#yet its so soft and gentle and not quite real

[streamdotpng]

Boundaries,

Enid knew she was going to get a roommate.

New transfer. Make sure to treat her well, they’d said.

She hadn’t expected much. Hadn’t cared, really. It had been nice to have the room to herself. Quiet in the morning. Quiet at night. Nobody to ask what she was doing, or why she hadn’t gone to lunch, or why she left her desk light on until four in the morning.

The thought of someone else stepping into it now, dragging in their own clutter, their own habits, their own presence—

Well.

She wasn’t dreading it. That would be childish and she wasn't a child.

It would be different. Irritating. Annoying.

But what could she do?

Nothing. That���s what.

Her steps picked up, the stairwell narrowing around her as sweat slipped between her shoulder blades. She sighed, wiping the sweat from the back of her neck.

Enid was late.

She should’ve been there earlier. Should’ve smiled. Offered help with the bags, pointed to the Quad, said something toothy and upbeat with the kind of friendliness people had come to expect from her.

She could be bright, when she had to be. Pleasant.

Harmless.

But not today. So she’d thrown herself into club meetings, cleaning duty, anything that took long enough to look like a good excuse. Let the hours slip by. Let someone else be the welcome party.

Miss Weems might frown. Probably would. She would give a gentle reminder about community and connection. A soft nudge in the direction of being a better werewolf.

Enid would nod. She always did.

She was kind. She was normal. She’d spent years building herself into someone who fit neatly into that box. Someone easy to like, to assign school duties too. Someone who smiled first and forgave quickly.

But as she reached the top floor, her jog slowing to a hesitant walk, something in her chest coiled tight. Her door looked the same but her pulse was picking up anyway.

Something felt off.

Maybe it’d be fine.

Werewolves were supposed to be pack animals, after all. She was one, technically. She knew the theory. She understood what being close was supposed to feel like.

Maybe having someone there would be better. Not all the time, obviously. But sometimes.

She wouldn’t know unless she opened the door.

So she did.

“Howdy, Roomie! I’m En—”

Whatever she’d meant to say died in her throat.

Half the window. Her window, the one she’d painstakingly taped up to block the worst of the light was now stripped bare, its curled remains littered across the floor like a storm had torn through. And standing near the wreckage, entirely unapologetic, was a walking memory she’d never quite buried deep enough.

Wednesday Addams.

Of course it was her.

In all her funeral wrapped, sharp edged glory.

She was shorter than Enid remembered. Smaller in frame but never in presence. No, she still carried herself like the world was a stage and she’d already outlived the script. Paler, too. Like she hadn’t stepped into the sun since Enid last saw her, and maybe that was on purpose. The braids were the same, sans the noose but the rest of her had carved itself sharper. Harsher.

She looked like a punchline Enid had been waiting years to unhear.

It would’ve been easier if she looked different. If she looked like someone else entirely.

But no.

No.

She had the audacity to stand there and ruin everything just by being here.

Wednesday Addams was older now, but not enough. Enid hated how it made her chest ache, hated the sting behind her teeth when she looked too long. Because she still looked like that girl Enid had spent years trying to forget ever existed.

Yet here she was. Real. Breathing.

Back in her space. Back in her head.

Still dressed like death came easy to her.

Still acting like Enid was the one who owed her something.

How horrible, that a part of Enid already wanted to hand it over.

“Nid—”

“What the hell are you doing!?” It spat from her mouth like instinct, like self defense. It was always easier to get angry. Easier than to figure out why there was a rush in her head.

Wednesday blinked as she stood, slow and unbothered, like she'd been expecting Enid eventually. Her expression barely shifted, but her brows knit ever so slightly as if confusion had crept in, not from what she’d done to the room but from seeing her.

Her eyes dragged across the mess she made like it wasn’t mess at all, like she was appraising the space for how much more she could take now. Then her gaze returned to Enid, steady and searching. Piecing her apart, from muscle to bone.

“I was dividing our room equally,” she said flatly.

Enid’s fists curled at her sides. She tried to breathe through it, to keep her voice even, her stance cool. But it was Wednesday. And she’d always had a talent for dragging Enid right to the edge of herself.

Wednesday stood by the window like she hadn’t just ripped the balance out of the room by its throat. One boot dug casually into the strip of her shredded tape like it was nothing more than a cracked leaf beneath her heel. The coat she wore hung off her body in that oversized, swallow you whole kind of way, too big for her frame but somehow perfect. Like it had been made for how small she liked to seem before she struck.

Her posture was relaxed in that unnerving, deliberate way she’d always carried like she’d just won a game Enid hadn’t realized they were playing.

Then she looked at her. Really looked.

Her head tilted, black braids slipping over one shoulder. There was a pause. A pause like a wire tightening. Then came the word.

“Niddy.”

She said it softly. The tone indescribable; could’ve been awe, could’ve been contempt. Could’ve been both.

Enid’s stomach dropped.

She stared, heart in her throat, skin prickling like she’d just heard a secret she wasn’t supposed to remember.

That name.

That name was under lock and key. Buried deep inside her mind.

How unfortunate that Wednesday always had a penchant for lockpicking.

“What.” It was all Enid could force out. Her throat felt too tight for anything else. It landed sharp, brittle, like glass already half cracked.

Wednesday blinked, slow and deliberate, like she’d already figured out the rest of the conversation and was just waiting for Enid to catch up. “I didn’t realize. The file only said ‘E. Sinclair.’ I assumed I’d be rooming with someone bland. A stranger.”

There was no smile. Not exactly but something loosened behind her eyes, a flicker of recognition softening her jaw. It was the kind of softness that made Enid feel seen in the worst way. Peeled open. Named before she could deny it.

“To think it was you,” Wednesday murmured, almost like it was fate. Like it had been written down somewhere years ago that they'd always come back to this.

Enid’s heart thudded and Wednesday’s gaze moved over her in that slow, clinical way. Not cold. Not warm. Just… exact. Like she was double checking that the thing she'd wanted was still intact.

“Your hair is lighter now,” she observed.

Enid could only shrug, too aware of how her limbs felt too big for the room. Too aware of the walls. “Felt like trying something out.”

And then, without warning, Wednesday stepped forward.

Not aggressive. Not cautious. Just sure. Like the space between them had never belonged to Enid at all.

“You still play with your fingers when you’re lying,” she said, not accusing. Almost…

Enid didn't continue the thought.

She made her way to the desk, needing something to do with her hands. Anything that didn’t involve tearing her own skin off just to feel normal again. She let her bag drop with a thud, staring at the wood grains on her desk before she finally allowed herself to speak;

“I hate it when you pull this shit.”

“I know the difference between hatred and annoyance.” Wednesday’s tone was maddeningly calm. Certain. “And you never were. Not with me.”

Enid’s hands froze on their way to her tie. Her jaw clenched. Well times change, don't they? “You don’t know that.”

“I do," Wednesday says, as sure as always, "Just like how I know you used to sleep with your head on my chest when the lights flickered. You said its beat made the dark not so bad.”

Enid gave a bitter laugh, dry and aching. Are they really going to do this? “That was—”

“You named that spider plush by your bed Mrs. Legs after we found them unattached from its body. You cried when I had to stitch it back.”

“So this is what, some guilt-trip stroll down memory lane?”

“Because it was real.” Wednesday didn't pause. “We were real.”

Enid shook her head before looking over her shoulder as she nudged her bag under her desk. “So? That was years ag—”

“You used to say you liked how I never asked you to be anything else." Wednesday's head cocked, a glint in her eyes that made Enid's claws itch. "That I made you feel— what was it?” Wednesday’s lips curled just slightly.

“Needed.”

“Stop.”

“You hated being called Enid. You said it wasn’t yours, just borrowed. You made me promise—”

“Don’t.” The word was harsh. Enid turned, shoulders squared. “Don’t call me that.”

Wednesday didn’t even pause.

“Niddy.”

It was quiet. Barely a breath. But it punched a hole straight through her. It was a name only spoken in blanket forts and hushed classrooms and dim corners where their world had felt untouched.

A name said in the deep dark, when Enid had dirt scuffing her clothes and streaked across her cheek.

There's a hole somewhere, left just as untouched.

Needy.

Enid jerked back like the syllables could crawl into her skin and nest like a parasite.

“It's Enid,” she snapped. “I’m not Niddy. I moved. I grew up. ”

“Did you?” Wednesday asked.

Enid’s hands clenched. Her nails dug into her palms until it stung.

“Did you care that you trashed my window the second you got here?” she snapped instead, clinging to anything that could feel righteous. “You didn’t even ask. You just decided it wasn’t good enough for you.”

“I didn’t trash it,” Wednesday said. “I fixed it.”

“It," Enid starts, fury curling in her gut. "was mine.”

Wednesday looked at her, really looked.

“You have always hated sharing,” she said.

Enid’s fingers dug into her palms. Her mouth opened but nothing came out.

This bi—

The door opened.

“Good evening, girls!” Miss Thornhill’s voice was far too chipper. “Whoops, sorry about the mud."

Enid jumped, grateful for the interruption. She stepped closer to the door, as if the presence of her dorm mother could protect her.

Wednesday gave a glance at the new presence, impassive as ever. Then her gaze slid back to Enid just as Miss Thornhill continued talking.

Enid didn't dare to think too deeply about it.

[thesecondhandwoman]

BETWEEN SILK AND STEAL

Mel x f!reader x Sevika

Synopsis: After a night with your two girlfriends, Mel and Sevika, you get to experience another morning or love and care with light banter.

The first sensation you registered was warmth. It wasn’t the warmth of blankets or the sun creeping through silk curtains — it was the kind that radiated from bare skin pressed against yours. One side of you was wrapped in firm muscle, all sharp edges and strength. The other was decadence itself: smooth, soft skin that smelled of honeyed oils and wealth.

You blinked your eyes open slowly, vision greeted by tousled golden curls. Mel Medarda lay on your left, one hand tucked under her cheek, her lashes long and resting gently against her skin. She slept like a painting — too perfect to be real, her lips slightly parted in serene stillness.

On your right, Sevika snored softly, one arm slung possessively over your waist. Her calloused fingers pressed into your side, anchoring you as if you’d disappear if she let go. Her jawline looked even sharper in the gentle morning glow, a slight frown etched into her features as if she were annoyed by the very concept of “rest.”

Two absolute beauties at your side.

If heaven existed, you had found it.

You tried to shift, but the weight of Sevika’s arm pinned you. You wiggled, but her grip only tightened, pulling you flush against her chest.

“Don’t,” she grumbled, voice thick with sleep. Her eyes didn’t even open. “Stay still, doll.”

Heat rushed to your face at the nickname. You didn’t know if it was endearing or possessive, but it sent a shiver down your spine nonetheless.

“Let her breathe, Sevika,” Mel murmured, her voice like silk dragging across bare skin. Her eyes remained closed, but her lips curled into a smile. “We wouldn’t want her to suffocate after last night.”

Your heart did a full flip. She knew exactly what she was doing — the smugness in her voice was unmistakable.

“Tch, she’s fine,” Sevika muttered, but she begrudgingly loosened her grip. Her fingers still brushed along your side as if reminding you who had you first.

You sighed in relief, stretching your arms above your head. Your muscles ached in that deliciously earned way. Every movement tugged at the phantom echoes of last night. Memories of hands, mouths, and tangled sheets flashed in your mind, your cheeks growing hotter by the second.

Yeah, that happened.

“Someone’s thinking too hard,” Mel teased, propping herself up on one elbow. She reached out, fingers trailing from your shoulder to your wrist. Her touch was featherlight, deliberate. “Regret something, darling?”

The way she purred that last word was borderline criminal.

You turned your face into the pillow to hide the grin that fought its way to your lips. “No, not even a little...”

“Good answer.” Her nails grazed the back of your neck, sending goosebumps trailing down your spine. She leaned in, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “We don’t like regrets here.”

Sevika snorted, half amused, half awake. “Speak for yourself, princess. I’ve got plenty.”

Mel arched a brow at her. “A list, I’m sure. But I doubt she’s on it.”

Sevika’s gaze finally cracked open. Her steel-gray eyes shifted toward you, sharp and assessing, but there was something softer there too. She grunted, clearly too tired to argue. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Yet?” you gasped, mock-offended. “I thought I was perfect.”

“Perfect is temporary,” Sevika smirked, eyes already closing again. “You’re a mess. But you’re our mess now, so quit whining.”

Your heart thudded hard against your ribcage. The weight of that statement lingered longer than expected, and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Careful, Sev,” Mel said, her golden eyes meeting yours with that knowing look she always wore. “Say things like that, and she might think you’re catching feelings.”

Sevika’s response was a sharp, dismissive snort, but the arm around your waist tightened just a little. You felt the contradiction in her. She didn’t say anything more, and that silence spoke louder than any words.

Time slipped away lazily, like honey poured from a spoon. The three of you lingered in bed longer than any of you probably should have. For Mel, mornings were typically scheduled to the second, and Sevika, well, she was usually the first to leave. But this morning was different.

Mel eventually rose with an exaggerated sigh. She tossed the sheets off with an elegance you’d never master, slipping out of bed in one fluid movement. Her silk robe was draped over a chair, and she pulled it around her shoulders, tying it at the waist with a grace that made you feel under-dressed despite being completely naked.

“Breakfast?” she offered, glancing over her shoulder as she walked toward the door. Her gaze lingered on you longer than necessary, her smile slow and knowing. “Or shall I leave you two to… entertain yourselves?”

You felt Sevika shift behind you. Her breath tickled the back of your neck, and her voice was low in your ear. “We could stay here a little longer, baby.” Her lips brushed against the nape of your neck, just enough to make you shiver.

“Don’t start without me,” Mel warned, not even looking back as she exited the room. Her tone was playful, but something about it was also serious. You didn’t doubt for a second that she’d be back sooner than expected.

The door clicked shut.

Sevika huffed a laugh into your hair. “Bossy, isn’t she?”

“The line of Medardas usually are,” you murmured, tilting your head to glance back at her. Her face was barely an inch away from yours, eyes sharp but drowsy, her hair disheveled from sleep.

“Yeah,” she agreed, “but you like it.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Her fingers brushed the side of your face, rough but careful, like she was afraid you’d break if she applied too much pressure. You leaned into her touch, letting yourself have the softness of the moment. It wasn’t often Sevika let herself be like this. Her guard was always up, always ready to fight, but here, she was simply here.

Her fingers traced along your jaw, her eyes focused on you with an intensity that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t before. “Did you mean it?” she asked quietly.

“Mean what?”

“Not regretting it.” Her gaze didn’t waver, and suddenly, you felt like you were standing on the edge of something.

You reached up, placing your hand on top of hers. “I meant it,” you said, and you meant it with your whole chest. “No regrets.”

Something in her face shifted. It wasn’t much, just the tiniest crease in her brow relaxing, but you knew her well enough by now to know what that meant.

“Good,” she said, like that one word was the answer to everything.

Her lips were on yours a second later. Not rough, not rushed — slow, deliberate, like she was taking her time tasting every part of you. Her hand cupped your jaw, thumb stroking along your cheek, her warmth seeping into you until you could feel it in your chest.

The kiss deepened, and you gasped against her mouth as she pulled you tighter against her. Her teeth grazed your bottom lip, and you let out a soft whimper that you immediately regretted because—

Click.

The door opened, and Mel’s voice floated in, a touch too amused. “I knew you wouldn’t wait.”

Sevika pulled back just enough to smirk against your lips, her eyes still half-lidded. “Took you long enough, princess.”

“Patience, darling,” Mel replied, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. She approached with a tray of fruit, cheese, and bread, the kind of breakfast that looked too pretty to eat. Her eyes met yours, warm and sharp all at once.

“Hungry?” she asked, setting the tray down beside you. Her gaze flickered to Sevika, and her smile curled at the edges. “For food, I mean.”

Your stomach growled in response, and all three of you burst into laughter.

Yeah. No regrets.

A/N: I have seen so much about Melvika that I hard to write something about it (and now I’m wondering if I should do something with Sevika and Ambessa or Sevika, Mel, and Lest with f!reader).

[theosang3ls]

When you know, you know

inspired by “Margaret” by Lana Del Rey

pairing: Theodore Nott x F!Reader

summary: Theo had asked you out on a date, and though hesitant at first, you agreed. What began with uncertainty soon unfolded into something quietly profound—an afternoon that made you realise how deeply you longed to be truly seen, and made Theo realise he didn’t want anyone else but you.

warnings: pure fluff, reader talks a lot

A/N: I was literally giggling and kicking my feet while writing this, this is my favourite work that I’ve ever written. Dedicated to all my girlies who get called weird and are hopeless romantics💋 I’m kind of honouring the arrival of late spring through this fic as well, I just love how nature wakes up again at this time of year. English is not my first language, I’m sorry for any grammatical errors!

𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You were currently out on a date with Theo.

Even now, as the afternoon sun spilled like liquid gold across the foothills and warmed your skin, it didn't feel entirely real. Just days ago, he had asked you out—his voice soft, steady, almost shy. The memory of it still sat like a folded letter in your mind: unexpected, delicate, something you hadn't dared imagine opening. It caught you so off guard you almost laughed. Theo, asking you out? It seemed impossible. Not because he was distant or arrogant—he never had been—but because you had never thought of him that way, never considered the possibility that he might be thinking of you like that.

And yet, he had. And now here you were—sitting cross-legged on a thick carpet of grass that had just returned to life after the hush of winter, your back resting against the smooth bark of a fallen yule log, as if nature had prepared the seat just for you. Across from you, Theo mirrored your posture, tracing the fresh, supple blades of grass with slow, deliberate fingers. His gaze kept drifting to you, unguarded, soft as a sigh, as if he couldn't quite believe you were real.

You had hesitated when he asked you out. Something inside you had told you to be cautious, to hold back. Maybe it was doubt, or maybe fear—the kind that creeps in when something good shows up unexpectedly, and you worry it might vanish just as fast. You'd even considered canceling the date. Told yourself it would be easier, cleaner, safer. But you hadn't. Something kept you from backing out—something in the way he looked at you when you weren't paying attention, or maybe the steadiness in his voice when he spoke to you like you mattered.

So you said yes. And now the world was draped in a kind of magic you hadn't expected.

The place he brought you to felt like it had been waiting for you. It was a hidden pocket of paradise tucked beneath the arms of the mountain's lower slopes, just far enough from Hogwarts’ castle to feel secret, sacred. The forest around you had awakened in vibrant celebration—leaves the color of fresh emeralds trembled in the soft breeze, catching sunlight like fragments of stained glass. The trees stood tall and proud, their bark still dark with winter's memory, but their branches bursting with life. Tiny wildflowers had erupted from the soil in chaotic, joyful colors—brilliant golds, purples like bruised dusk, whites soft as snow—and they danced when the wind passed, as though the earth was laughing quietly to itself.

The air was rich with scent—warm moss, young grass, the faint sweetness of blooming buds and petals still unfurling. Birds sang from the canopy above in a chorus that seemed improvised, but somehow perfectly orchestrated. Somewhere nearby, a brook whispered its way through stones, its voice threading through the wind like a lullaby. The sunlight filtered through the leaves in golden shafts, casting gentle shadows that shifted as the breeze stirred the treetops. You could feel it all—the hum of life, the pulse of the earth beneath you—as if the land itself was exhaling after a long, still winter.

"So... you come here regularly?" you asked, your voice quieter than usual, reverent. You tilted your head as you looked around, eyes trying to take in every inch of the place, to memorize it the way you wanted to memorize the feeling blooming in your chest.

Theo was watching you with that same quiet intensity, a softness behind his smile like he was letting himself fall and wasn't afraid to. "Not too regularly," he said, his voice just above a murmur, "but it's kind of perfect this time of year."

You smiled at that, a small, slow smile that tugged at your lips like sunlight creeping through morning curtains. "It really is." Your eyes drifted upward, to the wide open sky above, so bright and blue it looked endless. The sunlight dazzled your vision and made you squint, but you didn't look away. You wanted to feel it—to let the light pour into you and settle deep in your bones.

"You really love nature, huh?" he asked after a moment, his voice laced with curiosity, but also admiration. You weren't looking at him, but he was definitely looking at you.

"There's nothing more beautiful," you said, your gaze still tethered to the vast sky above, your voice laced with a gentle wonder that curled around Theo's heart like ivy. "The way the wind brushes through the trees... it doesn't just move the leaves—it gives them a soul for a moment, makes them twirl and flutter like they're dancing for the sheer joy of being alive. Or how the birds begin to fly lower when rain is near, like they carry the sky's secrets beneath their wings. And even the tiniest creatures—those you'd barely notice any other time—they emerge now, drawn out by the hush and bloom of spring, as if the earth itself is putting on a play, and not a single living thing wants to miss a moment."

He looked at you, completely stunned—not just by what you had said, but by you. There was something in the way your words fell from your lips, unfiltered and vivid, like soft rain over dry earth. You were a poetic soul in a world that often only celebrated silence. And it made his heart ache in the best possible way. Like hearing a song he didn't know he'd needed. Like remembering something he thought he'd forgotten.

He didn't speak—not at first. He just looked. Let the silence between you swell and breathe. He needed time to absorb it, to let your voice echo inside him where it mattered most. You weren't just speaking thoughts; you were offering pieces of yourself, and he received them with a reverence he didn't quite know how to articulate. Every word you'd said still hung in the air like pollen—delicate, golden, alive.

It wasn't simply attraction—no, this was something older, deeper, something that felt like it had been written into the marrow of his bones long before he ever knew your name. You didn't have to do anything. You just were—sitting there in that patch of spring sunlight like the season itself had bloomed just to wrap around you. You were effortless. Unaware of the spell you cast, how the mere tilt of your head or the way your lashes caught the light had him caught in a current he didn't want to escape.

There you were: back pressed gently against a weather-worn yule log, your hair dancing with the breeze like it was part of the wind's design, your eyes bright and open, reflecting the sky's soft blue and a curiosity he found endlessly magnetic. And you smiled—just a little. That hesitant, confused smile you wore when you didn't quite understand why he was staring at you like that, like you were the last beautiful thing in a world that had long gone dim. It was a fragile thing, that smile. Tentative and sincere. And to him, it was sacred.

But he wasn't just staring.

He was studying, memorizing, revering. Every detail of you was a verse in a poem only he could read. You weren't simply a person—you were a constellation, a collection of light and wonder and soft chaos that made his heart quiet and wild at the same time. Your presence overwhelmed him in the gentlest way. He had never believed in soulmates, never believed in fate. But sitting there, watching you exist so unselfconsciously in the middle of blooming earth and golden air, he was almost convinced that maybe, just maybe, the universe had placed you here on purpose.

You spoke to him then, your voice light but alive, and it wrapped around him like a melody made only for his ears. The way your thoughts unfolded, vivid and full of color—your passion for the smallest details, the way your eyes lit up when you described things you loved—he drank it all in like a man starved. Your words weren't just sounds to him; they were sunlight and soil, things that rooted into him and bloomed. He was enchanted by how you moved through the world, how you gave meaning to things that others might overlook. You didn't just see beauty—you named it, shaped it, gave it life. You turned a simple breeze into a love song.

He longed to touch you. To feel the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips. To press his lips to yours, not out of some shallow desire, but out of reverence. He didn't want to kiss you just to have you. He wanted to kiss you as a way of saying thank you for existing. He wanted to pour all his silent awe into that single moment, to let you feel in one soft collision everything he couldn't yet say aloud. But he didn't. He couldn't. Because to kiss you meant closing his eyes, even for just a breath—and he wasn't ready to lose sight of you. Not yet. Not when your face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

So he just watched.

He watched the sunlight draw delicate patterns across your cheeks. He watched the shadows shift beneath your lashes when you blinked. He watched the way your expression changed with your thoughts, subtle but alive, like weather over a quiet field. And with every passing second, he carved you deeper into his memory, desperate to hold onto the way you looked right now. If his eyes burned from not blinking, he would have welcomed the sting. If night fell and stole the light from your features, he would have begged the stars to shine brighter just so he wouldn't lose you to the dark.

In you, he saw something beyond beauty.

He swore he would remember the exact way you looked in that moment until the end of his days. Because to him, you weren't just a girl on a hillside. You were everything. You were the pause between heartbeats. The hush before the dawn. The whisper of something holy.

In you, he saw poetry.

“You see the world so differently,” Theo said at last, his voice barely above a whisper, as if anything louder might shatter the sacred stillness between you. There was awe in his tone—not just admiration, but a kind of reverence, like he was saying a prayer. “You don’t just notice it… you feel it. You let it move through you. It’s like you carry the world inside you, and everything you see, you let it stay.”

Your smile wavered, and something in your eyes flickered—not surprise exactly, but something softer. Recognition. As though he’d just pulled a thread loose inside you that no one had ever dared to touch before.

“No one’s ever said that to me,” you murmured, your voice quieter now, laced with something unspoken. “Not like that. Not like it’s something good.”

You tried to laugh it off, but the sound came out small, wistful. “I get that a lot,” you added, eyes locked onto his with a gaze so steady, so unflinching, it made Theo feel like his heart had stumbled into a sprint. “But not as a compliment.”

There was a pause—a heartbeat stretched between two souls—and then you smiled again. This time it was warmer, more open, tinged with gratitude. The kind of smile that made something ancient in him sigh.

“Thank you,” you said simply, and those two words carried more weight than most people’s whole conversations.

You turned your gaze toward the trees again, watching how the sunlight filtered through the canopy and painted soft gold across the grassy earth. Then your voice shifted—took on that thoughtful, drifting cadence Theo had come to recognize. The sound of you diving deep, without fear, into another ocean of thought.

“I just think… people get so tangled in the noise of their own lives. They obsess over things that don’t matter—deadlines, mirrors, numbers on screens—things that don’t feed the soul. They forget to just… be. To breathe. To look around and realize the world is alive. That we’re alive. They walk past trees without seeing them. They hear birds and think of alarms. They smell rain and only worry about their hair. It’s like they’ve been taught to ignore the symphony the earth plays for them every day.”

You paused, not for dramatic effect, but because you were genuinely overcome by the weight of what you were saying. Your fingers ran gently through the grass beside you, the gesture slow, reverent, like you were grounding yourself to the very soil.

“But nature…” you continued, your voice softer now, almost like you were confiding in the air itself, “Nature doesn’t ask anything of us except presence. And still, people treat it like background noise. But it’s everything. It’s truth, in its rawest form. It’s the wind reminding you that you’re small, but not insignificant. It’s the flowers blooming without applause, the way the earth forgives us each spring. It’s the silence between birdsong, the hush of the forest, the sound of your own heartbeat when you really, really listen.”

Theo was silent, completely still, utterly caught in the gravity of your words. You didn’t even notice the way he was looking at you—like you were both flame and shelter, like he could spend forever listening to you and still not have enough. The way you spoke stirred something in him he hadn’t known he’d been missing—an ache, a longing, a sense that maybe this was what connection was meant to feel like.

You stared back at him, puzzled by his stillness. Your brow furrowed gently, your nose crinkling ever so slightly as your mind spun in quiet worry. You'd seen this kind of silence before. It usually came right before someone pulled away.

"Am I annoying you with my rambling?" you asked, voice dipping into uncertainty. "I'm being weird again, aren't I?"

There it was—your vulnerability, soft and sharp all at once. You tried to smile through it, to laugh it off like you always did, but it didn't quite reach your eyes. You were too used to being misunderstood. Too familiar with the way people got overwhelmed by the way your thoughts spiraled into beauty. You'd spent years trying to tame that part of yourself, trying to fit inside quieter boxes, but the truth was: your mind was a garden that grew wild and lush and unapologetic. And somewhere deep down, you feared that would always be too much for people to handle.

Theo's gaze softened even more, as if your worry had reached out and touched something in him.

"You're not weird," he said gently, and his voice felt like a warm hand on your shoulder. Steady. Sincere. "You're just... different." The way he said it made you pause. There was no judgment in it. No edge. Just admiration—pure and quiet, like a secret he was honored to carry. You bit your lower lip, a nervous gesture, your cheeks blooming into a pale, rosy pink. The kind of blush that wasn't born of embarrassment, but of something softer—hope, maybe. Surprise. You tilted your head slightly, trying to read him more clearly, your voice careful but curious. "Should I take being 'different' as a compliment?" you asked, your tone playful, but your eyes searching his face for something real, something rooted. 

He didn't look away. Neither did you.

It was as if the two of you had unknowingly stepped into a quiet challenge—some unspoken game of stillness and gravity, where neither one wanted to be the first to look away. But it wasn't a contest. It was longing. It was connection. You were caught in his eyes—those deep, endless oceans of cobalt and storm—and you didn't want to be rescued. You wanted to fall further in. Drown in them, willingly.

And Theo... he felt the same. Your presence had a magnetic pull. It was like standing in sunlight after a long winter—comforting and blinding and overwhelming all at once. Every inch of you drew him closer. Not physically, not yet—but spiritually, energetically, irrevocably. You were the kind of different that made the world feel bigger, richer, more alive. And he didn't want to look away—not now, not ever. So you sat there, suspended in a silence that said more than words could. Something delicate and infinite passing between you. Something that tasted a little like fate.

The mountains held their breath around you. Even the wind seemed to hush, threading softly through the tall grass, brushing against your skin like an unseen hand offering comfort. The warmth of the afternoon sun spilled golden over the clearing, catching the edges of your hair and setting it aglow like a halo made of firelight and softness. You looked like something sacred, something the earth had cradled into being and placed carefully in front of him.

Theo couldn't speak—not yet. Not without unraveling. So he simply watched you, as if memorizing wasn't a choice, but an instinct. The kind of reverence usually reserved for art or prayer shone in his expression. And perhaps that's what you were to him—living poetry, the kind that bled truth with every breath. "yes," he replied, barely more than a breath. "Being different... that's the most beautiful thing about you." The words hung there, suspended in the golden stillness. You didn't move. You weren't sure you could.

It had always been a sore thing inside you—how easily people turned away from the parts of you that felt too much. You'd always been aware of how you overflowed: in thought, in feeling, in wonder. You tried for years to fold yourself smaller, quieter, into the shapes other people expected. But even then, your heart had a way of spilling out, uninvited. You loved too deeply, thought too loudly, cared too visibly. You noticed things—how the petals on early spring flowers trembled in the wind, how people's voices changed when they were holding back tears, how the world seemed to pulse with quiet meanings no one stopped long enough to hear.

And for most of your life, that had been your loneliness.

Until now.

Until Theo.

"You don't hide from things," he said, his voice low, trembling with something he didn't dare name yet. "You don't numb yourself the way most people do. You let the world move you. It terrifies me how rare that is."

His hand, still half-buried in the grass, found yours. This time, not by accident. His fingers brushed the back of your hand like a question. You didn't pull away. You turned your palm to meet his, and the moment your skin touched, the world shifted—softly, imperceptibly, but deeply. Like something had clicked into place, and the universe exhaled around it.

"I always feel like I'm too much," you whispered, your voice cracking around the edges. It wasn't a confession meant for pity—it was a truth, worn and tender, carried inside you for years. "Too intense. Too curious. Too sensitive. Too... loud, I guess. People don't usually stay."

Theo's fingers closed around yours with gentle certainty, as if your pain was something he could hold and soothe just by being steady. "Then they were never meant to," he murmured, and his tone held no bitterness, only truth. "Because anyone who asks you to be less than this... doesn't deserve to be near you."

Something in your chest gave way. You didn't cry—but it felt like you might, if you let yourself breathe too deeply. There was a pressure behind your ribs, not from sadness, but from recognition. From being seen, finally, not just for your beauty or your kindness or the words you put together like constellations—but for everything. The wild, radiant chaos of your inner world. The boundless storm of your empathy. The way you never stopped feeling.

"I just want to be understood," you said, and your voice cracked on the last word. "Not explained away. Not tolerated. Just... understood."

"I do," he said, instantly, and there wasn't even a pause. "I do understand."

He said it like a promise. Like a vow carved into the air between you.

Your eyes met his again, and there was no more hiding in them—no fear, no overthinking, no pretending. Just two souls, open and trembling and unafraid to fall. You stared into the storm-blue of his gaze and felt yourself being pulled deeper, caught in the gravity of someone who chose you exactly as you were.

The light changed around you, slow and golden, the kind of fading light that casts long, soft shadows and turns everything it touches into something mythic. The air carried the scent of early blossoms and damp earth and sun-warmed wood. Somewhere nearby, a bird trilled a low, steady song, and in the far distance, the hum of a stream curled through the silence like a secret.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the past. Not your fears. Not even the future.

Only this.

Only him.

Only you—exactly as you were, more than enough, with your messy thoughts and uncontainable wonder, your heart that never learned how to beat quietly.

Theo leaned in slightly, not to kiss you yet, but just to be closer. Just to feel the space between you get smaller. His forehead nearly touched yours, and you felt the warmth of his breath mingle with your own.

"I don't want you to quiet down," he said, barely a whisper. "I want to hear everything."

And for the first time, you believed someone meant it.

𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

I’d love to hear your feedback on this one!

!Reblogs and Likes are highly appreciated¡

Theodore Nott Masterlist

…until next time lovelies💋

[crescenthistory]

Okay, Fine, Maybe We're In Love!

Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader

Summary: Part 3 to Totally Just the Fifth and Sixth Wheel and Still Just Totally the Fifth and Sixth Wheel, You Guys. Regulus' resolve is crumbling, you are starting to realise the others might have a point, and there is a Quidditch game against Ravenclaw today.

Words: 6.7k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, use of y/n, pining as per usual, bickering/banter/teasing, minor injury, minor fight, public displays of affection, best friends to lovers, mental spiraling over feelings, possible inaccurate depiction of quidditch, background dorlene and rosekiller

Note: this is so much later than i promised, BUT it's also longer so... fair deal? it's been so sweet how many of you requested this one, hope it lives up to your expectations<3 final part

Regulus rarely had dreams that were not nightmares, but when he did, they were of you.

Something he never gave much thought to, it was a given for him – he spent most of his waking time with you, it only makes sense that you sneak into his dreams. If you were bathed in a soft, ethereal glow in each one, Regulus did not let himself notice.

As he turned in his emerald sheets, face twisting into the pillow, consciousness started its pull on him while his mind still remained in his dream, you were all he saw.

The dream had started simply. It was you and him, sitting on one of the low stone walls on the castle grounds, somewhere half-hidden by ivy, a soft breeze rustling through the trees. Away from pestering friends and professors, just the two of you, finally allowing peace to settle in his heart. Your knee was brushing his from where you sat close by him, and your scent was filling his nose, in an overwhelming way he did not quite think possible. You were talking to him, but Regulus had no idea what you were saying, only that you were laughing and your hand was on his shoulder as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

He was saying something to you, and you smiled at him, all brightness and warmth, the one he knew you reserved for people you actually trusted. It glowed in a hazy way he knew to be the product of the dream he was becoming increasingly aware was a dream, but he let himself bask in it. The way you looked at him – really looked at him, eyes dark and deep and full of something he didn’t know if he was allowed to name – made his chest tighten. He felt your fingers curl slightly into his arm, pulling him closer, and he knew he could lean in and–

In the surreal way dreams sometimes shift, he was in the middle of kissing you. Hands already cupping your face, holding onto you like a lifeline. Your lips were soft and he was floating with a strange weightlessness as he fell deeper and deeper into you, like you were the only real thing in the world and a world in and of yourself all at the same time. You responded to him with gentle sighs against his lips that filled his mind and turned it into a whirlwind. Your hands were scorching hot against him as you pulled him closer, a heat that should hurt but instead was something he savoured. It was warm and sweet and completely, blissfully easy, like something he had done a thousand times.

It was a moment that felt like it should stretch on forever, never-ending, but with a thud on the horizon of his consciousness, your face was replaced with his pillow and your arms with his duvet.

Sigh.

For a few brief, hazy moments, he half-expected to open his eyes and see you there beside him, maybe giving him that slightly incredulous look you got whenever you thought he had done something too sentimental. Like a deer caught in headlights. Instead, all he saw was the dim light of his dorm room, and he realised with building force that it had been a dream. Better yet, that he was dreaming about kissing you. His lips tingled with the ghost of that kiss, as if you had actually been there, as if he could just close his eyes and fall back into it. Into you.

Regulus swallowed, his chest tightening as the dream slipped further from his reach, leaving only the hollow ache of waking up. Kissing you was the last thing he should be thinking about – you were his best friend, dammit, someone who kept insisting that friends were all you were. It was clear cut. Yet, that was all he had been thinking, and now dreaming, about ever since Hogsmeade. If he was being honest with himself, he had for years, he just had not allowed himself to acknowledge it. Minds are fickle things, what they conjure up after dark holds no merit. Yet his heart was the one getting increasingly involved, and that was harder to ignore.

Propping himself up on his elbow he looked towards his canopy as if it held an answer to his predicament. When all he was met with was silence, he shook his head as if it would knock out his thoughts, curls messily spilling into his vision.

It's nothing. It's stupid. Ignore it.

No matter how many times he told himself it was just a stupid dream, he couldn’t stop thinking about the way your hand had rested on his shoulder, the softness of your lips, the warmth of your smile. The dream lingered just out of reach, but when he imagined himself grabbing at it, all he saw was you.

Bollocks.

"Oi, Reg!"

Regulus looked up to where Barty was sitting on his own bed, already tying his shoelaces and grinning at him through the green strands of hair falling into his eyes. "What's got you in a tizzy, mate? You look like someone hexed your pillow."

"It's not like you to be the last to wake up," Evan grumbled from behind him, working on buttoning his pants.

"And what a joy it is to wake up to the two of you," Regulus commented dryly before he wiped his hands harshly over his face, slinging his legs out to hit the ground.

"I'm glad you acknowledge it," Barty grinned. "Now, what'cha dream about?" There was a knowing gleam in his eyes that made Regulus roll his own.

"The match. Which I should be getting ready for."

It was gameday, Ravenclaw against Slytherin. A match that usually was considered in the bag, but the Ravenclaw team had truly been challenging everyone this year. Their beaters had grown aggressive and the other seeker was fast. It had been on his mind for the week leading up to it, so really, Regulus told himself, he wasn't really lying.

Nothing gets past Junior though.

"Cute deflection. Did you practise it in the mirror?" Barty asked smugly, continuing without waiting for a response. "We're more or less ready, we're just waiting for your dreamy arse."

"Glad to know you think my arse is dreamy," Regulus replied at the same time as Evan slapped Barty in the back of the head with his quidditch gloves.

"Ugh, you know what I mean!" Barty flopped back onto his bed, just as patient as always. "Hurry up now!"

Regulus had his strict morning routines to fall into, which he always thanked himself for when he woke up frazzled like this. He knew what steps to do when and how to speed up the process, allowing him to grasp onto a sense of control that always calmed his nerves.

Yet, you were still ravaging his mind.

What you were doing, who you were with. If you remembered to set aside time to meet up with him before the game, even though the two of you always did and you had never once forgotten. If he could get there – the stone wall outside the locker rooms – a bit earlier than you today to properly gather himself before he sees you.

If he would have the guts to kiss you.

That last thought he shook out of his head, trying to imagine it falling out of his ears and disappearing like a Healer once told him to when he divulged his struggles with intrusive thoughts. It usually helped, but did little for him today as the idea of kissing you kept falling back into the forefront of his mind. I can't, I can't, I can't.

I want to.

"You have that look on your face again." Barty once more cut into Regulus' mind's inner workings, gazing at him with interest from where his head was hanging upside down from the edge of his bed. Regulus was hurrying his way through his routine and barely spared him a glance, accustomed to his antics.

"What look?" He forced any hint of his emotional turmoil from his expression in preparation, as he began to pack his quidditch gear bag.

"I'm asking you," Barty drawled. "I already know, I'm just interested in if you know."

At the same time, Evan shot in from where he was waiting by the door. "You look like you're hoping someone is willing to go to Azkaban just to put you out of whatever misery you believe yourself to be in."

"Aren't you two cheery today?"

"Following your beautiful example, my boy." Barty grinned, moving to grab his bag as he could tell Regulus was almost ready. "Still can't believe we got up before you. I'm disappointed in you, for shame."

"Yeah, yeah," Regulus muttered. "You didn't have to get up yet, though, I always head off to the pitch before you."

Evan gave him a knowing look as the three of them moved towards the common room. "No, you always head off to meet with your good luck charm before the games."

"Tell our lovely Y/N that we say hi, by the way." Barty shot him another wide grin as he plopped down in an armchair by the exit. "We'll be focusing on the actual game plan."

Regulus chose to ignore the first part. "Your only game plan today is to keep those bloody Ravenclaw beaters off their brooms."

The groan that escaped Barty was entirely too loud and dramatic. "Salazar, they are annoying me."

"Then do something about it." Regulus gave him a pat on the shoulder as he began to move away, nodding to Evan who was sat too far away. "I'm off."

"Have fun with your girl!" Barty called as he exited, and he could barely hear him giggle to Evan about it before the door shut behind him.

Lovely silence. Regulus stood still and breathed it in for a second, but with Barty's voice out of his ears, it only gave ample space for yours to fill his head instead.

The walk to your usual meeting place felt like a practised choreography, his heart beating harder on the way up. Though you often laughed about how meeting outside is inconvenient, given the tendency for bad weather in Scotland, he was grateful for it today as he hoped the fresh air would clear his mind of you. Or at the very least, of kissing you.

It seemed that as much as you were an angel in his dreams, you were a bit devilish in reality, because when he turned the corner to your spot you were already there, leaning against the wall with that easy confidence you seemed to wear only in his presence, reading a book to pass the time.

"There's our seeker!" You greeted him with a hug and he fought back any panic in his face over your shoulder as he breathed you in, hands splayed delicately over your back.

"Good morning, love," he all but whispered back.

You pulled away from him all too quickly, leaning back against the wall with a mischievous smile that always seemed to undo him a little. "Ready to kick some Ravenclaw ass?"

Despite his hummingbird heart, the ease of being around you settled into his body at the sight of your smile, and it took him no effort to mirror it. "As ready as one can be."

"I mean, all you have to do is find a teeny-tiny golden sphere flying through the sky at high speeds. Easy, yeah?"

He loved when you were in your more sassy moods. He loved how you looked at him when you were. He loved–

"Super easy," he laughed. "That's why I always catch it."

You scoffed in place of saying well, duh and looked at him with mirth in your eyes. "Always?"

"Are you doubting me, amour?" If he didn't know better, Regulus would say your breath hitched at the nickname. Why would it, though, he calls you that all the time?

"Do I have any reason to?" you shot back, leaning a bit into him as if he would let you in on a secret.

"No, not when I have a pretty girl like you cheering me on in the stands." He said it breezily, feigning nonchalance, but studied your reaction intently. He revelled when he saw the faint pinch of your cheeks at that, indicating a blush, glad that he has some effect on you, too.

"Are you calling me your good luck charm, Black?" Regulus couldn't bite back the laugh at that.

"You know, Evan called you that earlier today as well."

You cocked a brow at him. "Really? Pray tell why?"

This time it was Regulus' turn to blush a little, and though he hoped you wouldn't notice, he also knew deep in his bones that you would. "Just him and Barty messing around as usual. They say hi by the way."

"I'll see them on the pitch in less than an hour," you laughed at your friends' antics. Any leftover tension in his shoulders eased out at the sound.

"You know how they are." Regulus' smile softened as he turned his body towards yours were it was leaned against the raw stone.

"Some causes are lost, indeed," you chortled. "Much like this game, of course, which Ravenclaw lost ages ago."

"That's the spirit of a true luck charm. Keep that up in the stands, yeah?"

"Of course. What can I say, I take my job very seriously."

When Regulus looked at you through his laughter, he knew you must be able to see every emotion flashing across his face. He could never hide, not from you. He let his eyes travel across your face, taking in every beautiful divot and crevice, fighting the urge to reach out and caress them with his fingers. What he could not fight, though, was his eyes flickering to your lips, memories of how they felt against his in his dream rushing through him once more. It would be so easy to reach forward and slot them with his, you were already standing closer than most people would. Even best friends like the two of you, and Gods, when Regulus thought that, he knew in his heart he did not just want to be best friends with you.

He almost did it, he swears he almost closed that gap – but then he looked up and met your eyes once more, saw the understanding, the confusion and the hesitation there, and he was knocked off course.

With a rough clearing of his throat, he broke the spell that had captured the two of you, even if just for a moment. "I should probably head off to meet with the team soon," he said, embarrassed at how raw his voice sounded.

You shook your head a little, clearing your own mind, and Regulus imagined thoughts falling from your ears. He desperately wanted to know what they were.

"No rest for the wicked?" you said with a smile, and he was almost jealous at how at ease you seemed.

"Not with the way Ravenclaw's been playing, no."

"You'll do great, Reg. As always." The softness of your voice did not go by him and his smile grew more genuine and assured.

"Thanks, amour. I'll look for you in the stands."

"And you'll find me there, probably surrounded by pestering friends and freezing my arse off." You all but giggled, and an idea formed in his head at impressive speed.

"Well, I can't have that," he laughed. Before he could think better of it, he opened his quidditch bag and pulled out his quidditch jersey. "Here, take this. It'll keep you warm for me."

His heart was hammering in his chest, but he managed to keep his hand steady as it held the Slytherin jersey between you. It was far from the first time you wore his clothes – though usually it would be classified more as stealing than just wearing – but he was aware that this type of hand-off held a different charge. The tradition of wearing your partner's jersey during their games was tried and true at Hogwarts. He could tell by the way your eyes flitted almost nervously from his jersey to his face, searching for an answer, that you felt the same way. By some miracle of courage, his resolve didn't falter.

At last, you put him out of his misery as you chuckled a little, taking the jumper from his hands, feeling the soft wool against your skin. "There'll be no confusing who I'm cheering on now," you said cheekily, turning the jersey over to where his name and number were printed in bold.

"Don't think there ever was any, to be honest," Regulus shrugged at you. "But if so, we have to set the record straight. What if Ravenclaw tries to steal you?"

"Can you imagine how much flack I'll get from your brother and his friends for wearing this?" you laughed, contradicting your own joking concern by beginning to pull it on over your own clothes.

Regulus furrowed his brows, unable to defeat the pang of insecurity in his chest. "If you're worried, you don't have to–"

"No, I want to. You gave it to me, it's mine now," you reassured him, holding your arms up in faux defence against him. Regulus let out a relieved laugh.

"Gonna have to go get a new extra one after this, I see."

"Clever boy."

He began backing away from you ever so slowly, face still turned towards yours with a smile. "I'll see you up there then?"

"Warm and toasty," you agreed, smiling brightly at him. "Break a leg."

Regulus stopped in his tracks, tilting his head at you, confused. "Why would you want me to break a leg?"

You shook your head at him with a smile. "You're such a pureblood. It means good luck."

"Ah, in that case, I'll break all my bones."

"Not what I meant!" you call after him, and just before he walks out of sight, he gives you a quick wink.

You're grateful that he is not around to see the flush that takes over your cheeks.

You're left reeling for several moments more than you're proud of. What just happened?

With your head still spinning, you headed off to the stands, feeling the weight of Regulus’ jersey on your shoulders like a warm reminder of that moment. Your fingers tugged at the edges of the jersey, trying to steady yourself, but every time you remembered the look in Regulus' eyes, the corner of his lips curving up just slightly as he handed it to you, your stomach flipped over itself. You had not allowed yourself to believe your feelings for him ran so deep, not until this moment, anyway.

Maybe you always knew, though, if you were being honest. Maybe you had always ignored it, because the alternative was terrifying.

Arriving at the stands, you spotted your friends instantly. Marlene waved you over, grinning, while James and Sirius were huddled close on each side of Remus, gesticulating wildly to each other about something. The latter looked prepared to be accidentally hit in the face any minute now. Peter was probably putting money on the match, judging by the low tones and suspicious glances he kept sending around. Lily and Mary were sharing a large Gryffindor scarf, leaning into each other for warmth.

“Oh, look who’s gracing us with her presence!” James shouted, dramatically clapping a hand to his heart as you arrived, while Remus, Mary and Lily each greeted you more quietly with soft smiles.

“And with a certain someone’s name on her back!” Marlene pointed out with a smirk, eyeing Regulus' jersey with devilish amusement.

You rolled your eyes, but before you could explain, Sirius zeroed in on it, eyes lighting up with mischief. “Is that my darling baby brother’s jersey?”

"He wouldn't like you calling him that," you said simply, taking your seat on the bench in front of the three boys and Marlene, painfully aware that it put the back of your jersey in their direct line of sight. Beside you sat Mary and Lily, whose smiles were warm but no less teasing.

"I'm not under the impression he much likes anything these days," Sirius huffed petulantly.

"Except you." Remus mumbled it so quietly you almost missed it, but you didn't. Neither did James and Marlene, if their snickers were anything to go off of.

"So," Marlene drawled, poking you slightly in the back. You have spent a decent chunk of time with her as of late through Dorcas, which unfortunately meant she had joined in on the teasing. "Is Regulus aware of you representing him loud and proud, or is this a bout of kleptomania we should be worried about?"

"You should always be worried, McKinnon. With shiny jewellery like yours, a confrontation with one of our household nifflers is bound to happen." You looked over your shoulder and smiled at her to show you mean no harm.

"You have household nifflers?" Mary asked curiously.

"Barty," chorused you, Marlene, Remus and Sirius with decreasing humour and increasing worry in that order. “And Pandora,” you added.

"And if you must know," you sighed while biting back a smile. "Regulus willingly gave me his jersey when I complained of the cold in the stands. You know these things are better adjusted to the climate." You waved the sleeve of the jersey slightly to demonstrate your point.

"Ah, what a true gentleman." Sirius' grin was bordering on wolfish. "I raised him right, I see."

Remus elbowed him, causing Sirius to dramatically fake a fall into Marlene. "You cannot teach what you don't know, dear Pads."

You smiled at how much more seamless your integration into the friend group felt, a true display of the work the Black brothers had put in. Though, you knew it would feel better if the younger of the two was here too.

At the thought, you turned your gaze towards the field, spying for a glimpse of your friends.

"Any thoughts on the game?" you asked absentmindedly to steer the conversation away.

"My only thought is that if those Ravenclaw beaters send even one bludger at Cas I will obliterate them next game." Marlene's words were laced with a malice you knew she was not scared to act on.

"Sentiment's shared," you all but whispered.

Sirius leaned forward – across poor Remus, mind you – to jostle your shoulders slightly. "Don't worry, bub, Reggie's the furthest away from action one can be."

"I'm not worried," you said simply, no reaction at practically being manhandled.

"I am!" Mary said then. "Quidditch's violent enough as is, we don't need Marlene and Sirius to have a vendetta for their next game."

"I've always found they play their best when they have a vendetta," James said through a sheepish smile. "Maybe some revenge-worthy offences would be helpful."

"Oi! You wishin' assault on my darling baby brother?"

With that, some more tussling occurred behind you, but you didn't deign to look around, just sighing through a smile. "Let me know if you need to escape to the front bench, Lupin," you threw over your shoulder.

"Don't mind if I do." His voice was already much closer to you as you saw the lanky boy scrambling into your right field of vision.

You turned to look at him half-incredulously, laughing when he wore what must be a mirrored expression. When he chuckled along with you, the lines around his eyes crinkled.

"Look at the in-laws cahooting together," Marlene cooed from beside Sirius and James, unaffected by their scuffle.

Remus' hand stretched over your shoulder towards Marlene in some gesture you couldn't see. Her gasp clued you in on what it was, though.

At last, you saw the small green figures walk out on the pitch, brooms in hand. You could barely make out Barty trying to climb onto Evan's shoulders, while Regulus and Dorcas were chatting, faces turned towards the stands.

You couldn't help the skip of your heart or the immediate grin that took over your face as you waved – as casually as possible, due to current company – to them both. Perhaps mostly the former, though.

Even from a distance, you could see how Regulus lit up, waving back at you in a more dramatic gesture than you would expect from him. At the same time, Marlene stood up behind you and wolf-whistled at Dorcas, waving at her with even more theatrics. The poor girl on the pitch turned her face away, whether to laugh or cringe you were unsure, before she gave a small wave back.

"You're really going for it, Marls," James commented happily.

"With more success than you've ever had, Jamie."

Suddenly Marlene was included in the squabble behind you.

On the pitch, the teams lined up in front of each other and mounted their brooms before flying into formation. Ravenclaw blue and Slytherin green decorated the otherwise grey skies adorning Hogwarts' landscapes today.

"Welcome to this most anticipated match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin!" Pandora's voice floated through the stadium, somehow still as elegant while booming. "A match where I must admit I am conflicted, my house versus my twin, but alas today is not about me."

Her light oddities brought a sense of familiar calmness through you as Pandora began to outline the scores so far in the season and what this match would mean. You wonder if that was why she was chosen as commentator.

When she introduced Slytherin's team, you beamed with pride, paying closer attention. "And of course we have the stoic Regulus Black, who is looking rather dashing in his green jersey, which the lovely Y/N has dutifully matched today it seems."

Just like that, calmness was replaced by a painful flush shooting across your face, both at the incredibly public comment and the immediate hoots and hollers and yeahs that exploded from behind you.

The unsuppressed giggle from Pandora revealed her intentions. Clearly, she's spent too much time with Barty, you decided.

"He is rather dashing, isn't he, Y/N?" James asked from behind you.

"If you spent more of your time complimenting Evans, maybe she'd actually go out with you," you said drily. To emphasise your point and feeling perhaps emboldened by the Gryffindor bravado that engulfed you, you looked at both Mary and Lily. "You two look beautiful today, by the way."

The girls smirked at you and you could hear James guffawing behind you.

Remus bumped his knee against yours with a sly smile. "I must say, you're fitting right in with your in-laws."

"Don't start," was all you offered, but your smile held more warmth after that. Remus held up his hands in a display of innocence, but his laugh betrayed any pretence.

The sound of the whistle alerted you all to the game being in motion.

Players zoomed across the field at speeds that would tighten any friend's heart, gracing you with some silence from those around you as everyone zeroed in on the game. Regulus flew around the pitch, keeping out of the way, but close enough to pay attention. You could tell how alert he was even from a distance, ready to twist after the snitch at any given moment, even before it came into play.

Pandora continued her commentary with her typical flights of fancy, describing the players’ movements like they were graceful choreographies and making odd analogies that half the stadium likely didn’t follow. “Ah, and Ravenclaw’s beater winds up to swing like a very determined house elf polishing silver. Look at that tenacity!”

Regulus looked so in his element out there, still his assertive, poised self, but with a decisive ruggedness about him. It almost made you want to play alongside him, to witness this version of him as well.

With the years you had found you wanted to see every version of Regulus.

Even with your distractedness by overwhelming emotion that just wouldn't stay away like you instructed it to, you saw the moment Regulus caught sight of the snitch. His body gave little reaction as to not give away that he had seen it, but the increased speed and determinism of his broom could not be mistaken.

You found yourself sitting on the edge of your seat, watching his every move. You could hear the exact moment James, Marlene and Sirius – in that order – recognised it as well.

"Come on, Reggie," Sirius whispered. You weren't sure if he knew he had said it.

With your eyes fixated on Regulus, you barely registered when the Ravenclaw team realised the snitch had been spotted. Their seeker hauled around, following Regulus, but she was too slow. Excitement built in your chest, victory within Regulus' reach. The small golden sphere was close to his broom now, enough that Regulus made to grasp at it, when another ball came into view, bigger and darker.

The bludger collided into Regulus' elbow. A second one immediately went for his head, which he was barely able to dodge, but it still made connection with his upper chest.

You jumped up from where you stood, a yell of fear and protest already making its way out of your lungs before you could think. A collective gasp went through the crowd before the stands erupted in boos at the clear foul.

In the skies, Regulus barely kept his balance on his broom before Dorcas was at his side, stabilising him. You could see him flinch when she accidentally grabbed at his hurt elbow. The whistle went off before any further developments in the game could occur. For a moment you thought it was due to Regulus' injury, before you caught sight of Barty and Evan engaged in mid-air fist-fights with the Ravenclaw beaters.

Good.

As Dorcas steered Regulus downwards to the Healer's station on the side of the pitch, underneath a makeshift rooftop, there were few thoughts that went through your head other than Regulus' name.

Regulus, Regulus, Regulus.

Which is the only explanation you had for why you ran out of the stands with no hesitation nor explanation.

You could barely hear Sirius and the others call after you, but you were already taking the stairs three at a time, making your way down to the pitch – making your way to the Healer's station. Your brain didn't turn on again before you saw Regulus, already sitting down beside the 7th year interns of Madam Pomfrey who were wrapping up his elbow.

His face was wrung up in a pained grimace, which he quickly tried to school away once he saw you, eyes widening. He waved the healers off with his good arm and stood up a bit wobbly as you ran up to him.

"Regulus," you breathed out as you stopped before him.

"Amour, I–" he started, but you cut him off as you grabbed at his chin to move his face around and look for pain or injury. You tugged his jersey down slightly to take a look at the purple bruising spreading beneath his collarbone.

"Those absolute fucking bastards," you murmured, fingers tracing lightly over the colouring that kept all of your attention.

Regulus brought his good hand up to your own chin, tilting it so that your eyes were on his once more, small smile hidden within his irises. "I'm alright," he whispered.

"No, you're beaten literally black and blue," you huffed.

"I'll be alright, though." His face aimed at being reassuring, but it was difficult through the pain. "I've been given pain potion, healing cream and they episkey’d my–"

"Those tossers broke your bones?!" you cut him off incredulously at the mention of the healing spell.

"You did tell me to break them before, did you not?" Regulus said teasingly. You realised his hand migrated from your chin to the side of your jaw when he brushed his thumb calmingly over it once.

You narrowed your gaze at him. "Not. What. I. Meant." You punctuated each word with a poke to the non-bruised side of his chest.

"I'm alright," he repeated softly. You still wanted him to say it one more time.

"Black!" The referee called and you both turned around, like a deer caught in headlights. "Will you be good to return to the game or do you need a reserve to take over?" Behind him, the Ravenclaw beaters and Barty and Evan had finally been separated and quickly patched up. You hope episkey was needed for those two as well.

"I'm good!" he called at the same time as you said "Reserve!" You whipped your face around to look at him incredulously.

"Regulus. You are injured."

"I'm patched up and there's just a few minutes left anyway. I'd go crazy if I didn't finish this game, amour." Regulus was so attentive when he reassured you, returning his hand to your face, massaging at the back of your neck.

"And what do you think would happen to me if you went back out? I'll go crazy." You felt almost childish as you said it, like a 5 year old stomping your foot, but you felt justified in it nonetheless.

"It'll be alright. I'll catch the snitch and come right back to you, yeah?"

He was already starting to pull away from you as he said it, to return to the pitch. It was only then you realised you had stood nearly flush against each other. Your hand shot out to grasp at the side of his jersey.

"Y/N–" Regulus started.

You cut him off with a kiss.

It was soft despite the tension in your body and your knuckles whitening from the strength of your grip on him. His lips were cold from flying, but responded to yours in an instant. It was brief in its sweetness, but sweet all the same.

You pulled away and took a step back immediately, hands dropping at each of your sides. Regulus stared at you dumbly.

"Was that– was that to keep me off the broom?" he asked carefully. You almost wanted to say yes from the possible willingness in his voice.

You just smiled at him. "It was for good luck. Since you clearly can't be trusted with my muggle idioms."

A slow grin spread across his face at the same time as the referee called his name more harshly. "Okay," he whispered, seemingly awestruck as he backed away from you for the second time that day. "Okay, I'll be back in a moment, promise," he said more loudly.

Behind him Dorcas was grinning at you over her shoulder as she walked away from the edge of the tent. You felt bad you hadn’t realised she was near, but it didn’t seem like it bothered her at the time, smug happiness evident in her features.

How Regulus was able to play with a bruised collarbone and a just-repaired elbow you had no idea. Yet you knew he had done worse, so it shouldn't surprise you even as it horrified you to no end. You remained in the Healer's tent, shielded from view in the stands, and chewing on the side of your thumb as you watched Regulus' every move in the sky. The beaters were still on him, but so were Barty and Evan, more incessant than ever. You all but flinched when Regulus reached out once more with his injured arm, and the sigh that took over your body when his gloved fingers closed around the snitch was nothing but pure relief.

The stadium burst into loud cheers and you could vaguely make out Pandora's melodic voice over the roar, but it all fell on deaf ears. Your eyes were locked with Regulus' from the moment the players neared the ground.

While worry still clenched in your heart, now that Regulus was officially safe, the shock of what you did was able to wash over you.

You kissed Regulus. He kissed you back. He smiled. He seemed okay with it. What the fuck? Your mind was going a mile a minute as you kept looking at him, recognising to the fullest extent how his tousled hair makes your heart spin, how you longed for his presence in your arms in every form of the word. It was both disorientating and oddly familiar to you. Natural. Right.

You swallowed it up as the players landed.

When their boots hit the pitch, Evan and Dorcas physically collided into a hug in a way that must have hurt, practically screaming in victory as they shook each other.

Likewise, Barty was on Regulus, but it seemed for a different reason. Mindful of his injuries, Barty lifted Regulus up by the waist, spinning him around twice while yelling something along the lines of "Took you bloody long enough!" before all but launching him towards the Healer's tent – towards you.

"Fucking finally!" Barty once more screeched cheerily behind him as Regulus used the momentum from Barty's manhandling to jog towards you. "Finally!" Then he turned around and joined Evan and Dorcas' howling.

Regulus smiled as he came up towards you and when you opened your arms for a hug, his hands went up to cup your face and he went straight for the kiss.

You melted against his body, holding one arm around his waist and another at the nape of his neck. This kiss was longer, deeper, in a way that made your stomach flip and toes curl. It felt real. It felt like it meant something.

"Sorry, I wanted to be the first to do it," Regulus mumbled against your lips. He pulled away slightly, body still flush against yours as he studied your face curiously. "I– You want this? You want me?"

"I've always wanted you, Reg," you whispered.

His eyes flitted between yours, your eyebrows, your lips, even your nose and the way it crinkled slightly. "Like this?" His voice was raw and honest, laying everything bare.

"Yeah," you laughed almost tearily. "Like this."

He smiled as he brought you in for another kiss before scattering them rapidly around your lips, your cheeks, your nose, crinkling it once more. You laughed against him and it felt perfectly right.

Regulus flinched a little when he tried to tighten his hold on you and his elbow collided with yours. You immediately sobered up.

"We're going to Pomfrey's," you declared, stroking a hand up and down his back consolingly. "Now."

"I just have to finish up with the team first–" He tried, but you cut him off.

"You won the game for the team, I think you've done enough." You smiled knowingly, but the sternness did not leave you. "We are going to get you properly patched up and receive in-depth instructions on how to deal with the injuries."

Regulus nodded, reluctance fading away. "Okay. I just have to let Sirius know I'm okay first."

You sighed, indulgence flickering through your eyes. "You're impossible."

"Got it from him."

"We'll check in with Sirius and then head off to the infirmary." You were mapping out the plan in your head and Regulus stared at you fondly. You cheekily added, "I can't very well kiss this better."

Regulus’s eyes softened, a warm glow flooding his gaze. His voice was quiet, tone raw. “Could you please try anyway?”

You shook your head fondly at him. Slowly, you brought him down for a lingering kiss, breathing him in.

Regulus was smiling against your lips when a wolf-whistle pierced your silence.

"Is the gig finally up then?" Sirius called. 

You both turned your heads, still all up in each other's space to see Sirius strolling up to you, friends in tow. Marlene was guilty of the whistling and bore matching grins with Sirius, James and Remus.

Regulus looked down at you, almost as if to check if you're okay with it. Upon your indulgent smile, he turned back towards his brother and said, "Okay, fine, maybe we're in love!"

[shycloudkitty]

Just one more minute...

Summary: Your husband has to leave for yet another mission but he's not quite ready to let you go yet… So he just savors…each… moment… 

Pairing: Death Island! Leon × Fem reader

Tags: a bit angsty but lots of comfort, Leon sleeping peacefully for once in his life, fluff, established relationship. Just overall a short comfy read <3

WC: 1.3K

Masterlist | Ao3 account

Small droplets of rain splatter on the windows of your bedroom. The soft sound created a soothing lullaby for the ears for those who were sleeping to it. The cloudy weather and the chill air contributed in making it the most serene environment while you stay snuggled up peacefully in your husband's arms with a warm blanket over you. 

His arms stayed around your waist holding you gently in a warm embrace, face nuzzling your hair, gentle breathing warming your neck. This was always his favorite position to fall asleep to. Your smell, your soft touch, your weight beneath him, telling him that you were really here… You were real. 

Your arms were wrapped around his bare torso and face buried in his chest. Feeling his body warmth seep into your skin. Limbs trained to take life, now just protecting you from the chill air and comforting you in your sleep. 

It was such a simple moment, just a couple sleeping and relaxing in each other's comfort. But at the same time it was so rare between you two. Just having these simple moments with him felt like a blessing. It was heaven.

And why wasn't it normal for both of you? Right. He had a job of saving the world, do or die, special agent... You get the idea. Except his job wasn't exactly a James Bond one. That only happened in movies. No, this was more grim than what they show in the movies. But what can you do when these are the cards life dealt you with? 

But he always felt inspired by you, how you handled every situation thrown at you with grace. Obviously, he wasn't a fool, he could see it was tough but still tried your best. Even in this relationship, you handle everything with so much love and care…he never had someone who sticked with him more than a few months let alone actually get married to. 

He didn’t hold anything against his exes, like his life was basically swamped with work so he understood why they left. What was actually confusing? You staying in his life, despite everything. You stayed even when he missed some of the important moments of your life. Sadly, that was the reality of his job. You win some, you lose some.

He was obviously happy that you stayed with him despite everything but he never quite understood why? He couldn't help but ask you this question. He remembers seeing your cheeks get red, avoiding his gaze and softly saying ‘I love you’. He also recalls saying ‘thank you’ in response because of how flustered he got from the confession. 

That memory always makes him facepalm himself.

After the day of your confession it was like his world flipped. And even though he didn't understand it fully at the time he wanted to do everything in his power to keep you in his life, even if it meant catering to your every whim. He listened to everything you said, trying to remember the best he could. 

He actually has a secret folder on his phone containing everything about your likes and dislikes just in case he needs a refresher. 

He didn’t even realize when it happened but he fell in love with you and wanted to keep you in his life forever. Thankfully, you felt the same way when he got down on one knee and asked if you wanted to marry him. He almost lost the ring with how nervous he was, fidgeting with the ring box in his pocket every 5 minutes.

It's been a few years since he tied down the knot with you and it was the best decision of his life. Sure, being married presents its own set of problems, sometimes things get rocky between you two, but there was nothing you both couldn't solve. Sometimes the problems needed talking, other times he could tell without you saying a word. But each time he makes it known that he loves you. Always. 

The soft rain slowly stirs Leon awake, he glances at his surroundings and then looks down at your sleeping face with his bleary eyes. He yawns and rubs his eyes, the digital clock on his nightstand read 6:30am. 

It was still half an hour early before he had to go to work today for some missing person assignment Hunnigan gave out. He didn’t wanna go but apparently it was top priority and needs his immediate attention. He told you about it last night, you weren't exactly happy since it was last minute but at this point you had grown used to it.

He tilts his head and looks at your serene face, caressing your cheek and sighing. His lips press a soft kiss on your forehead and gently threads his fingers through your hair. His voice comes as a soft whisper. “I don't wanna go either… you know that, right?” You probably knew how he felt about going too. You could read him like a book at this point. 

His eyes flit through your soft features, taking note of your breathing, slow and deep, fully relaxed. He smiles to himself and whispers in the same soft voice. “God, you’re so beautiful. You always are.” he lovingly brushes some hair out of your face. “I'm really lucky I get to see you like this, feels like I'm in heaven even if I probably won't ever go there. You do so much for us, I wish I could just stop this moment for us and never let go.”

He sighs softly and slowly pulls you closer to the warmth of his chest, trying not to jostle you too much. He closes his eyes briefly, focusing on your warmth. And starts mumbling to himself. “Honestly, if I was a poet I would have written dozens of poems about you. They probably would have been corny but you would have liked it.”

He gently starts brushing your hair again and continues. “But since I'm not… I don't have enough words to fully express how much you mean to me. The fact that we’re still together, makes me the luckiest fool ever lived. My heart hurts sometimes because of how happy I get cause of you.”

He sighs and mumbles. “I'm not normal…never have been. But with you…I feel that I finally became the man that I was supposed to be. And that I finally have a place called home."

He scoffs to himself, shaking his head. He didn't know what had possessed to become so sentimental this early. “I'm really cheesy aren't I?”

He felt soft teardrops on his chest where your face was resting. You had woken up from his rambling. 

His heart clenches from realization. He gulps, feeling the sudden lump rise up in his throat. He hugs you tighter and rubs your bare back. “I will come back, I promise.” Softly pressing a kiss on your shoulder. 

He glances at the time again. It was nearly 6:55am. He had to start getting ready for work. 

He slowly tilts your face, wiping away the tears from your shining eyes. His expression softens, cupping your face in his hands and softly kisses you. He feels you kiss him back, your grip on his arm tight. 

After a few moments you both slowly pull back from the kiss, eyes closed, foreheads resting against one another, soft breathing filling the quiet room. He softly mumbles. “I have to get ready now sweetheart.”

He feels you shake your head in response. Your soft voice fills the room. “No…wait for few more minutes. Just stay.”

He gulps and nods. He wasn't strong enough to deny that request. He pulls you close, covering both of you in the blanket. “Of course, darling.” And press soft kisses on your shoulder. 

Enjoying these quiet moments of solace with you. Even if he couldn't make this moment last forever, he knew he would come back to relish it again... 

Usually I wouldn't say this but I would very much appreciate it if you left comments, obviously if you want to. It helps me improve and encourages me to write more. 😊❤

-Bella

[primofate]

Is it a crime to post unfinished drafts? It's been sitting for 2 years already. I'm letting this one go.

Genshin Series - The sides of him only you get to have and see Part 5: Angry/Frustrated [All male characters]

Other works in this series: (Part 1 - Soft and Gentle) (Part 2 - flustered) (Part 3 - clingy) (Part 4 - Worried)

Warnings: some fluff, some angst, depending on the prompt, lots of different scenarios, some protective, some a bit yandere, some aggressive... quite long cause i got carried away >_>

Personal favourites in this work: Ayato, Bennett

Aether

When his investigation about his sister’s whereabouts turns up into a dead end

“...What if I never find her?” His voice is just a whisper as the two of you sit side by side around the campfire. Paimon is already sleeping off to the side, exhausted by the day’s events. 

You can hear the desperation in his voice, and it cripples you as well, the hurt that comes with losing a loved one and being unable to find them. You let yourself fall sideways and lay your head on his shoulder, hoping to give him some comfort. “...We’ll keep looking, Teyvat’s a big place, you know,” you whisper and it seems that your answer only serves to frustrate him more.

“That’s exactly the problem... Sometimes I don’t know where to start and I don’t know where to look first... I just...” His fists clench for a moment but he relaxes with a small sigh minutes later, arm wounding around your back to pull you closer to his side. “Sorry... I don’t mean to complain so much,” 

You shake your head as you bask in his warmth. “You’re allowed to feel this way, Aether. I’m right here beside you, okay?”

His gaze softens, head leaning towards the crown of your head to place a kiss there. “Thank you, Y/N,” he wouldn’t know what to do if he lost you as well.

Albedo

When someone is too rough with you.

Could he request you not to work at the tavern? Possibly, yes. But Albedo was not the type to tie you down or tell you what to do. Plus, you were capable of taking care of yourself. 

Sometimes he would pick you up from your shift, however, today the Cat’s Tail was a little understaffed and you had to work a few more orders before you could go. 

“Hey!” You jump as one tavern-goer stands and smashes his glass of beer on the table with a loud THUD. “This isn’t what I ordered!” Frankly you were used to this by now, but it didn’t mean that you were any less startled. You calmly walked over to the table and took back the mugs that you just placed when the same person grabs your wrist.

The mugs sway in your hand, the beer in it pouring over your fingers a little as it sloshed. “Sir?” You ask as the man’s hand tightens around your wrist. 

The man grunts and growls “Make sure you tell the bartender to give me a discount for giving the wrong order!” Drunkards were like that. They were loud and sometimes couldn’t control themselves, you twist your wrist away successfully and relay the message to the bartender, though you noticed that Albedo was there too, waiting for you to come back. 

Albedo catches your arm and lifts your wrist up to eye level. There’s a blank look on his face that you can’t quite read and for a moment his eyes dangerously flicker to the group of tavern-goers who gave you trouble. You sense that he’s a little irked. “It’s okay ‘Bedo, I’m fine, just the usual rowdy people, you know?” You reassure him and his stern face drops, replaced by that of defeat with a small sigh.

It’s “just the usual” you say. He doesn’t quite know how to feel about that, if this was “usual”, yet he understood. Every job came with its risks and this was already relatively safer than being an adventurer. Albeo sighs again and brings your wrist up to his lips, his eyes yet again dart towards the said table. He really wanted to have a word with those rude men, but he avoided conflict for your sake. 

“Alright, Y/N. As long as you keep your promise,” he reminds you. Jogging your memory that you had promised to tell him if something dire really happens at work.

Ayato

When his status affects you

You’re aware that ever since you and Ayato were married, his shuumatsuban had also been following you around. Ayato reassured you that it was for your own good, and you somewhat agreed. You weren’t that bothered by it, since the shuumatsuban were so good at concealing their presence, it seemed like nothing changed in your every day routine.

“Master Ayato,” and so imagine Ayato’s annoyance when he receives a report from one of his men that you were being tailed by someone suspicious. “...Capture him,”

In the secret dungeons of the Kamisato residence, there is a pitiful man sitting in the middle of a cell with bars. Kamisato Ayato stands in front of him, cold and calculating look on his face. “State your reason for tailing Y/N,” he would break this man quick, and get all the answers he needed for your safety.

“I-I-I swear I’m not a bad guy! I just--Someone told me they’d pay me a huge amount of money to kidnap Y/N!” Ayato doesn’t break his cold gaze from the man, but he also can’t control the way he unsheathes his sword and starts to clean it with a cloth, as if getting ready for an execution.

“Then for your own good I suggest you give me all the names of these people who bribed you,” His tone is calm, but also eerie. “After that’s done, you won’t lay your eyes on Y/N again... Is that understood?” 

He couldn’t afford for anything to happen to you, specially not when it was because of him.

Bennett

When his bad luck affects you

Bennett had been quiet the whole way back to Mondstadt. As per usual a few things happened that proved his luck was horrid. 

Today seemed to be one of the worst.

Not only did you not finish the commission given to you, but things happened one after the other.

First, the two of you couldn’t find the monster you were looking for. Second, when you finally found it, it proved to be difficult to subdue. Third, the treasure the two of you found was not really treasure at all. Fourth, you could not find the item that you were supposed to bring back to town and finally, fifth, a once wonderful, cloudless and breezy day suddenly turned glum and the rain poured down on your heads.

Bennett was utterly defeated, and you knew it cause he had been quiet up until the gates of Mondstadt, when the two of you finally took shelter for a moment from the rain. He usually would still be upbeat and positive, no matter what he went through, but seeing you sneeze and shiver in the rain, on top of being tired and grimey, he really couldn’t help but hate his bad luck.

You glanced at him at the corner of your eye, he was looking at the ground with his brows furrowed. The look of frustration was foreign in his face but you said what you always did after an adventure with him. “...Today was fun, Bennett. Let’s go again tomorrow!”

His head snaps up in an instant, eyes wide and tracing your face for any lies and dishonesty. All he saw was your bright smile and eager disposition. Truthfully you had learned to be incredibly positive because of him, and if he needed a little bit of that positivity, then you were willing to give it back, no matter how hard things were.

For a split second his lips looked as if they trembled, his shoulders relaxed and a wobbly smile appears on his face. He nearly barrels into you with a hug, and mumbles “You’re the best Y/N,”

Bennett always thought that you were his sun, and he loved every bit of the time he spent with you.

Chongyun

When he isn’t able to protect you

“’Yun?” You call out from your sitting position on your bed, and Chongyun, for the umpteenth time that day, slightly jerks up on the chair next to you, eyes darting towards your face. 

“Hm?” he says, trying to brush off the fact that he had been zoning out, small, shy smile on his face.

You’re silent for a moment, staring back at him. The cogs in your mind working a bit more. “...You’re upset aren’t you?” 

The way he tenses up at your accusation tells you the answer, but still he denies it. “N-No,” 

You sigh, your bandaged arm resting on your side. The wound didn’t hurt that much, but Chongyun was the one who insisted he’d feed you instead of making you use your dominant, injured arm. He was so embarrassed when he offered it. Face red and unsure what to say except that he was holding the bowl of porridge your mother made in his hands and that was enough of a cue for you. 

“...Aah,” You open your mouth again, and that’s when Chongyun snaps out of it, realizing that he hadn’t even finished feeding you. So he proceeds to give you another spoonful. 

“You know it’s not your fault, right?” You confirm after you swallow that bite and he again tenses up without saying anything. 

You knew he hated it when the two of you went adventuring together and you ended up getting hurt. Occasionally it would be him with the injury, but when you got injured, somehow, to him, it was a graver matter than him getting hurt. 

That statement opens his dam of insecurities. “I’m too weak...If I had been a little faster...”

“I must be pretty weak too then, if I wasn’t even able to dodge it,” you counter and you see him open his mouth in protest but close it again, knowing that you had laid a trap for him if he disagreed. He went silent again. 

“...I think you’re really cool Chongyun, the way you handle your claymore makes you look really handsome,” you giggled a little cause you knew he was going to go red and sputter out a response. 

“W-W-What do you mean?” He proceeds to shove another spoonful in your face, probably so that you wouldn’t actually be able to reply. “A-Anyway...I...I’ll work harder to protect you,” he finishes his sentence and you don’t protest nor say another thing anymore, seeing as he at least got some of his good mood back. 

Dainsleif

When you don’t keep a promise

“You said you would meet me by the tree in Windrise. Imagine my distress when you didn’t show up,” Dainsleif had his arms crossed over his chest, eyes actually glaring at you. 

“I know but you know how things can get. The job was a little more difficult than expected and it took longer to finish,” 

You’d found yourself trudging deep through the forest to locate the cabin he considered his “home”. Far away from everything else and nearly impossible to locate if you had never been there before. You arrived by morning, knocking at his door and unsurprised with the dumbfounded look on his face. 

He still welcomed you in, but he didn’t say a word and the air was tense even as he placed a glass of water on the table for you. 

Then you were here, getting the lecture from him. 

“Then you shouldn’t have promised to be there. It’s a simple thing to communicate with me that you’re not sure when you’ll be done, I would have waited,” He continued and you sighed, cause you knew that he was right. You really shouldn’t have promised you were going to be there on time. It’s not as if it’d be the end of the world if you were a day or two late. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I guess I just wanted to see you as soon as I could and I wasn’t thinking,” you should’ve known by now that promises were a heavy thing to Dainsleif. 

You heard him give out one of his own sighs and then his hand cups your chin and tilts it up to meet him eye to eye. “I trust you understand why I’m angry,” his voice had levelled down a little, and though he was frustrated earlier you can always see the worry behind his gaze and the love in his eyes. 

You smile a little and nod your head, still a little apologetic. “If I can’t find you, if you happen to go missing, do you know what that would do to me?” He asks you, eyes finally dropping the glare and just softly gazing at you.

“I know,” you whisper and lean your face closer to his hand. Your arm reaches out to hold his coat, tugging on it a little as if a small child. “...I know you weren’t able to sleep...and I spent the whole night trying to make it back to you...so can we rest for a bit?” You suggest and he found it a good idea.

He wordlessly sweeps you into his arms and kisses your forehead, bringing the two of you into the bedroom.

Diluc

When you forget to tell him where you’re going and he doesn’t know where you are

“Adelinde, did Y/N mention skipping dinner today?” Diluc asked his head maid. He was alone at the dinner table and you were nowhere to be found in the mansion. 

Adelinde considered her words carefully. A slight misuse of words would send the young master into a spiral of worry and anxiety. She was a hundred percent sure you had just forgotten to tell someone that you were going to be out for dinner, because you’ve done it before, bless your bad memory, but Adelinde really wished you would at least tell the young master. 

“...They didn’t mention, Master Diluc...but I’m sure they must be out on some errands in Mondstadt,” it was a gamble for Adelinde to state that, because she also didn’t know where you were, and she would be in deep trouble if you didn’t come home at all.

Diluc started to eat, albeit slowly and glanced at Adelinde when she made that statement. “...Did they mention going on an errand?” he asked again, to which Adelinde now had to truthfully reply. “...No,” 

Cue the distress in Diluc’s features. Furrowed brows, cutlery not even moving, eyes calculating. You could practically see all the assumptions run through his face. Maybe you were in trouble, maybe you were taken, maybe you were lost somewhere and needed help. You would have said something if you were going to be home late, no? 

Diluc dropped his cutlery on the table, and he started going back through his memories to determine whether or not you actually had said anything about today. He would have remembered, and as far as he could tell, you didn’t say anything about not having dinner with him today, or anything of the sort.

He was about to push himself up and away from the table, to double check at Mondstadt if anyone had seen you, when the front door opened, revealing you with a basket of goods and a smile on your face. Diluc practically deflated, your name a sigh on his lips, “Y/N,” 

You knew that look, and you knew that look that Adelinde was giving you. “Oh Archons. I’m sorry, I went out in a hurry and just forgot to tell anyone where I was going,” your smile dropped almost immediately as you scurried over to the table with an apologetic gaze on your face turned towards Diluc.

You knew how worried he could get, he could already feel the adrenaline starting to pump through him, thinking about all the worst case scenarios. Diluc sighed once again, repositioning himself properly in front of the table and picking up his cutlery again. He was slightly angry, you could tell. Mostly because this wasn’t the first time it had happened. “...Put your things down and we can eat,” he simply said and you pouted a little while passing the things over to Adelinde, then sitting on your side of the table.

“...I don’t get my welcome back kiss?” You chide him playfully, to which his eyes lazily graze over you and back to his plate of food.

“When you start remembering to tell someone where you’re going in the middle of the night, I’ll start giving you your welcome back kisses,” he strictly exclaims and you could only grumble under your breath.

Gorou

When he spends too much time training or working and loses time with you

“Hahhhh...” Gorou plops down on the tatami floor of his home with a loud and long sigh. Not only was training and the patrols a little harsh today, but that was another day gone without getting to see you.

How long had it been now? Eight, nine days? He was starting to get really antsy about not being able to see you and he knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault but his. 

That night he couldn’t immediately fall into a peaceful sleep. He tossed whenever he thought of you and turned whenever he started thinking too much of what the two of you would do together the next time you saw each other. It was like planning out a whole date in his mind but realizing that he didn’t even have any day offs soon. So he would deflate and be disappointed in himself, try to go to sleep, then get carried away thinking about you again, causing him to snap his eyes open and repeat the thinking process.

“Arrghhh!” At some point he shakes his head and shuts his eyes tight, the frustration getting to him. He had to sleep, or he’ll have a really tiring day tomorrow. 

When he woke up the next morning to knocks on his door he immediately thought he had overslept. He scrambled to his feet, swinging the door open with his still disheveled fluffy hair and said “I-I’ll be right there! I just--” then he reels back, blinking, realizing that it was you standing there are the door. “Y-Y/N?! What’re you doing here?”

He smooths his hair down, tries to pat down his wrinkly house clothes but his eyes are tacked on to you, wide and happy. 

“I figured I’d visit you this time, since you seem really busy,” you laugh sheepishly, scratching your cheek. “I hope I’m not intruding,”

“Of course not!” He replies quickly but coughs on his hand right after. “I-I mean. Yeah, you’re always welcome here,” he smiles and beams at you, but then slumps his shoulders right after. “I...I still have work though, so I won’t be able to spend a lot of time with you...”

You shake your head and wave your hands “That’s alright! I can still spend lunch and dinner with you, right? That’s more than enough for me,” 

His heart blooms with a warmth that engulfs his body, his cheeks might have turned red. You were just oh-so sweet to him and oh-so kind, he didn’t know what he did to deserve an angel like you.

Heizou

When he can’t help you with your problems

Heizou is a genius at solving problems, but he knows that sometimes there are problems that he can’t solve nor he shouldn’t interfere with. One of those was problems within your family.

Sure, he had solutions and probably ways to diffuse the rising tensions in your family, but he wasn’t really in the right place to do so. All he could do is listen to you rant and complain about how things are getting so much harder with your mom and dad, and you just wanting to run away from it all, move out as soon as you can but you were tied down with the obligation of caring for your sick mother. 

It pains him and frustrates him, watching you stress over it day by day, but as much as he wanted to tell your parents that they were affecting you this much, there are some things that he shouldn’t meddle with. 

All he could do was offer advice. “...Perhaps move out and live somewhere close to them? It would still give you the advantage of privacy,” he suggests, as he sits next to you on a bench, arm coming around and behind your back, hand resting on your hip.

“I would, but the houses nearby are actually pricey, mostly because they’re family houses, not for a single person rent,” You lean sideways into him. He’s always so good at giving you solutions, though you’re unaware of the internal battle inside him, seeing you so distraught like this.

“...Well why not live with me then?” You can hear that familiar mischief in his voice, and though you know he’s joking it still flusters you. 

“D-Don’t say that as a joke, Heizou!” He chuckles at your reaction, just as he expected, but he leans in to place a kiss atop your head, his next sentences sending a shiver up your spine. “It’s a joke now, but someday I’ll make it real, regardless of what your parents say,”

Of course he ends it with a wink.

Itto

When someone hurts you and he witnesses it

Itto doesn’t get angry easily. He just doesn’t have the capacity for it. He was loud, yes, but good natured overall and never means any actual harm to anyone. 

Unfortunately you can’t say the same thing about some people in Inazuma. For the most part, people were friendly, amicable, helpful...but sometimes there were the odd balls that just appeared out of nowhere, wreaking havoc when they wanted to.

Just the other day a group of ronin who claimed to be the strongest group of vagabonds roaming Inazuma entered town and they were loud and gruff about it. “Where’s the best inn in town?” They asked at the entrance, and a kind man directed them towards it.

The next day that man was bullied by the same ronin. “We said the BEST inn in town, not the most EXPENSIVE!” You had witnessed it, the man who was just trying to help them was starting to cower backwards, the ronin were complaining about the price of the room, how they wanted the man to pay for it and you just couldn’t stand that blatant bullying.

“What’s your problem? Of course it’s going to be expensive!” You appeared behind the group and just couldn’t help but be angry at their stupidity and overall disgusting behaviour. One of them looks at you, then starts to laugh and the others follow suit, all laughing at you as if you were a clown on the streets.

You didn’t falter and merely crossed your arms above your chest. “If you have nothing better to do then maybe you should look for a job so you can pay for your next inn,” was provoking them a good idea? Of course not, and you knew that.

One of the ronins grabs you and twists your arm behind your back. You could only let out a whimper at the sudden motion but as soon as it happened it was over. You found yourself suddenly pushed behind, looking at Itto’s back as he shoves the ronin away with a harsh force. 

“The hell do you think you’re doing touching Y/N like that?!” Itto’s voice is loud, louder than when he’s excited about eating ramen or louder than when he’s discovered a magnificent onikabuto. The anger in his voice is unusual, you don’t immediately recognize it as his.

Itto’s tall. Taller than any of the ronin around you and suddenly it’s as if the ronin become meek little mice, stepping away from him and you. “W-We were just--”

Itto brandishes his claymore, “Less talking, more fighting. You want a real arm wrestle? Come at me,” you can’t imagine what kind of face he’s making, but the ronin--actually just cowards--runs at the sight of Itto’s weapon and he’s just about to go after them when you call out to him, telling him to calm down.

He doesn’t listen easily, but you place a hand on his arm and he stops, still glaring and huffing at the sight of those stupid ronins running away. 

Scaramouche

When you have to be paired up with another Harbinger for work

“You’re going with who?” There’s poison dripping from his voice, but you’re so used to his antics by now that it doesn’t scare you one bit.

“Tartaglia. The Tsaritsa said--”

“Fuck what the Tsaritsa says,” Scaramouche cuts you off. “You’re not going with that fool,” He stands and paces back and forth now. You simply sit at the table and watch him, knowing that he’s going to throw one of his “tantrums” again. “Possibly the worst person to go on a mission with,” he continues to grumble, now biting on his thumb.

“You always get worked up whenever the two of us are paired up together. It really isn’t that bad,” you exclaim, shrugging your shoulders and he stops walking to glare at you. 

“So it’s a little bad? Is that what you’re insinuating?” He doesn’t let you finish and adds. “You don’t know how dangerous he is,”

You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh quite obviously. “Scara, I think you’re more dangerous?”

Tartaglia

“I’m different,” He mumbles under his breath.

When his alone time with you gets interrupted

Thoma

When you get sick but he’s busy

Venti

When he hasn’t seen you in days

Xiao

When he wants you to stay

Xingqiu

When a book he’s reading isn’t as good as he thought it would be

Zhongli

When someone doesn’t respect your boundaries

Consider supporting me and read some exclusive fics!

https://ko-fi.com/primofate

Masterlist

https://primofate.tumblr.com/post/653296890583154688/masterlist-for-mobile-version-main-links

[noirscript]

domestic bliss

Pairing: Nicholas Sterling III x reader Description: Seven months pregnant with Nicholas’ child, you should feel safe—but the walls are too close, the air too thick, and the doors never quite open. This is normal. This is love. But you know better. Warning/s: Yandere. That's it. Note: Another commission for @violetvase ! Thank you so much for your support. I hope you enjoy this! Parts: ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

Masterlist | Commission | Tip Jar

The slow murmur of a saxophone spills from the gramophone in the corner, weaving itself between the soft clatter of silverware against the finest china you’ve ever touched. The weight of the utensils feels foreign in your grasp, as if they belong to someone else, someone meant to sit at this table without the quiet thrum of panic coiling beneath their skin.

Nicholas sits next to you, his gaze a constant, possessive thing, lingering even when he pretends to focus on slicing into his steak with meticulous care. Across you, his mother lifts her wine glass with an elegance that seems second nature, her smile warm but knowing, like she’s in on the secret of your existence here.

The music hums on, smooth and slow, a lover’s whisper against the walls. A mockery of peace.

“Eat, darling,” Nicholas urges, his voice gentle, coaxing, but beneath it—an edge, a command.

You pick up your fork, pressing it into the soft meat, feeling its tenderness yield beneath the tines. The motion is automatic, rehearsed. Just another performance in the fragile illusion of normalcy that drapes over this house like lace, delicate enough to tear if you breathe the wrong way.

The clink of silver against porcelain fades into the background as his mother sets down her glass, eyes gleaming with something both mischievous and wounded. The warm glow of the chandelier overhead does little to soften the accusation in her gaze as she looks between you and Nicholas.

“You know, I had to hear it from Nara,” she announces, her tone light, but her posture stiff, expectant.

Nicholas exhales through his nose, the smallest shift in his expression betraying his exasperation. “Mother—”

“No, no, don’t you ‘Mother’ me.” She leans forward, her manicured fingers curling against the edge of the table as if she’s physically reining herself in. “I was there for everything. I helped pick out the crib, the clothes, the bottles—I have been involved. And yet, the one detail I don’t know, the one surprise left, you keep from me?” She presses a hand to her chest, as if personally wounded. “You let me go shopping without knowing if I was buying for my grandson or granddaughter?”

There’s something almost childlike in the way she pouts, a stark contrast to the polished woman she presents herself as. It’s unsettling. Endearing, in a way. Dangerous, in another.

Nicholas sighs, setting his knife down with deliberate care. “It wasn’t intentional. We weren’t keeping it from you.”

His mother gasps, dramatic, pressing her hand over her heart as though he just struck her. “Oh, so I suppose I was just forgotten, then?”

You shift in your seat, pressing your palm over the swell of your stomach in an absentminded gesture. The weight of her attention flicks to you instantly, eyes softening. She reaches forward, fingers brushing your wrist as she squeezes gently, reassuringly. “And you let him do this to me?” she asked, though there’s no real malice in it. Just a sort of helpless fondness, the kind that worms its way into your ribs and makes you question whether you should be charmed or unsettled.

“I—I didn’t think—”

“Oh, darling, don’t you start.” She releases you with a huff, shaking her head. “Honestly, Nicholas. A boy. A grandson. And I had to hear it secondhand? You are impossible.”

Nicholas rubs his temple, the tension in his shoulders making it abundantly clear that this is not a new conversation between them. “It’s hardly life-altering news.”

“For you, maybe. But I’ve been waiting for this moment since you were in the womb.” She exhales, long-suffering, before fixing you with a smile, warm and indulgent. “At least tell me you’re excited. A little bit?”

Excited. The word rolls through you, foreign, unfamiliar, heavy. There are many things you feel—excitement is not among them. But her smile is expectant, and Nicholas’s stare unwavering, and so you force yourself to nod.

Her expression brightens instantly, eyes alight with something almost reverent as she reaches for your hand again. “Oh, we have so much to plan, don’t we? The nursery, the final touches—at least now I know which colors to lean into. Not that I mind terribly. He’ll be beautiful, I just know it.”

The weight of expectation settles around you, cloying and thick, wrapping itself around your throat like a velvet ribbon. You smile, small and polite, and Nicholas’s fingers brush against yours beneath the table, a silent warning, a quiet claim.

The music plays on, smooth and slow, curling through the air like smoke.

A mockery of peace.

His mother dabs at the corner of her lips with a linen napkin before setting it aside, fingers lacing together atop the table. Her eyes gleam with something more calculating now, a shift from playful grievance to something with sharper edges.

“There’s also the Thanksgiving party coming up,” she says, almost offhandedly. “It’s important, Nicholas. A celebration of everything you’ve built after…everything.”

Your stomach knots.

His mother doesn’t say it outright, but you hear it anyway. After everything. After you.

Nicholas’s grip tightens around his fork, just for a second, before he forces himself to relax. “I know.”

“And I think it’s time people saw her,” she continues, gesturing toward you with a knowing smile. “The world need to know who she is.”

Something flickers behind Nicholas’s eyes. A shadow of something cold, possessive. His lips press together. “That’s not necessary.”

His mother tilts her head, bemused. “Oh, but it is. People are curious, Nicholas. And you can’t just keep her locked away forever.

Can’t he?

The words hang unspoken between them, but you can feel the weight of them, thick and suffocating. Your pulse thrums against your skin.

Nicholas doesn’t respond right away. He studies his mother, his fingers curling, tapping once against the table. A silent war.

Then, his mother smiles, almost too brightly. “You know, I’ve been telling everyone in my circle how beautiful your story is. How you fell in love with her, Nicholas. How it wasn’t about the money, wasn’t about anything but her. It’s the perfect tale of destiny. The romance between the caretaker, who is so dedicated and selfless, and the patient, who fell for the one person who wasn’t just there for the inheritance.”

Your heart drops.

His mother’s gaze softens, as if she’s remembering some distant, sentimental moment. “How you looked at her the first time, knowing she wasn’t like the others. How she cried for you, Nicholas, when you missed a step and had to get stitches on your forehead. You never saw it, but she wept for you. She never confessed her feelings, not once. But I knew. I always knew.

Nicholas’s jaw tightens, but his eyes shift toward you, locking in place, dark and cold.

“I know how it looks, Mother.” His voice is quiet, but there’s a chill to it, something that cuts through the warmth of the room. “But this isn’t something we need to broadcast.”

His mother leans back, a knowing smile playing at her lips. “Oh, but it’s not just about what you need, Nicholas. It’s about what’s right. People should see the connection between you two. They’ll understand. They’ll see that this isn’t just some simple arrangement between patient and caretaker.”

Your stomach churns.

She turns her attention to you, her eyes soft and calculating as she smiles. “It’s time they knew you. Time they saw the bond that has been blossoming here. They’ll admire you, just as I do. A love story no one could ever forget.”

Nicholas’s hand clenches into a fist, the subtle tension in his posture thickening with every word his mother speaks. “I’m not hiding her, Mother. But this… this is too much.”

His mother shakes her head, dismissing his concerns. “Oh, it’s not too much. It’s necessary.”

Her gaze shifts to you again, her smile wide and almost too warm. “You’ve been part of this family for a while now, darling. You should be proud to stand by his side.”

The tension in the room thickens, and Nicholas’s words come out with a quiet but unmistakable fury. “Fine. You’ve had your say. I’ll agree, but on my terms.”

His mother beams, victorious. “Perfect. I’ll make the arrangements. And we’ll have a beautiful celebration.”

She stands, smooth and graceful, as if nothing had just shifted between the three of you. She walks toward Nicholas, kissing him on the cheek before moving to you, cupping your face with a delicate touch. “I’ll see you soon, darling,” she says, voice sweet but laced with something else.

Then, with a final glance, she’s gone, leaving behind only the scent of her perfume and the tension that suffocates the room.

The door clicks shut, and Nicholas moves without warning.

You barely have time to react before he’s on you, his arms crushing you against him with a force that steals your breath. It’s not a tender embrace—no, it’s a claim. A marking. His body presses you into the hard line of his chest, every inch of him seething with something dark, something urgent. His breath is hot against your temple, teeth grazing the soft curve of your ear as he speaks in a low, dangerous murmur.

“You won’t try again, will you?” His voice is a promise, low and silky, but underneath it—there’s an edge. A tremor of barely contained violence.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight with the weight of his words. You know exactly what he means. Not another escape. Not another attempt.

But there’s no need to answer. He already knows.

His hand slides down your arm, the touch almost too gentle, too calculating. He traces over the skin where the tracker resides—silent, invisible, but always there. A reminder. His fingers press against the spot, not gently, but with a purposeful intensity, as if marking his territory. As if claiming you even more thoroughly than before.

“Don’t you dare think you can run again,” he growls, his voice dropping to a whisper, sharp and venomous, like a blade pressed to your skin. “You think you can outsmart me? You’re not getting away. Not this time.”

His lips graze your jaw, brushing against your skin, before his teeth catch the edge of your earlobe, biting down just enough to make your breath catch. A small, cruel sound escapes you, and he groans low in his throat, the sound rough with restrained hunger.

“You’re mine. Always have been. And no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be free of me.” His grip on you tightens, his hands moving to frame your face, cupping your cheeks with a possessiveness that feels like it’s suffocating you. He brings you in closer, his forehead pressing against yours, and his eyes are dark pools of something that looks far too much like obsession. “You’ll never escape. Not from me. Not from this.”

His thumb traces over your bottom lip, slow, deliberate, as if he’s savoring the moment. His gaze never leaves your face, and the intensity of it makes your skin crawl. There’s nothing kind in that look. Only ownership. Only control.

“You don’t understand, do you?” he murmurs, almost tenderly, though the violence lurking in his tone is unmistakable. “You’re mine, and no one can take you from me. Not now, not ever.”

His fingers tighten again, pressing against your throat just enough to remind you of his power. You can barely breathe, but the air is thick with the tension between you, heavy and suffocating.

“Try to run again,” he whispers, lips curling into something that almost resembles a smile. “And I’ll make sure you regret it.”

He pulls back just enough to study your face, his gaze piercing, as if he’s waiting for some acknowledgment—some understanding that you’re his, fully, completely. The smile that creeps across his lips is soft, but it’s a predator’s smile. A cruel, possessive thing.

“You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” he asks, voice silky and lethal.

His hands fall to your waist, pulling you closer once more, as if there’s no space in the world for anyone else, least of all you.

The music plays on, but now it’s no longer a mockery of peace. It’s the sound of a predator circling its prey, the rhythm slow, steady, inevitable.

And you, like everything else in this house, belong to him.

• ─────⋅☾ ☽⋅───── •

The opulence of the evening drapes over you like the gown Nicholas selected himself—silken fabric gliding against your skin, hugging your form in a way that flatters but does not constrict. The deep, muted hue shimmers under the golden glow of chandeliers, reflecting the wealth and status of the people who fill the room.

Nicholas never leaves your side. His hand rests possessively at the small of your back, a constant, grounding pressure that reminds you of his claim. You move only when he moves, speak only when prompted, and even then, your voice is little more than an ornament to the conversation, unnecessary yet expected. His mother beams at you, at him, at the perfect picture she’s presenting to the world.

“She was never after the money,” she coos to the women gathered around. “And she never even confessed her feelings for him, you know? But the moment Nicholas got stitches—oh, she cried for him. That’s how I knew it was real.”

A delighted hum ripples through the circle of elegantly dressed women. They look at you with something warm, something approving. As if you’re the epitome of devotion, of a love story too good to be hidden away.

Nicholas answers for you when questions arise, his voice smooth and unwavering, crafting a narrative you have no say in. His mother basks in it, weaving you into her world with delicate precision, ensuring every guest understand just how deeply Nicholas loves you—and how deeply you love him.

A hand at your elbow startles you. Not Nicholas. Trevor, his assistant.

His voice is gentle, polite, carefully measured. “Forgive me for interrupting, sir,” he says, directing his words to Nicholas first before his gaze flickers to you. “But I believe she may need a moment to step away. Just for some air.”

Your breath stills. Nicholas’s fingers press into your waist, a barely perceptible squeeze. He doesn’t look at you, only at Trevor, assessing, calculating. Trevor’s tone remains respectful, non-confrontational, but he does not backdown.

“She hasn’t said a word about it,” he adds softly, “but I can tell.”

Nicholas exhales through his nose, the tension in his jaw visible, but before he can respond, his father’s voice cuts through the murmur of conversation.

“Nicholas.”

It isn’t just a summons—it’s an expectation, a command wrapped in the weight of authority. When Nicholas turns, his father is watching him from across the room, a hand raised in a subtle but unmistakable gesture. “Come. They’re waiting.”

The business partners. Nicholas cannot refuse, not without making a statement that would ripple through the evening.

His grip tightens briefly before he turns his attention back to Trevor. “Stay with her,” he commands, low and firm. “Not for long.”

Trevor inclines his head. “Of course, sir.”

Nicholas studies him for a moment longer, then his gaze drops to you. Dark. Unreadable. His thumb brushes over your wrist—a silent warning—before he finally steps away, striding toward his father with practiced ease.

The moment he’s out of earshot, Trevor exhales, lowering his voice. “Just a moment outside, if you’d like,” he offers, his tone light but kind. “I’ll stay with you.”

The weight of Nicholas’s absence is both a relief and a phantom pressure still lingering against your skin.

You nod. Trevor does not smile, but something in his expression softens.

He leads you away, and for the first time tonight, you breathe.

• ─────⋅☾ ☽⋅───── •

The night air is crisp against your skin, a welcome contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the party. The city sprawls beneath the balcony, lights twinkling like distant stars, but they feel as unreachable as freedom itself.

Trevor stands beside you, silent at first, his presence neither overwhelming nor intrusive. Just there. Allowing you the space to breathe.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. “For noticing.”

Trevor turns his head slightly, studying you with quiet curiosity. “Noticing?”

You exhale, fingers brushing against the smooth railing. “It’s been a while since someone did.”

His gaze lingers, patient, waiting for you to say more. You hesitate, warring with yourself before the words slip free, fragile yet firm. “I wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t even supposed to meet him.”

Trevor says nothing, but his attention sharpens, an unspoken invitation for you to continue.

You swallow, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I applied for the job in place of my friend. She… she couldn’t make it, and I thought… just one day. Just enough to help her. But he wouldn’t let me go.”

Trevor’s brow furrows. He remains silent, but you can feel the weight of his concern.

“I tried to leave.” You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. “Three times. And every time, I failed. I don’t even try anymore. I can’t. Not when—” Your hand drifts instinctively to your stomach, fingers ghosting over the fabric of your gown. “Not when my child deserves better than a mother who keeps running and failing.”

Trevor’s jaw tightens. “So, you stay. For your child.”

You nod. “If it means they grow up safe, with everything they need… I’ll play the part he wants.”

Trevor exhales slowly, his fingers curling into fists before he forces them to relax. Then, carefully, he reaches out, his hand grazing yours before settling against the back of it. A silent promise. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

You blink up at him, unsure if you misheard. “Trevor—”

“I’ll help you.” His grip tightens, his voice unwavering. “We’ll find a way. I swear it.”

A lump forms in your throat, emotions threatening to spill over, but before you can speak, before you can even process the gravity of his words, the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

Something feels off.

Unbeknownst to either of you, hidden beneath the rich ruby of your ring, a tiny bug transmits every whispered confession. And standing just beyond the entrance to the balcony, in the shadows cast by the golden light of the ballroom, Nicholas listens.

Watching.

Waiting.

And the look on his face is anything but forgiving.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @fandangoballs @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger

[muletia]

First of all I LOVE your fics!! Thank you for feeding my delusions (like its totally normal to be obsessed with a robot)

I just keep imagining this scenario where the reader and optimus are kinda in the flirting stage, and she has to attend an office party, so after saving her ass from cons, he drops her off at the venue, and she has to change. She does that in the truck and checks herself in the mirror, and he compliments her. She then gives him a kiss on the dashboard and the hood and leaves. Ratchet notices that optimus is in a daze and asks why does he have red splotches on his face and chest (reader kissed him with red lipstick on).

What do you think his reaction would be like and if the kids notice its kiss marks

thank you <33 and dw i'm feeding my own delusions, no thoughts, head full of giant obsessed robots (let's pretend that opti knows what lipstick is for this, okay??)

word count: 730

He feels the warmth of your lips on his armor long after you’ve parted ways. You delivered your blows swiftly, yet precisely, and above all, skillfully—because Optimus cannot stop thinking about them. It was a small gesture, perhaps left by you in a rush of emotion when he directed a compliment your way, or maybe it was intentional, meant to torture him just a little, to leave a mark behind, ensuring he’d think of you constantly until your return. For him, however, the implications of your action were enormous, hinting at a quiet passion. And perhaps his fantasies seized control of him immediately, but he was convinced they meant far more than just a goodbye. They implied something else. Something closer, more intimate. Were you trying to tell him something? Prove something to him? As a leader, he needed to be certain at all times, but you were someone he could never quite figure out. How could someone so noble also torment him so much?

He drives into the base and transforms, though his thoughts remain with you—your warm lips, the boundless trust you showed him, the gentleness you displayed toward him. He vividly remembers the texture of your soft, warm lips against him. He’s even convinced they’re still there, infecting him with their heat, awakening desires he tries not to entertain. For they are unclean and unworthy of you, and, above all, unworthy of him.

"Optimus?"

But oh, how much he would give to once again be the center of your attention. For you to honor him with another kiss. It could be imprecise, unclear—it could leave him pondering its meaning for ages, as well as searching for the reason you chose to bestow it upon him in the first place. The pretext wouldn’t matter when it meant your focus was solely on him.

"Optimus?"

He returns to the real world. Ratchet greets him, clearly displeased that the leader of the Autobots was lost in thought instead of focusing on reality. In this case, Optimus is forced to push you to the back of his processor, though he is disheartened by the necessity. He wonders how long he can last—how long until you envelop him in your warmth again and he finds himself dissecting every gesture, every glance, wondering if this particular interaction was more romantic than the rest.

"My apologies, my friend. It seems I became lost in my thoughts."

"This has been happening more and more often lately. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. Did something happen during your journey?"

Optimus arches a brow, surprised.

"No, I reached the base without any issues. Why do you ask?"

"This."

Ratchet points to a spot on his chassis, just beneath the left windshield, on the freshly polished red paint. Then, oh Primus, to his faceplate. Optimus doesn’t need a mirror to know what specifically the medic is pointing at. And for the first time in a very, very long time, he feels embarrassment creeping in, exposing a sliver of his emotions to the world.

He subtly turns his head and covers his mouth with his servo, for at this moment, he has no excuse for this situation.

“Ooooooh, I know what this is, I know!” Miko shouts, having been bored out of her mind just moments ago.

“Miko, calm down,” Jack scolds, noticing Optimus’s discomfort.

But Miko couldn’t care less.

“It's lipstick and the marks mean that boss bot has someone who really likes him.” She emphasizes "really" and giggles. The situation becomes even funnier as Ratchet rolls his optics.

“Ah yes, I forgot you were dropping [Name] off,” he sighs. “Just get together already, I beg of you.”

“It is not that simple,” Optimus clears his throat.

“Mhm, sure.”

Prime leaves the hangar, metaphorical tail between his legs, intent on erasing the evidence of his “crime.” He should have expected that your affections would eventually be noticed (they were, long ago), but he would have preferred for it not to happen under such humiliating circumstances.

He touches the spot Ratchet pointed to with a digit. He can still feel your lips there—their warmth, the sparks you shared with him. And if it were up to him, he would never get rid of your marks, the proof of belonging to you, of being yours alone. But the world around him was not ready for that.

[bodhiscurls]

run for the hills. ( garrick tavis )

you knew it was dangerous to fall in love with garrick tavis and you did it anyways, you should've known it was never going to be you when it has always been her. part of 'garrick week' day 7 - free @empyreanevents for a better reading experience, listen to run for the hills - tate mcrae! tagging @thelov3lybookworm (i didnt forget you mwah!!)

pairing: garrick tavis x fem! reader, implied garrick tavis x imogen cardulo

themes: angst, swearing (not a lot), fighting (but you're decent at it)

he pulled you in with that easy grin, those dimples that popped like two holes sucking you in and once you slipped you fell hard.

"boo," he whispers in your ear and makes you jump slightly, hand going to steady your heart. you've bonded to a dragon, you can move mountains with your mind and yet a certain gentle giant was the one thing that can catch you off guard.

you pace yourself after a moment and get ready to scold him to which he returns with a loud laugh, "didn't catch you this morning?" you ask lightly. he didn't usually stay the night often, but some nights when the two of you were so wrapped up in each others embrace, tangled into the mess of sweet nothings he stayed. you slept to the sound of his rising heartbeat as he held your frame close and it felt so perfect.

so perfect that you forgot about all the other times, he'd slip free into the thick of the early morning. the first few times it didn't bother you, this wasn't anything serious and he made sure you knew that going into this situation. then he started staying the nights, starting searching for you in a sea of cadets in the food hall and looking at you a little bit more meaningful, like something had softened in him and it melted you to your core.

oh was that warmth dangerous.

"just something xaden needed," he shrugs off and the tone of indifference is hard to ignore. it sets into the pits of your stomach and lingers there a little too long. it was always something on the nights he didn't stay, but never enough to warrant an actual reason and if you didn't know any better it felt that he didn't trust you enough to know the real reason. like he gave you the key to his heart but you still had to knock to enter.

you bite your lip and his gaze narrows down on you, eyes sharp in focus. "hey hey hey beautiful," he whispers, finger tracing your lip where your teeth had left a small pink indent. "whats wrong?"

his tone is too gentle that you hardly recognise that dirty footprints it leaves on your mind. you match his ambigous tone, deciding that this morning was not the morning to get into it. "nothing," you let a small smile rise and press a soft kiss to his lips. "meet me for dinner?" deflection, at its finest.

"sure thing, doll," his lazy drawl comes and flips butterflies in to your stomach all over and you forget the reason why you were ever apprehensive with this almost relationship in the beginning. and then he disappears into the crowd of cadets, throwing a wink over his shoulder and blowing a kiss to the wind.

dinner doesn't come, or it tries to but it's an hour too late and not the way you imagined.

"garrick, wha-" you immediately stand from the wall you've been sitting on for the past sixty minutes. the dining hall closed and to save face from embarrassment of being stood up by the infamous bachelor of bagsiath you decided you'd rather starve than face the smug stares of 'i told you so' from your squad.

he crushes you into a kiss, lips enveloping yours. it comes fiercely and quite aggressively, that you pull back in confusion. your brows furrow and knot with an anger that has enhanced since seeing him. he tries again, this time softer with a small peck to the inner corner of your lips and you stand there dazed. sorry's are mumbled into your skin as he works his way around your face.

"am i fucking missing something?" you scowl, pulling away from him and setting a reasonable amount of distance between the two of you. the chill of the night settles in the middle especially now that the warmth of his skin is missing from yours.

he sighs, eyes apologetic. "i'm sorry baby, i got so caught up in training i couldn't leave."

"you couldn't leave?" you ask slowly and at least he has rhe decency to look bashful. "why do i get the feeling you're not telling me the truth," and if your long awaited question has caught him off guard, he fails to show it.

"why would i hide anything from you?" he looks offended, expression suddenly stiff and guarded. a million thoughts race through your head.

because i'm not marked, because i don't know the pain you've been through. because you've never told me anything about yourself. because you've ran through girls quicker than you've fallen off your dragon and gotten the chance to get back up. and somehow, you've lasted longer than them all by a whopping four months- not that you're counting.

he senses you're deep in over your head and attempts to drag you back out to the present. to where you are now, to him and you. "hey, hey, look at me," he whispers. "i got caught up training and i missed this meal with you. i'm not hiding anything from you, i'm sorry okay?" he holds your hands and stares into your soul.

"okay," its bitter on your tongue but that's what it'll have to be. it's always been this way and it will most likely always be this way because in some oddly weird way you're in love with garrick tavis- and you'll swallow a million okays if it means you'll get pieces of him to yourself, even if its never the whole.

"okay," he whispers back, eyes glinting with a cheeky grin. "now what do you say we get out of here and get some dessert?" the question is dangerous and it dangles in the air. if you're brave enough you'll let it stay there and walk away. but you act with your heart and not your head, letting him whisk you away to his bedroom where only the walls will hear how much he loves you back.

you wake up to an empty bed again and it doesn't surprise you. it doesn't anger you but waters a tree of sadness planted in your chest. you collapse back into his sheets, the smell of him is all over you right now. it's in the air, it's in your hair and on your skin, it's suffocating that you work your signet to move a fresh pair of clothes to you immediately, changing rapidly and running for a breath of fresh air.

you barrel into ridoc on the way back to your room, crashing right into his chest. "can't talk, gotta go," you rush out, back on your feet again darting for your room. the steps are outlined in your brain- it's the only thing you're sure of right now the facts. the facts are that you need to shower, scrub yourself clean, you need to eat, you need to refuel, you need to not be so fucking stupid and make the same mistakes over and over again.

"yn, wait," ridoc calls out and you love your friend you really do but right now you just need a moment to yourself.

you reach your door in an instant, re-warding the entrance as soon as its safe and head straight for the shower. the warm water sends a rush down your bare skin and you scrub away the remenants of last night. you couldn't do this anymore, you think slowly. how long were you going to keep letting him make you feel like pure shit?

but he doesn't, your heart argues. he wasn't this way with anyone else before. you've changed him, you're different, you can fix him if you hold out for a little longer. a silent sob escapes you and you catch it in your hands, holding yourself upright against the cool tiled walls. training is in half an hour and you need to be ready to face actual people. with one last rush of water over your head you reach the surface. it's going to be okay.

it must clearly be your day because when you're called to the mat it is imogen cardulo who stands opposite you. your mind falters at the sight of her and fuck, you think. she's even more gorgeous up close. you know her as a close friend of garrick, and you can count on your fingers the number of times you've been jealous of the pink haired rider who's glare could cut you in half.

you fight, and she's a touch quicker than you. she fights with the edge of someone who's been taught that if you're sharp enough she'll never get cut. and you fight with the strength of someone who constantly has something to prove. she lunges out and knocks a punch into your jaw sending you back a metre with a giant ugly bruise and you retaliate in anger, racing at her and knocking her off her feet entirely.

she grapples and turns you over, you fight for dominance and flip her back over. she's in your hair and then in your ear. "you fight well for his little past-time," and its evil the way her voice seethes and bubbles at your insides. it throws you off for a second at how smug she is and what is that you detect ... jealousy? and thats all she needs. a single second to wrap you in a chokehold and youre confronted with the decision to yield.

gone is all your shame and air from your lungs as you heave out a deep breath. she stands to her feet and brushes you off as if you were just an inconvenience, an obstacle and you roll off the mats slowly and rise to your feet with the help of ridoc.

"bitch," he mutters and you don't hear the curse slip from your friend's lips because you're too focused on anothers.

garrick tavis stands in front of imogen cardulo, his gaze assessing her intently with a certain fondness in his eyes. a fondness you notice in a heartbeat because that's how he used to look at you- or how he looked at you on those specific nights he bared his soul for you to borrow.

he looks as though he might hug her if she didn't look as though she was going to bite her, a scowl etched on to her face. she grits her teeth, says something you can't quite catch and pivots. most likely on her way to the healers.

you do however catch the end of his sentence, "i'll meet you for dinner, you need to fuel up and recharge, tomorrow we train again." and it boils your blood. you step out of ridocs hold and into his direction and garrick stops when he sees you.

as if on some weird twisted instinct he reaches out, itching to cradle your bruised jaw but you visibly flinch and recoil back in disgust.

"you're a fucking joke," you whisper at his cruelty- so that's where he's fucking been and that's who he's chosen to run to. you had been bloodied and bruised and in confirmation of one thing; garrick tavis couldn't even love you at your lowest. you'll always be a second afterthought in his mind and it pains you, especially when he stands at the centre of your universe.

"yn baby-"

"don't call me that," you growl, suddenly aware of your spine. you wince and he reaches out for you again, steadily met with your shoved step backwards. "now i know where your priorities lie and who's clearly good enough to actually be respected and included in your plans," you seethe. "don't fucking talk to me again."

you shove at his chest and he tries to grab your wrist.

"i love-"

"don't you dare finish that sentence," and you let your palm swipe right across his face. it's an act of defiance, youre a cadet who's just assaulted a section leader. the repercussions could be dangerous; yet standing in the shame of your own heartbreak was the worst of them all.

"you don't get to do that. that's not fair

you don't get to use that against me, not when you've never loved me the way i've been loving you. you know something garrick? i pity you," something in your gaze softens ever so slightly that it stills him for a second. "you can't love someone you can't trust, you can't love someone you hide, i dont think you are even capable of loving anyone but yourself," you whisper to him.

he's stunned in silence and you feel triumph rush to your aching temples. you need to get yourself to a healer and fast.

"you're both fucking idiots if you don't realise the way you are with each other and i don't think you're smart enough to realise this yet but when the time comes and you find yourself willing to love someone clearly special to you," you jerk your head in the direction of imogen, no doubt her ears are probably picking up on your conversation. "i hope you have better luck with her or better yet, i hope she runs for the fucking hills like i should have," a scoff leaves your mouth and you get ready to turn and leave.

you've said what you had to do and slowly you'll make your peace.

he reaches out again with a desperate call to your name "yn-" but its ridoc who stops him and you could kiss your best friend right now.

"let her go," his voice is firm and strong, holding the crashing waters at bay. "it's the fucking least you could do." you dont wait to see the giant shadow leave or wait to hear the pained sigh that hits the air.

you limp slowly to the healers, slow enough that ridoc catches up to you in an instant with an arm wrapped around your weighted frame.

"thank you," you whisper and he nods in comfort.

"i've got you, hun. but thank god he stopped, i was afraid he was gonna kick my ass for a second," he breathes a sigh of relief and a laugh escapes you; shooting pain straight into your ribs.

"fuck," ridoc's eyes widen. "it's okay." and for once, you actually believe that it is or at the very least, it will be.

note: i know i said no happy ending but here, have an okay ending instead. tee hee hope u love bc i love u ! 🩷

[n0vazsq]

Beginning of forever | LN4 x Reader

pairing . . . lando norris x gf!reader

summary . . . When Lando took you to celebrate christmas in a ski resort, you never expected what would have happened next

request . . . no!!

word count . . . 1.5k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . KILL ME RN I WANT THIS also ignore how i wrote this on new years eve

. . . The evening was as perfect as it could get. The ski resort in the mountains, nestled among snow covered pines, was glowing with holiday cheer.

The thick, gusts of snowflakes falling from the sky gave the entire landscape an almost ethereal quality, as if you had stepped into a snow globe.

Christmas lights twinkled in vibrant reds, greens, and golds, casting a warm glow across the darkening sky. The cozy, rustic charm of the wooden lodge and its stone fireplaces made the night feel even more magical.

It was everything you had ever dreamed of for a holiday getaway, and yet, tonight, something was different; something special was in the air.

Lando had made sure of that.

You had arrived at the resort just a few days ago, enjoying the slopes, fireside chats, and all the winter activities you loved.

Skiing together had been a blast; Lando’s teasing as he zoomed past you on the slopes, showing off his skills, and your good natured challenge of trying to keep up with him had left you both laughing breathlessly.

It had been nothing short of perfect, but the real surprise was still waiting for you.

You stepped onto the balcony of your cabin, the frosty air biting at your cheeks as you gazed out over the mountains.

The landscape looked like a painting, the distant peaks casting a serene shadow as the snow softly blanketed everything beneath them.

The lodge was just down the hill, its golden glow inviting and warm against the biting cold.

Lando’s voice broke through the calm, low and husky from behind you. "Pretty, isn’t it?"

You turned to find him standing in the doorway, his dark curls mussed by the wind and his face lit up by the soft glow of the holiday lights behind him. His eyes were fixed on you, as they always seemed to be, with that familiar warmth that made your heart race.

"It’s magical," you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth. "Almost like something out of a dream."

Lando walked toward you, a troublesome smile tugging at his lips. He reached out, his hand grazing your back, pulling you into the warmth of his embrace.

You melted into him, the heat of his body a welcome contrast to the chilly night air. His arms enveloped you, the familiar scent of his cologne comforting and grounding you in this moment.

You leaned back slightly to meet his eyes, feeling a nervous flutter in your chest. "What’s on your mind, love? You look like you’re plotting something."

Lando’s smile grew a little softer, his hands gently lifting your chin so that you were looking directly into his eyes. The twinkle in them made your pulse quicken. "Just… appreciating you. And this moment."

You felt your heart skip. His gaze was tender, but there was an intensity in his expression that took you by surprise. His fingers caressed the side of your face, and you closed your eyes for a moment, leaning into his touch.

"You’re everything to me, you know that?" His voice was barely above a whisper, but it resonated deep within your chest. "I don’t know what I’d do without you, angel."

A shiver ran down your spine as his words sank in. You loved him more than anything, but this felt different. The air around you seemed to shift, the weight of the moment heavier than it had been in the days before.

Something was about to happen, something that would change everything, and you couldn’t quite place what it was. But in that moment, you didn’t need to. All you wanted was to be here with him.

"I know, love," you murmured, pressing your forehead to his. "I feel the same way."

Lando pulled back, keeping a gentle hold on your face as he looked at you with such adoration, you thought you might collapse right there. Then, without another word, he slowly reached into his pocket, his gaze never leaving yours.

Your heart stopped.

In his hand, he held a small velvet box, its contents hidden from view but so clearly life-altering. Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t expected this; not here, not like this.

You had joked with him in the past about your 'dream proposal', but never had you imagined it would be so perfect.

He smiled softly at your stunned silence, the playful glint in his eyes shifting to something deeper, more vulnerable.

"I know we’ve only been together for a few years, angel, but from the moment I met you, I knew you were the one I was supposed to be with. You’ve made my world brighter in a way I never thought was possible. I don’t want to wait any longer to make it official. I want you by my side forever."

You were trembling, trying to breathe, trying to process his words. Tears started welling up in your eyes, but they weren’t from sadness; they were from the pure, overwhelming joy that filled your heart.

"Will you marry me, angel?" Lando asked, his voice shaking ever so slightly, as if he was nervous, though you knew better. "Will you be mine forever?"

The world seemed to pause as you stared at him, at the man who had shown you love in the most unexpected and beautiful ways.

You didn’t need to think about it, didn’t need to second guess anything. He was the one. He always had been. You had built a life together, filled with love, laughter, and a deep, unspoken understanding of each other.

Tears fell down your cheeks now, freely, but they were tears of happiness. Pure, unrestrained joy. You nodded, your voice barely escaping as you whispered, "Yes, Lando. Yes, a thousand times yes."

Lando’s face broke into a grin so wide, it almost seemed to light up the night. He opened the velvet box, revealing a stunning ring; a delicate band with a sparkling diamond that glinted in the light from the cabin behind you.

With trembling hands, he slid the ring onto your finger. The cool metal against your skin only heightened the warmth that spread through your chest.

He cupped your face in his hands once more, pulling you into a kiss that was nothing short of loving. His lips were soft against yours, but the kiss was full of everything; passion, excitement, love, and the promise of forever.

It was everything you had ever dreamed of and more. Every kiss you had shared before felt like practice for this one, and you kissed him back with all the emotion you had kept inside for so long.

Lando pulled away after a moment, his breath shallow, eyes wide with happiness. "I love you, angel," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you so much."

A sob escaped your lips as the gravity of it all finally hit you. You let out a soft laugh, tears streaming down your face. "I love you too, Lando. I’ve loved you for so long, and I will for the rest of my life."

Lando gently wiped away your tears with his thumb, his gaze filled with affection. "You’re everything to me," he murmured again, pressing his forehead to yours. "I don’t want to imagine a single day without you."

You laughed softly, still wrapped in his arms, the world around you fading away as your hearts beat in sync. "You won’t have to, love. We’re in this together."

For a moment, the only sound was the quiet snowfall around you, the occasional crunch of snow beneath your feet. Lando held you tight, and you let yourself relax in his arms, savoring the feeling of his warmth and the love you shared.

But as you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, you realized this was just the beginning.

The future stretched out ahead of you both, full of promise, full of love, and full of endless possibilities. No matter what came, you knew you’d face it together. Forever and always.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. "I’m so happy, Lando," you whispered. "I don’t think I could be happier."

"Then let’s make it even better," he said with that mischievous grin you adored so much. "Let’s have a lifetime of happy moments, starting right now."

You leaned in to kiss him again, your lips finding his as the snow continued to fall, soft and steady, covering the world in a blanket of white.

This Christmas, this moment, was everything you had ever wanted. And with Lando by your side, you knew the best was yet to come.

"I love you," you said softly against his lips, feeling the words travel deep into your soul.

"I love you more," Lando replied, his voice full of certainty.

And in that moment, as you stood together on the balcony of the snow covered cabin, with the world around you filled with holiday magic and love, you knew that this was the beginning of your forever.

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @justaf1girl (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

[sc3ptre]

Spring into summer

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader.

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

a/n: I’m back! Bear with me, I haven’t written in a long time.

Warnings: yearning lol

Genre: fluff and angst. No gendered pronous were used for the reader.

Era: Season 10

Wordcount: 1.2k

Frail rocks crumbled beneath your boots, each step landing with the weight of exhaustion as gravity pulled you mechanically towards your destination. Your body screamed in protest, muscles seizing with pain but you pressed on like a machine, only fueled by sheer will. Your mind flickered at the edges and lucidity slipped like smoke between your fingers yet your eyes stayed open, barely, eyelids held apart by the familiar trail you followed but with every step closer, sleep clawed deeper, an insistent pull that threatened your purpose.

You were still a day or two from Alexandria, fully aware that this detour will cost you but so could your state if you continued, so you walked to Oceanside. In a rare moment of calm, you closed your eyes and tilted your head toward the sky, letting the sun bathe your skin with the same warmth you hoped your weary feet would lead you to.

You inhaled deeply, letting salty air flood your lungs like a drug you were desperate to grow addicted to.

The birds chirping were so loud that they almost drowned out the sound of something emerging from the woods, a single dry branch splitting, a mistake that snapped your eyes forward as dread bloomed fast, certain that your exhaustion had finally led you to a premature death. The crossbow aimed at your heart was slowly lowered to his side, no arrow had been shot but your heart staggered all the same. As if it had just been pulled from the brink and strangely so, its beat echoed the same rhythm as his laugh once did. Perhaps you had mistaken the snap for the little breaks in your souls.

You ran, so fast you doubted your feet even touched the ground and suddenly, your chest was against his. His hands found you instantly, gripping, skimming, desperate to confirm you were real and not some cruel vision conjured by hope and misplaced grief. He pulled back just enough to see you, his striking blue eyes searched your face like they were memorizing you again. One hand stayed at your waist while the other rose, his thumb traced your cheek, soft and reverent as if you might vanish if he pressed too hard yet stared too long either way.

“Ya’ cut yer hair” He muttered, voice low and gravel-thick, just like you remembered. 

He could’ve said anything else… pointed out the new cuts on your skin, how hollow your eyes looked, how you swayed a little like you might pass out right there in his arms. Hell, he could've shoved you away and barked at you for disappearing like you expected but he didn’t. He stood there, fingers twitching with selfless devotion and eyes darting over your face like every second he got to look at you might be the last.

You let out a soft chuckle through the tears. “You didn’t yours”

“Yeah, well…m’ hair stylist quit” he sassed, the corner of his mouth twitching like he almost meant to smile. You laughed, broken but bright and he reached up, rough fingers brushing away your tears like they didn’t belong. You realized then that that was as much disappointment as you’d get from him, your rehearsed apologies now gone in the wind. No lecture, no anger, just that quiet acceptance that cut deeper than yelling ever could and a joke slipped through clenched teeth. Oh how you wished he loved you a little less sometimes.

After picking up the crossbow he had let fall to his feet, the two of you walked side by side towards Oceanside. Neither of you spoke, but you kept stealing glances at each other, uncertain if there were still lines left to cross or if two winters had buried them deep. You thought you’d tread lightly but you were dropped right where you left off. He practically snuck you in, pulling you from the small welcoming crowd with the same rude gentleness he always had. You followed, helplessly, almost instinctively, like a magnet pulled to its pair. 

The cabin he was staying in felt very much like a passing place but even so, you could still tell what was his, small signs but very familiar things. 

You stared while he rummaged in the bathroom, cursing under his breath and slamming doors in search of something.

The floor creaked beneath you as you stepped towards the bedside table, there wasn’t much on it, just a candle and an old picture of you that you felt drawn to. The edges were worn, soft from being handled but the image was clear. Kept. 

Then suddenly, it was taken from your hand. Daryl was right behind you, quiet as ever, slipping it into the inside pocket of his vest like it was some kind of secret.

“Nobody teach ya not t’ touch what ain’t yers?” he muttered.

You raised a brow at his deadpan expression, your lips twitching upwards “Excuse me?”

He scoffed, already opening the first aid kit in his hands “Mhm I forgive ya. Now sit” he said nodding toward the bed, his eyes locked on the dried blood staining the back of your shirt.

“I can do it myself.”

He hummed, low and dismissive. “Ya always could. Never changed a damn thing”

You sat cross legged on the bed, back to him, unbuttoning your shirt with quiet, shaky fingers. The fabric slipped from your shoulders and he moved in behind you, the mattress shifting under his weight. His skilled fingers hovered just above your skin, cool and hesitant and the silence between you felt like it was holding its breath.

“...Can i?” he asked, voice quieter now, stripped down to something real.

The question sent goosebumps racing across your skin, a shiver pulling through you. You’d bared yourself to him once, in more ways than one and you wondered if he knew you would again, without hesitation, if only he’d have you.

You simply nodded.

As the sting of alcohol met your skin and his rough hands softened with care, you felt the need for more pain rise. The urge to dig in, to say something sharp, something that could tear at your new wounds before they’d even had a chance to heal, to tip off a bandage that hadn’t even been placed yet.

“I’m sorry” you whispered, voice barely holding. You bit back the flood, how looking for people worth saving had dragged you farther and farther from home and how you’d let it. Your breath shook as you prepared to force the next words out but he was faster.

“For wha’?” he asked after a pause. You could feel his gaze settle on the side of your face. “Doin’ yer job?”

“You know what.”

He hummed low in his throat as he worked on the wound “Only stayed ‘cause I knew if ya saw me out there lookin’ for ya, I wouldn’t’ve heard the end of it…Wouldn’t have, if I thought ya weren’t comin’ back at all”

At that, you turned—just enough to meet his eyes. Your heart pounded so loud, so hard, you wondered if he could hear it. Hell, you wondered if he was qualified to check it. You didn’t say anything and neither did he. Your grip on the shirt at your chest loosened, arms falling slack as tears welled. Because even now, this love you both had, carried across seasons and miles, still warmed your skin more than any burning sun ever could.

[aventurineswife]

“Reqs are open and my inbox is empty‼️‼️”

Not for long. (Now I sleep, ehe.)

—I’d absolutely adore you to write a scenario for Dan Heng, Sunday, and Aventurine (Possibly Shadow if you feel real extra tonight.)

How would each character react towards their partner falling asleep against them? Whether it’s late at night, early morning, they’re simply too comfortable to keep themselves awake.. and this would dawn on our dear characters. Feeling a sense of warmth, knowing their presence brings such a high level of comfort n’ security, where we—the reader fall asleep with ease no matter where we are so long as we have them. 💙✨

Anchored in Stillness

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Comfort, Quiet Moments Softness, Vulnerability Gentle Affection, Bonding, Emotional Reflection, Introspection, Slow Burn, Established Relationship.

It was late in the quiet hours of the night, the gentle hum of the Astral Express barely audible as it sailed through the endless expanse of space. Dan Heng sat in a corner of the lounge, eyes scanning a book that had long since lost its grip on his attention. His focus, though steady and disciplined as always, was elsewhere now. The warmth of the room, combined with the soft whirring of the train, created a sense of peace he rarely afforded himself.

It was then that he felt it—soft pressure on his shoulder. His eyes drifted to his side, and he froze for a moment. There, resting against him, was you, your body relaxed in a deep, untroubled sleep. Your presence, warm and quiet, was almost a contrast to his own habitual distance. Dan Heng’s gaze softened slightly, the weight of the moment settling over him.

His lips parted, but no words came. He didn’t want to disturb you. There was something deeply comforting about this—how, even in the quietest, most vulnerable moment, you trusted him to be your anchor. He didn’t feel the need to say anything. The connection was unspoken, but it was real.

Dan Heng shifted subtly, ensuring his posture was just right so you could remain comfortable. He could feel the steady rhythm of your breathing against him, each inhale a small reassurance. It was in these moments, in the quiet stillness of the night, that he allowed himself a brief reprieve from the guilt, from the weight of the past that clung to him so tightly. Here, now, in the silence, he felt something akin to peace. He wasn’t alone—not anymore.

And as you continued to sleep soundly, his own eyes fluttered closed, the faintest trace of a sigh escaping his lips. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t running from something.

The moonlight outside cast a soft glow over the Astral Express, and the cabin was bathed in a tranquil, almost ethereal light. Sunday sat at the edge of the couch, a book forgotten in his lap. His eyes wandered to the window, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere. The gentle rhythm of the train’s movement was lulling, but it wasn’t what held his attention tonight.

It was the soft, rhythmic sound of breathing beside him. He turned, and there, curled up against his side, was you, eyes closed in peaceful slumber. Your body was relaxed, the weight of your head resting against his shoulder. For a moment, Sunday merely watched you, his eyes softening as he observed the vulnerability you showed in your sleep.

His wings fluttered slightly, as if subconsciously reacting to the warmth you exuded. He felt an unfamiliar warmth in his chest—a sense of duty, yes, but something deeper, too. A connection that went beyond his usual capacity for empathy. It was the kind of bond that, despite all his doubts and internal struggles, felt undeniably right.

He felt your presence, steady and grounding, and it soothed him in ways he couldn’t quite describe. The idea that he could be someone who provided comfort—that he could be the source of someone else’s peace—was something he had never fully embraced before. Yet, here it was, real and undeniable.

Sunday’s breath caught for a moment as he allowed himself the luxury of simply being in the moment. He was so used to thinking of others, to sacrificing for the collective good, that he often forgot how to simply be for himself. But with you here, asleep and safe, he felt a strange sense of ease. It was a quiet reassurance, like a whisper in his heart that reminded him of the small, beautiful connections that made life worth living.

His hand shifted slightly, resting over your shoulder, fingers brushing lightly against your skin. He wasn’t sure if you were aware of his touch, but it didn’t matter. The warmth between you was enough, and with a soft sigh, Sunday closed his eyes for a brief moment. There, in the stillness, he allowed himself the rare indulgence of peace.

Aventurine, ever the master of managing his surroundings, sat in his luxurious chair, surveying the quiet room with a calculated detachment. It was well into the night, and the flickering light of a candle danced across the polished surfaces of the cabin, casting long shadows on the walls. He should have been focusing on the many schemes, the next move in the game, but something about tonight felt different.

He had thought he was alone in the room, but as he shifted slightly in his chair, he felt a warmth at his side. Looking down, he saw you, your head gently resting against his shoulder, your body soft and relaxed as you drifted off to sleep. Your presence was unexpected, yet it wasn’t unwelcome.

Aventurine’s eyes narrowed slightly, the usual hint of calculation in his gaze replaced by something softer. He had never been one to let his guard down, not even for a moment, but here he was, caught off-guard by the intimacy of it all. His mind raced as he quickly calculated the right course of action—should he move? Should he speak?

But then he paused.

Your presence, your comfort, filled the space around him. The gentle rise and fall of your chest, the warmth radiating from you—it was an unexpected peace, a momentary break from the endless games of strategy he played with his life. For all his calculated risks and meticulous plans, he hadn’t anticipated something as simple as this.

He allowed himself a rare, almost imperceptible smile, his eyes flickering with a touch of vulnerability—just for a moment. His gloved hand moved almost instinctively, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle despite the harshness of his demeanor. He hadn’t realized how much he had longed for this kind of closeness, this kind of warmth.

The silence was heavy with unspoken words, the tension of his past and his ambition swirling just beneath the surface, but for now, Aventurine let it all fade into the background. Your presence grounded him, and for the first time in a long while, the thrill of the gamble didn’t feel so urgent. With a quiet sigh, he allowed his body to relax, his hand resting on the armrest of the chair as he let his thoughts drift, your warmth a silent reminder of the connection he never quite understood but desperately needed.

In the soft silence of the night, Aventurine let the game rest, just for a while.

[nana-mania]

“RETURN” a reunion bound by hearts

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ oneshot

࿐*ೃ feat : mr. crawling

࿐*ೃ fandom : homicipher

࿐*ೃ extra : fem! reader, fluff

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ THE ELEVATOR hummed, its familiar metallic doors sealed shut behind you. The path back to your old world had been a difficult one, full of trials and choices that had almost broken you.

Yet, when the moment came to leave, you had parted ways with Mr. Crawling. You had thought it was for the best. But as time passed, guilt began to fester. His haunting eyes, his strong devotion, the way he waited for you even when you offered him no promises-they lingered in your mind, gnawed at your heart.

Now, you were here again, standing in the same room where you had left him. The air was stale, the faint smell of rust and damp earth surrounding you. Shadows danced across the cracked floor, and near the base of the elevator, you saw it; a pile of objects, carefully gathered, stacked neatly. Crowbars, dozens of them, as if he had spent days-no, weeks-scavenging for things he thought you might like.

Your chest tightened at the sight. He hadn't just waited-he had hoped.

Then you saw him.

He was hunched near the corner, his long, gaunt frame bent awkwardly as if trying to make himself smaller. His claws idly traced the floor, drawing invisible patterns, but his head hung low, and the quiet shudder of his shoulders betrayed him. He was crying-silent, broken sobs that filled the space with a heart-wrenching heaviness.

"Please," he whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling. "Come back. Please, come back. Miss you."

Your breath caught in your throat. He hadn't noticed you yet, too consumed by his grief. Every word he spoke felt like a knife twisting deeper.

Then his head jerked. Disbelief flickered across his face as if you were just another cruel trick of his imagination. But when you took a step forward, his entire body tensed.

"You," he rasped. He crawled toward you with a jerky, desperate urgency, claws scraping against the floor. "You! Come back!"

Before you could say anything, he lunged forward, his long arms wrapping around you tightly. His claws pressed into your back, not enough to hurt, but enough to make it clear he wasn't letting go. His thin frame trembled against you, and then the sobs returned, louder, unrestrained.

"Missed you," he choked out between cries. "Missed you. So much. Me wait. Always wait."

You froze, overwhelmed by his vulnerability. His head pressed against your chest, and you could feel the cold wetness of his tears soaking through your shirt. Slowly, you brought your arms around him, holding him close.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice cracking. "I'm so sorry, Crawling. I should've come back sooner. I was stipid to even leave."

He pulled back just enough to look at you. "Me wait. Always wait," he repeated, his voice softer now, tinged with relief. "You back. You here. Me... happy."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded. "I missed you too," you admitted. "That's why I came back. I couldn't stay away."

His claws, cold and sharp, moved to your face, cupping your cheeks with an almost painful gentleness. His fingers trembled as though he couldn't quite believe you were real. He searched your face, and all the sadness, the longing, the desperation melted into something purer; joy.

"Me, together, you, happy," he murmured, his voice soft and hesitant, as if afraid to hope.

A smile broke through your tears, and you placed your hands over his. "Me, together, you, happy," you repeated.

You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was as much a promise as it was an apology. His claws trembled against your skin, but he kissed you back with a quiet desperation, his jagged edges softened by the depth of his love.

When you pulled away, the two of you sat together on the cold, cracked floor. Your head rested against him, his claws still clutching at you as if afraid you might vanish again. You stroked his back gently, your fingers tracing the ridges of his spindly frame.

"I'm here," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "And I'm not leaving again."

He didn't respond with words, but the way he held onto you, the way his sobs had quieted into a steady, contented silence, said everything.

You stayed there, wrapped in each other's embrace, the cold and desolate room around you fading into the background.

"You, warm," he murmured after a long pause, his voice low and filled with wonder, as though this simple fact was a revelation.

You chuckled softly, your fingers continuing to trace gentle circles on his back. "And you, freezing," you teased, though your tone was full of affection.

He shifted slightly, his claws twitching as if embarrassed. "Not want, hurt you," he mumbled. "Not want... scare."

"You're not scaring me," you reassured him, pulling back just enough to look at his face. "You never have. You, me miss, a lot."

The obvious hint of a smile tugged at his lips. It was awkward, a little crooked, but it was real. And it was for you.

"Missed you too," he said softly, almost shyly this time. "Every day. Think of you. Wait. Always wait."

Your chest ached at his honesty. You brought a hand to his face, gently brushing your thumb over his sharp, cold cheekbones. "I know," you whispered. "I should've come back sooner. But I'm here now, and I'm staying."

He tilted his head into your touch, purring like he was savoring the moment. "Me... happy, so much," he murmured again.

You shifted, leaning back against the wall and tugging him with you. He hesitated at first, unsure, but you coaxed him gently until he was nestled against your side, his long arms wrapped loosely around your waist. The way he curled into you was almost childlike, seeking comfort and reassurance.

"You even got me presents," you said, gesturing toward the pile of crowbars stacked neatly in the corner. "You didn't have to go through all that trouble."

He perked up at the mention of the collection, his head lifting from your shoulder. "Attack tool... for you," he explained eagerly, his tone suddenly more animated. "Know, you like. Good for fight. Good for fix."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, the sound warm and genuine. "You remembered," you said, reaching out to ruffle his hair gently. "You, amazing, you know that?"

His claws flexed, his face dropping shyly back to your shoulder as if he couldn't handle the praise. "Only want, you happy," he admitted, his voice muffled but heartfelt.

"You do," you said firmly, wrapping your arms tighter around him. "You make me so happy, Crawling."

He shifted, tilting his head to look at you. "Me, together, you, happy," he said again, as though testing the words on his tongue. But this time, there was no hesitation-only certainty.

You smiled, leaning to press another kiss to his forehead. "Exactly," you said softly. "Me, together, you, happy."

He made a soft, contented sound, burrowing closer to you like he never wanted to let go. And you let him. You both had all the time in the world now.

Just the two of you, together, happy.

࿐*ೃ thanks for reading this scenario! likes, interaction and reblogs are deeply appreciated ♡

[trueebeauty]

"𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎" -gun, goo, james lee.

𝐆𝐔𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊

Never in a million years would you have thought that today would be the day you see Gun so calm.

He's calm all the time when he's with you, but this one is quite different.

It was a rainy day today, and the two of you were on the couch, absentmindedly watching a movie together.

Though you were too busy cutting Gun's fingernails, all because you claimed they were getting too long.

Surprisingly, Gun actually took better care of himself than you would've thought. (Gun was offended)

His hands, although rough and calloused, were always clean, and so were his nails.

"I'm done," you muttered as you clipped off the last remaining fingernail.

Turning to face a stoic Gun, "Do you not like it shorter?" you asked, tilting your head.

"I don't care for it," Gun responded, typical.

You looked at his trimmed hands again, admiring his hands for a second as you caressed them.

Gun's fingers intertwined with yours, and he pulled you closer, "What is it?" he murmured, his voice low and gentle.

You gazed into his eyes, captivated by the tenderness you found there. "Nothing," you replied with a soft smile, “Just admiring you."

Gun's expression softened before he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "You're one to talk," he said, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. 

A shiver ran down your spine at the simple yet intimate gesture, and you found yourself leaning in closer, drawn to the warmth of his embrace. 

The movie long forgotten, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, basking in each other's presence, the soft pitter-patter of rain against the windows providing a soothing backdrop.

Tentatively, you reached up too, tracing Gun's face with your fingertips, committing everything to your memory. His eyes fluttered shut at your touch, and you admired how someone so strong and scary could also be so gentle and vulnerable in your arms.

Gun's hand found its way to the nape of your neck, his thumb caressing your jaw, and you felt yourself melting into his touch. With a featherlight tug, he guided you closer, your foreheads touching, his breath mingling with yours.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice barely audible, but you heard it.

Thinking you imagined it, you look at him in disbelief, "What?"

Gun's eyes locked with yours, and you saw a vulnerability there that you had never witnessed before. He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself, and repeated, "I love you."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a warmth bloom in your chest, spreading through your entire being. You searched Gun's face, looking for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty, but found none.

"I..." you started, your voice catching in your throat. You had dreamed of hearing those words from Gun countless times, but now that the moment was here, you found yourself at a loss for words.

Gun reached out, his calloused fingers gently caressing your cheek. "You don't have to say anything," he said softly. "I just needed you to know."

You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as a thousand emotions washed over you. Love, joy, relief, and a tiny spark of fear – fear that this might all be a dream, and you would wake up to find it was never real.

But as you opened your eyes and gazed into Gun's gaze, you knew this was no dream. This was real, and it was more beautiful than you could have ever imagined.

“I love you, too.”

“I know,” he teased, bringing your hand to his lips and planting a featherlight kiss on your hand.

𝐆𝐎𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐌

You've known Goo for basically your entire life. You grew up together, took martial arts together, graduated together, went to the same schools, studied together, walked together, shopped together, ate together, and even took baths together.

There was never a day where you two were apart... well, that was until he met this strange one-armed man.

Suddenly it became, "I'm going to be late, so eat without me."

"I can't, I have to go return something," he'd shout before closing the door.

Then he started coming home bruised, specks of blood on his clothes, a cut here and there.

"Goo, what the hell happened?"

"Ah, didn't know you were up. Just almost got robbed..."

"Robbed? By who? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a homeless man."

But one thing Goo didn't know is that you could tell when he lied - he smiled wide, too wide. You don't even know if he was aware of this tell himself, but you sure as hell were.

Even if you didn't recognize his lying smile, he was just too obvious. A homeless man? Robbed? Goo Kim? Only an idiot would believe him.

It didn't make the constant lies to your face any better. It just hurt.

Hurt knowing that he didn't trust you, didn't confide in you, left you behind for who knows what shady business. 

And he acted as if everything was normal.

You had reached your limit.

After an awkward silence, you finally spoke up. "Aren't you going to tell me what's wrong?" Goo said, frustration evident in his voice.

"I-I didn't actually expect you to come," you admitted nervously.

"What do you mean? You said you were in danger–" Goo paused, realization dawning on him. "Oh."

"Yep. Now that you're here, we need to talk about a lot of things— where are you going?" you asked, seeing Goo head towards the door.

"Out," he replied curtly, reaching for the doorknob.

You immediately blocked the door. "Out where?"

"Out to get some air," Goo said dismissively, trying to downplay the situation.

"We're not done here. You can't just show up and then leave."

Goo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I’m late."

"Late for what?" you insisted, your voice rising.

Seeing Goo go silent, you continued, "You’ve been like this for months now. I waited for you to explain, but you never did."

Goo opened his mouth to respond, but you kept talking, the words tumbling out rapidly. “So tell me what is going on right now, or I swear I will–”

Before you could continue, Goo stepped closer and gently placed his finger over your lips, hushing you. His eyes locked with yours, and you fell silent.

“Or you will what?” Goo asked.

You slapped his arm away. “I’ll do something really bad,” you said.

Goo rolled his eyes. “Like what?”

As soon as he said that, he felt a burning pain between his legs and collapsed to the ground, breathless and numb.

“That,” you said, a smile on your face.

“Owww,” Goo whined, starting his dramatics.

Rolling your eyes, you sat on the floor next to him, side-eyeing him as he rolled around. Having enough, you grabbed his hair and made him face you. “Tell me,” you said.

"I love you."

You froze, heart pounding at Goo's confession. He took the moment to gently remove your grip and pull you down to lay beside him, never letting go of your hand.

Your hand trembled in his grasp.

"I want to tell you everything, but it's dangerous. I don't want them to find out about you," Goo continued, his voice calm.

"W-who's them?" you asked hesitantly, anxiety creeping in.

"Bad people," he replied vaguely.

"Who are the bad people?" you pressed.

"Evil people," Goo said simply.

Rolling your eyes, you turned to face him, your noses almost touching. "You're being very vague."

A small smile played across his lips. "I want to be."

You frowned. "So you'll never tell me the full truth?"

"I will, just not right now. It's better if you can enjoy your life without this weighing on you," he said, tenderly brushing a stray hair from your face.

"And what about you? Will you be able to enjoy your life?" The thought of Goo suffering alone made your chest ache.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine," he assured you, though his eyes betrayed a hint of sadness.

"That just makes me worry more," you confessed, holding his gaze imploringly.

Goo let out a soft sigh. "I'm sorry, truly. I hate keeping things from you..."

You both laid there in silence for a few moments as Goo's thumb gently caressed the back of your hand, a tender gesture that didn't quite ease the ache in your heart.

Finally, you took a deep breath and met his gaze again. "I don't like this, keeping secrets from each other," you said quietly but firmly.

"Doesn't feel right after everything we've been through together."

"Believe me, I hate it too. More than anything, I want to be fully open with you." He brought your entwined hands up, pressing his lips to your knuckles.

"But some truths are better left unsaid, at least for now, to keep you safe."

You opened your mouth to protest, but he gently shushed you again. "I'm not in any immediate danger, I promise. This is more about protecting your peace of mind."

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you reluctantly nodded. As much as it pained you, you knew you had to trust Goo's judgment on this.

"Just...promise me one thing?" you asked, your eyes pleading.

"Anything," he replied without hesitation.

"Don't shut me out completely," you said, your voice wavering slightly. "I need you, even if I can't know every detail right now. We're partners, right?"

Goo's features softened, and he leaned in to rest his forehead against yours. "Always, I'm not going anywhere. I'll tell you what I can."

It wasn't a perfect solution, but for now, it would have to be enough. You nuzzled closer, letting the solidity of his embrace ease your worries, if only temporarily.

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐄

You sat on the balcony's doorstep, watching the storm and pretty city lights. The rain pattered against the concrete, and flashes of lightning illuminated the skyline, casting a glow over the buildings. 

You enjoyed the quietness and peacefulness, but you felt empty inside, a hollowness that couldn't be filled by the beauty surrounding you.

As the wind picked up, sending a chill through your body, you gazed out into the night, lost in thought. Suddenly, you felt the warmth of a blanket being draped over your shoulders. 

Before you had a chance to turn around, a familiar figure sat behind you, their arms encircling you, holding you close. All at once, you felt a comforting warmth envelop you, and you knew exactly who it was.

In that moment, the emptiness disappeared, replaced by a sense of contentment and belonging. 

You leaned back into his embrace, letting the sound of his steady breathing and the rain calm you, "When did you get home?" you whispered, savoring the warmth of his body against yours.

You felt him move, his lips brushing against the crook of your neck as he placed a tender kiss there. "A few seconds ago, I was looking for you," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

Melting into his arms, you sighed contentedly. "I didn't hear you," you admitted.

He chuckled softly, the vibration resonating through his chest and into your back. "You seemed lost in thought," he said, tightening his hold on you ever so slightly. "What's on your mind?"

Turning your head, you met his gaze, those eyes that always seemed to peer straight into your soul. "Nothing in particular," you replied, offering him a small smile. "Just enjoying the view."

His thumb traced gentle circles on your arm as he studied your face, a tender expression on his own. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" he said, his tone laced with concern.

Nodding, you leaned in and brushed your lips against his, a soft, reassuring kiss. "I know," you whispered, feeling the weight of the world lift from your shoulders in his presence.  

He pulled you closer, his arms a comforting anchor, and asked, "Have you eaten anything today?"

A chuckle escaped your lips at his concern. "I should be asking you that. I know they don't really care about anything other than if you're pretty and scandal-free," you teased lightly as you flicked his pink hair in his face.

Shaking his head with a laugh, he pressed a kiss to your temple. "You know me too well," he murmured against your skin. "But I'm more worried about you. You tend to forget about taking care of yourself when you get lost in that beautiful mind of yours."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but couldn't deny the truth in his words. "Alright, alright, you've caught me," you conceded, turning in his embrace to face him properly. "I may have skipped a meal or two today, but only because I was so absorbed in my writing."

His brow furrowed in that adorable way it did when he was concerned for you, and you reached up to smooth away the crease with your fingertips. "Promise me you'll eat something soon?" he urged, capturing your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

Gazing into his eyes, you were struck once again by the depth of his love and devotion, you didn’t know how you got so lucky. "Only if you promise to do the same," you countered with a soft smile. "Deal?"

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he returned your smile, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. "Deal," he agreed, sealing the promise with a tender kiss that made your heart flutter.

You both pulled away from the kiss, slightly dazed and breathless. As you gazed into his eyes, filled with so much adoration, the words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them. 

"I love you, James."

A look of surprise flashed across his face for the briefest of moments before melting into an expression of pure joy. 

His eyes crinkled at the corners as a smile spread across his lips. "And I love you," he murmured, cradling your face in his hands. 

Leaning his forehead against yours, he let out a contented sigh, “More than you could ever imagine."

[coralquill]

Garlic–y

synopsis: you're worried your garlic breath would deter Rafayel away, but he could care less, wanting your kisses anyway.

pairings: rafayel x reader

contents: fluff, comedy, garlic breath lol || wc.766

a/n: haha this one's a self-indulgent piece. ive always wondered how'd a partner react to this, and frankly, I believe rafayel wouldn't care. and he'd expect the same from you. its just garlic is so delicious sigh

You were lying down on the cool floor of the art studio, arms raised up as you held your phone above your head, scrolling away.

Rafayel was sitting next to you, his back touching your side as he hunched over a painting. The windows were open, inviting in the gentle winds of the seaside shores. The sunlight cascaded in, enveloping the studio with the warmth of summer, and you and Rafayel basked in the afterglow of the afternoon, peacefully enjoying each other's company.

Hours had passed, and quiet hums were shared between you and Rafayel until he abruptly stopped and started to squirm uncomfortably. His hand dropped the paintbrush and reached for a spot on his back to scratch away an itch but couldn’t quite reach it. Noticing his movements, you sacrificed a hand to scratch at where Rafayel was aiming to reach.

"Ahh, just like that," he sighed contentedly once your nails came in contact with the itch.

"Is it gone?" you asked, fingers coming to a slow halt as you looked at the back of his head.

"Yeah!" He peered at you from over his shoulder with a smile on his face. He then shifted in his place, now fully facing you. "As a thank you, I'm gonna give you a kiss, cutie!"

Rafayel puckered his lips, leaning towards you. He came close to where your face was, excitedly anticipating his lips to land on yours. Though it never came.

Your hand had intercepted his kiss.

Rafayel lifted himself up, leaning on his arm to support himself as he shook his head in question, confused as to why you had rejected the landing of his kiss.

"Oh, um, I had garlic sauce for lunch," you chuckled sheepishly, shrugging one shoulder. "I washed my mouth multiple times, but it's not going away." You kept your hand on your mouth still as Rafayel was close to you, fearing he could smell your breath.

"And that's supposed to deter me?" With an unimpressed look, Rafayel grabbed your hand and gently pulled it away. He then leaned in again to go for the kiss. "I'll always demand kisses from you, no matter what," he whispered centimeters away from your lips, before fully closing in on them.

The kiss was soft and sweet, and you felt all the love Rafayel had poured into it. He slowly pulled away with a soft-sounding smooch as his lips parted from yours.

A gentle smile on his lips and a loving gaze meeting yours. You were hoping to have another kiss, and Rafayel leaned in again, as if hearing your silent wants. Though this time, his lips were hovering centimeters away from your nose.

"Puhhh..." Rafayel puffed out a breath of air right at your nose and grinned. You scrunched up your face.

"Ugh, now you've had garlic by association." Your eyebrows furrowed and lips puckered playfully. Rafayel laughed at your cute little expression before going back for a real kiss this time. Though it didn't land on the first try either.

You had rolled away from under him, and Rafayel almost kissed the floor.

"Ew, no, your breath smells garlic-y. I'm not gonna kiss you!" You stuck out your tongue teasingly as you stood up, readying yourself for a chase you knew Rafayel would take on.

"You—!" Rafayel stared at you incredulously before pouncing to catch you, and you ran off the moment he lifted himself off the ground. How dare you!

Laughter and quick, rapid footsteps echoed down the hallways and off the walls of the studio—walls lined with art and masterpieces of paint. Yet none of them amounted to the one thing Rafayel held dear to him: you. You and the love you had bestowed on him, and he was, oh, so grateful for.

You spared a glance back over your shoulder, seeing that Rafayel was still chasing after you as you headed to his room. You threw yourself onto the bed, bouncing a little as giggles never seemed to stop bubbling from you. And Rafayel finally seized his chance to catch you. He leapt.

He trapped you between his arms and legs as you laid beneath him, giggling. "Got you," Rafayel whispered in your ear before he attacked your face with kisses. He lovingly smothered your nose and cheeks and chin with kisses before closing in on your lips to lay his final kiss.

To him, there was no art more precious than the art of love—and what was wrong with adding a little bit of garlic to spice things up between you and him!

likes and reblogs will always be appreciated ♡ let me know what you think!

— set sail for more tales, sailor: ⚲masterlist

— until next tide, thanks for docking by ｡𖦹°‧𓇼

© coralquill 2025 – do not copy, steal, or translate my work.

[rubiehart]

bluecollar!jj surprises you with a kitten…

summary: jj knows you’ve been a little down lately and he knows exactly what’ll cheer you up…

warnings: happy tears!! mentions of baby blues (not quite ppd), cute fluffiness with an emotional momma.

blurbs n’ other thoughts for this pairing found here!

it was a spontaneous thing, much like every other choice jj made, but it had been a long time coming considering you’d occasionally teased the idea of adding a new little addition to your family, a puppy or a kitten or even a guinea pig since you’d first gotten together - a pipe dream back then, as a couple of dirt poor 17 year old pogues, but not so much anymore.

youd had the baby blues real bad for the past few weeks - emotional and prone to tears at pretty much anything, juggling a three year old and a seven month old alone proving difficult whilst jj was away at work, so it wasn’t like you didn’t deserve a little something to cheer you up, and also because jj couldn’t stand seeing those teary eyes one more day.

he’d stopped off at some little rescue shelter on his way home from work, scoured the assortments of sweet fur babies, all gazing up at him with these big eyes and if he could he’d have taken all of them home, you’d probably love that. you always were a sweetheart like that, an angel to any and every animal.

but when his eyes landed on that little kitten - cowered in the corner of his little pen, isolated from the rest of his litter who were jostling and pawing at their mama, looking up at jj with big blue eyes, little scraps of hay stuck to his snow white fur.. jj knew. that’s the one.

when he gets home, it’s quiet. he presses the front door closed with his shoulder, it clicks softly in the latch, the scent of laundry detergent and lavender fills his nose, his body buzzing with excitement as he toes off his boots, trying to be as quiet as he can be, plastic wrapping of the bouquet he’d bought rustling where they’re tucked under his arm, kitty wriggling and meowing softly, so tiny he could be held in jj’s one hand.

he calls your name softly down the hallway, aware of the sleeping kiddos, floorboards creaking under his socked feet as he moves further into the house. “where you at, momma? you awake?”

“yea, comin’.” your voice comes soft from down the hallway, flat with that low bubbling sadness that seems to linger lately, it pulls on his heart strings just as the bedroom door opens, soft lamp light bleeding into the otherwise dark hallway.

your cotton nightgown swishes around your thighs as you pad softly towards him, eyes not registering exactly what you’re seeing through your sleepy haze.

he’s grinning all excited, lifting his hand gently as if to emphasise the little wriggling ball of fur as your eyes widen, hands clasping around your mouth in shock.

you sorta stand there for a second, not quite believing it and it doesn’t take long before the tears are flowing, moving quickly towards jj, eyes on the little kitten, snow white fur rippling as it wriggles in jj’s gentle grip.

“j… you didn’t.” when you finally speak it’s shaky and breathy, tears flowing down your flushed cheeks as you reach for the little kitty, hands shaky, jj gently supporting it’s small body as it cuddles up against your chest with a soft purr.

“what’dya think, huh?” he asks softly, breathy laughter in his tone at how sweetly emotional you’re getting, cradling the sweet kitty in your arms, kissing its furry head gently, nose burrowing into the softness. “you love ‘er? she ain’t gotta name yet, she’s all yours to name…”

“she’s really mine..? you promise?” you ask softly, looking up at him with teary eyes, socked feet shuffling against the floor, not knowing what to say or how to thank him, sniffling softly as he nods, eyes gentle.

“all yours momma, we got enough stuff for tonight but we can go shoppin’ tomorrow, get her some nice food.. lady said she likes all canned tuna n’ stuff, some toys… whatever you want.” he murmurs quietly, cautious of your soft cries and watery eyes incase they were to wake the kids, leading you gently by the small of your back to sit down on the couch, pulling you into his lap, back to his chest, lips pressing to your bare shoulder, breathing you in as you hold your kitty close, and it’s looking like you’re never gonna put her down, already attached at the hip to the snowy furred angel.

“love her so much.. thank you, j… love her n’ love you…” you shift a little to kiss him, soft and gentle, sweet like honey on your tongue, his hard calloused hands gentle on your soft jaw when you pull away, swiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb as he murmurs softly, looking into your soft, so much more than grateful eyes.

“love you more. anythin’ for you’, m’girl.”