cheerful laugh Dean had ever heard from you and just the sound itself had his heart souring. “Holy. I see why they do that in movies” you said, looking at him with the most genuine smile he’d ever seen.

Dean couldn’t help the smile that took over his features at the happiness gleaming from your face. You were glowing and it was the most precious moment of his life. “You are gorgeous sweetheart” he said, he couldn’t help that it slipped past his lips, but the look on your face showed it didn’t have much of an effect on you. You rolled your eyes, still smiling “whatever, eyes on the road Winchester, I don’t want to be roadkill because you’re too distracted” you joked. Dean huffed out a laugh in response.

For the rest of the ride the two of you basked in the happiness that replaced the previous gloom. And when you arrived at the motel, Dean was the first one out the car, rushing to your side to open the door for you. “Such a gentleman, if I’d known you’d be this sweet I would’ve let you take me on a date sooner” you joked, but Dean didn’t take it as one. “Then let me” he said genuinely.

Your smile faltered, ‘is he messing with me?’ You thought “what” you said, it was the only thing you could get out. “Let me take you on a date. A real date not one where we have to look over our shoulders the whole time. Let me take out on a date to drink champagne and eat all those fancy meals that don’t even fill you up” Dean said almost sounding as if he was begging.

Dean grabbed your hands “y/n if you let me I will go the whole nine yards. Flowers, a gift, rent a fancy car and order valet whatever you-“ you cut dean off with a kiss to which he immediately returned. The kiss was soft and sweet, you could feel his eyelashes slightly brush against your cheek, and the way he relaxed into the kiss made you swoon.

His hands dropped yours and he placed his on your hips and you bought yours around his neck pulling him deeper into it. You only pulled away because your lungs had began to burn from the lack of oxygen. Deans eyes remained closed for a little longer, reveling in the feel of your lips against his and your body pressing against him. “Woman you drive me insane” he muttered before opening his eyes.

He was graced with the sight of you smiling up at him with your arms still around his neck. “You can take me on a date Winchester, but it doesn’t have to be anything fancy. We could go to a diner in baby and I’d be just as happy” you said softly, your nose brushing his.

It wasn’t often Dean was rendered speechless, but in that moment he was sure you were made for him and only him. “O-okay” he stuttered. You giggled in amusement “have I rendered you speechless?” You teased, and deans cheeks reddened. “Maybe this will knock some words back into your head” you said before pressing your lips against his for the second time, only this time you didn’t give him enough time to recuperate.

“Hey I wasn’t done” he pouted, and you laughed loudly. Pulling away from him you closed the door to baby and began to drag him back to your shared motel room with Sam who you were sure was watching you wondering why it was taking so long for you to enter the room.

“C’mon Winchester we can talk out the details later” you said grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the stairs that led to your room.

Added bonus:

Sam had seen the blush on deans cheeks and he pure happiness in the both of your eyes. Dean quickly excused himself to the bathroom and Sam looked at you with raised brows. He’d helped you pick out that dress, telling you “Dean won’t be able to keep his eyes off of you”. You gave him the biggest smile trying to contain your excitement “it worked” you whisper yelled. A huge smile broke out on Sam’s face “I told you it would” he said.

He had been the biggest supporter of you and his brother’s possible relationship. “He asked me out Sammy” you whispered so Dean wouldn’t hear. You threw yourself on the bed like a teenager from one of those romance sitcoms you claimed to not like, but before Sam could ask for more details the bathroom door opened revealing a slightly less blushy Dean.

He eyes you two skeptically “what are you two whispering about” he asked. “Just figuring out how we’ll get the witch now” you quickly lied. If Dean suspected you were lying he didn’t show, because he immediately turned his back to you and Sam trying to get his tie off. You sent Sam a quick and subtle wink that meant ‘I’ll tell you later’ and he nodded trying to hide his smile

#s0urw00lf #dean x reader #dean winchester spn #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester supernatural #Dean Winchester x reader fluff #dean winchester fluff #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fluff #supernatural fluff #supernatural family #supernaturalfamily #supernatural fic #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester

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bluetimeombre · 3 months ago

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⤑ ★ Getting along,

You and Bucky are dating, when Bucky adopts a cat of a mission the cat and you can’t seem to get along until you do.

[if you show me Bucky and Alpine, I will show you my heart crying- I love them so much] Bucky x reader. Cat scratches. Making out but not smut. Sam is featured. Enjoy!!

You loved Bucky.

You loved Bucky more than you loved anything in the world. Your heart was completely and utterly captured by that metal hand of his. You'd do anything for him, and he would you. The both of you knew that your love went beyond any stereotype that could be created.

However...

Bucky never usually did anything without consulting you first. Although there was only the two of you in your small apartment, you were the boss- and he wouldn't have it any other way.

So when he returned from a three day long mission you wanted nothing more than to jump in his arms, smother him in kisses and assure he was well rested and un-scathed.

In fact you were a leap away from him when you noticed the white fluffy thing cradled in his arms.

"Hey Doll," Bucky sighed, dropping his bag on the ground at his feet. With the arm that wasn't clutching the white live thing, he opened it for an embrace.

You stopped and stared. "Bucky, there's a cat under your arm."

"Yeah, I guess there is," he chuckled. His arm was still raised, still waiting for you.

You were staring at the cat and you were sure the cat was staring at you. No- glaring at you. "Do you know there's a cat under your arm?"

Bucky- getting the hint you weren't going to fall into his arms- dropped it down to the cats head and started to pet behind its ear. "The thing was stuck in that warehouse I couldn't leave it. I know I should've said something but I just thought," he trailed off, looking down at the cat. "And look at her face."

"It's a she?" suddenly you were feeling very replaced. Especially as the cat- she- was still curled up in his arms where you usually were.

"I've called her Alpine, suits her you think?" and Bucky was smiling, he seemed so genuinely happy to have a small animal curl into him as if it was a safe place. The only other person who treated him as such was you.

You tilted your head at the cat and watched it blink.

Bucky slowly set her on the ground. The cat- or as you should have got acquainted, Alpine- walked around his legs, wrapping a tail around him. "I've checked the lease, we're allowed pets. Sure, we'll have to get her some bowls and cat food, tuna's fine, right? And maybe some toys."

Still, you were silent, only watching the cat as it purred against Bucky. You couldn't be getting jealous over a stray... could you.

Bucky saw you weren't talking, saw that you were looking at the cat like trying to calculate its next move. He walked over, his hands cold from the night air holding your arms. "If there's a problem we can- we can look for a foster home."

But that little light in his eyes dimmed at the very thought of giving her up already. You had no idea, this cat could have been his soul companion on that mission. She could have saved his life, so maybe you'd have to allow the way Alpine curled against his boot and looked up at you as a way of claiming.

"The cat can stay," you agreed, begrudgingly.

Just for his grin you would have agreed again and again. "You are an angel," he said.

You smile, throwing your arms around his neck as his hands fall to your hips, delighted to be pulling you in. "Does an angel get a kiss from her returned lover?"

"Hmm, only when they're good." Bucky's lips were as soft as always as he pressed them against yours slowly. There would be no mission to rush off to. No awaiting call either of you would have to flea away for. There was just you, Bucky and all the time in the world to savour the way his lips traced yours, how his tongue dared to taste-

Then came the first meow that pulled you and Bucky away from your moment. It was the first but it would in no way shape or form to be the last.

You'd never thought to box yourself in as a 'cat' or 'dog' person, but after Alpine, you were starting to wish Bucky had just found a fish.

It started with the small things, like the two of you having breakfast only for Alpine to jump up and steal Bucky’s attention.

But then Alpine got a spot in the bed- specifically- right between the two of you.

You were coming home late one night from work and wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with Bucky and sleep. So when you kicked off your shoes and peeled off your jacket, lazily making your way to the bedroom. You were about to fall down next to Bucky who was already sleeping, and arm out to your empty side, when you spotted what was under his arm.

Alpine.

"Oh no you don’t buddy," you scoffed.

She blinked up at you.

"Move." You were being as quiet as possible- you knew Bucky was a light sleeper.

Alpine meowed in defiance.

You tried to tug on the blanket, tried to get her to move it but she only showed your her fangs. "Oh that’s how you want to play it?"

Bucky grumbled. "Doll? What are you doing?"

"Fighting with your cat."

There was a lazy smile on his face. "Our cat."

"If she was our cat, she’d move so I could be with my man," you grumbled, perching on the edge of the bed.

His brows wriggled. "Your man."

Alpine still refused to move.

"Well-" he pushed himself up. "There’s an easy way to fix that."

Before you ask if it was putting the cat up for adoption, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you in until you were held in his chest and he’d pushed you onto the bed with him. He attacked you with kisses and rolled along the bed until you were stuck under him.

Of course, Alpine moved when he wanted it.

But it wasn't just sleeping Alpine was cagey about, it was anything in the bedroom. Specifically, what was reserved for the bedroom.

You and Bucky had had a very busy week, and it had only dragged. So when the two of you finally had some time alone, you only wanted to use it wrapped up in each other.

Bucky was leaning on the headboard, his hands roaming your back and squeezing your hips as you moved atop him. Both of you were still clothed, only your lips and your tongue bare against each other. The motion of cloth between the two of you only built the frenzy.

You were in no rush to be quick. Although hard and fast was fun, nothing felt better to Bucky than softly caressing your body, squeezing and rubbing all his favourite spots.

"You feel so good, baby," he mused against your lips.

You moan, tilting your head back as his lips trail down your neck. "Bucky." Your hands tangle in his hair.

"Want you so badly," he said, marking the words against your neck as his teeth pressed into the skin. "Wanna throw you on this bed and-"

There was the faintest of scratches on the door could be heard from outside. If he weren't a super soldier it might have slipped past him.

He stilled.

"No, no, no," you groaned, grabbing his cheeks and making him look at you. "You want me. You need me."

"I do, I do," he nodded, pecking your lips. "But-"

As if she knew she was winning him over, Alpine meowed.

"She's fine," you say and wriggle on his lap to get his attention. It works as his eyes close and a guttural groan rips through his throat. "Let's keep going, keep going-" you smash your lips on his and make the slow movements fast.

He groans into your lips, gently nipping your bottom lip.

Alpine meowed louder and louder.

"She sounds so sad," said Bucky.

She scratched again.

Bucky lifted you from his lap and rolled, getting out from under you and you flopped on the bed. "I'm sorry, baby, i'm sorry, I just can't hear her like that." Bucky opened the door and Alpine wondered in casually. She climbed up her cat tree that Bucky kept in the corner.

You complain into the cushion.

"Look, hey, come on doll," Bucky crawls up the edge of the bed, turning you onto your back. He pressed kisses against your clothed stomach as he worked up. "She'll see what we're up to, she'll understand and she'll leave. Then it's just you and me."

His hands slipped under you shirt, feeling you and working you up. His lips kissed you sweetly along your neck but you watched Alpine, sit upon her tower and watch the two of you, her tail going side to side.

"No," you said, hands on his shoulders. He sighed and laid flat atop you. "No, can't do it, she's staring."

Bucky's grumble vibrated your whole body. "Alpine!"

"I'm gonna have a shower," you get out from under him but his hand still held yours.

Bucky was smirking. "Can I join you?"

But the decider came at the worst time.

Bucky had gone on a mission. It was supposed to be easy, nothing big, nothing serious, just a sweep of some odd movements at a warehouse in the middle of nowhere. It had left you and Alpine for two days to try to bond. Both of you seemed to have something in common while he was gone: you both missed him.

While you slept in his clothes, Alpine slept on his cushion and there was peace for forty-eight hours.

Then Sam called, Bucky had got hurt and was in a bad way.

You'd rushed to his side, Alpine had followed you as if she understood the phone call too.

He was out cold, a blow to his head. Part of his metal arm had been damaged in the fight and there was a bandage wrapped around his other shoulder. While his eyes were closed he just looked tired, like he was sleeping it off.

But you knew better.

"Oh my god," you gasp as Alpine jumps on the bed.

"He's stable, they got most the scrap metal out his other shoulder," Sam said, lingering with you. "It's just his choice when he wakes."

It took a lot to bring down the Winter Soldier. You were terrified that his 'when' he woke would be a while.

You walk to his side, going for his metal hand when Alpine screeched and her claws quickly dragged along your skin. You pulled away with a yelp at the angry claw marks down your hand. "Alpine!"

"Woah, ok!" Sam took your hand to check the cuts.

Alpine sat on the bed, looking as if she hadn't done anything wrong.

In anger, you tried for him again but Alpine warned you with her claws.

"Damn, that cat means business," said Sam, holding you back.... from a cat.

"Get down," you try to order her, tears in your eyes. Not because her claws hurt- they did, but because Bucky, your love, was lying in bed and she wouldn't let you near him.

She didn't move.

"Why won't you let me near him!"

"Ok, ok," Sam calmed you. "I have an idea." He disappeared, hoping you wouldn't get in a physical fight with the cat while he was gone.

Your chest rose and fell with harsh breaths. You wouldn't stand for it. It was one thing having Bucky's attention, it was another interrupting your alone time but your heart was breaking and you were scared. You wanted Bucky.

"I know you love him, I do to," you hold up your hands, to show how innocent you were as you stepped closer carefully. "I know he helped you out of a rough spot, he did with me to. But he's hurting, and I just want to hold his hand."

Alpine's eyes softened.

"I love him. I love him, Alpine. He's hurting and it hurts me. I just want to be at his side, like you are."

She wasn't going for an attack as you sank into the seat. She was still listening.

You gently take his metal fingers and wrap them around your hand until it's a weight. "We can both protect him now," you tell her. Maybe it would be nice to actually have some company. "Maybe if we both team up we can stop him from going on missions all together."

Her tail swished at the idea.

You smile as a little tear fell down your cheek. "You know, I didn't like you at first, stealing him from me. But maybe you're a little like me. Would do anything for him."

She meowed in agreement.

"Can we share?"

Her agreement came in form of her giving you space. She gently padded down the bed and curled at the end next to his boot.

When Sam came in with a can of tuna to lure Alpine away, he found both you and Alpine curled into Bucky, sleeping. He smiled to himself and left the can next to you- just in case Alpine wanted to dawn the Solider title.

You didn't remember falling asleep, you only remembered fingers running through your hair softly waking you.

You smile at the feeling, hiding your face in the covers when you realised the only hands to caress you like that were Bucky's and if Bucky was caressing you, he must be awake.

"Hey, baby," he greeted with a sleepy smile when you looked up.

"Buck-" you gasp and sit up, getting as close to the bed as you could. "You're awake? Are you ok? Should I get Sam?"

He smiled at your worry, his hand cupping your cheek and running his thumb over the red in your cheeks. "Leave birdbrain out there- i've got my favourites right here."

You kissed the palm of his metal hand. "I was so worried."

"I'm ok, doll." He took your hands, holding them. Bucky intended to bring them to his lips, to kiss them when he spotted the three angry lines of red. "Are you? What the hell happened?"

Only he could be in bed, injured after a mission gone wrong and worry about a couple scratches on your body.

You smiled, confusing him further. "Alpine and I had some things to sort out."

There was a flash of annoyance in his eyes and his foot nudged the cat still asleep at the edge of the bed. "Alpine!" he hissed.

"Leave her- leave her," you tell him, holding his arm and assuring him. "We worked out her differences and realized we have more in common."

With your words, Bucky settled down on the bed again, shifting slightly so he could gaze at you. "And what's that?"

"We love you."

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b1mbodoll · 7 months ago

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GABI HOW COULD YOU POST THAT ABOUT STEPBRO JAKE YOU KNOW stepbro enha are my weakness (the thought plagues my brain ALL the TIME!!!!) and i was thinking abt it (again.. no one is surprised.. and ur post + the no doubt mv only fuelled my craziness) so. i’m gonna need to set the scene w corporate worker intern blah!jake. followed in his dads footsteps because the money is good and he’s got a knack for the math, but that doesn’t mean the job itself isn’t GRUELLING :( so when his dad marries your mom and introduces him to the sweetest little stepsister it genuinely feels like he’s been given a gift. you’re eager for a big brother to gossip with ‘n jakey’s just so accommodating and lets you sit on his thigh and babble about whatever you want as long as your pjs are thin enough that he can distract himself guessing at the colour of your panties. he can’t help himself from resting his hands on your waist and subtly repositioning you, grinning when bouncing his thigh jus’ a little has you squirming and stuttering! he definitely makes pervy comments too :( calls you his wife ‘n jokes about marrying you because coming home to you lounging in his bedroom is something that gets his slacks all tight in the front! he asks for a kiss on the cheek goodbye if you’re up early enough ‘n expects one when he gets home — you brush it off as accidental when he turns his head too fast ‘n you catch his lips instead. buys you the prettiest things and insists on spoiling you with shopping sprees that have him ruining his expensive boxers at the thought that you’re being mistaken for a couple :( like This Jake fully embodies the mean bully you talked abt in your post whenever he’s had a tough day or something you do ruins his fantasy — he likes thinking about you as his pretty little wife, not his slutty stepsister prancing about in the clothes he paid for, dolling yourself up for some stupid date! (as always, this is crazy long but i think you might expect this from me now.. also referring to me as ur angel baby did irreparable damage to my sanity gabi ‘m blushing and twirling my hair rn i cant)

— lots of love ‘n kisses, ur fairy anon

warnings: stepcest + creampies + masturbation + handjob ment. + daddy kink + orgasm denial + dacryphilia + pregnancy ment

💌: m gna eat u omg r u kidding me im so obsessed with this, my brain is melting n im drooling 😵‍💫

calls you his wife … yeah this is so… ‘m moaning. he totally would, n he’d even get u a cute little ring to wear, fantasizing about how it’d catch the light when he gets you to stroke his cock 😵‍💫 jerks off n nearly moans your name while thinking abt his cum leaking from his tip onto your ring :( maybe you’d even be a good little wife n clean them off with your tongue

god forbid you take the ring off, though! your husband stepbrother is absolutely livid when he finds out that you’ve left it on your vanity rather than keep it on for your date; n yeah its actually Very hot seein ur big brother all mad, his button up shirt undone at the top, sleeves rolled up n displaying his thick n veiny forearms, and his hair is all messed up as he plays the role of an overprotective big brother (is it in ur head or is he sounding a bit possessive?) but all you can picture is tugging on it while he fucks you, n you’re beating yourself up mentally for even thinking about your brother in that way (little do you know he needs to put a baby in you)

something you do ruins his fantasy… r u joking me.. sure this can go with the lil date idea but.. jake getting genuinely upset when you call him your brother 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 would your brother tease your virgin cunt every time he had you in his lap? or press kisses to your neck while running his hands over your thighs, daring to pull at your sleep shorts n shallowly slide in your needy little pussy? either you’re even more of an airhead than he thought, or you enjoy watching him struggle to maintain his composure because there’s no way you dont know he wants you

he would absolutely love the two of you being mistaken for a couple n jakey’s quick to speak over your denial, a sweet smile on his face as he replies with a “thank you” to every person that calls you two a cute couple <333 when you ask abt it he just kisses your cheek (a bit too tenderly to be in a stepsibling kind of way) n says its just “too much of a hassle” to correct everyone… n even asks you if it’s such a bad thing for people to think he’s ur bf… are you embarrassed of him?

when jake finally gets you desperate enough for him, he has so much fucking fun making you say filthy things n has even more fun watching you squirm at his dirtytalk.

his pace is unbearable, you’re unable to do anything but take it as he batters your cervix with his fat cock n manipulates your body, pushing n pulling your legs to feel you even deeper. “d’you like havin’ my cock inside your tight cunt? does it feel good, princess?” he questions, voice thick with arousal.

but you’re too fucked out to reply, of course you like it but there’s no way you can form a coherent sentence as he keeps up the brutal pace, his tip hits your cervix with every thrust n he’s relentless. you’re so close, so fucking close and…

oh. it’s gone. your impending orgasm fades and it has your face crumpling, tears pouring down your cheeks at the lack of stimulation. why’d he stop? why why why why wh-

“i asked you a question, angel. y’gonna be a good girl n answer me?” a sniffle from you, and then: “jakey! please don’t stop, ‘m sorry ‘m sososo sorry please fuck me! pleaseplease it feels so fuckin’ good! love my brother’s cock so much-“ he cuts you off with a harsh slap to your tit, a sneer forming on his face at your surprised gasp.

“‘m not your fuckin’ brother. god,” he laughs humorlessly. “am i gonna have to fuck you until you get it through your dumb little head?”

jake pinches your nipple between his fingers n twists it enough to cause a jolt of pain to shoot through you n make your walls clench around him. “i’m not your brother,” he thrusts into you harshly with each word. “‘n you’re not my fucking sister, got it?”

your bottom lip trembles, eyes screwed shut with pleasure as he resumes fucking you n jake’s brain is foggy, he can’t believe he’s ballsdeep in your pussy n before he knows it, he spills his deepest desire to you

“you’re my wife,” jake sighs, pressing his forehead to your own. “say it. say you’re my wife.. my sweet little wife, god look at you. takin’ my cock so well, ‘s like you were made for me”

it’s not long before your orgasm builds yet again, white hot pleasure consuming you n his words send you over the edge, pussy spasming n clamping down on his thick cock until you cream around him.

“‘m your wife, jakey! ‘m your wife, yourwife yourwife, fuck. fill me up, knock me up, jakey.” you wraps your arms around him to pull him close, pressing your lips to his ear before whispering, “‘m gonna make you a daddy.”

jake cums with a deep, guttural groan, his teeth clenched as thick, hot cum spurts from his cockhead and fills your womb to the brim. legs wrap around his waist to keep him inside you n it takes him a second to realize your lips are moving n you’re talking to him. “sorry princess, what’d you say…?”

you giggle n bat your lashes up at him, still wet from your tears, i said, “do you wanna go again?”

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astridthevalkyrie · 8 months ago

Text

“You think people ever look at us and wonder why you would be with me?” Rafayel had frozen in place, his hand mid paint stroke as he gazed down at you from his ladder. You’d been curled up on the couch, watching him comfortably while your thoughts took a depressing turn that was anything but comfortable. “No,” he’d said, “absolutely not. No one in their right mind would think that.”

contains: afab reader, edging, rafayel making reader praise themselves, rafayel speaks in hindi, probably ooc and with grammatical errors sorry i wrote this all in like one hour at 10 PM and i was crying for half of it

it's been a while since my own insecurities have actually given me the creative kick to write something like this, so sucks to be insecure i guess, but yay fic!!!!

Insecurity. What a bitch.

It’s life-ruining, at its worst. It makes you look into the mirror and imagine even the reflection looking back and sneering at what it sees. It makes your heart pound as you walk in public, wondering how many people would smile once they get the privilege of losing sight of you. It makes you sob at night when you’re alone, mind knowing that there is no one in the world who is uniquely terrible, but your heart convinced that you’re the exception.

It makes you say something, accidentally, to your boyfriend.

“You think people ever look at us and wonder why you would be with me?”

Rafayel had frozen in place, his hand mid paint stroke as he gazed down at you from his ladder. You’d been curled up on the couch, watching him comfortably while your thoughts took a depressing turn that was anything but comfortable.

“No,” he’d said, “absolutely not. No one in their right mind would think that.”

If you’d been more acute in the moment, you might have heard the warning in his voice, the irk of a god who has just had his most precious jewel taunted.

But you’d continued instead. “They would. You’re so handsome, so gorgeous. Ethereal. Not to mention incredibly talented. And I love you, and I think we’re really compatible personality wise, but looks…you have to admit you could do a lot better.”

It was then you’d began to note how it felt much hotter in the studio than it had a few minutes ago. Like there was an unseen furnace, prickling with an angry fire about to grow into an inferno.

Rafayel’s voice had been, ironically, icy. “How could I do better than you?”

“C’mon, be real, Raf.” It had been hard to keep the pain out of your words, and impossible to keep the thoughts choking you inside. You’d started to plead, some part of you convinced that it would help if he would simply agree that your every insecurity was valid. “I’m not a supermodel. I’m not a genius. I’m not an angel, either. There’s nothing about me that’s extraordinary. Not like you are.”

And then he’d moved.

And now, you’re still on the couch, crying out brokenly with nothing to grip onto, as his hand holds your wrists above your head, and his cock thrusts in and out of you in the most maddening pace you’ve ever experienced.

He’s never been like this. When you plead, Rafayel gives in. He is weak to you, as he’s shown time and time again. But not today. No matter how much you beg with teary eyes for him to go faster, he shakes his head, slowing down even more. With a punishing growl, he pushes all the way in, and all the way out, leaving your drooling cunt clenching around nothing.

It’s torture. Pure and simple.

“What was it you said?” he breathes harshly, leaning down to press hot kisses on your neck that burn so perfectly you sob. “Ethereal? Talented? A supermodel?”

“Rafayel,” you gasp. He ignores it. His eyes are a violent shade of purple, the most dangerous you’ve ever seen them. There are scales blooming all over his body, as though denying you is the key to awake this dormant side of him, to make you submit.

“I’ll give you what you want,” he whispers, biting and leaving a fresh bruise planted on your skin. “Just tell me what I want to hear. Go on.”

He pulls out and you feel the tears running down your cheeks.

“Say, ‘I’m beautiful.’”

In.

“Say, ‘I’m gorgeous.’”

Out.

“Say, “I’m fucking ethereal.’”

You can taste salt from your own sobs, both from being denied, and from the unimaginable cruelty of having to praise yourself. It’s impossible. You want the reward so bad, but you can’t claw your way to it, because the rules are too imposing. The conditions, blinding.

“Be real,” he taunts, repeating your own words back to you, “come on, start easy. ‘I’m pretty.’ Go on.”

Heaving in a breath, you taste the bitter words on your tongue. “I-I’m pretty.”

Your back arches off the couch as he rewards you with his fingers on your clit, rubbing soft circles while he’s inside you. “Mmhm. You are. And?”

“Please, Rafayel.” You’re clenching so tight around him, and you can see from how he shudders that it pains him just as much as it pains you, this wait, this little game of keep-away. “Please don’t make me—“

You’re cut off by his hand cupping your cheeks, and his lips stealing a salty, breathless kiss. “Meri pyaari gurya,” he groans, kissing you again, “meri chand.” Kiss. “Meri humsafar.” Kiss. “Mine, mine, mine.” Kiss, kiss, kiss. "Do you think I keep anything that isn’t worthy of the Sea God?”

You shut your eyes, crying harder. The logic is loud, but your thoughts are louder. He’s only saying it to reassure you, he’s only saying it to be nice, he’s only saying it because he pities you…

“Meri dulhaniya,” he saves for last, because he knows it’ll break you, “I have nowhere to be. I’m fine staying buried inside you, all day and all night, while your sweet little pussy gushes for me. I’ll bring you to the brink, again and again, but I won’t let you cum, my pretty muse, because either you admit that you’re the most beautiful human in this world, or I’ll fuck it into you till you forget otherwise.”

Trembling, you open your eyes. There is nothing but conviction in his gaze. Conviction, and hunger.

And you realize two very important things. One, that your stamina is nothing compared to his, and you will never hold out against him, and two, that is not something one does out of pity, but out of unyielding, undying adoration.

“I’m,” you swallow, cheeks burning, “beautiful.”

A sharp thrust of his hips makes you moan his name, mouth falling open as he kisses you deeply, and you swear you can feel him hardening even more inside you.

“I’m gorgeous.”

“Yes,” Rafayel hisses, fingers rubbing your clit to match his thrusts.

Eyes rolling back, you cry out, “I-I’m…”

“Fucking ethereal,” he provides, and you think you can feel fire flicking from his lips on your cheeks.

“Fucking ethereal,” you whine, pulling him into a kiss this time.

His hips slam against yours and you cry out against his mouth as his tongue ravages yours. There is nothing Rafayel hates more than someone misunderstanding his art, least of all the art itself.

Your toes curl and your nerves are electrified, everything fading away except you and Rafayel, and his cock and his fingers and his lips, and the couch he’s pounding you into, and you tug at his hair and practically scream as you cum.

He’s still softly licking at your lips as you come down from your high, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. The air escaping you is light, and for the first time in a long time, there is nothing stuck in your chest, a soft fluttery feeling replacing the heaviness that you’ve been carrying what feels like your whole life.

Gazing back up your lover, you cradle his face, noticing that his lovely purple hues have morphed into an even lovelier pink, only a second before you notice he hasn’t cum yet.

“That’s a good start,” Rafayel whispers, capturing your lower lip between his teeth and tugging.

It bounces back into place for him to kiss softly, before he continues, “Now, let’s try ‘most beautiful human in the world.’ If you get there, I might consider letting you have a break.”

#love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel smut #lads smut #l&ds #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x mc #rafayel #valkyrie stories

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synvil · 5 months ago

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How Could I Forget? // Rafe Cameron

a/n : happy valentine's day <3 i hope you all have a wonderful valentines day, whether its by your lonesome, with gals or with your partner !

synopsis : You're starting to think Rafe won't ask you to be his valentine, much to your dismay, but he proves you wrong.

Valentine's Day.

The past few days leading up were pretty lonely nights, Rafe was always out on business or running errands and when he would make it home, you’d already be asleep or he’d be exhausted.

Even on days off, he tends to be preoccupied and it was hard to spend much time with him. But being the understanding girlfriend you were, you couldn’t really be upset at him. Rafe was hardworking, efficient and you had no choice but to let it go.

But with this being such a romantic holiday, you were really hoping he would be free and you could spend the day together.

Especially having Rafe ask you to be his valentine.

It’s stupid. You know it is. Yet something about the effort of still having your partner ask you to be their valentine despite already being together, is so romantic and cute and you just want to experience it.

Exiting the bathroom, you ruffle your wet hair with a towel after taking a hot shower, and exhale gently.

“Hey, babe,” As you reach the kitchen, Rafe strolls over and presses a kiss to your forehead, before walking back to the fridge. “Hey.” You smile and greet him back as you step towards the island and watch him. “Are you busy today?” You ask, tilting your head with a hum as you tap your fingers against the countertop, feeling your chest ache with excitement to spend time with him.

“Yeah, I have to run some errands and talk to Barry about some things.”

Immediately the sinking feeling pulls into your chest and you do your best to hide the disappointment lacing your eyes. "Oh.. You can't just take a day off to spend time together today?"

Rafe turns from the fridge after pulling out milk to put into his rather large tumbler mug of coffee. You notice he's been drinking a lot more coffee lately, on top of being so exhausted the last couple nights. He shares a half-apologetic smile as he pours in the dairy into the cup. "Sorry, it's important. But hey, Sarah and Kie said they were going to take you out today. Why don't you spend some time with them?" He secures the lid on both containers before setting the milk back into the fridge.

Your shoulders slump as your lips curl into a faint frown and you nod meekly in understanding. "I guess.."

Rafe notices the dejected expression over your face and purses his lips. He leans over the counter from across from you and tucks a strand of your wet hair behind your ear before cupping your chin to look up at him.

"Don't be sad, baby, I'll be done before you even realize."

Still, your eyes didn't meet his and he moves to cup your cheek. "I'll drive you to meet them before I go, okay?"

Managing to muster a small smile, you just exhale and stand up. "I'll go get ready then." You mumble and Rafe frowns, watching you excuse yourself to the bedroom. He exhales quietly, reaching into his wallet and pulling out his card before going over to the rack by the door where your purse hung.

He tucks his black card into your purse pocket and then pockets his wallet again before going back to his coffee to drink. “Hopefully that’ll cheer her up for a bit.”

“Be safe. I love you, angel.”

You sigh softly as you recall Rafe’s last words before he dropped you off.

Hearing your sigh, Sarah leans forward from her seat. “What’s up with the sad sigh?” She tilts her head and you blink, before frowning slightly. “Hey, did the guys do anything for you girls today?” You can’t help but ask out of curiosity, feeling the pang in your heart.

The two were surprised to hear the question and Sarah seems to understand what the problem was, and instead offering a sympathetic smile your way. “Yeah, tonight John B is taking me out to the beach to look at the stars and a picnic on the sand.”

Kie nods along, adding her own input. “JJ and I are chilling at his place with romantic comedies and snacks.” she shares and you purse your lip.

“but they did specifically ask you to be their valentine, right?”

Kie and Sarah share a glance before nodding a bit hesitantly. “Did Rafe not ask you yet?” Kie furrows her brows and you force your eyes down at your half eaten red velvet cupcake in dejection. “I barely even spent any time with him the last couple days. He’s been busy.”

Sarah can’t help but feel sorry for you, averting her eyes away from you as she reaches for your hand to hold. “I’m sure he’s planning something tonight. Don’t worry, okay?”

Kie scrunches her nose at the thought of Rafe. “Maybe. But let me know if he doesn’t, then i’ll whoop his ass.” Kie clenches her fist and you can’t help but chuckle, nodding at them. “We’ll see.”

After a few minutes, you decide to pay for your snacks, waiting until the topic moved on.

Excusing yourself, you slowly stand up and head to the counter of the small cafe you were in and decide to pay, reaching into your purse for your card.

“?”

Your brows furrow when you pull out a loose card outside of your wallet and recognize the black card to be Rafe’s. Your eyes widen in surprise before a faint smile laces your lips and you tap the card against the machine to pay before heading back.

As you wait for their conversation to finish, you grin at the girls and flash the card towards them. “Ready to go ladies?”

Sarah’s eyes light up at the sight and she beams. “Rafe’s card?”

“Yep. He must’ve snuck it into my purse.” You laugh a bit and Kie smirks. “Well, it’s our card now.”

The three of you share giggles. “Now let’s go shopping, and get you girls some cute outfits.”

“You’re getting one too.” Sarah winks as the two immediately stand and pull you to your feet.

“Wha-? But i’m not doing anything—“

“doesn’t matter!” Kie grins as they drag you over to the nearest store.

“Have fun tonight ladies!”

Sarah and Kie blow a kiss your way as you wave to them. “Happy Valentine’s babe!” Sarah winks as she calls out from the car. “You have fun too, sexy!”

An awkward smile builds on your face as you look at her in confusion, but she’s already driving away before you could inquire.

You shrug it off before heading to the front steps of the house and enter, dusting off your new red a-line silk dress that ended at your knees, that Sarah and Kie insisted you buy.

Even though you had a better time than you originally thought, you still couldn’t help the sadness that builds when you remember you didn’t have much waiting at home for you.

Sighing, you shut the door behind you and kick off your heels before stepping into the living room, surprised to see Rafe home.

“Hey, welcome home baby. How was your time with the girls?” Rafe immediately stands from the couch and you chew on your inner cheek and shrug weakly. “Fine.. I didn’t even know you were home.”

Rafe smiles as he looks at your new dress. “You look stunning baby. I see my card was put to good use.” He teases as he walks over to you and goes to wrap his arms behind your waist as he kisses your cheek. “Yeah.. thanks.”

He notices your quietness and distant behavior and furrows his brows. “Baby?”

Hearing him call you, you pout and look away, feeling all the emotions of sadness and disappointment from earlier returning in a rush. Rafe was home but he wasn’t texting you at all and if he’s been home, why did he send you away when you could’ve spent the time together?

“oh? is something wrong, sweetheart?”

Letting the pout grow further on your lips, you wipe your stray tears that began to brim your eyes and shake your head. “It’s nothing.. I just want to go to bed.”

Rafe stops you and spins you to face him, his hands on your shoulders. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

You finally look into his eyes and sniffle. “You’re such a jerk.” You harshly spat, taking him aback. “What—?”

“The least you could’ve done was say ‘Happy Valentines Day’ to me or something today. You didn’t ask me to be your valentine, or to spend time with me or got me a gift. You gave me your card by sneaking it into my purse instead of handing it to me, and i had to buy my own gift with it! And the past couple days we hardly even spent any time together because you’re always so busy with Barry and your business..”

You couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down your cheeks or from your words from spilling out your emotions but you were overwhelmed.

Rafe is stunned into silence for a moment, feeling his heart ached when he hears you explain. After another minute though, he speaks again.

“…I didn’t know this was such a big deal to you, angel.”

“Of course it is.. it’s a romantic holiday and you forgot.” You huff and Rafe lets his lips curl into a small smile as he reaches up to wipe your tears.

“Come here.”

He reaches down for your hand and intertwines your fingers with his and pulls you into his bedroom.

“I’m sorry for not giving you proper attention lately.” He whispers and pecks your temple before letting you open the door.

And the sight makes you gasp.

Every inch of the room, it’s completely covered in rose petals, pink and red balloons and as well as a bed covered in various gifts and snacks, such as charcuterie and chocolate covered strawberries for you, and a small board spelling out, “be my valentine?”

“How could I forget, baby?” Rafe murmurs as he watches your reaction with a soft smile and brings your hand up to his lips to kiss the back of it.

You’re speechless, unable to say anything as you stare at it all. The bed covered in gifts were from various stores you’ve been looking at recently, but you never had the chance to talk to Rafe about buying any of it.

“I… how did—“

Rafe exhales heavily as he looks over at the presents. “I had to talk to Sarah for hours and talk to the owners of these companies and stuff to get the right gifts and the best ones. I figured Sarah would know best about what you’ve been wanting.. And then I had to order all these rose petals and—“

You let out a small laugh, unable to do much else as you listened to him explain the reasoning for his distance the last few days. You’ll have to make a mental note to thank Sarah later.

“Wow.. i.. thank you, Rafe.. I’m sorry I..”

Rafe interrupts you with a soft kiss on your lips. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry too, angel.” You wrap your arms around his neck and smile, as his hands place themselves at your hips. “And I mean it, you look absolutely beautiful in this dress.”

"And since I neglected you today.." Rafe grins as he kicks the door shut behind him and pulls you to his chest by the waist.

"Why don't I spend this weekend making it up to you, yeah?"

a/n : agh this shouldn’t have taken this long, i’m sorry. i’m still recovering and going through a lot but please enjoy this! unedited.

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mylovesstuffs · 1 month ago

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even hell had a heart || lucifer!joshua

outline. you prayed every night not to fall in love with the wrong person, until—he showed up. he says your name like a forbidden prayer. “even your god can’t hate me more than i hate myself for wanting you.” you don’t kiss; just stare, and that feels holier than sin. /// svt 10th anniversary; a reincarnation love anthology

genre: supernatural au, religious/dark fantasy au, romance, slow burn, angst with emotional intimacy, psychological drama, forbidden love

pairing: lucifer!joshua × human fem!reader

content: bittersweet/hopeful ending, lucid-dreamscape/metaphysical elements, gothic spiritual tone, religious symbolism and imagery, prayers as narrative devices, longing and restraint, shadowed pasts and emotional healing, watching-from-afar/guardian dynamics, intimacy without physicality, dream visits and blurred reality, sanctuary as symbolism, mutual yearning and unspoken love, strong mother-daughter bond, confessionals and breakdowns, subtle faith crisis, psychological tension with metaphysical layering, suppressed desire, restraint over romance, near-kisses, forehead touches, temple kisses, somewhat possession imagery, protective lucifer trope, intimate physical closeness, reader finding comfort in the “wrong” being, shadow vs light metaphor used emotionally and spiritually

warnings: religious themes and christian symbolism, spiritual trauma/conflict, possession-like states (chanting, pressure, trance), mentions of past emotional and physical trauma (implied sexual trauma, abandonment), psychological horror imagery (dream sequences, altar bleeding, glowing eyes), mentions of self-doubt, crisis of faith, emotional breakdowns, mild sensuality (no smut but heavy emotional tension and intimacy), mentions of mental health (breakdowns, hallucination/delusion implications), light swearing/cussing, fire, blood, and dark imagery, angels vs lucifer conflict, reader's isolation and vulnerability, reader’s faith being shaken and questioned

a/n: this is the first installment of my series svt 10th anniversary; a reincarnation love anthology! i think i re-edited it to check for my usual silly mistakes… but honestly? i don’t remember anymore 😭 so let’s just call it partially proofread [because i truly don’t know if i finished or not]. i actually finished writing this a while ago, but then completely forgot about it and didn’t get the time to schedule this or the next parts properly. so here i am—posting it directly... please forgive any dumb typos or weird phrasing. i promise the next installments will be properly proof read [will try my best]—this is just my “i-did-my-best-but-my-brain-forgot” edition. hope you’ll still enjoy it despite everything!

Happy 10th Anniversary, SEVENTEEN! even though i’ve only been a carat for 7 months, it feels like i’ve known you forever. in this short time, you've become such a big part of my life—your music, your passion, and your bond with each other have brought me comfort and happiness in ways I can’t explain. thank you for giving your all for the past decade. thank you for being the light in so many people’s lives, including mine.

word count: 7,033 words

taglist: @i-am-confused-about-life @supi-wupi @shirebusking @ateez-atiny380 @jrinbb @thepoopdokyeomtouched @purploozi @reiofsuns2001 @xuhaosgirl @markoplolo @livelaughloveseventeen @dcrlingyou @chanranghaeys @https-seishu @mrsjohnnysuh @iknowimanicon @lavichyne636 [oranged marked blogs can't be tagged :(]

It all began on a day so ordinary, no one could have guessed how quickly everything would change.

The sky wore its usual color that neither blessed nor cursed the earth beneath it, merely watched, indifferent. You had just left the chapel, your palms still damp from prayer, from pleading with something higher than yourself to protect you from falling in love with the wrong person, again. Your footsteps echoed across the worn cobblestones as if the world were hollow, waiting to be filled with something that would either save you or break you, and when you saw him standing at the edge of the alley, half-shadow and half-light, everything inside you paused—breathed in too deep—then forgot how to breathe out.

A man, looking too good to be true, stood there like he had stepped out of someone else's legend, but ended up in your story, looking right back at you. It wasn't even a glance, or a curious flick of the eyes. He looked at you as if he was reading you line by line, like each breath you took was a word in a sentence he already knew by heart. The air shifted, slightly heavier, as if it, too, recognized him.

He didn’t smile right away; that came later. That devastating softness, the lift of lips that belonged on a saint but bled like a sinner's. At that moment, he only looked, as if he already knew you, as if he had seen your soul laid bare on an altar, trembling under the weight of its own guilt, and for reasons that would never make sense, your first thought wasn’t fear. It was familiarity. The echo of a hymn you once heard in a dream, sung in a language your body remembered but your mouth could never speak.

Your throat was dry, and you weren’t sure why. You took a step back, or maybe forward, you couldn’t tell anymore. And still, he said nothing, but just watched with his unwavering gaze fixed on you.

You swallowed. “Do I… know you?”

His head tilted slightly, just by a fraction, like he was listening for something only he could hear. A lie you hadn’t told yet? Then, finally, he spoke. “Your name,” he said quietly, as if it were too holy for the noise of the world, “it’s…” he stopped. You waited for him to continue and not leave in this space of suspense, but he looked at you like he was afraid of finishing the sentence. “It’s yours,” he said, finally. “But it sounds like mine when I say it.”

“What?”

He didn’t have to repeat it, and he didn't. The way he said your name, it didn't sound like just a sound. It was a remembering. It was sorrow and longing tangled into syllables that felt like a prophecy gone wrong. He only just said your name, it shouldn't be a big deal, but it was a big deal because it sounded like a confession. Like he wasn’t supposed to know it, like it had been carved into the walls of his ruin a long time ago and he had spent centuries pretending he had forgotten it.

You felt something curl in your chest. It felt very tight and ancient. “I never told you my name,” you whispered.

“No,” he said. “You didn’t have to.” He said it again, “yn,” like a prayer he wasn’t allowed to say out loud. He took a step closer, “I thought I forgot it.”

Your voice was a breath now. “And?”

“And I was wrong.”

Something about the way he said it made your fingers curl into fists, like your body was preparing for a storm it had already survived once. “Who are you?” you questioned again, but he didn’t answer that.

Instead, he asked, “Do you remember me?”

Silence stretched between you while you tried to think of something to say. You feel defeated even though you have no reason to be.“I—” you hesitated. The shape of the answer was in your chest, not your mouth.

And then that soul-fracturing smile finally resurfaced again. You didn’t know you’d been waiting for it. “I knew it,” he whispered. “You don’t know why yet… but you will.”

Your breath hitched that you didn't even realize you’d been holding it. Something inside you stirred like a shadow shifting beneath a locked door. You didn’t know this man, and yet, everything about him felt like déjà vu whispered into your bones. His presence was a verse you'd underlined in some forgotten scripture. You just couldn’t remember where. “You’re scaring me,” you said quietly, but your voice didn’t tremble the way it should have.

“I don’t mean to.” His eyes softened. “That’s the last thing I want.”

“Then tell me who you are.”

He hesitated as a storm passed through his expression, it was grief, maybe, or regret, or something older than either. “I was someone who loved you.”

Your lips parted. “Loved?”

He met your gaze. “Still do,” and he said it like it was a curse, like loving you had cost him lifetimes.

You took a step back, instinctively, but something tethered you there. Some invisible thread humming between you both that didn’t ask for belief. It simply was.

“I don’t—how?” You searched his face, desperately, for answers. “How can you say that? We’ve never met.”

He gave a slow, bitter smile. “Haven’t we?”

The wind picked up, brushing past you like it, too, carried memory in its folds. “You’re lying,” you said, “or I’m dreaming.”

“Maybe both,” he replied. “Maybe neither.”

Your hands were trembling now, but it wasn’t from fear. It was something else; you just couldn’t name it. You looked away, trying to steady yourself from whatever creepy shit he was spewing.

He took one cautious step closer. “I waited. I waited longer than I knew was possible. And when I stopped waiting… I started forgetting. Not you though—but what we were.”

You looked up at him again, your voice brittle. “Then why now? Why remember me now?”

He paused before saying, “because you called me back.”

A silence fell between you again, which was thick, reverent. Your chest felt too tight, your thoughts too loud. “I didn’t call anyone,” you said, but it sounded unsure even to your own ears.

“Maybe not with words,” he responded, “but something in you remembered. Some part of you… still aches for me.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

A pause again as he looked at you like that was the final heartbreak. “Then let me earn it back.”

And in that moment, time tilted, something opened inside you, around you. Like the memory of something sacred being reawakened. Your footsteps faltered once, twice, and before instinct took over, you turned on your heel and ran.

The hem of your coat fluttered behind you, your breath catching in uneven gasps. Gravel crunched beneath hurried steps, and the distant glow of the main road flickered. Your heart slammed against your ribs as you glanced back over your shoulder, eyes scanning the path behind you to see it, empty. He’s not following you. You don't know if that makes it better or worse.

Your fingers, trembling and cold, flagged down the first cab you saw. The car jerked to a stop beside the curb. You threw open the door, nearly stumbling in as you rush inside.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“17th street, Park Road C,” you muttered, giving the address in a voice that didn't sound like your own.

The door slammed shut, and the cab lurched forward. Streetlights blurred past like holy candles left out in the rain. With fingers still shaking, you pulled out your phone and called your mom. She answered on the second ring.

“Sweetheart?” Her voice was lined with surprise, then worry as you greeted her with a trembling voice. “Is everything alright?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you managed to speak out, “I’m coming over,” you said quickly. “I—I just need to be home. I’ll explain when I get there.”

“What happened?” she asked, her tone was turning sharp and maternal. “Your voice—are you crying?”

“No, I’m not,” you lied. “Just… I need to see you.”

You hang up before she could ask more, and the ride was quiet. Your mind was not.

Every time you close your eyes, you see him. The way he looked at you; like he knew your sins by name, like he forgave them anyway.

By the time the cab stopped in front of your mother’s house, you threw cash at the driver with fumbling fingers and left without waiting for change—you, who would argue over ten cents, but right now, none of that mattered.

She’s already at the door when you arrived, concern written all over her face. Her eyes took in your disheveled hair, the sheen of sweat still clinging to your skin, the way your chest rose like you’ve run from the devil himself.

“Oh, my baby,” she breathed.

You fell into her arms, and she immediately drew you inside. She didn't even ask—just took a towel from the kitchen, gently patting the sweat on your forehead, your cheeks. Her hands were cool, calloused from years of care. Her touch was the closest thing to sanctuary you’ve known.

Once you're seated on the old floral couch, she kneeled in front of you, still holding your hand. “Tell me,” she urged with motherly love and caution. “What happened?”

And you listen to her urge as you always do. You tell her about the chapel, about the man who looked at you like a psalm remembered, about the way he said your name like it had been carved into him, about the fear, the familiarity. The strangeness of it all.

She listened in silence, then, wordlessly, she stood, pulled out her Bible from the cabinet and sat beside you. She opened to Psalm 91, the same passage she used to read when you were afraid of thunder. “Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty…” Her voice was steady, and each verse a balm poured over your shaking soul. “Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day…”

You closed your eyes, your head rested against her shoulder. You wanted to believe the words, wanted them to fill the empty place inside you that opened the moment he looked at you. And yet… How did he know your name? You keep telling yourself it’s a coincidence. Some cruel trick of the universe, but the tightness in your chest refuses to ease.

The whole day, it lingered like the aftertaste of smoke in a holy place.

By evening, you asked her, “Can I stay here tonight?” Your voice broke on the last word.

Your mother, alarmed, cupped your face. “Of course. You never have to ask. But… what’s happening to you, sweet girl?” Her eyes searched yours. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

You shook your head, unable to explain.

Later, you retreated to your childhood room. Everything’s smaller now, dustier. The wallpaper faded, the bed too short, but the air smelled of lavender and old memories.

You begin your nightly ritual.

Knees to the floor, rosary between your fingers, beads sliding like rain through trembling hands. Bible open in your lap, the spine falling naturally to Isaiah 43.

"Fear not, for I have redeemed thee. I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine." You whisper prayers through clenched teeth, through breaths that shake and falter.

You mouth verses between silent screams. Words crash into the hollowness inside you like waves against cathedral stone. You don’t ask for peace; you ask for forgetting. You open your eyes, and he’s there.

Standing by the edge of your bed like he never left the chapel; as though time itself had bent backward to let him in.

You freeze, trembling from the marrow outward, the chill crawling up your spine like a ghost pressing its lips to your nape. The blood drains from your face, your ribs forget how to expand, as the rosary drops from your hand.

You gasp, voice strangled with fear, stumbling back as your knees knock against the side of your bed. “You��how did you get in here?” Your fingers tremble as you reach blindly behind you, grabbing the Bible you had just been praying over moments ago. You grip it tight against your chest, its cover warm, as though your desperation had set it alight.

Heart hammering, you inch backward toward the window, hand groping for the latch, the scream clawing its way up your throat like a creature trying to be born. But then, something presses against you.

It wasn't a hand, or even air. An unseen weight pins your lungs. It isn't painful, but it's like there's an invisible palm over your mouth and another over your soul, and you can’t scream. Or move—which makes it worse. Because you’re a physics professor, for God's sake. You understand energy, pressure, forces, mass. But this is not science; this is blasphemy made manifest.

Your lips part to cry out, to mutter a Psalm, but instead, a voice you don’t recognize escapes your mouth, thy light hath no hold on He who knew it first…

Your eyes widen in horror. The words fall from your lips like black honey. Ancient, terrible, but beautiful. You try again, though the arch be sealed, I know thy name, oh First-Forgotten… Again, and again.

Every time you open your mouth, this chant, this liturgy from some who-knows-what age, pours from you. You begin to hyperventilate as your knees buckle. He takes a step forward.

His eyes… glow. Not metaphorically or symbolically. They glow. Red. No—deep, like the core of the earth. Anger so old it forgot what it was angry at; the color of damnation wept into velvet.

Your throat tightens, and you really, really think you’re going to pass out, what the hell is this? Oh God, am I dying? Is this a dream? This is not happening—this is not—this is not—you keep on spiralling inside of your head. But the man in front, no, not a man—just watches you with something devastating in his expression; it didn't look like cruelty, not even satisfaction. Sorrow it was.

“You called me,” he says softly, voice like smoke, making it sound like it used to be a hymn but came from heaven with him.

Your knees hit the floor with a soft thud, not sure if it's fear or faith that brought you down. You're still clutching the Bible like a lifeline and whispering prayers, but they melt into more of that cursed chant. You try to scream again, to call your mother, but your voice falters. Only silence comes, not even a whimper. Then suddenly, the pressure lifts. You inhale so sharply your lungs scream, and you look up at him, voice trembling, “Who… who are you?” You again crawl backward, the Bible shaking in your hands.

He tilts his head slightly, and for the first time, his expression shifts just faintly. A crack in the mask, something like nostalgia, like regret. “A shadow,” he says, “of what I once believed I could be.” His voice carries the weight of centuries, of battles lost, of names erased.

You hear wind in it, fire. Angels sobbing into the void. He takes one last look at you, and the light in the room flickers. You blink—and he’s gone.

The moment he disappears, your body collapses into a heap. You gasp for air as if it were your first breath in years. Your mother rushes into the room, footsteps urgent.

The moment you see her, the dam breaks in you. You crawl to her like a child, tears hot and fast as you wrap your arms around her waist, clutching her like the earth after a long fall. She holds you, shocked, and concerned. She crouches and cradles your face in her hands.

“Sweetheart, what—what happened? Tell me. What’s going on?”

But you can’t speak, so you only cry. She leads you to your bed, sitting beside you, pulling you into her arms like she did when you were small and afraid of the dark. She wipes the sweat from your brow with the hem of her sleeve, humming softly, her voice cracking seeing her daughter like this. Then she begins to tell you stories of childhood things. About the first time you prayed, how you’d cry if a bird fell from a tree, how you once said you wanted to marry the sky because it never seemed to lie. She holds you like you're her baby again; but you’re not. You’re a woman broken by something no priest ever prepared you for.

And as your eyes finally drift closed from exhaustion, and sore heart, you begin to wonder if you’re losing your mind. Because when you finally fall asleep…you dream of him.

At first, it’s alright, you are in a field of dusk which seemed colorless, shapeless. The air is thick and warm, humming with a strange music that you don’t hear with your ears, but your soul. Above you, the sky is full of stars, but they’re not still. They’re falling one by one, but it isn't even shooting stars. Each one descends with a long, echoing scream, a light extinguished mid-cry. You cover your ears, but it doesn’t stop the sound from crawling into your head.

When your eyes move around, you see, in the center of the field: an altar. Old stone, ancient, and cracked, but it bleeds. Blood, thick and glistening, seeps from its edges, trailing down like vines. You feel the earth pulse beneath your bare feet. You take a step forward, and the stars fall faster.

“This place is sacred, and yet, it suffers.”

You turn around to see the owner of the voice, and he’s there standing at the edge of your bed—but it’s not your bed anymore. You’re still in the dream, and the field has wrapped around you like a memory. He stands in shadow, half-light playing against his face. His eyes glow again, dim now, but the sorrow in them is still unmistakable.

“Why are you here?” you whisper, or maybe you don’t, maybe it’s only a thought, you’ve forgotten how to speak in dreams.

“To see,” he says, “if you still kneel.”

You do, but not because of him, because the weight of the dream, the altar, the stars—all of it presses down on you, compels you to your knees. You feel small, fragile, and very mortal, and yet part of something divine.

You look down and your hands are suddenly stained red. You know it's not your blood. “You were never meant to carry this,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “But you keep praying like it’ll disappear. Like it isn’t written into you.”

You look up at him. You want to scream at him, you want to cry, want to reach out. “Why are you haunting me?”

He kneels, finally, before you, “because once,” he whispers, so close now you can feel the chill of his fall, “I believed in the light. I saw you.”

The stars crash louder, the altar shudders, the earth splits—and you fall. Falling into black. Into memory, and fear. Into the scent of fire and old books, of sanctuaries burnt and prayers unanswered. You scream, and wake up.

You're gasping, drenched in sweat. The room is dark, and your mother is not found to be in your room anymore, but the Bible still rests on your nightstand. And at the foot of your bed, a single white feather, charred at the edge.

He never meant to get close, meant to feel. It started with your voice; your whispered prayers in empty chapels, your trembling Amens in the dark, your quiet pleading to a God who never answered. He watched from the shadows at first, not behind walls, but behind time, just far enough to not be real, just close enough to ache.

You reminded him of something he’d spent eternity trying to forget. Grace. Not the kind sung about in hymns, but that bled, that knelt even when it didn’t have to, that forgave even when it was breaking. She still believes, he’d murmur into the silence of his exile. What a dangerous thing.

He told himself it was curiosity. When you wept in the stairwell at work, unseen by the world, you weren’t unseen by him. When your hands shook, lighting the Sabbath candle, and you prayed for strength with trembling lips—he watched from the other side of the veil. When you clutched your Bible like a weapon, knuckles pale and face wet from nightmare, he was already there, in the corner of your room.

Your pain mirrored something he thought he no longer possessed, a heart. And somewhere along the line, he stopped counting your sins, and started memorizing your smiles.

He sits now, cross-legged in the middle of a decayed cathedral, wings long burned to bone,

his hand holding the white feather from your bed. "Why her?" a voice hisses from the shadows.

He doesn’t flinch. "Because," he says, eyes half-lidded, "she prays like it’ll save her from me. And I keep hoping it might save me." He appears only when you break, not to offer solace, but to see if he still can’t stop himself from touching your name in the air. "She makes me soft in the places I’ve sealed with ash."

But it’s getting harder to stay away, because one night soon, you will kneel in prayer and say, please don’t let me fall, and he will answer without thinking, "Then stop calling for me, little light. Because every time you do, I come closer. And I am not your salvation. I am the thing your salvation warns you about."

He still stays, because even Hell, in the hollow left by Heaven, had a heart once. And its last beat might just be you.

By the time you realize what you were seeing, it was too late to pretend you hadn’t. He was there again, standing on the chapel stairs.

You froze mid-step, breath catching in your throat. The late afternoon sun bled amber through the high cathedral windows behind him, but casting no shadows across his figure.

Staying still for a minute, looking at each other across the space, you dared to walk toward him. You stopped halfway, cautious, trembling, as if speaking to him might undo the very air around you.

“Why me?” you asked, voice thin and dry.

He turned his head slightly, a ghost of a smile teasing his lips. “Because you still kneel,” he murmured, eyes not leaving yours. “And I missed how that felt.”

You inhaled sharply, heart galloping in your chest. Frustrated, you looked around—half-hoping someone else might see him. Half-hoping you were just imagining it all again. You don’t even know him… but you know you should fear him.

There hasn't been a single day since that night in your childhood room that you haven't felt that sliver of fear lodged beneath your ribs. And now, seeing him again, tangible in the light of day, the fear twisted into more dangerous: fascination.

You swallowed, “Why are you so obsessed with kneeling? It’s not like I’m kneeling to you, I kneel to God.”

His smile darkened into something else, you take it as wicked, slow, and unbearably calm. He took a step closer with no shadow clinging to his boots like living things. “Do you think it matters who you mean to kneel to?” he says, “when the ground already belongs to me?”

His voice slid through you like warm oil over cold steel; seductive in sound, terrifying in weight.

“It’s not sin I tempt you with,” he remarked. “It’s understanding. I see you, entirely. And you’re still not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse.”

Your breath hitched. His eyes flickered red, a molten glow blooming in their depths. You stumbled back, remembering all over again why you were supposed to fear him. “Wh-who are you?” you stammered. “Do you have a name? What… what are you?”

He stepped into a beam of stained-glass light, and for a moment, you could see the ancient exhaustion lining his face; the weight of centuries etched beneath flawless skin. “They called me Lucifer,” he said softly. “But you can call me Joshua, if it makes you feel safer.”

It didn’t. You blinked. The name itself felt like a trick. “You’re… a devil?” you whispered. “What the hell is a devil doing…” you trail off realising the situation you're in and that you shouldn't be talking like this right now. “What do you want with me?”

“I didn’t choose to fall for you,” he said. “But your prayers—they reach places they shouldn’t. You ask not to fall for the wrong person. And I… I shouldn’t hear that. But I do.” Your hands trembled, the air grew too thick. Your knees weakened. “What if the wrong one falls?” he added, voice nearly a breath. “And your beloved God just... lets it happen?”

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. You backed away instinctively, stumbling through the chapel doors and collapsing at the altar, desperately searching for sanctuary, but even here, it felt compromised—tainted by his presence still lingering on your skin. You were scared, but not of damnation. You were scared because your faith wasn’t cracking from lust; it was breaking from the longing to be seen.

In days passed, he became your paradox. Your tormentor and your comfort. You felt him in flickering candle flames, in reflections that didn’t match your movements. On rooftops at night, watching, not interfering… most of the time.

A car swerved one night and missed you by inches. You knew it would’ve hit you, but it didn’t, because something, to be more specific —someone, stopped it.

At your weakest, when your hands shook too violently to lock your door or strike a match,

a warm whisper brushed your ear: that's enough, you did it.

You never told anyone explicitly; they’d lock you away in an asylum if you did. And besides, who would believe something so foolish, something that they can't make sense of?

You broke down in the confessional one rainy evening. You couldn’t explain why, just sobbed, endlessly, hands twisted in your lap, eyes clenched shut. You didn’t notice something passing through the wall. Didn’t feel the pew shift under someone else's weight.

Until his warm, impossibly warm hands wiped the tears from your cheek. His palm still radiated heat like a dying star. The scent of fire lingered, smoky. “You remind me of a time before,” he whispered.

“Before what?” you choked.

“Before I was only what they feared. Even Hell had a heart once.”

He wasn’t trying to drag you down, he was hoping, desperately, that you might reach back.

You let him stay a little longer in your room. You told him about your life, about your nights studying under dim lamps, about scraping your way through a system that wasn’t built for naive people, about the exhaustion, the loneliness, the little victories.He listened to your rambling unblinking. You could tell he already knew, but he let you say it anyway.

“You make me question everything I’ve ever believed,” your fingers brushed a physics journal lying beside your pillow.“The laws of motion. Time. Reality. God.”

He tilted his head. “Maybe I’m just a new variable,” he offered.

You exhaled shakily; not quite a laugh, not quite a sob. “Maybe I’m losing my mind.”

He reached out, fingertip just barely grazing your wrist. “Or maybe you’ve finally opened it.”

You looked at him, something tender stirring where only fear had lived before. He wasn’t just a nightmare with red eyes anymore. He was—broken. Human, in a way that terrified you more than horns and hellfire ever could. “Why do you come to me?” you asked.

His gaze flickered to the floor as if the question pained him. “Because you pray for peace,” he whispered slowly, “and I hope you find it. Before I ruin it.”

Your fingers moved of their own accord, tracing the back of his hand, so warm it bordered on scorching. He didn’t flinch, and neither did you, and before you knew what it meant, your forehead rested against his—your first true touch. It was innocent, reverent even. You could hear nothing but the clock ticking on your nightstand and your own heartbeat skipping like a frightened thing. He stayed there, unmoving, as though if he dared shift even slightly, he might break something sacred between you.

He fell for you in that silence; not because you feared him, or even because you saw him. But because you still knelt, still prayed, even when the world burned around you.

He was Lucifer. But around you, he was a shadow with soft eyes, full of restraint that cracked at the edges. “I can’t touch you without burning,” he let you know, voice tight.

“And yet you still try,” you whispered back, your hand trembling as you laid it on his cheek. You could feel it—the molten resistance under his skin, the air around him warped slightly like heat on pavement. You could see it in his eyes too, the agony of holding back, of containing a force that once defied the Almighty.

His forehead remained pressed to yours, until you leaned back slightly. He reached to keep you close, hands hovering at your shoulders, not daring to grasp. “Are you still scared of me?” he asked.

You swallowed. “Yes… but it’s not the fear of what you are—it’s fear of what this could mean. But it’s better. It’s better than the time I didn’t know you. Better than that first day on the chapel.”

He closed his eyes. “You always remind me of a time. You remind me of a time I felt grace.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you prayed, silently and internally. The words tangled with your breath as you pleaded for peace, for understanding, for something beyond this impossible intimacy. He stayed perfectly still, listening; not to your voice, but to your prayer. He wasn’t trying to damn you.

He began to visit you in dreams, but not with sin. With silence, and seeing.

And your prayers turned confused—full of contradictions, of longing for someone you weren’t meant to long for. He wanted redemption, but the closer he got to grace, the more violently Hell responded.

You had noticed it first in the mirrors, your own reflection watching you too long. The sound of wings, but not his—fluttering behind your ears when you knelt. The angels didn’t comfort you—they judged. That was cold, bright, cruel. They didn’t understand why you still let him near, and when they came, it wasn’t with harps or halos; it was with wrath.

The ground cracked under them, with wind and holy fire erupting in your bedroom. Your rosary shattered on the floor as they advanced. That’s when he stepped forward.

He didn’t flee, but stood between you and the divine, hand raised not in violence but in defiance. “I won’t let you harm her,” he growled, and the room trembled at his voice.

His fire didn’t scorch you, it instead shielded you arching over your body like a barrier, his wings unfurling in a storm of black smoke and crimson light.

Later, when the angels vanished with seared feathers and scornful eyes, you collapsed. “God never loved me like you do,” you choked.

He didn’t reply, but he looked ruined. He sat on the edge of your bed. “You don’t understand what you’re saying,” he murmured. “You’re asking to walk beside something that even heaven cast out.”

“And you,” you whispered, reaching for his burning hand again, “are asking me to walk away before you break me.”

His eyes flickered red, then human, then red again. “Yes.”

But you shook your head. “I would rather walk through fire beside someone who sees me than kneel in a church that ignores my ache.”

He stilled, making the universe held its breath, and in that stillness, he looked at you as though you were made of light he was never meant to touch. As though he could finally understand why angels fell: not for rebellion.

You were the temptation, and yet, you were tempted by him. The irony burned; you were falling—not into hell, but for it.

Joshua stood at the edge, between damnation and redemption, and neither path looked holier than the way your eyes held his.

He moved closer, until there was no air between your breaths. Until his presence became heat, and that heat became longing. “You pray not to fall in love with the wrong person,” he muttered, voice low and wrecked. “And your God… not only didn’t answer—but made the wrong entity fall for you.”

His words struck deep. It wasn't with mockery, but a bitter kind of awe, as if even he couldn’t believe it. You looked him in the eye and reasoned, “At least it’s a wrong entity… and not a wrong human. For that, I do thank Him.”

That broke something in him, and in you. He touched your face slowly, hesitant, reverent. A hand that had once ended worlds now trembling to touch your cheek. His thumb brushed your lower lip, as if asking for permission he had never dared to take, and still, you didn’t pull away. You tilted your head into it; permission.

He exhales, ragged and stunned, like the contact burned him, and maybe it did. You don’t speak when his fingers trace the line of your throat. You just breathe as he studies your reaction like a man terrified of ruining what little good remains in his hands. “This is wrong,” he whispers. “You know that, don’t you?”

“But so was everything that hurt me before you,”

"You were never meant to be touched by fire like me."

“Then why,” you ask, your voice barely a thread, “does it feel like warmth for the first time?”

He leans in closer than close, and your lips don’t quite meet, but the air between you sizzles with the proximity. His breath is hot against your mouth, and when you close your eyes, you feel him flinch as if trying not to touch you, yet.

He’s trembling—not from lust, but from the sheer restraint of it. “I could destroy you,” he says against your lips. “Easily.”

You press forward, just enough to whisper against his mouth, “Then destroy me gently.”

And that undoes him. “Say it again,” he demands.

“Say what?”

“That you thank your God… for sending the wrong entity.” You smile, half-shattered and half-defiant. Something wild flickers in his eyes, something ancient and starving.

He lifts your hand and presses it to his bare chest. "Feel that?" he murmurs. His heart, thudding against your palm, which felt erratic and alive. "That’s for you. You, the one thing in this world I can't touch without burning, and still, like you said—I keep reaching." You are fully clothed, and yet you’ve never felt so bare beneath someone’s touch. And still, there is reverence. Always reverence. He touches you like a priest at the altar, like you are a sacrament he is forbidden to hold but worships anyway. “I never wept for heaven,” he confesses. “But you—you make me weep.”

You cling to him like an answer you weren’t supposed to find, and that was when the darkness crept in. It wasn't from him, but from the echoes of your past.

His breath hitched. “Don’t let me ruin you,” he rasped.

“Maybe I’m already ruined,” you said softly. “Or maybe you’re what kept me alive.” Your voice cracked at the edge of truth.

You remembered the nights you couldn’t breathe. The silence that swallowed you whole when no one came. The sharpness of words meant to raise you, but instead left bruises. You remembered the cutting cold of abandonment, the nights someone touched you when they shouldn’t have, the ache of a body that didn't feel like yours anymore, and the prayers you muttered into your pillow, prayers for sleep, for peace, for escape.

The world didn’t break you all at once. It did so slowly, cruelly, as if daring you to notice, and when the world forgot you, he didn’t.

You didn’t realize how you got back to breathing properly, how you started lighting candles instead of hiding from the dark, until you traced it all back—to him. To the nights he just sat there invisibly, to the moments his gaze, heavy and broken, told you you weren’t invisible, to the way he listened, even when you didn’t speak.

He never told you to forgive the world, he never asked you to stay. He simply healed. And it was that, that stitched you back together.

It was him. He was the answer your prayers were too broken to phrase. You gasp, not from fear but from remembering, and he sees it. He pulls back, alarmed, the heat in his eyes replaced with concern.

“You okay?” he asks while his eyes searching for discomfort or fear, and then forehead to yours again, grounding you.

Tears on your lashes now, you nod. “You brought me back,” you reply. “I didn’t realize it… but you did.” He presses a kiss to your temple, then your closed eyelids, like comfort; like home. But then he stiffens.

You feel the shift, and the warning. “I need you to walk away,” he said, voice suddenly hoarse. “Right now. Before I break you for real. I’m close… too close. And I can’t—”

Before, there were moments when he almost reached for you, when his hand would hover an inch from yours, trembling like the air between you were on fire, like touching you might scorch him but not touching you might kill him slower; and there were moments where you swore you saw tears, not fire, behind his eyes.

He never kissed you, never let you fall. Never let himself fall either. And that was the tragedy, pretending the view was enough. But God, if staring could be a sin, you were both damned tenfold.

You tried to walk away before he even asked for it, days and months ago. You blocked his number, even though he never called. You stopped looking in shadows, stopped waiting for something you wouldn’t get even though you wanted, started keeping your rosary closer, like faith could be armor thick enough to keep his memory out—but mid-prayer, your hands would shake, trembling open in the air, and your heart, traitorous and tender, would whisper his name before your lips could finish the verse, and you hated yourself for it. And then, then you’d lift your head and there he would be, sitting quietly, as if he had never stopped watching, as if you belonged to a story that wouldn’t let itself end.

I told myself I wouldn’t come back, he said back then, his voice was barely there, but your God… He still listens to me when I ask not to love you anymore. He just won’t answer.

And that’s when you broke finally and violently—you screamed at him, threw the nearest book, told him he ruined you, told him you hated him for making you feel like this, for making you question everything you thought was sacred, for pushing you into a place where nothing felt safe, not even your own faith.

He just looked at you like he’s been waiting for this; for the rage, for the ache, for the truth—and he looked at you like you’re his religion he doesn’t believe he deserves but still kneels toward. I hate me too, he said, and it’s not an excuse or a plea, it’s a confession.

He doesn’t say he loves you. You don’t say you love him. Because that’s not the kind of story this is.

Maybe in another world, if the devil had a heart and heaven wasn’t so far out of reach, maybe you would’ve been his salvation, and he would’ve been your first prayer, and you, his last chance at being saved.

Even your God can’t hate me more than I hate myself for wanting you, he told you once, not under the safety of night, but in the unforgiving clarity of day, when sins cast long shadows and truth had nowhere to hide. He said it with that maddening calm, like a man already condemned, no longer pleading for heaven, but still aching for a taste of light before the final fall.

You didn’t touch him then, not for a long time. But you stood too close, and shared silence the way others shared skin. He hovered, always, his hand never quite reaching yours, as if even that would be too much; a blasphemy neither of you could bear. And somehow, that restraint, that impossible ache wrapped in reverence, felt holier than the kiss you never dared to steal.

You tried to tell yourself that he was the test. The devil’s whisper clothed in tenderness. That his eyes, red not with fire but with sorrow, were the markings of your downfall. But what kind of demon stood between you and temptation, not pushing you forward, but holding you back, whispering, you don’t deserve this kind of ruin, even as his own heart splintered beneath the weight of wanting you?

Because he did want you. And you—shaking, stubborn, shrouded in your prayers and your guilt and your half-sung hymns—you wanted him back.

You began to learn the small things first: that he didn’t like loud noises, that he found church bells both agonizing and beautiful, that he sometimes stared at stained glass for hours, chasing memories he couldn’t hold on to. He flinched at kindness, laughed like it surprised him. He didn’t sleep, instead, he watched; you, mostly—and when he thought you weren’t looking, he wept without tears.

He had a heart, you realized. That was the cruelest part. Even hell had a heart, and it beat for you.

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shimmerandink · 3 months ago

Text

Gifts of Chaos

Jinx x Vi`s Girlfriend! Reader

Angst/one-shot

Tags: Jinx x reader, Vi x reader, you are Vi´s girlfriend, manipulating jinx, flirty behavior, girlfriend stealing, sfw

Summary: You, Vi´s girlfriend meets Jinx who get´s an interest in you. Vi however is not pleased and as time progresses your relationship slowly starts falling apart...

Masterlist pt2 pt3

The smell of smoke still lingered in the air when Vi stepped into the abandoned factory, her boots echoing against the cracked concrete floor. You were right behind her, staying close, your fingers brushing the small of her back, more for your reassurance than hers. You had heard stories about Jinx. Everyone had. But for Vi, it wasn’t a cautionary tale. It was blood. It was loss.

And now she was here.

Jinx stood atop a half-dismantled catwalk above, lit by flickering neon tubes she must’ve dragged in herself. The electric hum buzzed like insects in your ears, casting her in shadows and shifting light, half angel, half threat.

She jumped down with that impossible grace, landing with a soft clink of metal. Her boots, her belt, her weapons, everything about her screamed danger. But her grin? That was something else. Sharp, but curious. Wild, but almost childlike. She looked at Vi like a ghost had walked into her life.

And then her gaze slid to you.

The grin faltered.

Her head tilted to the side, slow and smooth, one of those braids swinging with the motion. Her pupils dilated just a bit too much, her smile twitching like static before settling into something unreadable.

"...And who is this?"

You froze under her stare. It was intense, not hostile, not at first, but strange. Hungry. Curious. Like you were something she didn’t expect to see, didn’t know she wanted to see until now.

Vi stepped in front of you, voice cold. "She’s not part of this. Don’t even look at her like that."

But Jinx didn’t look away.

“Your girlfriend?” she asked, dragging the word out like it tasted foreign in her mouth. "Seriously, Vi? All those years crying over me, and now you’ve got yourself a pretty little thing to patch the hole?"

You felt Vi tense, her jaw locking, but it was hard to focus with Jinx still watching you.

Not looking. Watching.

There was something in her eyes, like she was trying to peel you open and see what was underneath. And worse?

Part of you couldn’t look away either.

You didn’t flinch when Jinx stepped forward, though your heart was doing its best impression of a war drum. She was too close now. Close enough that you could see the way her pupils danced, always shifting, never resting. Like her mind was running a thousand miles a minute and you had become its latest obsession.

“Didn’t peg you for the soft type, Vi.” Jinx tilted her head again, letting out a low whistle. “She yours? For real?”

Vi’s stance didn’t change, but you could feel the shift in her breathing. Controlled. Tight. Ready.

“Yeah. She’s mine.”

Jinx let out a slow, dry laugh. "Cute." Her fingers twitched near the trigger of her gun, but she wasn’t aiming it. Not yet. “Tell me, "Mine",” she said, mocking Vi with the nickname, “do you even know who you’re cuddling up with at night?”

You opened your mouth to say something, but Jinx’s hand lifted, one finger pressed to her lips like a secret. “No no, don’t answer yet,” she whispered. “I wanna guess.”

She circled slowly, not stalking, but prowling. A cat curious about the mouse that doesn’t run.

“You’re not like her. Not rough around the edges. You’ve got soft hands, clean shoes. That uptown scent.” Her nose wrinkled slightly, but her smirk only grew. “You’re a Pilty, huh? What a twist.”

"Jinx," Vi warned, her voice low and dangerous.

But the younger woman’s eyes didn’t leave yours. “You know what I think?” she murmured, voice almost gentle now. “You make her feel like she’s not broken. Like maybe, if someone like you can love her, she isn’t so far gone.”

She took another step forward, and this time...you didn’t back away.

She noticed.

That crooked grin returned, but there was something different in it now. Something quieter. Less performative. “Huh,” she breathed, head tilting again. “You’ve got guts, sweetheart. I’ll give you that.”

Vi moved between you both again, her chest brushing yours as she shielded you. “Back. Off.”

But Jinx only backed up with a lazy shrug, hands raised. “Relax, sis. I’m not gonna hurt your new toy. Wouldn’t dream of it.” She licked her lips, eyes still flicking toward you. “Not unless she wants me to.”

Then she was gone, fading into the shadows with that soundless, uncanny grace, like a ghost returning to the dark.

You didn’t realize how tight your grip was on Vi’s arm until she turned to you, gently prying your hand free.

“You okay?” she asked.

You nodded slowly... but your eyes lingered on the spot where Jinx had vanished.

-----------------

It had been nearly two weeks since you saw her, Jinx. But that night still played on loop in your mind like a broken reel, skipping back to her smile, her voice, her eyes. Especially her eyes.

Now, you sat across from Vi in a quiet little café tucked away in one of Piltover’s cleaner districts. The walls were a soft amber glow, lined with hand-painted tiles and hanging plants, like the kind of place that begged people to feel safe. The warmth of the lighting should’ve calmed you.

But you were anything but calm.

The soft chime of silverware against ceramic. The faint clatter of cups being washed behind the counter. Vi stirring her coffee too long, round and round with a spoon that barely touched the sides.

You couldn’t tell if she was thinking or just avoiding speaking.

Your food sat half-eaten. Warm stew, rich with spice and tenderness, but you’d been chewing like your mouth was made of cotton. You couldn’t taste anything anyway.

Finally, Vi broke the silence.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice low and rough like she hadn’t spoken in hours.

You looked up slowly. “For what?”

She stared down into her cup, watching the cream spiral like it might spell something out. “For bringing you down there. For letting you near her.”

Her. Even when she didn’t say the name, it hit like a slap.

Vi’s fingers tightened around the ceramic cup. “She wasn’t supposed to see you. I didn’t think—” Her jaw locked. “She looked at you like you were a fucking puzzle. And she doesn’t let go once she’s curious.”

You sat back slightly in your seat, eyes lowering. You didn’t want to lie to her.

Because part of you had felt it, too. That pull.

You still felt it.

Vi continued. “Jinx... she gets in your head. Always has. Back when we were kids, she’d twist people around her finger without even realizing it. Then blow it all up like it didn’t matter.”

The ice in her tone made your skin crawl. Not because she was wrong. But because it made you feel guilty. She doesn’t know what it did to you.

Vi leaned forward across the small table, reaching out to take your hand in both of hers. The callouses on her palms brushed against your softer skin, comforting, familiar. Steady.

“She’s dangerous. I don’t care if she smiled at you or made you feel... whatever. That’s what she does. I’m just glad you walked away untouched.”

Untouched.

Your throat tightened.

If only Vi knew.

Because Jinx had touched something. Not physically, but mentally. Emotionally. Like she’d crept inside a locked room in your chest and refused to leave.

“She won’t come back,” Vi said, almost like a promise. “I won’t let her.”

You nodded slowly, forcing a smile.

But your heart beat a little faster. Because you hadn’t told Vi about the strange symbol you found etched into your coat pocket the day after.

Or the folded scrap of metal you found in your purse. The one that wasn’t there before.

Or the smell of gunpowder and cherry gum that somehow lingered in your closet when you knew it had been shut for days.

Vi didn’t notice.

But you did.

And when she looked away again, back to her coffee, back to her guilt, you allowed yourself a tiny breath you didn’t want to examine too closely.

Because deep down...

You were kind of hoping Jinx would come back.

----------

The apartment used to feel like home. Now, it just felt like a box closing in.

The air inside was heavy, thick with something unsaid, something rotting between you and Vi. The warmth that used to sit between you both, that steady kind of love, had turned into a brittle, breaking thing. And maybe... maybe you weren’t doing anything to stop it.

Another fight.

You weren’t even sure what triggered it this time. Maybe Vi’s exhaustion. Maybe your distance. Maybe the way your mind had been elsewhere for weeks, caught in the web of something you didn’t want to name.

Vi stood across from you, jaw tight, fingers flexing at her sides like she was forcing herself to stay still. The dim kitchen light flickered slightly, buzzing between you both.

“You barely even talk to me anymore.”

Her voice was raw, low, edged with frustration but lined with something that almost sounded like hurt.

You swallowed. “I do talk to you.”

Vi scoffed, shaking her head. “No. You exist near me. That’s not the same.”

Your arms folded tightly over your chest, like maybe if you held yourself together hard enough, the words you didn’t want to say would stay locked in.

Vi exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “I feel like I’m losing you, and you won’t even fucking tell me why.”

Because I don’t know how to explain it.

How could you? How could you put into words the way something else had taken root in you? That every time you looked over your shoulder, you swore you saw a shadow just waiting for you to notice? That the little “gifts” left behind, burned playing cards, twisted scraps of metal, a single bullet with a smiley face etched into the casing felt more like a secret language than a threat?

Vi stepped closer, her presence grounding, real. Her voice softened just a fraction. “Whatever this is... just tell me.”

She was asking for honesty.

You gave her silence.

Vi’s expression hardened. She let out a bitter laugh, stepping back like she was realizing something too late. “You know what? Fine.” She turned away, gripping the edge of the counter. “Keep shutting me out. Keep pretending like I don’t see what’s happening.”

Something inside you twisted.

Vi shook her head. “I’m not gonna fucking beg you to be honest with me.”

You flinched at that.

She scoffed, her voice dropping. “You want space?” She gestured toward the door. “Take all the space you fucking want.”

Your throat felt tight.

Maybe you should have fought. Maybe you should have stayed.

Instead, you grabbed your jacket and left.

------------

The city swallowed you whole.

Piltover’s clean streets bled into the underbelly, the winding alleys where the glow of street lamps didn’t quite reach. Your breath curled in the cold night air, hands stuffed in your pockets, shoulders hunched against the weight of everything left unsaid.

Vi’s voice still rang in your head. I’m not gonna beg you to be honest with me.

She didn’t know. She didn’t understand the pull inside you.

Or maybe she did. Maybe that’s what scared her.

Your fingers brushed against something in your pocket, something you didn’t remember putting there.

You pulled it out.

A small, round coin. It was warm, like someone had just been holding it. A familiar smiley face was scratched into the surface, jagged and uneven.

Your breath caught.

A breeze curled around you, carrying the faint scent of something sweet, something that shouldn’t be here.

Gunpowder and cherry gum.

No fucking way.

Something shifted in the shadows up ahead.

And then—

“Well, well... look who finally came looking for me.”

You froze.

Jinx stood just beyond the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp, one boot propped against the crumbling brick behind her. The neon streaks in her hair caught the low light, her cyan eyes glowing in the dark like something feral.

She was twirling a small knife between her fingers, lazy and smooth, like muscle memory. Her grin was wide, but her eyes, those goddamn eyes, stayed locked on you.

“I was starting to think you weren’t interested,” she teased, tilting her head.

You swallowed, hard.

She took a step forward, slow and deliberate. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You liked my little presents, didn’t you?”

A lump formed in your throat.

Jinx smirked. “Cat got your tongue?”

The night air felt thick around you, heavy and suffocating as Jinx moved ever closer. Each step she took toward you felt like a slow burn, a spark edging ever nearer to a fire you weren’t sure you wanted to stop. The only sound was the soft scrape of her boots on the cracked pavement, each movement deliberate, calculated. She was savoring this. Savoring you.

You should’ve walked away. You should’ve turned on your heel, swallowed down the tightness in your throat, and gone straight back to Vi. That’s what a good partner would do, right?

But Jinx’s voice pulled you in, weaving through your defenses like a poisonous melody.

“Y’know,” she murmured, her eyes never leaving yours, “I thought I was imagining it the first time. The way you looked at me.”

You stood frozen, your pulse hammering against your ribs. Her eyes, those cold, calculating eyes, held you captive, drawing out every ounce of shame, every flicker of desire you tried so hard to bury.

“But then I saw you again. Same look,” Jinx continued, her grin almost predatory. “Made me wonder… who were you really thinking about when you crawled into Vi’s bed at night?”

You didn’t know how to answer, because the truth was, every time you closed your eyes, it was Jinx you saw. The way she laughed, the way her hair glowed in the moonlight, the way her eyes burned into you like she could see inside you. You’d tried to deny it, but it was undeniable now.

She knew.

Her smile widened as your silence spoke louder than anything you could’ve said. “Oh, there it is,” Jinx said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “That guilt. That tension. You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you? Can’t get me out of your head. But you still tell yourself you’re not the one who’s lost.”

Her fingers twitched, the knife she’d been twirling now gone from her hand, slipped into the sheath at her hip. She didn’t need it. Her words were sharp enough to wound you, and she knew it.

Jinx stepped closer, one slow, deliberate step at a time, closing the distance between you with a predator’s grace. She was playing with you, circling you like she owned every inch of this moment. You tried to breathe, tried to steady yourself, but each movement she made only pulled you deeper into her web.

“You ever think about me, cupcake?” she asked, the nickname grating on your skin like sandpaper, but the way it rolled off her tongue made you feel things you couldn’t admit even to yourself. “Late at night, when you’re in Vi’s arms? When you’re kissing her, and it still feels... wrong?”

You hated how much it hurt to hear her say that. But you didn’t hate how much it was true.

You hated how much you wanted to believe it.

You swallowed thickly, but the words wouldn’t come. Jinx noticed your hesitation, noticed the way your breath quickened, the way you shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

She grinned, and it was sharp. “Oh, that’s it,” she purred. “You don’t wanna admit it. You think I don’t know? But you’re just mad Vi doesn’t make you feel like I do. Like this.”

She stepped closer, her breath warm against your ear, and for the first time since she’d appeared, you felt your body react to her. Her proximity. Her words. Her touch, her danger.

Jinx’s lips brushed lightly against your earlobe, and the warmth spread through you like wildfire, making your heart race even faster. “You’ve been playing pretend for so long, haven’t you? Hiding from what you really want. But it’s not gonna go away.” Her voice dropped lower, darker. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She lingered there for a moment, then pulled back just enough to look at you. Her eyes danced with mischief. “Go on. Run back to her. Tell her you went for a walk and got lost.” Her lips curled in that same sharp, twisted smile. “Or don’t. I’m not going anywhere.”

And with that, she turned away, her steps light and casual, but every single movement dripped with confidence. She was walking away, but you could feel her pulling you with her.

“You won’t be able to resist,” she called back over her shoulder, her voice carrying in the night. “I’ll leave you another present, sweetheart. Let’s see how long you can pretend you don’t wanna open it.”

And just like that, she was gone. Her figure blending into the shadows, her presence hanging over you like a curse.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, the cold wind biting at your skin as the adrenaline started to wear off. Your heartbeat thudded in your chest, each pulse sending a wave of guilt and want crashing through you. Jinx was right, you wanted her. But you didn’t know what that meant anymore.

And maybe... maybe you never had.

Your fingers shook as you reached into your pocket, feeling for the coin she’d left for you. You pulled it out slowly, your hands trembling. It was warm, like she had just touched it. The familiar smiley face stared back at you, its jagged edges looking almost too real in the dim light.

This was no coincidence.

It was a challenge.

And you couldn’t tell if you were terrified or excited.

#arcane #arcane fandom #league of legends x reader #arcane x you #arcane fanfic #jinx x reader #jinx arcane #jinx x y/n #vi x you #vi x reader

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yuvany · 11 months ago

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# STRAWBERRY WEEK``

๋࣭ ⭑ 𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 with a partner on her period ♤

OT7 enhypen x female readerˏˋ ´ˎ˗ GENRE / WARNING(S) :: fluff + cramps + periods + kissing + skinship + est relationship + not proofread + lazy written. % WC : 1027 𝜗𝜚 CHECK BOX !!

( reblogs + feedback always appreciated! )

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 ━

You groan annoyingly as you exit the bathroom, and Heeseung who was nearby caught that. He got out of his chair, and made his way to your room, seeing you by your drawer. He tries to peek, but you manage to turn around before he does. "What is it, Hee?" You ask, sounding exhausted. "Just curious what you're up to." He says, and you walk around him with a hand in your pocket, making your way inside the bathroom again. "No need to follow me around, you know." You shut the door in his face, and Heeseung walks back to the living room, saddened. As you walk out again, feeling slightly refreshed, you realised how harshly you acted towards your boyfriend, and walked over to him. "I'm sorry, baby." You crawl into his arms, and he hugs you close, handing you a bowl of fruits with chocolate dip on the side. "It's your period right? I forgive you, sweetheart." In return, you kiss him on the cheek.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 ━

Noticed something was bothering you even before you told him. "Baby, are you feeling okay?" He asked, his fingers finding your ear as he combs stands of your hair to the side. Jay looks at you lovingly, though you just feel aggravated. "No, I'm not." Your cramps have been acting up, painfully spiking your abdomen, and you feel slightly bad for Jay when your voice comes out harsher than expected. He is slightly taken aback, but still confronts you. "Is it your period?" He throws his guess based on the period tracker installed on his phone, and you lean your head against his chest, nodding as he pats your back. "Hmm, let me make something nice for you." Jay hums and kisses your forehead, and guides the two of you to the kitchen, letting you hang onto him like a baby koala to its mother. Jay also asks if he needs to buy you more pads, overall the ideal person to have by your side.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗬𝗨𝗡 ━

He saw you twisting and turning on the carpet, so he hunched down beside you with a questioning look. "My love, what's going on?" His voice sounded concerned. You look up at him while laying on your back. "These cramps, they won't stop." You painfully explained as you return to finding yourself in weird formations. With no hesitation Jake pulled you up, and sat you in between his legs, his palms finding the area beneath your stomach to apply some warmth. He had seen it somewhere before and wanted to try it out. "Does it feel better?" He asked, and you hummed in reply, "Definitely. Thank you baby." You let your hands rest above his as he presses a kiss to your temple. He will probably be the type to say, "If I could, I'd take your pain so you won't have to struggle," but the way he says it is so genuine, and filled with sincerity.

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉 ━

"I feel disgusting" You mutter as you walk into the room, standing by the door frame feeling awfully aware of yourself. Sunghoon looks up from his book and arches an eyebrow. "Hmm? Why's that, angel?" You sit on the edge of the bed, and Sunghoon does as well. "I just feel weird, like every part of my body is itchy." You explain as best as you could, and he listens intently, his fingers massaging your scalp. "I hate periods!" You exclaimed at last, and Sunghoon nods his head. "Stay here." He says and walks out of the room after leaving a kiss on your forehead. You make yourself comfortable as you wait for him, and he returns after a couple of minutes with a tray of your favourite snacks and a warm glass of water. This time you look up at him with an arched eyebrow, and he notices it. "This always helped my sister."

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢 ━

Sunoo and you were watching a movie, unfortunately it was a rather emotional one, and you started sobbing in the middle of it. Sunoo who sat beside you with his arm over you, turned to you worriedly. "Dear, what happened?!" He asked, his voice filled with shock. You explain what went through your mind when the scene played in the movie, and he listens. "It's just that I feel bad for that kid who he kidnapped." You sob, and Sunoo rubs your back. "Really?" "Yeah, I wonder how his parents feel," you dry your tears with your sleeve before starting the previously paused movie. Sunoo is dumbfounded by this and looks between you and the screen, then he remembered the date. It's been a couple of days now since you started your period.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡 ━

"woni, these cramps are killing me." You complain, and slump onto his bed while laying on your stomach. Jungwon who was occupied by his phone, looked at you worriedly, concerned at how much your were complaining, and even more so after he heard how much they actually hurt, being compared to a heart attack. "Come here, sweetie." He cooed, his arms wide open for you crawl in and cuddle with him, fitting like two puzzle pieces. Right as you were about to do so, Jungwon got up and told you to wait, which made you impatient, so you just laid there on your side silently, waiting for your boyfriend to return. Not long after, he returned with a heating pad and your favourite snacks. "Sorry, baby, had to get these first."

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜 ━

He notices how much water you're drinking and decides to question you about it. "Babe, why are you drinking so much water?" Your hand held onto the glass filled with water, half way up until it reached your lips, "I saw online that this will make my period shorter." Rik rose an eyebrow at how atrocious it sounded, but shrugged. "Is it working?" "I don't know." You chugged down the last glass of water, and added, "Doubt it though." "I heard it helps with cramps though," Riki said, approaching you as he pulls you into a hug. "Now that you mentioned it, it kind of did work," you said shockingly, and hugged him back, letting his warmth radiate on you.

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anxiouspotionofgloom · 3 months ago

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Scarian fics rec!

Ok so, here's me dumping all the Scarian fics I love and find underrated (under 1k kudos, please go give them some love if you see this 🥺)

No particular order except for number one, because this is my favourite fic ever and I think of it almost every day it is so criminally underrated and may or may not be the reason I created this list...

Sorry for the ping authors, I've been told most people would like to be pinged on those if I included their fics, so here we go I guess!

as above, so below by @birrdies

Hermit’s Hollow was a quiet town where you learned to ignore whisperings of nonsense and the dull, persistent feeling of being watched before you learned to ride a bike. To call it pedestrian would be a great disservice to all the terrible oddities occupying it— folks and legends alike. Not that Grian believed any of them, of course. Or; There's something wrong in Hermit's Hollow. There's something wrong with Grian. Neither of these are a surprise to him.

I'm begging you to give it a chance, it has legit rewritten my brain chemistry, the scarian dynamic is so perfect in here, the plot so fleshed out and it reaches, dear lord it reaches inside your chest and twist. I cried. I laughed. I smiled so hard it felt like it was carving itself on my face. My favourite Scarian fic forever probably.

2. they say my star is a little lonely (so how about staying a little longer?) by Lappisu (I don't know if they have Tumblr please lmk if they do ;-;)

Forgive Grian for not keeping track of the time. Centuries and seconds all feel the same when it's been so long since anything has happened on the little planet Grian calls home—until a being that calls himself Scar lands. He's too loud, and too bright, and too much of everything. Unfortunately, Scar is the single most interesting thing Grian has laid eyes upon in a long time. Forgive Grian for wanting more. or: Grian and Scar, strangers in space, and then some.

This fic is so so good, I am so intrigued by the concept and the lore behind it all, I am genuinely reading it for scarian but also for the world surrounding them, and thinking of Grian, alone on his little planet, it Gets to me. And the ending moment!! I was literally kicking my feet twirling my hair, I'm very weak to 'I'll kill them all' moments thank you <3

3. counting steps by @ilexdiapason and @greyquills

“Well - if nothing's broken, you didn't chip any teeth or anything, then I guess it's all good, right?" (It is not all good. It has lost everything. It has unbecome itself and now it has nothing, not even the wings on its back, not even the Sight in its core.) "Yes." Or: in which Grian has Fallen, but somebody is there to pick him up again. And again, and again, and again, every time he cannot find his way.

This fic is 9 kudos away from being out of this list but I'm squeezing it in there because it is SO good. I ate it up the whole way through. Fallen angel is such an interesting trope, and I love what they did with it. It is such an ode to humanity and what makes us us, seeing how Grian slowly creates himself out of all the things he has discovered, the things that Scar has made him discover, it goes very hard. Tears in my eyes perhaps.

4. it feels good to be known so well by @roseandmaple

Somehow, in the chaos that is the apocalypse— former human beings rising from the dead and whatnot— Scar has managed to find his way into the Compound, a makeshift gated community of survivors from all around the world, led by a man they call Grian. By some grace of God (or, more accurately, his own silver tongue) Scar has quickly climbed his way up the ranks, and has found himself in the position of their leader’s right hand man. The unfortunate thing, though, is that Scar’s pretty sure he doesn’t deserve it. Because Scar is still himself— clumsy, forgetful, reckless— but for some reason, Grian hasn’t sent him away yet, hasn’t replaced him with someone better, and a nagging voice in the back of Scar’s mind has one question: why? Or: Scar gets injured, Grian fixes him up, and they finally talk about their feelings.

Very cute fic!! I'm so interested in the relationship Scar and grian seem to have! It balances humour and self-doubt well, coupled with soft scenes that I'm 🥺 about.

5. Moths to a Fluorescent Flame by @entropyhours

Scar's there, standing, a cheeky, ever so slightly bashful grin on her face. It's almost a smirk, her classic slightly off-kilter upturned smile that frequently makes a cosy home on the tanned lines of her face. She makes a door opening gesture with her arms, a silly, dramatic thing that involves far too much motion for the small amount it realistically communicates. Can I come out? I'll leave you alone if you really want. Grian doesn't know what she really wants. In there it's warmth and joy and noise and people and the fear that all this is transient and bound to crumble in her careless hands. Out here it's cold and lonely and unchanging stillness and safety. Devil you know better than the devil you don't. Moth burning up in the neon radiation it trusts more than anything else. Icarus inside, Icarus outside. (in which a substantial New Year's kiss is shared at midnight, but feelings are best left unspoken)

It is MY rec list and I get to decide which fics go on here which is why I'm nominating my friend!!!!!!! It is such an amazing yuri fic (we need more of those in the world) The way scarian are so soft at each others in here, they have this understanding of each other, the things left unsaid and the things that are indeed said, it's all so lovely!!

6. The Love of a Killer by Anonymous

It has been 3 years since Detective Grian caught and apprehended the ‘Goodtimes Killer’, almost dying in the process. When the serial killer escapes prison, Grian is once again thrown back into a game of cat and mouse to catch him. Only this time, the killer has a new obsession with the detective that may prove detrimental to the case and his life.

Obsessed with this one. It's darker than the other fics but my god. MY GOD. This got me to rewatch hannibal for the fourth time and start a fifth. It is just so amazing, from the cat and mouse relationship between Scar and Grian (where they both try in turn to be the cat) to the plot besides the 'romance' that is so intriguing to me, it goes way beyond being a simple chase of a murderer, truly i'm amazed and oh so patiently waiting for a new update!

7. Splinters by orangeghosts

When Grian has trouble with a build, his solution is to just work harder. Unfortunately, this can lead to him neglecting pesky things like basic self care, including the preening of his wings. Enter Scar, who agrees to lend a hand with the terraforming on Grian's base - if he agrees to clean his wings first. And to stop him from sneaking off and working instead, Scar insists on watching him the whole time. This puts Grian, master of deflection and ignoring his feelings, in a rather tricky situation.

Honestly anything by this author is amazing, they've got a way with words that i find so magnificient, and it comes out so beautifully when coupled with their great characterisations. Honestly i'm weak to preening fic anyway, this is so soft and in love and if you've been yearning for them gay love, I would suggest you give it a try!!

8. A Certain Je Ne Sais What by @good-chimes

Literally any one of Grian’s friends would be a better soulmate than Scar, and Grian is going to prove this scientifically. Grian’s already felt it, a pinprick in his thumb. He’s familiar—he’s so painfully, unforgettably familiar—with the way Scar sees something and is already reaching out to touch it before he’s asked questions like 'what is this' and 'is it bad news' and 'is it going to hurt me, Scar, and by extension the unwilling bystander my physical sensations are now linked to'. Scar just immediately reaches out.

Another author I'm obsessed with. Pure bangers. This particular fic of them is one of my favourite, purely because of how well it gets the personality of Scar and Grian. It's so much them reading it again makes my heart vibrates: these are the men I (metaphorically) fell in love with. It is also frankly hilarious. So very Grian to list everything like that and still cuddle up to Scar. Big seal of approval, love this fic!

9. Graveyard Cinderella (the whole cemetery cryptid au) by @sisyphean-torment

As a necromancer, the last thing Scar expected when he dug up a coffin to raise someone from the dead and con them out of their valuables, was for the resident to already be alive. It only gets more confusing from there. Or, hey what the fuck is up with Grian

This AU is soo funny and I'm fascinated by everyone's deal, author has a way to write everything so naturally and yet we barely get some details about what's happening, which is one of my favourite kind of stories!! Though really, check out anything they've written, it's a gold mine :>

10. do you ever think of me and my two hands? by froggenbie

Grian and Scar drift back to each other throughout every season of the Life series. Except drifting makes it sound like it’s an accident, like it’s not purposeful. Like it’s not love. Like it’s not fate. or: hearts embroidered in clothes, puppy love laughter, three seasons of mountains, and a big fuck you to the universe or or: desert duo’s history throughout the life smp

I really liked this one!! The writing is so emotionnal, almost poetic, and I love this type of stories that explore characters within the bounds of canon (almost!).

11. out of memory and time by @purple-nightfall-writes

Scar looked at him with interest. “You’ve been living here, all by yourself, for five years? I think I’d go crazy." “Well, can’t promise I haven’t,” Grian said, shamefaced. After all, minutes earlier, he’d tapped into ancient magic to scream at a total stranger. Likely not a total stranger, actually… he mused, remembering the matching rings. There was an obvious question they raised. It was much too weighty to ask. “Do you think we knew each other?” he asked instead. “During the months we both lost, I mean.” Scar leaned back, thinking for a moment. “I mean, we must have at least met, right? If I knew your name, and you’ve got a ring I enchanted.” Grian startled slightly. He hadn’t really had time to process the implications of the name, on top of everything else. “You used my real name,” he said quietly. “Not many people even knew that one.” Or: Famed wizard Scar finds himself wandering in an unfamiliar land with no memory of how he got there. Grian, the dutiful Watcher, finds himself staring at a reflection he doesn't quite recognize, haunted by a sense of unease. Together, they must figure out what happened and what connects them to each other.

Another friend :D This fic is so cute and really funny, I promise, once you read it fully the silly gets you ahahahha. Man, Scar and Grian in here are dumb in the best way.

12. Scar's Magical Emporium for Lost Grians by butterfly_wings

Things! It's Scar's Magical Emporium for Lost Things. - Grian (Scar runs a shop for lost objects. Grian is the unfortunate soul who keeps appearing in the store.)

It is SO adorable I immediately fell in love with the premise of this, and it upheld its promise as I read through the story! All in all it's deeply cute, but if you think about the reason behind Grian's appearance there's this bittersweet feeling on your tongue, how Grian is lost and Scar knows it and is so patient with it ahhh <3

13. a little victimless crime by @definitelynotshouting

On a technical level, the rite he’s performing is paltry compared to what he executed all those heady months back– chalk-powder in concentric circles, a matchbook, the potential for flame. Simple. Too simple; any of his old professors (Academy-trained, tried, and true) would have failed him for presenting such a stripped summoning spell. But half the magic lies in intent– with enough bull-headed, scrabbling belief, you can claw anything into a shape of your choosing. Grian had taught him that. One breath. Two. No room for doubt– no room for second chances. Scar strikes the match and, with a deft flick of his hand, tosses it into the chalk-powder.

A bit of a short one but I'm frankly enamoured with the rich universe the author managed to write in so few words. (One of my favourite author too, please check them out!) The way Scar and Grian fit together, the way their softness is contrasted by their fury at the world for wronging them... Amazing. I'd read a hundred more of them.

(The next two fics are '&' (platonic), but I didn't have enough to make two list separately so if you want Grian and Scar in all their forms, you can read those too, they're amazing, but please don't bother authors about it thank you)

14. Interlude From Another Reality: Peacock's-Eye by @sixteenth-days

"My assistant," announced Scar Goodtimes, newly-promoted Head Archivist of the Peacock's-Eye Institute, to nobody in particular except maybe the paused audio recording software on his laptop, or perhaps the small pile of tape recorders his predecessor'd left piled on a shelf in the corner, or arguably the little peacock-feather eye logo that dotted the office as haphazardly as it did the entire Institute, "is weird." (In which Scar is Grian's Archivist, and Grian is Scar's assistant.)

Ok skirting the edges of small fics here, but I really liked this fic!! You don't necessarily need to read the hermitcraft serie to get it, just have some basic knowledge from the podcast, but be aware this fic contains spoilers for the original TMA! Absolutely love how Grian was written here, he's just a funny little guy, and all the possessive use on words despite him not knowing the source, chef's kiss!!

15. catching signals that sound in the dark by @droidofmay

“Poultry Man, I’m gonna have to ask you to step back,” Scar said, and Grian went still. “Or, y’know, I guess I’m telling you? Definitely telling you, this is an order– step away from the Voidsong. Remove your digits from his person now, please, or I am going to have to explode you and explain that to Pearl and she will never give me extra concert tickets ever again.” Scar had his bow drawn, an arrow pointed in Grian’s direction. He was close enough that it would tear through Grian’s host body like paper, though the explosives in Scar’s quiver would’ve been more effective, and he was tense around the eyes, a wobbling downturn to his mouth. His voice had trembled, emotion leaking through like before he’d gone professional. Grian knew how those feelings tasted from the inside. He knew those hands, that vascular system, how Scar’s smooth voice felt as it vibrated out of his throat, as his tongue shaped the words– and that was what drew him back from Voidsong, even if it really would’ve been wiser to keep himself intertwined, because he knew that terror, too. Incredibly well. Way too well, as a matter of fact.

I'm thinking of this fic at least once a week. I'm such a fan of complicated relationships, and adding in the mix Grian as some strange symbiote thing? Complicated doesn't even begin to describe the way Grian was wrapped inside Scar's body so deep like a second soul, intertwined in such disturbing manner, I live for that!! The way they know each other so intimately and yet there's so many dark stains on each other's understanding, I'm so unwell it's not even funny. Odaigahara is such an amazing author in general, the words gut you. Like a knife, those sentences cut through your skin to twist your insides, and there's nothing you can do but continue to read.

Anyways that's it! It was my first time doing a fics rec, I hope it was to everyone's liking!! Please give some love to the authors, as an author myself I know most of us get oh so happy to see a little comment in our inbox or even a kudo!!

You can also contribute by putting your favourite under 1k kudos scarian fic in the tags or reblogs!

Amazing day to all, hope you'll find some fics you haven't heard of before :>

And if you have read them all... well you get the knowledge that you have excellent taste 😌

#fics rec #talking #scarian #please don't hesitate to ask me to change things #i did my best

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butteronabun · 8 months ago

Note

diluc + EXES EXES EXES PLEASE (HIIII butter on a bun ^_^ i will Enable you because i have a playlist for him dedicated to this shit) + canon/modern au, etc — pick whatever YOU were thinking writing the request post + spin the wheel and pick a genre~ again, this request is an excuse to hear YOUR thoughts (i have some of my own)

extra: pick whether you want it to be she/her or g/n~ i’m fine with both 🫶

sincerely, 🥩 (who missed you and hasn’t caught up with recent posts bc i was busy </3)

wish that i had more of this borrowed time

a diluc ragnvindr x female reader exes au.

overview: diluc’s heart is his greatest foe.

wc: 3.2k

notes: originally this was 5k words but that was so much & i didn’t want to complicate this more so TAKE IT 😙 this is also a bit open-ended so feel free to interpret this however you like!! also, additional notes will be in the end, so better check that out too :)

“You’re going to break that glass, Master Diluc,” remarks Kaeya Alberich himself, who is this close to purchasing popcorn to watch the ‘drama’ that he has been observing for a while now. Weinlesefest truly has its wonders – fresh wine, good company, and a brother who definitely still isn’t over his ex, even if said brother continues to deny it. “You look under the weather. Why not take a breather and enjoy the sights? You have a loyal staff that’s willing to oversee the Angel’s Share stand for a while.”

Diluc’s cold, unwavering glare remains on that face of his. Kaeya’s almost certain that comparing his ice from his cryo vision with Diluc’s expression will have no difference at all. “I am doing fine, Master Kaeya.” He looks down at the glass he has wiped for—Kaeya guesses—the fifth time now, and picks up another one.

“Really? But it’s becoming a little hot, Master Diluc. I’ve noticed that as the minutes pass by, the temperature of the stand has been concerningly rising as of late. Are you secretly heating up some tasty bar snacks, or is it something else?”

Kaeya suppresses a smirk when the warmth around them subdues momentarily. He has one theory that he’s sure is actually true—a theory where that ‘heat’ is coming from, and it’s definitely not the wind.

It’s the ninth month of the calendar. Summer’s already over. So it’s safe to say that. . .

“Don’t you have other matters to tend to?” Diluc narrows his eyes at him. Oh, changing the subject now, aren’t we? “Surely, Cavalry Captains still have to scout the area for any potential threats during Weinlesefest, or have the knights really gone incompetent?”

“Oh, you. Everyone deserves to enjoy the festival every once in a while,” Kaeya raises his keg playfully. “And that includes even you.”

Diluc just grumbles at that. Still stubborn as always, but Kaeya remembers the day when the traveler told him a few years ago that Diluc, despite isolating himself during the previous festivals, reveled. (Reveled on his own, was what they clarified.) It’s a comforting thought that even such a busy man as himself can still enjoy these moments.

And Kaeya wishes he’d see it more.

Diluc willingly taking charge of the Angel Share’s stand instead of Charles? How endearing. Is it really because he’s here for the celebration, or something else?

(Kaeya—and he’s pretty sure, Diluc is, too—hears nearby footsteps. Familiar voices.)

Or someone else?

Whatever it is, Kaeya is fine with either.

“Still baffles me that my suggested proposals got rejected— ah, we’re here. Oh, hi, Kaeya!”

Kaeya sips his beer and smiles at you. “Hey.” And he watches it all unfold again. You smile back at him, before slowly turning to Diluc, who has never taken his eyes off of you ever since your arrival.

You hide a lock of your hair behind your ear timidly. “Hi, Diluc.”

It’s really fascinating to see his brother still so soft with you. People may not notice this, but Kaeya knows Diluc best. “Good evening. What would you like tonight?”

“Ah – my company here—” you turn to the man beside you, a fellow colleague perhaps, and Kaeya seriously has to control himself from smirking. The area’s heating up again. “—would like to try some of the Fruits of the Festival that we’ve been hearing of. Is it still available?”

Diluc nods. “Yours?”

“I don’t want anything, actually—”

“Please, don’t do that,” The man calls out your name, and steps forward. The warmth’s growing. “If you think that you’re treating me tonight, then I’ll be treating you as well. Bartender, I’ll be ordering Wolfhook Juice for this lovely lady.”

The man winks at you, confident with himself, until Diluc breaks the flair by simply saying, “She’s allergic to that.”

Ah, this is great. Kaeya’s considering if he should bring Rosaria or even Lisa along for the drama.

“W–wait, really? You’re allergic to Wolfhook?”

“Ah, D–Diluc—” As much as Kaeya relishes in dear Diluc’s jealousy, your expressions are also just as priceless. Speechless that his amazing brother still has one detail about you memorized? Pfft. Such is a man of great talent who has a knack for processing knowledge in such a short time. He’s a businessman, after all. It’s important to know a lot of things. “You still remember that?”

Diluc doesn’t reply to that question. Instead, he goes on preparing the drink with ease and in silence. Kaeya can feel the awkwardness in the air as they watch Diluc swiftly mix the ingredients, and the man accompanying you merely coughs to dissipate the tension.

“So, um,” The man starts, “I’ve heard that Starsnatch Cliff looks beautiful at this time of night. I was wondering if you’d like to stargaze with me?”

You seem sheepish. “Oh, I—”

There’s a loud thud, surprising everyone, except for Kaeya and Diluc themselves. Diluc has placed the glass in front of the man, face emotionless. “It’s late. Dangerous, even. I recommend that you postpone such a journey.”

Kaeya hides his smile behind his keg. Oh, Diluc. Could you get even more obvious? He wishes to voice out that poor Klee and the other children might get scared because of his ‘grumpy face’ again, but it is late and they’re not here anymore, so it isn’t a valid reason to mention.

Oh, the area’s hotter now. The man is visibly sweating under the intimidating man’s stare. “A–Ah, I see- t–thank you for that then, good sir—”

“Diluc, don’t scare him,” you scold him lightly, and take the glass. “And we’ll be fine, I have a vision.”

His stupid brother’s about to protest, and Kaeya readies himself for another session of ‘Diluc Facepalming Himself Because He Made A Fool of Himself In Front of his Ex’ when you add on:

“Though, Diluc’s right. It’s dangerous to go out right now since I’ve heard from the outriders that the concentration of hilichurl camps around that area is growing in size again. So we shouldn’t go.” You give the man his drink, and gesture him to an empty table. “And didn’t you tell me you’re tired already? Why not sit down for a while?”

Once you two are seated on a table that’s too far for Diluc’s liking, Kaeya sighs and shakes his head. Diluc glowers at him. “What?”

“Attentive as ever.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Diluc says as he crosses his arms.

“The least thing you could do is be attentive to her well–being, even though you’re not her lover anymore?” The temperature intensifies. Oops. Kaeya stepped on something he shouldn’t. But it’s always so fun to get on Diluc’s nerves. “Admit it, you still haven’t moved on.”

Diluc then retorts, “Is it so bad to care for an old friend?” “So that’s what you call her now?”

“Kaeya,” Diluc warns.

“Diluc~” Kaeya pleasantly sings. Then, his lips part into an ‘o.’ “My, I smell something burning. Are you really cooking something up?”

Kaeya doesn’t bat an eyelash on the slightly scorched bartop.

Diluc’s heart is his greatest foe.

He has too much love in his heart, and oftentimes, it causes him great anguish.

He wanted to rip his heart out the night his father passed on. He wanted to stomp on it after causing Kaeya harm.

And he wanted to abandon it, just like how you did.

“Let’s end this,” you told him one dinner, with your head dipped down, not wanting to meet his eyes. You trembled as you anticipated his response, but you didn’t get one. Diluc was left aghast. “This isn’t working for the both of us, Diluc.”

Such was the fate of a Ragnvindr who dedicated his time to protecting the city and thwarting the enemies that threatened his nation. Such is the fate of a Ragnvindr who occupied himself with the winery’s business ventures.

Such was the fate of a Ragnvindr, who, despite having a big heart, had failed his lover.

He wanted to say—maybe we could try again. I will be better this time. He knew he could solve this, if he could think of strategies to counterattack the abyss, or even keep his competitors on their toes with his new business plans, surely, he could remedy this.

“I have too much on my plate. You have too much on yours. Let us end this before we affect each other.”

When your tears cascaded down your cheeks, Diluc wanted to wipe them away. But he couldn’t even move. Not even an inch. How could he, when his heart was being shattered to pieces?

You had too much on your plate? Why didn’t you say anything? You know he’d always be here for you.

So why?

He wanted to say — then let’s face them together.

But you had other plans.

It was over.

And he understood.

“How fortunate that our dear cutie decided to visit this year’s Weinlesefest,” Lisa says as she touches the petals of the cecilias. She’s here in Diluc’s garden. Lisa, for some reason, has the tendency to make unannounced visits. She smiles up at Diluc who’s observing her from the gazebo. “Don’t you feel the same way too, Diluc? That she’s here again, after almost two and a half years.”

Diluc crosses his arms. “I fail to understand why I’d have to voice out my opinions on the matter.”

“Ah, but didn’t you say something to Kaeya? Supposedly, shouldn’t you be happy that an ‘old friend’ came back?”

Diluc averts his gaze, and Lisa smiles even wider before tending back to the flowers.

“She favors these, don't they? Cecilia flowers.” Lisa sniffs one. This one smells very fresh. It’s as if all the flowers here are greatly taken care of. “Oh, this takes me back. I still recall how you and her first met. You two were so adorable! She used to chase you around, desperate for your attention. And despite your attempts to push her away, she still managed to win you over. Her blushing face was the absolute best when you gifted her a bouquet of cecilias. Really, who knew that you could get so romantic?”

Lisa lifts her head and fixates on the clouds. “She’s your first love, right? And you treasured her so.” She checks to see if Diluc’s still there, and he is.

He’s still sulking like the baby he is.

“Diluc?”

Lisa can hear him murmur, but it’s not too audible for her ears to pick up. “I beg your pardon?”

“. . .her favorite.”

Lisa tilts her head. “Favorite?”

“Cecilia flowers.” Diluc says. “They’re not her favorite.”

“Oh, my. So what’s her favorite, then?”

Diluc is reluctant. But he answers anyway. “Small lamp grass flowers.”

Oh, Lisa knows.

She just wanted to hear him say it.

No one knows how much Diluc has struggled during the first months of your breakup with him.

He got moody, at times. Even slept in too much, which was surprising, because he wasn’t the type of person to sleep, not at all, when he had errands to run. He was a business owner by day, and a vigilante by night—he shouldn’t coop himself up inside his quarters all the time just to let his broken heart weep.

So even if those days, those weeks, those months, were nothing but unimaginable suffering – Diluc had to rise. Someone still had to face the darkness for the dawn.

The overseeing of the winery and the scouting of adversaries were great distractions to someone like him.

But he couldn’t deny the fact that whenever he was resting, or even had one moment of leisure, those thoughts canw creeping in. How were you? Where were you? Are you faring well? Do you still yearn for him, as much as he yearns for you?

Are you as ruined as he is?

Diluc didn’t expect that breakups could get this hard. He thought the drunkards in his taverns were over exaggerating it a bit too much because of the alcohol, but now, he could understand.

( He didn’t resort to alcoholism, though. )

He really tried to get over you. He really did. He really tried to forget.

But how could he, when he cherished you so?

How could he, when his heart continuously ached for you? How could he, when he longed for you desperately after you left Mondstadt.

( ”There are plenty of fish in the sea. There are lots of daughters from various nations wanting to be your wife! Why not choose any of them, to fill that hole in your chest?”

The last time a patron told Master Diluc those exact words, he nearly banished them from his tavern. )

Moving on was not an option here, it seemed, when everything reminded Diluc of you.

He saw you everywhere. You liked talking a lot, and he liked listening to you, even before you two were dating. Every experience, every anecdote, every musing, and every vent — he remembered it all.

Diluc knew what type of coffee you liked. At first, you weren’t such a big fan of them, but you found one that suited your taste. ( “Just one cup is enough, though. Two or more will make me palpitate!” ) Pepperoni became your favorite pizza topping when you ate with Jean when she invited you for lunch out of gratitude. ( “Cheesy spinach is a close second!” ) You liked reading books and seemed to get lost in them a lot; you even excitedly discussed your reviews to him of the novels or pieces of information you’ve read. ( “Like can you believe it?! He had a twin brother all along!” or “Now I understand why you have such a big chair in your office! It’s because it signifies your status! ” )

You were so endearing. Diluc really, really loved every bit of you and made sure to give you the love that you deserved. He tried his best as he could to provide you with the affection that you needed.

Yet it still wasn’t enough.

Because if it did, Diluc would still be here at his dining table, reading his documents and sipping coffee with you. If it did, you’d still offer Diluc one slice of pepperoni or cheesy spinach pizza after your lunch with Jean. If it did, you would still bother him underneath the sheets until late hours into the night regarding the mundane and the interesting.

Move on, they said. They were all growing concerned.

Move on, a rational part of him also said. It was for his own good.

But he had always been stubborn.

(

“Master Diluc’s single?! Again?”

“The most eligible bachelor’s throne is his once more.”

“Back off, even if the Master’s single, he won’t give you no heed. Just give up.”

“Come on, support me a little! I just want to give him a good time. Don’t you think I have a chance?”

“Not one bit, lass. Not one bit.” )

Weinlesefest is in full swing—

“Yet here you are, moping.” A green bard sits on the pier beside Diluc, who’s currently throwing rocks onto the surface of the water. “Master Diluc, shouldn’t you be out there and celebrate? Or did you choose to stay here because you haven’t scored a date?”

Diluc narrows his eyes at him curtly, before throwing another stone into the water.

“A silent treatment for me, I see,” The bard strings his lyre, “But I have no worry, for you’ll answer me eventually.”

Diluc sighs. “She’s occupied as of the moment.”

“Oh~? I see that the tables have turned, then?”

Diluc scoffs. Of course he also knows about what had happened before. “Really. What’s your purpose for being here? And stop with your rhyming. It’s annoying me.”

The bard snickers. Stroke a chord it seems. “It’s the second to the last day of this festive event, and I’ve yet to see you participate. Minus the fact of taking care of the Angel Share’s stall, but you must at least do something that’s not related to work.”

“It’s in my blood to dedicate myself when it comes to work.” Diluc throws another stone. “I have no other choice, Venti.”

“Yet here you are, skipping stones?”

“Here I am, skipping stones.”

The bard sighs sadly. As he kicks his legs back and forth, he says - “Do you remember the Thousand-Wind Wine Razor made with the Traveler?”

“Of course. The barrel they used belongs to my winery.”

There’s another silence. Then Venti speaks again. “The wind is many things, you know. It can bring back the soul, and especially, preserve memories—you know of the fact that dandelion seeds are added last as a way of capturing the wind at the very moment when the barrel is sealed. Meaning, the memory of that ‘moment’ is stored in the wine, for all eternity.”

“And your point is?”

“Let yourself be happy this once.”

After the citizens of Mondstadt welcomed the Anemo God, they all felt the gentle breeze kissing their skin as he graciously made himself present into the wind. The children cheered, and the adults raised their cups for a toast. Everyone was having a splendid time.

“To the Anemo Archon!”

You, however, have just finished preparing for your departure back to Sumeru. After packing your belongings and making sure you didn’t leave anything in the inn, you had to go find your companion — who’s still probably busy trying out new drinks.

You sigh at that, a little amused. You also resign to this fate. The journey to Sumeru will have to wait until later. Plus, you haven’t even properly said your goodbyes to the others, so, there’s that.

A polite cough echoes behind you. You turn around, and your heart flutters at the sight of a familiar man. Diluc.

“May I request a bit of your time?” He asks, always so gently.

You’re pleased and surprised, of course - because it’s Diluc. Diluc, who’s obviously seeking you, even if he’s made clear that he’s occupied with duties of the winery.

You want to humor him a little bit, so you snicker. “But what if I don’t want to?” You gesture to your satchel. “I’m preparing for my departure, you see.”

Diluc already knows that, doesn’t he? He doesn’t even react. “If that’s the case, then I respect your decision.”

Oh, that’s a bit disappointing. You kind of want to slap yourself for that. You should’ve just accepted Diluc’s request instead of pulling stuff like this. Why play hard to get, when Diluc’s already—

“But I beg of you,” Diluc adds, and you blink. There’s determination in his eyes, and your heart skips a beat when you notice that there’s also something else. “Before you leave. . . please, spend time with me. All it takes is just a short moment with you, and I’ll be content. I won’t ask for anything more.”

—making initiative, huh.

How can you say no to that?

You smile at him—a little bit too tenderly. “Alright then, Diluc.” You lift a hand, gesturing for him to take it. “Lead the way.”

supposedly this was seriously longer, it had more plot ( i indulged on this way too much when i was writing this but had to omit a lot of stuff because i was getting overboard + wanted to more focus on how diluc interacts with his ex / what he feels about his ex / what he felt without his ex asfghjfk also, here's one screenshot before i deleted this part; i wasn't rlly kidding that it had more substance and it was originally angsty:

anw. shoutout to my bestie who brainstormed with me abt ex diluc hcs it was so fun. lemme share to y'all what we talked abt: 1) we thought that diluc is the type of person who’d date to marry, 2) his heart is so so freaking loyal he'd still pine for his first love, and 3) he falls hard and is stupidly sentimental plus. if he did have an ex, the breakup will def bother / ruin / devastate him, especially when he loved that person sm :(

#diluc x reader #diluc x female reader #finally posted one of the requests !!#i still LIVE #/ ignores the pile of backlogs i have to finish #meat anon feel free to share me ur tots abt diluc being an ex because i’m genuinely CURIOUS #aaaackkk #edit: i actually was so obsessed with this i listened to two songs #just to feel it #and write it #oh diluc i love u sm #thank u for this request!!!! 😍#melted.butter

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