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birdofwildness · 17 days ago

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⋆°·☁︎Dreambound part 1

⋆°·☁︎Morpheus x underworld princess!reader

Summary::Morpheus mourns his son.But grief has a price, and the gods of the Underworld have come to collect.Now you’re both stuck in a marriage.

Warnings:: grief, arranged marriage,mentions of blood,parent-child trauma,the reader will be a bit of a brat sometimes-so she may be a bit unlikeable-but she's the daughter of Hades so...

He had known somewhere deep inside, that it might come to this. Still, the knowing did nothing to soften his pain.

Morpheus had to take his sons life.

Not out of wrath, nor pride, but out of something colder, older, and infinitely more painful. Mercy. Orpheus had lived for centuries, as severed head through time,stuck in a half-life that had long ceased to resemble anything sacred. There was no peace in such existence. No dignity. No glory in this.

And so, he did what no father should ever have to do. He ended his life.

Now, the Dreaming felt quieter than it had in millennia. But it wasn't the kind of silence, that felt comforting. No,it felt dangerous.

He had imagined, foolishly, that he might feel relief. That, in releasing Orpheus, he might also release himself. He had never truly imagined an eternity without his son, and now that eternity was all that was left.

He was a king, a cosmic force, a sovereign of stories and sleep.And still, he mourned like man.

When he reached his chamber, he didn’t quite know what he was looking for. Yet his hands trembled still, stained with a dark warmth. The blood of his son, lingering stubbornly on his skin.

He approached the basin where the water glimmered faintly under the pale light. Leaning over, he let the cold liqiud wash over his fingers. The first touch was shockingly frigid, sharp and cruel, yet somehow liberating. He tried to wash away the blood, the memories, the crushing guilt. But the more he scrubbed, the more he realised,it wouldn't help his problems. It was just water. It couldn't wash away his sins.

His reflection stared back at him from the mirror — a face barely recognizable. No longer the sovereign of dreams, but a man consumed by grief and solitude. In his eyes burned no royal fire, only an endless mourning and the ache of a void that no eternity could fill. Storm clouds gathered behind his thoughts, fierce and relentless — shadows flickering, as if death itself had settled within his soul.

He tried to steady himself, to summon strength, but the weight of pain was suffocating. As the water wrapped around his hands, so did despair coil tightly around his heart. The king who had shaped dreams, who had ruled over all slumber, was fragile now — a child undone by the loss of his world.

And then came the breath — soft, trembling — a sigh that cracked open into a broken, aching sob. A grief held back for centuries spilled free at last. No more masks. No more pretending. No more hiding the unbearable hurt.

There, beside the cold basin, with blood still staining his hands, Morpheus let go of his armor and stood naked in sorrow — a father who had lost his son.

For a long while, Morpheus remained there — his shoulders shaking in quiet sobs, the weight of centuries of grief breaking through the kingly façade. No one would see this moment; no realm but his own bore witness to such raw vulnerability. The tears fell freely now, unburdening a heart that had been locked tight for too long.

Slowly, the sobs quieted. He wiped his eyes with the back of a trembling hand and looked once more into the water — still rippling softly in the basin. He knew this mourning would never fully end, but he forced himself to rise, to gather the scattered pieces of his fractured soul. For now, he would hold the line.

...

The morning light filtered softly through the ever-shifting veils of the Dreaming, casting gentle shadows that danced like whispers across the vast expanse of Morpheus’s realm. The air was thick with the lingering silence of yesterday’s grief, yet the world itself carried on — dreams waited to be woven, stories begged to be told.

In the heart of his domain, Morpheus stood before his sprawling, ethereal desk — a surface alive with shimmering strands of unfinished dreams, fragments of forgotten memories, and the faint glow of restless thoughts. His fingers traced absentmindedly over the intricate patterns as he tried to focus, to anchor himself in the weight of responsibility that refused to waver, no matter the storm within.

A soft, deliberate knock at the doorframe broke the quiet. Lucienne stepped inside, her presence calm but tinged with urgency. Her usual composed gaze flickered briefly, betraying a tension she seldom showed.

“My lord,” she said quietly, “the envoys from the Underworld have arrived in the courtyard. They come bearing a message from Hades and Persephone.”

Morpheus’s eyes lifted from the glowing threads beneath his fingertips. The shadows around his gaze deepened, and a flicker of old, unresolved pain passed over his face.

“The Underworld,” he murmured, as if tasting the word with bitter memory. “After all that has happened... what do they want now?”

Lucienne met his gaze steadily. “They seek an audience with you, bearing word from their rulers. Their message concerns your recent actions — and the delicate balance between our realms.”

Morpheus exhaled slowly, the sound like wind stirring dry leaves. His voice remained calm and measured, but beneath the surface, his heart quickened, sensing the tightening noose of consequence and diplomacy.

“Very well,” he said, voice steady but heavy. “Send them in. I will hear what the envoys of the Underworld have to say.”

Lucienne bowed, then turned and left without another word. A long, humming silence followed, as if the Dreaming itself grew still in anticipation.

The great doors creaked open moments later — They entered side by side.

First came Minos — tall, solemn, draped in bronze and black. His presence was gravity itself, as if the weight of law walked on two feet. Ancient patterns marked his cloak: spirals, labyrinths, and scales of judgment. His eyes were dim, but focused.

Beside him moved Mormo. Her form was less tangible — trailing robes of shadow, face half-obscured by a dark veil that shimmered like smoke on water. Whispers seemed to ripple around her, though no lips moved. Wherever she stepped, the air turned colder, dreamstuff curled away.

They approached the base of the throne, and stopped in perfect synchrony.

Minos inclined his head, not quite a bow. “Dream of the Endless. King of Dreams. We come bearing the will of the Dead.”

“Then speak it.” spoke the sovereign.

“The death of your son, Orpheus, has been felt in more realms than one. His sentence long delayed, his pain long endured. But his death… has torn open questions.” he continued.

“Justice was served,” Morpheus answered, voice low. “In the only way it could be.”

Mormo stirred slightly, the faintest hum trailing her voice. “Perhaps. But our monarchs do think differently, Your majesty. Orpheus has disturbed their peace the moment he arrived. Disturbed the kingdom. Made the furies weep.And lastly he didn't trust the will of gods and turned towards the light,losing his lover forever.”

Morpheus stood unmoving.His eyes, fathomless as the void, remained fixed on Mormo—but something behind them shifted. A flicker of grief.

“And so they demand... what? Recompense? A symbolic sacrifice?”

“They demand balance. You, Dream of the Endless, fractured the natural order by killing him. That crack cannot remain unsealed.” spoke Minos.

Morpheus’ voice darkened. “I gave my son peace. A well deserved peace after everything.”

Mormo replied softly, “We understand your suffering. However it was a peace he did not deserve,even centuries of suffering”

She let the words sink in then continued.“Orpheus denied divine will. He brought chaos to the gates of the dead. Mercy… cannot erase rebellion.”

Morpheus didn’t flinch. But his silence thickened.His presence was vast, but still.

Minos took one step forward, his voice even and absolute.“There must be balance. The underworld does not seek vengeance, Dreamlord. But the scales must be realigned.”

“How?” Morpheus asked. The word was low, but it rang through the chamber.

“Through union. A bond between realms.” answered the envoy.

Morpheus turned slowly. “You speak of a pact.”

“A marriage.” added Mormo.“Their Majesties—Hades and Persephone—have chosen their only living daughter. She will be sent to you in three days. You will wed her under the laws of old.”

Morpheus's eyes narrowed. Shadows bent subtly toward him, pulled by thought alone.“And if I refuse?”

“Then the Dreaming shall fall under sanction. Death will leak into your realm." threatened Minos.

“And should the Dreaming begin to die… the waking world shall follow.” added Mormo.

The words hung in the air.Finally, Morpheus looked up, voice colder than the stars.“I do not agree with this judgment. But I understand it.”

Minos inclined his head. “Three days, Dream of the Endless.”

With that, they turned — and the moment they crossed the threshold, the light in the chamber returned, subtly warmer, as though the Dreaming itself exhaled once the shadows were gone.But Morpheus remained still.

The silence settled around him.The echo of the Underworld envoys’ words lingered in the chamber.They had left, and yet their decree still pulsed in the air.

A marriage.A binding union to ensure cosmic balance.

He had seen empires fall, lovers fade, and even hope crack like glass beneath his heel. And now, after all he had lost—his son, his purpose, the fragile belief that he could remain untouched by the chaos of gods—they would dare to shackle him to diplomacy disguised as devotion.

His jaw tightened. His hands were still, clasped behind him, but his mind stirred.

Did they think he would refuse? That he would rise in fury and tear through the pact with pride alone? They knew him too well—or not at all. Dream had never been one to act rashly, not even when the pain was fresh.

This was not about love. Nor even about alliance.This was penance—his, Orpheus’, the world’s.And peace, fragile and conditional, was a price worth more than his own discomfort.

Still, he could not help the bitter taste in his throat. The very idea of a stranger—gods, a daughter of Hades—bound to him not by choice, but decree.It went against everything he once believed love could be.

He lifted his gaze to the stained-glass skylight above, the light fracturing against the dream-sky.And still, the Dreaming listened—always.It, too, did not yet know what to make of this new thread in its master's fate.

...

You had heard many ridiculous things in your life — a river that sings, a man made of bees, a talking skull with a god complex — but this?

This was a new kind of absurd.

You stared at the messenger as if they’d grown a second head. Or maybe a third. Hades did have some eccentric staff.

“So let me get this straight,” you said, voice calm, dangerously calm — the kind of calm that made rivers hesitate to ripple. “My parents are marrying me off to the Lord of Dreams... because his dead son made too much noise on his way down?”

The silence that followed was telling. No one corrected you.

You raised a brow. “Right. Just making sure I didn’t mishear ‘diplomatic union’ for ‘cosmic guilt sacrifice.’ Happens all the time.”

You turned away from the dim corridor, folding your arms as your back hit the cold obsidian wall behind you. The Underworld always had a flair for the dramatic, but even this felt excessive.

Marriage. To someone you’d never met.To someone known more for silence than warmth.To someone whose very name carried the weight of endless sleep.

"Let me guess," you muttered to no one in particular. "Tall, brooding, emotionally unavailable. Sounds like a dream."

You hated being told what to do. You hated obedience, most of all when it was dressed up as duty.

And yet... this wasn’t just about you. It was about the realms, about balance, about ancient pacts and older wounds. You knew the rules. You’d played this game before. You could play it again.

You had known your whole life that love was a currency. Loyalty a contract. And freedom? A luxury reserved for the powerful.But still… a part of you had hoped that maybe, just once, you’d get to choose.

But here you were—another piece in someone else’s game. A bargaining chip between gods and kings.

You straightened slowly, letting out a long breath.The mask slid back into place with ease.

You pushed off the wall and walked away.Head held high.Smile sharp enough to cut a god.

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #sandman x reader #sandman season 2 #dividers by enchanthings #enchanthings

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rjunhuang · 4 months ago

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how the harry potter boys would react to you hooking up with someone else.

featuring: harry potter, ron weasley, draco malfoy, fred weasley, george weasley. part two.

warnings: lowercase intended. gender neutral reader. informal writing?? they're a bit toxic.

note: can you believe i wrote this in 2023? it was an unfinished draft featuring more characters. i might make a part two w them included. also i do NOT like draco lol so i'm a little biased when i write him. honestly send in some requests on what other prompts you'd like to see w them

divider by enchanthings | comments & reblogs are appreciated! <3

harry! he'd highkey be so salty about it. at first, he's just completely off put and hurt by the thought of you going out with someone else. HE THOUGHT Y'ALL HAD SOMETHING GOING ON </3

his literal initial reaction would be, "oh.. montague, huh.. hm uh.." before walking away from the conversation all together.

if you're a dumbass, you'd assumed he's just incredibly awkward when it came to hearing about other people's relationships, but supportive nonetheless. oh, you're wrong though. he walked off because he had no idea whether to be angry at himself for not pulling any sooner or at you for choosing someone slimey as graham montague to swap spit with or maybe just montague himself.

the longer this fling lasted, the more comfortable harry would be about expressing his distaste on the whole relationship. he'd given you lectures about how you shouldn't like those type of slytherins. you'd probably lost track on how many times he had indirectly called montague ugly.

he would visibly show attitude whenever montague interrupted a conversation between you two. eye rolled and scowled like crazy, but he doesn't want to step the line as he's just seen as a friend by you —

"hey, mate, can't you see i'm trying to have a chat with her?"

he'd have dreams about hexing the shit out of graham though. maybe he'd slyly done it in the middle of class when no one's looking too.

if you accuse harry of doing so, he'd simply just shrug, "don't look at me." but would add a silent, "he had it coming though."

it's like a silent warfare between him and montague soon enough. both of them would be throwing attitude around when you're lowkey oblivious to it all. harry won, obviously, and this would be the breaking point - montague had enough of dealing with harry so he'd just ended things with you. of course, harry's going to comfort you if you do get sad about it —

"i just don't know why he'd do this out of nowhere." you sulk under the hold of harry, both sitting on an empty hallway's staircase. harry has his arm wrapped around you, rubbing your shoulder. "yeah, wonder why.."

he'd had a massive ego boost knowing he was the reason graham montague won't go near you anymore. literally would have to hide his smirk the entire time when comforting you. but he wouldn't be harry potter if he wasn't ending it with a snarky comment. he's not sure whether you'd slap or kiss him for it, but he surely wouldn't mind it being both.

once you and harry finally ended up together, the thought of montague wouldn't even cross his mind. he wouldn't care less about some random troll-looking fool. probably didn't even notice the dirty looks from montague because his eyes are on you. you had his undivided attention.

ron! he'd thought it's some sick, twisted joke. you'd told him the news that you're hooking up with cormac and just watched ron's face morph from being mortified to plain old disgusted. regarding situations like these, i think ron is a bit emotionally immature so he definitely wouldn't react well.

it had been saturday morning and almost everyone fifth year and above were recovering from a wild friday night common room party. that was the first night you hooked up with mclaggen and this morning, on the way to the great hall, he had pulled you aside to suggest making it a common occurrence — "some fun, no need for any strings attached." were his words. you had brought this up in the table during breakfast when hermione pointed out your flushed expression. the news leaves everyone shocked, but most especially ron. hermione had opened her mouth to begin reasoning with you, "i don't thin—" "THAT'S DISGUSTING!" ron wouldn't even beat around the bush, cutting off hermione. his mouth would be full with scrambled eggs and toast since he had stopped bothering to chew the moment you mentioned the word 'hooked up'. you'd mutter back a petty, "bold coming from the git with his mouth full." obviously hurt by his words.

it only worsened from that point onwards. the beautiful friendship you had with ron would crumble in a matter of time. it's constant fights with you two, ron's almost waiting for a reason to scowl or scoff whenever you're around. good luck even mentioning cormac in front of him, he'd just burst. the jealousy was so undeniably obvious yet you'd be so caught up in the anger of all of it to even realise. had it been someone less athletic than cormac, ron would've jumped him the moment he found out.

he'd be a petty little bitch but all the dramatics are to hide his insecurity. of course you'd chosen the conventionally attractive hunk over him. he'd be pretty rough on himself because of it; it's pure heartbreak for him. he'd never admit it but he's cried once or twice after storming off from a fight with you.

the end of your friendship with him would be in a final argument. merlin knows how it started, you never do. but almost a month into your fling with mclaggen, you've grown tired of ron's immaturity. so this time, you ask him.

"why are you even so pressed about this?!" you'd shout to ron. to which he'd counter with, "because he's a dim-witted fool who's only going to hurt you!" the frustration was unbearable as you lick your dry lips, raking a hand through your messy locks. ron is standing opposite to you, chest heaving from the intensity of the situation, yet he shamelessly takes a glance at your lips. "then if you're such an expert at this, tell me who i deserve to be wit—" ron must have a knack for interrupting others because he pulls you into a kiss, frowning as he does so. it's his final desperation for you to just hear him out. and you do, you kiss back and you're hit with the original passion you've always felt for him that these fights had blinded from you.

it's the end of your friendship and the beginning of a romance.

draco! draco's love language is definitely cliche bullying. without a doubt, he doesn't know how to show affection to anyone at all so you two would definitely be enemies of some sort. i think he'd lowkey be oblivious to the fact that he's straight up mean to you but you've literally had enough of it. you'd had a crush on him since your first year together probably and eventually you caught his eye as well — except for all the wrong reasons. he grew a knack for constantly belittling you in some kind of way even remotely possible to him. though, in his eyes, he always saw it as flirting and you being into all of it. you accepted the attention for what it was and grew to expect his taunts during classes. shamelessly, you did enjoy the fights the two of you shared. however, 'banter' could only last for so long and you eventually grew insecure of the words spat from malfoy. your friends encouraged you to move on and you finally decided to take their word. you supposed you had a type for slytherins, seeing how harper soon enough came into your life. he was a good distraction from malfoy to the point that even the (apparently natural) platinum blond took notice of your distancing. you stopped countering draco's remarks with snarky quips nor did you even bother to spare a glance at him anymore. draco hated the feeling he failed to recognise as heartbreak. he was so caught up in this feeling that he ordered crabbe and goyle to snoop around and find out what changed about your life. it didn't take much investigating to discover the budding romance between you and harper. draco was far more distraught than he thought he'd ever been about the news - but what malfoy's goons failed to communicate was that you and harper were barely anything serious.

despite that, draco was consumed by emotion. his immediate reaction after his minions left his dorm room was to owl his father with a letter demanding to expel harper from hogwarts. lucius' response, though, was an eerily formal letter telling his pissbaby of a son to never waste his time with such nonsense again. in other words, his father had completely shrugged him off. thus, draco hopped onto the plan b — which was to gang up on harper with his goons. draco liked to claim no one is on his level enough to be his friend, however, he had grown to like harper before this situation arose. they both shared interests in quidditch and shaming others of their blood status.

soon enough, he had been on harper's case, constantly mocking the other slytherin boy whenever draco found the chance. it was no secret draco had a superiority complex over the fact that harper was the reserve seeker on the slytherin quidditch team whilst draco himself was the main seeker — so this became draco's number one target towards harper.

"your girl couldn't get the real thing so she opted for the knock off instead, yeah?" draco would sneer, adrenaline pumping from the audience that had surrounded him as he insults harper. he tosses a few kicks at the fallen over boy before crabbe and goyle take over with more aggressive ones. he'd snicker at the sight of the dishevelled harper, adding one more comment before walking away, "don't worry, she'll be running back to me soon enough."

fred! if you think fred weasley's demeanor would even remotely falter at the news of you hooking up with someone else, you are wrong. even the fact that the special guy was viktor fricking krum wouldn't be able to stop the ginger from continuing to shamelessly flirt with you. fred's mindset was the literal definition of 'never back down, never give up'. he was not going to let you go simply because krum was snogging you on the sides.

it's lunchtime on a wednesday where majority of hogwarts is present in the great hall, along with the selected students of beauxbatons and durmstrang. you were seated next hermione granger at her designated house table, discussing the slight change in the structures of the upcoming exams. so deep in your conversation with the girl, you had somehow failed to notice the presence of the infamous weasley twins with lee jordan right by their side — obviously. fred is the one to interact with you the most whilst the other two gryffindor boys do their own thing. the older twin's hand is pressed down on the table, leaning his whole body weight against it as he hovers over you. you notice a peculiar shadow cast beside you and turn your right, immediately being greeted with a wickedly grinning weasley. you can't help but notice the veins and slight muscle peeking through his rolled up sleeve from his dominant arm being supported by his weight. hermione, having read the room, turns around, joining a conversation with neville longbottom and ron weasley. "hey, love." fred spoke up, almost purposively being loud enough for others around to take a quick glance. you tense up at the publicly proclaimed nickname, and though you have heard it leave his mouth several times before, this time there is a bulgarian national quidditch player who might just overhear. it doesn't take more than a second for you to spot viktor, who's looking right to your direction, obviously having heard and seen fred. the muscle in krum's tense jaw twitches as he sharply watches the two of you, while on the other hand, fred's gaze on you hasn't budged. in fact, he lifts his left arm up, fixing the position of your head to face him with the grasp on your jaw. "eyes up here, angel." he instructs before going on a tangent about how professor sprout had seperated him and george during class.

to say viktor krum wasn't pleased with fred's public display of affection towards you would be an understatement. apparently in durmstrang, they do things a little differently — such as rounding up your friends and beating up whoever crosses them, rather than the usual duels at hogwarts. so the sight of a bloodied fred entering your dorm had you leaping to your feet to question and aid him. despite the cuts around his face, fred's cocky smile never left his face. clearly he didn't get krum's message, seeing how he took every opportunity to hold your waist as you wiped the cuts clean off his face. krum truly wasn't getting to him. merlin, he seriously enjoyed pissing the guy off.

or so you thought until you caught onto fred's sudden interest in constantly pranking krum and the durmstrang boys. at first you assumed this could be revenge for ganging up on fred, but then you watched the weasley during one of his quidditch practises. beaters already had such an aggressive role — yet in your handful of years knowing fred, you'd never seen him play this aggressive. it was honestly impressive really, how he managed to keep a cool demeanor until he, well, couldn't.

george! george never could understand what had gotten into you to start hooking up with adrian fucking pucey. seriously, all george could think about was how closely pucey resembled to the troll his younger brother and friends fought during their second year. despite his thoughts, he never uttered a single word out loud. he was far from supportive of the relationship but he did his best to stay respectful — maybe you were in an 'i can fix him' phase. though george had no idea how anyone could remove the definite troll genes from the slytherin.

so sure, george kept his mouth shut and a respective distance from the whole relationship ... wrong. oh, come on, there's always a twist with the weasley twins. see, whilst publicly he was an angel .. behind closed doors and alone with you was a whole other wizard. the guy knew if he were to harass pucey with his pranks and stand against him, you would only push the ginger away. he didn't even want to risk such a thing. yet, he still wanted to be close enough to remind you of how much he cared. solitary moments with you begun gentle — he didn't want to cross any line, but still needed to have some sort of idea of where exactly that line was. it wasn't out of the ordinary for just the two of you to hang out — you were best friends after all. however, the more days spent with you, the more flirtatious george grew to be around you.

what starts with light touches on your elbow, soon grows into the two of you laying on the common room couch together, your head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around you as he talks sweet nothings with you. it was the same old george before you met pucey — how can you ever walk away from this? almost having read the room, george's gaze flickers onto your lips, the talk from him slowly dying out despite the fact that he hadn't even completed his sentence yet. your brain grows fuzzy at the sight of george slowly leaning in, your own gaze fixated on his lips. it was unfortunate that adrian had to step into your common room during that tender moment, clearly in search of you. knowing him, he was in need of some snogging right now. the darkening look in his eyes as he spots the two of you clearly highlights his distaste towards the whole scene. he had practically marched over to the couch, grabbing george by the collar as he slams him onto the nearest wall. you have to admit, the height difference of the five foot nine pucey compared to george's six foot three makes the whole interaction look a lot more silly. "fuck you doin' with my girl, weasley?" snarls adrian, his irish accent thick with rage. yet george seems less than phased, his arms raised as a smirk grows onto his face. "if she was your girl, mate, she would have pulled away." george calmly adds, glancing at you behind pucey with the most flirtatious eyes known to wizard kind. you can't help but feel stunned at the look, almost melting. "want to be the judge of this, darling?"

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virtyalangel · 1 month ago

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unfolded

content warnings ; weed + smoking + awkward teenagers + random cliffhangers + intentional use of lowercase + v bad writing(it’s been a while))

loser jackson!ellie x f!reader

you, ellie, weed, snow, and tension

“so.. you’ve really never smoked before?” ellie questioned, her voice confused and tittering on the edge of sympathy, but you knew that look. that look. the one where she cocked her head to the side, her short auburn hair framing her face in a way that was unique to herself. her freckled face scrunched together as if she was staring at a puzzle. then suddenly, her pale green eyes squinted as if she had finally figured you out. she morphed her lips into a half-smile.

the two of you were supposed to be on patrol, trailing along the familiar path you and dina had traveled when the weather was gentle and forgiving, but with the troubled weather and worsening condition of the snowy hell that awaited you and ellie outside, you decided to take shelter in an old, abandoned house. which, unbeknownst to you two, had an enormous and abandoned weed farm.

although most of the weed was dead and unusable, ellie had found some preserved joints, which is how the two of you ended up on a loveseat left in the abandoned weed farm. your legs crossed overtop ellie’s as you laid there, sitting up with your back against the edge of the couch. the two of you mirroring each others position unknowingly.

“don’t piss me off, williams.” you said through a breathy laugh. your gaze landed on the joint. it felt strange and unfamiliar in your presence, like it was an ancient artifact from another world. it was a good distraction from what was really bothering you.

“it ain’t nothing to be ashamed of.” ellie uttered. her gaze fell on the joint between your fingers. the unlit blunt stared back at her with an eerie silence it brought. she swept her eyes on you as the unsettling silence filled the room. and once it settled, she looked away. she hadn’t notice how quiet you’ve gotten. in her mind, she felt like she said something wrong, did she embarrass you? she didn’t want to do that. should she apologize? she should..

“i’ve smoked— i don’t know, like once?” you continued, the sudden sound of your voice startled ellie out of her thoughts. you both looked up, the sudden synchronized movement adding to the intensity of the moment. your lips twisted slightly, making a face that was too shy to be a grin but too troubled to be a smirk.

your fingers danced along with the blunt trapped between them. “can’t do much while barely surviving in this fucked world.” ellie nodded with your words, humming in agreement as her gaze flickered to the blunt for a moment. her hand lifted from her side, slowly resting on your leg close to the knee. the dichotomy of the gently touch and her teasing words caused a certain tension settle in your chest. the smell of the stale weed was getting to the two of you.

“still kinda funny.” she mumbled, her gaze back on you. her words lead to the release of loud groan from the back of your throat. “it’s not funny, asshole.” you spat back at her, kicking her in the side with your boot-clad foot.

“hey, what the hell?!” ellie squeaked, letting out a breed between a giggle and a shriek. her hands grabbed ahold of your leg, cutting off your movement as fast you started them. “that was disgusting. your boots are disgusting.” she teased, playfully shoving your foot away from her.

“my boots are disgusting? when was the last time you bathed?” you interrogated, the joint in your fingers long forgotten as you both bickered. “all of jackson knows that ellie williams doesn’t wash her ass,”

“this isn’t about me right now.”

“you’re gross.”

“rude ass,” ellie rolled her eyes at your words before she leaned forward, taking the joint from its resting state between your fingers, “gimme this.” she cooed, gently snatching the thing out of your fingers before she slumped against the couch again.

“i’ll teach you.” ellie stated softly as she pulled out a lighter from her back pocket, twirling the thing around her fingers before she finally lit the blunt. she could see you’re conflicted expression, and it made her heart surge inside her. she needed this to calm her nerves before she did or said something embarrassing. she took a deep drag of the blunt, trying to ease the tension inside of her as quickly as possible.

you scoffed, watching as she blew the smoke towards you in a smug-ridden manner. she observed you silently as you wafted the smoke away from your face, huffing in fake annoyance. “i don’t need you to teach me.” you told her. she hummed before she gave you a look, one that said ‘you sure?’ in complete silence. you’re heart leaped out of your chest, but you stood your ground.

she eventually passed the blunt back to you, leaning back with her arms over her chest. she was watching you like a hawk. she watched as you brought the blunt to your lips, her eyes narrowing slightly. you couldn’t tell what she was thinking. it looked like she was judging you as you took a drag from the blunt. she couldn’t hide her smirk as she watched your face grimace, and she damn sure couldn’t hold back the laughter once you began coughing up a storm.

“what the fuck is that?” you whined as you shoved the blunt back into ellie’s hands, smoke surrounding your face and invading your senses as you coughed and wheezed, a poor attempt on cleansing your throat from the blunts toxins. you swore you saw tears in her eyes from how hard she laughing. you kicked her again.

“ow— shit—that fucking hurts.” ellie choked out between laughs. you shot her a look, and she had to hide her smirk behind her hand. “you don’t need me to teach you, huh?” ellie teased, pressing the blunt to her mouth and taking another hit.

“oh, fuck you.”

“you’re too stubborn.” ellie mused as she shifted her position on the couch to lean closer to you. maybe it was the weed that was making her so bold, or maybe it was the constant back and forth between you two.

maybe it was the nights you would come over and hang out with her, letting her rant to you about her issues, when you listened to her geek out about the comics she would read without teasing her about it, or when you two would write and sing songs together. the times when she would sit next to you while you slept and would spend hours drawing you. watching as your face twitched, and when you woke up, she’d listen to you talk about how you had a bad dream.

‘she twitches when she has nightmares.’

half of her notebook was you. how you would remember the songs you two wrote and how you sung them while on patrol, how you played with the kids back at jackson and how they all loved you, how you liked to eat your eggs and what color flower you stared at the longest. she liked you, a lot. too much, but she couldn’t tell you. those nights you spent with her, she tried to. to tell you. to open her heart from the inside out and pour the blood that remained out for you to take. but every time her lips jumped over the words. did you even like her back? was she just delusional? were the feelings that festered in her body just frail imagery of a version of you that didn’t exist?

she blew the smoke that invaded her throat into your face, staring into your eyes that were red from the coughing fit that took over you earlier. you let the smoke rush over you, and once it passed, you two were face to face, and completely silent.

…

“ellie?”

i have no idea what i’m doing

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #loser!ellie x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #the last of us #tlou2 #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #v.angel once wroteˏˋ°•*⁀➷#enchanthings

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zstartrixxx · 12 days ago

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𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒

ʲᵃᶜᵏ ᵒ'ᶜᵒⁿⁿᵉˡˡ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓: 𝐘𝐄𝐒 | 𝐍𝐎

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: On cold London nights, wrapped in your own little world inside the Tube, your eyes keep finding each other. Until the back-and-forth of these tentative flirtations finally leads to it—the brush of nervous hands, half-formed sentences, and gazes that meet like destiny. 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: for the observant ones, it's clear that my greatest (and best) creative trigger is music. yes, i'm captivated by other arts—films, series, books—and even the mundane rhythms of daily life, but everything must intertwine with music in some way. this piece was no exception... i was listening to my favorite brazilian indie-alternative band, terno rei, and this gem ("trem leva minhas pernas") is, by far, my favorite of theirs. so i decided to craft a small vignette to offer you something tender for the heart. since it’s winter here, the mood fit perfectly—a quiet, introspective warmth. consider this my hand gently cupping your hearts before my next two fics arrive (both brimming with emotion and a touch of melancholy ;) 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: FOR ALL AUDIENCES. i’ve unlocked the purest, softest, most delicate—dare i say poetic (hehe)—side of my writer’s soul. so grab some rich hot chocolate, cozy up, and let this story wrap around you like a warm hug. sometimes, a little lightness and casual sweetness is exactly what we need, right?! obs.: while this fic is tagged with jack (RFP), feel free to imagine any version of him here—even character from him tbh! plus, the reader is deliberately gender-neutral, so this is for everyone to enjoy ;) 𝐖𝐂: 1.5k for whoever is going to read it, a great read! <3 likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :)

𝖬𝖠𝖲𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖫𝖨𝖲𝖳

"there's a storm at the window, and the train takes my legs, and your gaze strikes me. take me with you, train." (trem leva minhas pernas, terno rei)

The look hits you.

It’s night in London, winter arriving quietly with gusts of icy wind against unprotected faces, leaving fair-skinned people with that faint redness of dilated capillaries—and that’s exactly how his face looks. His large, pointed nose flushed, sharp cheekbones dotted with pink-red blotches, languid eyes of a shimmering blue-gray locked onto you through a black wool beanie and moss-green scarf wrapped over his lips. From under the beanie, you catch glimpses of hair somewhere between dark blond and coppery brown. Occasionally, when he shifts his chin, the lower half of his face escapes the scarf, revealing a thick red beard that contrasts with the green fabric, his pale skin wind-burned, those blue eyes piercing.

You’ve been exchanging long, shy stares on the Tube for a while now, jostled side to side between sweet perfumes and the pungent sting of strangers’ sweat, an ocean of people floating through their lives, too distracted to notice the quiet flirtation blooming between you and the stranger across the carriage. That’s how you nicknamed him in your head—'Tube Crush’—whenever your tired post-work eyes caught him watching you from the other end of the car. Always with white wired headphones looped around his neck, emerging from hoodies, phone clutched in his fingers.

This was your silent language: observing each other with something like affection. When you offhandedly mentioned your ‘Tube Crush’ to your best friend, she burst out laughing—"You and your transient boyfriends…"—leaving you in a near-philosophical spiral. Transient. Like the comings and goings of the Tube itself. He’s just a passenger in your life. The irony stings.

You laughed at yourself, forgot about him—until the next time you descended into the station, waiting for your train. The kind of wait that makes you remember him, materializing not too tall but lean in casual clothes, a few steps away. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, under the pale station lights, your eyes meet again in a silent "Hey, you alright."—no question mark needed.

You’re always in wireless headphones, volume cranked to drown the noise, skipping playlists to match your mood. When you snag a seat, you usually read—but lately, all your attention drifts to him. You fondly recall the time he held your gaze and muttered a soft "Hey…" before clamming up again. Hope flickered, then faded. Back to square one:

Long stares.

Small, fragile smiles.

Today was different. Leaning against a pole, five minutes from your stop, you felt warmth brush your hand. Distracted by one-thumb typing on your phone, you glanced up—just as he yanked his hand away, muffling a "Sorry!"

You blinked, disbelieving. The grin that broke across your face was too genuine, your heart hammering:

"No, it’s fine! Really…" You pocketed your phone, turning to him fully, eyes crinkling to telegraph I’m here, talk to me. His beanie and scarf framed wide eyes, his face flushed. Up close, you spotted faint lines around his eyes. Maybe a few years older than you.

"You really like reading, yeah? Always see you with books…" he started, vaguely nodding at your bag. You laughed, relieved:

"Yeah, it’s how I unwind after work, y’know?"

"S’pose so. I read too, just never on the Tube. Feels a bit—" He tugged the scarf down, freeing full, pink lips. The breath that attains you is watermelon candy and cigarettes: "—hard to focus."

"Ah, right…" You drag out the last syllable, reluctant to let the conversation die. But the train brakes, and you blurt:

"This is my stop." You twist your lips, stepping back—when he calls out:

"Nice to finally meet you!"

"You too… Tube Stranger!" You wink before hopping off, your heart battling your brain’s mockery of that atrocious line.

Glancing back, you catch him stifling a laugh. You muster a wave—not expecting him to return it with startling… gentleness.

After that unexpected exchange of words, the two of you began trading brief remarks here and there. Gradually, those clipped, tentative phrases unfurled into full sentences—beginnings, middles, and ends—until one day, as naturally as the rhythm of your shared commutes, you realized you were holding proper conversations. And yet, absurdly, you’d never even swapped names. Until one day, he offered his—sonorous, lovely:

"Name’s Jack. Pleasure, Miss Tube Bookworm!"

You laughed softly, then gave yours. Funny how your chest aches when he leans in, how your breath thickens. His eyes glitter, pupils dilating as they reflect you.

It's cold in London on this idle Wednesday night when you bump into each other in the city. A near-brutal irony amidst the ephemeral traffic—red double-deckers rolling past, lights flashing vibrant green and bright yellow, people trudging home from work in their puffed jackets with cigarettes dangling. He looks at you as if you were some mirage, a kind of idyllic dream, breaking into a smile. There he was inside a fried chicken joint, drinking Irish stout beside who you assumed were his mates. Casual, with his hair exposed and tousled, wearing a plain navy blue hoodie and dark jeans. The moment he spots you passing by the window, he stops everything to come after you, more buoyant than you've ever seen him, still clutching his pint as he greets you.

"Didn’t know you existed off the Tube!"

"Prat… Day off, then?"

"Oh, this?" He lifts the pint, chuckling. "Treat after a shit day. Fancy joining us? I’ll get you a pint—introduce you to the lads." His accent thickens, jerking a thumb at the group inside. A few peer at you, murmuring behind the glass. You’d love to, but you’ve got to get home. You check your phone reflexively.

"Ah, you’ve gotta run. S’alright—"; He cuts you off, shoulders slumping as he looks you up and down, seeming to assess something. You try to explain:

"Really, Jackie, it's fine—I'll just walk and we can plan drinks another time, honestly it's no trouble at all and—"

"I'm coming with you."

His tone leaves no room for argument—it steals the words right from your mouth.

He ducks back into the restaurant, says something to his mates who immediately start talking over each other in a chaotic chorus. With a laugh, he pulls his wallet out, tosses some bills on the table, grabs his jacket and backpack from the chair, and strides back out to you.

"Alright?"

You fall into step side by side, the comfortable silence between you broken only by the crisp night air. At some point, Jack lights a cigarette. He offers you one—you decline—and he muffles a chuckle, "’S good you don't smoke this shit anyway, proper bad for you," his laughter coming easy and unguarded.

The night hangs still and frosty around you, every exhale from his nose visible in the cold, mingling with the pale smoke curling from his cigarette. You make idle chat as you trace what's nearly the Tube route back; he mentions selling his car recently to help pay off his flat, but says he prefers the Tube or bus anyway—less time spent agonizing over mortgage payments.

"Gonna get a motorbike in a few weeks regardless."

"So you'll be abandoning me then?"

"Nah," he lights another fag with alarming ease—you're half-convinced the man's part chimney. His answer comes matter-of-fact: "I'll give you lifts if you want. Simple."

"Simple..." you echo, rolling your eyes even as you laugh with him. Then, casual as anything, his arm slips around your shoulders, the weight of it warm and solid through your layers. The faint scent of him—something clean beneath the wool and denim—makes your breath catch. It hits you then, how far you've somehow come from those first silent Tube rides.

Above you, the stars flicker like distant streetlamps. The tips of your ears burn with cold, laughter hanging in frosty puffs between you as you wander the city's veins. He plays tour guide with easy confidence—"Got the whole bloody map right here," he claims, tapping his palm—while the tip of your tongue presses absently against the roof of your mouth, shaping responses that taste like possibility. Your heart thrums with the ache of anticipation as your footsteps echo louder in the empty streets. The night watches, a silent witness to whatever this is becoming.

He makes you laugh without trying, exhales cigarette smoke sideways before fixing you with those lingering looks—some unspoken understanding humming between you. Not quite friends, not quite lovers, but something alive in the in-between.

His gaze hits you like an arrow of dark topaz. The city unfolds around you in a symphony of yellow streetlight and shadow. For a moment, you're back on the Tube—that same suspended intimacy—watching life's chaos swirl past the windows like a storm you're somehow outside of.

"Lucky I found you, yeah?"

You're not even sure who says it. You? Him? Does it matter? Here, now, you let the current take you—shared glances deepening, hands finding each other with more certainty than that first accidental brush on the train.

It's night in London. And when your eyes meet his, you've no idea how lucky he feels—to be swept away by you tonight.

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: sometimes my heart really does crave sweeter, softer stories—no heavy drama, no melancholy, just comfort (except for smut, obviously). this fic was my genuine call for exactly that. i loved writing it with my whole heart because: 1) it totally vibes with my daydreams of meeting someone on a random day, no big surprises or theatrics, just... going about my life and bam! the love of my life appears (and no, unfortunately it won't be jackie, paul mescal, or kim jongin; kai from exo), because alas life isn't all sunshine and rainbows blah blah blah... but you get what i mean lol. 2) i actually do enjoy writing fluffier stories built on dialogue and relationship development, seriously... as they say, my favorite tropes aren't even enemies to lovers (honestly the story has to be really well-built for me to buy all that hate turning into love FOR ME) but rather friends to lovers or strangers to friends to lovers, y'know? i LOVE it and think it's what suits me best irl ksksksksksksksksk. and well... 3) like i said above, after this fic, the next ones (at least the next two, three, or maybe even four fics—we'll see) will be much heavier, more mature, sadder, and all that. stay tuned *evil laughter while rubbing my hands together*

#jack o'connell fanfic #jack o'connell x reader #jack o'connell x you #[🦇] zstar jack o'connell #[★] zstartrixxx #[⋆♱⋆] zstar fanfics #blue plain dividers by #enchanthings #graphic divider by #◜ 𖥔 ˙⸼۪❀˟̫ː By Lil-liaa #Spotify

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hambiichu · 1 month ago

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BREEDING KINK DAY ONE

Sumarry: Modern Au Alpha and Omega. Alpha Levi x Omega Reader

Haha. Is been a while :") please bear with me as I try to go back on writing Levi again. Is like a long hiatus, I guess? Anyway I'll slowly try to write the remaining days on @levievent. I am so late ;_; sorry if this is rush

Ao3

Tags: Breeding kink, Alpha Levi, Omega Reader, smut, modern au, Female Reader, omegaverse

Divider by @/enchanthings

Levi embraces his identity as an Alpha mate, fully respecting your decision regarding the timing of starting a family. He understands your desire to hold off on having children for now, but he also recognizes the longing you feel as an Omega—a yearning that seems to grow with each passing day.

You often find yourself admiring other Omegas who proudly showcase their swollen baby bumps, basking in the love and affection their Alphas bestow upon them. It’s a sight that brings an unmistakable warmth to your heart, stirring a deep desire within you.

As Levi observes these moments, he becomes acutely aware of your feelings. He notices the way your eyes light up when you see a happy family, and it ignites something within him as well. He, too, longs for the joy of parenthood—although not just the traditional vision of two children; he dreams of a larger family, filled with the laughter and energy of many little ones.

The thought of you being filled with his children ignites a fervent attraction within him, awakening a primal desire that courses through his veins. This realization transforms his perspective, deepening his feelings towards you. For him, this is not merely a fleeting fantasy; it is a profound kink that brings him immense joy, one he yearns to explore exclusively with you. His heart races at the prospect of carving out a future together—a future brimming with love, laughter, and the delightful chaos that accompanies family life.

As he deals with these profound feelings, he realizes the importance of waiting for the perfect time—when you are in heat. In those intimate moments, he gently seeks your approval regarding whether you desire children. However, deep down, his genuine longing grows; he silently hopes for you to accept his seed, envisioning the day when you may conceive.

Then one day, it happen.

You find yourself nestled in your shared bedroom with Levi, surrounded by his clothing, which you've piled around you like a makeshift nest. The familiar scents of him envelop you, heightening your senses as you sniff and whimper in anticipation. You know that he’ll be home soon; you’ve texted him earlier to let him know that your heat has begun, and you are confident that Levi will finish his work promptly, eager to return to you. With every minute that passes, the longing grows stronger, as you await the moment when he can finally be with you, ready to embrace the desires that both of you share.

You curled yourself, enwrapped in the thickest of Levi's sweaters and nested atop their tangled bedding, every nerve ending tuned to the tick of the clock above the door. The ticking was metronomic, the time between clicks measured against the staccato pulse inside your chest.

When Levi arrive, it was so silent that you missed it at first. Then the front door eased open and closed with a hush, and you sensed him before he came into view: the particular way the air shifted, the almost-inaudible sigh as he set his bag down in the entryway.

It was always like this, his presence so familiar and beloved that you could recognize it even in the dark, by the vector of his motion, the resonance of his voice as he called out your name. He stepped into the bedroom, looked over the nest you'd built from his sweaters and shirts, and smiled in a way that was both knowing and exceedingly gentle.

He watched you for a moment, hands braced on either side of the doorframe. It was a look of recognition, of hunger tempered by reverence—he wanted you, needed you, but he would not take you until you asked. It was the same every time, a ritual as sacred as any vow, and it made you ache all the more.

The room spun with the scent of him, of you, of the combined longing that crackled like ozone in the air. He seemed to almost taste it, the way his pupils dilated and his nostrils flared, and you felt the connection between you tighten until it was a live wire.

Levi crossed the room in two strides, knees sinking to the velvet pile of jumpers and blankets where you stole. He was still in his work clothes, slacks and a soft-collared shirt, the tie already loosened, but you could sense the effort it took for him to maintain composure. You reached for him, shaky fingers grasping at his wrist, and he took your hand like it was the most precious thing in the world.

Your own voice sounded faraway, shy: "Levi?" The word trembled at the end, almost a plea.

He squeezed your hand and knelt so that he was level with you, eye to eye. "I know," he whispered, thumb skating along your cheek. " I'm here."

You wanted to tell him more, to say everything you felt, but the words lodged in your throat, replaced by a high keen as he brought his mouth to yours. At first it was a soft kiss, slow and familiar, but soon it grew urgent, open-mouthed, tongues tangling and breath hitching.

You clawed at his shirt, desperate to close any distance between you, and he responded by cupping the back of your head, holding you steady as the kiss deepened. In the back of your mind, you were aware of how your bodies fit together, the lines and angles, the practiced way his hands mapped your ribs and hips, the way your own hands fit into the grooves of his shoulders and waist.

You felt yourself shake, whether from cold or desire you couldn't say, and he broke the kiss with a hum of concern. He brushed your hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. "Tell me what you need," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn't speak, could only yelp softly as his hand slid beneath the hem of the sweater, hot against your skin. He slipped his other arm under your knees and lifted you easily, settling you in his lap as though you weighed nothing. There, the world narrowed to the space between his chest and yours, to the mutual need that rendered everything else meaningless.

He pressed his lips against yours once more, this time more slowly, savoring every moment. You matched his enthusiasm as best as you could, arching into his caress as he leisurely glided his hands up your sides.

The feeling ignited a flurry of warmth along your spine, and you breathed out his name softly, hiding your face in the curve of his neck. You could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat, frenzied and barely contained, which only heightened your yearning.

You struggled with his shirt until he assisted you in taking it off, then kissed his collarbone, savoring the saltiness of his skin. He trembled, his breathing uneven now. "You want this, right? Yeah? You want to become pregnant now? Carry my pups, mhm?"

You nodded desperately, "Yes, please. Please. Impregnate me, please."

He grinned, and any facade of serenity disappeared. He pushed you back onto the nest and positioned himself over you, showering your jaw, neck, and shoulders with kisses. You arched your body upward, every fiber of your being yearning for him, and he complied, taking your face in his hands and kissing you so passionately it felt as though you might never catch your breath.

You intertwined your fingers in his hair and pulled, encouraging him to come even closer. You wrapped your legs around his waist, securing him in place, and he let out a groan at the intensity of it.

He continued kissing down your neck, nipping and sucking until you were convinced there would be marks by morning. He only paused for a moment, perhaps to appreciate you, to let you take a breath, but you clawed at his back, silently pleading for him to continue.

He read your desperation instantly, and his self-control finally snapped. He worked your sweater and underwear off with a single motion, the air cool on your flushed skin, and in the same moment he shucked his own pants and boxers, baring himself to you. There was nothing but the two of you now, and when he pressed himself against you, you both gasped, the contact like an electric shock.

He lined himself up, eyes never leaving yours, and waited—not for his own sake, but for yours, making certain you wanted this finally, that you needed it as badly as he did. You nodded, biting your lip, and he pushed in slowly, giving you time to adjust, to feel every inch of him. It was perfect, the stretch, the fullness, the way your bodies locked together. You let out a moan, loud enough that you were certain the neighbors could hear, but you didn't care, not now.

Levi set a rhythm, gentle at first, but as your bodies became reacquainted with each other he moved faster, deeper, the force of his thrusts making the bed creak beneath you.

At the back of Levi's mind, it screams words as it gets bold and bolder:

Get pregnant.

GET PREGNANT.

GET PREGNANT!!!

He peppered you with kisses the entire time, whispering your name, calling you beautiful, telling you how much he needed you, how good you felt. You responded in kind, nails digging into his back, hips canting upward to meet his every move.

It built inside you, pleasure so acute you felt like you might come apart at the seams. He sensed your approach and angled his hips just right, catching the spot that made you see stars, and the sensation tipped you over the edge. You cried out, clutching his shoulders, shaking with the force of it as you came, shuddering through every wave.

Levi was right behind you, groaning your name as he followed you over the precipice. He collapsed onto you, crushing you, and for a while neither of you moved, too spent to do anything but breathe and listen to the thud of your hearts.

When you finally came back to yourself, you were still wrapped around him, unwilling to let go. He stroked your hair, murmuring soft words into your skin, and you clung to him, unwilling to let the moment end.

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moontear223 · 11 days ago

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𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 & 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐬

marauder era characters x fem!reader love island au

Summary: As the villa wakes to golden light and soft smiles, some hearts begin to drift while others reach out in quiet curiosity. But not all intentions are clear. Heat rises in more ways than one as new sparks fly and trust starts to crack.

Warnings: reality TV setting, relationship dynamics, sexual innuendos and tension, mild language, golden retriever energy (james), gossip, flirtation, shared bed (non-explicit), underlying jealousy and manipulation, slow burn romance, strong female friendships, emotional conflict anddd i think that’s all?

series masterlist

A hush settled over the villa, as if even the waves knew to tread gently. Golden light seeped through the curtains, brushing against tangled sheets and tousled hair. Air thick with the scent of sea salt and coconut oil, and somewhere beyond the lush greenery, tropical birds sang delicate melodies—welcoming the new day.

Inside the villa, however, peace didn’t stand a chance.

Most of the islanders were still clinging to their beds, groans came from under duvets, eyes squinting blearily at the intrusion of the sun. Lily mumbled something unintelligible into her pillow. Regulus pulled the covers over his head in annoyance, Mary rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

And then—

There was James Potter.

Fully vertical. Possibly caffeinated. Absolutely unhinged.

“Rise and shine, you beautiful magical disasters!” he bellowed, launching himself from his bed and landing with a soft thud on the floor—dramatic by choice. “Let’s seize the day! Or at least, find coffee before it seizes us.”

Within seconds, he was bouncing bed to bed, barefoot and relentless.

“Make room for joy!” he shouted, leaping onto Remus and Mary’s bed. Remus swatted him away with a pillow like a professor batting away a first-year with too many questions. But James, undeterred, was already on his next mission.

Which, unfortunately, was your bed.

You were still nestled half-asleep against Sirius, warm and comfortably tangled under the sheets—until the bed exploded with movement as James leapt onto it like a jackrabbit on a trampoline.

The mattress bucked violently. James howled mid-air. You shrieked as his entire weight slammed into the edge, sending you sprawling off the other side with a loud thud.

“...Ow,” you groaned from the floor, wrapped in the sheets like a cursed burrito.

Sirius blinked over the edge, smirking. “Well, good morning, grace and elegance.”

You looked up at him, hair in your face. “Tell your himbo to keep his biceps and boundary issues to himself.”

Sirius raised a brow. “My himbo?”

You froze. “....Don’t.”

But Sirius was already shifting, slowly, dramatically, to face James. His tone dipped into pure flirt. “So. That little stunt—was that for me?”

James blinked, confused for half a second—then smirked.

“Obviously,” he said, reclining back like they were in a rom-com. “I wake you up the way you deserve.”

“Oh, baby,” Sirius purred, stretching an arm across James’s chest. “Don’t make me feel things before breakfast.”

You groaned from the floor. “I hope a gnome steals both your shoes.”

James threw a pillow at you without looking. “Shhh, third wheel energy.”

You sat up, unimpressed. “I’m literally in a couple with one of you.”

“Exactly,” Sirius said, stroking James’s face with obnoxious tenderness. “And yet you don’t appreciate what we have.”

James cupped Sirius's hand dramatically. “She’ll never understand us.”

And before you could lob your water bottle, Sirius pressed a loud, sloppy, exaggerated kiss to James’s cheek. He let out a yelp and flailed back, knocking into the headboard. “Mate!”

Sirius grinned. “That’s for trying to flatten my girlfriend.”

You dusted yourself with a long-suffering sigh. “You two need help.”

James smirked. “We need mimosas. And maybe couples therapy.”

Sirius shot you a wink. “Jealousy’s a bad look on you, sweetheart.”

You launched the pillow back at him.

Moving on from inside the makeup room was a flurry of laughter—silky robes slipping off shoulders to reveal sun-kissed skin and bright bikinis underneath. The warm glow of vanity lights framed flushed cheeks and carefully applied gloss as the girls leaned into mirrors, blending, buffing, and batting their lashes. All whilst sharing stories and stealing quiet moments before the day truly began.

Mary was the first to speak, smoothing bronzer along her collarbone as she perched on the counter like she owned it. “So girls, honest hour. Are we all sticking to the people we’re coupled with, or are we pulling chats today?”

Marlene smirked at her reflection, adjusting the strap of her bikini. “Spicy question for 9am.”

“I’m just saying,” Mary shrugged, curling her lashes, “Remus is sweet. Smart. Very observant. I actually think we could have something—if we keep talking. But I’m not closing myself off yet. It’s the first bloody morning.”

Lily hummed, twisting her curls into a claw clip. “No shame in window-shopping. That’s kind of the point, right?”

Marlene tilted her head, almost too casual. “Well… I wouldn’t mind pulling James for a chat. Just to see.”

You raised a brow, amused. “James?”

She nodded. “Yeah. We haven’t talked much, and he's got that manic sunshine energy.” But there was a flicker in her tone. A slight pause that said something wasn’t being said.

Mary clocked it instantly. “Is that all?”

Marlene just shrugged, reapplying her gloss. “Well, it’s just like you said—just ‘cause we’re coupled up doesn’t mean we’re closed off.”

The tension barely had time to simmer before Lily spun in her stool, eyes on you. “What about you? You and Sirius were practically fused together this morning.”

You laughed, but your tone was tinged with nerves. “I wouldn’t say fused. It's still early days. But yea, he’s fun. Charming. Too charming, you know?” You exhaled slowly, brushing blush across your cheeks. “I’m definitely interested, but I don’t want to be a pit stop on the way to someone else.”

Lily gave you a knowing look. “You thinking about other options?”

“Is it that obvious?” You hesitated, dabbing at your cheeks again. “I mean, I’ll risk getting singled out if it means exploring what feels right. We’re on an island full of attractive men—and women,” you added cheekily, shooting Lily a wink. She giggled and nodded.

Although… there was one other very handsome boy you had your eye on. But you kept that to yourself.

“What about you, Lily?” you asked, eager to shift the attention. “Anyone got you interested?”

“I think I’ll pull Regulus for a chat,” she said smoothly. “We didn’t cuddle last night, which honestly doesn’t surprise me. He feels like someone you have to earn.”

She crossed her legs, ever the strategist. “And maybe James too. See who’s got actual substance.”

Just then, a splash echoed from outside. You all looked up in unison.

“Did someone just—?” Mary began.

A familiar voice followed. “Ten out of ten backflip!” Sirius hollered.

Marlene peaked out the window. “Remus,” she confirmed. “Fully flipped. Nearly took out a sunbed.”

You laughed. “And they say he’s the quiet one.”

Meanwhile, the kitchen was an unsupervised mess of shirtless ambition and uncoordinated teamwork. Imagine a slightly chaotic scene of the boys cracking eggs, the hum of the toaster misbehaving, pans sizzling with a chorus of banter that somehow felt like the perfect soundtrack to their morning. Remus jogged in, water dripping from his hair, board shorts clinging to his legs, and a smug grin stretched across his face.

“Was that necessary?” Sirius asked, giving him a playful shove.

“Uhm, yes?” Remus chuckled, swiping at his wet forehead. “I overheat easily. Who wouldn’t take advantage of a pool like that?”

“He’s got a point,” Regulus said coolly, grabbing a glass. “Definitely hitting the water later.”

Sirius hummed in agreement, curating a plate like it was a Michelin experience—fruit slices arranged with casual flair. He popped a strawberry in his mouth like it owed him something.

“Alright, lads,” he said, mouth half full. “Let’s talk shop. Who’s pulling chats today?”

James, flipping a slightly burned pancake, pointed a spatula like a wand. “I want to talk to Marlene. There could be something there. Lily too—she’s got layers.”

“Brave,” Regulus deadpanned. “Choosing both.”

“I’m a man of ambition,” James grinned.

Remus plated up calmly, setting aside an extra dish. “I’ll keep chatting to Mary. We got on last night, and I want to see where that leads. But I’m not shutting off options either.”

Regulus took the spatula from James, rescuing the eggs from certain doom. “Lily’s interesting,” he said simply. “She’s sharp. But I might pull Mary for a chat too. And maybe her,” he added casually, nodding toward the patio where you’d disappeared earlier.

James raised an eyebrow. “Two girls already in couples? And you say I’m brave?

Regulus only smirked.

Simultaneously, Sirius opened the fridge, grabbing the juice and set it down on the bar overlooking the living area. Remus leaned over the island, elbow on the counter.

“So what about you?” he asked Sirius, “Gonna keep getting to know her?”

Sirius’s gaze lingered on the patio door before shrugging. “I mean, yeah of course. She’s cool and we’ve got chemistry for sure. But I’m vibing it out. Don’t wanna lock anything down too early.”

“So you’re keeping your options open?”

“Something like that,” he said vaguely, turning to pour himself a drink.

Remus nodded, moving away from the island. “Either way, it’s gonna be one hell of a summer.”

Moments later, the girls arrived, trailing the scent of floral perfume and sun cream, laughter still lingering in the air. Flip-flops clacked against the stone tiles as they made their way into the kitchen.

Mary’s eyes lit up as she spotted the neatly plated breakfast already waiting for her. Without hesitation, she slid onto the stool at the island as Remus nudged the dish closer, his usual calm expression softening into something bashful. She offered him a quiet thanks in return and reached up to give him a side hug, her shoulder bumping gently against his chest before she settled in to eat.

Nearby, James was in full theatrics, presenting Marlene’s plate with an exaggerated flourish and a bow so dramatic it nearly knocked over his drink. Marlene rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the amused smile tugging at her lips. She took the plate with a graceful flick of her hair, giving him a slow once-over like she was judging both the meal and the man.

Remus took the now-empty stool beside Mary, quietly tucking into his food with casual precision. There was something almost methodical in the way he ate—focused, but comfortable. A soft murmur of conversation built around the island.

Regulus, ever composed, leaned toward Lily with a calm confidence, his voice low enough that it didn’t carry across the space. With a slight tilt of his head, he gestured toward the poolside seating just beyond the sliding doors, silently offering a breakfast chat. Lily, intrigued, nodded without hesitation and slid her plate into her hands.

You, however, had eyes for someone else.

Sirius was lounging by the fridge, leaning lazily against the island counter like he had all the time in the world. The juice bottle sat unopened next to him, condensation slick on the glass. He hadn’t noticed you yet. Not fully.

So you crossed the kitchen quietly, arms relaxed at your sides, the hem of your coverup fluttering around your thighs. When you reached him, you slipped your arms around his waist from behind, pressing lightly into his back.

Sirius froze for just a beat, surprised—but then you felt him soften. He let out a small sigh and covered your hands with his own, fingertips warm against your knuckles. “Morning, gorgeous,” he murmured, the smile in his voice unmistakable.

“Morning,” you replied into his shoulder, then added with a giggle. “Although we already established that when James decided to join us in bed.”

Sirius laughed, his shoulders shaking gently beneath your cheek. “Yeah, I honestly thought it was a dream at first.”

He turned in your arms slightly, just enough to brush a kiss to your cheeks before grabbing a slice of toast from a nearby plate. “If I’d known breakfast came with a cuddle this morning, I'd have gotten up sooner.”

You let out an amused smile, watching him through your lashes. He took a bite, then added through with a grin, “Just don’t tell the others I’m going soft—it’ll ruin my reputation.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What reputation?”

Sirius gasped dramatically, hand to his chest. “I’ll have you know I’m known far and wide as a heartbreaker, a flirt, and a man who doesn’t make his own eggs.”

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice just for you.“But for you? I might consider it. Maybe.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you reached for a strawberry off his plate.

The villa had settled into a golden lull. Late morning melted into afternoon, the heat sinking into the stone tiles and the backs of lounge chairs. Laughter echoed from the bean bags as Mary braided Marlene’s hair with surprising focus, both of them lounging in their oversized sunglasses. But not before Remus pulled Mary for a chat, the girl smiling bashfully at him through her mascara coated lashes.

Nearby, Lily had her legs dipped in the water, playfully flicking droplets at James, who was stretched out beside her, eyes squinting up as he grinned lazily in the sun. Not far off, Remus and Mary were walking laps around the villa, low voices and shared glances making it obvious they were still feeling out whatever had sparked between them the night before.

You were stretched out on a lounger, skin warm, the scent of sunscreen lingering on your shoulders, when you heard someone clear their throat beside you. You looked up to find Regulus standing there, one brow quirked, his voice smooth and cool.

“Fancy a quick chat?”

Your gaze flickered instinctively to Sirius—he was now deep in conversation with James and hadn’t noticed. You glanced back up at Regulus. Sharp as ever in his swim shorts and a linen shirt unbuttoned halfway, there was something unreadable in his expression. Watchful. Or maybe curious.

“Sure,” you said, surprised but not displeased. You missed the way Sirius turned his head slightly as you stood.

You followed him toward the secluded dock, passing by half-opened windows and idle laughter. The villa blurred behind you, and once seated. The conversation unfolded slowly. Light at first—questions about your type, who surprised you, how your first night really went. He had that calm presence, one that made you feel watched and considered, not just looked at.

“You and Sirius looked close this morning,” he said. His tone wasn’t judgemental. Only observant.

“Mhm,” you replied carefully, lips twitching. “But it’s early days.”

He nodded, and his gaze dipped briefly to your legs, then back up to your eyes. “Just making sure you weren’t locked in. Yet.”

You gave a small smile. “You pulling me for a chat, or pulling me for something else?”

Regulus chuckled under his breath, tilting his head. “Maybe I’ll let you decide.”

You raised a brow at him, the curve of your mouth betraying your interest. “Dangerous move. I’m notoriously bad with decisions.”

Regulus tilted his head, watching you like he was trying to work something out. “Somehow I doubt that.”

There was something in the way he said it—not quite teasing, not fully challenging either. Just honest.

You let out a quiet breath, letting your eyes wander over the view for a moment before returning to him. “Alright, fine. I’ll bite. What exactly am I deciding?”

He shrugged, seemingly casual, but there was a subtle stillness in him. Like he was paying very close attention to how you’d respond.

“Whether I’m wasting my time pulling you for a chat,” he said, low. “Or if you're as interesting as I think you are.”

You blinked, caught a little off guard—but in a good way. He wasn’t playing the loud, attention-grabbing flirtation game like some of the others. No, Regulus was quieter. Sharper. He asked questions that feel like dares.

“That’s bold,” you said eventually, tilting your head, eyes narrowing just slightly. “You always start your chats with veiled threats and unearned confidence?”

He smirked. “Only when I’m enjoying myself.”

You huffed a soft laugh, tucking your knees loosely on the bench. “Well, then by all means—don’t let me stop you.”

Regulus studied you for a second, like he was turning something over in his mind, then leaned forward slightly, arms resting on his knees. “So what’s your plan, really?” he asked. “You playing it safe with Sirius. Or just playing time until someone better comes along?”

You paused, brow lifting slightly—not defensive, just honest. “It’s not about something better,” you said. “It’s about something real. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time. Including my own.”

A slow grin crept across his face. “See,” he said, sitting back again. “That’s the kind of answer I like.”

You opened your mouth to reply—but the soft sound of footsteps approaching made you turn.

Lily.

She slowed when she saw the two of you seated together. Her expression wasn’t angry, not exactly, but it was… tight. You clocked it immediately in the way her arms folded across her chest, and the way her eyes flicked. Once to you, once to Regulus then back again.

He noticed.

He stood up smoothly, offering you a quick glance, then turned to Lily. “I’ll let you two talk,” he said, voice light—but his jaw was a little set now. He gave her a brief squeeze on the shoulder, more out of politeness than warmth, then walked away without another word.

You watched him go, then turned to Lily. “Are you okay?” you asked, shifting slightly on the bench to face her. She hesitated a moment before sitting beside you. Her arms were still crossed, her gaze focused out toward the ocean.

“I was in the kitchen,” she started, voice quieter than usual. “Just grabbing some fruit. That’s when I saw her.”

You blinked. “Saw who?”

“Marlene,” she said, finally turning her head toward you. “Pulling Sirius. She did that thing—you know, when someone grazes their arm and lean in like they’re telling a secret.”

Lily’s mouth curled into a grimace. “And then she just… steered him straight toward the soul ties daybed.”

The name of that cursed daybed hit your stomach like a small weight. “She didn’t mention anything about that this morning.” You tried to keep your tone neutral, but it came out clipped.

Lily nodded.

“Exactly. She said she was going to pull James for a chat. Nothing about Sirius.” A pause. “And I wouldn’t be weird about it, if she’d just said something. We’re all being honest, or I thought we were.”

You exhaled slowly, trying to keep your heartbeat from climbing. “Did you… see anything?”

Lily looked away again.

“Yeah,” she said after a beat. “I waited. Thought maybe it was innocent. Then I saw her legs across his lap. And then they started kissing.”

You blinked.

“Kissing?” The word felt hollow in your mouth. Like it didn’t belong to you.

Lily glanced sideways at you, her voice soft. Quiet. “They didn’t see me. I left before they could. But… yeah.”

The sun still shone on the water, casting gold over everything, but it suddenly felt too hot. The scent of sunscreen turned sour in your nose. Your fingered curled slightly into your palms, knuckles whitening.

“I thought you should know before someone else made it worse,” Lily added gently.

The silence stretched between you, tension rising—so thin you could cut it with a blunt knife. Your gaze lingered on the edge of the villa now, where the sun lounges sat just out of sight.

Then, without thinking, you stood.

And you stood there for a moment, unsure what to do with your hands. Then you slowly lowered yourself beside Lily, feeling like your skin was buzzing with heat that had nothing to do with the sun.

“I’m not mad that she pulled him,” you said, eyes trained somewhere over Lily’s shoulder. “That’s the whole point of being here, right? Exploring connections, see what fits. We all said that.”

You let out a breath, steady but tight. “What stings is that she sat there this morning, right in front of me, and said James. All that talk of honesty, and she was already planning to sneak off with Sirius.”

Lily’s eyes flickered over your face, her hand resting gently on your knees now, grounding you.

“I could’ve handled it,” you went on, voice a little quieter, more raw. “If she’s said something. Even just a heads up. I might’ve hated it—but at least I wouldn’t feel like I got played.”

A silence stretched between you, the weight of it pressing against your ribs. “And that kiss…” you shook your head, jaw clenching. “That wasn’t during a challenge. Or it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment dare.”

You glanced at Lily. “That was both of them making a choice.”

You didn’t say his name. You didn’t have to.

“They knew what they were doing,” you finished, tone flat. “And neither of them thought I deserved to know.”

Lily gave your hand a firm squeeze. “That’s not on you. Don’t twist it like that.”

You nodded slowly. The hurt was still there, sitting stubborn in your chest. But you didn’t feel foolish now. Just disappointed.

“Thanks,” you murmured. “For telling me.”

“You deserved to hear it from someone who gives a shit.”

That pulled a soft, unexpected laugh from your chest—more breath than sound, but real. You looked at her, eyes slightly glassy. “You’re kind of the best, you know that?”

Lily shrugged, but her smile was fond. “Don’t make it weird.”

You both laughed, and in that moment, you leaned into her, looping your arms around her shoulders.

She held you tightly, warm and solid and safe. “I’ve got you,” she murmured. “No matter how messy it gets.”

You closed your eyes briefly, breathing her in. Sun, salt, and a hint of coconut shampoo. It didn’t fix everything, but it helped. And right now, that was enough. The two of you lingered in the shade for a moment longer, the warmth of the hug softening something in your chest.

It was nice knowing you had someone on your side.

You eventually pulled back, wiping beneath your eyes with the pads of your fingers, giving Lily a small, grateful smile. “I’m good,” you said softly. “Really.”

Lily raised a brow. “You will be. Come on. Let’s get you out of the heat before I start sobbing too.”

You laughed again. Gentle and a bit more genuine this time. The two of you heading back toward the villa.

Rounding the corner past the daybeds, you stepped onto the main path leading toward the main patio when your pace slowed—then stopped entirely.

Just a few feet ahead, Sirius and Marlene sat at the edge of the pool with the others.

Close.

Too close.

Her legs were dipped in the water underneath her, his arm lazily draped behind her shoulders. Their heads tipped toward one another, laughing at something you couldn’t hear—but it was loud enough to feel cruel.

They hadn’t seen you yet.

And the worst part?

They looked comfortable. Unbothered. As if they hadn’t just made a choice that could ruin someone’s trust.

Lily instinctively stepped in front of you, as if to block the view.

“Hey,” she said gently, “you don’t need to see—”

But you weren’t moving.

Your body was still, jaw tense, that quiet smile long gone from your face.

You didn’t say a word.

Just stared.

a/n: and that is part two done! I love Marlene but it had to be done

#marauders fic #marauder au #dead gay wizards from the 70s #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #james potter #regulus black #regulus black x reader #lily evans #marlene mckinnon #mary macdonald #reader insert #love island #love island au #enchanthings

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your-local-people-eater · 1 month ago

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AS OF POSTiNG iT iS JUNE 16TH, AKA ...

DRUMROLL PLEASE ...

SAPPH'S BiRTHDAY !!!

THiS iS PRETTY HUGE FOR US, THEY'RE OUR HOST AND ALSO REALLY COOL AND AWESOME

SO !!! EMCEE THiS iS A GiFT FOR YOU !!! HAPPY 27TH YOU LiTTLE FREAK @the-rumor-mill

MOODBOARD + ART BY US, ART BASES FROM PiNTEREST

( ALSO FEEL FREE TO ADD ON TO THiS POST iF YOU LiKE !!! /NF )

#dividers by #enchanthings #dividers by enchanthings #yellow yaps #yellow scribbles #black raisin cookie #black sapphire cookie #black sapphire x black raisin #black raisin x black sapphire #sapphiraisin #sapphireraisin #altair ⛪⛓️ // hx . thy . ix

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gojostan-doodles · 2 months ago

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Local Farmer/ Florist, Amari Vaughn 🩷💐 (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

(visual links are in pink)

As a half demon hybrid, Amari is gifted with immense physical abilities. As a kid, it was very common for her to accidentally break objects since she didn't know her own strength. But her affinity for flowers encouraged her to learn how to be delicate with her hands. During her developmental years, she was discreetly monitored by her parents, who looked for other signs of her having supernatural powers. They were relieved to learn that Amari was as normal as everyone else (for the most part). Because of this, they opted out of telling her that she was half demon, thinking that it would only be a source of stress for her if she knew.

Amari grew up in the city without much trouble. She played a variety of sports while she was in school, but none of them kept her interest for long. She enjoyed taking care of plants, and dreamed of becoming a florist; but found it hard to pursue that kind of work in the city. So for a while, she gave up on the idea.

Amari worked at a joja construction company for about 2 years after graduating highschool. She was good at her job, but her parents noticed that she had lost her cheerful personality. This caused her mother, Dahlia, to remember her old family farm back in Pelican Town, and she decided to officially pass it down to her daughter.

Finally arriving at the dilapidated farm, Amari had her work cut out for her; but she was so excited for her new life that she didn't care. She made a lot of progress fast. But of course, Stardew Valley is a really weird place; so it wasn't long before she encountered the junimos, and later, Rasmodius. The "tea" she drank from the wizard not only gave her the ability to communicate with the junimos, but also unlocked her dormant supernatural abilities. A white streak appeared in her hair, and while in a disoriented state, accidentally set herself ablaze; resulting in her passing out. When she finally wakes up, Rasmodius apologizes, telling her that he'll look into what went wrong and report back to her as soon as he can.

In the meantime, Amari tried to return to her life as a farmer, only to be met with a new set of problems. Inexperienced with her powers, she would accidentally incinerate her own crops (along with many other items). And during full moons, she would undergo a physical transformation, forcing her to stay home. As a result, she didn't socialize much during her first few months in town, and she became anxious.

It was clear by her transformation that she was half demon, but it was later confirmed by Rasmodius. Amari was in denial after learning this. After all, her parents were normal people, right?

Things eventually got better though. With the help of Rasmodius, they figured out that stress (and other extreme emotions) causes her to ignite. Once she became able to control that, everything else fell into place. She became comfortable socializing again, and ended up making several lovely friends in town, some who turned out to be just as odd as her. And a few years later, she married Sebastian, so things were really great for a change.

One night, about a year after their marriage; someone unexpected visited the farm. It was demon named Uruz. Turns out he and a few others where tasked with searching different realms in order to find their King, Lord Wynn; and Uruz's group was tasked with searching the Human Realm. He accidentally found Amari because her energy is the same as Wynn's. But Wynn is her father's name..?

Amari and Uruz quickly realized that they were referring to the same person, and Uruz was ecstatic to learn that he was the first to meet the princess of his realm. Although, he found it strange that she knew nothing about the realm or her powers. Plus she was half human for some reason?

Completely forgetting about his mission, Uruz took it upon himself to become her mentor. Apprehensive at first, Amari eventually agreed after talking it over with Sebastian. She felt like she couldn't rely on her dad to tell her what she wanted to know. So she decided to take this as an opportunity to learn everything, both about herself and the Demon Realm. So for the time being, Amari and Sebastian are secretly housing a demon on their farm.

Since Amari is a hybrid, the abilities and traits she inherited from her dad are a mystery. So when she learns about how long demons usually live, she becomes incredibly anxious about her future. But she tries not to think about it.

#divider by #enchanthings #stardew valley #stardew valley oc #stardew valley farmer #farmer amari #lore city 🌱🌷

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dontlookatme121 · 3 months ago

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i got tagged by @myownwholewildworld in a wip wednesday post over a month ago and i’m finally posting something - thank you for the tag! this is my first time ever posting anything i’ve written so i’m a little nervousss… but this tag felt like a good way to dip my toes in the water, if you will. this is an excerpt from a javier peña angsty one shot(?) that's been sitting half written in gdocs for a while now. it’s loosely inspired by the song i know by fiona apple. we'll see if i ever actually finish this, but for now, heres a little snippet...

For Javier, the most dangerous thing about you wasn’t your ability to take down a grown man in the blink of an eye; it was your perceptiveness. You frightened him because you always knew what was happening inside his head and exactly what to do about it. It was how you tried when no one else did, and the fact that he didn’t deserve your kindness never stopped you from giving it to him.

His obligatory tolerance for you shifted to something much greater after the death of Colonel Carrillo. When you comforted him in silence because you knew it was what he needed. He wrapped his arms around you for the first time that night, holding back tears he refused to shed. You’d already embedded yourself so deeply into his life, and he finally stopped resisting it.

So he’d go to you after a particularly tough day, when he couldn’t sleep and the guilt pressed heavily against his chest. You’d drink a glass of whiskey and smoke more cigarettes than he’d like you to.

Unlike Steve, you never pressed for more than he was willing to give. If his silence bothered you, he couldn’t tell. You didn’t mind letting the quiet linger, like you knew your presence was enough to lessen the ache.

Sometimes you’d share stories of your life before the DEA, sometimes about the things you did as a teenager, sometimes stories you’d heard from the people you met as you moved all around the country. But when you told him things you’d never said out loud before, your regrets, traumas, secrets, he listened like it was the most important thing in the world. Maybe that's why you trusted him as much as he trusted you, because you knew he cared even though he'd never say it out loud.

He didn’t mean to love knowing you, but he did.

well... i hope that didnt suck too bad! thank you for reading <3

npt: @miss-oranje-disco-dancer, @gothcsz, @half-moon16

dividers by: @/enchanthings

#wip wednesday #javier peña #pedro pascal #levs writing #my post #enchanthings #dividers by enchanthings

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birdofwildness · 15 days ago

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⋆°·☁︎Dreambound part 3

⋆°·☁︎Morpheus x underworld princess!reader

Summary::You adjust to the life in the Dreaming — your husband is rather absent.

Warnings::Emotional repression,angst,hints of death

It had been a week.

Seven full days since you had stood before all realms, bound by ancient rites and spoken vows, watched by gods and monsters and dreams alike. A week since the ring had slipped onto your finger ,sealing a fate you hadn’t chosen, and yet had accepted with your chin raised.

You hadn’t expected a love story. You weren’t naïve. But still you had expected something else.

The Dreaming was a realm of wonders for sure. Endless halls that shimmered,huge libraries, skies that changed color with your moods. But it was also strangely empty. Especially in the castle.

You saw your husband only in passing. Always dressed in black, always composed, always distant. If he wasn’t vanishing into the corridors, he was locked away in that great obsidian chamber he called a throne room, speaking to ravens, to ghosts, to nothing at all.And when you did speak it was only ever formalities.

“Good evening.”

“Do you require anything?”

“Sleep well.”

You tried to answer in kind at first. But politeness has a weight to it when it stretches too long, too thin. It becomes a silence all its own.

You’d imagined tension, maybe even resentment. Not absence.

Even when he was in the same room, he felt a thousand miles away. A shadow draped in melancholy, eyes like collapsing stars that never looked at you long enough to leave a mark. Sometimes he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. Not cruelly. Just as though he was afraid of something.

You had been married for seven days.And you had never felt more like a stranger in someone else’s kingdom.

And yet, the strangest part — the one you didn’t say out loud — was that you wanted to know him.

You didn’t understand it, not really. He wasn’t warm. He wasn’t kind. He wasn’t trying. And still, something in you kept drifting toward him.Maybe it was the loneliness in him, quiet and bone-deep, that mirrored your own.

You found yourself hoping, more than once, that he might one day look at you — not through you. Speak to you — not just past you. Maybe even sit beside you, not because the gods demanded it, but because he chose to.

But hope is a dangerous thing for a woman.Still, it refused to die.

Aside from Morpheus — who still treated you like a distant obligation — you had surprisingly built something resembling a life in the Dreaming.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t what you expected when they shoved a ring onto your finger and called it fate. But it was structure.You started building a routine. It was simple, silent and yours.

Every morning, after dressing yourself in whatever soft, flowing thing the attendants insisted on calling “ceremonial comfort,” you left the shared suite through the quieter door — the one Morpheus never used — and let your feet guide you through the endless, shifting corridors.

You knew your destination – the library.

Lucienne was always there, already seated with two cups of tea on a small table between tall shelves. You never asked how she knew you’d come. You never had to.

She greeted you with a nod and a dry, knowing glance. You answered with a raised brow and the smallest of smirks — the kind you reserved for people who didn’t feel the need to ask how you were.

Most mornings, the two of you spoke of books. Sometimes philosophy. Sometimes politics. Once, dreams of cats.It was the closest thing to ease you had in this kingdom.

And though Lucienne never said it aloud, you could tell that she knew you were trying to fit in.

Lucienne didn’t need to ask what was on your mind.She could read it between your pauses, in the way your fingers drummed softly against the teacup, how your eyes wandered the rows of ancient tomes without ever focusing on a single title.

"You seem distracted today," she said, calmly. She never pried. That was something you appreciated.

You lifted your gaze, offering a dry smile. “I’m married now. Isn’t distraction part of the deal?”

Lucienne gave a small breath of amusement and turned a page in the book resting on her knees. “I thought you’d be more curious.”

“About what? My brooding husband, who disappears before I wake up and says five words a day?”

“You’re exaggerating,My Lady. He says at least six.”

You actually laughed — a short, rough sound that surprised you more than it did her.

Lucienne adjusted her glasses and added gently, “He’s trying, in his own way.”

“He could try with words. That’d be refreshing.” you huffed.

There was a pause, filled only by the quiet ticking of some invisible clock.Lucienne’s voice softened. “I know you didn’t ask for this.”

You looked at her then — properly. No sarcasm in your voice this time. “No. But I also didn’t expect to feel like a shadow in my own home.”

Lucienne’s expression didn’t change much, but you saw it — the flicker of sympathy. The kind she didn’t show often.“Give him time,” she said. “He doesn’t know how to be close to people. He barely knows how to be around them.”

You stared into your tea. The steam curled up, delicate and warm.“I don’t need him to be close,” you murmured. “Just... human.”

Lucienne tilted her head thoughtfully. “He’s not human. And he is lonely.” You didn’t respond right away. Just stared at the tea a little longer.

Then, finally you answered.“Yeah. I know the feeling.”

Lucienne rested the book in her lap, adjusting her glasses thoughtfully. She looked at you from the corner of her eye, as though weighing something, then chose a different path entirely.“By the way, did you ever finish The Hollow Sovereign?”

You groaned dramatically. “Unfortunately. Three hundred pages of a guy staring out of windows and making cryptic remarks. Riveting.”

“I happen to think it’s an excellent character study,” Lucienne said evenly. “The way the Sovereign distances himself to keep his realm intact—how much he sacrifices, how utterly alone he is—”

You cut in with a wry smile. “Oh, spare me the tragic martyr speech. He’s a control freak with trust issues who pushes people away and then acts shocked when nobody stays.”

Lucienne’s eyebrows rose. “Or maybe he’s someone burdened by responsibilities you and I couldn’t even begin to understand. Maybe isolation is the only way he knows how to survive.”

You shrugged. “How utterly pathetic. You see too much in him.”

Lucienne narrowed her eyes. “You’re being unfair.”

You shrugged. “I’m being realistic. The whole time, everyone keeps offering him kindness, loyalty, love even—and he builds walls instead of doors. I don’t call that noble. I call that fear. And what about his poor wife? He doesn't even look at her.”

Lucienne’s fingers paused mid-turn of a page. She blinked slowly. “Uhm...Your Majesty,he doesn't have a wife in the story”

Your lips parted, then pressed back together in a tight line. You blinked, once. “Right,” you said flatly. “No wife. Of course.”

Lucienne tilted her head. “I assume you were thinking of someone else?”

You scoffed. “Well, obviously.” You placed your teacup down with deliberate care. “I was talking about—” You paused. There was no salvaging it. “Oh for heaven's sake, yes, I was talking about him — about my husband.”

Lucienne’s mouth twitched ever so slightly, but her eyes stayed patient. “I thought as much.”

You leaned back with a huff, tossing your hands up. “Gods. I can’t believe I just emotionally projected on a fictional man out loud in a library in front of a librarian.”

She folded the book and closed it gently. “It happens more often than you’d think.”

You pointed at her. “That was judgmental and I felt it.” you exhaled sharply, eyes rolling. “Fine. Yes. My husband has the emotional range of a stone statue. Yes, I’m bitter. And yes, apparently I’m now channeling that bitterness through tragic royal protagonists.”

Lucienne gave a thoughtful nod. “At least you’re self-aware.”

“I’d rather be less aware and more married,” you muttered under your breath.She pretended not to hear that one.

You pushed your chair back with a soft scrape, rising to your feet as if the weight of your own commentary had finally exhausted you. “Alright. That’s enough public self-reflection for one morning.”

Lucienne gave a quiet smile. “It was hardly public.”

“Well, you were here,” you said, gathering your shawl with a theatrical flick. “And you count. You're terrifyingly observant.”

“It's part of the job,” she replied mildly.

You turned toward the towering doorway, already mentally preparing yourself for the next social challenge. “I'm going to see how the kingdom’s favorite dysfunctional brothers are doing. With any luck, Cain’s only tried to kill Abel once today.”

Lucienne arched a brow. “They’ve actually been unusually quiet.”

You squinted. “Now that’s alarming.”

You paused in the doorway and turned back, leaning one arm against the stone arch, head tilted. “Thanks for the tea. And the passive-aggressive therapy session.”

Lucienne merely inclined her head. “Any time. And...Your Majesty” You looked over your shoulder.

“You’re not wrong about him. But walls can be dismantled... if someone is willing to keep knocking.”

You exhaled, slowly. The words hit somewhere inconvenient. “Yeah. Next time I'll bring Thor's hammer.”

Lucienne said nothing more. She simply returned to her reading, but the weight of her gaze followed you until you slipped out into the winding halls of the castle once more.

You muttered to yourself as your boots clicked softly against the stone. “Fantastic. I came for tea and left with metaphors.”

...

The winding paths of the Dreaming never looked the same twice.One day they curved like rivers, the next like veins. Today, they straightened just enough to lead you to Cain and Abel’s little patch of madness—past a dead tree that was somehow always blooming, and a mailbox that occasionally barked if you didn’t knock properly.You made sure to knock.

Cain opened the door with his usual dramatic flourish, brow raised like he expected bad news or an apology—possibly both. “Ah. Your Highness.”

Behind him, Abel’s head popped out from behind a curtain, face lighting up. “Your Highness! You’re just in time, we were—Cain was—well, there was tea, before someone knocked it over. And the biscuits—though Cain says they were actually poisoned.”

“They were experiments,” Cain corrected. “Also, possibly cursed.”

You raised both brows. “You two are the definition of hospitality.”

Cain stepped aside, with a dramatic sweep of his arm. “Enter, Princess of Pity.”

You strolled past him like the royal title was official, nodding regally. “Why, thank you, Duke of Delusion.”

The inside of their cottage looked like a library had exploded and been partially stitched back together with bad decisions. Scrolls, books, maps, things in jars—some of which blinked at you.

You took your usual spot on the sagging couch, careful to avoid the corner that had tried to eat your cloak last time.

“Tea or water?” Abel offered hopefully.

“Water,I already had tea. And I’ll take the non-cursed kind,” you said.

Abel brightened. “As you wish.”

Cain muttered, “Asskisser.”

“Anyway,” you sighed, settling in. “Distract me. Please. Pretend I’m not in an arranged marriage with a man who talks less than my fork.”

Cain poured you a glass of water and handed it over. “You knew what you were getting into.”

“No, actually, I didn’t,” you replied,lifting the glass. “I assumed brooding and mysterious had an off-switch. Or at least a personality somewhere under all the silence.”

Abel sat beside you, hands fiddling nervously. “You seem unhappy.”

You paused then smiled, dry and thin. “No. I just had expectations. You know, like maybe my husband would say good morning once in a while without looking like it physically pains him.”

Cain took a loud sip of his tea, eyeing you over the rim. “He’s been like this for eons. You’re not special.”

You smirked. “Thanks for the reality check.”

“But,” Abel added gently, “you might be the first person to ever try anyway.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Not here. You let it stretch, your eyes drifting across the cluttered room—at the frayed books and crooked paintings and Abel’s hopeful little birdhouses lining the windowsill.This was chaos. But at least it was warm.

...

You found Mervyn Pumpkinhead sitting on a crumbling stone wall near the outskirts of the castle, puffing a cigar and looking like the embodiment of 'I don't get paid enough for this.'

Matthew was perched nearby, wings fluffed up against the slight breeze, watching something that may or may not have been real scuttle across the clouds.

“Look who survived another week in the royal mausoleum,” Merv grunted as you approached.

You crossed your arms, raising a brow. “I thought you’d be proud.”

“Of what? That you haven’t snapped and turned him into a toad yet? Sure. Gold star, sweetheart.”

Matthew gave an exaggerated sigh. “Don’t listen to him, he’s been extra grumpy lately. Something about Lucienne reorganizing the storage scrolls.”

“They were in order,” Merv muttered darkly.

You sat down beside them, legs crossed at the ankle, gaze wandering toward the distant towers of the castle. “You know… I’m starting to think he really is made of fog and bad decisions.”

“Boss ain’t that bad,” Matthew said gently. “Just, y’know… emotionally constipated.”

You huffed a laugh. “Charming.”

“He doesn’t hate you, y’know,” Matthew continued, tilting his head. “He’s just… old. Set in his ways. And people—feelings—they’re not something he navigates well.”

Merv grunted. “Understatement of the millennium.”

You stared down at your hands. “He barely talks to me.”

“He doesn’t talk to anyone,” Matthew said. “Well, except Lucienne. And sometimes me. If I pester him enough.”

You glanced up. “So the trick is pestering?”

“No,” Merv chimed in. “The trick is effort. Which, sorry, princess, you haven’t exactly been overflowing with.”

You shot him a look. “Excuse me?”

“Look, I’m not saying it’s your fault,” Merv shrugged, smoke curling from his mouth. “But the guy is made of shadows and regrets. You don’t knock, he’s not opening. That’s just how it is.”

You leaned your hip against the side of the wall, arms crossed. “Right. So it’s on me to keep knocking, even if the door’s clearly sealed shut with ancient cosmic trauma.”

Merv gave you a lopsided grin, ash falling from the end of his cigar. “Now you’re gettin’ it.”

Matthew ruffled his feathers on your shoulder. “I mean, not entirely on you. The boss has his issues, sure. But he also listens, even if it looks like he’s not. You ever notice how he remembers everything?”

You did. It was almost unsettling. You’d mentioned offhandedly once that you liked jasmine tea — and without a word, that’s what had appeared in your cup the next morning. The problem wasn’t inattention. It was distance. Controlled, suffocating distance.

You sighed. “You think I should...what? Bake him a cake? Write him a poem? Casually cry in his general direction until he processes something?”

Matthew squawked a laugh. “God, no. Just... show up. Be around. Let him see you trying.”

“And what if I stop trying and he doesn’t even notice?” you asked, quieter than before. “What if it wouldn’t make a difference?”

Merv’s eyes softened, just for a blink. “Then at least you’ll know you gave a damn. And that counts for something.”

The silence stretched between the three of you. Not heavy, but thoughtful. Merv puffed again, and Matthew stretched one wing.

You straightened up. “Alright. That’s enough emotional vulnerability for one day. I’m off to emotionally pace somewhere dramatically.”

Matthew chuckled as you started walking away. “That’s the spirit.”

“Try not to overthink it,” Merv called after you. “He already does enough of that for the both of you.”

...

It had been a long day.Not dramatically so—just full of small, persistent irritations. Too many polite smiles. Too many glances that lingered a little too long. Too much silence from the one person who technically mattered most.So you went for a walk.

You weren’t looking for him.But as you rounded the edge of the gardens, there he was your husband — Morpheus, sitting alone on a stone bench beneath a slender tree that barely offered shade. Elbows on knees, hands folded, staring out into some distance only he could see.

Your first instinct was to turn around.The second said, no—enough of this.You approached, arms crossed. “Greetings,Dream.”

He looked up. No smile—but no sharpness either. “Greetings”

"What are you looking for?"

“I was seeking quiet.” he answered simply.

“And did you find it?”

He paused for a second before deciding to answer. “Until you arrived.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Charming. Can’t wait to hear your anniversary toast.”

Something in his expression flickered. Not quite a smile—but something almost like appreciation. He shifted to the side slightly, a silent offer. You took the seat beside him, leaving a few respectful inches between.

Neither of you spoke for a moment. The sky above the Dreaming was a strange shade of twilight: too blue to be night, too shadowed to be day.

Then, unexpectedly, he said, “I’ve heard from the others... that you’ve been adapting well.”

You shrugged. “Wasn’t that hard.”

He didn’t respond to that. Just stared straight ahead, fingers flexing slightly in his lap.“And you?” he asked, softly. “How do you find it here?”

You glanced at him, surprised. It was the first time he’d asked you anything that wasn’t a logistical formality.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Sometimes it feels like I’m just... visiting. Like everyone’s being polite because no one actually believes I’ll be here long enough to matter.”

He nodded slowly. “The Dreaming adapts slowly. Not just its inhabitants... the realm itself. But I don’t regret that you’re here.”

That landed heavier than you expected.

You tilted your head. “That’s the longest sentence you’ve said to me since our wedding.”

A ghost of a smile touched the corner of his mouth. Tired and wry. “It may be.”

He was quiet for a moment, then shook his head slightly.“I owe you an apology,” he said. His voice was low, but steady. “I’ve neglected you. Not out of cruelty. Only... because I don’t always know how to begin.”

You didn’t interrupt. You just listened,that seemed to matter.

“I have... responsibilities,” he continued, gaze fixed on the horizon. “Things that weigh heavily, often invisibly. But it isn’t just that. I struggle with this—connection. Conversation. I know it must seem as though I’m pushing you away.”

You let the silence settle a moment before answering. “I get it.”He finally turned to look at you.

“I mean it,” you said, smiling softly. “It’s okay if you’re quiet. Some people just are. The right company doesn’t need noise to be good company.”

His expression didn’t shift much, but there was something different in his eyes now. Less distance and more thoughtfulness.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

You gave a light shrug, teasing. “Well, try not to vanish for another week and we’ll call it progress.”

A breath left him—maybe not quite a laugh, but something warm enough to count.Morpheus sat still for a moment, long fingers resting on his knees as though holding the weight of something unseen. The sky over the Dreaming had shifted into shades of dusky lavender, the castle casting elongated shadows across the quiet grounds. You didn’t say anything at first. You didn’t need to. The silence between you had a shape of its own—wary, tentative, but not unkind.

Finally, his voice broke through it. Low. Careful.“There is something I did not tell you.”

You glanced sideways. “Well, this should be fun.”

He didn’t smile, but he didn’t pull away either.“My brother,” he said quietly. “Destiny.”

You raised a brow. “The one with the big book and zero sense of humor?”

A faint exhale through Morpheus’s nose. Not quite a laugh, but close. “Yes. That one. Some time ago… he spoke of a fall. A great fall. One of the Endless would fall. A king.”

Your heart stilled for a second, breath caught between one moment and the next.He didn’t look at you—just stared ahead into the twilight.

“He did not say who. Only that it would be soon. And final.”

You swallowed. “And you think it’s going to be you.”

“I do,” he said simply. “And if that is true… then there was little point in trying to build something I would not be here to protect. To preserve.”

You didn’t speak right away. There was a dull ache behind your ribs, and for once, it wasn’t just frustration—it was something heavier. Something more fragile.

“That’s not fair,” you said finally, voice quieter. “That’s not your choice to make alone.”

“I did not wish to give you false hope. Or waste what little time you might have in peace.”

You turned toward him fully, searching his face. He looked tired, like the stars themselves had worn him down from the inside out. But beneath the distance, the restraint—there was fear.

“Well,” you said softly, “then I hope Destiny’s wrong.”

He turned to you, and for once, didn’t look away.“And if he’s not?” he asked.

“Then I’ll be at your side when it happens,” you replied, firm but not cold. “ I’ll fight with you.”

Something loosened in his shoulders, just slightly.He tilted his head.

“I do not deserve your loyalty,” he said after a beat, voice softer than you'd ever heard it.

You scoffed lightly. “That’s not really your call, is it?”

A long silence stretched between you. Not cold. Just full of things unsaid. But not forever.“I should return,” he murmured, finally rising to his feet with the slow, unhurried grace of someone carved from shadow and time. “There are matters I must attend.”

You nodded, standing as well, brushing the imaginary dust from your skirts. “Of course. Dream King duties and all that.”

He looked at you again—longer, this time.And then he was gone,but it felt different now. Not like a door closing,but more like the beginning of a hallway finally opening.

#the sandman #the sandman x reader #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #dividers by enchanthings #enchanthings

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rjunhuang · 4 months ago

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song for lovers ✰ peter maximoff

pairing: peter maximoff x reader

summary: headcanons of dating peter.

warnings: lowercase intended. gender neutral reader. mentions of death (jokingly). modern au for like one (1) headcanon.

note: my man my man my man. can't believe i'm posting here again after 2? 4? yrs. my hyperfixation on this man is so intense that i ended up writing a bunch of hcs for him on my notes app.. and where else better than to post here? hope yall fw this

divider by enchanthings | comments & reblogs are appreciated! <3

• peter slows down time a little just to hear your laughter for a few seconds longer.

• he also does it at random moments so he can see you smile. just think: those cliché moments in films where the lovers hold eye contact and time seems to slow down. it would be exactly like that but you'd be blissfully unaware of peter admiring you.

• does the peter + lara jean thing where he slides his hand into the back pocket of your jeans when y'all are walking together.

• hates texting people. he'd just rather zip to their room if he knows they're there. also oddly ominous with his texts and soo blunt. texts you 'sos' so much that you stopped believing it's an emergency. also randomly sends a string of emojis and expects you to understand what he's trying to say.

• i might be projecting but he'd be into traits that aren't 'conventionally attractive': glasses, short hair, not skinny, big noses. and he loves a person with a quirky style.

• "my partner didn't laugh at my joke i hope i die"

• peter would be so obsessed with you. not in a concerning way but every thought resolves around you. with his adhd brain, you're his hyperfixaction. so damn obsessed that the thought of being with anyone else is near impossible.

• that's why him cheating on you would NEVER happen. he worships you. down freaking bad. brings you up in every conversation. would wear those 'i love my partner' tees.

• i know i'm really skipping ahead here but marrying peter maximoff would be far from traditional. the music would be bomb, his suit would be formal enough.. but he'd most definitely add his own quicksilver touch to it! he would walk down the aisle WITH you. his face so smug and probably dancing to whatever catchy (yet secretly meaningful) song you two picked with your arm in his. it's two best friends in love, a partnership.

#peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #imagine #x reader #reader insert #fanfic #evan peters #x men #quicksilver x y/n #quicksilver x you #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver #enchanthings #— rika's works.

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christianmusicblog · 5 months ago

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Christian Music Blog ♡

Hey there! I created this blog because I love Jesus Christ and music. I wanted to create something to share Christian music I enjoy, and discover what yall are into as well.

Here are some things to expect:

• I like many different genres, so this blog is open to more than the standard CCM. Expect music of genres ranging from pop, indie, r&b, rock, rap, to so much more!

• I will also include songs in different languages, but will mainly be in English & Spanish as that is what I understand.

• Got a song you would like to recommend, or wanna just talk? Great! Just submit/ask :)

• Occasional reblogs

• Prayer requests welcome 🙏

Note: Although this is a Christian faith based blog, all those with different beliefs are welcome. Just please be respectful. To add to this note, all are welcome, period.

*side blog*

✨️ GOD BLESS ✨️

#Yahweh #Yeshua #Jesus Christ #christianity #christian blog #christian #christian music #christian tumblr #divider:#enchanthings

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kana-daydreams · 5 months ago

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𐙚 kana | ꒰ zoro's wildflower ꒱

— adult . novice fanfic writer . occasionally writes

— about

⊹ multifandom + sfw/suggestive fem!oriented content

⊹ sporadic posts

⊹ requests ✘ suggestions ✓

⊹ status: hiatus

— nav.

♥︎ tags ノ library ノ muses

꒰ 𐙚 masterlists ꒱

op . kny . jjk . wbrk . misc

꒰ 𐙚 links ꒱

quotev . ao3 . wattpad

— recent works

❝punishment by tickles❞ ft. gojo satoru

❝hide 'n seek❞ ft. shinazugawa sanemi

❝if you were a fruit❞ ft. roronoa zoro

❝food fight❞ ft. monkey d. luffy

#𓇻 kana's navi #𓇻 kana's masterlists #dividers by bunnysrph #and #enchanthings

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hambiichu · 3 months ago

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Jealously

Sumarry: Sherlock Holmes never show jealously up until now.

Divider by @/enchanthings-a

Sherlock Holmes was never one to indulge in jealousy. He often admitted that he was a highly calculated individual, preferring to manage his own emotions rather than seeking assistance—even from those closest to him. His stoicism was a defining trait; he rarely showed his feelings openly. Yet beneath that composed exterior, he harbored a deep affection for you. When he attempted to express his love, it often came off as awkward or stilted, as if the very act of sharing his emotions challenged his carefully crafted demeanor.

One day, however, everything changed. Sherlock noticed you at work, engaged in a seemingly light-hearted flirtation with a coworker. You had assured him countless times that these interactions were innocuous, mere banter among colleagues. Yet, to Sherlock, they represented a potential threat—a toxic presence that loomed over the relationship you both shared.

As you stepped away to retrieve some important documents from your office, a wave of unease washed over him. Sherlock knew he had to confront the situation head-on. As you left the room, he strode purposefully toward your coworker, his expression a calculated blend of calm and composure. It was a facade; while his smile was polite and carefully crafted, his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil: they were narrowed and twitching, betraying the irritation and anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

“Can I help you?” the coworker inquired, glancing up from the paperwork he had been poring over. He seemed oblivious to the tension in the air. “If so, please do say,” he added, a hint of nonchalance in his tone as if he were unaware of the storm brewing in the depths of Sherlock's gaze.

“Oh, yes!” Sherlock exclaimed, a smile creeping across his face but quickly morphing into a thin line as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Would you mind if I analyze you?”

“I—what?” The coworker blinked in astonishment, his expression one of utter disbelief. Before he could gather his thoughts, Sherlock dove right into his analysis, his words flowing rapidly as if he were spouting secrets from the very depths of the man's soul. Sherlock was reveling in this — after all, he harbored a profound disdain for this man who had been flirting with you.

“I must say,” Sherlock continued, a teasing glint in his eyes, “I notice you have a small stain on your collar, and is that a faint lipstick smudge? Ah, yes. You’re married, with three kids, no less? What a shame to be carrying on an affair. Is that a hotel booking I spied on your desk? Bringing your dalliance to a hotel for, shall we say, some ‘naughty’ activities?” He leaned in closer, the smirk on his lips growing more pronounced. “As I analyze, it seems you’ve never really held your wife’s hand or kissed her goodbye. Instead, it’s your mistress you’re eager to touch.”

The coworker swallowed hard, his face draining of color as he stammered, “Please, don’t tell my wife. I’d do anything to keep this from her!”

“Anything?” Sherlock enunciated slowly, letting the word hang between them. Then he added your name, clenching his jaw as he did so. “Here’s my recommendation: stay away from her. If you continue to flirt with her, I suggest you pack your things and leave London, unless you’d prefer to have your affair exposed. Yes?”

The man nodded vigorously, fear etched across his features. With trembling hands, he gathered his papers and hurried away, retreating upstairs to the second floor as though he were fleeing to his boss for cover.

When you returned, Sherlock turned his attention to you, a slight smile gracing his lips. He leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on your cheek. “How’s work?”

“Work? Sherlock, what are you doing here?” you asked, chuckling at the unexpected appearance. “And where’s my coworker?”

“Oh, he’s busy,” Sherlock shrugged nonchalantly. “Up on the second floor retrieving documents, I suppose. Nothing to worry about.”

“Oh?” You laughed lightly, holding up a document clipped on your clipboard. “That’s a shame; I was supposed to give him this as well.”

Sherlock nodded, his expression shifting as he deftly redirected the conversation. “Indeed, a shame. Anyway, I’ve booked a movie that you always love. Would you like to go see it after work?”

“Do I? Yes!” you replied, a genuine excitement lighting up your face. Sherlock bestowed another quick kiss on your cheek.

“Wonderful,” he said, taking your hand into his, the warmth of his touch adding to your delight as you both prepared to return to your day.

If you prefer to read at ao3

#jealous sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock x y/n #bbc sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock #jealous sherlock #my writtings #my writing #bbc sherlock x female reader #drabble #short #short story #dividers by enchanthings #enchanthings

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moontear223 · 15 days ago

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𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚

marauder era characters x fem!reader love island au

Summary: What do you get when you mix tattoos, banter, and magical motorbikes? It's just the first night in the villa, there’s flirting, chaos, and shirtless drama. With some suspiciously hot confessions already brewing.

Warnings: reality TV setting, ensemble cast dynamics, adult language, sexual innuendos, mild alcohol mentions, emotional vulnerability, light romantic tension, flirtation, shared bed (non-explicit), sirius being a shameless flirt, slow-burn hints, found family vibes, soft boy remus, casual intimacy, suggestive banter, chaos & comedy, magical realism, brief mention of soul ties (in a joke context), mutual pining energy, strong female friendships.

a/n: we're just getting started! kinda freaking out tbh, I hope you guys like it <3

series masterlist

The sun hung high in a cloudless sky, casting a golden haze over the villa perched a few steps away from the beach. All whitewashed walls and smooth marble surfaces, it shimmered like a mirage—elegant, open, and just remote enough to feel like the rest of the world had vanished. The infinity pool sparkled a shade of blue so vibrant it looked surreal, its glassy surface melting into the endless horizon of the sea and sky. Lush greenery framed the scene: deep green palms, bursts of tropical flowers, and winding vines that softened the villa’s clean lines with the wildness of nature. A perfect setting for a summer of romance, it was the kind of place where you could lose your wand and your dignity in the same afternoon. And honestly? No one would blame you.

To kick things off this season, the islanders have officially arrived at the villa. An intense redhead with waves cascading down her back met you halfway down the entrance, pulling you into a hug. “Hi!! I'm Lily.”

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

Just beyond the girls, a chilled bottle of champagne rested in an ice bucket, flanked by delicate glasses engraved with your names—a small but perfect touch that invited a swirl of nervous excitement and electric anticipation.

“Shall we?” Lily asked, already reaching for the bottle.

“Yes, please!”

The cork popped with a satisfying snap, and she expertly poured the bubbling liquid into your glasses. “Cheers to hot-ass men, new friendships, and memories we’ll be laughing about for years to come,” she declared, raising her glass.

“Yes! Oh my goodness,” you laughed, clinking glasses as a fizzy warmth spread through your chest—partly from the champagne, mostly from the thrill of it all.

“Alright, serious question,” Lily said, turning you with a glint in her eye. “Are you the heartbreaker or the one who falls too fast?”

You grinned. “Depends who’s asking and how cute he is.”

Lily threw her head back, laughing. “We’re gonna get along so well.”

Heeled footsteps clicked against the sun-warmed marble, and a breezy voice called out from behind you. “Am I late or just perfectly dramatic?”

You and Lily turned to see a girl in a gorgeous dress whilst adorned with jewellery, a smile that shone so bright. “Mary,” she said, introducing herself with a lazy twirl. “And before anyone asks—yes, I already snooped through the villa and yes, I fully plan to make bad decisions.”

“Perfect,” you said, holding out the champagne. “You’re one of us.”

“Oh, thank god.” She clinked her glass with yours and Lily’s. “Now, who do I flirt with to get a refill?”

“Honestly?” you teased. “Probably me.”

That earned another burst of laughter, the kind that made your chest buzz and your cheeks ache. The air was thick with sun, champagne bubbles, and the kind of conversation that felt just a little bit dangerous. The boys hadn’t even shown up yet, but somehow, the game had already begun.

But before it could really begin, one last girl stepped onto the patio—and she’s not here to mess around.

Marlene wore a two-piece set colour of moonlight, showing just enough skin to turn heads without trying too hard. Silver rings stacked on nearly every finger, catching the light as she pushed her sunglasses up into her hair. And that smirk? It said one thing loud and clear: she already decided she was the hottest one here.

“If any of them start talking about star signs,” she said cooly, “I’m walking straight into the sea.”

Lily laughed as she reached for the bottle. “Let me guess—Scorpio?”

“Worse,” Mary said before the girl could answer. “Sagittarius.”

You let out a dramatic gasp. “A flight risk”

Marlene raised her glass toward you, her smile sharp and playful. “Exactly. Try to keep up.”

By now, the girls had made themselves at home under the evening sky, lounging on the couch, glasses still in hand, and laughter rolling as easily as the waves below. The conversation had drifted, as it always did, to the boys. Or rather, to the idea of them.

“Someone tall, someone fit, someone mildly emotionally unavailable,” Mary had said with a grin.

“A good flirt.” Marlene added. “And not afraid of a little attitude.”

Lily, ever the romantic, shrugged. “I just want someone who’ll make me laugh and mean it.”

It was light and playful—but there was something in the air, an unspoken feeling. You were all here for something. Or someone.

Then, the villa doors opened.

Fleur Delacour stepped out like she’d been conjured from a magazine spread. Her white satin dress hugged her in all the right places, with hair pinned back by golden jewellery. “Bonjour, girls,” she greeted with that honeyed french accent. “You look radiant already.”

You all sat up a little straighter.

“I hope you’re all ready,” she continued, her blue eyes sparkling, “because it’s time to meet the boys.”

Cheers and half-nervous whoops followed as Fleur turned on her heels. “Please, join me at the firepit.”

Glasses were set down, dresses adjusted, and in a rush of laughter and nerves, the four of you followed her to the circular fire pit, low-set with plush cushions and surrounded by flickering candles that danced even in the evening breeze. Conversation flowed as you sat down, the girls casually sharing with Fleur the kind of connections they were hoping for: banter, chemistry, maybe something real if the stars aligned.

You didn’t have to wait long.

You heard them before you saw them.

Footsteps. Low voices. A bit of shoving. Then—a loud cheer, all swagger and excitement.

You caught bits of their interactions as they approached, voices carrying across the patio.

“Mate, this place is unreal.”

“Oi, look at them…”

“Alright, alright. Game faces on.”

Their energy hit you all at once—tall silhouettes, sunlit skin, champagne flutes in hand. And then came the greetings, loose and confident.

“Hey, how y’all doing?”

“Ladies!”

“Pleasure to meet you guys.”

“You all look beautiful.”

The boys were glowing with charm and nerves masked by cocky smiles. You exchanged glances with the girls, all silently thinking the same thing: Game. On.

Once the greetings had passed and the boys took their seats on the opposite side of the fire pit, Fleur stepped forward, her expression warm but sly. As if she already knew what chaos was about to unfold.

“All right, ladies,” she said, “I’m excited to introduce you to the boys.”

She gestured beside her to the first guy—all curls and charm, his grin so wide it nearly reached his eyes. “Here we have James.”

“Hi, James,” you all said in unison, a bit too enthusiastically. He beamed, clearly living for the attention. His arms rested across his thick thighs, and you could practically see his ego inflate like a balloon.

Fleur moved on with a small smile. “And next—”

Leaning back with a lazy confidence, tousled black hair falling perfectly out of place, tattoos peeking from under his open shirt, and a few silver rings glinting on his fingers. The second boy looked deliciously dangerous.

“Sirius.”

He gave a wink that was probably practised and a grin that was probably dangerous. “Ladies.”

Someone—probably Mary—muttered “Oh no,” under her breath. Already clocking the red flag energy, and yet no one looked away.

Fleur moved onto the third boy, sitting a little more reserved than the rest, but with something warm behind his quiet smile. “This is Remus.”

He raised the champagne flute slightly, clutching the glass a little too tightly with the other hand stuffed in his pocket. He looked like someone who read more than he spoke—soft brown eyes, faint scars along his jawline, and a presence that felt calm in the middle of chaos.

“Hey, Remus.” The girls waved, small giggles escaping them. Lily gave him a sweet small and he returned it instantly, relaxing just a bit.

Then Fleur turned to the last boy. “And finally we have Regulus.”

Regulus didn’t say much. He didn’t have to. Where the boys, particularly Sirius and James, leaned into charm, but Regulus radiated mystery. He nodded once, sharp jaw, sharp eyes, everything about him too cool. Too clean. Like he had a secret and no plans to tell it.

His dark curls were perfectly in place, a silver necklace resting at the base of his throat, rings adorned on long fingers. He didn’t smile—but his eyes lingered.

Just a moment too long.

On you.

“Hi Regulus,” you said, matching his calm with a soft smile.

He returned it, with a slight cock of his head, saying nothing but somehow still speaking volumes.

Fleur stood up, her heels clicking softly against the wood. “Now that you’ve all met,” she said, “let’s break the ice, non?”

There were a few cheers, a couple groans, and one dramatic sigh from Marlene.

“It’s simple,” Fleur continued with a playful smile. “We’re gonna play a game where you get to kiss each other first and see if you’re compatible, before you make your decision who you’d like to couple up with.”

“Oh no,” James laughed, rubbing his hand together. “Here we go.”

The instructions were clear, the islanders must crack open the ice cubes to retrieve a card containing a question. Which they must answer by choosing someone to kiss. Sirius stood first, with the kind of cocky swagger that said he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment. He took the pickaxe with a twirl, grinning like he was about to cause a scene.

Because he was.

“Oh, he’s loving this,” you muttered with a playful eye roll.

He cracked open the ice with a dramatic swing, peeled the dripping card out, and read it aloud. “Kiss the islander you think gives off golden retriever energy.”

James was already pointing at himself. “It’s obviously me.”

“Unfortunately,” Sirius drawled, walking straight over to him.

Then—with zero hesitation, he grabbed James by the face and kissed him fully on the mouth, it was loud and obnoxious, full of too much tongue and no shame.

The girls screamed.

“Too much!!” Marlene shouted, howling.

James wiped his mouth, laughing so hard he choked. “You’re such a menace.”

“I’ve got layers,” Sirius said, smug as hell, sitting back down.

Next up was Lily.

She took the pickaxe with a slightly anxious smile, then cracked the ice with a surprising amount of strength. She picked her card and read it with a groan. “Kiss the islander you’re most intimidated by.”

You could see her think. And then she adjusted her dress, and headed toward Regulus. Everyone all watched like it was a horror film. Lily stopped in front of him, placed a hand lightly on his shoulder—and kissed him. Slow. Like she wanted to test him. Regulus kissed her back just as slowly, his hand ghosting over her waist for a second before pulling away.

The silence was deafening.

“Well,” Mary said, fanning herself. “That happened.”

Lily walked back to her seat like nothing had happened, lips just slightly swollen. “I said what I said.”

“More like you let your lips do the talking!” You let out a laugh, the group following closely behind and a few hollers from the boys.

Remus was next, slightly flushed but still playing it cool. He swung with a clean hit, pulled out the card and read. “Kiss the islander you think would be the best cuddler.”

There was a pause. Then his eyes flicked to you.

You didn’t even blink—you just watched him walk toward you, calm and collected. He bent down slightly, and before you could overthink it, he kissed you. Warm and slow, lips pressing against yours like it was familiar, even though it wasn’t. Not yet.

When he pulled away, his hand brushed your knee lightly. A promise.

You tried to breathe normally. And failed.

Marlene was already marching up, cracking the ice like it owed her money. She grabbed the card, read it aloud. “Kiss two islanders you think give off green flag vibes.”

She barely paused. First, she walked up to Remus and kissed him properly, her hand gripping his shirt. Soft, but thorough. He blinked when she pulled away.

Then she spun, grabbed Mary by the face, and kissed her. Not a peck. A kiss. Lips parted, messy and sudden, and Mary made a small surprised noise before melting into it.

“Oh my God.” Lily gasped, covering her mouth.

When Marlene pulled away, she shrugged. “Just had to confirm a theory.”

Mary blinked. “And?”

“You passed.”

James was next, practically vibrating with chaotic energy. He cracked his ice, read the card. “Kiss the islander that looks like a heartbreaker.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows.

James scanned the group, and then landed on Marlene.

He crossed the circle slowly, dramatically, and then kissed her full on. It was all fire and flirt, her hand tangling in his curls for a moment before she pulled away with a smirk. “Bit soft, James,” she teased, licking her lips.

“Noted,” he said, dazed.

It was your turn now.

You stood slowly, suddenly very aware of four different boys watching you with varying degrees of intent. You cracked the piece, peeled out the card, and nearly choked on your spit. “Kiss the islander who first caught your eye.”

A pause. The air thickened.

You looked at James, flushed and smiling.

Then to Sirius, who raised a brow with a challenge.

Remus, still gentle but quiet.

And Regulus. Who hadn’t moved. Still lounging, still watching you like he knew what you were going to do.

So you did.

You walked over to Regulus. He sat up a little straighter when you reached him. There was a beat—a second where your eyes locked. And then you kissed him.

Hard.

No hesitation. His hand slid around your waist, and his mouth moved with yours, deepening it instantly. It was a kiss that felt like being dragged underwater. Intense, magnetic, and completely, absolutely not innocent.

By the time you pulled away, the air felt ten degrees hotter. He leaned in, just enough for you to hear him murmur.

“You’re trouble.”

You smiled. “You have no idea.”

The game ended with flushed faces, lingering touches, and a tension that didn’t quite break. It just shifted. A few more had kisses ensued—Lily kissed James. Mary went soft and sweet with Remus. Regulus in his chaotic fashion, surprised everyone by kissing James. And Marlene? She kissed you.

As the islanders settled back into their seats, everyone tried to act cool, but the vibe had changed. Glances had a weight now.

You caught Sirius watching you with his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowed. Not in anger, but curiosity. Maybe even a little challenge.

Remus barely looked at Regulus, but you noticed the way his knee bounced, restless. And when he did glance your way, it was soft. Thoughtful. Like he wasn’t done figuring you out.

Meanwhile, Mary was still pink from Marlene’s surprise kiss, brushing her fingers over her lips absently. Marlene didn’t seem bothered—in fact, she looked very pleased with herself, sprawled out like she owned the villa already.

The kisses were still tingling on everyone’s lips when Fleur, who’d been leaning on the back-rest the whole time, laughed whilst fanning herself with a cue card. “Mon dieu, that was spicy,” she said, flicking a pretend beat of sweat from her temple. “I feel like I need a cold shower—and I’m only the host.”

The group chuckled; no one really relaxed.

“Well,” Fleur went on, still lazily wafting her card. “There’s only one way to cool things down, or heat them up, depending on your choices. It’s time for the first coupling ceremony!”

She pointed her card at the boys. “Messieurs, please line up on your hearts. Girls, please stand by me. The rules are simple, oui?”

The islanders moved into place, the evening warmth humming with anticipation.

“Here are the rules,” Fleur continued, twirling her card between elegant fingers. “Each boy is standing on his own heart. When I give the signal, you girls will walk to the boy you’d like to couple up with. You can choose based on anything you like—a kiss, a vibe, or just those arms.” She wiggled her eyebrows toward James, earning a cheeky grin from him as he flexed playfully. Rousing a few teasing shouts from the rest of the boys.

“But beware,” she added, her voice lilting with excitement, “if more than one of you stands on a heart, the boy will choose which of you he wants to couple up with. So choose wisely.”

Fleur paused for effect, letting the tension hang in the air like thick summer heat.

“You may begin, ladies.”

There was a moment of hesitation. A nervous giggle. Then—collectively, all four girls stepped forward.

Lily was the first to move with purpose, heading directly to Regulus. He didn’t react much, but something about the way his posture subtly relaxed said he was pleased. She stood tall next to him, eyes steady.

Mary glanced briefly at the others, then made her way to Remus, quiet but confident. He blinked, a little surprised. But the small smile that bloomed on his face was genuine.

Marlene, ever the showstopper, took her sweet time with every deliberate step. She let her gaze linger on James, a slow, teasing wink parting her lips, but just as quickly she shifted her attention. With a sly smile that promised more than just flirtation, she stepped onto Sirius’s heart. The room’s energy shifted instantly, causing a ripple of tension and intrigue spreading like wildfire.

Fleur gasped dramatically, fanning herself once more. “Oh là là! A double trouble situation already?” She exclaimed, thoroughly entertained. “Marlene, you tease! What’s this about?”

Marlene threw a smirk, her voice low and teasing. “He looked like trouble, the kind that’s too tempting to resist. Besides, I like a challenge. Especially that comes with a bit of fire.”

Fleur turned to you next, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “And you, ma chérie?”

You took a breath, feeling the weight of the moment as all eyes subtly moved onto you. “To be frank, it was a gut feeling—something I can’t quite explain. There’s an edge to him, the exact kind of trouble you know might just be worth it.”

You glanced briefly at Sirius, the jacket draped over his shoulders and the confident way he held himself. “And maybe the leather,” you added with a small laugh, “because who doesn’t love a bit of danger wrapped in style?”

Sirius threw his head back and laughed, the sound rich and unapologetic. “Well, can you blame them? I’d have trouble choosing too.” His eyes flicked between you and Marlene, a spark of mischief lighting up in his gaze.

Fleur stepped in, waving her card with a flourish. “Sirius. It’s your decision.”

Your pulse quickened, but you kept your cool as Sirius hesitated, a rare flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. “You’re both incredible,” he admitted, voice low and sincere, “this is downright cruel.”

Then, with a grin that could set the villa ablaze, he held out his hand to you. “But if I have to choose…”

“Come here, sweetheart.” His words were smooth, full of promise, and impossible to resist.

Your cheeks flushed, but you stepped forward and took it, the electricity between you undeniable. Marlene simply shrugged with a light laugh and spun on her heel, strutting straight back to James.

He welcomed her with a playful bow and a smirk that said he knew she’d be back.

Fleur clapped once. “And there we have it! Our first four couples!”

The islanders broke into cheers, whistling and clapping as the final pairings stood side by side.

She gestured grandly. “Mary and Remus. Lily and Regulus. Marlene and James. And of course—Y/N and Sirius.”

“Islanders,” she continued, “you’ll now live together, sleep together, laugh together and maybe fall in love together.”

The group cheered again. Fleur leaned in, voice conspiratorial. “And six weeks from now, the public will vote for their favourite couple, and the winners will take home 10,000 galleons.”

Another wave of cheer broke out. Sirius whistled loudly to the sky.

“But don’t get too comfortable,” she warned. “This is Love Island. Twists will come faster than you think.”

James muttered, “Bloody hell,” under his breath, making Marlene snort.

Fleur smiled, stepping away with one final wave. “Enjoy your first night, lovers. Au revoir!”

As she strolled off, hips swaying, the group erupted into buzzed chatter and laughter. The islanders began exploring the villa with their cheeks flushed, energy high. Before, there was a charged stillness, something different from when you’d first walked in hours ago. But now? You had a partner, at least in theory. Everything you said or did might mean something.

The others were already beginning to spread out, out exploring the space with lazy curiosity. “Alright,” Sirius muttered beside you, his voice low and amused. “I see the producers had an interesting budget.”

You giggled, following his gaze to the floating staircase with a grin, his hands were shoved deep in his pockets like he was trying very hard not to throw himself across one of the velvet couches just for the drama of it. He looked like he belonged here, somehow—like this kind of glittering, indulgent atmosphere suited him.

To your right, just past the living area, there was a long hallway that opened a bedroom that was bright and pastel, the walls soft and cream, beds lined up side by side with barely enough space between them to breathe. Remus lingered in the doorway beside Lily, eyes scanning the bed thoughtfully. “This is either intimacy or a social experiment. Possibly both.”

Mary smiled, trying not to let the nerves settle in her stomach. “Do you snore, Remus?”

He just raised an eyebrow and replied. “Not loud enough to warn anyone.”

Further down the hall, Marlene had discovered a nook tucked between two archways. A low, round bed draped in gauzy fabric, surrounded by soft cushions and scattered rose petals that were clearly placed with intention. “Oh, this is ridiculous,” you breathed, grinning. “It’s like they made a shrine for emotional unravelling.”

Regulus stopped at the edge of the bed, arms folded, dark brows slightly lifted. “If anyone pulls me here, I’m leaving the villa.”

“You’d love it,” Marlene called from across the room, already perched on a chaise near the row of hanging plants. “It’ll give ‘tell me your deepest fears and then kiss me about it’”

“Exactly.” Regulus said flatly, and turned away.

| Confessional — Y/N "You want my honest opinion? [Shaking her head with a smirk] “This place is like if the Yule Ball and the Ministry’s annual gala had a love child—after one too many Firewhiskeys and zero restraint.”

At the edge of the bedroom, the glass walls gave way to the upstairs terrace. You opened them carefully, feeling the evening air shift cooler around you and the others close by. It was slightly smaller than you expected, only just one large couch with cushions but the view stretched far. The sea was barely visible under the night sky, only reason why you could see it was for the fairy lights that strung overhead, soft and promising.

It was quiet up here. A space meant for two. Maybe less about the conversations you had and more about how you looked at each other in the silence between them. As the others dispersed, it’s where you and Sirius slipped away quietly.

“So,” he said, voice low and lazy. “What’s your type? Besides tall, devastatingly handsome men with slightly questionable reputations.”

You laughed. “Honestly? Someone who doesn’t freak out if I get emotional. Who makes me laugh without trying. And tattoos are a massive bonus.”

He smirked. “Well. I’ve got tattoos. Still working on the emotional availability bit.”

You raised a brow. “Oh? Is that a warning?”

“More like full disclosure,” he shrugged, grinning. “I work in both worlds. I breed magical motorbikes—big business actually. But I bartend in the Muggle world too. Pays tips and phone numbers.”

You gave him a playful smirk. “So you’re good with your hands and your words.”

“Very,” he said, voice dropping just slightly.

You raised a brow, equal parts amused and intrigued. “Cocky.”

“Confident,” he corrected, lazily. “But don’t change the subject. You know what I do—now it’s your turn. What’s the day job?”

You leaned back, letting your fingers trail along the rim of the couch. “Why? So you can decide if I’m girlfriend material or not?”

Sirius laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. “Bit late for that. You already passed the tattoo test.”

You tilted your head. “Alright, fine. I work in the Ministry.”

His nose crinkled, mock-dramatic. “Merlin. Please don’t say Magical Law Enforcement.”

“Worse,” you said, lips twitching. “Magical Policy Advisor.”

Sirius blinked, then gave a low whistle. “Bloody hell. What’s that mean—lots of paperwork and telling people what not to do?”

“Basically,” you said sweetly. “Except instead of only telling people what not to do, I fight for those who need better rules in the first place.”

That made him pause, eyebrows lifting just slightly with curiosity.

You continued, voice steady. “I work with communities the Ministry tends to overlook. Werewolves, for one. Or magical families who live mostly Muggle-adjacent and get caught in the gaps. I make sure legislation doesn't just punish them for existing.”

His gaze sharpened. Not in a dangerous way—but like you'd said something unexpected, something real.

“Werewolves?” he said slowly.

You nodded. “They're constantly getting shafted by outdated laws. No protections, no employment support, no real housing access. I'm not saying I can fix it overnight, but... someone has to start somewhere.”

Sirius was quiet for a moment, watching you with something more than amusement now.

“You know,” he said finally, “I’ve known a lot of people who talk about change. You actually sound like you’re doing it.”

You offered a small smile, looking down in a slight shrug. “I try.”

A smile tugged at his mouth, softer this time. “That’s kind of mad impressive.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You really think Ministry work is impressive?”

“Yours is,” he said without missing a beat. Then, after a pause: “Also pretty damn hot, in a morally-upstanding, save-the-world kind of way.”

You laughed. “Glad to know my ethical code is pulling.”

Something shifted behind his eyes, the mischief easing just slightly. “That sounds like real work. Like, proper responsibility.”

You nodded. “It is. Someone’s got to keep things from falling apart.”

A beat of silence settled. Not awkward. Just full.

Sirius looked at you in that way he sometimes did, like he wasn’t just seeing you but reading you. “You ever get tired of being the one holding it all together?”

The question caught you off guard. Not in a bad way. Just in the kind of way that made your chest tighten. You hesitated, then said softly, “Sometimes. But I like knowing I can. That it matters.”

Sirius nodded once, slowly. “Yeah. I get that.”

And for a second, the air between you felt different—quieter. A little heavier. Like maybe there was something here that wasn’t just flirting in the dark.

Then he bumped his shoulder into yours, light as anything. “Still think I could get you to sneak off work for a ride on my motorbike, though.”

You laughed, and the moment broke gently, like waves smoothing over stone.

“We’ll see,” you said, voice teasing. “Depends if it’s street legal.”

“Oh, it’s not,” he said, grinning. “But I know a few policy loopholes.”

| Confessional — Sirius [He leans back in the chair, arms stretched behind his head with a lazy smile.] “Yeah, alright, I’m in trouble. She’s got that whole brains-and-bite thing going on, and I’m just sitting there trying not to look too impressed. Which I obviously failed at.” [He grins] "She works in magical policy—like, proper Ministry brainpower. And I’m here talking about bartending and bike parts—but somehow, she doesn’t make me feel like a joke. She makes me want to keep up.”

James shouted from somewhere in the villa. “Oi, who put a soul ties daybed in here?”

A beat of silence. Then:

“Do I need consent to sit on it?”

Lily burst out laughing, doubled over with a wheeze. “You definitely do.”

She wandered off, still grinning, and found herself in a softly lit spa room. Steam curled through the air, and shelves were lined with soft glowing potion bottles. Marlene drifted in after her, arms crossed and eyes sharp with mischief.

“Calming draught or love potion?” she whispered.

The girls shared a look—equal parts suspicion and delight.

“We’ll never know.” Lily murmured, reaching out to inspect a bottle that shimmered like opal.

Meanwhile, outside, the mayhem faded into soft background noise. Mary sat curled up on a lounge chair, legs tucked beneath her like a cat soaking up the sun. Remus joined her quietly, his hands folded in his lap, posture open but calm. There was something about him that made the moment feel slower. Steadier.

“You don’t look like someone who enjoys chaos,” Mary said, voice low, teasing.

“I don’t.” Remus replied. “But I survive it.”

She smiled, nodding like she understood more than he expected. “That’s fair. What do you do?”

“I work with a few advocacy groups—mostly around werewolf rights, but also improving access to magical mental health services. There's a lot of overlap.” He paused, then added more gently. “And in the Muggle world... I teach literature. Helps keep me grounded. Bit of a nerd, really.”

Mary’s eyes lit up, warmth spreading across her face. “That’s kind of perfect.”

He raised a brow, faintly amused. “Is it?”

“I think so,” she said, shifting slightly closer. “I’m a Muggle nurse. Training to be a midwife. I volunteer at St. Mungo’s when I can—usually in the trauma wing.”

Remus tilted his head, visibly impressed. “That’s incredible. You must be insanely patient.”

She laughed softly. “Only when I like someone.”

He didn’t reply at first, but the glance he gave her was unmistakably fond. Maybe even a little bit hopeful.

| Confessional — Remus [He sits in the beach hut, cameras rolling and a voice soft but certain.] “I didn’t expect her to get me. But she did. Right away. She’s got this calm... like she understands things without needing the whole story.” [He exhales a quiet laugh.] “Feels rare. And kind of like I don’t have to explain myself for once.”

The night was approaching fast, the stars twinkling as the islanders got ready for bed. In the glam rooms, the girls huddled together in front of the floating mirrors, makeup wipes and skincare preparing them for some sleep after a well-earned, chaotic evening.

“So… who’s getting lucky tonight?” Marlene teased, tugging an eclectic from her wrist.

“Absolutely not,” Lily shot back, grinning as she twisted her red hair into a messy bun. “But I’m sleeping cute, just in case I get any cheeky cuddles.”

The remark drew a ripple of laughter. You dabbed moisturiser onto your cheeks, heat still lingering there. “Seriously though, first impressions?”

Marlene was the first to chime in, smirking as she tugged at her lashes with a wipe. “James has main character energy. Borderline insufferable. I'm kind of all here for it.”

Mary snorted softly. “He definitely has that charm, I’ll give him that. But Remus? He caught me off guard.” She smiled, a flicker of something thoughtful in her eyes. “He’s the kind of quiet that makes you lean in, like he’s storing up something worth hearing. And when he does talk, it’s unexpectedly funny—like a secret joke just for you. Plus, He teaches literature… which makes him nerdy in the best way.”

“Ahh, I’m ecstatic for you Mary! You two looked adorable,” you said, brushing lip balm over your lips. “Proper slow-burn potential.”

“Smart and sweet.” Lily cooed. “A perfectly combination, trust me.”

Marlene sighed dramatically. “They’re all hot. I hate it here.”

“No you don’t.” You teased, flashing her a look. Marlene, in her satin shorts and untamed waves, was the walking definition of dangerously charismatic.

She grinned, something reckless in her eyes. “Fine, I don’t.”

“What about you, Y/N?” Mary nudged, eyebrow raised. “Sharing a bed with Sirius, how’s that for a night.”

You hesitated, fingers pausing mid-swipe of serum. “He’s charming. Like, ridiculously charming. But sometimes I just don’t know if he’s serious about any of this.”

The girls exchanged a knowing look.

“His name is Sirius.” Lily teased, inciting a loud laughter out of you.

“Walked right into that one,” you admitted, tugging on a loose tank top and draw-string shorts. “Yes, he’s hot. But it’s how easy he is to talk to. Makes me think there’s something underneath all that swagger.”

“Oh yea?” Mary wiggled her brows. “Something you want to peel back?”

“Maybe,” you grinned.

A hush of comfortable silence fell. Lily studied her reflection, then spoke more quietly. “Regulus was different than I expected. He listens. And that dry humour? Dangerous.”

“Dangerous is good,” Marlene agreed, encasing her lips with a balm.

Mary leaned back against the counter. “No one’s playing it safe this summer, huh?”

“Definitely not,” you all answered together, dissolving into sleepy, satisfied giggles.

The boys were having the exact same conversation, waiting for the girls to join them in bed. Shirts were tossed, abandoned across drawers. The air faint with spiced sandalwood and whatever cologne Sirius had emptied on himself. Overhead, the enchanted ceiling revealed the perfect copy of the night sky: constellations drifted lazily, an occasional shooting star streaking by creating an atmosphere that was calm and intimate. The kind of hush that follows after a wild night, brimming with unspoken questions.

James was already sprawled across his duvet, one arm flung dramatically over his face. “So. Be honest. Who’s winning love island already?”

“Not you, mate,” Sirius replied, kicking off his boots and flopping onto your shared bed. “You nearly lost your girl to me before the game even started.”

“Please,” James huffed. “Marlene came back, didn’t she?”

“Only after I rejected her,” Sirius said sweetly.

James threw a pillow and it smacked him in the ribs. Remus chuckled from the edge of his mattress, folding his shirt with neat precision. “I think I’m in shock, honestly. Mary chose me. She could’ve gone for any of you.”

“You say that like we’re competition,” Regulus muttered from his side of the room, sliding his silver rings onto the bedside table one by one. “We’re just here to look pretty and ruin it later.”

Sirius pointed at him, mock-impressed. “Was that a joke, Regulus?”

“Write it down,” Regulus deadpanned. “It won’t happen again.”

James sat up. “Nah, but seriously. Lily moved quick. Barely glanced at the rest of us.”

“You sound upset,” Remus noted mildly.

“I’m curious,” James corrected. “She’s got this energy like she means business. Marlene too.”

“She does,” Sirius grinned. “And they got you wrapped already.”

James spread his arms behind his head without shame. “I like a challenge.”

Remus tipped his head toward Sirius. “What about you? You and Y/N looked cosy.”

Sirius hesitated for half a second, rolling his chain between his fingers. “She’s fit, smart, and she doesn’t buy my bullshit. That’s a problem.”

Regulus raised a brow. “A problem?”

“I don’t do feelings, mate. Don’t jinx me.”

James snorted, unimpressed. “You’ve known her for four hours.”

“Exactly. And I’ve already considered scribbling her last name after mine.” He shrugged. “She’ll call me out. I need that.”

Regulus smirked from his pillow. “Clearly Lily’s not the only intimidating woman here.”

“Touché,” Sirius said with a lazy salute. “Now hush before I recite poetry about her freckles.”

A chorus of groans met that threat. Regulus buried his face in his hands, muttering curses underneath his breath.

Sirius nudged him with a sly grin. “You might want to lose that smug look, mate. I see you’re not as detached as you pretend—Lily’s got you hooked, huh?”

Regulus hesitated, his voice low. “She’s smart and gorgeous. Looks you in the eye when she talks to you. It’s intimidating.”

“That’s called chemistry,” James sang.

Regulus rolled his eyes and turned onto his side, pulling the covers up to his chest. “Whatever it is... it’s dangerous.”

Just then, the door creaked open, and one by one the girls slipped inside. Marlene sauntered in first, a mischievous grin playing on her lips as she settled in next to James. “Goodnight ladies and gents,” she teased, winking at Sirius before stretching out comfortably.

Lily got in beside Regulus, already pulling her hair down from its bun. “Hope you lot didn’t fall asleep without us,” she chuckled shyly, voice soft as she glanced around whilst the remaining islanders tucked in for the night.

Mary quietly settled under the duvet, her fingers lightly tracing idle patterns on Remus’s naked chest. “You sure surprised me tonight,” she whispered, warmth threading through her voice.

“Likewise, darling.” He gave her a soft smile, eyes fluttering closed.

The room softened under the enchanted ceiling, darkness engulfing them like a warm blanket and the promise of sleep. Encouraging tension to release from within. You felt yourself sighing softly, shoulders relaxing and the unmistakable weight of Sirius’s arm draped over your waist.

“Nervous?” he asked.

“Not a bit,” you lied.

His grin softened in the dark. “Good. Because I’m a blanket thief.” Pulling the duvet over the two of you; your shoulders brushed.

You let out a huff of laughter that danced on the tip of your tongue. “Goodnight, Sirius.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

Outside, the sea kept its rhythm and the islanders succumbed into the comforting night. The possibilities of what tomorrow brings lingered in their dreams, crackling with a little bit of magic and a whole lot of mayhem still yet to come.

a/n: and that is part one wrapped up! I hope it wasn't too much, some feedback would be deeply appreciated :)

#marauders fic #marauder au #dead gay wizards from the 70s #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #james potter #regulus black #lily evans #marlene mckinnon #mary macdonald #reader insert #love island #love island au #enchanthings

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