#Romantic fluff

[alastor-simp]

Making Grabby Hands At Them - LADS Men x Female Reader Part 1/2

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Summary: Your boyfriend comes home and finds you napping alone. Upon waking up and seeing him, you make grabby hands towards them. How will they respond?

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Genre: Pure fluff + romance, a bit suggestive with rafayel's section

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Characters: Sylus and Rafayel here. Caleb, Xavier and Zayne in part 2

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Tags: Fluff, cuddles, reader wants affection, lads men x reader, female reader, craving affection, kisses, cute nicknames, grabby hands, reader wants a hug, hugging.

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Notes: Was craving an adorable fluffy fanfic with all of the LADS men, so decided to do a cuddle headcannon for them. This is part 1, and I will make a part 2 soon since I'm not use to writing for the other three. Enjoy :)

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Credit: Divider belongs to @s-h-o-w-y

Sylus🐦‍⬛

🐦‍⬛ Heaving a sigh, Sylus stepped through the large doors of the Onychinus base, having dealt with some annoying pests, thinking they could best him, as he shrugged off his coat, hanging it in its proper place. There was nothing he wanted more then to see his beloved kitten right now,

🐦‍⬛Surprisingly, you weren't there to greet him once he arrived, rising an eyebrow at the unexpected change. Had you possibly gone back home? The text he received said you would wait for him, but maybe you changed your mind. Venturing further, he entered into his chambers, a pleasant surprise awaiting him. In his room, lying in his bed was you, sleeping away, tightly wrapped in a blanket while hugging his pillow. His crimson gaze soften at that, pleased that you didn’t leave and also admiring how at peace you looked.

🐦‍⬛His feet carried him over to the bed, stopping at the corner, soft eyes gazing at you. His hand came closer, ruffling your hair before slowly moving down to caress your cheek. His actions stirred you awake, your sleepy, groggy eyes opening slowly, looking up at the white-haired man, wearing a kind smile. “Having a cat nap, sweetie?” His tone was teasing, carmine eyes full of tenderness, something he only reserved for you.

🐦‍⬛Slowly, your hands raised up, opening and closing them towards Sylus, earning a head tilt from him, deep chuckle leaving his lips. "I'm afraid I don't understand what that little gesture means, kitten." He said, still watching you do the gesture over and over again. Only response that left your lips was a pleading groan, hands rapidly continuing the same gesture, trying to send the message across.

🐦‍⬛He soon understood the hand motions, lips turning up into a soft smirk, stepping back to remove his attire, leaving him in only his boxers. Joining you under the covers, your hands wrapped around him, legs tangling with his own, face pressed into his chest muscles—notes of gunpowder and expensive cologne filling your nostrils. Sylus only chuckled at your actions, his own heart melting at you clinging on to him like a koala. "Next time, tell me you want to cuddle, kitten.

🐦‍⬛"You told me before that actions spoke louder than words." You said, voice mumbled in his chest, warmth spreading through both of your bodies—melting you into him more. Shaking his head with a chuckle, Sylus dropped a kiss to your forehead, his hands drawing you closer by holding your waist, tightening the hug. One of his hands soon traveled to the back of your head, stroking your hair, the simple act speaking volumes of the affection and care they shared. In that moment, words were unnecessary; their closeness said everything.

Rafayel🧜🏻‍♂️

🧜🏻‍♂️ "Yeah, yeah, I got it, Thomas. Goodnight." Rafayel groaned, ending the phone call in a huff. He had just come back from an art show, having to deal with some spoiled rich art-enthusiasts—a painful migraine forming in his head. He was just glad to be back in his art studio, away from the annoying fans. Not all of them were annoying, but having to answer millions of questions of his inspirations for his art pieces grew tiring.

🧜🏻‍♂️Thankfully, the text he got from you, telling him that you were waiting for him at his studio helped his mood tremendously, knowing that his adorable bodyguard was here made his heart soar. "Oh cutie~. I'm back." He sang out, blueish-pink eyes scanning for your presence, only to find nothing, feelings of worry filling his stomach. He called out again, and same result—no answer.

🧜🏻‍♂️Had she left, floated in his mind, but he knew you and his heart told him you would never do that. His legs carried him through the other rooms of his studio, looking for you, but no luck. Last location was the bathroom, as he knock on the door gently, calling out your name, "Cutie? Are you in there?" Silence was the answer he received, as he slowly pushed the door open, taking a peek inside to make sure.

🧜🏻‍♂️Lo and behold, there you were, laying in the bathtub covered in bubbles, moonlight from the window illuminating the room. Small candles were lit around the tub—creating a romantic atmosphere. Your head was leaned against the rim of the bathtub, eyes closed—in a deep sleep, unaware that Raf had come home. A soft chuckle left his lips, heading to the bathtub, bending down to his knees, arms crossed and placed on the lip of the bathtub. His hand motioned closer, fingers caressing your cheek, "Cutie, wake up. You're going to become a raisin soon enough."

🧜🏻‍♂️Your eyes opened softly, slowly taking in the purple-haired man that was smiling at you at the end of the tub, head tilted in his crossed arms. Lifting your arms up, dripping with water and soap, you opened and closed your hands in front of Raf. "Haha, I'm assuming that means you want me to join you. Isn't that right, cutie?" He said, faint blush dusting his cheeks. You didn't say a word, only giving him a shy smile and a nod, continuing the hand motions.

🧜🏻‍♂️Getting up from his position from the ground, he slowly removed the formal garb he was wearing—suit and pants pooling onto the floor, his godly body bare in front of your eyes—heart fluttering in your chest. He soon stepped into the tub, water flowing out onto the floor, as he positioned himself in between your legs, his body laying on top of you as he placed his head on your chest—arms embracing you. You responded back by wrapping your own hands around him, cradling him closer to you—soapy hands rubbing his violet locks.

🧜🏻‍♂️The both of you remained silent, the light from the moon caressing your joined bodies—hints of rose and sandalwood filling the air from the scented bath. "I'm sorry." You whispered, hands continuing to rub his hair. He motioned his head up to gaze at you, chin against your chest, confusion in his eyes, "For what?" Leaning forward a bit, you rubbed your forehead against his, "Well, I wanted to surprise you with a romantic relaxing bath and I ended up falling asleep, ruining the moment." A light chuckle left him, as he motioned closer, eyes closing as he drew you into a soft kiss, deepening it as he grabbed the back of your head.

🧜🏻‍♂️The kiss soon ended, a string of saliva forming between the both of you, "Nothing is ruined, cutie. I'm so happy you have no idea." He whispered, his hand grabbing yours to place against his chest, feeling his beating heart. "See?" The Lemurian mark on his chest begin to glow, symbolizing the everlasting bond between the both of you. He kissed you again—fierce with longing, heavy with everything they’d held back for far too long.

🧜🏻‍♂️When they finally broke apart, breathless and trembling, he rested his forehead against yours again. He didn’t answer at first—just looked at you with something deep and unspoken in his eyes. Then his hand cupped your cheek, thumb tracing along your jaw as if he was afraid you'd vanish. "I missed you," he said quietly, his voice cracking from all of the emotions he felt. You stilled, your breath catching in your throat, and then you leaned in and kissed him again—slow, deep, and full of aching love. This kiss was quieter than the last, but no less intense. It was the kind of kiss that said, I’m here. I never really left.

End. Continued in Part 2

[badboydevotee]

Love In Legato

Summary: As the season burns brighter, you find yourself pulled into a quiet unraveling—Jin’s walls cracking like glass under summer’s touch, a melody he’s never dared play written just for you. A letter sealed with music and silence may be all he has left to give.

The ocean breeze slips in through cracked windows, dancing through chiffon curtains and touching the ivory keys of a grand piano sitting untouched in his room—until today.

It had started with a letter.

A single envelope slipped beneath your door. You had thought it might be from a teacher—maybe Tohma, considering his habit of leaving you unexpected tasks. But the handwriting was too refined. The paper was too expensive. When you broke the wax seal, the scent of fresh-cut cedar and sea salt hit you like a memory.

“Come to the music room. 5 PM. Don’t be late. —J.K.”

No signature. Just initials, though there was no mistaking who it was from.

You groaned out loud. “Not this again…”

Jin Kamurai had been a pain in your side ever since your first mission together—a disaster that ended with you soaked to the bone and him scoffing while effortlessly saving the day. He was everything you didn’t like: cocky, aloof, way too confident for his own good. And he called you “servant.” You made it a point to walk away every time.

But despite all of that, your heart never listened.

The moment you entered the music room, you regretted it.

Jin sat at the grand piano, head tilted slightly toward the light as he pressed the keys—soft, aching notes that wrapped around you like a second skin. His white suit shimmered faintly in the fading sun, and his silver-blue hair ruffled slightly with the breeze. His eyes—icy blue, unreadable—lifted to meet yours.

"You’re late."

You scowled. “Only by thirty seconds.”

"Thirty seconds longer than I had patience for.”

“Then why invite me?”

He stood, the piano's soft melody cutting off mid-chord. "Because," he said, voice low, “I’ve written something. For you. And since you’re not going to come willingly unless it sounds like a command, I had to make it one."

You blinked. "You wrote a piece?"

He stepped closer, closing the space between you. You noticed the gold chain around his neck glinting faintly as he handed you a folded sheet of music.

"No. A letter. But I don’t write letters the normal way."

You unfolded the sheet. No words. Just notes. A haunting melody in G minor, swelling and falling like ocean tides.

"You expect me to read music like a love letter?"

His expression didn’t waver. “Play it.”

When you sat at the piano and played the first few notes, a hush fell between you. The melody was tender—vulnerable in a way Jin never allowed himself to be. And as you played, you realized: this was his heart. Every harsh word, every arrogant smirk, every time he pushed you away—it was all here, transposed into the language of music.

By the time you reached the last chord, your hands trembled.

"You said you didn’t care," you whispered. "But this—"

"I never said that," he cut in. His voice had dropped, quieter now. "You just assumed I didn’t. Because I don’t say things with words like you want."

He knelt beside you, hand brushing yours on the keys.

"I’m not good at this," he murmured. "At… people. At feelings. But I’m trying. For you."

The next few weeks passed like a dream.

You never officially became "a thing," but it became obvious to everyone in Frostheim. Jin would “accidentally” show up in the hallway just as you were walking by. He’d “forget” to mention that the cafeteria had your favorite dessert until the last minute, then drag you there without waiting for a thank-you. His favorite insult now came with a smirk: “Stupid servant. Can’t function without me.”

You rolled your eyes every time. But you never walked away.

One afternoon, you found yourself on the beach outside—sand warm underfoot, the sky painted with lavender and pink hues. Jin was already there, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled from the breeze. In his hand: a bottle, sealed with ribbon and a wax stamp.

"A gift," he said, tossing it lightly to you.

You caught it, eyebrow raised. “What is this? A message in a bottle?”

"Open it."

Inside was another letter—this time in words.

You’re loud. You’re annoying. You’re too stubborn for your own good. And I don’t know when I started liking all of that. Stay with me. Even if I’m difficult. Especially if I’m difficult. I don’t care what you call me—just don’t walk away again. Yours, even if I won’t say it out loud. —Jin

Your chest ached.

He was standing there, waiting, not saying anything. You stepped closer, slipping the bottle into your bag.

"You still owe me a better nickname."

He blinked. “What?”

“If you ever call me ‘servant’ again, I’ll push you into the sea.”

A pause. Then—he laughed. Not a smirk, not a scoff, but a real laugh. His voice, deep and rich, rang out like the piano's final note.

“Fine. Then I’ll call you…”

He leaned closer, breath warm on your cheek.

“Mine.”

That night, back in Frostheim, you returned to the music room. Jin was already there, waiting with a second page of music.

He looked up, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You coming in or what?"

You sat beside him at the piano. Together, you played. The room filled with your music—his rough, perfect chords and your gentle accompaniment blending together.

And when the stars lit the icy sky above, Jin reached over, hand resting on top of yours.

"You make summer feel… less unbearable."

You smiled softly. “You make it feel like a breeze I never want to lose.”

Title Legato - "smooth and connected." When notes are played legato, they flow into each other without breaks—gentle, emotional, and continuous. The title suggests a love that may not be loud or sudden, but instead flows quietly and deeply—like the subtle, growing affection between Jin and the reader. It reflects Jin’s tsundere nature: he doesn’t speak his feelings outright, but his emotions come through in soft, connected gestures—like music played legato. Jin expresses his feelings not in words, but through music. The "legato" represents how love forms gradually through shared moments, even if neither of them says it aloud.

Inspo song

Mad by Martin Garrix and Lauv this song's stuck in my head, I had to put it somewhere.

Ao3 vers. I keep saying love in gelato..

[andreafmn]

Requite | Chapter 1

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: When everything seems to fall into place in Forks, Washington, a string of mysterious deaths call the attention of both vampires and werewolves in town. As the redheaded vampire returns with her mind set on revenge, (Y/N) and Bella Swan find themselves in the center of danger once again. With secrets still lingering between them about their past best friend, they will find themselves stuck in a whirlwind of love, betrayal, and the hardest choices they’ll have to make. But one thing is certain: no one will go a day without a taste for vengeance. 

<- Previous | Next ->

Calm in a town like Forks was a mirage. Or, at times, it was simply a distraction. While the supernatural walked amongst the land, there would never be calm and tranquility. Their existence was enough to shift the balance of the universe, and it would always find a way to rectify itself. Even just a couple of days could send the small town down a whirlwind, regardless of who got caught in the middle of the current.  

(Y/N) Swan didn't know that yet. At that moment, she thought she had faced her worst battle yet. She had survived a vampire attack; she had saved her sister from drowning in the ocean, and she had even endured an abusive relationship. There couldn't be anything else thrown her way that could be worse.  

Or so she thought. But of course, hindsight is twenty-twenty.  

Finals were approaching, and (Y/N) had never wanted to go back to homeschooling more than at that moment. For the better part of a year, she had been able to focus on her schoolwork at her own pace. In school, she had to submit to her teacher's pace. If she had it her way, she would have already been done with her year's curriculum. Instead, she was buried up to her nose in her and Bella's books.  

“So, dad gave me another letter from Jacob,” Bella muttered as she closed her history book, seemingly over the topic. “Seems he really wants to talk. Although it seems he's not sure about what.”  

Bella passed the piece of paper to her sister, her eyes searching for any answers on (Y/N)'s face. But the younger Swan remained stoic as she perused the letter. Jacob had started over seven times, angrily scratching over every sentence until he left a vague plea to see the older Swan and explain everything that had gone down behind her back. In between strikes, he said he felt like a schoolboy asking Charlie to hand over notes. He asked her to pick up the phone. He begged her to talk to him before he talked to her own sister. Most of all, he asked her not to choose Edward. 

Every letter for the past few weeks had been the same. Angry and desperate requests to see Bella before (Y/N) told her the truth of what he had done. Every letter was accompanied by a frenzied call, his voice always distressed and anguished over the receiver and always picked up by Charlie. And every time, he received the same answer. Bella didn't want to speak to him, and (Y/N) had not said anything.  

The younger girl wasn't sure why she was protecting him. Jacob had done atrocious things deliberately. He had manipulated, belittled, and dismissed her for months. He had quite literally left her for dead when she had faced a murderous vampire. He had used her feelings for him to get closer to her sister. Jake had chewed her up and spat her out when he had been done with her. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to turn her family against him—much to Paul's dismay.  

(Y/N) had made Paul promise he would not tell anyone what Jacob had done. Not when Bella cornered him at night when he snuck in, not when her father tried to coax it out of him when he joined them for Saturday breakfasts or Sunday dinners, and definitely not when he had asked her to his senior prom in front of both Swans.  

“When are you gonna tell me what happened?” Bella asked as (Y/N) folded the note back up. “Don't you think I should know if I'm ever gonna talk to him again?”  

“There's not really much to say,” the younger girl shrugged as she closed the books in front of her. “I won't stop you from being his friend, Bella. Whatever happened between us happened—it's not gonna change no matter how much we talk about it.”  

“What if I just ask him about it?” her sister offered. “Will you be fine with that?” 

“You can do whatever you want, Bells,” she said. “But believe me when I say he’s not gonna tell you anything.” 

“Don't you think I should know his true character if I'm gonna associate myself with him?” her sister pushed, exasperated. “(Y/N), the things I know he did are bad, but I need to know the whole truth if I'm ever gonna start to think to forgive him.”  

Before she could answer or even give herself time to make up her mind, her attention turned to a peculiar smell in the air. The sisters exchanged a questioning gaze before leaving their books on Bella’s bed and following the scent all the way to the kitchen. There, Charlie was fanning smoke coming from the stove, the open window blowing the cloud back inside rather than helping to keep it out of the house. The smell of wood and pine mixed with the smoke in the kitchen created a choking and uncomfortable environment.  

“What are you doing, dad?” Bella exclaimed as she opened the microwave only seconds before a catastrophe while (Y/N)turned off the burner their father had neglected. “Trynna burn down the house?” 

“Oh! Girls!” he exclaimed as he finally noticed their presence. “I, uh, I was trying to make dinner.”  

“You put a jar of sauce in the microwave,” the older daughter sighed. “With the lid on. Yeah, metal and microwaves don't really mix well.” 

“Did I at least get the pasta right?” Charlie questioned expectantly. ��It's just boiling water.”  

“Well, yeah, but you should stir it too,” (Y/N) chuckled. “And maybe add enough water for the noodles inside. That usually helps the pasta not stick to the pot and burn.”  

“I'll take that into consideration for next time.”  

Bella and (Y/N) exchanged a worried look, knowing their father would not have been caught dead in the kitchen had he not had something to say. It was written on his face—something was clouding his mind. His brow was furrowed, his shoulders were tense, and there was concern plastered across his features. Charlie had something to say, and he was trying to let it go down with a plate of burnt spaghetti.  

(Y/N) was the first one to talk, curious about her father's behavior. “What's going on, dad?” she inquired as she tried to clear out the burnt sludge in the pot. “Why the sudden need to cook us a meal?”  

“It's not illegal for me to make a meal,” he argued. “Especially not in my own house.”  

The sisters exchanged the same look once more, unsure what it could be that he was hiding. He was avoiding their gaze, focusing on the last bits of smoke that disappeared into the rainy day. 

 “You would know, huh?” Bella teased, staring at the badge shining on his jacket.  

“Yeah,” he chuckled dryly. “Good one.”  

Charlie was quiet after that, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the rack that had housed his gun sling for the better part of the week. Ever since the pack didn't have to investigate the odd slaughtered hitchhiker, no one had reported sightings of the massive, mysterious wolves. Of course, the man didn't know that, but he was glad the semblance of calm had returned to the small town.  

Silence rained in the Swan household as Charlie sat at the table with the newspaper and Bella worked on cleaning the rest of the pasta pot. (Y/N) couldn’t handle the tension, feeling herself drowning in the unease of the room. There were too many unspoken words between the three of them, and there didn’t seem to be a confession coming from any of them.  

“Well, why don’t I run out to the diner and get us some food?” (Y/N) offered. “Dad, thank you for trying to make us some dinner, but I would like to eat something tonight—something edible.”   

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” he said, clearing his throat. “Is, uh, is your, uh, boy, uh, friend, uh, your friend Paul coming over tonight?”   

“During stipulated visiting hours,” she chuckled, “yeah.”  

“Alright, get him something too, then,” her father instructed before moving his gaze back to the paper in his hands. "Take some money from my wallet. It's in the inside pocket of the jacket.”  

“Cool. I'll be back soon.”  

“I'll call ahead, so the order is almost done when you get there,” Bella announced. “Make sure they pack my order of onion rings.”  

"Will do,” (Y/N) said, slipping on her jacket and pulling up the hood. “Be right back.” 

She pulled her phone out as she made her way to her van, clicking on the number three on her speed dial. But before the line could ring more than once, arms wrapped around her, and she was lifted off the ground. An undeniable warmth engulfed her, and she couldn't help the laugh that left her throat. “Paul,” she shrieked joyfully as he spun her around. “You're early.”  

“And you're on your way to get some food,” the boy smiled brightly as he turned her to face him. “I'll go with you.” 

“How could I say no to such a tempting offer?” (Y/N) smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck before giving him a small kiss. “And you should be wearing a jacket in this weather. I know you don't need it, but others don't know that.”  

“Well, I would have worn the hoodie I left in the van, but it seems like it has a new owner.”  

“I told you, whatever's left in the car is mine,” she grinned. “Not my fault you can't keep track of your belongings.”  

“Let's just go get the food before your dad starts to wonder what's taking so long,” he chuckled. “I think I'm finally winning him over.”  

 (Y/N) laughed as they got into the vehicle. She had started getting used to Paul appearing out of nowhere, filling her quiet and empty moments with his laughter and wild occurrences. He had become a welcome constant in her life, and she couldn't remember a time when he wasn't in it. “I don't think dad will ever warm up again to the idea of another guy dating one of his daughters,” she teased. “But if anyone has a chance, it would definitely be you.”  

“Thank you for the vote of confidence. And here I was thinking I had a leg up on everyone.” 

“Hey, he's getting you food,” (Y/N) laughed. “He likes you enough. At least he likes you more than Jacob. Even Bella sorta likes you.”  

“I take it you still haven't told them what happened,” Paul asked, taking her hand in his and giving it a comforting squeeze. “At least your sister should know what that idiot really did to you to cut him out from her life completely.”  

“And what good would that do?” the girl sighed. “It won't change what happened, nor would it serve her to lose one of the only people she can call a friend.” 

“Do you really think he's the kind of friend Bella should have? Should she really keep someone that would have let her sister die by her side?”  

“Can we not talk about him?” (Y/N) argued, turning the van into the diner parking lot. “I don't want to waste my time on him anymore—not now and definitely not later.”  

“(Y/N)...”  

“No more talk about him, Paul,” she said firmly as she killed the engine and turned to face him. “If you mention him again, there will be consequences. Starting with locking my window at night.”  

"You drive a hard bargain,” Paul replied while cradling her chin in his hand. “And it seems I don't have another choice but to agree.”  

With a chaste kiss, they left the van, walking hand-in-hand into The Lodge like they had done it a million times before. It was easy for everything to feel natural with Paul. Being with him made her heart feel at peace. And after all she had been through in the short time she had resided in Forks, she more than welcomed it. In hindsight, (Y/N) knew she had played a hand in all the hardship that had befallen her. She ignored how she felt about Paul; she pushed him away over trivial miscommunications, and she had stayed with Jacob for far longer than she ever should have.  

“Is this gonna become a weekly thing, huh?” Cora, the waitress who always took their order, said with a smile. “What is this now three weeks in a row that you two have come in?”  

“Something like that,” (Y/N) chuckled. “This time is because dad tried to cook dinner. And well, that never goes down as well as it should.”  

“What'd he burn this time?”  

“Spaghetti,” the girl smiled. “And he tried to microwave a jar of sauce with the lid on.”  

“Charlie should really just stick to the police work,” the woman laughed. “And you came in just in time. Steak with cobbler; a double medium-well Lodge burger with extra bacon and onions and cheesy fries; a single bacon cheeseburger with cheese and bacon friends; and a veggie burger—which has surprisingly become a best-seller since we put it on the menu last year—with onion rings. I threw in a couple of slices of apple pie slices in there for you guys. On the house.” 

“Thank you, Cora. But could I trouble you with replacing two of the slices with some chocolate cream pie?” Paul asked, sporting his award-winning smile. “As good as it is, (Y/N) here is allergic to apples, and I wouldn't want her to miss out on dessert.”  

“Oh my goodness, sweetheart. I completely forgot!” Cora exclaimed as she scrambled to the pie display. “Tell you what, you keep those extra slices, and I'll give you three of the chocolate. And I'm gonna leave a note right here so no one forgets.”  

“You don't have to do all that, Cora,” (Y/N) said. “It was an honest mistake.”  

“Nonsense, (Y/N),” she smiled. “I'm happy to do it. And between you and me, I like the chocolate one better. Your boy here has really good taste.”  

“That he does,” the younger Swan replied as she felt heat flush to her face. She paid for the food, handing Paul the bags as she put away the change, ignoring the teasing stare the waitress was sending her way. “Thanks for everything, Cora. I’ll see you next week.”  

“See you, sweetie,” she called back. “Say hi to your dad and your sister for me.”  

“Will do!”  

(Y/N) felt stupid with how much she was smiling. Paul had remembered her apple allergy, he held doors open for her, he remembered her favorite pie. They were bare minimum standards, but she couldn’t help the joy that overtook her when he did them. Paul knew her in the most simplistic of senses, and she couldn't believe she had stopped herself from feeling that way.  

“You remembered my apple allergy,” she smiled, bumping his shoulder as they walked back to the van. “Thank you.”  

“I should be able to remember the fact that my girlfriend's throat could close if she eats apples,” Paul chuckled. “It's not a fact I should gloss over.”  

The girl stopped in her tracks at his words, realization sinking in. “What was that?”  

“What?”  

“What you just said.”  

“That I should know apples could possibly kill my girlfriend?” he chuckled again, unsure what he had said wrong. “What about it?”  

“You called me your girlfriend, Paul,” (Y/N) stated. “You've never called me your girlfriend before.”  

“Oh, uh, well, you know, I didn't... we haven't had the talk but... you know,” he stammered awkwardly, his skin growing red as he scrambled for the right words. “Is it okay that I call you my girlfriend?”  

(Y/N) smiled before standing on her tiptoes to place a kiss on Paul's lips. “It is more than okay,” she beamed. “I like the sound of it. Especially when it's said by my boyfriend.”  

“That does sound good, huh?” Paul circled his free arm around her shoulders before kissing the top of her head. “Now, let's get this food to your house before your dad thinks I've kidnapped you.”  

Like mere minutes before, Paul and (Y/N) were back in her van, the smell of diner food filling the cabin, and heading back to the house. Just the month before, the youngest Swan could never have thought she would be where she was. With Jacob, she couldn't see farther than a couple of weeks down the road—not that it mattered in the end. There were so many parts of her that had become overwhelmed with the darkness of their relationship, lost in the endless void that came with being close to Jake.  

None of that mattered now, though. Happiness had found itself back in her life, and it seemed to start infecting the rest of the Swans. Charlie and Bella cheered when the couple arrived with the food, making space on the table for the bags. The older Swan girl placed the food on plates as Paul and (Y/N) served drinks for the table. Peering into the windows of the house, no one would have guessed all the pain that had led to that moment.  

By the time they had reached the desserts, Bella had picked up her discarded Wuthering Heights book while Paul and (Y/N) whispered amongst themselves. It was a rather normal scene for a less-than-normal family.  

“So, um,” Charlie cleared his throat as he wiped his mouth, “I did have a reason for cooking dinner for you guys, as you may have guessed.”  

“Is that what that smell was?” Paul mumbled.  

Trying to stifle her laughter, (Y/N) placed a hand on his forearm and whispered, “Not right now, Paul.”  

“Anyway, it's regarding your grounding, Bella,” the man continued, focusing his gaze on his oldest daughter rather than the boy who’d seemed to invade his new family dinners. “I’m not very good at this whole grounding thing, and you are far too good a kid for being grounded. You haven't complained, you've come home at curfew, and that boy hasn't stepped foot in my house since he came back—which I much appreciate.”  

“You did say he couldn't come over,” Bella stated, a hint of a laugh hiding under her words. “But I don't want him over—not for now, at least.” 

“Well, good. I think it's about time you were up for some parole,” Charlie said, a tentative smile tugging at his lips. “I just hope you take this time to reconnect with your old friends and focus on something other than those Cullens.”  

Bella finally set down her book, saving her spot with a clean napkin. “I've been trying to do that, dad,” the girl admitted. “I know I haven’t been myself these last few months, and I broke your trust by leaving with Alice, but I do want you to know I’ve been trying to change.”  

“I know, Bells, and I've seen that,” he smiled. “That's why I think it's time you get some of your freedom back. As long as you're prudent with it.”  

“Right, no one wants a repeat of the past few months,” she laughed. “But I do appreciate you trusting me again, dad. I promise to do my hardest to make you proud, even if it takes forever.”  

“I'm already proud of you, Bells,” Charlie said. “I'm proud of both of you girls—no matter what. All I want is for you to be happy and fulfilled by whatever you want in life. Especially you, Bella. Now that you're about to enter a new stage in your life.”  

The man slipped an open envelope toward his oldest daughter while he tried his best to conceal the smile that threatened to stretch across his face. “You opened it,” Bella noted. “That's a felony, Sheriff.”  

“Couldn't help myself,” her father beamed as she pulled the papers out of the envelope. “Congratulations, kid.  This is just the first of many.” 

University of Alaska Southeast had been one of the only colleges Bella had personally applied to. Unlike some of the schools (Y/N) and Charlie had sent applications to using some of her old essays, she knew she could get in. And it did help that Juneau was overcast most days of the year, given she didn't know just how long she had before she had to face the inevitable. Regardless of what Edward had told her, there was no way to know when the Volturi would come to make sure their word had been made law.  

She received her sister's congratulatory hug and Paul's words, unsure how else to respond. The girl knew she should have been happier—it was her future after all. But she couldn't help the dread that filled her as she thought about giving it up. There wouldn't be any human experiences she would be able to live through—emphasis on the human. Once she was turned into an immortal monster, that's all she would know.  

“What about you, Paul?” Charlie asked, clearing his throat and breaking his oldest daughter out of deep thought. “What're your plans after school, kid?”  

“Uh, well,” the boy stammered, straightening his posture. (Y/N) stifled a laugh as she shared a knowing look with Bella. Their father loved interrogating anyone who stepped foot in his house, and it was Paul's turn to get a grilling. “I was, um, accepted at Western. I'm still undecided, but I'm thinking of getting a degree in Manufacturing Engineering. Still, I'll have to defer for a year.” 

“Why's that?”  

“Financial aid only covers so much, and I don't really want to get loans,” he explained. “The counselor at school said I could accept Western's offer and defer for a year while I worked with my dad to save up some money. That way, I'll have something to tide me over my freshman year.”  

Paul squeezed (Y/N)'s hand under the table and fought back a smile when squeezed back, mentally repeating the script he had practiced the night before with the youngest Swan. If there was one thing she knew, it was that her father was predictable.  

“Well, it seems you've got a good plan there,” Charlie said, sounding almost impressed. “That's good. So, engineering, huh?”  

The boy droned on about what he liked about the degree when Bella's phone chirped twice with a text message. Invested in their conversation, Charlie and Paul did not notice the frown that pulled the corners of the girl's mouth, an exasperated sigh escaping her lips. (Y/N) noticed, though, and she pointed toward the living room. The two sisters left the conversation about college and hoped they were just out of hearing distance for privacy.  

“Is everything okay?” (Y/N) questioned. “Who texted?”  

Bella handed her younger sister her phone, allowing her a moment to read. “Edward sent a picture of today's newspaper,” she said. “Apparently, the deaths that have been happening in Seattle that have dad grouchy are newborn vampires running rampant.”  

“And Jacob wants to talk,” (Y/N) added, feeling a knot forming in her throat. “He's really persistent, huh?’  

“(Y/N), you need to tell me what happened between you two.”  

“God, it's not gonna change anything,” the girl groaned. “Why can't everyone just let it go?”  

“Fine, I'll drop it,” Bella said. “I'll just go over to La Push and get his version.”  

Next ->

A/N: teased y'all for long enough with that little prologue, but strap in. This book is gonna be one hell of a ride 🤭 If you used to be tagged in Speak and would like to be tagged in Requite, you will need to fill out the form below. Once Tumblr stops allowing the tag list, I will be closing it. If you’d like to be tagged: click hereMake sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

Taglist: @lepetitlu @galactict3a @eddiefrickenmunson @stvrrlighttt @gh0stgurl @g-l-1-t-c-h-3-r @nj01

[yjhzies]

#1: “ 'bout you.” — YJH

⸝⸝୭ ˚. fluff . est. relation . crack

⋆ pairings : jeonghan x gn!reader ⋆ warning : firecrackers, reader is betrayed (in a game) ⋆ wc : 0.7k [✉️] · A warm summer night by the beach, sounds like a dream? Well, it's not when Jeonghan sneaks his way out of a game without you.

⋆ note — bout you. THIS SONG NEEDS TO BE INJECTED IN MY VEINS BECAUSE OH MY GOD. I need to smooch uji and bumzu 😍😍 | #1 fic of the series of "songs into fics" !!

♪ Now Playing : 'bout you by SEVENTEEN

“Now?”

For what felt like the tenth time, you asked, causing everyone to make noises of disappointment.

“Come on! Just one more round left!” Dokyeom exclaimed, handing you the dice.

“Exactly, your man isn't running away anywhere.” Seungkwan added, covering his face as he said that.

By your man, he means Jeonghan.

The members had planned to visit a well-known place that is famous for its beautiful view at night time. From what they said, it should've been a visit, but the place was too breathtaking to just visit. So, there they were, spending the night in a cabin near the beach.

And if Jeonghan and the others hadn't basically begged, you wouldn't be here right now.

“Just let me go already, please~” you whined, throwing the dice back at Dokyeom, to which he frowned.

“Please, please, pleaseee!! None of the others are willing to play! Not even Suyeon and Soonyoung! It's just the four of us.” Chan pouted, joining his hands together.

Soonyoung, Suyeon—his girlfriend, had sheepishly made their way out of this game; and so did the other members. Joshua, Seungcheol, Mingyu, and even Jeonghan.

If only you had known that Jeonghan would betray you like this, he'd be running for his life right now. But, what's more important is the fact that you can't even sneak your way out of the game like others.

“I was forced into this by the way!” You sighed, rolled your eyes, and sat down to continue playing. Though annoyed, their laughs and joy at you agreeing to play caused you to smile.

“You're the best!—”

“Guys! Look here!!” Mingyu shouted from outside, causing the four of you to exchange confused looks before Chan eventually walked towards the balcony and slid the door open—revealing a breathtakingly beautiful view as the firecrackers blew up in the sky.

The room filled with squeals and gasps as Seungkwan and Dokyeom stood up from their seats.

“Let's go outside!” Dokyeom chirped, before running off to the door as Seungkwan and Chan soon followed.

“Y/n, come on!!” Chan shouted before he eventually disappeared from view.

“Coming!” You shouted back, but had your eyes fixed to the sky. You stood up and walked towards the balcony, your lips slightly parted, eyes wide with awe.

It was so perfect; different colours and patterns blasting in the sky, all the members bursting with joy on the beach, creating a gorgeous view for your eyes. If only you had your camera, you would take thousands of pictures, capturing this beautiful moment.

“Here,” a voice interrupted you from your thoughts as a person held out a camera, causing you to flinch. You turned your head to take a look at the person, only to sigh and look away.

Immediately frowning, Jeonghan pursed his lips together. “Why did you sigh,”

“I don't know, you tell me.” Your voice was loud and clear.

Jeonghan stepped closer, taking your hand and handing you the camera.

“Come on, don't be mad, I'm sorry…” he whined, swinging your arm back and forth.

“Don't be mad? Literally half of you sneaked out of the game and left me there alone.” You scoffed, definitely not buying his apologies. “Only Shua came to help me out, but he failed.”

Jeonghan wrapped his arms around your side, giggling for no reason, fueling your sulkiness.

“You're cute,”

“What?”

“I said,” Jeonghan kissed your cheek, flashing a grin. “you're so cute.”

You stayed silent, feeling your cheeks heat up in the warm breeze of the gentle summer night.

“Get away, it's hot.” You mumbled, trying to push Jeonghan away, but in vain.

“You're shivering, sweetheart.”

Oh, what a sweet Jeonghan can do to your heart. Considering the contrast of how usually teasy and flirty he is, this can melt you within seconds.

He finally burst into laughter, hands travelling down to your waist as he turned you to face him. Your cheeks puffed, face warm and pinkish—enough to tell him that he had an effect on you.

“Ah,” he sniffled a laugh, bringing his hands up to your cheeks to squish them. “I know you aren't mad, baby.” he pressed a gentle peck to your lips.

“And how do you know that?”

“You didn't stop me from kissing you.” He smiled, taking the camera from your hands.

“I—”

“Now come here,” he said, wrapping one of his arms around your waist and positioning the other one above to click a picture.

“You're doing it wrong!” Just as you reach out to take the camera, Jeonghan presses his soft lips firmly against your cheek, causing you to pause.

*Click*

Just like that, the beautiful view of the warm summer night sky was captured along with the sweetest slice of Jeonghan’s love for you.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

can i get a romantic blurb with prompt #69 and matt murdock :]

(congrats on 300 followers !! 🎉) - 🧸 anon

Prompt #69: “Can I hold your hand?”

CW: fluff, kisses, mild pining, chivalrous behavior, gn!Reader

"Can I hold your hand?"

“What?” You blink at Matt. He gives you that devilishly charming smile in return. The one that’s achingly lazy and oh so warm. It melts you completely.

“Can I hold your hand?” He holds out his own. After a moment, you take it. You weren’t ever really gonna say no. Not to an opportunity you’ve been dreaming about for months.

You walk with him, sticking close on the busy sidewalk. You’re barely paying attention though, too busy focusing on the feel of his calloused hand against yours.

He takes you out for lunch. And then walks you home. It’s the most giddy you’ve felt in months. He treats you so normally, but with so much grace it feels… special. He makes you feel special.

And when he kisses your hand at the door, lips lingering against your skin for a touch longer than necessary? When his lips are pillow soft and his kiss slow and gentle? You could combust into a thousand starbursts and still feel enraptured.

You’re so in love with him. And for the first time in ages, it seems like you finally have a chance.

[nocakeanywhere]

Lethargy

Where Sanemi tries to carry her to bed but unexpected touches make it very, very difficult.

OR

Sanemi is an idiot when it comes to physical contact, especially when her lips keep brushing his skin (very, very, very mildly suggestive)

-

Gray clouds blanket the sky like a heavy omen, its dreary weight leaving little light to brighten the noon. Rhythmic drops accompany Sanemi's motions as he finishes up cleaning the dishes in the kitchen.

He had just finished a meal with Yoshida, partaking in warm soup and a pleasant meal to suit the weather. And, as per usual—which was a strange notion to Sanemi that there was now a usual—he had gathered the dishes and gruffly insisted that Yoshida go about her tasks without bothering him. Of course, he reasoned, it seemed only right that he should do his part as a guest of her estate.

Over the months of sporadically visiting the Yoshida estate between his travels, he had found himself taking on tasks he deemed only appropriate as a gesture of gratitude for allowing his unexpected and unannounced stays. Taking the dishes, airing out the futons, fixing the roof, hell, he even learned how to organize the stacks of medicinal herbs and chemicals Yoshida used to treat her patients. It was all very unusual to Sanemi, to keep coming back to one place and even settling into a sort of routine. A domesticity, even. One he never thought to entertain during his days in the Corps, and certainly one he didn't think he could muster again after the death of his siblings.

What was even stranger is that, gradually, the things he's been doing in the estate started to feel less like obligatory tasks. The feeling of steadiness and predictability of mundane tasks was one he unknowingly relished, the emotion a stark contrast to the entire identity of anger and spontaneity he's constructed for himself. Yet here he was, times away from the final battle, enjoying how the water felt in his hands and how shimmered slightly under the dim light. Perhaps, it was so, that there was a different sense of contentment when there was a certain person at his side, asking him to open a container, reach on higher shelves, or taste the food. It incurred strange feelings in Sanemi, this domesticity he's developed with Yoshida.

The feeling that would twinge in his chest at the slight brightening of her face when she tastes his food, the way she's started to linger more closely when they cook together in the kitchen, or in her gentle touches and lucid gaze when she talks to him. Even now, as he wipes his hands, her small smile flashes in his mind and he quickly shakes his head with a groan. Seriously, he couldn't understand what he was feeling.

And so, with an exasperated huff, Sanemi walks out of the kitchen, a walking emotional chaos and confused fool, heading towards Yoshida's study just to check on her. Was it any of his business what she's doing right now? Absolutely not. Why does he care? No fucking clue. But his feet continued to stride like a detached body part, powered by indescribable feelings and a frustrated Sanemi.

He reaches Yoshida's study silently, stopping shortly before the open entrance and peeking inside. A brief panic overcomes him as he takes in Yoshida's slumped figure only to realize that she was resting on her arms and breathing deeply. Sanemi enters the room tentatively as to not wake her and notices how her desk was cluttered with papers, notes, and medical records. He figured she must have been noting down her current patient's information before she unknowingly fell asleep. Admittedly, he had never seen her slack off on her duties as a doctor, and Sanemi respected her for that. She was quick in her work and efficient in her tasks, yet she maintained a composure and patience he could never fathom how. And so, it was certainly a strange sight to see her sleeping in the middle of her tasks.

Sanemi notes how she had buried her head in her arms and how she doesn't stir even at the creaks of floorboards as he enters. A sliver of worry creeps up to Sanemi despite the rising and falling of her chest.

He approaches her desk quietly and takes in the mess, a frustrated sigh escaping him as he roughly ruffles his hair in annoyance. He doesn't know why he sighs nor why he's so annoyed. And he certainly doesn't know why he's bookmarking each page she's left open on her books and stacking them together neatly on the side, or why he's putting away the brushes and inkstones she's used, grumbling all while about the mess. Nevertheless, here he is, acting like some husband to her, cleaning up her mess, and worrying, and, gods, the thought of that made Sanemi's stomach flip.

Once he's done acting like a not-husband, Sanemi momentarily stares at Yoshida's figure before tentatively placing a hand on her shoulder to very gently shake her. And the gentleness in how he touches her unnerves Sanemi, the action a jarring opposite of how he sees himself. He bends down slightly so he could look at her properly when she turns her head just to check on her.

"Yoshida." He shakes her again, and she stirs this time. A low hum escapes her as she turns her head in her arms, her loose hair curtaining her face. Like a spectator to his own body, Sanemi watches how he gently tucks her hair behind her ear to get a view of her face with a sobering apall. Who the hell is this guy?!

"C'mon, idiot," he urges, softly, hand still lingering on her hair. "Let's get you to bed."

Yoshida only looks back at him silently through sleepy eyes, and Sanemi notes how her gaze looks a little...unfocused. He bends down lower to get a clearer view of her face, now noticing the bags under her eyes and the exhaustion in its depths. She must have been working herself to the bone again during the time he was gone, especially with her apprentice being currently away. Sanemi's brows furrow in concern as he places a hand on her forehead, relieved that it wasn't unusually warm or anything.

He feels up the rest of her face just to confirm and Yoshida, in turn, responds with a small whimper and turns her head back in her arms.

Sanemi's eyebrow twitches in annoyance. "Oh, hell no."

He goes behind her and pulls Yoshida's chair backwards, forcing her to carry her weight and sit up. Another whine escapes Yoshida and she turns to lightly glare at Sanemi who only looks back with an unamused expression.

"C'mon." He sighs before unceremoniously scooping her up from her chair and earning a yelp from Yoshida. Sanemi adjusts her hold on her as he carries her bridal style, effortlessly shifting her weight properly so she's more comfortable. Sanemi, on the other hand, is anything but. It helped that Yoshida didn't resist being carried but, instead, much to Sanemi distress, she also decided to melt into him and lean her weight as he carries her.

Now, Sanemi's carried plenty of people before, rescuing victims, taking away villagers, all done in an effortless manner constrained by ruthless efficiency and practicality. That, of course, includes women. Women his age, even. Yet not once has he felt as conscious of them as he does now with Yoshida in his arms. The way her body fits snugly against his, how close their skins are to touching, and how his hands tingled warmly despite being able to lift her with little effort. His stomach flips once again and his heartbeat resounds a bit more loudly in his ears.

Yoshida doesn't appear to be bothered or fazed by Sanemi's turmoil even as he took a breath, more shaky than he would have liked, to steady himself...emotionally. So he continues forward, walking out of the study while trying to keep Yoshida steady. Nonetheless, the rocking movement must have bothered Yoshida since as soon as he walks out, she slowly wraps her arms around Sanemi's neck in a loose embrace and languidly settles her head on the crook of his neck.

Goddamn it.

He feels his breath hitch at how he could feel her breath against his skin. So, so close, the warmth seeping into him and burning brighter than it should. So much so that he feels the strange warmth creeping up his face and the queasiness in his stomach intensifying. But he doesn't make a move to pull her away and damn it, he doesn't know why. Well, for one, it's certainly strange that Yoshida is initiating all this contact when her usual composure does so only by necessity of her profession. The sudden shift perturbes him slightly, but decides to blam it on the exhaustion. For another, Sanemi just couldn't bother to dwell on whatever emotions he's dealing with right now.

He's never liked physical contact, found it unnecessary or ill motivated most times. Frankly, with his appearance, it was a luxury to expect touches beyond the necessary and driven by survival. Yet here he is acting like some damn adolescent over some measly touches. Fucking hell, something's always going wrong with him whenever he's with Yoshida. Even now, as he walks the hallway in the gloomy afternoon of spring, the warmth of her breath at his neck sends shivers down his spine for reasons he would rather not ponder. In fact, from how closely she has embraced him, he could feel her lips grazing his skin every second. The slight chap in her lips, the way it parts when it grazes him, and the way it presses on him when she shifts lightly in her position. The cruelty of such unknowing brushes and intimacy is felt by Sanemi alone, in his agony and turmoil as he finds it harder to breathe with every step closer to her room. So close, yet so far. It feels like an eternity to Sanemi, having to deal with the constant shiver and tightening in his core with every contact.

Mercifully, he reaches Yoshida's room and shifts her entire weight on one arm as his other slides open her door. With a grimace, he realizes that he still has to lay out the futon.

"Oi," he looks at her and bounces her lightly in his arm. "Stand up on your own."

His command is only met with a whine and Yoshida tightens her embrace on him and nuzzles deeper into his neck.

Sanemi just freezes. Even as the warmth in his face grows and even spreads to all the wrong places. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

If the touches earlier were a tentative teasing, now a determined onslaught presses onto his neck like a damn curse. Her lips now press harder onto his skin and slowly trails up his neck, stopping at the tender parts below his jaw before moving back down. Perhaps they can't be considered kisses, not when it's merely brushing on him repeatedly, but damn it, he doesn't want it to stop.

At this point, Sanemi Shinazugawa's breathing has become labored, heavier, panting as he unconsciously tilts his head to give more access to her lips, and Yoshida's silent answer moves closer to the bob in his throat. As she presses onto that tender part beside his adam's apple, he could feel her lips part more from having moved from one place to another, and even just the feeling of her lips slightly opening has his imagination running haywire.

Yes, he could feel it already, the way her lips would close around his skin, lightly sucking on it and perhaps teasingly running her tongue over-

The deep moan that escapes his mouth shocks him like a thousand thunderbolts. Fucking hell, is this how he finds out his neck is sensitive as hell?

He quickly shifts Yoshida away from him and glares at her like the unreasonable fool he is. His glare is only met with a confused and muddled expression as her flushed face looks at him through lethargic eyes. Some foolish and very much unacknowledged part of Sanemi trills at the thought that perhaps she was just as flustered as he was and that maybe he does have an effect on her.

She's fucking tired, you idiot.

His logic startles him from whatever delusion he's having, and guilt washes over him as he realizes he was just standing there like an idiot when he should have gone and put her to bed and not acting like some raging, hormonal fool. And it's at this point that he realizes that perhaps Yoshida acts affectionately when she's reached total exhaustion, like a sleepwalking habit maybe. And an unexpected relief washes over Sanemi at him being here instead of some rando on the streets she was treating. It's a dangerous prospect, and the thought of Yoshida doing this with another man makes Sanemi's brow twitch unknowingly and causes a pang in his chest he couldn't name.

To avoid his spiral of thoughts, Sanemi puts her down gently and Yoshida, thank the gods, lets go of him without protest this time. She stays in place and watches Sanemi silently as he enters her room and grabs the futon, blankets, and pillows to lay it out. Once he's done, before he could even call out Yoshida, she wordlessly approaches him and plops down ungracefully on top of the blankets.

Sanemi lets out a huff in disbelief and shakes her lightly, hoping she hasn't immediately fallen asleep. "Atleast get under the covers, idiot."

When she doesn't stir, he heaves another sigh and gently moves her over to tuck her in properly. The peaceful look on her face confirms that she has, in fact, fallen asleep as soon as she hit the bed. After making sure she's comfortable and well, he finally leaves her room and breathes a long, long exhale.

Finally left by his lonesome, his mind immediately replays everything that happened in the few minutes he was with Yoshida. Damn it, is he really this pathetic? Regret and embarrassment settle on him as he recalls the spiralling thoughts he had. He roughly tousles his hair in frustration. Is he even allowed to feel like this? She's Genya's benefactor, for goodness' sake. She deserves more respect than what he just showed, damn it. Sure, he's never engaged in an intimate relationship with a woman before, having always found it burdensome. He saw pleasure as something that could open his weakest moment to his enemies and so, avoided it in favor of staving off his desires. Perhaps that was why now, with the threat of the demons gone, it had finally revealed itself, bearing its fangs like a beast hiding in the dark. And it just had to be Yoshida that it first pounced on. But no, it wasn't an occurrence that could have happened with any woman he'd come across. No, it was Yoshida who he had shown enough of himself where he could let his guard down around and perhaps have even started to care for her. But Sanemi isn't one to dwell on his emotions so he stops there, stops at that thought and leaves it at that.

And so, with a frown and his signature glare on his face, Sanemi Shinazugawa storms off like the idiot he is.

-

Yes, I hc that Sanemi's a virgin cuz guys...i genuinely think he hated any form of vulnerability he could show and that includes the high from having sex. Also, i think Sanemi respects women a lot which was rooted in his admiration for his mother from having put up with his father, but he doesn't show it in conventional ways cuz he's an impolite idiot. So, yeah, that also extends to respecting women in sexual aspects and not treating them like objects for satisfaction. Naturally, he absolutely hates it when women are mistreated. Sure, he dislikes certain personalities on women, but I also read from a post somewhere and yes I hc it now too that Sanemi likes gentle mannered women that sort of reminds him of his mother's touch (not in a weird way calm down).

[inell]

I would love a teeny musical buddie fic for your challenge please 💖

The song that came up on shuffle was Only You by The Platters. I used the lyrics to inspire this little bit of romantic fluff. Hope you enjoy, @sharpbutsoft ! And thank you for challenging me!!!

Thrill Me Like You Do

Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2320

An unexpected kiss over breakfast dishes leads to Buck asking Eddie out for their first date.

The park that’s hosting the outdoor movie showing is a half-hour drive from Eddie’s house. Well, really, his house. No, that isn’t right, either. Their house. That’s what it is now. It’s only been two weeks since Eddie and Chris moved back from El Paso, so Buck’s still trying to wrap his brain around that new reality. Sharing a house with his best friend. His partner. And, as of yesterday at six eighteen in the morning, his future husband.

Glancing at Eddie, Buck can’t help the stupid grin he knows is on his face. Future husband might be exaggerating considering it had actually been a first kiss while they’d been washing the breakfast dishes. Buck’s left arm currently has three small bruises on it from where he’s pinched himself since Eddie leaned over and kissed him, just needing a reminder this is real and not a daydream brought on by unrequited love for his straight best friend.

Read here on AO3!

[sigyns-drafts]

Hey there, can I request for ROR anubis x modern reader where the reader is bored and try to summon anubis for fun and think it wouldn't work, but it end up working and now there a random Anubis in her room feel free to add what after this ~ thank you

A/N: Gladly anon! I'd love to write about silly little nubby. Hope it's what you wanted ♡

The unlikely jackal-headed companion 🐺🎃

Ror!Anubis x fem!reader

➩ A modern day girl who's favourite interest had always been Egyptian mythology, especially the god Anubis.

Found her adult life to be rather boring, so when she stumbled upon a website that could help her summon these ancient gods.

For fun she tries it, not expecting it to work until she is proven wrong and now Anubis himself has entered the mortal realm, as well as her home.

➩ Reader type: fem!reader.

⚠: Platonic & Romantic Fluff!!

In a small suburban town, nestled between towering buildings and grey streets, lived a young lonesome woman named y/n.

She was currently seated in her room adorned with posters of ancient Egyptian art and books, filled with its fascinating mythology, gods and history.

Something y/n had been fond of ever since she was a child.

But life as an adult was rather boring now, with work and other tasks keeping her away from her interests and hobbies.

Until y/n felt that sudden urge of curiosity again, rushing through her mind and body.

Soon enough y/n found herself engrossed scrolling online, stumbling upon an online tutorial on summoning the ancient Egyptian gods.

Half out of scepticism and half out of sheer boredom, y/n decided to try the summoning ritual for Anubis.

After all, Anubis was one of her favourite deities. Y/n chuckled at the stupidity and the fact this wasn't going to work.

Because it wouldn't, right?

She gathered the necessary items - candles, incense, and a makeshift altar adorned with skulls and other trinkets she found around the house.

Thinking to herself:

"If Anubis really does exist he would definitely like these, hah!"

As y/n chanted the ancient words she had gotten from the website, with a hint of amusement, she never expected anything to happen.

But to her surprise, a sudden wind and glow enveloped the room, and a mysterious figure materialised before her.

Anubis, the god of the afterlife with his jackal head, stood before her in all his majestic glory.

Y/n eyes widened in disbelief as she stumbled backward, tripping and falling to the ground. Her heart was racing in her chest, more than ever before.

"W-What..?! That wasn't supposed to-"

Y/n stutters to herself, trying to keep her cool as she shakes uncontrollably at Anubis's presence.

Anubis, as he looked around the room slowly, taking in his new surroundings was still barely visible to really make out. Because of the sudden glow to have hit the room.

While trying to adjust her sight, y/n was certain Anubis was here to collect her soul or at least judge her heart for having called upon him as a joke.

However, to her shock when the god spoke, he sounded rather thrilled to be there.

"Well, this was unexpected and delightful!" he exclaimed, his voice resonating through the room.

It wasn't as deep and booming as y/n had imagined it sounding like.

In fact, he sounded like an excited puppy who somehow knew how to talk.

Did she hit her head when she fell and was now dreaming, or perhaps even worse had she gone mad?

Unused to being summoned in the modern world, Anubis continues to look around with childlike wonder, his dark eyes sparkling.

Y/n was almost left with her mouth wide open when she finally got to see and admire the god before her.

His head wasn't actually the head of a jackal, but instead it was his headwear!

Underneath all that he was a handsome man, with dark tanned skin, sharp teeth and piercings on his chin, but also tongue.

Y/n had to gulp and blush slightly to herself, for some reason feeling embarrassed about this humanoid form of his.

Noticing y/n's bewilderment, Anubis approached her closer with a grin, offering his hand to help the woman up.

"Greetings, mortal! I am Anubis, the guardian of the afterlife. What brings you to summon me today?"

Stammering, y/n managed to grab a hold of the gods hand reluctantly while replying, she was scared his sharp nails or claws would touch her at first.

"I... I didn't really think this would work, please forgive me my lord!"

Anubis chuckled lightly, his soft laughter was admittedly very cute making y/n's heart skip a little beat.

"The whims of mortals! Fear not, if this wasn't a part of your plan I totally understand! But if you don't mind me asking, what assistance can I be to you then?"

With a nervous expression, y/n took a deep breath and the chance to think about it.

What could she possibly come up with to make Anubis, a literal god's time, be worth the while in the mortals realm?

"I suppose..somehow entertain me? If that isn't too much to ask for of course!! It's just that, these days are quite uneventful.."

Y/n to ease her nerves starts twirling some of her hair using her index finger.

A common habit she did whenever she needed a distraction.

Anubis, realising the woman was still tense, smirks to himself and thinks about a way to help her.

"Then I am here to make your mundane day more thrilling, my lady! I see your room is decorated with quite a few familiar things."

He happily pointed out, already seeing y/n's eyes light up at his comment and sharp eye.

"Oh really?! I'm so glad you find them familiar, I was afraid it would look weird to you somehow, considering I'm not from ancient Egypt!"

"Hey, don't worry about it, I love seeing people appreciate my culture."

"Phew, what a relief..!"

"But a particular reason why I am your favourite~?" Anubis without warning teased y/n, raising his eyebrow as his face leaned in close to hers.

It felt like her whole body was about to explode and her face turned red.

Damn it! She should have prepared herself for this question considering the jackal headed gods depiction was included almost everywhere!

"W-Well, you are my favourite..!"

Y/n responded in a panic, was he seriously playing with her right now?

Was this a way to catch her off guard or to test her in some way or another?

Before y/n could say anything any further, Anubis, ever the playful deity, leaped into the air out of pure happiness.

"Yippee~!!" The god exclaimed as he accidentally landed near her.

The sudden weight caused y/n to lose her balance, and she tumbled onto the bed alongside the ancient god.

"Oh uh..that was an accident, I didn't mean to scare or get that excited!"

Anubis pleaded, genuinely upset about his actions. He quickly got off y/n but all the woman could do was sigh as she had accepted her new fate.

"Honestly, this is already keeping me entertained enough."

[alastor-simp]

Slow Dance With You - Sylus x Fem Reader

♦︎ 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜- 𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

♦︎ 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎- 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚁𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎

♦𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜- 𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚘, 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍, 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍, 𝙽109 𝚉𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙳𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎, 𝙰𝚍𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜

♦𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜- 𝙶𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙸 𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝙼𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 2, 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚘 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘. 𝙴𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 :)

♦𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝- 𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 -> @adornedwithlight

"Yawnnnnn." Opening your mouth like a fish, you sounded out your boredom, as your body laid against the large leather couch in the living room. You were in the Onychinus base, located in the N109 zone, having been invited by Sylus himself to converse with one another, only for him to be called away for an important call, leaving you alone for a bit. It saddened you that he had to go, but you knew he was an important man, being the leader and all. The two of you had gotten closer ever since your first encounter in the N109 zone, with him erasing the man in front of you with his Evol. The way about him irked you, since you believed he was the cause for the explosion that killed your loved ones. It soon came to be that he was never the cause, making you feel extremely horrible for pinning it on him, the extreme hate for him evaporating without a trace.

He had declared the two of you as "besties", but over time, something else had sprouted between the both of you. His sassy remarks and cute nicknames were growing on you, face becoming flushed whenever he called you "kitten." His demeanor around you had changed as well, his once cold eyes filled with warmth whenever you were around, devilish smirk morphing into a kind smile that could melt your heart. The relationship between the two of you was becoming complicated, not so much friends but no lovers either, it frustrated you, wanting to become closer with him, yet fearing it at the same time since the both of you were enemies.

Stretching your legs, you removed yourself from the couch, heading towards the door, leading to the long hallway. You might as well go explore a bit, since sitting around doing nothing was getting tiring. There were many rooms in the base, each reflecting a lot of Sylus's personality, one room containing a gym where he worked out, another room filled with vinyls showing his love for music. Picking a random door, you grasped the handle, opening it slowly to peak inside.

The room was dimly lit, only source of light coming from the window and the lamp that was lit. Books were layered in stacks, on the floor and in the shelves. Various instruments were in random places in the room, spotting a violin and a beautiful elegant piano in the center

Stepping inside, you took the whole room in, until your eyes locked back onto the piano. It was crafted perfectly, figuring Sylus must have spent a fortune for a piano like this. Lifting up the board, fingers traced along the keys, pressing down to allow a note to echo throughout the whole room. It has been a while since you have ever played a piano before, remembering how much you enjoyed it when you were little. Sitting on the chair, you took a deep breath, hands hovering over the keys, until they pressed down, a soothing melody playing out. As you carried on playing, your body swayed with the music, mouth opening to sing.

🎶𝘚𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶

𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶

𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘴

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶

𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶

𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦?

𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷e

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶🎶

Finishing the last note, your song was finished, leaving you pleased. Sounds of clapping came from behind you, making you turn, seeing a tall figure standing at the door. It was Sylus leaning against the door frame, crimson eyes gazing at you while wearing his signature smirk. "Didn't know you could sing, kitten." Flustered that he had caught you, you turned away from him. "You never asked." You said, hands motioning to close the top board, covering the piano keys again. Footsteps thudded behind you, indicating that Sylus was walking closer. A hand had motioned to grab your chin, allowing him to observe you. "Acting shy now, are we?" He was teasing you, making you put your hands on his chest, pushing him back. "Stop messing with me." You said, eyes glaring at him. Appearing apologetic, Sylus patted your head, "I'm not teasing you, sweetie. Your singing was incredibly angelic. I quite enjoyed it" His eyes soften, hand going from your chin to trace your cheek. Blushing harder, you dropped your head down, feeling more embarrassed then before, "Thanks."

Sylus chuckled, his cold eyes staring at you warmly, something not many got to see when they met the Onychinus leader. Recalling the lyrics of the song, he had an important question to ask you. "So? Who is it?" Eyeing him with confusion, you pondered what he meant. Noticing your confusion, Sylus decided to expand his question, "Who is the person you want to slow dance with, sweetie?" Oh, that's what he meant, the only answer you could provide him was a shrug, saying the song wasn't really dedicated to anyone, just something you came up with in the moment. Sylus, removing his hands from you, stood straight, eyes looking down at you. "Well, do you want to?" Sylus bowed, hand held in front of you, waiting for you to take it.

His actions stunned you, not expecting him to do this. "You want to slow dance? With me?" Sylus narrowed his eyes, "Do you see someone else here in the room, sweetie? Besides, it wouldn't be the first time we danced." Recalling the mission from the past, you remembered that you had slowed dance before, but that was part of the mission, wasn't it. "That was different back then...um..." Unable to word how you felt, you casted your eyes down. His narrow eyes soften, "Well this won't be like back then, and I want to dance with you." Looking back at him, you saw how tender his gaze was, showcasing how sincere he was. Pushing back the feelings of unease, you agreed, placing your hand in his.

Smiling further, Sylus pulled you closer, hand placed against your waist, face getting closer to his chest. You flushed, but kept it cool, motioning one of your hands to his shoulder. His Evol had appeared, flowing to a record player that was on the other side of the room, allowing soft classical music to play. The both of you then began to sway to the rhythm, yet you were a bit tense, not being a really good dancer, afraid you would step on his shoes. "Heh, relax kitten. It's just you and me here." Sylus gave you a sincere smile, hoping it would be enough to calm you down. "Sorry....I don't want to step on your shoes." You looked down below, monitoring your feet, hoping they wouldn't step on top of his. Stopping for a second, he inched his face closer, forehead pressing against yours. "My shoes are not important right now. The only thing important is the both of us dancing together."

Your heart felt like it was gonna beat out of its chest, butterflies fluttering inside your stomach. Only he could make you feel like this. Smiling up at Sylus, you nuzzled your forehead back against his, causing him to chuckle. The dancing continued, the tense feelings disappearing without a trace. Leaning in, you placed your head against his chest, wanting to be closer to him, allowing you to hear his heartbeat. Sylus didn't utter a word at your actions, smiling more at how adorable you were, his hand on your waist pulling you closer. After awhile, the record player had ceased playing, yet the two of you remained in the same position, slow dancing to your heart's content, never wanting it to end

-END-

[badboydevotee]

One In A Million

Summary: In the clover field. Haru gifts you a rare four-leaf clover, wishing for your happiness. When you jokingly compare it to a wedding proposal, he surprises you by asking, "What if it really is?" As emotions unfold between you, the moment turns into a heartfelt confession—one that feels like fate. You realize that love, not luck, brought you to him.

The warm breeze carried the soft rustling of leaves, the sun casting golden light over a sprawling field of clovers. The air smelled fresh, tinged with the delicate sweetness of wildflowers that had begun to bloom at the edges of the field. You and Haru stood amidst the sea of green, the world around you hushed, as if nature itself had paused to listen to the words neither of you had spoken yet.

Haru had been leading you on one of his spontaneous adventures, dragging you away from the Jabberwock house under the pretext of “urgent business.” But in reality, he had no particular destination in mind—only the desire to spend time with you, away from the weight of responsibilities and the never-ending work that usually consumed his days.

As you wandered through the field, Haru suddenly knelt down, his gloved fingers sifting through the clovers. His expression was unusually serious, his normally playful demeanor subdued as he searched for something hidden among the leaves. You watched him curiously, tilting your head.

“Haru? What are you doing?” you asked, stepping closer.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, a small triumphant smile spread across his lips as he plucked a tiny clover from the ground and held it up for you to see. It had four perfect leaves, a rare find—a symbol of luck and fortune.

“Here,” he said, extending it toward you. “One in a million. Just like you.”

Your heart gave a sudden, startled thump in your chest. The way he said it, so effortlessly, so naturally—it made warmth rise to your cheeks. You hesitated before taking the delicate clover from his gloved hand, cradling it between your fingers as if it were something fragile and precious.

Haru watched you with a soft gaze, his ever-present smile carrying something deeper this time. “I wish you happy days,” he murmured, his voice quieter than usual, lacking its usual teasing edge. “No hardships. No loneliness. Not as long as I’m here.”

The sincerity in his words caught you off guard, made your breath hitch. You felt something swell in your chest, an emotion so full it was almost overwhelming. Without thinking, the words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them.

“This feels like a wedding proposal.”

Silence.

Your eyes widened in horror at your own words. Your hands flew up to cover your mouth, as if you could somehow take them back. Heat rushed to your face, the embarrassment so intense you thought you might just melt into the earth.

For a moment, Haru simply stared at you, frozen. Then, to your surprise, a soft chuckle escaped him. It wasn’t mocking, nor was it dismissive. It was warm—genuine.

“What if it really is?” he asked, his voice laced with something unreadable, something tender.

Your breath caught. He was looking at you now, really looking at you—not as the ever-cheerful Haru who dragged people into his antics, not as the tireless captain who took on more than he should, but simply as a man standing before you, offering you a piece of his heart in the form of a tiny, four-leaf clover.

A moment stretched between you, a heartbeat suspended in time. And then, slowly, you smiled.

“Then I’m glad to spend my life with you.”

Haru’s eyes widened slightly before his expression softened, his smile curving into something almost vulnerable. For the first time, he looked as though he had found something he hadn’t even realized he was searching for.

He reached out, gently tucking the clover behind your ear, his gloved fingers lingering against your skin.

“Then I’ll take care of you,” he whispered, his forehead lightly pressing against yours. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

The wind carried the sound of rustling leaves and distant birdsong, but all you could hear was the steady rhythm of your own heart, beating in time with his.

In that golden field of clovers, surrounded by the quiet beauty of nature, you knew—this moment, this feeling, was luck beyond measure.

The two of you sat together, the field embracing you in its warmth, the sky above painted in soft hues of orange and lavender as the sun began to dip. Haru, ever the lighthearted one, leaned back onto his elbows, gazing up at the sky with a peaceful expression. You sat beside him, the four-leaf clover still delicately placed behind your ear.

“You know,” Haru mused, his voice carrying a hint of laughter, “I think this is the first time in a long while that I’ve felt… at ease.”

You turned your head toward him, curiosity evident in your gaze. “Really?”

He nodded, shifting slightly so that he was facing you again. “Being captain of the Jabberwock house… it’s a lot. I’ve always had to be the one keeping everything together. Making sure everything is running smoothly, making sure people and anomalies don’t lose their way.” His voice softened. “But with you… I don’t have to do any of that. With you, I can just… be.”

The weight of his words settled in your chest, heavy with unspoken emotion. Haru, who always seemed so full of energy, so tirelessly dedicated to his work, had never shown this side of himself before. The side that longed for rest, for comfort—

For love.

You reached out, hesitating for only a second before taking his hand in yours. His fingers curled around yours instinctively, as if they had always belonged there.

“I want you to have that,” you murmured. “A place where you can be at peace.”

He let out a small breath, almost like a laugh, but there was no humor in it—only gratitude, only warmth. He squeezed your hand, his grip firm yet gentle.

“I think I already found it,” he admitted, tilting his head slightly. “And it’s with you.”

Your heart swelled, the setting sun casting golden light across the both of you as the field of clovers swayed in the evening breeze. In that quiet moment, as the world around you stood still, you realized—

You weren’t just lucky.

You were home.

As night fell, the stars blinked to life above you, scattered across the sky like a blessing. Haru stretched, letting out a yawn, before turning his gaze toward you once more.

“Should we head back?” he asked, though there was no real urgency in his voice.

You hesitated, reluctant to leave the peacefulness of the moment. But then Haru stood and extended his hand toward you. “Come on,” he said with a grin, “I think we have plenty of adventures left to go on. And now… we do them together.”

You took his hand, feeling the warmth of his grip, and let him pull you up. As you walked hand in hand toward the horizon, you knew that wherever you went, as long as Haru was beside you, you’d never walk alone again.

But as you reached the edge of the field, he suddenly stopped, pulling you back gently. Haru glanced over his shoulder, his smile turning softer, more contemplative.

“One more thing,” he murmured. Without warning, he cupped your cheek, pressing a light kiss against your forehead. “For good luck,” he teased, though the emotion behind it ran far deeper.

Your fingers brushed over the clover behind your ear as you smiled up at him, your heart filled with something that could never be just luck—something rare, something true.

Something like love.

Ao3 vers.

[junodoom]

last post for mermay 💕

[aventurineswife]

sunday, aventurine, etc (separately) with an elysia {hi3} personality reader?

i love ur fics btw remember to take care of urself 🤍

Chasing Stars and Sweet Nothings

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Elysia like personality!Reader, Romantic Fluff, Playful Romance, Lighthearted Moments, Mystery, Attraction, Comfort and Warmth, Thoughtful Conversation, Soft Sunday, Flirtation, Teasing, Emotional Healing, Philosophical Undertones.

A/N: I'm not sure if I wrote this correctly but I had to read the wiki for the personality, so I hope I got it right 😪 also thank you, anon! I appreciate it and take care of yourself too!! 🤭🫶💖🤧

Aventurine had always prided himself on his ability to read people, but you? You were a mystery wrapped in rose-colored laughter and mischief, and he couldn’t help but be drawn to it.

One evening, as the city lights painted your silhouettes with a glow, Aventurine watched you twirl in the warm night air, a contented smile on your face. “You know, every time I look at you, I can’t help but wonder what you’re hiding.” he murmured, amused but curious.

You laughed, your voice like chimes in the quiet. “Now, why would I hide anything from you, Mr. Big Shot Investor?” you teased, leaning into his shoulder with a playful grin. “Unless, of course, you’re willing to wager a bit more of your time to find out?”

He smirked, placing his hand on your waist, leading you into a gentle sway. “With you, everything’s a gamble,” he said, “but for once, I don’t mind risking it all.” You laughed softly, eyes sparkling with a hidden depth, drawing him in like the cards he played so expertly.

As you leaned closer, whispering sweet nothings and absurd promises, Aventurine found himself unable to focus on anything but you. You were a mystery he would never fully unravel, yet it was in your lighthearted laughter and gentle teasing that he found something he’d never bet on—a sense of peace.

“Stay with me tonight?” he asked, a rare softness crossing his face. You gazed up at him, smiling as if you already knew the answer long before he’d asked. "Only if you promise we’ll make it interesting.” you replied, leaving a trail of laughter as you pulled him into the unknown.

Sunday was used to people who followed his vision, who sought comfort in his promises of a painless dream, but you… you were a delightful anomaly, never quite fitting into any category he’d known.

“You look so serious, Sunday,” you cooed, nudging him playfully. “Why all the gloomy thoughts when you’re with me?” Your smile was radiant, as if the world’s sorrow never even grazed your spirit, and he found himself taken aback.

“Not everyone views the world with such… resilience,” he replied, his tone softer than usual. “Most seek peace, an escape from suffering.”

You chuckled, twirling a strand of his hair as if you’d known him forever. “Ah, but what is life without a little excitement? You don’t think your ‘Sweetdream Paradise’ would get boring after a while?” You raised an eyebrow, your tone teasing, yet sincere.

Sunday’s gaze softened, his golden eyes reflecting an unspoken conflict. “Perhaps. But there’s a kindness in sparing people from pain, is there not?”

You tilted your head, pressing a gentle hand to his cheek. “Kindness, yes, but people need a spark too. Just think, Sunday—if we never knew pain, how could we ever appreciate happiness?” You flashed a cheeky smile and continued, “Even you, my noble dreamer, wouldn’t want to miss out on a bit of thrill, right?”

He chuckled, an uncommon sound for him, but one that felt entirely natural in your presence. “Perhaps there’s merit in your way of thinking,” he admitted, his hand resting atop yours. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “But tonight, I’d like to learn from your world, where joy mingles with challenge. Show me how you see it.”

You beamed up at him, slipping your arm through his. “It’s a date, then! Let’s make this world unforgettable together.” With you, even Sunday’s unwavering dream began to flicker with shades of something new, something alive.

[yjhzies]

“Music to my ears.” — Xu Minghao

Genre: fluff, fluff and FLUFF Warning: mentions of horanghae (😨) Pairings: minghao x gn!reader Word count: 0.2k

[💿] : tiptoe by hybs

What could possibly soothe Minghao the most when he is worn out from rigorous practices, hectic schedules, and—most importantly—being away from you because of concert tours?

Your voice.

He would frequently call you to see how you were doing and, more importantly, just to hear your voice. It's like a natural remedy for his problems. Sounds corny? It's really not. At least not for Minghao.

Furthermore, you are fully aware that the moment your voice reaches his ears, he literally melts. Taking full advantage of it to comfort him whenever he is feeling down is your (not-so) secret weapon. There are times when you would hum a song and he would drift off to sleep peacefully in your arms.

Even when you're (lovingly) scolding him, he chuckles to himself because you and your voice? Adorable. He would sometimes ask you to say something or hum a song so he could relax by listening to your voice.

Not when you do this though...

"Love?"

"Hm?"

"Can you say something? Even just a single word."

"...horanghae?"

Because now, he is just sulking. But he loves it, though. You and your ways of teasing him.

As much as it sounds exaggerated. Maybe he is just as addicted to your voice as he is to you. He doesn't appear to be that type of person, but you know he is the biggest softie for you.

"Your voice is music to my ears." — He tells you this all the time.

[blackynsupremacy]

THREE STOOGES

pairings: nicholas a. chavez x black!reader (romantic) cooper koch x black!reader (platonic)

summary: you, your best friend, and your boyfriend text about anything under the sun.

subject: candy part one

a/n: this is basically part three to “caught in 4k” part two to this text thread will be up tonight!

contains: text fic, crackfic, chaos, comedy, swearing, suggestiveness, flirting, playful banter, playful arguing, memes, humor, fluff, nicholas and reader are in an established relationship.

taglist: @thabiddie23 @greengoblinswifey @oscarisaackissmykitty @austeenbootler @supaprettyg @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @hoffmansgirl @sheydnni @venic-bxtch @babyseolar @sabrinasopposite @motherismotheringggg @titsout4nicholas @afrogirl3005 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip

[deepperplexity]

Prompt 24: Christmas Party [OS]

Pairing: Snape x GN!Muggle!Reader

POV: Third, Snape

Setting: Snape lives AU, set many, many years after the Second Wizarding War and life has been kind to Severus at last — with you by his side.

A/N: It’s Christmas Eve darlings! Merry Christmas! 😍🎄✨ We’re in full swing with the celebrations and with the in-laws visiting it’s quite nice. For those who don’t know me, my husband is from Hong Kong and so we have quite different cultures, language barriers (no shared language despite having many languages between us) etc in our family but we always end up having such a great time 🥰

I wish you all the best holiday and I hope next year will be amazing! Let’s end this year’s Rickmas with some Old-Happy-Snape 😍❤

Tags/TW’s: Fluff, Cuteness, Snape Lives, Old Snape, Love, Kissing, Hugging, Comfort, Happiness, Domestic Fluff, HAPPY SNAPE, COMFORT READ

Word Count: 1.1k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

Christmas Party

There was little to do for him. You always sorted everything needed, with a smile so bright and a warmth so strong he would never have enough of it. Each year, as if it were a magical law, you turned into an energetic ball of joy with a need to decorate every surface of the little house he had come to feel at home in — a feeling he never expected to experience. It had been years of this warmth now, years of having a bright home and that odd feeling in his gut that came with complete relaxation.

It was all you, of course. It had nothing to do with the cosy kitchen where your favourite mug and his stood side by side next to the kettle. It had little to do with the fireplace of natural stone dressed in garlands and two stockings with his and your name hand-stitched into the white fabric in the living room. There was nothing special about the bedroom with the hand-sewn quilt of fabrics procured during all your travels around the world. Not even the cute covered porch with the hanging swing big enough for two to sit and watch the marvellous sunsets during chilly spring evenings had anything to do with it.

It was you. Just you. He could live in a shack at the edge of the world and you’d make it wonderful, he was certain of it. You were magical. A muggle, sure, but more magical than any spell or incantation could ever hope to be.

“Severus! Where are you, love?” you called and he could not help but smile as he put down his book and got out of the comfortable chair of worn-out leather. “The study,” he said, his voice carrying through the house despite it not being loud. You poked your head in with that bright smile and those warm eyes. “Cheeky, love. Come on, they’ll all arrive soon.” “On my way,” he said while you disappeared, your quick steps sounding out through the house while he moved a bit slower.

He stretched out his back, two pops going off before he rolled his shoulders once. He was no spring boy anymore, and time had not been kind to his body — but you seemed to love it as much today as you had all those years ago. That was all that mattered.

He drew a deep breath, not fearing what was to come as he had done for the first decade by your side. Now he knew better. He was better. Again, it was all your handiwork. So, as he walked through the narrow hallway from one end of the house to the other he found his steps to be light and the warmth of the house felt comfortable rather than stifling as it had done all those years ago when life had been dark and he had been broken.

“Can you get the ice chocolate and the fudge from the fridge?” you asked as he entered the kitchen. “The red or green bowls?” he asked as he grabbed the sweets. You looked over your shoulder at him, a little flour on your nose and the amazing smile had gone even wider. “The red ones, I think the green ones for the gingerbread and candy canes.” He nodded. “Certainly. You know best, sweetheart.” You giggled. “Again.” He harrumphed but obliged. “Sweetheart." “Onnnne more time?” you asked, your eyes warming as you’d stopped whisking whatever was in the bowl before you. “Sweetheart,” he said, not wavering in his gaze hooked to yours. “I love you.” You smiled softly all of a sudden and his heart stuttered.

He sat the sweets down, walking up to you. He grabbed at your waist and pulled you close before whispering into your ear. “I love you beyond all things.” “Sev.” “Mmh, my sweetheart…” he murmured before kissing your cheek that was all warm against his lips. “You’re a wonder, each year—” The doorbell rang and interrupted him. “They’re here!” you called out and he chuckled as you scrambled out of the apron, revealing how perfectly dressed you were in greens and silver. He grabbed your wrist before you bolted. “Flour,” he said before brushing it off your nose.

You leaned up and kissed him quickly with all the love in the world shining in your eyes. Then you nearly ran to the door while he walked slowly out of the kitchen just as jolly voices rang through the house in a cacophony of wishes for Happy Holidays and Merry Christmases. It made him smile hearing his in-laws and friends be so happy to enter his home for a Christmas party. Never had he imagined he’d ever have anything the likes of his current life. But, with you, he had all the things he’d thought impossible — despite the differences and difficulties the two of you had gone through at first it had all been worth it.

He chuckled to himself as he entered the hallway. You were in full swing with gathering everyone's coats, hats, scarves, and gloves. You were more of a clothing pile on legs at that moment than a human. He drew out his wand and flicked it, lifting the burden from you and hanging it all up. “Oh, thank you, love,” you said with a chuckle as he nodded. “Now, can we all gather in the living room for some toddy and sweets that would be great,” you said loudly while the general noise of twelve people in the tiny hallway made it quite hard to hear.

Everyone greeted him warmly, happily, before moving through the house and into the soon-to-be packed living room while you brought up the rear end. “This will be wonderful, love,” you said, giving him a quick hug and kiss. “You make everything wonderful,” he said before releasing you. You blew a raspberry. “Sev, love, you make me who I am,” you said — something you had told him several times but it would probably be the one thing he would never fully understand.

“Then I shall keep doing whatever it is I am doing, sweetheart,” he murmured before stealing another quick kiss before the both of you moved to the living room and all the happy guests who wished to spend Christmas Eve with the two of you every year. I am blessed, he thought and you stopped just beyond the threshold — forcing him to do the same. “You deserve this, Sev.” He glanced down at you. “What?” “You think you’re blessed, but you’ve done all the work to get here. You deserve this, so, smile and enjoy it with me?”

That you knew him so well only added to the warmth. He leaned forward, kissing your temple gently. “Every day, sweetheart. Every. single. day, he murmured with that low tone you seemed to adore so much. And, indeed, your eyes warmed further and there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be than right there in the chaos of a loud Christmas party with you by his side...

The end of Rickmas 2024... Thank you for this year, darlings!

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: HE DESERVES ALL THE HAPPINESS! 😭👏🎄✨❤

Merry Christmas darlings! I hope you've had a wonderful time this December and that you're all warm on the inside with this last fic of Rickmas 2024 ❤❤❤

I can barely wrap my head around having been able to post every day for Rickmas this year without missing a single day, and it's ended up at a total 69k word count in the end - holy moly 👀😅

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @dontwanttobeanamercanidiot @sunnylikesfrogs @dianilaws @snapesno1thighrider @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @leah1243 @cherihan @poetry-and-tea @evans23 @mamawolfsmith87 @snapesrn @severussimp @slyckman @liv2post @clawsthecactus @goldenglowwoman @morphineisouthoney @meteoritewolf69 @bionic-otp @elizabeth-baelish @romanceandsarcasm @severuslovebot @glowstar826 @rickmandowneyjr @yellowbadgermole @snapesangel @a-queen-and-her-throne @impulse-anchor @commodoreseverus @writewithmarites @alisongurl13 @yan-senna @writewithmarites @reinekefoxart @nixislight @lokisbjchnl  @lght-n-drk @ladykardasi @lyrixsnape @sunset90 @meliasnape @B3lls @canihelpyou201 @ankhmutes @lessdepressy @sanji-simp @snapesrn @thatlittlefangirl @ankhmutes @lessdepressy @snapesrn @theheartwants-what-itwants @slyckman @daddythanatos @sanji-simp

Want to be tagged? You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you!

[thenovelartist]

Battle Scars and Medicine Jars - Honkai: Star Rail fanfiction

Amphoreus, but DanStelle Series #3 - <<Previous - Next>>

Dan Heng did not want to separate from Stelle. They had faked a marriage for this purpose.

And yet, there was no choice. Stelle’s new-found powers were useful in one sector while Dan Heng knew he was needed elsewhere.

“Phainon, let me come with you.” Words Dan Heng hadn’t thought he’d say, yet they still came tumbling out of his mouth.

Hesitantly, Phainon glanced at Stelle then back to Dan Heng. “Are you certain?”

No, he wasn’t. However, from a purely logical standpoint, it was best for him to go where he was needed rather than where he wanted. “I’d rather be at the front lines helping to ease the burden. That’s where you need me.”

“Then I have no reason to refuse. I thank you.”

Dan Heng felt a hand slide into his, calling his attention to Stelle at his side. With a tilt of her head, she beckoned him away from the group.

He followed her a few paces away, just out of earshot as long as they spoke quietly. “Are you sure?” Stelle asked.

“I don’t like it,” Dan Heng confessed. “But this is for the best. Phainon and Mydei need all the help they can get so they can deal the final blow once you return. Only you can travel back to the past, and you need a navigator, which I am not.”

Though she pursed her lips, she eventually sighed in understanding. “Okay. Be safe. You’re going to need it more than me.”

“Have faith in me.”

“I do.” Then, to his surprise, she grabbed his cheeks. “I know it’s public, but grant me this.”

Then she yanked him forward and kissed him.

He didn’t object. Wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her in close, he returned the kiss with a fire but pulled away quickly. As much as Dan Heng wanted to, he knew he couldn’t linger. That brief kiss would have to be enough to last him through the battle.

Stelle’s hands fell from his jaw to his shoulders, giving them a reassuring pat. “Be safe,” she reiterated, her cheeks holding a nice touch of pink that contrasted nicely with the determined glint in her golden eyes. “Come back in one piece.”

“You, too.”

With that, they parted, marching back toward their party.

“Let’s go, Castorice,” Stelle said, her voice firm. “The men need us to hurry.”

She gave a decisive nod of agreement. “Yes.”

“Tribbie,” Phainon said, turning toward the smallest member of their group. “Can we trouble you once again?”

“Of course,” Tribbie assured. “Just leave the Century Gate to us.”

Dan Heng watched as a golden circle appeared in the air: a gateway that defied space-time. Grasping his spear tightly, he followed Phainon through it, landing in the desolate former palace. The sunshine had disappeared, an oppressing gloom lingering instead.

Phainon may have been taller with longer legs, but Dan Heng matched his pace with ease. He wasn’t going to hold this man back.

“I gotta say,” Phainon said. “I’m a bit jealous.”

The audible smirk in this insufferably cheery man’s tone set Dan Heng on edge. He didn’t particularly want to respond, but ignoring him would also be rude. Instead, he tried his best not to glare at the man by his side. “Dare I ask why?”

“Having a lady like that bid you good luck before a war?” Phainon whistled. “You’re one lucky guy.”

“I am.” So don’t push yours.

“Where do you even find a girl like that?”

“Good question.”

“How do you not know? Weren’t you the one to find her?”

“It’s more… she found me.”

“Haha! The titans were really smiling down on you then.”

“I suppose.”

“You can hang back to be our support. You’re guests here, after all. Mydei and I will do our best to make sure you can get back to her in one piece.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Dan Heng dismissed. “It’s more important you two are in good enough condition to deal the final blow when the girls return. That’s why I’m here.”

Phainon scoffed. “Now you sound like Mydei. Have you two secretly been training together or something?”

“He reminds me of someone I once knew.” Immortality, foul temper, and all.

Come to think of it, good-natured white-haired warrior also rang a bell…

“As do you,” he tacked on.

“Well, I hope that’s a compliment.”

“Show me you’re worthy of that kind of respect.”

Phainon laughed, but there was a competitive edge to it, his unserious undertone now long gone. “Now that’s a challenge worth accepting.”

~~~

The war had been hard and long, and thankfully, it had been won.

But not without a price.

Stelle felt the sting of her wounds with each step she took back to Okhema. Her muscles cried out with every movement. She couldn’t imagine what Dan Heng was feeling like. When the past and present had merged, overlapping in a strange haze, she’d immediately noticed just how ragged he, Phainon, and Mydei were. Watching Dan Heng get thrown not once but twice in the span of those few seconds had further worried her.

Worse yet, that was not the last time Nikador decided to yeet him—er… rather, any of them across the freaking room. What she wouldn’t have given for some wings.

Only two of their party of seven were free of injury, but they didn’t count seeing as Tribbie nor Mem had participated in the battle. Currently, Mem was nowhere to be found. Where the creature had gone, Stelle hadn’t the foggiest, nor could she bring herself to care at the moment. As for the only other one who didn’t look like death warmed over, Tribbie lead the five ragged warriors back to Okhema. Everyone sans Tribbie was the same shades of red, black, and blue as they marched back at a snail’s pace. None of them talked much, not even Phainon.

When he did speak, it wasn’t as his usual cheerful self. “I’ll go see Aglaea. The rest of you can go get some rest. Especially you, Mydei.”

The usually gruff man didn’t have half of his usual bite when he responded, “It’s the least you can do.”

“We’ll go find a healer and send them to see everyone,” Tribbie spoke up.

Mydei waved her off. “I’m fine on my own.”

Tribbie didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure, De?”

He gave her a firm nod.

Though reluctant, Tribbie didn’t press further. “Snowy?”

With a wave of his hand, Phainon also declined. “Though, I think Aglaea will insist I see one after our discussion.” He then pointed at Stelle and Dan Heng. “Those two need the healer first.”

“Just medical equipment is fine,” Dan Heng spoke up, his voice rough with exhaustion. “We’re very used to patching ourselves up.”

“A little too used to it,” Stelle reluctantly agreed. “But I don’t like doctors hovering if I can help it.”

Unconvinced, Tribbie’s gaze shot down to Stelle’s leg. “Are you sure? That’s a bad leg wound. Dan Heng is bleeding, too.”

Stelle could feel the burn of the wounds Tribbie was looking at. When she’d went to block some of Nikador’s swings, one of the titan’s weapons broke, and the metal had shot down her thigh, slicing the skin open. It wasn’t pretty, but it had at least stopped bleeding. All the blood that had run down her leg made it appear far worse than it actually was. “It’s fine. I just need to wash it and wrap it.”

“It looks like it needs stitches,” Tribbie fussed.

Stelle’s smile turned more to a grimace. “I’m… used to those, too.”

Tribbie whimpered, hesitant to accept. Even Phainon looked between Dan Heng and Stelle, clearly wanting to say something but thinking the better of it.

Mydei, on the other hand… “Leave them be, Tribbie. At least they kept it professional on the battlefield. Last thing we needed was some newlywed couple growing frantic over the other’s injuries.”

“Mydei,” Phainon hissed.

“What?”

Dan Heng sighed. “We’ve been on many battlefields together. After watching her get stabbed, little wounds like these are nothing.”

“With this thing.” Stelle raised her flaming lance. “Zero out of ten recommend.”

“Watching you fall was horrifying.”

“But I lived.”

Mydei snorted, his lips curling up in a smirk equal parts amused and approving. “True warriors.”

In stark contrast, Phainon stared at Stelle’s lance in wide-eyed horror. “I might have lost my cool had I watched that,” he admitted, glancing toward Dan Heng.

“We’d only just met at that time,” Dan Heng responded. “Which was for the better as I had no feelings to blur my judgement further.”

“Wow,” Stelle deadpanned. “I die before you twice, and you don’t bat an eye.”

“It was deserving of one eye bat.”

“Each time?” she prodded, hopeful.

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

A snort escaped her, the weight on her chest lightening at the banter. “Gee, thanks.”

Beside her, Dan Heng smiled, causing some of the weariness to disappear. “The first time earned my respect.”

“Huh. Well, good to know that works because I swear you don’t respect me enough.”

“With the trouble you get into, I have to wonder if you respect yourself enough.”

“Ouch.”

Beside them, Castorice giggled. “You two are very close,” she said, her eyes soft with an emotion Stelle couldn’t quite pinpoint. “It is… very sweet.”

“You’re lucky to have each other,” Phainon agreed. “I know I said I was a little jealous before, but I might be a bit more so now.”

Mydei scoffed. “On the battlefield, you get close to people who fight alongside you. Those are the strongest relationships you can have.”

Though his words were gruff, Stelle couldn’t agree more. Not just Dan Heng, but she knew March, Himeko, and Welt would always have her back in a fight. The only difference between all of them was that when it came to Dan Heng, his presence at her side gave her an extra boost of confidence.

“Yes, but…” Tribbie spoke up, her gaze tender, “there is something special about certain people. Those you have an unexplainable bond with. Those you cannot stand to be parted from.”

A true statement. Stelle couldn’t resist taking a half-step closer to Dan Heng, causing their shoulders to bump together.

He gave a gentle elbow to her side, returning the sentiment.

Mydei split off from the group first, then Phainon, followed by Castorice. Tribbie was the last to linger. “Are you certain we can’t convince you to see a doctor?” she asked one last time.

Stelle shook her head. “Bandages are just fine.”

Though Tribbie didn’t look happy, they did acquiesce with a nod. “Alright then. I’ll return with everything you may need. Please, go rest and recover.”

“That’s what we plan on doing. A nice bath sounds amazing right about now.”

Dan Heng nodded his agreement.

With a wave, Tribbie flew off, leaving Dan Heng and Stelle to finish the trek back to their room.

For some reason, with the rest of the crew gone, the short walk to their private room felt twice as long. The moment Stelle shut the door behind her, she felt like she was going to collapse.

Dan Heng did, dropping Cloud Piercer on the floor while he dropped onto the nearest chaise lounge.

“Are you okay?” Stelle asked, leaning against the door to support herself.

Patting the seat next to him, he beckoned her closer. An invitation she gladly took. The moment her knees buckled and her backside hit the chair, she let out the long moan. Oh, being off her feet was bliss.

“I know we’ve been in hard battles before,” Dan Heng started, his elbows on his knees as he hung his head. “But that was on the rough end.”

“Because that thing was fast, nimble, and threw stuff at us. Heck, it threw us. It was like it had no blind spots.”

“And it was long.”

Guilt weighed on Stelle’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry. We tried to hurry.” If only she and Castorice had been faster. If they’d figured out those puzzles quicker. If they hadn’t had to battle so many monsters. But on the other hand, Stelle remembered the toll it took on Castorice to use her powers in order to move forward. It wouldn’t be fair to put even a smidgen of blame on her. She’d grit through it impressively well.

“I know you did.” Dan Heng leaned sideways, his head resting on her shoulder. “You came just in time.”

Stelle leaned her head against his, taking a moment to collect herself.

“You take the first bath,” Dan Heng said. “You need to clean up your wound.”

“No way. You deserve first bath. Besides, I’m worried you’re going to fall asleep if I bathe first.”

He hummed, but didn’t fight her on it. Stelle would take that silence as acceptance.

She forced herself to stand, her knees shaking as she did. “You change first. There are bathing clothes in… I think it’s that drawer.”

“The one under it,” Dan Heng flatly spoke.

Her feet throbbing, she walked over to the indicated drawer. Pulling it open, she saw Dan Heng was right. “I think this is the guy’s outfit?” She pulled out a few pieces, trying to figure out how they would drape. “Yeah. It’s this one.”

She handed it over to Dan Heng, who still hadn’t moved from his spot on the chaise lounge. “I’ll take your jacket,” she offered. “See if I can rub out some of the blood.”

Still seated, Dan Heng first took off his leather bracer, tossing it off to the side. With a sharp inhale, Dan Heng stood to his feet. Stelle wouldn’t mock him for the dramatics; it was a task to get on your feet again after finally getting off them.

Unable to resist, Stelle slid her hands onto his shoulders under his jacket. Not only did he not pull away, but he let his grip on the jacket go, allowing her to strip the jacket off him. Though tempting to feel up his muscles, she didn’t trail her hands down his arms. The red staining his jacket sleeves proved he was injured, and his short sleeve shirt afforded her a clear view of all the cuts and bruises that those toned arms of his bore.

“Get dressed,” she said, turning her back to him. “I won’t look.”

He muttered a tired ‘thanks’ behind her as she headed toward the bath. Though her legs burned, she knelt next to the bath, dipping the worst of the bloodstains into the water and rubbing the fabric together. The work doubled as a distraction from the fact Dan Heng was changing behind her. Better for her to focus on the splish-splash of rubbing the stains out in the water rather than the rustle of clothes.

She swallowed. At least, she’d pretend that her thoughts weren’t occupied with the fact the man she loved was undressing behind her. The warmth in her cheeks proved her efforts were in vain.

“I’m decent,” Dan Heng spoke, causing her to jump as he shattered her not-so-decent thoughts.

She took a deep breath, pretending she was still focused on the fading bloodstains in Dan Heng’s jacket. Warning herself to mentally behave, she stood, turning to see—

Aeons, Nikador had kicked the shit out of him.

Forget appreciating his fine form. All she could focus on were his injuries. Beyond all the cuts that had finally stopped bleeding, Dan Heng was covered in angry red patches that were already turning black and blue. The fact he only had a towel wrapped around his waist revealed the extent of the beating he’d taken on his back and chest. There was one especially blistered bruise on his gut that Stelle would assume was from when she’d first returned to the present, only to watch Nikador slap him across the room.

“I didn’t think my vendetta against that titan could grow,” she muttered.

Dan Heng chose to ignore her words, his eyes locking on his jacket in her hands. “It’s inconvenient that we couldn’t salvage any clothes from the rail car,” he muttered. “Even the things we could grab reek of smoke.”

“When Tribbie comes, I’ll ask if she could grab us a change of clothes. And if not, I’ll go get some.”

“Not like that, you aren’t.” Dan Heng walked past her into the bath. “Come.”

… She, a weak woman, did not have it in her to ignore that order. Instead, she threw the jacket over the corner of the room’s divider and trailed like an obedient puppy dog.

Dan Heng slowly lowered himself into the bath, grunting as he collapsed on a seat. His head tipped back as he inhaled, collecting himself.

Stelle glanced over to the bath rack on the other side of the room. There were pillows there for that purpose. She shuffled over to the rack to snatch one.

“Here.” Ignoring the sting of pain, she squatted beside him, intending to situate the pillow under his head.

Instead, his eyes flit open. “We should wash your wound.”

“Really? Don’t you want to enjoy the bathwater before I get it all bloody?”

“I won’t be able to enjoy it knowing you’re hurt.”

Warmth flooded her from her chest to her toes. Before she could take off her shoe, Dan Heng had already taken hold of her ankle, slowly slipping off her shoe and sock then setting both to the side.

Her heart was already dancing, but it worsened as his fingers trailed up her calf, curling under her knee as he guided her leg towards him.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he said.

His touch burned, but not in the way he needed to know. “It’s fine.”

He proceeded to rub his hand over her skin, carefully working around her wound as he washed the dried blood off her leg. Though her wound did sting, Dan Heng’s touch was tender. She couldn’t help but find it a bit sensual, particularly as his fingers rose higher up her thigh to just under her garter. This was going to fuel fantasies of this type of touch without the wounds.

Even once he was finished, Dan Heng didn’t let go of her, his gaze lingering on her wound.

“Sorry,” he said. “That was my fault.”

“How?” she asked, brow furrowing as she recalled that moment. “I was blocking you from that hit. How could you have known that the spear would splinter?”

“I should have been watching more carefully.”

“Says the man who was one of three battling a titan for the better part of two hours.”

“You can’t let your guard down even for a moment.”

She rolled her eyes. Cradling his jaw, she tilted it upward, forcing his gaze to meet hers. “You’re allowed to be tired, you know.”

He sighed, leaning into her touch. “Not when your life and safety are on the line.”

“I thought you said you were used to me being a shield by now.”

His eyes flickered with emotion. Pain, she belatedly realized. “I lied.”

Heat flooded her body, blooming first in her chest, then creeping up her neck to her cheeks.

His grip on her leg tightened just slightly, and Stelle found herself drifting closer.

Until a knock on the door startled them apart.

“Uh… I’ll bet that’s Tribbie.” Regretfully, Stelle removed herself from Dan Heng’s grasp. She stood, only to realize she only wore one shoe. Awkwardly tip-toing in one heel, she shuffled to the door. She cracked the door open, standing in the way to block the view of Dan Heng behind her. “Yes?”

Instead of Tribbie, it was Trinnon who stood there, a wooden box in hand. “We hurried as fast as we could to collect this for you.” And then she opened the box, revealing several rounds of bandages, a few jars, and… that looked like a sewing kit.

“The pink vial is oil to be used on bruises,” Trinnon started, “not open cuts. Use the paste in the blue jar for that. The green jar holds pain-relieving powder. There’s a small spoon inside. One scoop in a cup of water will help with the pain and soreness. I think hot water tastes the best. The yellow jar is bath salts, to help ease muscle fatigue. It’s not exactly medical, but I thought it would be nice.”

Yellow jar, then green. Stelle needed to get both those to Dan Heng as soon as she could. And herself. A painkiller didn’t sound so bad right now.  “Thank you so much,” she said, reaching for the box. “We appreciate it.”

“Are you certain you don’t need an actual doctor?” Trinnon asked. “We really would be happy to send for one. That wound looks worse than Tribbie described.”

Stelle shook her head. “This is more than enough. But…” She glanced behind her. “Um, I hate to ask but—”

“Please do,” Trinnon said, her usually timid voice surprisingly firm.

“Dan Heng and I don’t have a spare change of clothes other than these. Would you mind getting us a change of outfits? These are…” Stelle looked at her own jacket, her eyes locking on a bloody hole in the sleeve. “Worse for wear.”

“We’d be happy to get replacements for you,” Trinnon said. “And get yours repaired as well. It’s the least we can do to thank you for all your help. We will return as quickly as possible.”

“Thanks, Trinnon.”

“It’s not a problem, Little Gray.”

As Trinnon flew off, Stelle shut the door behind her. She set the box down on the food cabinet, pulling the yellow jar from the container.

“Is that medicine?” Dan Heng asked.

“Bath salts.” Stelle looked inside, seeing a scoop buried in the faintly pink salt smattered with green flecks. She dug it out, making sure the scoop was full before dumping it in the bath. “To help with muscle fatigue.”

Dan Heng gave a nod, slowly stirring the water in the bath around where Stelle poured it.

“And when you get out, I’ll help patch you up,” she continued, now reaching for the green jar. She looked inside, noting the little scoop. She took the kettle from one of the cabinets, filling it up with just enough water for them before placing it on hot rocks.

“Tea?” Dan Heng inquired.

“A pain-killer, apparently. Trinnon said it tasted best hot. I’m kinda surprised they don’t have pills, though.”

“Maybe that is rationed?” Dan Heng wondered. “They have a lot of people to care for in a small area.”

“I guess you’re not wrong.” The water was going to take a while. Stelle grabbed her shoe from the side of the bath and walked back over to the lounge chair in the room. Tossing the shoe in her hand aside, she sat down, reaching for her other shoe. “Take your time. You earned the right to a long bath.”

“Join me.”

She froze midway taking off her other shoe. There was no way in the universe she heard him right. “Pardon?”

His cheeks looked pink, and for a second, he couldn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he pat the space on the bath’s edge beside him. “I know you,” he eventually said. “And you’re going to insist helping me patch myself up. The problem is… if I fall asleep by the time you get out of the bath, I know you won’t wake me to help you with your bandages.”

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, he was spot on. Or maybe that was very fortunate for her. “Well… you don’t need to tell me twice.”

“Get changed,” Dan Heng said, already turning away from her. “I won’t look.”

“Okay.”

He leaned back on the pillow she’d given him, settling in with a sigh. Stelle knew his eyes were closed tight and he wasn’t going to move until she said he could, yet her gut still fluttered a little as she slipped from her jacket. A part of her hidden deep in the dark recesses of her mind, a part that was escaping a little too frequently, kinda wanted him to sneak a peek. But this was Dan Heng. He’d be the perfect gentleman. Which, arguably, was more attractive.

There were a set of bathing clothes for her that she’d yet to wear. It took her a second to figure out how to put them on. It was like a two-piece swimsuit, with a tube for the top and a towel-skirt-thingy for the bottom. That said, it didn’t cover much, meaning her spiderweb of bruises were on full display, too.

“I’m dressed,” she told Dan Heng, releasing him from his obligation. Before joining him in the bath, she walked over to the bath station, picking out a nice smelling soap and what she guessed were some hair products. Finally, she snatched two washcloths before heading to the bath.

Dan Heng’s eyes flit open as she stepped into the bath. The water was lukewarm and, quite frankly, not all that pleasant. After a beating like the one she had, she’d have preferred a long, hot soak. However, she also knew Dan Heng preferred cooler water so he might not find this totally pleasant, either.

Before dipping in further, she lined up the products on the edge of the bath. His own curiosity getting the better of him, Dan Heng eyed the products over, picking up each one to examine. “I think this is lotion,” he said.

“I thought it was conditioner,” Stelle said, picking up the bottle. “It looks like it.”

Dan Heng put a drop on his hand, rubbing it between his fingers. “Lotion.”

“Darn it.”

“Some places use hair oil instead of conditioner,” Dan Heng mentioned as she walked back over to the bath station.

She hummed, picking up another bottle and looking at the contents. It looked like oil, meaning this must be it. As she turned around, she caught Dan Heng staring at her. That intense scrutiny didn’t dissipate as she returned to the bath. “Something wrong?” she asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“You’re bruised badly,” he mentioned.

“So are you, ya know,” she retorted. Setting down the bottle of oil, she slipped into the bath. However, the moment the water touched her thigh wound, she flinched. It stung a bit more than expected. She supposed it really was bad. Maybe she was getting too used to seeing open cuts like this after a battle that her sense of normal was growing skewed.

The tea kettle chose that moment to squeal. She shot it a glare.

“I’ll get it.” Dan Heng stood. “You enjoy to soak, too.”

“Are you sure?”

As way of answering, Dan Heng grabbed the tea kettle and walked out of the bath.

“Thank you.” And thank you for the view.

… okay, time to rein it in. She forced herself to stare at the water bubbling from the cursed water basin to distract her.

“I’m assuming this green one is the tea,” Dan Heng asked from the food station.

“One scoop each,” Stelle answered.

Within moments, Dan Heng returned with two chalices, sliding in the bath as he handed one off to Stelle.

“Cheers?” she tentatively said, forcing an uncertain smile as she raised her glass.

With an affectionate shake of his head, he raised her glass to clink against hers.

She grinned. “Thank you for humoring me.”

“When it comes to you, I don’t have much a choice.”

“Make me sound like a demanding child, why don’t you?”

“Troublesome, for sure.

She gasped, throwing a hand over her chest in mock offense.

He chuckled, his free hand sliding behind her and fingers trailing over her shoulder. “It’s… endearing.” And then he hid his expression behind the chalice as he took a sip.

… maybe she could forgive his offense. It wasn’t that bad.

Before her emotions could get the better of her, she took a sip of her own glass. She scrunched her nose up at the strange taste.

It got a chuckle out of Dan Heng.

“Don’t tell me you like the taste,” she said. “Otherwise, you can’t laugh at me.”

“It’s edible.”

That’s a no. “It’s like bitter grass.”

“It could be worse. I’m not ungrateful for their assistance.”

With a grumble, she settled down into the bath, staring at the green water inside her chalice. “Don’t guilt me into behaving.”

“No one can control your behavior, Stelle. I pity the man who tries.”

You can, she thought. At least… I’d let you.

But she still felt a touch sassy. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the sour tea. “Demanding child and now a raging racoon. How else will you insult me today?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he simply returned, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

“Except you did, and now you have to pay a price.”

“And, pray tell, what do I owe you?”

She leaned against his shoulder, cozying up against his side. “This.”

He draped his arm over her shoulders, holding her close and nuzzling her hair. “This is acceptable.”

She couldn’t resist smiling.

For a while, they rested just like that, even after the sour grass tea was finished and gone. She didn’t want to move, even in this lukewarm bath, but she was growing worried Dan Heng was getting a little too comfortable.

“Hey,” she said, poking at his side to rouse him. “I’ll wash your back.”

He blinked, his gaze taking a second to refocus. “All right.”

His response worried her just a tad. She expected some resistance. Maybe he really was really that tired. Aeons knew she was exhausted.

Having set the pillow aside, Dan Heng slid out of the bath, sitting on the edge with his feet still submerged.

Stelle grabbed the soap and a wash cloth, dipping the both in the water before sliding out of the bath. She tried being mindful of his wounds, paying extra attention to be gentle as she cleaned them. Then she pressed her luck and started in on his shoulders, his arms, his neck.

The ring on her finger seemed to glisten as she worked. Dan Heng wore one, too. For protective reasons, they were pretending to be married here, hence they’d bought some fake rings to prove their story. But this was one of those moments where Stelle had to wonder… was this what it would be like if she and Dan Heng were actually married? The intimacy of this moment wasn’t lost on her, and part of her wanted this moment to drag on a while longer. For this not to be the last time he trusted her like this.

She couldn’t help but think of her huge tub back on the Astral Express. What would it be like for Dan Heng to join her? And then after a nice soak, they could spend some time snuggling in her bed. Surely it would be more comfortable than his futon. There would be books stacked on the side table. She’d clear out shelves for him to store his notebook collection. She could connect her computer to the archives, allowing him easy access. They could just… exist together.

This fantasy world in her mind was already too easy to picture. Worst yet was how badly she wanted it.

Coming back to reality, she dunked the washcloth in the water to rinse it before wiping off Dan Heng’s back.

“Finished.”

Silently, Dan Heng turned around, already reaching for the other washcloth. “Your turn.”

Well, she didn’t mind if he did.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

“It’s fine.”

“That bruise is bad, Stelle.”

She shrugged. “It’s nothing out of the ordinary”

There was silence.

Until pain spiked at his touch. “Ahh!”

“Not ordinary,” he firmly countered.

Grimacing, she forced herself to breathe, the pain slowly dissipating as she relaxed. “Look.” She half turned to face him. “Nikador threw all of us across the room more than once.”

His eyes softened as he looked at the bruise on her side. His hand came up to hover above it. “That one scared me.”

Yeah, that particular one scared her, too. She thought she had blocked Nikador’s strike successfully, only for another one of his gangly limbs to come up behind her and smack her across the room. She’d hit one of the statues hard, and it had hurt like a muddle fudger. She’d had to take a moment for the world to stop spinning and get some air back in her lungs before she could rejoin the fight.

“You were thrown way more times than me,” she countered, gently poking his chest. She wouldn’t dare poke his bruised stomach just to prove a point. “That one scared me.” Particularly when she had to run over to him and play shield for a moment while Dan Heng gathered himself enough to stand back up. Rubble had fallen off the wall at his collision, the resulting dust choking him and delaying his recovery time.

‘Titan of Strife,’ her rear end. ‘Titan of Human Diskus’ was more like it. Mydei and Phianon had their fair share of being a frisbee, too, but Castorice had been hit the least. Probably because whenever Nikador struck her, she clung on, and her ability dealt damage. At some point, she was trying to get hit, only for Nikador to have learned his lesson with her.

“We’ll just say… we’re both a little worse for wear.”

“A little?” Stelle asked with a bemused smirk.

“A little,” Dan Heng confirmed, the corners of his own lips twitching upwards. “Turn around.”

She did as told, pulling her hair over her shoulder.

His touch on her skin was warm, yet she shivered. Her eyes drifted closed as she enjoyed the sensation maybe a little too much. It was a good thing she was turned away from him because her cheeks and chest and neck were enflamed. Her heart was a drum at the tender way Dan Heng’s strong and sturdy hands trailed over her back, her shoulders, her arms. She wanted to lean back and just settle into his embrace, but she resisted the urge lest he never offer this again out of fear she’d push her luck.

When he finished, it was too soon for her liking. He handed her the wash cloth he’d been using, allowing her to finish washing herself. Behind her, Dan Heng grabbed his wash cloth and finished washing himself.

Dan Heng slid back into the water first, dunking down beneath the surface. When he reemerged, he ran his hands through his wet hair.

Stelle froze. Aeons, was it okay for her to admit she was a little turned on right now?

He reached for the bottle of what they determined to be shampoo, roughly scrubbing it through his hair. Probably hoping to get the plaster out of it.

Instead of sitting on the sidelines and watching like a pervert as Dan Heng washed himself, Stelle followed his lead. Walking deeper into the bath, she dunked herself completely in the water, giving her hair a quick ruffle underwater before emerging. She lightly wrung it out before taking the bottle of shampoo for herself.

As she sudded her hair, Dan Heng walked deeper into the bath, dunking down and staying there a moment. He emerged like an aeon from the water, an effortless majesty to his movements as the water rolled down his back. The glistening of the water distracted from the bruises but highlighted every muscle in his back and arms.

Stelle knew she had no right to enjoy the show as well and thoroughly as she was. But at the same point, she did not care. It was a good thing she was already sitting, or else she’d need a fainting couch to swoon on.

He shook his head, water from his hair going every which direction. When Dan Heng turned around, already heading back to her side, Stelle dove forward into the bath, submerging herself under the guise of rinsing out the shampoo from her hair when in reality, she hoped to hide the fact that she’d been staring and her cheeks were burn burn burning.

She resurfaced, her back to Dan Heng. She hoped to collect herself a moment before returning to his side.

Instead, she listened to him step out of the bath.

“Are you done?” she asked, turning around to see him walk toward the bath rack.

��Yeah,” he said, already reaching for a towel. Even as he dried himself off, he didn’t turn back to her.

“Oh… I wasn’t meaning to kick you out or anything.”

“No,” he assured, still not turning back to her. “I was finished.”

A touch of guilt still lingered in her. Or maybe that was regret. No. It was definitely disappointment. Disappointment that their time had come to an end. “Oh… kay.”

He finally turned back to her. “Take your time to finish.”

“I just have to finish my hair.”

“All right.”

She reached for the bottle of hair oil, trying to comb it through her tangled mess of hair with her fingers.

Oh. Oh no.

Grimacing, she looked down at the hair products. “Hey, Dan Heng, is there a comb over there?”

He began searching the station. “Is your hair in knots again?”

“Mats might be a more fitting word.”

After a moment of looking through the cabinets, he found what she was looking for and brought it over to her.

“Thanks.” She then held her hair up by the end, only for the rest of her hair to be hanging from that one corner. “This is going to take a while.”

“You’re supposed to brush your hair before a bath, you know.”

“I forgot.” Your tempting offer overrode any functional part of my brain.

He sighed, taking a seat behind her. After dabbing a little hair oil on to his fingers, he began picking her hair apart into more manageable sections.

She took one section from him, starting at the bottom and dabbing it with more oil to loosen up the mats.

Then a knock sounded at the door.

“I’ll get it.” With a grunt, Dan Heng stood from the ground. “You keep working on… that.”

Yeah. That was a pretty appropriate word for what she was dealing with right now. She’d just say it was her punishment for enjoying her time with Dan Heng as much as she did. “Thank you.”

~~~

The knock on the door was his saving grace. Dan Heng needed a reason to put some distance between him and Stelle. Just what on earth had been thinking, asking her to come bathe with him as he did?

You were being practical. Until things became markedly unpractical.

He opened the door, revealing Tribbie holding a pile of folded clothes. “Here. Outfits straight from Agy.”

“Thank you. We appreciate the change.”

Her gaze fell to his torso, her expression souring. “We still don’t understand why you won’t let us get you a doctor. That’s… really bad.”

It hurt, too. Everything hurt. The bed was beckoning him to spend the next several hours recovering on top of it. Though, it was going to take more than one night’s sleep to recover from this. “Beyond what you gave us, the only other thing we need is some time to recover.”

She frowned. “We guess we can’t force you. Please, get some rest. You deserve it. Snowy and De need some time to recover, too, so the coreflame ceremony will be postponed for a while. Don’t worry about pushing yourselves, okay?”

“We appreciate it.”

“Also, we can take your other clothes to get cleaned and repaired.”

He should have collected those before answering the door. He hadn’t been thinking about it. His thoughts had been occupied with a racoon’s matted coat. “Yes. Give me one moment to collect them.” For Stelle’s privacy, he shut the door.

He glanced at the pile Stelle had left on the floor. With a sigh, he set the new clothes aside. “Really, Stelle?”

“Hmm?” She looked over her shoulder, her hair in her hands.

Body aching in protest, he bent over to pick up her clothes and began folding them.

“Oh. Er… sorry?”

He sighed. “We’re going to have to fix this little habit of yours.”

She ducked her head in response. “I’ll work on it.”

He finished folding her clothes, then grabbed his jacket from the room divider. Patches were going to be necessary to repair it. He had an inkling that by the time they got off this planet, their clothes would have to be replaced entirely.

He went to the door again, their near ruined clothes in hand. “Thank you for repairing those for us.”

“It’s no problem,” Tribbie said, taking the clothes. “We’re always happy to help. We’ll have them returned to you as quickly as possible.”

“We appreciate it.”

“Feel better!” And with that, Tribbie headed off.

Dan Heng closed the doors behind him.

“And I’m done!”

Dan Heng looked to Stelle, watching as she carded her fingers though her hair. She dipped beneath the surface one last time, but when she reemerged, he became completely transfixed on the sight of her. The way her bathing clothes stuck to her skin, revealing every sensuous curve of her body. The way she wrung out her silvery hair, the water trailing over her horribly bruised skin. The way her toned form moved as she stepped out of the bath, a shining silhouette that glistened in the ever-present sunlight as she walked over to grab a towel.

Dan Heng turned away, his face flaring with heat. He told himself to be professional, to assess the extent of her injuries. Unfortunately, his adoration of the subject made it difficult to be entirely objective.

He needed a task. Spying the medicine box, he grabbed it and took it over to the bed.

“Hey, you can change first,” Stelle said, taking a second towel and wrapping it in her hair.

“Thanks.” After placing the medicine box over on the nightstand, he sorted out the clothes on the bed. There was a decorated tunic and pants as well as a dress. Seeing as the tunic would be in the way of his injuries, he just took the pants and hid behind the room divider to change.

It hardly took time to dry off and change. Having finished, he wrung out the bathing outfit into the bath before making his way toward the balcony. Their things would dry faster laid out on the railing in the sun.

“Your turn.” Dan Heng told her as he walked past.

“Okay. Don’t you dare get started without me.”

Before he could ask what she was referring to, he caught sight of her tapping the lid of the medicine box.

“I won’t,” he assured.

Stelle grabbed the dress and walked behind the partition. Dan Heng turned around and headed out to the balcony, dropping his bath clothes and his towel over the railing.

Though the room partition was between them, Dan Heng still kept his eyes on the ground as he walked toward the medicine box again. Looking inside, he noticed a little package, one with needles and thread.

Stelle was going to hate him for that, but neither of them were strangers to needles at this point. They’d each been sewn up and done the sewing. Stelle had surprised him in her ability to do so. For as chaotic and reckless as she was, her stitches were tied with Himeko’s in terms of neatness. Personally, Dan Heng preferred Welt in terms of the man’s efficiency, but Stelle never disappointed him when it came to patching him up. That was left up to March. Dan Heng was sure March, being both squeamish and jittery, was no one’s first or even second choice.

Hopefully, Stelle wouldn’t protest him being her only choice for the job. She didn’t have any other options.

Stelle came around the corner, instantly drawing his gaze. The towel was still in her hair, but she pulled off the white dress very well, in his opinion. The flowy skirt fluttered around her legs, and the bodice was a swooping v shape that dipped between her breasts.

He realized he didn’t really want her to wear that outside.

“What are these two jars?” he asked, deciding to redirect his focus.

“The pink is oil for bruises but not cuts. That’s the blue.”

He grabbed the blue jar, setting it on the bed along with a roll of bandages and the sewing kit. “We’ll start with your leg injury. It really needs to get sewn up.”

She groaned. “Really?”

“Let me look at it. It doesn’t look good, though.”

With a dramatic sigh, Stelle laid down on the bed and hiked the edge of her knee-length skirt up to her hip.

 Dan Heng felt his face warm. Stelle commonly dawned a mini-skirt with a daring slit. He’d gotten used to the sight by now, and he’d gotten used to just how affected by it he could be. There was something about her legs he found seductive, from the lines of trained muscles that demanded admiration to the cheeky garter belt that screamed for his attention. But this… her purely practical move was feeling a lot more sensual and tempting than it should.

He stared at the angry red wound running down the side of her thigh to her knee and the other minor cuts that littered her calf, hoping the sight would ground him back to reality. He took hold of the back of her knee, moving her leg to allow him a better angle. She tensed at his touch, her breath hitching.

Instantly, he paused, forcing his eyes up to hers. “Are you okay?”

She turned away, her face coloring. “Y-yeah.”

Be professional, he warned himself. He lightly prodded at the wound to examine it. It had long stopped bleeding, but between how deep and long it was, he didn’t see it healing up nicely without assistance. “That would benefit from stitches.”

“Uuuugh. Why?” she whined.

“I’ll be gentle.”

“I know you will, but still.”

Opening the sewing kit, he pulled out one of the thin needles and a length of suture thread. Stelle had rolled over on her side by now, her fists wrapped in the sheets and her eyes closed, probably giving herself a mental pep-talk.

Dan Heng made quick work of the stitches, opting for as few as possible. Much to her credit, Stelle held it together quite well, but she usually did.

“Done.”

“Thank aeons,” she muttered, her fists releasing their death grip on the sheets.

Dan Heng reached for the blue jar. Swiping out a dollop of salve, he began rubbing onto the stitches line. Stelle twitched at the pain, but soon forced herself to settle.

“Sorry,” Dan Heng finally said.

“I hate you.”

He ignored it, knowing she didn’t mean it. Carefully, he began wrapping her wound, trying to not let his fingers brush her skin half as much as they seemed to. He finished tying off the bandage on her thigh, then moved to tend to a cuts on her calf.

“Finished.”

She heaved a sigh. “Can it just be your turn now?”

“I have to tend to your back.”

Grumbling all the while, Stelle sat up and turned her back to him. The dress dipped low in the back, allowing Dan Heng to see the full extent of the mottle of black and blue that painted her shoulders, her ribs, her spine. There were even spots of red where the skin had been hit so hard it had broken open. The wound on her back, where Nikador had caught her off-guard and thrown her, looked about as bad as the one that stretched across his stomach.

He reached for the blue jar of medicine again, taking a swipe and dabbing it on the wound.

She hissed again, her spine straightening tensely as she leaned away from him.

He waited for her to relax again, allowing him to rub the paste into the wound. Just like when he was stitching her leg wound, he could feel her muscles twitch in protest. He did feel guilty, but there was nothing to be done other than finish as quickly as he could.

Once finished, he set down the blue jar and grabbed a bandage, only to realize he couldn’t wrap the wound with her in that dress.

His face warmed. “Um… Stelle… that wound needs to be wrapped.”

“And? Oh.” Realization dawned on her.

He grit his teeth. He couldn’t ask her to do this herself. They were going to have to do their best to ignore the impending situation and stay as technical about everything as possible.

Stelle unwrapped the towel from her head. “Um…” She peeked over her shoulder, cheeks red. “Turn around a minute? I’ll… cover myself with a towel.”

He did as told, but even he was growing more awkward by the moment as he listened to the rustling of the fabric behind him.

“Okay.”

Cautiously, he glanced toward her. She’d slid out of the top of her dress, it now puddled around her waist. Her entire back was exposed now, her damp hair pulled over her shoulder and her arms cuddling her damp towel to her chest. His gut tightened. Be professional about this, he told himself. It’s medical treatment, nothing more.

The problem was that it was something more. While this was far from the first time they’d patched each other up after a fight—the Shackling Prison incident particularly came to mind—things had notably shifted since their confession. The innocent air that had been between them every time before had disappeared in favor of an intimate one. This was no longer him patching up his friend, his comrade. He was patching up someone who had very quickly found a cozy home deep within his heart.

And the heart made a mess of a lot of things.

Though he tried to stay professional, it was difficult to do when he had to wrap his arms around her with each round of bandage. The action brought his nose close to her bare shoulder repeatedly. Then there was the fact his arms frequently brushed against the towel pressed against her chest, the only thing preserving what was left of her modesty at the moment.

“There.” He tied off the bandage on the side. Then, in a moment of weakness, he dared to lay a kiss on her shoulder.

She gasped.

He quickly pulled away, reaching toward the medicine box one last time for the pink vial. “You can… replace your dress.”

There was a pause before Stelle threw the towel over his head.

He felt it was well deserved.

He sat there, simply waiting for the signal that she was decent again. Next thing he knew, she was pulling the towel up off his head, having rounded the bed. “Your turn.”

“I’m not finished with you yet,” he said, lifting the pink vial between them.

“You’re beaten up, too, you know.”

“And I’ll submit to you after I finish with you.”

Maybe those were a poor choice of words, because he could see the gears turning in Stelle’s head.

“Get your head out of the gutter, Stelle.”

“My head’s not in the gutter. But you telling me to get my head out of the gutter means your head’s in the gutter.”

She was correct, despite her logic being flawed. “That’s not necessarily the case.”

She gave him a dubious look.

He strategically ignored it. “Sit.”

With a sigh, she did.

He used the little dropper in the lid of the vial to drip the oil over her skin, then did his best to be gentle as he rubbed the oil onto her bruises. When he finished, she danced away as though he’d burned her. Considering the extent of her wounds and the care he’d had to provide, he would honestly believe he had.

“Your turn.” She grabbed the blue jar and a roll of bandages, then plopped down next to him as she focused on his arms.

He flinched at the contact.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “But at least it’s not stitches.”

He shook his head. Now he knew how she felt. The paste was cool against the wounds. Too cool. To the point it burned. He’d just assume that meant it was working. However, it did not bode well for the wound on his stomach. “It’s fine.”

Her slender fingers worked tenderly as she gave him aid. Ironically, he tried not to focus on her touch, as it stung in two vastly different ways. He was thankful for the relief when she began wrapping his arms. He hung his head, the wound plastered across his abdomen calling his attention. It was already black and blue, but he hadn’t realized the skin had ruptured in spots until he’d taken off his shirt. As of now, both the bleeding and the oozing had stopped, but it was still sticky to the touch. Even sitting in the water had stung, but it needed to be washed to help it heal. It was probably going to take weeks to recover. He had to remind himself he was lucky Nikador didn’t rip him open. Mydei had a wound that looked as though Nikador had torn him in half, the bloody gash spanning across his gut and chest.

Truly, Dan Heng was impressed at Mydei’s ability to hold out in battle for as long as he did.

“Do you want to lay down?” Stelle asked, her eyes flitting toward his stomach.

Without protest, Dan Heng collapsed backwards on the bed. Now, in this position laying down, he realized his mistake. His exhaustion hit him like the Astral Express itself, and he didn’t know if he was going to be able to get up again.

“I’m sorry in advance,” Stelle said.

Dan Heng draped his bandaged arms over his head, hoping to hide his embarrassment and his pain. “It needs to be done.”

He hissed the moment Stelle made contact with his wound, the sting of the wound burning anew. He focused on breathing in and out in a steady yet shallow rhythm as Stelle finished applying the salve.

Even after she stopped, moving to a wound on his leg, he’d had to continue his breathing exercise, hoping the pain would dull quickly. Unfortunately, it took a long moment to do so. By the time he regulated his breathing again, she’d already wrapped the wound on his calf and lowered his pant leg again.

He felt the bed dip beside him, and he lowered his arms away form his face. It took a second for his vision to focus on her, bringing her worried expression into focus.

“Sorry to ask,” she said. “But I need you to sit up again.”

Even with her help, he struggled to do so, his abdomen vehemently protesting the movement. Thankfully, he made it up, but his head was spinning. It took all his mental fortitude to sit normally, not slouched over, to make it easier on Stelle to wrap the bandage. This time, his point of focus was just how close her face was to his.

As she finished, she mirrored his actions and kissed his cheek. “Turnabout is fair play,” she whispered.

He smiled, despite the exhaustion, despite the pain. Then, despite his better judgement, he cradled her face in his hands, pulling her forward, and kissed her.

With a hum, she melted, happily leaning into his gentle touch.

Just like that, everything was okay. They were safe, they had succeeded, and though they were worse for wear, they were by each other’s side. Their quick kiss before battle had sealed a promise between them, but this one was the pay-off. It served to truly calm his heart.

Three long and lingering kisses later, he pulled away, rubbing his thumbs against her cheeks.

“Dan Heng.” Stelle’s voice was quiet, soft, and dare he say, dreamy. He liked this side of her.

“Hmm?”

“I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“I do like being in one piece. But, more than that, I’m glad you’re in one piece, too.”

She smiled. “Lay on your stomach. I’ll give you a massage. You earned it.”

“I’d rather just go to sleep.”

“I still have to put the oil on you. You don’t get special privilege of torturing—I mean, assisting me with that and not have me return the favor.”

A chuckle escaped him. “I suppose I did say I would submit to Stelle’s touch.”

Her beaming grin lightened the weight on his heart. “Thank you.”

Slowly, he lowered himself onto his side of the bed, knowing that he would not be able to get up again if he laid down a second time.

The bed sank beneath her weight as she crawled around him. Her caring touch would be the death of him, her capable hands rubbing the oil into his bruises and over his sore muscles. He felt himself relaxing more and more the longer she spent tending to him.

Finally, much to his relief and dismay, she stopped.

Her weight disappeared from the bed. “I’d keep going if I wasn’t afraid you were going to going to fall asleep right here,” she said.

He grunted, forcing his eyes open. They were so heavy. He just wanted to sleep. He had no doubt he would have given up fighting consciousness if she’d continued any longer. “Thank you, Stelle.”

She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his neck: the same spot he’d kissed her.

He smiled, his eyes drifting closed again.

The he felt her crawling into bed, settling the covers around them. “I’ll stay on my side. You get all the sleep you need.”

A touch of guilt sprang up again as he recalled what he’d told her last night. While he was still hesitant at the thought of sharing a bed with another person, particularly one he adored as much as Stelle, he didn’t want her thinking he hated this arrangement. On the contrary, he worried he would grow to like it too much. He worried about getting too used to a warm body at his side. Getting too used to the thought of not being alone.

Only to have it disappear when he thrashed around with nightmares.

But tonight, he had the fleeting thought that having her by his side might be worth all the risks.

Though his aching body made the task difficult, he shuffled over to her, daring to snuggle up behind her. He felt her tense under his touch as he slid his left hand down his arm to find her hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Dan Heng?” Stelle murmured.

“Tonight,” he returned just as quietly. “Just tonight, I think I’d sleep better knowing you’re safe like this.”

He felt her sigh, her entire body relaxing. Then she wiggled herself back into his embrace as she curled their conjoined hands closer, only to press a kiss to their entwined fingers. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything.”

“Everything?”

“Everything,” she confirmed. “Always having my back in battle, patching me up. And this… especially this.”

He smiled, then kissed her shoulder yet again. “Good night, Stelle.”

“Sleep well, Dan Heng.”

~~~

Stelle woke sore and hungry. But she also woke very happy.

Because she was still in Dan Heng’s arms.

The warmth of his skin against hers was comforting. Yeah, she could definitely get used to this. Each day, the lines of their new-found relationship were blurring little by little. And it had only been three days.

She looked at their left hands, Dan Heng’s fingers interwoven with hers. She dared to turn their hands just enough for her to get a good look of his ring, the fake one worn to symbolize her. For a moment, she let herself wonder if this was what a real marriage would look like. Or would it be even better?

She didn’t really want to move, because she knew if she did, she would wake Dan Heng, who was snuggled quite contently against her shoulder. It was undeniably romantic, and she couldn’t stop her heart from skipping like a giddy March 7th in her chest. Furthermore, Dan Heng deserved all the sleep he could get.

She shifted, only for pain to shoot down her leg. She bit back a cry of pain. Ah, the adrenaline had worn off, and the pain came as a replacement. What a jerk.

Dan Heng stirred behind her, as she knew he would, his hand slowly trailing up her arm to land at her elbow. “Stelle?”

The trailing touch sent pleasurable skitters through her. What wouldn’t she give to spend the rest of her nights snuggled up beside Dan Heng like this, particularly if it meant waking up at his side. “Sorry. I didn’t want to wake you, but… losing battle, I know.”

On an exhale, he gave her shoulder one last nuzzle before rolling over on his back with a groan.

Slowly, painfully, strategically ignoring the screaming of her own body, she rolled over to face him. “Feeling okay?”

He cracked his eyes open. Even though the haze of sleep still lingered over him, she knew that was a full Dan Heng glare.

She smirked sympathetically. “Yeah, I feel like death, too.”

“There was that jar of pain medicine, right?”

“Oh yeah. Kinda forgot about that. Want me to go grab some?”

“I’ll do it.”

“I’ll bet you’re sorer than me.”

“I’m not the one with stitches.”

“Fine. Rock, paper, scissors, lizard, Herta.”

He scoffed, his expression scrunching in offence. “I still don’t understand how you manage to get away with the last two on her space station.”

“The researchers need to blow off some steam somehow. And it’s not like Herta cares about a probability game when she’s obsessed with her little simulated universe. But if she ever finds out paper disproves her, half the space station is getting fired.”

Dan Heng sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just… the normal kind.”

“You’re no fun.” Yet, she still lifted her hand.

Slowly, he lifted his.

She counted to three, him shooting rock to her scissors.

She pouted. “And here I thought the archivist would go paper.”

He lightly tapped her peace sign with his fist. “Don’t even bother boiling the water.”

“Yeah, I feel the same.”

“Mem!”

The appearance of the little pink creature surprised Stelle. Yet, she was hardly upset as she spotted the steaming kettle Mem was holding. “Hey, where’d you go? You disappeared yesterday.”

The little creature responded in a way only Stelle could understand. “I wanted to see if I could find a way to reverse time on your injuries, but I couldn’t.”

Stelle smiled, reaching up to pet the furry creature’s head. “We appreciate the thought, Mem.”

“And when I couldn’t,” Mem continued ‘mem’-ing, “I came back, but decided to give you two some privacy.”

Stelle felt her cheeks warm. “Thanks.”

“Tea?” Mem asked, giving the kettle a gentle shake.

Slowly, painfully so, Stelle sat up in bed and grabbed the kettle. “Can you get the cups and green cannister, too?”

“Yup!” Mem zipped off across the room.

Beside her, Dan Heng sat up, grunting in pain as he did.

Stelle watched as Dan Heng barely managed to sit up against the headboard, his eyes closing as he finally managed the task. “Yeah, I would have loved watching you drag your dragon butt out of bed,” she groused.

He shot her a weak glare. “I underestimated how sore I was.”

“Uh-huh.”

Mem returned with the chalices, already filled with a scoop of the grass powder.

“Whose was whose?” Stelle asked Dan Heng.

“I put mine on the right.”

With a mumble, Mem looked at the glasses, then handed the respective ones to each person.

“Thank you, Mem.” Dan Heng took his glass. Seeing as Stelle had the kettle in her hands, he took Stelle’s as well, which allowed her to fill them up.

Once filled, Mem took the kettle from Stelle and zoomed back off across the room.

Stelle took her glass from Dan Heng, then raised it with a weak smile. “Cheers.”

He heaved a sigh. “To long battles.”

“Aeons, I hate the devs upping the difficulty.”

Dan Heng pulled the glass away from his lips, shaking his head. And Stelle had to do the same. If she took a sip now, she’d choke on her laughter.

“Why are you like this?” he bemoaned.

“You knew what you were getting into with me.”

“Regrettably.”

“Yeah, and I bet you ‘regret’ the snuggles last night.”

“Not nearly as much as I should.”

Stelle felt her face warm. Now was a great time to sip the grass-water, if only to give her an excuse to look away. After the first sip, she pulled it away, glaring at the offending liquid. It was not any better the second time.

“Anyway,” Stelle said. “Looks like we found a solution to the bed problem.”

Dan Heng quirked a brow behind his glass. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, you’re not really going to go sleep on the couch now, right?”

He looked at the bed they shared.

“I mean, not now that we’ve already slept together.”

He rolled his eyes. “Phrasing, Stelle.”

“I kinda like the snuggles.”

Dan Heng sighed.

“We’re married?” She offered as a last resort.

He took another large drink before setting the glass aside. Had he really finished? Stelle dared to take another large sig of her drink just as Dan Heng leaned close to her, his gray-blue eyes meeting hers.

Her heart thumped.

“I don’t want to move too fast with you,” he confessed. “I… want to be careful.”

She frowned. “Is this… am I too much?”

“No,” he was quick to assure. “But you’re…” He lips pursed as he glanced away a for a second. “You’re too precious to mess this up.”

The way her heart thumped before? Negligible compared to the way it skipped now. “I don’t think it’s too fast. It’s… it’s you. Everything’s easy with you. Not that you’re ‘easy’ in that context!” she blabbered. “Getting your attention is really difficult, you know, and—”

“Stelle.”

“Yes?”

He grinned in a way that almost sent her swooning. “I know what you mean. I… feel the same.”

Hope sparked in her chest. “So… the bed can stay?”

He looked down at it. “With both of us injured, it’s probably beneficial to our recovery that we sleep in the bed, meaning if only for practicality’s sake…”

She grinned, amusement making her feel light and tingly. Or maybe that was the grass-water. “You can just say ‘yes’, you know.”

“I want to be clear.”

“You’re no fun.”

“You know what you’re getting with me.”

“Problem is… I kinda like it.”

There was relief in his smile, his eyes softening as he looked at her.

Ugh, her heart was going to burst. She was so freaking lucky.

On the Dan Heng front. Not the battle scars front. She’d heard Tribbie tell Dan Heng they wouldn’t need to participate in anything for a while, and Stelle truly hoped that was the case.

“Hey,” Stelle started, the fuzziness in her head preventing her from finding any reasons why she shouldn’t push her luck right about now. “Now that we have the bed thing sorted out, can I sort out something else?”

“And what would that be?”

She set her own half-finished drink aside. “Good morning kisses?”

His eyes flashed in surprise.

Before she lost her nerve, she leaned in close. Yet, she paused right before her lips met his in case he wanted to pull away.

But he didn’t. He met her half way.

She was so happy she could fly. Without Nikador’s help, thank you very much.

“Good morning, Starlight.”

There was that nickname again. One she could most definitely get used to hearing on a regular basis. It made her earlier ‘sweetheart’ nickname for him pale in comparison. She’d have to figure something else out. But for now, she’d go for something her pain-hazed, love-addled brain could easily form. “You know, Handsome, I could really get used to this.”