amnncz

[amnncz]

nightwing x teammate! reader

you’ve always had a thing for him — the way his dark hair curls around the edge of his mask, the way he moves like poetry in motion, the way his voice dips into something soft whenever he says your name.

you’re part of the team. a hero in your own right. you know how to hold your ground in battle, how to fight for what’s right. but when it comes to dick grayson? nightwing? you're a little helpless.

you always thought it was one-sided. and maybe it is. but then there are those moments — the small ones — that feel like maybe, just maybe, he’s looking at you differently too.

like how he always stands just a little closer to you than he needs to.

how he always finds a reason to talk to you after meetings, even when everyone else has left the room.

how he smiles at your dumb jokes — really smiles, like you’ve said something brilliant. and sometimes you catch him staring when he thinks you aren’t looking, his gaze soft, unreadable, and it makes your heart race in the worst way.

you remember one time, during a mission debrief, you were rambling — nervous, hands flailing, words rushing — and he just watched you with that look again. like you were the only one in the room. then he reached over, brushed your knuckles with his gloved hand, and said, “slow down. i’m listening.”

you don’t know if it meant something. you hope it did.

and there are the little things.

he brings you your favorite drink after a long patrol, and says he “just happened to pass by” the one café you like — even though it’s completely out of the way.

he always calls you to his side when things get tense. never anyone else. just you.

his voice softens on the comms when he talks to you. even in the middle of a fight. even when things go bad. “you okay?” he always asks first. “talk to me. say something.”

and every time you come back a little scraped, a little bruised, he’s already reaching for the med kit before anyone else moves. he patches you up with careful hands and eyes that look like they’re carrying words he’s never said out loud.

you feel it. but you're afraid to name it.

then one night, after a mission, you’re sitting on the rooftop of titan’s tower. tired. quiet. the city hums softly below, and the wind’s cool against your skin.

he finds you. then, sits beside you.

he doesn’t speak at first — just offers you the second bottle of soda he brought. your favorite flavor, of course.

you take it. thank him. your fingers brush. again.

his eyes linger.

"you’ve been quiet lately," he says. “i notice.”

your heart skips.

you turn to him slowly. “i didn’t think you’d—”

“i always notice you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. like it’s a secret just for you.

and suddenly, the world slows down.

the way he’s looking at you — like you’re the only star in his sky. the way his shoulder leans just slightly against yours, grounding you, pulling you closer. the way your heart’s beating so fast you wonder if he can hear it.

“sometimes,” he says, eyes still on yours, “i catch myself looking at you when i shouldn’t.” your breath hitches.

he smiles — small, almost shy.

“but i can’t help it,” he says.

and in that moment, with the city lights reflected in his eyes, with the quiet between you glowing with something too gentle to name, you wonder if this has always been love — the kind that sneaks up slowly, softly, and stays.

[amnncz]

stephen strange x doctorate psychology student! reader

they say the pursuit of knowledge is a lonely path. they weren’t wrong.

while others my age posed in engagement shoots or held baby showers, i lived in libraries and clinic rooms. my nights were lit not by candlelight dinners, but by the cold blue glow of my laptop screen.

i traded relationships for revisions, comfort for caffeine, and when asked why, i always said, “it’s temporary. it’ll be worth it.”

it had to be. i was so close—one dissertation, one defense, one degree away from becoming dr. (y/n), ph.d.

and then stephen strange walked into my clinic.

he had the kind of presence that filled the room before he even said a word. dressed sharp, words sharper. he was there for a psychiatric consult—something to do with stress management, which i already knew he’d scoff at before walking in.

i didn’t expect to like him. i certainly didn’t expect to care.

but i did.

despite the arrogance, despite the sarcasm, he was fascinating. driven in a way that mirrored my own. we understood each other’s obsession with excellence, the way it gnawed at us when we fell short. that common thread pulled us into long talks, fast friendships, and an easy familiarity that shouldn’t have been easy.

but even then, there was christine.

he spoke of her with a softness i never earned. a reverence. they’d dated on and off, apparently. she understood him, he said. respected his work. “but we’re better apart,” he’d tell me, even while his eyes betrayed the ache he still carried for her.

so i buried the quiet burn in my chest and smiled through it. i told myself i could handle being “just friends.” that maybe it was enough. that maybe i didn’t need more.

but being needed isn’t the same as being wanted.

when the accident happened, i dropped everything. cancelled appointments, postponed my research. i sat in waiting rooms and stared at his chart when no one was looking. i brought him books, fought with specialists on his behalf, argued with him when he spiraled into hopelessness.

and still, christine was the one he cried out for in the night.

she came. of course she did. but only for a while. when she left, i stayed.

i stayed when he left new york in search of something no medical science could give him. he didn’t tell me where he was going, but i knew better than to ask. i knew i wasn’t her—not the one he said goodbye to, or called from the road. i was the one who filled the silence after she left.

i was the backburner.

when he returned months later, his hands no longer trembling and his ego strangely tempered, i barely recognized him. cloaked. reserved. changed.

“stephen?” i whispered, when he appeared in my office without warning.

he gave me a faint smile. “you’re still here.” as if he was surprised i hadn’t moved on.

he told me about kamar-taj. about magic, time, reality—things that would’ve seemed delusional had anyone else said them. but i believed him. because even with all he had become, i could still see him underneath it all—the man who used to send me coffee orders over text, who once laughed too loud in my office during a thunderstorm.

i tried not to hope. but he started showing up again. bringing me tea instead of coffee now. asking about my research. sitting in on my lectures. watching me more intently than before.

i wondered—had the timing finally shifted? had he seen me, really seen me?

but then i overheard his conversation with wong one night outside the sanctum.

“i keep thinking about christine,” he said. “about the life i might’ve had.” and i knew.

still the backburner. still the one who held him when no one else did, only to be cast in the shadows once someone else returned to the light.

that night, i stared at my finished dissertation. the result of five years of sacrifice and solitude. i should’ve felt proud. instead, i felt empty.

when he showed up at my graduation, wearing that damn cloak over his dress clothes, i almost laughed.

of course he came. he always showed up right before i was about to walk away.

“you made it,” he said.

“i did.” i held his gaze. “finally.” he handed me a small box. a silver pen, engraved with dr. (y/n). i stared at it for a moment too long.

“i’m proud of you,” he said gently. “i’ve always been.” i smiled but it didn’t reach my eyes.

“you were never really watching, stephen.” he looked like he wanted to argue, but the silence between us was too full of things left unsaid. so he just nodded.

there was a time when i would’ve broken at his feet. when those words—maybe we could try—would’ve rebuilt every broken part of me. but i’m not that version of myself anymore. she stayed too long in rooms she was never invited into. she waited for eyes that always looked past her.

today wasn’t just about the robe or the title. it wasn’t just about finishing my dissertation. it was about letting go.

graduation was never just about school. it was about finally graduating from you, too. i don’t hate you, stephen. i never could.

so i walked away. not bitter. not broken. just… light.

and as the crowd roared behind me and the sun warmed my face, i realized something i never thought i would:

after all these years, i finally let go of you. and it felt like passing the hardest exam of my life.

[amnncz]

cheating! bruce wayne x wife! reader

“stay safe, my love,” you whispered as you watched your husband take further steps away from you.

he didn’t turn around. he never does anymore.

the sound of his shoes against the marble hallway echoed longer than it should have — a sound more haunting than the silence that would follow. you stood there until he disappeared into the night, swallowed by shadows that always seemed to favor him more than you ever could.

him drifting away was inevitable, but you never thought it would happen this fast.

from shared dinners lit by soft candlelight and occasional laughter, to quiet meals alone under the cold glow of an antique chandelier. the house felt bigger, emptier. and while the world saw you as bruce wayne’s wife — elegant, loved, secure — your reality was less poetic. you were a ghost haunting wayne manor long before death came.

you told yourself it was just a phase. a trial. that marriages had storms and this was yours. you were prepared to wait. to hold out hope. to love until he could feel it again.

but the world — cruel and unrelenting — decided otherwise.

‘bruce wayne, caught kissing selina kyle.’

you stared at the headline like it was fiction. clickbait, maybe. but the photo — that wasn’t a lie. he wasn’t wearing his ring.

it hurt in ways you didn’t think were possible.

you always wondered if bruce truly loved you. if what you shared were only remnants of affection — pieces of something once whole. maybe you were just the quiet in his chaos. maybe he loved the idea of you more than he ever loved you.

you thought, foolishly, that maybe your warmth could melt the layers of ice around the elusive, guarded bruce wayne.

but look where that got you.

alone, sobbing in an empty mansion — the echoes of your heartache swallowed by stone walls and forgotten vows.

the piano in the hallway you used to play together is untouched now, keys gathering dust like the parts of your marriage that went unnoticed.

your phone lights up once. a message from him.

“working late. don’t wait up.”

no "i love you." no "i miss you."

you clutch your robe tighter and stare out the window, the gotham skyline twinkling in the distance, mocking you with its indifference. slowly — he slipped through your fingers.

and you let him. because maybe love wasn’t always enough to keep someone who never wanted to stay.

[amnncz]

earl vincent phantomhive x fallen angel! reader

“once that you have proven yourself worthy, will only be the time that i shall welcome you in this humble kingdom of mine.”

"are you okay, miss?" a soft voice murmured in your left ear, accompanied by a gentle shake on your shoulders, pulling you back from your reverie.

you opened your blue eyes and found yourself looking into the face of a young man with bluish-black hair, his noble bearing unmistakable.

"thank you," you murmured, your voice flat, as you stood up from your seat against the tree.

you brushed the dirt from your dress, taking in the surroundings. weston college, huh.

after composing yourself, you nodded to the noble who had woken you from your daydream, silently thanking him before walking away.

"if i didn’t know any better, I’d think she was an angel. Isn’t that right, earl-domo?" undertaker muttered, his gaze fixed on the blonde-haired girl.

"i suppose we’ll have to find out."

the next day, while you were wandering the college gardens, you heard footsteps approaching. turning, you saw the noble from before, his piercing gaze meeting yours.

"good morning, i’m vincent phantomhive," he greeted, his voice warm yet curious. "i didn’t catch your name yesterday."

you hesitated before replying, "its y/n."

vincent smiled. "its a pleasure to meet you, y/n. if you don't mind my asking, what brings you to weston college?"

you searched for a plausible explanation. "i... needed a change of scenery. this place seemed as good as any.”

vincent's eyes seemed to probe deeper, as if sensing there was more to your story. "weston has a way of attracting those who need a fresh start. would you care to join me for a walk? the gardens are particularly lovely this time of year."

reluctantly, you agreed, falling into step beside him. as you walked, the conversation flowed more naturally. vincent spoke of the college’s history, its traditions, and his own experiences. his genuine interest in you made it difficult to keep your guard up.

as you walked alongside vincent, the weight of your exile from heaven pressed heavily on your shoulders. the beauty of weston college did little to lift your spirits, and the whispers of your past haunted your every step. if your newly found companion was to find out that you’ve been kicked out of heaven, would he still continue to befriend you?

of course not, who would want to befriend someone who has fallen off of grace with a god.

"why do you seem so sad?" he asked gently, catching you off guard.

you looked away, the memories of your fall from grace too painful to share. "its nothing. just... adjusting to a new place."

vincent nodded, accepting your answer for now. "well, if you ever want to talk, i’m here. sometimes, sharing the burden helps lighten it."

his kindness stirred something within you. for so long, you had carried the weight of your fall alone. maybe, just maybe, it was time to trust someone with a fragment of your past.

over the next few weeks, vincent's presence became a constant in your life. he had a way of drawing you out of your shell, his patience and understanding providing a solace you hadn’t known you needed.

perhaps, redemption was within reach.

[amnncz]

make a wish : a short sagau fanfiction

trigger warning: angst, death, blood

tears were falling from your e/c orbs as you held your birthday cake in front of the mirror, thinking that they were here to celebrate your birthday with you.

but they weren’t.

you were broken, too broken to be fixed.

with your job keeping you busy, the burden of having to be the breadwinner of the family was getting to you.

you gave them everything, you even lost yourself on the process but they didn’t even seem to care.

all they wanted was your money and nothing else.

they weren’t even there on the time you needed them most.

so on your twenty third birthday you planned on inviting everyone in your family to attend the simple celebration at your small apartment.

yet, (birthday month) (birth day) came and no one was present. you were alone on the four corners of your apartment.

the food you prepared for hours were left untouched and the cake your bought yourself was running out of candles.

they’re not gonna make it, aren’t they?

you weren’t surprised because you were already expecting it, but you kept your faith in your family to perhaps just spare you an hour or so just to bathe you with their love and attention after all the sacrifices you made for them.

so you made a wish. it was only supposed to be a harmless wish but things suddenly took a turn.

you woke up next day in a world where magic seems to exist and gods live among the people of their land.

at first you were scared, you knew no one and nothing about the place you’re currently on. but the warmth you weren’t able to feel from anyone on earth, you found it on teyvat.

the slimes you met seems to be so fond of you and the hilichurls were kind enough to care for you. you felt loved and secured when you were with them.

something you longed for years was finally there. you felt very happy and full.

but everything wasn’t made to last forever.

people were suddenly after you, saying that you copied their creator’s face and you deserved the worst punishment.

the slimes and the hilichurls you considered as your family were slaughtered without ang remorse and you were yet again alone.

hands tied as you were pulled towards the stage you were to be killed. you didn’t care anymore. for the three months that you were in teyvat, you were more than happy and you were thankful for feeling loved even just for a short period of time.

“any last words filthy impostor?” liyue’s archon asked as his polearm was pointed against your neck.

“thank you.”

you smiled, looking up at his amber eyes as his polearm was thrusted upon your fragile neck.

shiny golden blood painting the floor as the winds blew stronger, the ground shook vigorously and the skies turned dark.

teyvat lost its one and only creator.

[amnncz]

modern! kaedehara kazuha crushing on classmate! reader

kaedehara kazuha is the type of the student who is often caught sleeping in class.

but the teachers doesn’t seem to mind, since he was the number one student in class. plus, whenever they call him for recitation he always seems to know the answer.

you might not notice but he does have a habit of staring at you with a dreamy look on his face, while you are talking with your friends and it seems like a certain senior might’ve notice the stares the shorty gives you during lunch.

and that certain someone was none other than, beidou! the leader of the club where kazuha is on and the only person who kazuha listens to, that is when beidou doesn’t push him into confessing to you.

its not that he’s shy in confessing but he thinks that you deserve better, especially when he and his friend tomo, drifted apart making the shorty feel alone and depressed.

it may not look like it but kazuha is just a lonely person who needs someone to hold onto <‘33 so when graduation came, he finally came to you and confessed his feelings.

well, it was really an interesting turn of events because it turns out that you liked him as well! and you were also planning on confessing to him.

once you two get together everything goes well and kazuha finally starts to feel better for himself and also for you <‘33

although there are times where you two have misunderstandings you both will and never will not work it all out in the end!

“kazuha bub why are there dried leaves on the cabinet?”

“i thought they looked cute if i added them as a design.”

[amnncz]

modern! husband ayato kamisato with a pregnant wife! reader

kamisato ayato is a very busy man.

as the ceo of the most famous yashiro fashion company he was always busy with meetings every day barely having the time to meet with you, his little lovely wife.

but the moment you told him that you were pregnant with his first child, he pushed all his works aside and placed you on top of his priority list.

he promised you that he’ll never miss any appointments that you’ll have with the doctor and that he will always be beside you along the way.

but not even a week later thoma came into your shared home with your husband saying that he can no longer take another week taking care of the whole company.

and that’s when ayaka came to save the day! she helps the poor assistant with the works her brother was supposed to do in exchange of her getting to hold your baby before ayato gets to hold your baby.

ayato pouts but there’s nothing he really can’t do. but he does plans on not inviting his little sister once his little child is born :p

a/n: hello!! its my first time writing in this platform && i hope u like it !! if u want more feel free to message me for more requests !! <‘33