#but my heart stayed in fearless

[yuujispinkhair]

Imagine firefighterSukuna…..sigh….😵‍💫

I am losing my mind, Émilie 😵 Thank you for sending me this!

FIREFIGHTER!SUKUNA X READER (FEMALE) 2.5k words. 18+, fluff + smut, mentions of cigarettes. Sukuna is a bit of an asshole at first lol, but we change his ways, and now he will be a good boy only for us ;) Divider by lacedolliee + benkeibear. Minors don't interact.

Sukuna isn't the typical firefighter. He isn't like those heroic guys you see on TV or read about in sappy newspaper articles. Sukuna doesn't do this out of the goodness of his heart. He doesn't need to save random strangers out of a burning house to sleep better at night. If he's honest, he doesn't give a fuck!

But Sukuna is good at his job. He is strong, fearless, and insane enough to walk into the worst situations. He is here for the thrill of it. He loves the adrenaline rushing through his veins when he gets called to a fire. And the more dangerous it is, the more fun it brings Sukuna!

He doesn't hesitate before walking into your burning apartment complex a second time, even when everyone around him says it's too dangerous. Sukuna just gets a mad glint in his eyes, and a feral smirk lifts his lips when he says, "You think I'm scared of a little fire? One day, I'll burn in hell anyway, so fuck it!"

The Itadori twins are the only ones who enter the building a second time. Sukuna knows his brother does it because he has a little savior complex, always willing to sacrifice his own life to save someone else. Sukuna, on the other hand, does it for the challenge, for the thrill. He always wants to win, no matter who the opponent is, a guy he fistfights in a bar or a fucking fire. Nothing will defeat Sukuna!

Sukuna kicks down the door of your apartment when you thought all hope was lost. He carries you out of the burning house, smirking victoriously under his helmet when he feels your hands cling to his muscular biceps desperately.

He brings you to one of the ambulance cars, setting you down on a stretcher before he pulls off his helmet and his heavy jacket, revealing the white tanktop beneath it and a good portion of his broad chest and muscular, tattooed arms, sweaty and smeared with grime and ashes, and yes he finds the way you stare at him very amusing.

Your wide-eyed gaze slowly trails over his body until you finally look up at Sukuna's tattooed face with tearstains on your cheeks, your lips trembling, and your voice raspy from all the smoke when you ask him dazedly for his name.

And Sukuna flashes you a playful smirk while running a large hand through his pink hair as he fixes you with a smoldering gaze out of his eyes, which glow red right now from the flames of your burning apartment complex reflected in them.

He tells you his name in a low, seductive drawl and watches your face twist with emotions. A shaky sob escapes your lips, and fresh tears slip out of your eyes,

"Thank you so much, Sukuna! You saved my life! You are my hero!"

Sukuna laughs gruffly, shaking his head and smirking at you,

"Trust me, sweetheart, I am not a hero."

He really isn't. He isn't doing this because he is a good guy who wants to save people. He is only here because his brother dragged him along to his work after Sukuna got fired from another job, unable to stay employed because he simply doesn't do well with authority.

And then he went into a burning building for the first time and realized that fighting against the flames and the smoke and tearing down walls and kicking in doors, somehow was where he felt at home. So Sukuna stayed.

Well, and the nice side effect of this job is all the girls he gets to fuck because of it.

Sukuna watches you with a lazy, amused expression on his face, already knowing what will happen. You gulp hard, reaching out to touch his arm tentatively, eyes wide, full of admiration and a desperate plea swimming in them,

"Please, I want to thank you. I want to pay you back for saving my life. What can I do?"

Oh, Sukuna knows exactly how you can pay him back, but he just grins and shrugs his broad shoulders,

"It's no big deal. But you can check into my cousin's motel if you need a place to stay until you find a new apartment."

It's extremely convenient to have a cousin who owns a motel, and of course, you agree, thinking that way, you can at least do Sukuna a favor by giving money to his family.

"Come on, I can drive you, princess."

Sukuna wraps a strong arm around your shoulders, steadying you, taking care of you, making you all kinds of crazy for him. The big, strong, sexy firefighter who saved your life. You lean gratefully against his strong body, letting him lead you to his car, help you inside, and even buckle your seatbelt for you.

Sukuna can already see the little hearts dancing in your eyes. It makes him grin to himself as he starts the car.

It's a rather long drive from here, and you get stuck in traffic for a long time. And Sukuna learns that, as shy as you are, you seem to be uncomfortable with silence, and so you start to fill it with babbling about all kinds of things. Your apartment, your job, your family, how you like your coffee.

It's amusing how awkward you are, but somehow Sukuna's smirk softens into a smile one hour in, and he catches himself replying with a playful tone, asking more questions about you and your rather boring life, which, to his surprise, is kind of cute to him.

When he finally pulls up in front of the motel, Sukuna already knows what will happen. He accompanies you to your door, standing before you, tall and strong and with a sexy smirk, and you get on your tiptoes to kiss his tattooed cheek, letting your soft lips linger almost longingly on his skin as you whisper,

"Thank you again, Sukuna. I will never forget what you did for me."

And before you can pull away, Sukuna places a large hand on the small of your back, keeping you right there in front of him, so close that your body brushes lightly against his, and his other hand cups your chin and turns your face so he can claim your mouth in a playful kiss, his tongue licking teasingly over your lips, pushing inside to flick slowly against yours, making you gasp softly and twist your hands in the front of Sukuna's tanktop, pulling him closer.

Yeah, that's it, princess, Sukuna thinks to himself. If you want to thank him, this is exactly how he wants it. Thank him with your tongue in his mouth and your hands on his body.

Sukuna knows he is an asshole, but he doesn't care. All his coworkers are far too decent guys. They say it's wrong to sleep with the ones they saved. They say it would feel like taking advantage of them.

Sukuna can only laugh about that. The way he sees it, there is nothing wrong with getting rewarded with sex. And after all, it's not like you don't get something out of this, too. Sukuna will show you the night of your life. He will dick you down so good you will thank him again afterward.

He scoops you up into his strong arms for the second time today and carries you into the motel.

It's you who touches him first and yanks on his tank top. So needy for him and his dick, so desperate to get your hands on his naked skin. So why should Sukuna feel guilty?

He mounts you from behind, fucking you hard and fast in doggy with a hand around your throat before he pushes your face into the pillow and continues to take you in prone bone, pressing you down onto the bed, covering you completely with his heavy body, making you sob his name anytime he pushes his fat cock into you.

He was right, you really thank him as he feels your pussy becoming tighter and tighter around him right before he fucks you over the edge.

For the second round, you turn around and look up at Sukuna, and maybe that was a mistake because your eyes are so full of those damn little hearts, and your face is alight with total bliss and adoration and, yeah, love. Your arms are wrapped so tightly around Sukuna's body, your fingers tangled in his pink hair, caressing him, pulling him down, begging him with breathless whimpers,

"Closer... please come closer... please, I need you, Sukuna."

He kisses you just to shut you up and make you stop looking at him like that as if he is your world. But he still hears the way you moan his name, not Sukuna, but Kuna, when you squeeze around him, and it makes him cum harder than he has in years.

Sukuna slumps down on top of you, not thinking for a moment in his post-orgasm high, basking in the way you feel under him, so soft and warm, and your silky heat still pulsing so deliciously around his cock. He turns his head to lightly bite your neck as if he needs to leave his mark on you, when usually he never leaves anything behind.

Sukuna frowns, rolling off you and lying on his back next to you, staring up at the ceiling with a slightly uneasy feeling. Why is he acting like this? Maybe he inhaled too much smoke tonight. Maybe the heat was too much.

No matter what it is, Sukuna finds himself staying in your bed much longer than he usually does. Every other time he finds his way into someone's bed, he acts as if his alarm went off and he has to leave for another fire, finding the perfect excuse to leave while his dick is still wet.

But tonight, he doesn't bolt right after cumming. Maybe he really just needs some rest. And it's just very comfortable how your smaller body seems to fit perfectly into his side as you roll over and snuggle against him, like some housecat looking for cuddles.

Sukuna knows he should get up, but he is too comfy. He will just rest for a moment longer, just close his eyes for a few seconds, and enjoy the way it feels to get cuddled like this.

When he opens his eyes again, the lights are off, and only the soft glow of the streetlamps drifting in through the window casts some dim light into the small motel room.

"Oh fuck..."

Sukuna curses under his breath, the instinct to run kicking in, but he gets stopped by a pair of arms wrapped around him, and everything comes flooding back. The drive here, the sex, the way you looked at him, how nice it felt to let you cuddle him.

Sukuna freezes up. He knows he should leave. Knows he should untangle himself from you and sneak out while you are still fast asleep. Run away like he always does, never to see you again.

But somehow, the way you cling to him makes him hesitate. He must have turned onto his side in his sleep, and now you are behind him, playing the big spoon, which is ridiculous considering your size difference, but here you are, hugging Sukuna tightly from behind. Clinging to him, pressing your warm, naked body against him.

Your face is buried in Sukuna's broad back, breathing softly against his tattooed skin. And somehow, Sukuna doesn't know how to breathe anymore because the realization washes over him that he likes to get held like that.

But there is still a little fight in him left, and Sukuna growls softly, gritting his teeth and carefully plucking your small hands off his abs. He doesn't get far, though. He has barely moved when your arms wrap around him again. Of course, Sukuna could easily slip out of your grasp, but what really makes him stop is your soft whisper,

"Stay. Please... don't leave me alone. Not tonight."

You sound so small and scared, and Sukuna has no idea why his heart clenches at the sound of that. But what he knows is that he stops moving and mumbles something about just stretching his legs a bit because he is about to get a leg cramp.

And his large hand cups yours to give it a reassuring squeeze, something he only ever used to do when his brother and he were still kids, and Yuuji cried because of something. It makes him feel awkward and weird and so fucking weak.

But you let out a relieved sigh and snuggle against Sukuna's broad back again, hugging him and whispering, "Thank you."

Sukuna's mind is whirling because why the hell does it feel so fucking nice to be held by you like this? It's concerning.

But he doesn't try to run, just huffs softly and interlaces his fingers with yours where your hand is resting against his naked chest.

"Get back to sleep, princess. I won't leave."

And he means it. For the first time in his life, Sukuna stays.

He wakes up in the morning to the warmth of your body wrapped around his and the feeling of your lips trailing sweet little kisses over his broad shoulders, and your soft fingers caressing his tattooed biceps tenderly. You say his name all sleepy and sweet-sounding, and Sukuna asks himself if the fire last night fried his brain because everything about you makes him feel such weird things right now.

Maybe it's your sweet and slightly shy smile. Maybe it's the way you babble so cutely when you are nervous. Maybe it's how innocent you seem to be, how genuine with the affection you give him.

Sukuna fucks you again, but slower this time, with the sunlight pouring in through the window, and somehow he can't look away from your face. Somehow, he gets lost in your eyes when you whisper his name and dig your nails into his broad back. You cum so sweetly on his cock, so wet and hot, sucking him in even deeper, crying out his name and calling him your hero, and Sukuna's vision goes black for a moment when he cums with such a loud and feral moan, that he never heard coming out of his mouth ever before.

He stays an incredibly long time in your bed. Cuddling with you, kissing you, almost purring like a cat when you run your fingers through his pink hair while he rests his head on your tits.

When a real alarm tells Sukuna it's time to leave and do his job, he groans and only reluctantly gets up. His eyes never leave you while he gets dressed, watching as you wrap the blanket around you and smile dreamily at him.

And Sukuna catches himself stepping closer to the bed again, leaning down to grab your neck and capture your lips in another kiss, which is too long, too tender.

You ask him for his phone number, and Sukuna gives it to you, which is also something he usually never does.

He walks out of the motel with a casual wave of his hand, but the strange feeling in his chest isn't casual at all. He tries to ignore it, gets in his car, lights a cigarette, and takes a deep drag as he turns up the music and drives off. But even as he's driving away from you, he can't suppress the feeling that a part of him stays with you right there in the bed of that shabby motel.

Sukuna goes through his work day routinely while the ghost of your touch still stays on his skin, reminding him of last night and this morning, and not even the adrenaline of running into a burning building can chase the memories of those lingering touches away.

He rescues another girl from a burning house, and she smiles at him and thanks him profusely, lifting a hand to touch him, but Sukuna takes a step back and out of her reach. When she asks him how she can pay him back, he just shakes his head and says

"No need to pay me back, ma'am. That's my job."

Sukuna feels strange when he drives back home to his apartment. All alone, just his music and the cigarette smoke filling his senses. But he finds that he doesn't regret turning this girl down. Because there is something else he craves. Someone else.

At the next red light, Sukuna pulls out his phone and presses dial, and then your sweet voice fills his car.

"Sukuna? Heyyy, how are you? I am so happy you called!"

A grin lifts Sukuna's lips when he answers,

"Hey princess, I'm coming over. What kind of food do you want for dinner?"

Sukuna has no clue how or why this happened, but it feels right. It feels right to call you and to drive to your motel. It feels right to spend the whole night in your arms and the next one, too, and maybe all of his nights from now on.

Maybe it's because no matter how much Sukuna still denies being a hero, he really likes being your hero.

OH BABYYY. I really want him to be my hero, too 😵😵 I hope you enjoyed this short story about sexy firefighter Sukuna! Thank you so much to Émilie for putting him in my mind. I can't wait to see your drawing of him!! 💗😋

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

[clarii]

Off Limits

Summary: Before Eddie Munson even officially met Dustin’s sister, Dustin warned him to stay far away from her, knowing she was exactly Eddie’s type. But when fate pairs them together as chemistry partners, Eddie can’t help but fall for her — and she starts falling too. One night, when she finally confesses her feelings, Eddie rejects her, torn between his growing feelings and his loyalty to Dustin.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader, Dustin & Eddie friendship, Dustin & Reader sibling relationship

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, rejection, hurt/comfort, protective sibling, pining, happy ending

“Hey, listen—”

Dustin caught Eddie just as he was packing up after Hellfire one night, voice unusually serious.

Eddie raised a brow. “You okay, Henderson? You look like you’re about to give me some sort of intervention.”

Dustin sighed, crossing his arms. “Look, I just… need you to promise me something.”

Eddie smirked. “Sure. Anything. Except giving up metal, or D&D, or my throne as your fearless leader.”

Dustin glared. “I’m serious, dude.” He took a breath. “It’s about my sister.”

That made Eddie straighten slightly, his smirk faltering.

“Yeah?”

“She’s off-limits.”

Eddie blinked. “What?”

Dustin’s face hardened. “I know your type, Munson. She is your type. And I don’t want you messing with her. Like… ever. Got it?”

Eddie scoffed, holding his hands up defensively. “Dude, I haven’t even met her. Chill. I’m not gonna—”

“I mean it.”

There was a rare protective edge to Dustin’s voice that made Eddie nod slowly, the teasing smile dropping.

“Yeah… okay, man. I get it. No funny business. Scouts honor.”

And he meant it.

But then came chemistry class.

It was almost comical how quickly the universe turned on him.

When Mrs. O’Donnell paired him with you for the semester-long chemistry project, Eddie had nearly choked on his gum when you introduced yourself with that soft, shy smile.

“Oh. You’re Henderson’s sister?”

You laughed. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”

And then he was screwed.

You were gorgeous — but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was how easy it was to talk to you. How you rolled your eyes at his bad jokes but laughed anyway. How you didn’t flinch when he rambled about D&D while sketching dragons on his notebook instead of paying attention.

And the flirting? Yeah. That just… happened.

Small touches when passing beakers. Sitting a little too close during study sessions. Him calling you sweetheart and you calling him out for it, but never actually minding.

It was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

————-

The tipping point was a quiet Wednesday night.

Eddie was sitting cross-legged on your bedroom floor, guitar pick between his teeth as he scribbled down notes for the chemistry report.

You, meanwhile, weren’t even pretending to focus.

You were too busy watching him — the way his curls fell over his face, the way he bit his lip when he concentrated.

It had been building for weeks.

The crush. The stolen glances. The feeling that maybe… just maybe… he felt it too.

And you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Eddie?”

He looked up, oblivious as ever, still chewing on his pick. “Yeah?”

You exhaled.

“I… I like you. Like, really like you. And I was wondering if… you’d ever consider, maybe, I don’t know… dating me?”

Silence.

Eddie froze, the pick dropping from his lips.

For a moment, he just stared, like he hadn’t heard you right.

Then —

“Wait, what?”

You flushed. “You heard me, Munson. Do you… feel the same? Or… did I totally misread this?”

His mouth opened. Then shut.

Because, God, he did feel the same. He felt everything.

But he also heard Dustin’s voice in his head, loud and clear.

“She’s off-limits.”

Eddie’s heart shattered.

He forced a strained laugh, running a hand through his curls.

“Y/N… you’re great. You really are. But… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Your face fell.

“Oh.”

The smile dropped from your lips, embarrassment crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You had been so sure.

“I… I thought—”

Eddie cut you off, voice almost desperate.

“No, it’s not you. I swear. You’re amazing. I just—”

You nodded stiffly, swallowing hard.

“It’s fine. We can just… finish the project another day. I’m not feeling well.”

“Wait, sweetheart—”

But you were already closing the door behind him.

And he felt like the biggest idiot on the planet.

—————

The next day was brutal.

You didn’t speak to him. Didn’t even look at him in chemistry class.

No stolen glances. No quiet jokes.

Just silence.

And it killed him.

—————-

At lunch, Dustin was the first to say something.

“You good, man? You look like you’ve been hit by a bus.”

Eddie blinked up from where he’d been pushing his food around his tray.

“Yeah… I’m fine.”

Dustin snorted. “You’re so not fine.”

A pause. Then Dustin frowned, glancing between Eddie and where you sat, equally miserable, across the cafeteria.

“Okay, what happened? You and my sister look like someone just kicked your puppies.”

Eddie hesitated.

Then he sighed, dropping his head into his hands.

“I messed up, man. She… she told me she liked me. And I said no.”

Dustin blinked. “Wait, what? But… you like her too. It’s so obvious—”

Eddie groaned. “I know! But you told me she was off-limits, dude! You literally made me promise!”

Dustin paled.

“Oh. Oh, crap.”

“Yeah. Crap.” Eddie stared at the table, voice quieter. “She’s the only girl I’ve ever felt like this about. And I just crushed her because I didn’t wanna lose you as a friend.”

Silence.

Dustin opened his mouth. Then closed it.

Then—

“Dude. I was being an idiot. I thought you’d mess around and break her heart or something, but… you care about her. And she clearly cares about you too.”

Eddie blinked. “You’re not mad?”

Dustin shook his head. “I’m mad you didn’t talk to me sooner. Go fix it, Munson.”

——-

That night, Eddie showed up on your doorstep.

You opened it, blinking in surprise.

“Eddie? What are you—”

He cut you off, words tumbling out.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t say no because I don’t care. I said no because I do care. And because I was scared. Your brother told me to stay away before we even met, and I didn’t wanna lose him as a friend. But pushing you away hurt worse. I like you, Y/N. So much.”

You stared, heart pounding.

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

Eddie winced. “I’m an idiot?”

You gave a watery laugh.

And when he hesitantly reached for your hand — fingers brushing, warm and gentle — you didn’t pull away.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I deserve that.”

“But… I like you too.”

His whole face lit up.

And when he kissed you, slow and soft, everything finally felt right.

The End.

[astroxrion]

Get Rich with your 9H:

(Travel,Teach,Expanding in International business)

Aries in the 9th

Get up and go. Nobody cares about your plan they care that you move. Teach what you’ve lived. Sell bold energy and fearless choices. Your passport is your permission slip. Be loud be first be visible and monetize the chaos you naturally create.

Taurus in the 9th

Make the world look expensive and sell it like a lifestyle. Your eye for comfort and beauty is the brand. Show up soft but unbothered and build offers around what feels good. Partner with luxury and stay grounded. Lazy gets you broke. So don’t be lazy.

Gemini in the 9th

Open your mouth and monetize your brain. You talk for free now it’s time to charge. Build content systems and keep dropping game daily. Sell knowledge with style and speed. If you’re silent you stay broke. If you’re visible you win. It’s that simple.

Cancer in the 9th

Your pain is the offer and your healing is the hook. Travel with heart and show people how to feel again. Run retreats that save people. Share softness that costs. You lead through emotion and you profit through care. Start building your sacred business.

Leo in the 9th

Make your life the show. Cameras on confidence up. Sell visibility sell boldness sell being the center. Influence with flair and make the attention pay you. You want fame then act famous. No one will look if you keep hiding. Shine on purpose or stay forgotten.

Virgo in the 9th

Monetize precision. Make a plan. Package the plan. Sell the plan. Your structure is the product and your clarity is rare. Teach systems to messy people. Get paid to organize the chaos. No more hiding behind drafts. Perfect it then ship it fast.

Libra in the 9th

Stop being pretty for free. Sell the aesthetics sell the balance sell the lifestyle. Partner with brands that reflect your taste. Teach people how to see and be seen. Influence is your lane but only if you claim it. Charm is currency. Spend it wisely.

Scorpio in the 9th

Make your pain pay. Go dark go deep tell the story no one else will. People buy what cracks them open. Offer transformation not just advice. Build mystery. Build intensity. Sell the shift. You’re not here to play nice you’re here to change lives.

Sagittarius in the 9th

No excuses. Go global. Speak teach film guide. Your wisdom is your product. Your passport is your platform. Turn freedom into business. Market your journey like religion. People will pay to be near your truth if you finally stand on it.

Capricorn in the 9th

Make moves that print long money. Build business across borders. Consult strategize lead. Teach from experience not theory. Profit from the structure you live by. Travel with purpose or don’t travel at all. Results only. Legacy now.

Aquarius in the 9th

Invent and disrupt. Make digital freedom the product. Teach the weird way that works. Build community while you move. People are stuck in the past. Sell the future. Stop waiting for approval. You’re the blueprint. Drop it and charge for it.

Pisces in the 9th

Your spirit makes money. Sell the vision sell the healing sell the dream. Host retreats that feel like rebirth. Channel your gifts into something real. Build offers that move through energy. Stop being scared to charge for your magic. You are the offering.

Get an Astrology Reading With me : https://www.tumblr.com/astroxrion/784631769533136896/o-my-readings-the-rion-code-o?source=share

[ivesambrose]

𝐴 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 💌

Happy Valentine's Day everyone ❤️

This is a love letter with your name on it, there's someone out there who has something to say to you 💌

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Envelope 1

To the one my heart recognises,

You move through life like a dreamer caught between worlds, always reaching, always searching, always holding a litle more hope than you let on. And I see it. I see you.

You chase after the things your heart aches for, even when the path twists, even when the road splits in too many directions. You weigh choices in your hands like they hold the weight of the universe, afraid to step too far in the wrong direction. But, love, you are never lost to me. No matter where you go, no matter how far you run, I will always find you. Because I already know the shape of your soul.

The world hasn't always been kind to you, and I know you carry the weight of thingS unspoken, the fractures from moments that tried to break you. But even in your quietest battles, you are still becoming. still unfolding into someone even more extraordinary than you were yesterday. And I will be here, beside you, through every rebirth

So leap. Make the reckless choice. Follow the dream that won't let you sleep at night. You were not meant to stay within lines drawn by other people's expectations, you were meant to break through, to touch the sky, to chase the impossible and make it yours.

And if ever you need a hand to hold, a heart that won't waver, or someone who will remind you of the fire in your soul, you already know where to find me.

I am yours. Always.

Envelope 2

With all that I am,

The one who was always meant for you.

To the One My Soul Knows,

Loving you is like standing beneath the moon, soft light, deep mystery, and the quiet knowing that some things are felt more than they are understood. There are parts of you that shift like tides, emotions that swell and retreat, thoughts that linger in the silence before sleep. And I love every version of you, every hidden depth, every unspoken word.

You are a force, a wild thing that cannot be tamed, and I would never want to. There is something raw, something instinctual about the way you move through this world like you are both ancient and new, both fearless and tender. I see the hunger in you, the ache for something real, something lasting. Love is not a word you take lightly. Nor do I.

With you, I see forever. Not in the way stories promise perfect endings, but in the way two souls recognize each other across lifetimes. In the way your touch feels like something I’ve known before, something I would know again, no matter where time places us. You are home, not because you make things easy, but because you make them true.

I want to build a life with you, not just in the quiet, beautiful moments, but in the raw, messy, achingly real ones. I want to know the thoughts you never say aloud, the dreams you keep close to your chest. I want to trace every part of you, mind and body, learning you in ways no one else ever has.

Loving you is a temple I will worship in for as long as you’ll let me. You are the question, the answer, the universe wrapped in skin. And if there is a destiny greater than this, I do not want to know it.

You are mine, and I am yours. In this life, and in every one after.

Forever,

The one who chooses you.

Envelope 3

To the One Who Holds My Heart,

Loving you is an unfolding, slow, steady, something delicate but unshakable. It isn’t always easy, and I know that. You carry so much in that beautiful mind of yours, thoughts that keep you awake when the world is quiet, worries that press against your chest like weights only you can feel. But you don’t have to hold it all alone. Not with me.

I see you. The way you give, the way you pour yourself into others, always making sure there is enough love to go around. But love, when was the last time you let yourself receive? When was the last time you let someone hold you the way you hold everyone else? I want to be that for you. Not just in fleeting moments, but in all the ways that matter.

I don’t need you to have it all figured out. I don’t need you to be perfect. I only need you to know that you are already enough, just as you are. Even in your quiet, even in your uncertainty, even in the moments you hesitate to let yourself be fully seen. You don’t have to keep your heart wrapped in caution, hidden away like a gem buried deep in the earth. Let it breathe. Let it shine.

Love doesn’t have to be rushed. It doesn’t have to be forced. It’s something we build, something we water, something that grows in its own time. So take my hand. Let’s rest in this moment together, without worrying about what comes next.

Because no matter how long it takes, no matter how many times the world shifts around us, I will still be here.

Always,

The one who chooses you, again and again.

[azrielbrainrot]

In the Face of Your Love

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: A love confession wasn't in Azriel's plans for the day.

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst

Word Count: 1,3k

Notes: In the face of writer's block I bring you another quick little story (that actually took me entirely too long to write). Hope you enjoy!

No matter how hard he tried Azriel couldn't remember the last time he had been in this situation. That's not to say he had never been confessed to before of course, that was far from the truth, but he didn't quite remember what to do in such a situation.

It didn't help that you were his friend, and because of it, someone he hadn't ever considered as anything more. If it were anyone else, he would probably be searching for the words to let them down as gently as possible, but looking into your expectant eyes, he can't help but wonder why exactly he had never thought about it before.

You were exceedingly beautiful and kind, remarkably intelligent and hard-working. You took care of your friends and helped them to the best of your abilities, always offering them a shoulder to cry on. Even though you weren't a fighter, Azriel was time and time again reminded of just how strong and fearless you were. You were perfect in his eyes, one of the best people he had ever gotten the pleasure of meeting in his centuries of life. He knew all of this as your friend, so how come he never looked deeper into the connection you shared?

Azriel knew it was partly, or mostly really, because of his lack of luck when it came to such things. Spending centuries in love with the same person, out of habit more than anything, pushing away everyone that threatened to make him feel anything of consequence gave him a long list of detachment issues unsurprisingly, and when he thought he could have something special with the middle Archeron sister after finally moving on from Mor only for it to blow up in his face before it even started, he was forced to take a good look at himself and his actions, and upon realizing that he was in no way ready for a relationship even though he felt desperate for it, Azriel came to conclusion that it was best to focus on his work and his friends, and leave such glittering dreams behind him.

That had been almost a decade ago, before he even met you. For the first time since then, he finds himself thinking of what it would be like to wake up next to someone, share his thoughts and dreams with that person, have someone to hold him through the hard times and take care of them in kind. For the first time in years, Azriel wonders if he could deserve someone's love after all.

His hesitation seems to start weighing on your excitement, pretty eyes moving to watch the ground as a heavy breath escapes you, not bearing the sight of his wide hazel eyes anymore. When you look up at him again a bitter smile is etched on your face, one that makes Azriel’s chest feel heavy and constricted.

“You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know, it felt like it was eating me alive keeping it to myself.” The humorless laugh you let out brings a furrow to his brows, but you keep going before he finds the right words. “I hope I'm not making things weird between us, nothing really has to change-”

“Wait,” Azriel finds himself calling out when he notices you taking a step back, away from him.

Unfortunately he stays quiet a second too long after and you end up taking yet another step back, your next words even more heartbreaking than before. “It's okay, Az. You really don't have to comfort me.”

“I don't want to comfort you.”

“Oh.”

He grabs onto your arm gently when you go to turn around, intent on walking to the door this time, cursing himself when he notices the wetness gathering in your eyelids.

“Please don't go,” he begs, staring into your eyes, hoping his will show you a glimpse at all the emotions swirling around in his heart, maybe you could make better sense of them than him. “I'm not good with words and I'm even worse with my feelings, but I can try to explain myself if you just give me a moment. Please.”

“Alright.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, your body letting go of most of the tension as you watch him. He drops his hold on you and offers you a small, grateful smile.

“You caught me off guard, I never noticed your feelings for me weren't entirely platonic,” he starts carefully, eyes flickering down towards your hand, wondering for a moment if holding it in his would be too much, too unfair to you.

“Some Spymaster,” you tease him back, a breathy chuckle escaping him and releasing the tension from his body, his hand reaching down to hold yours.

“I gave up on love a long time ago, long before I met you. Things have never worked out for me, partly for my own faults, making me think I just wasn't meant for these things.” The frown that settles over your face makes his heart skip a beat. Cute, it was cute, adorable even. Gods, how had he been so blind? “So, you see, I never stopped to wonder if we could have a relationship beyond our friendship even though I cherish your presence in my life immensely.”

“And now?”

“Now I'm thinking back on all our time spent together, the times we laughed and cried together, the times you cared for me and I cared for you.” This time he's the one to move, except he's taking a step closer to you, the distance feeling too big now. “I'm wondering what it would be like to come home to you every day, to hold you in my arms at night, to take you to every restaurant and bakery shop you talked about, to hold your hand in mine whenever I want.” Azriel squeezes your hand softly, your smile widening at the gesture. His other hand reaches for your cheek, cupping it delicately before continuing in a hushed tone, “Now I'm thinking I really want to know what your lips taste like.”

“Az,” you breathe out, eyes falling on his lips. He leans down and pecks your cheek softly, taking a step back to look into your eyes.

“If you still mean what you said…”

“Of course I do.” It's your turn to squeeze his hand, tugging on it to pull him back closer to you, he finds it extremely hard to resist you, but he wants to do things right.

“Then I want to invite you for dinner tonight,” he says, a weight he didn't realize was there before lifting off his chest when you nod immediately. “I think we should take things slow, for both of our sakes, and I don't want to promise you anything, the last thing I want to do is hurt you, but I want to try. I want to know what it's like to feel loved and give it back in kind.”

Your face lights up, smiling up at him with an intensity that threatens to blind him. Familiar dark thoughts start swirling in his mind, telling him how he would only snuff it out of you, but he does his best to tamper them down.

Azriel knew he loved you, that much was never up for discussion, and when comparing the love he had for you to the love he held for his brothers or the rest of his family, he can only feel disbelief that he had never questioned it. He would never do anything to hurt you, he would give his life for you without question, and was ready to face his fears and faults head-on if it would make him worthy of being by your side.

“It's a date then?”

He smiles even wider, his face hurting with the unfamiliarity of it, bringing your interlocked hands up to his face and dropping a kiss on the back of your hand, heart fluttering in his chest.

“It's a date.”

[chateaaa]

☆ Symphony - T. Muichiro

synopsis: Tokito Muichiro Boyfriend Headcanons

pairing: Tokito Muichiro x fem! reader

warnings: fluff, kinda angst at the end (happy ending!!!)

❝ You took my broken melody

And now, I hear a symphony ❞

- Muichiro Tokito, the cold hearted hashira who is known as being a fearless swordsman who has reached the highest rank in the demon slayer corps

- Muichiro Tokito who became a softy ever since he met you

- Muichiro Tokito who has a very sharp tongue, but when it comes to you, he becomes very soft spoken and nice

- Muichiro Tokito who always remembers the smallest details of Y/n

- Muichiro Tokito who always prioritizes your safety over him, he promises to always be your knight in shining haori

- Muichiro Tokito who always watches the clouds with you

- Muichiro Tokito whose love language is an act of service and quality time

- Muichiro Tokito who always makes sure you eat well, who makes sure you sleep enough, who always protects you from demons, who always buy you gifts from the places he visits when he slays demons

- Muichiro Tokito who has a hard time opening up since he frequently has memory lost, so i think his significant other would be a person who remembers many things

- Muichiro Tokito who shows his vulnerable side to you, he will be the type to show his sadness especially after the swordsmith village arc

- Muichiro Tokito who would be very clingy to you, especially if you are a demon slayer because becoming a demon slayer means that you have to risk your life everyday

- Muichiro Tokito who would daydream about what you and him are going to be doing after the war such as becoming a couple, getting married and becoming old together

- Muichiro Tokito who swears to protect you till his last breath

- Muichiro Tokito who would go into rage mode after he sees you being stabbed by Uppermoon 1, severe injuries clearly visible

- Muichiro Tokito who promises to find you in the next life as he held your lifeless body close to his as he felt himself turning cold

"y/n.... i'm sorry for not protecting you.... don't worry, i promise to find you... even if it takes me a million years"

- Reincarnated! Muichiro Tokito who helps you during school works, teaching you subjects you don't understand

- Reincarnated! Muichiro Tokito who always takes you on cloud gazing dates

- Reincarnated! Muichiro Tokito who always give you snacks in school

- Reincarnated! Muichiro Tokito who found you after 1,000 years <3

a/n: the 'knight in shining haori' is actually inspired from a fanfic i read in wattpad lol! hope u enjoy reading, i love muichiro sm iekejeeksjsjs

sorry guys, muichiro's kinda ooc i dont know how to write him that much 😓😓

that being said! i'm going to be publishing a muichiro tokito fanfic! stay tuned <3

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° because i liked a boy

♡ a/n — for my new childhood friends to lovers series :)

♡ word count — 1.5k

♡ content — oliver aiku x fem! reader, fem! reader, could be gn but i wanted to be safe in case i missed a few pronouns, childhood friends to lovers, mention of social media hate, goes from 2nd grade to the U-20 game, nickname 'my girl' used once

♡ synopsis — You’d been Oliver Aiku's best friend since you could walk, but what if you wanted to be more?

Oliver Aiku had always been larger than life. Even as a scrappy little kid on the soccer field, he had this magnetic pull that made you look at him twice. It wasn’t just the way he played—wild and relentless, like the ball was an extension of himself—it was the way he owned the field, every inch of it.

He’d score a goal, throw his arms in the air, and spin to face the crowd as if he were already playing in a packed stadium. The parents on the sidelines clapped politely, some shaking their heads at his showboating, but you? You clapped the loudest.

Parents exchanged awkward glances, but none of it ever phased Oliver.

He had you.

You’d been his best friend since you could walk—your families were next-door neighbors, practically an extension of each other. Whenever someone had enough of his showboating, he’d turn to you with that unshakable grin.

“You saw that, right?” he’d call out, jogging over to where you sat with your knees pulled to your chest.

“Yeah, Oliver, I saw,” you’d reply, trying and failing to hide your smile.

“That’s why you’re my favorite,” he’d say, tousling your hair before running off to join his teammates.

Back then, he didn’t care who was watching or what anyone thought. It was enough that you were there, your laughter and cheers louder than everyone else’s combined.

By middle school, Oliver had grown taller, his voice deepening as his grin remained the same. He still played soccer like the world depended on it, but something else was changing, too.

Your classmates whispered in hallways about who liked who, notes were passed in class, and suddenly everyone seemed to be holding hands. Oliver wasn’t immune to the wave of adolescent curiosity, but unlike the others, he approached it with the same fearless energy he brought to the game.

He started dating casually, his charm drawing girls in like moths to a flame. Each week, there was a new name, a new story. You’d sit on your bedroom floor together, him tossing a soccer ball from hand to hand while you half-listened to his latest escapades.

“She dumped me,” he said one day, catching the ball and staring at it like it held the answers.

“Why?”

“She said I didn’t text her enough,” he replied with a shrug.

“Did you?”

“Nope.” He tossed the ball into the air and caught it again. “Too much effort.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed anyway. It was impossible to stay annoyed with him for long, but something about these conversations left a knot in your chest. You weren’t sure why until the day he turned to you, his grin soft and sincere.

“Hey, if you’re feeling left out,” he said, “we could date.”

Your heart stumbled in your chest. “What?”

“I like you,” he said, as if it were obvious. “If you like me, let’s try. You’re the only person who actually gets me anyway.”

The words hung in the air between you, so simple yet so earth-shattering. You liked him—you always had—but the thought of crossing that line was terrifying. Still, the way he looked at you, so sure, made it impossible to say no.

But it didn’t take long for you to realize you weren’t ready. The idea of ruining what you had—the easy laughter, the shared history—was too much.

You barely managed to hold his hand, let alone anything else. So you broke it off before it could go any further.

Still, Oliver didn’t hold it against you. “You’re my best friend,” he’d said. “That’s never gonna change.”

And he kept his word. To this day, you were the only ex Oliver Aiku had ever stayed friends with.

By the time high school rolled around, Oliver was no longer just a neighborhood star. He was the Oliver Aiku, soccer prodigy and the center of every conversation. He’d grown into his confidence, wearing it like a second skin, and the world couldn’t look away.

Everyone wanted a piece of him—teammates, classmates, even teachers. And though he still found his way to your side, leaning against your locker or texting you late at night, the space between you began to grow.

“I miss when it was just us,” you admitted one afternoon, your voice barely louder than the hum of the vending machines outside the gym.

Oliver tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “What do you mean? It’s still us.”

But it wasn’t. Not really.

You didn’t say that, though. Instead, you smiled and nodded, trying to ignore the ache of watching him move further into a world where you couldn’t quite follow.

You tried not to let it bother you, the way girls flocked to him in the hallways, the way his name was always on someone’s lips. You weren’t invisible, not really, but compared to him? It felt like you were.

Still, Oliver always made time for you. You were grateful for that.

“You’re the only one I can actually talk to,” he said, making it clear there's a reason it's always been you two. “Everyone else just wants to hear about soccer.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Maybe that’s because you never shut up about it.”

He grinned, nudging you playfully. “See? That’s why I like you. Low maintenance. A good friend.”

For some reason, the words stung. You’d always been friends—why did hearing him say it now hurt so much?

When Oliver got his first pro offer, it should have been the happiest day of his life.

He found you immediately after practice, bursting through the door of your part-time job at the library with his usual uncontainable energy.

“I’m taking you out,” he declared, practically dragging you away from the returns cart.

You laughed, stumbling after him. “Shouldn’t you be with your family? This is a huge deal!”

He shook his head, grinning. “I have all the time in the world with them,” he said, flashing you a grin. “I’d rather be with my girl.”

You froze. “I’m not your girl—”

He cut you off. “Do you want to be?”

The air shifted between you, heavy with something unspoken. This time, you didn’t back away.

The words lit something warm in your chest, and for the first time in years, it felt like things were back to the way they used to be. Just you and Oliver, like always.

Oliver’s first season was everything you’d hoped for him. His name was everywhere, his skills celebrated, his confidence unmatched. When the season ended, he posted a picture of the two of you on Instagram—a soft launch for some, but for Oliver, it was a declaration.

“First year down, forever to go,” the caption read.

Some assumed he was talking about soccer. You knew better.

But by his second season, the narrative had changed. His performance wasn’t as sharp, at least in the eyes of fans and reporters. Every missed pass, every fumbled play, was scrutinized. And somehow, the blame landed on you.

“She’s a distraction,” one reporter wrote. “He was better when he was single,” another said. “With that woman clinging to him, he won’t make it in this industry,” a coach even said during a press conference.

Your social media became a war zone. Strangers flooded your posts with hate, blaming you for Oliver’s supposed “decline.” You tried to ignore it, but the words stuck to your skin like thorns.

The U-20 loss was devastating, the kind of failure that sent shockwaves through his career and his psyche. When you found him in the locker room after the game, he was a shell of himself, his usual confidence replaced by simmering frustration.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes.

“I wanted to see you,” you said softly.

He let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, maybe that’s the problem.”

You froze. “What are you talking about?”

“You,” he snapped. “I should’ve listened,” he continued, his tone venomous. “Everyone warned me, but I was stupid enough to think you wouldn’t ruin my life.”

You'd fought before, what couple hadn't but, you ruining his life? "I've been friends with you basically your whole life!" you argued back, fists clutching at the 'Aiku' jersey that adorned your torso.

No matter what you said, Oliver wasn't listening. “You’ve been nothing but a distraction. Ever since we got together, everything’s gone to shit. My career, my focus—it’s all your fault.”

The words sliced through you, sharper than any knife. “Oliver, that’s not fair—”

“Fair?” He laughed again, harsh and hollow. “What’s fair is that I gave up everything for this, and I’m still losing. Maybe if I hadn’t wasted so much time with you, things would be different.”

Your breath caught, tears blurring your vision. “If that’s how you feel, then I should go.”

“Maybe you should,” he said, his voice cold and final.

So you left.

The weeks that followed were unbearable. You deleted your social media, unable to face the onslaught of strangers blaming you for Oliver’s mistakes. Everywhere you went, you felt like a ghost, haunted by his words and the memories of what you’d shared.

You wanted to hate him, to let his betrayal harden your heart, but the truth was, you missed him.

And deep down, you wondered if he missed you too.

the synopsis is awful so sorry if you jumped in not knowing what was gonna happen

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[thatpieceoftrash]

You look just like a dream

Malleus Draconia x reader

WC: 1.016

In which you capture a picture of a certain fae(along with his heart)

“Hey stranger, what brings you here in the dead of night?”

Except he definitely wasn’t a stranger, especially not after finding out his real name a few weeks prior.

“Good evening, Child of Man. Isn't it a bit too late for you to be outside?” Malleus greeted you as stepped through the gate leading to ramshackle.

“Normally it would be, but I wanted to test the camera Crowley gave me” you told him, holding up the so-called ghost camera the headmage gave you at the beginning of the year, so you could capture what goes on throughout the school, although you suspect it was another task he was freeing himself of. Well, it wasn’t that big of a deal, at least you got a cool device to make up for it.

“Ah, I believe I have seen you around with it, although I’m not quite certain how it works.“ He said with a pensive look on his face, which was now much closer to you. Close enough to also see the confusion clouding those impossibly green eyes of his.

“Come here, I’ll show you how it works,” you said patting the space next to you. The fae was reluctant at first, likely not being used to such a close proximity with anyone, but after a moment he joined you on the old, cracked stairs of ramshackle, with his shoulder touching yours.

“Alright, so first you look through this small window to see what exactly you’ll take a picture of,” you started explaining, pointing your camera towards the starry sky, “and then, once you’re sure this is what you want, you just click on this button and it’s done!” You demonstrated as best as you could to Malleus, who wore such a serious expression on his beautiful visage, you’d think this was an incredibly important meeting, and not some barely understandable explanations.

“I see. To think whatever you capture is forever immortalised in that camera of yours. How fascinating.” There was a soft glimmer in his eyes as he spoke to you, and so the words coming out of your mouth shouldn’t have been all that surprising.

“Would you like to be immortalised as well, Tsunotaro?” You inquired, slowly turning your head towards him, catching the faint surprised look on his face, but it slowly turned into his familiar and haughty smirk. Now this one you were familiar with.

He let out a small laugh at your question, “You’d wish to capture me with your camera? Truly fearless of you to ask me, I do not usually let other people photograph me, but since it’s you I’ll make an exception.”

You absolutely beamed at this and got up as fast as you could. “Really?! Okay, okay just stay there and I’ll set the camera!” You would not refuse an opportunity to have a picture of the prince all to yourself. After all, he really was quite pretty to look at.

“Very well, is my pose agreeable to you?” Malleus asked as he sat up straighter, but while his whole demeanour screamed nobility, his smile was slightly wider than you were used to, and you could even see a fang poking out from behind those pale kissable lips.

“Perfect!” And you weren’t lying, as you quickly captured what you definitely consider your magnum opus for pictures.

“I’ll definitely be keeping this somewhere safe, out of Grim’s paws, and the ghosts wandering gazes.” You smiled to yourself as you looked at the small paper with your horned friend on it.

“You’d keep me only for your eyes to regard? Possessive, are you?” Malleus questioned, from his position now behind you, with this chin on your shoulder taking a glance at his portrait “Well, I suppose I don’t mind if I have your admiration alone.“

Maybe he doesn’t mind the proximity after all “Well I’ll think of this as my own treasure, don’t you also have that?” You tried to keep a cool head, but his hot breath next to your ear made it harder to even think.

“Oh, I most definitely do, my dearest Child of Man”

You barely had enough time to register his words before you felt a pair of hands grab your waist.

“Why, my greatest treasure is right here.” His whisper sent a shiver down your spine.

“Are you also gonna keep me for yourself only?” You teased him back, turning your face to gauge his reaction.

His eyes widened a little, before he let out a laugh, “you say the most curious things, I advise you to be careful, lest a dragon steals you away.” He almost purred those words, and your brain stopped functioning.

“What if I say I wouldn't mind it?” You challenged him, slowly bringing your lips closer to his.

“Oh my, a brave one, are you? Tempting me like this. Remember that you brought this on.” And as you were about to retort, he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Malleus, you tease!“ you sputtered before turning away completely, but you didn’t leave the warmth of his arms.

He gave a delighted laugh at that. “Apologies, my dear, I just couldn't resist. You’ll forgive me for my insolence, won’t you?” He said, placing yet another kiss on your shoulder.

“I’ll forgive you, but then you'll also have to forgive me,” you said, suddenly turning back to him.

“Whatever for-“ but he didn't get to finish his sentence, as you planted your lips to his.

For a moment he froze, and you wondered if maybe you shouldn't have been to bold, but his shock quickly melted away, in favour of kissing you back, with just as much, if not more vigor, grabbing your waist and pulling you impossibly closer to him, as you grabbed his ethereal face.

You only pulled away when you needed to breathe, with your foreheads touching each other. Neither of you said a word, as you basked in the comforting silence that followed, though you knew you’d eventually have to talk about it.

“Well, I suppose I could pardon this transgression, if you give me another kiss.”

[n0cturn4]

Character: Adult!Damian Wayne x Reader Summary: “I offer you my heart,” he murmured, his voice now an intimate whisper. “And the freedom to do with it as you will.” Word Count: 1185 Music: Habibi

It was a night of scorching heat in the infinite desert, where the sky, dotted with stars, reflected the glow of a fate written long before the birth of kingdoms. In the palace of Al-Nadir, grand and carved in marble and gold, Prince Damian Wayne, now a grown man, wandered silently through its vast corridors. His firm steps echoed like a whisper of responsibility and power. Damian, the prince who carried the weight of two legacies within him, had always been an enigma, a man made of shadows and steel. But that night, something beyond the throne unsettled him. He felt an emptiness, an absence that neither gold nor glory could fill.

The festival of Al-Nadir pulsed like a living heart in the city below, where the people celebrated, and the arts flourished under the desert heat. On that special night, dancers from all corners came to showcase their talents, but there was one in particular, a presence that stood out among all, like a rare flower in the sands of destiny.

And then he saw her.

You, a dancer whose movements seemed to defy the very stars. Your feet glided across the stage like a gentle breeze over the dunes, and your eyes, burning and mysterious, revealed stories that words could never contain. Your body, adorned with veils and jewels that shimmered in the torchlight, moved with a grace that did not belong to this world. Every gesture, every curve of your body was silent poetry, a promise of freedom and power.

Damian, a man accustomed to hiding his emotions, felt his heart waver. The serenity he always carried like armor shattered before your dance. He, a prince of steel, was captivated by a flame he did not understand but could not ignore.

When the music ceased and the applause echoed, Damian knew he had to meet you. He ordered to be taken to you, not with the arrogance of a prince, but with the curiosity of a man before a mystery he longed to unravel. In the palace’s private gardens, beneath the shadows of exotic trees, he waited. The sound of water running through the fountains was the only noise besides his own heartbeat.

You arrived, your eyes raised, firm and fearless, as enigmatic as your dance. There was no fear in your posture, only calm curiosity, as if you knew this encounter was inevitable.

“You called for me, Your Highness?” your voice was a thread of silk, as soft as the night breeze.

Damian tilted his head, his green eyes analyzing you as if he could read your soul through every subtle movement.

“There is something in your dance,” he said, his voice deep and controlled, “something that goes beyond art. There’s a story behind every one of your movements. A battle... a freedom.”

Your lips curved into a slight smile, something enigmatic, like a moon partially veiled by clouds. You observed him with the same care, surprised by his insight.

“Every gesture I make carries the weight of my own story,” you replied. “Dancing is the only freedom I truly have.”

Damian stepped closer, his words like veiled promises in the warm night air. “What if I could offer you more than just that fleeting freedom? What if I could give you something greater?”

You raised an eyebrow, your eyes sparkling with curiosity. “What exactly would you offer me, Your Highness?”

He did not hesitate, his words were precise, like the arrows he so skillfully wielded. “A choice. Stay by my side. Not as a prisoner of my will, but as an equal. Someone who challenges my spirit and shares the burden of power with me. I see in you what few would—strength that deserves to be honored, not tamed.”

The night seemed suspended between you, the wind carrying only the echoes of something forming, something neither of you had anticipated.

“And if I accept this offer,” you asked, your tone low but filled with meaning, “what do I get in return, besides power and your wealth?”

Damian took another step closer, until his eyes, intense as the desert itself, penetrated yours.

“I offer you my heart,” he murmured, his voice now an intimate whisper. “And the freedom to do with it as you will.”

You stepped forward, reducing the distance that still remained between you. Your eyes, deep and mysterious, met his with firmness. It was like looking into a distorted mirror—you, the free dancer, and he, the chained prince. Two worlds so different, yet drawn to each other as if the universe had conspired for this moment.

“And what would you do, Prince,” you began, your voice flowing like a soft melody, “if I took your heart and turned it into my own dance? If I made it part of who I am?”

Damian smiled, a rare smile, almost imperceptible, carrying both melancholy and hope. There was something vulnerable in his stance, a man who had always been a fortress now lowering his defenses before a stranger, yet still, a soul he seemed to have known forever.

“Then,” he replied, with a soft gleam in his eyes, “I would become part of your freedom. Because in the end, there is no greater power than being in the hands of someone you trust.”

For a moment, the world around you seemed to stop. The sounds of the festival in the distance, the murmuring fountains, even the soft breeze among the leaves, all silenced in the intensity of that moment. The moon poured its silver light over the garden, as if the heavens were watching and approving of what was unfolding.

You stepped even closer, until you were so near that you could feel the heat emanating from his body, his presence strong and solid. Your fingers, delicate and skilled like in your dance, gently touched Damian's chest, right over where his heart beat. The touch was light, almost like a breeze, but the connection that formed was deep, instantaneous.

“Your freedom and mine are like two stars dancing in the sky, Prince,” you said softly. “I accept what you offer, but know that I will not be a silent companion. My soul is not meant to be contained.”

Damian breathed deeply, as if your words had the power to ignite something deep within him. His eyes never left yours for a moment.

“That is exactly why I chose you,” he murmured, his voice dense, full of promise. “I don’t want someone who bows, but someone who walks beside me. I want someone who challenges me, who makes me question the world as it is.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him, as if deciphering the final secret hidden in his soul.

“Then, Prince Damian,” you said, a light smile on your lips, “we will dance together.”

And so, under the stars that silently watched, the bond between you was formed. The Prince of Al-Nadir, with his heart in the hands of a dancer, and you, with the promise of a love that could not be contained by borders or duties. The night, a silent witness, became the stage for the first act of a story that would defy fate and time.

And in that dance of souls and hearts entwined, Damian Wayne's world began to change, one step at a time.

[bvidzsoo]

hiii congrats on hitting 3.5k!! i love your writings 🥹 for the event, can i get 6 & 27 with yunho? thank you!!

embrace me before you go

Pairing: Spiderman!Jeong Yunho x gender neutral reader

∞ TW: mentions of crime, murder and weapons, allusion to depression ∞ Word count: 3.7k ∞ Genre: angst; Marvel Superhero AU; Spiderman AU; high school sweethearts; lovers to exes to lovers; post university setting, @cromernet ∞ Rating: pg-13 ∞ Prompt(s): 6: Wait, don't pull away...not yet. / 27: Do you normally go this long without sleep?

A/N: Hello, anonie! When I saw your request my mind instantly said: 'what if I make it a Spiderman!au since we all love Yuyu like that'. I hope you enjoy it anonie, and I promise it's not a bad ending, their love shall prosper ehehe! Thank you for requesting, I hope you'll love this story too! ^^ Requests are open until the 8th, you can check out the prompts here! divider

The big city was quiet for once. The rainfall had subsided not long ago, allowing you to leave the alcove underneath which you had found refuge from the downpour. The past few days have been gloomy, the grey rain clouds looming in the sky over the city, forcing people to stay inside if they had the luxury to do so. You didn’t have that luxury, but it was fine, you were already used to it. Just like you were used to the high crime it was so well-known for in the rest of your country. You should’ve been more scared to walk alone at night, the shadows crawling on the walls frightening enough to force you to walk faster. But you didn’t. Not because you were fearless, no, you were perhaps too aware of just how dangerous your city was. You just couldn’t care, not tonight when you were so tired. Your feet ached, your calves quivering at every step, and you sighed when you finally reached the bus station. Nobody was around as you settled on the bench, leaning forward to cradle your head in your hands. A few cars passed by, driving into the puddles on the road and your skin was covered by goosebumps as a cold gust of wind blew through the boulevard.

It hadn’t always been like this. Your life, you mean…there were brighter and happier times when your life was filled with laughter and the only worry was missing your term paper or homework due dates. It wasn’t even that long ago, but it felt like it. You sighed as your stomach churned, and you realized your fridge was completely empty at home. That wouldn’t be new either, just another night when you’d go to bed hungry, just to wake up nauseous the next morning. You gulped, hearing something shift behind you. You didn’t react, you knew it was better if you didn’t. But the rustling continued and when your skin was covered in goosebumps again, you knew something was wrong. You licked your lips and stood up straight, rigid as you were met with a masked man standing in the middle of the road. It didn’t look like he carried a weapon on him, but you knew he did. Every criminal—and not just—in this city did. The pepper spray felt heavy in your bag, and you moved slowly, reaching for it without making it obvious. But the masked man just knew, and he took off running towards you before you could even scream.

But he was charging towards you one second, and then the next he was gone. Whisked away by nothing but a blur of red and blue, a swish of the air so quick that the eyes weren’t able to register what happened. But yours did. You knew who that was. Your heart hammered in your chest as you stood up abruptly, your body working on autopilot. God, you felt pathetic for wanting to call out his name when it was you who decided to end things. And it only became more pathetic when you realized almost a whole year and a half had passed since you two had split up, and yet here you were…fighting the urge to call out your ex’s name. The superhero had better things to do than sit around and wait for you to say something.

Yunho had better things to do than being held back by someone like you. Broke and pathetic, indebted at twenty-four already, with no promising future ahead of yourself. You wanted to be an artist, but who were you kidding…you were no nepo-baby, you were never going to make it. But Yunho…Jeong Yunho was bright and smart, talented and a genius working at Kang Corporations since he was seventeen. And you…you were nothing and nowhere. You huffed to yourself as the bus pulled up finally, taking you away from the bus station.

You didn’t want to think about why he had shown up, it was only normal after all, he was the city’s superhero. It was Spiderman’s duty to look out for the citizens, and you were a regular citizen like everyone else. He was pretty much obliged to save you, to look out for you, and yet…your heart flickered with hope, with faith, that maybe Yunho was missing you, too. By the time you made it home your whole stomach was aching from hunger, and your feet almost buckled when you saw the white bag hung on the door handle, the little note inside making your jaw clench.

Eat, please. ~ Y.

You wondered why he had shown up in your life again, right now out of all times. You were thinking of moving again…but not just to a different neighbourhood, but to a completely different city. You wanted a fresh start, away from everyone who you knew, who judged you and laughed at you, far away from the crime and…Spiderman. You realized it was time you rediscovered yourself, and became the person you always dreamed of being. And you couldn’t do that here, where each step of yours reminded you of a past you never got over, the memories that still haunted your dreams, the wanton touches that made you yearn, made you miss the man’s gentle eyes and smile, his joyous laughter and his honest words, his gentle but loud love that made you crave and crave some more, wanting to take and consume, to never perish. But that wasn’t doable anymore, and you knew it…Yunho knew it, too.

You had never wanted to make him choose, never. You loved him with your whole heart, but the days and nights started bleeding into each other and he barely came home. You knew he was dedicating his life to his research as well as saving the city, but it felt like that took you out of the equation. You had been a constant in his life, always there, something stable he could return to when things got scary, and you wanted more now. You wanted to become his priority, you wanted Yunho to drop everything if you needed him, you wanted your dates not to be interrupted by some damsel in distress, and you wished he stopped taking all-nighters so that he could find new solutions for his research progression. All you ever did was wish for more and more, yearn and want, but you never asked for anything. You tried to be grateful for what you had, but it became unbearable one day. It had been a rainy day, the trains were late and people were rushing home after a long day at work. You had just been kicked out from the art club for missing the last few deadlines. You were crying as you were headed to the metro, until you weren’t, until a knife was pressing into your neck, making you freeze up.

You were so in your head that you didn’t realise you had walked into an active hostage situation, police cars surrounding the building. And now it was too late as you gasped, standing motionless against your attacker. Your eyes searched the skies and the sides of the buildings, but there was no sight of Yunho. And then you realized he had a conference today, an important one which might help him take his research to the next step if he got funding from the Parks. So you knew Spiderman wasn’t going to come, Jeong Yunho wouldn’t come. You didn’t dare scream or cry, you didn’t even breathe as the police officers negotiated your and the other’s hostages' release. Yunho didn’t show up until later when you were still shaking and your eyes were red, your body not completely dry from the shower you took. Yunho’s t-shirt was doing nothing to comfort you in his absence, his cologne not enough anymore.

“Baby! I did it! I got the—” When Yunho rounded the corner, his grin faltered and his eyes widened. He was by your side in an instant, kissing your cheeks and checking if you were injured. But you weren’t, not even a nick from the knife. You looked into his eyes hollowly before he cradled you to his chest, and your body shook more as you sniffed, kissing his chest where his heart was.

“I was kicked out from the art club today.” Yunho froze for a second as you started crying, letting him rock you in his arms as you came undone, your body aching and your soul yearning for something you couldn’t have.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Yunho whispered, his eyes watery as you pulled back to look at him. He looked genuinely so sad for you, it broke your heart that you took away his happiness, that instead of celebrating his success he had to comfort you for something that wasn’t even nearly as significant as his achievement. Your lips couldn’t even form the words to tell him you were taken hostage today, you knew Yunho would never forgive himself.

“It’s okay,” You muttered as your heart broke even further. You leaned closer and closed your eyes as your foreheads pressed together. Yunho held you tighter, squeezing you to his chest as he exhaled slowly, kissing you on the lips gently, “I’m happy for you, Yunho.”

Your voice wavered as you pulled back, your heart racing as you stared into Yunho’s unsure eyes. He must’ve felt you were about to say something he didn’t want to hear—no, feared he’d ever hear coming from you. But it had to be said and done, you couldn’t pull down Yunho anymore. He deserved better, so much better.

“Let’s break up.”

“I love you.”

He tried to ignore your words, he tried to speak over you as desperation bled into his tone, holding onto you so tightly that it hurt. Your skin would bruise, but you wanted that to happen. You wanted Yunho’s mark to be burned into your skin for it was the last thing that would be of his. You untangled yourself from his arms and stood as Yunho followed your every move with his eyes, frozen in his spot. He didn’t say anything as you packed a duffle bag full of your stuff—that was all you had to your name. He didn’t say anything when you pressed a wet kiss against his lips, his inhale deep as his fingers gripped your cheeks tightly, trying to hold you back. He had probably known this moment would come, so he didn’t try to stop you. He didn’t try to hold you down like so many other people would’ve. Yunho loved you so much that he was willing to let you go because deep down, he knew you wouldn’t have lasted. What he did as Spiderman was too dangerous, what if he was out while you needed him? What if he didn’t show up in time? He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, he couldn’t do that to you. So, he stayed put as you walked out on him, crying silent tears as he clutched the sheets where you had been tangled up before his arrival, still smelling so much like you. God, he loved you so much he wondered if he’d survive on his own now.

      That was the last time you saw Yunho since you had broken up. The city was large enough to ensure you two would never again run into each other, and you knew Yunho had all your favourite spots and places memorized, so he stayed away. You also made an effort to avoid any place you knew he liked—or might’ve liked—and acted like you were fine, like you could breathe without your heart aching at every step that took you further away from Yunho. The feel of his touch still lingered in the back of your mind, his warm and loving embrace too, but you ignored it to your best capacity, finding something to distract yourself with. It didn’t always work, especially right after you left him, but you were doing relatively fine now. Except that ever since Spiderman showed up at the bus station to stop the masked man from hurting you, you couldn’t stop thinking about Yunho.

Your apartment was being emptied little by little, just a few more boxes and you were ready to go. You heard a nagging voice in the back of your head trying to tell you that what you were doing was wrong, but you ignored it as you cooked yourself a simple dinner, your one day off having passed by in a blink. It was late at night as the police sirens billowed in the distance, and you looked out the window, eyes cast towards the sky and the sides of the buildings, looking for one person only. Maybe catching a glimpse of him would bring some closure and help settle your restlessness, but who were you kidding…you knew that if you saw Yunho right now, you wouldn’t have the power to leave anymore. You gulped, turning off the stove as you leaned against the counter, eyes lost as you stared towards your TV. A movie was on, but you couldn’t tell which one it was as you hadn’t been paying attention to it. You just wanted some noise in the background while you cooked, your mind lost in never-ending memories. You were feeling nostalgic, so you wondered if it was a good idea to drink some beer tonight. You never deleted Yunho’s number—and even if you did, you knew it by heart—so you couldn’t trust yourself with what you’d do if you got tipsy.

As you turned to grab a plate for your dinner, you heard a thud coming from the small balcony your apartment had. Your eyebrows furrowed as you paused, your head slowly turning towards the balcony. Something dark shifted outside and your heart started racing, making you gulp as you grabbed a knife in case you had to defend yourself. You lived on the twelfth floor, but in a city like yours, you never knew from which way the danger came. You gulped as you took a deep breath, then slowly walked towards the balcony, hands slightly shaking. You pulled the curtain aside just as your door clicked unlocked, and both you and the person on the outside froze as you noticed each other. Your heart raced even faster as you stared at the familiar red mask, Yunho’s tall body hunched over as you took a step back, letting him open the balcony door. You placed the knife on the counter to your left and gaped at Spiderman as he stumbled inside your tiny and shitty apartment, a huge gash having split open his costume on his left leg. Your eyes widened as you looked at it for a second longer, making Yunho look down. He hummed before he grabbed his mask, and pulled it off his head.

You gulped as your eyes widened, taken aback by Yunho’s sullen cheeks, his round and lively eyes now void of emotion and the light they always carried. There were dark bags under his eyes, and his lips were chapped and paler than usual. Something was wrong, and just as you thought that Yunho crumbled, falling forward. You gasped as you jumped to catch him, his body heavy and sturdy as it fell into yours, his weight crushing you, but you remained standing and holding him up. Yunho shuddered against your body and pressed his face into your neck. He was cold against you and trembling, his breath hot on your flushed skin. It felt surreal that you were holding Yunho in your arms, and you felt bad for tightening your arms around him when he groaned.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, smoothing out his matted hair.

“I shouldn’t have come,” Yunho whispered back as guilt laced his voice, and you grimaced as you tried to make him stand up.

“You should sit down, you’re injured.” You said as Yunho nodded, following your lead as you walked him to your couch, “What happened? I heard the sirens not far from here.”

“Armed robbery,” Yunho muttered, carefully sitting down on your couch, groaning when he shifted the weight off his left hip, “But it got bad pretty fast, I didn’t mean to come here, I just…I couldn’t see which way I was swinging, I’m sorry—”

“It’s alright, Yunho.” You tried to give him a soft smile as you found yourself reaching out to cradle his cheek. Yunho’s eyes closed as he hummed, melting into your touch as he grabbed your wrist. It was at that moment you realized Yunho looked terrible. He looked like he wasn’t eating nor sleeping enough, his skin greyish and his muscles less strong than they had been the last time you had seen him from so close. Your heart broke all over again as you stared into his tired-looking eyes, his gulp loud. It made you realise that he was injured, that you should be doing something instead of sitting here and staring at him, “We should go to the hospital, you look rough.”

“I’m fine, just give me a second,” Yunho muttered, his voice hoarse as he closed his eyes, head falling back against the back of the couch. You stood up and quickly walked to the sink to grab a glass of water. Yunho’s eyes snapped open when he heard you move away, and he twisted his torso around to look at you. His gaze felt intense, insistent almost as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he wasn’t watching you. You walked back with the glass of water and Yunho took it almost greedily, gulping it down in no second. You remained standing by the couch, not knowing what to do next as you two stared at each other. It’s been too long, and yet now that he was in front of you, it felt like it had happened yesterday. It was jarring, so much time had passed yet not enough to forget him. You doubted there’d be enough time to forget Yunho, though.

“You look…tired.” You broke the silence, your eyebrows furrowing as Yunho chuckled, his eyes half-closed as he hummed. You realised he was bleeding out onto your couch, but you couldn’t care less.

“I haven’t slept in almost three days,” Yunho explained, trying to run a hand through his hair. He gulped as he looked at you, his eyes shaking with an emotion you couldn’t read.

“Do you normally go this long without sleep?” You asked unsurely. It’s been a year and a half, you had no idea if Yunho was still the same old Yunho you had known, or if he had changed. People were bound to change, though, so you really had no idea if this Yunho in front of you was the same Yunho you loved so much.

“No,” Yunho chuckled, opening his round eyes to look at you with a sad smile, “I haven’t been able to sleep since you left.”

Your stomach coiled as you felt guilty, casting your eyes down as you couldn’t reciprocate Yunho's intense gaze anymore. You scratched at your arm as you chewed on your bottom lip, “You knew where I live.”

“Yeah,” Yunho nodded, something unspoken in his expression, “Are you moving again?”

Again, he said. So, he knew. Yunho had kept tabs on you, he knew where you were and what you were doing this past year and a half. You couldn’t even feel angry or disappointed. You just felt resigned as you stepped up to him again, bending down as you grabbed his waist.

“Let me take care of your wound, please.” You said instead of answering his question because wherever you were going this time, he would not follow you. Your heart lurched at that thought, uncomfortable and frightening. Yunho stood with struggle, his arms flying around your shoulders when his legs almost gave out underneath him. You gasped as you held him tighter, realising a beat later that you were embracing. You felt tears spring into your eyes as your fingers dug into his suit and skin, arms tightening around his torso as you buried your face into the crook of his neck. Yunho shuddered and held you tighter too, pressing kisses into the crown of your head and making you cry quietly.

“I’ve missed you.” You whispered even if you shouldn’t have. You were a hypocrite for saying that after you had left him, after you decided to break up a lovely relationship without discussing it first with Yunho. Yunho nodded as you closed your eyes, revelling in the warmth of his familiar body. He was thinner, but his embrace still felt the same old. You were safe here, loved, cherished, protected. Yunho’s skin wasn’t as cold anymore as it had been, and he stopped trembling too. He smelt of blood and musk, but you didn’t care, you were glad he was in one piece and still breathing. But his wound had been neglected for too long, so you tried to pull back when Yunho whined, pressing your head back into his skin as he whispered in your ear.

“Wait, don't pull away...” Your heart lurched again, and you nodded without realizing what you were doing, “Not yet.”

“Okay.” You said, melting into his warm and loving arms. Yunho’s head hung low as his cheek brushed against yours, and you weren’t surprised to find your hearts beating a steady rhythm, at peace now that you had finally found each other again.

“You’re leaving, right?” Yunho whispered and your lips quivered as you pulled back, finding Yunho’s gaze.

“I have to.” Yunho sniffed as he leaned down, lips hovering over yours as you tipped your head back.

“I love you.”

This time, you said it back, “I love you too, Yunho.”

Your lips sealed in a promise that this wasn’t the last time you’d meet, that it wasn’t the last time Yunho would hold you in his arms, that it wasn’t the last time you’d kiss, that it wasn’t the last time he should come to you if Spiderman was exhausted, that it wasn’t the last time you’d patch him up and welcome him with open arms.

Spiderman was the city’s superhero, but Jeong Yunho was your one and only love.

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[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ i left my keys on your bedroom floor | miya atsumu

wc: 2.4k

summary: atsumu is the clumsiest guy you've ever met; nothing ever goes to plan, especially when it comes to love. 

contains: f!reader, use of ‘misus’, mostly fluff with a bit of misunderstanding, reader wears heels, some swears, atsumu thinks he’s going to have a heart attack but it’s just him being him, atsumu is an idiot in love 

a/n: not related to the plot, but take a chance with me and fearless remind me of atsumu’s feels in this one (and paper rings will forever be an atsumu song for me)

part of how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab by augustinewrites & seiwas)

Atsumu thinks this is the dumbest fuck-up he could have ever fucked up. 

Wood isn’t supposed to feel this cold, but his leg is freezing rested against it. 

Is this what it means to be weak in the knees?

Out of all places, of all times, Miya Atsumu finds himself knelt down on one knee by your bedside, legs feeling like jello at his attempt to look under your bed for his apartment keys. 

This wouldn’t be a problem at all, really; he kneels down all the time—for lunges during training (the bane of his existence if you ask him), for helping his Ma plant those herbs he’s sure she does for Osamu (he hates how the soil sticks to his skin), and for buckling the straps on your heels even, when you need him to (he doesn’t like it, only because he prefers you much more comfortable in softer shoes, unchafed ankles and all). 

So, kneeling isn’t really that big of a deal for Atsumu—

—but you’re there, standing by the bathroom door, staring at him with overwhelming surprise, evidently anticipating something serious enough to bring tears to your eyes. 

This is wrong. It isn’t at all what you’re thinking—he was just looking for his keys. 

“‘Tsum…” you choke out, mouth partially covered by your shaky hand. 

Fuck, if this isn’t the worst way he could possibly do this. 

He’s sure his eyes are wide, brows furrowed by a mixture of worry and regret. 

“Wait,” he holds two hands up, slowly coming to a stand, “S’not what ya think.” 

This is seriously the dumbest way he could fuck this up. 

The expression on your face drops, warmth rushing to your cheeks. If Atsumu could describe how you look, he’d call it worse than heartbreak—the horror in your eyes flashing embarrassment and the creases between your brows screaming rejection; what once were lifted cheeks have now sunk, turning into an undeniable frown. 

There are tears threatening to spill from your lash line, for a different reason now, he thinks, and it’s all his fault—it makes his heart break that he’s the sole culprit. 

And the sick thing is, despite all this, he still finds you the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, backlit by a halo of fluorescent white that he’s tempted to drop everything he originally planned just to do it right now. 

“O-oh,” you mumble, “sorry, I just thought–” you close your eyes, taking a deep breath, “nevermind, that was stupid of me, Tsum.”

When you open your eyes, a single tear falls, and he tries not to comment on how you wipe it quickly, feigning a smile as you walk past him, mumbling something about making breakfast and preparing his lunch for when he heads out.

And, well, he feels shitty, that’s for sure. One, for making you cry, and two, for even making you think, just for a second, that he doesn’t want to marry you. 

It wasn’t stupid of you to assume he was proposing at all. He’s hinted at it enough in the past few years, calling you ‘the misus’ enough times when mentioning why he’s heading home early from post-game dinners and parties. His Ma keeps a photo of you and him in his childhood home, and Osamu’s given you a family discount at Onigiri Miya now, too (which is only 1% higher than the friends one, but it’s the fact that he considers you as family that makes it feel much larger). 

He likes coming home to you, likes that you don’t force him to do anything. That if he chooses to stay out, it’s all fine by you—he’s just stopped looking for that kind of life anymore; it’s a lot more fun getting to cuddle up on the couch with you. 

His legs still tingle, and he crouches down again with a big sigh. The silver key is there, glistening from the light directed from his phone, and he reaches to grab it, fishing for the metal that, if he’s being quite honest, hasn’t fully served its purpose in the past three years anyway. 

Four years together, and Atsumu has lived with you for most of them. The only reason you still have separate places by name is because of the apartment he owns in Osaka, meant for training season and game days. 

Other than that, home has always been your place. 

And lately, he’s been thinking of moving somewhere where home can now officially be both of yours—it’s the whole reason he was looking for his keys in the first place, with property managers and realtors coming in to assess the space. 

The new place—he’s hoping for it to be somewhere in the middle of both you and him, maybe a bit bigger, who knows? He was planning to ask you about it after the proposal—the one he’s planned and has been trying so hard to keep a secret from you. 

It’s a miracle he’s managed to keep it this hush so far. He’s got the ring, the venue, the speech, and has even asked Osamu to take the video (even though he knows he’ll never let him live down every jitter and stutter he’s bound to make). And the date, the oh-so-important Valentine’s day that you’ll both remember forever. 

The living room is awfully quiet when he steps into it, no sign of you and your usual humming to whatever song’s been stuck in your head. He walks to the kitchen counter, eyeing a plate of eggs with a bit of fried rice; you packed his lunch, just like you always have—fatty tuna with some rice and vegetables on the side.

Atsumu thinks he could cry, his upper lip already trembling as he stares at the piece of paper in front of him. 

Written in your delicate handwriting is a short note: ‘grabbing some grocery, be back later.’ signed with nothing—no ‘love you’, no ‘see you later’, no x’s and o’s. Just nothing. It sucks even more because the grocery is your place, your one escape when he’s upset you enough that you can’t even look at him. 

Yet, you still made him breakfast, and you still packed his lunch—that’s the only thing giving him hope that he hasn’t fully fucked this up. 

.

“Samu, I think am g’na die.” 

The scenery beside him whizzes past quickly, creating a blur of blue, green, and white. His head leans against the window, and he adjusts an earbud, increasing the volume to hear the call better. 

Osamu sighs on the other end, the sound of clinking pans and crinkling plastic muffled in the background. 

“Y’said that t’Ma the last time, what’s it now?” 

Atsumu groans, the memory still fresh in his mind; when he called his Ma a little over three years ago, he was a stuttering mess, breath unsteady and voice shaky at 1:00 a.m. The pounding in his chest would not stop, he thought for sure he was going to have a heart attack. 

His Ma diagnosed him all right, called it a serious case of ‘in love with you’—because, when he recounted everything he could have done to cause any potential uptick of his heart rate, all he could talk about was you. How you held his hand and laughed at his jokes, called him handsome even when he was sweaty and gross; how you nursed him to health even though he was probably stinky and dehydrated from an insane diarrhea episode. 

All these years later, and he’s even more in love with you. 

“I fucked it up, ‘Samu. The plan ‘n everythin’? Poof.” he gestures with his hands, even though he knows audio call doesn’t allow him to be seen. “Dunnow if there’ll even be ‘nyone t’propose to.” 

Then, he tells Osamu everything—the search for his keys, kneeling on the floor, the mistaken proposal but how he would have done it there, how he wanted to but didn’t because he actually managed to plan something and didn’t want to throw it away.

But then he said it all wrong, then you cried, and he really did mess it up; he wasn’t even able to say goodbye. He’s miss-called you thrice and you’ve only replied with ‘can’t talk right now.’ (which he knows is suggested text because you always say ‘later, baby.’ or something else more time-efficient). 

“Ya dumbass,” Osamu sighs again, words still sharp but tone a bit more rounded, “just give it time, ‘n stop catastrophizin’. Y’ve put y’self in stupider situations ‘n hav always made it somehow.” 

Atsumu feels like crying, again, but Osamu’s always right. He lets out a tear or two, maybe a sob for another five minutes, and when he recovers into small sniffles, Osamu tells him to get some sleep to clear his head—he’s holding the line in Onigiri Miya during peak time. 

.

His Osaka apartment feels even emptier than usual even though it shouldn’t be all that different. Meetings with realtors and property managers finished an hour ago and all they need is the go signal from him before they put the property up for lease. 

He was supposed to stay here until the end of the week, to meet with PR for sponsorship deals and brand campaigns throughout the year. But, the only (non-suggested) text he received from you today was an indication that you were home and heading in early for bed (which, he knows is a lie, because a new episode of your favorite show is airing tonight and there’s no way you’re missing it after last week’s cliffhanger). 

And he can’t, just can’t, leave you thinking that he doesn’t want to marry you. 

So he decides, fuck it, and packs it up—books a last minute train ticket back to you and hopes to god that he gets the words right this time. 

. 

He’s never been this nervous in his life. 

The olympics is a close runner-up, but nothing compares to this, standing outside your door with his finger hovering over the doorbell. It’s funny, because he has your keys, knows your passcode too—but it feels wrong entering your space without the assurance that you still want him to. 

What makes him ring the bell is the sickening twist in his stomach that warns him: this fuck-up could make him lose you.

So he presses it once, then twice for good measure, and before he can do it thrice, you’re opening the door, in sweatpants and a hoodie (his hoodie) as you rub the puffiness out of your eyes. 

You’re beautiful like this, too, he thinks—dressed in his clothes, staring at him with those eyes, standing in front of him and looking like the rest of his life. 

“Please don’t break up wit’ me.” 

The words stumble out of him freely, with barely any time for him to process it. Atsumu feels each pounding in his chest and knows now, just as his Ma said, that it’s all the love he has yet to let out.

“I–” he begins, hesitating. He’s still wearing the same joggers and bomber jacket from this morning.

His hands clench into fists and he pushes them in his pockets, unsure what to do with them; the bottom of his lip trembles and it’s starting to make sense why people tell him and Osamu apart by ‘the one who always cries’. 

“T-this mornin’,” he looks up to find you leaning against your door, listening, “Was lookin’ ‘round cos I left mah keys on y’r bedroom floor.” 

You nod, tilting your head to urge him on. 

“And I was kneelin’,” he breathes out, “and y’thought it was somethin’ else, but I said it wasn’t. And I shouldn’t ‘av ‘cos it came out all wrong and it wasn’t what I planned. Then ya cried but still made me breakfast ‘n lunch and it was good, just like everythin’ ya make is. But ya went to the grocery, and baby,” he chokes up, tears falling, “‘m sorry. S’not what I meant. Please don’t break up wit’ me.” 

Atsumu is a bumbling, stumbling, stuttering mess as he cries in front of you, his incoherent rambling a jumble of all his mixed-up feelings. He’s sure he looks dumb as hell right now, a fully grown man in tears at your door—but your brows furrow in concern, jaw tightening as the pout on your lips deepens. Then, you take a step closer, arms stretched out to pull him into your shoulder for a hug. 

This is why Atsumu loves you—

This is why Atsumu has never been more sure of the future he wants. 

—because, even when he’s fucked things up and has made an absolute mess of himself, you’re always there, picking him right back up. 

“T’sokay Tsum,” you hush, rubbing circles on his back, “there’s no need to explain.” 

He sniffles, tucking his face against your neck. It’s impossible to miss the sadness underlying your comfort. 

You’re wrong—it’s not okay, and he absolutely has to explain. 

After he’s calmed down and the tears have subsided, he pulls away, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and apologizing for all the snot he left on your hoodie. 

You look confused and a little bit surprised as he takes a step back away from you, his hand immediately reaching inside the pocket of his joggers. 

“Y’know I can’t keep anythin’ from ya, right, baby?” he flashes you a small smile, a little nervous. 

You nod, because it’s true. Not a single birthday or celebration has ever surprised you because Atsumu’s always ruined it; he just can’t keep a secret from you. Either that, or things just never go accordingly. 

“Well, I kept this one real good. Planned it ‘n all. Had everythin’ set.”

The velvet box in his pocket is smooth to the touch, his fingers turning it over. It feels tangible and real now, a moment’s away from his life being changed, forever. 

He feels like crying again. 

“Was g’na do it on Valentine’s, ‘cos I had it all rehearsed ‘n shit.” 

Realization dawns on your face, eyes wide and your chest caught on hold—as if you’re expecting the wrong assumption again. 

But when Atsumu gets down on one knee, reaching from his pocket to present to you a ring hidden in red velvet, his fingers tremble when he says, “Know s’not Valentine’s, but can I be your forever Valentine?” 

You blink once, then the tears fall—the smile on your face is a little bit wobbly but an awful lot in love. You kneel on the floor with him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss.

The both of you are a tear-y mess on the floor, but when you part, he leans his forehead against yours, ring held up between his fingers as he asks just to be extra sure, “So… s’not a goodbye kiss is it?” 

You smack him on the chest before slipping in your finger. 

“S’a yes kiss, Tsum.”

thank you notes: @augustinewrites for suffering through this atsumu train with me & @soumies + @mysugu for helping me with tsumu characterisation and for listening to me ramble abt this fic!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[onlyangel4]

soft spot. damian priest.

damian priest x single mother!reader

synopsis: when you, a single mom join the smackdown roster, you are ready to fight both for your career and your child. damian priest isn’t known for his warmth, but the moment your kid starts following him around backstage, something in him shifts. he didn’t mean to care. he didn’t mean to fall.

but some families find you when you least expect it.

faceclaim: jenna dewan

wrestlingupdates

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 45,682 others

wrestlingupdates: y'all already know that i'm so excited. y/n y/ln has been drafted to smackdown and i can't wait to see what my favourite girl gets up to on the main roster.

view all 4,586 comments

user1: i am so excited for content of cleo causing chaos behind the scenes

user2: i have been a fan of y/n since she started in tna, twenty years later she is finally getting the recognition she deserves

user3: that's my girl

user4: OMG IT IS FINALLY happening

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you’d gotten used to new locker rooms.

ring lights changed, logos swapped out, but the feeling always stayed the same, a twist low in your stomach, like your body hadn’t caught up with your brain. you’d stood under banners that read impact, aew, nxt, and now, finally, the unmistakable blue and white of smackdown.

your daughter cleo clutched your hand tighter than usual, her fingers curled into your palm. she was six, impossibly curious and maddeningly fearless, until it came to loud arenas and unfamiliar faces. you knelt beside her in the hallway, brushing a curl away from her cheek.

"remember what we said?", you asked softly.

she nodded, eyes wide. "no running. no yelling. no getting suplexed."

you smiled despite the nerves. "good girl."

there were wrestlers moving past you, some familiar from nxt call-ups, others legends you'd only brushed shoulders with at cross-promotional events. a few gave you polite nods. a couple of the women smiled at cleo. no one stopped.

a pa pointed you toward your locker room. it was smaller than you expected but clean. functional. you dropped your duffel bag and helped cleo settle onto the little folding chair beside your things, handing her a snack and her tablet.

"stay here, okay? i’m going to go check the board and find my producer."

she pouted. "can’t i come?"

you hesitated. the hallway would be full of people. "five minutes. don’t move."

you didn’t like leaving her, but you didn’t have a choice. you didn't want to overwhelm her, or yourself

the rundown board wasn’t far. you scanned the paper tacked to the cork, finding your name buried in the second hour, promo segment. no match yet. safe start.

you turned back.

cleo was gone.

your heart slammed into your ribs.

you pivoted fast, eyes darting down the hallway, nothing. the crowd around the gorilla position blurred as your adrenaline surged. you took a step forward.

then froze.

there she was, about thirty feet down the corridor, standing in front of someone tall, imposing, and completely draped in black.

damian priest.

you recognized him instantly, taller in person, every inch the brooding solo act he’d become post the judgment day. hair slicked back, leather jacket gleaming under the fluorescents. he looked down at cleo, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

cleo pointed at his boots. "you look like a vampire."

for a split second, you thought he’d ignore her.

then his mouth twitched. just barely. "maybe i am."

you moved quickly, heart still pounding. "cleo", you said, a bit more sharply than you meant to. she turned, grinning.

"mom! he’s huge."

"i see that", you breathed, placing a hand on her shoulder. you looked up at damian. "sorry. she tends to wander when i blink."

he looked at you then. something passed through his expression. not judgment. not even amusement.

recognition.

"it’s fine", he said simply. his voice was low, calm. "she’s not bothering me."

you blinked. "still, i should’ve... thank you."

he nodded once, then walked past you both, disappearing down the hall without another word.

cleo tugged at your hand. "he’s cool."

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. "yeah", you murmured. "he really is."

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y/ninsta posted a story

written: if anyone is wondering why i showed up last night wearing a dress it was because miss cleo needed us to match

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the second week felt less like walking into a storm and more like stepping into a tide you were starting to understand.

no one looked twice when you passed catering this time. a few nodded. bayley threw you a quick wink. you didn’t stop. you had your gear bag slung over one shoulder and just enough caffeine in your system to fake confidence if needed.

cleo was safe. that mattered most.

she’d cried a little when you dropped her off with the wwe childcare team, new toys, kind staff, still too many strangers. but she was in good hands. better than last week, where she’d nearly walked into the lions den.

speaking of…

you rounded a corner and nearly walked straight into him.

he caught the strap of your bag before it could slide off your shoulder, steadying it like it was nothing. like you were nothing to worry about either.

"hey", he said.

you blinked up at him. "hi. sorry. i didn’t see you."

he let go of the strap and leaned back against the wall, arms folded. Same as last week. dark clothes, focused expression. less intimidating now, but only just.

"no cleo today?" he asked.

you raised an eyebrow. "you remembered her name."

he shrugged. "she made an impression."

you gave a short laugh. "yeah, she tends to do that. She’s with childcare this week. probably convincing someone to let her run a match or eat five granola bars in a row."

a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. it was quick. almost shy.

"you okay with that?" he asked.

the question caught you off guard. not how’s your kid, but how are you handling this?

you hesitated. "i guess i have to be."

he nodded, not pressing. just listening.

you sighed. "she’s great. adjusting fast, better than me half the time. but i still feel like i’ve got one foot in the ring and the other one stuck in a daycare cubby. not exactly the image you want when you're trying to prove yourself."

he tilted his head. "image doesn’t win matches. hunger does."

you looked at him. he said it like he’d lived it. like he still was.

"you always talk like that?", you asked, half a tease.

he smirked. "only when i mean it."

you paused, then leaned next to him against the wall. not touching. just closer.

"you’ve been on top of this brand for months", you said. "so what are you still hungry for?"

for a moment, you weren’t sure he was going to answer. his gaze drifted to a production cart nearby, like something just offstage had taken root in his head.

"quiet", he said finally. "something real."

you turned to him, brows furrowed.

"wrestling’s loud", he added. "noise. hype. people cheering for who they think you are. i like when someone sees through that."

you weren’t sure what to say. but the silence between you didn’t feel awkward.

it felt safe.

you watched as he pushed off the wall, giving you one last look before heading down the corridor.

"tell cleo i said hi", he said, voice quieter now.

you nodded. "i will."

and for the first time since your call-up, you didn’t feel like you were walking into the spotlight alone.

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the hotel room was small, but clean. two beds, dim lamplight, the low hum of some animated show playing on the tablet.

cleo sat cross-legged on the comforter, still wearing the glittery blue hoodie you’d packed for her in case she got cold. she had a juice box in one hand and was absently brushing her doll’s hair with the other.

you sat at the edge of the opposite bed, unlacing your boots one slow loop at a time. your body ached in all the familiar ways, tight knees, stiff shoulders but your heart that was quieter tonight.

cleo looked up suddenly. "mommy?"

"hmm?"

"did you see my friend at work today?"

you froze.

you didn’t need to ask who she meant. there was only one person she’d fixated on enough to give that title to. not rey mysterio, not liv, not even charlotte. damian.

you swallowed a smile. "i did, yeah."

her eyes lit up. "what was he doing?"

"standing around looking serious. you know. like always"

she giggled. "he’s so big. but he doesn’t scare me."

"i noticed."

you crossed the room and knelt next to her bed, brushing the juice-sticky hair back from her forehead. she yawned, blinked slowly.

"he asked about you", you said softly.

her whole face lit up. "he did?!"

"hhm. said to tell you hi."

She tucked her doll under the blanket like it was the most important thing in the world, then looked up at you with sleepy seriousness. "he’s nice. he seems a little sad though"

you paused.

"yeah", you murmured. "he kind of does."

"maybe he needs a hug."

your throat tightened unexpectedly.

you kissed her forehead. "you’re something else, kiddo."

she grinned, proud.

a few minutes later, she was asleep, small limbs curled, hair sticking out in every direction. you turned off the lamp, sat in the dark for a long time, scrolling through match footage on your phone.

but your mind wasn’t on wristlocks or crowd reactions.

it was on a man with shadows behind his smile, and the way your daughter had looked at him like she already knew he was safe.

you weren’t sure what was happening yet.

but it was starting to feel like more than just coincidence.

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damian wasn’t sure what made him do it.

one second he was walking past the crew hallway, the next he was crouched in front of a wide-eyed little girl in sparkly sneakers and a ponytail, whispering: "want to see your mom’s match?"

cleo didn’t hesitate. she just grinned and nodded like it was the best idea anyone had ever had.

it probably wasn’t.

he knew talent weren’t supposed to pull kids from daycare mid-show. knew security would ask questions if they spotted him dragging a six-year-old through the maze of cables and crates near gorilla. but when cleo slipped her small hand into his without a second thought, it was already done.

now she sat beside him in a folding chair behind the curtain, her legs swinging, her eyes locked on the monitor.

"is this where she comes out?" she whispered.

he nodded. "any second now."

cleo squirmed with excitement, holding a small bag of dinosaur-shaped gummies, he'd grabbed them from his own stash. he told himself it was just a kindness. something small. nothing more.

but then your music hit.

and cleo lit up like the fourth of july.

"there she is!" she squealed, pointing at the screen. "that’s my mommy!"

damian smiled, small, private. he watched as you stepped into the light for the first time under that enormous main roster stage.

no nerves on your face. just fire.

and something else. something determined.

he didn’t realize he’d stopped breathing until cleo tugged his sleeve. "she’s gonna win, right?"

he nodded. "i’d bet on it."

and when your match started, he didn’t look away once.

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you didn’t have time to be nervous. this week was your first real match on smackdown, it was even more daunting considering seasoned pro naomi was your competition.

your music was already queued. your wrists were taped. the production team was shouting cues and pushing talent past you toward Gorilla.

it wasn’t your first match, not by a long shot. you’d bled under different banners, fought in cages, flipped off balconies. but this one felt heavier. brighter. more visible. it was the first time under the big lights with wwe’s main roster eyes all on you.

your heart pounded like a drumline in your chest. not from fear.

just pressure.

you glanced toward the tunnel, looking for someone, anyone familiar but the spot was crowded. and cleo she was supposed to be far from here, in childcare on the other side of the building.

at least she was safe. that was all that mattered.

you rolled your shoulders, focused forward.

then the match producer tapped you. "you’re up. good luck."

you exhaled and stepped into the curtain.

and the crowd roared.

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you didn’t hear everything after that.

the match moved in flashes. you remembered the pop when your name was announced. the sound of boots on canvas. the thud of your finisher landing clean. the heat from the lights. the way you breathed harder than usual, not from cardio, but from emotion that had no place in the ring but showed up anyway.

and then, three slaps on the mat.

your theme hit.

you’d won.

just like that.

you stood in the centre of the ring, arm raised, chest heaving, and scanned the crowd almost by instinct. you didn’t know what you were looking for

until you saw them.

tucked behind the timekeeper’s area, down low by the barricade where the cameras wouldn’t catch them unless they looked hard

cleo.

perched on someone’s lap, wearing her sparkly hoodie, waving both hands in the air like she was trying to call down lightning.

and behind her?

damian.

hat pulled low, hoodie up, clearly trying not to draw attention. but his eyes were unmistakable. focused entirely on you.

he gave you a slow, subtle nod.

not for the cameras. not for the roster.

for you.

you almost missed your cue to leave the ring.

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later, when the show wrapped and the adrenaline faded, you found them both in the hallway near your locker room. cleo ran toward you the second she spotted you, arms outstretched.

"you did it!" she yelled. "you beat her so fast! and you flipped! and he let me sit in the chair with the headphones but i didn’t touch anything!"

you caught her in your arms, burying your face in her hair. "wait, what?"

cleo turned and pointed dramatically at damian. "he broke me out! like a ninja!"

you stared at him.

he looked almost guilty. almost.

"before you get mad", he said, hands up in mock surrender, "she asked nicely."

you just looked at him, speechless for a beat. "you snuck her out."

"she missed you", he said softly. "and i thought she’d want to see you win."

your heart stuttered.

and then melted.

You looked down at cleo. "did you have fun?"

"best day ever."

you looked back up at him. "you know this means she’s going to ask for this every week, right?"

he smirked. "guess i'll have to start showing up early."

you didn’t say anything else. you couldn’t, really, not with your throat tightening the way it was. so instead, you smiled.

a real one.

and somewhere inside you, something warm and dangerous started to settle in.

because this? this was starting to feel like something you might not want to walk away from.

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the hotel room was dark, save for the faint blue glow of the tv. some mindless rerun played without sound, but he wasn’t watching.

damian sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped between his knees, still half in his gear. he hadn’t bothered to take off his boots. Just the hoodie. the adrenaline had worn off hours ago, but something else hadn’t.

he could still hear her laugh. the kid.

cleo.

she’d sat on his lap like it was nothing. like she’d known him forever. no hesitation. no fear. she’d asked him how he got his hair so shiny and whether or not he’d ever wrestled a dinosaur. she’d called the match like a pint-sized commentator, whisper-shouting into the headset when her mom hit the finisher.

and when the match ended, she’d clapped so hard he thought she might break her hands.

damian hadn’t smiled like that in a long time.

he’d told himself it was just a gesture. something nice. a favor. maybe a small rebellion against the usual rules.

but that wasn’t true.

the truth was he wanted to see you win.

not just the match.

he wanted to see you find your place here. to be seen, the way you deserved to be, not just as "new call-up" or "former AEW star" or "the one with the kid." he’d watched the roster underestimate you for weeks. he knew the look. he’d lived it himself when he started.

but tonight, they couldn’t deny you.

not after that pop.

not after that finish.

and watching you walk up the ramp, shoulders squared, chin high, eyes scanning the crowd he’d felt something settle low in his chest. not nerves. not pride.

something quieter.

more dangerous.

damian sighed and leaned back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

this wasn’t just about admiration anymore.

it was becoming personal.

and that scared him more than he wanted to admit.

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you didn’t sleep deeply that night.

cleo curled into your side, one small foot lodged beneath your ribs. the hotel ac rattled faintly, and your back still ached from the match. But that wasn’t what kept you up.

it was him.

damian.

you kept replaying the moment you saw them down by the barricade. the way he’d looked at you, silent but so present. no big gesture. no smirk. just solid. like someone you could fall into and not hit the ground.

it was a ridiculous thought.

this business didn’t allow softness. or time. or relationships that lasted longer than the next tour loop.

but then there was cleo, asleep beside you, mumbling his name in her dreams.

you weren’t sure what was happening.

but it felt like the kind of thing that didn’t stop easily once it started.

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wwe posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: y/n has arrived ahead of her first ple, the elimination chamber where she has a tag match with tiffany stratton against nia jax and candace larae

wwe posted a story tagging archerofinfamy and rhearipley_wwe

written: the terror twins have been reunited for the first time since damian priest left raw during the transfer window

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finally being back with damian rhea felt like she had missed a whole season of damian's life.

she noticed it before she even made it to catering.

damian, leaning against a stack of production crates, arms crossed, pretending to scroll his phone.

you, sitting cross-legged on the floor with cleo in front of you, helping her colour a foam championship belt from the merch table like it was the most serious thing in the world.

cleo asked something. you smiled, laughed, pushed her curls out of her face.

and damian?

that man didn’t so much as blink, but everything in his posture said, locked in.

rhea smirked.

she detoured straight toward him.

"let me guess", she said, stopping beside him. "you're just coincidentally standing here. middle of traffic. next to this specific hallway."

damian didn’t look up. "it’s not like that."

"right", rhea drawled. "it’s not like anything. you just ‘happened’ to wander near the girl you’ve been brooding over for the last three shows while her kid paints glitter on a fake belt."

he glanced over. "you done?"

"nope." she leaned on the crate beside him, arms folded. "she’s cool. you like her. cleo loves you. you’re literally the only person on this brand that kid listens to. this whole soft-parent-energy thing is actually very cute. so what’s the holdup?"

damian exhaled, jaw flexing. "it’s not that simple."

rhea tilted her head. "why not?"

"because she’s new. and talented. and already has enough to prove without everyone whispering that she’s sleeping her way up the roster. because she’s got a kid and i’m..."

he stopped. didn’t finish.

rhea watched him for a moment, the edge softening slightly in her expression. "because you’re scared."

he didn’t deny it.

"look", she said, voice quieter, "i'm not saying get down on one knee and propose tomorrow. but you’re already halfway in. the kid adores you. she clearly feels something. you showing up? that means something."

he shook his head slightly. "i don’t want to mess it up."

"then don’t." she nudged his shoulder. "tell her. before someone else does."

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later that evening, following the elimination chamber cleo had passed out on a row of production cases, mouth slightly open, marker still clutched in her fist.

you were half-watching the monitor rewatching your match, the rest of your brain stuck in that foggy space between exhaustion and gratitude.

and then damian sat down next to you.

quiet. no preamble. close enough to feel the warmth of him but not enough to press.

"hey", you said.

"hey."

you both watched the screen for a beat.

then, without looking at you, he asked, voice low "if i said i wanted to take you out sometime what would you say?"

you blinked. looked at him, really looked.

"i’d say" you paused, smiling softly, "it’s about time."

and for the first time since you’d met him

he smiled back.

fully.

openly.

like something had finally been decided.

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one week into dating damian

cleo had a habit of crawling out of bed before you and wandering straight into whatever hotel room was across the hall, usually damian’s.

one morning you woke to an empty bed, slipped on your hoodie, and crossed the hall barefoot, fully ready to scold her.

but when you pushed open his door, you froze.

there she was, knees tucked under her, balancing on the edge of his bed with a tablet in hand, while damian sat beside her cross-legged, head tilted, listening intently.

"okay", cleo said, very seriously, "this one’s a therizinosaurus" , her pronunciation of the word was terribly wrong but utterly adorable. "it had really long claws and was a herbivore, but also terrifying."

damian nodded. "that’s actually a great name for a finisher."

you blinked. "are you guys naming moves after dinosaurs?"

he looked up. "only the deadliest ones."

cleo grinned. "we already picked one that is yours momma. wanna know what it’s called?"

you couldn’t say no.

and you didn’t want to.

archerofinfamy posted a story

written: tired on pretending dinosaurs aren't cool as hell

wwe posted a story tagging archerofinfamy

written: damian priest just debuted a terrifying new move that is calling the spinosaurus ddt

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three weeks into dating damian

you had a big match, one you wanted cleo to watch.

damian had been eager to be the one to watch her.

he sat at gorilla, watching you from behind the curtain. not in a possessive way. just proud. like watching the moment before lightning struck.

cleo stood beside him with a headset way too big for her head, shovelling gummy sweets into her mouth, free hand holding his wrist tape like it was treasure.

"do you think she’s nervous?" she whispered.

"no", he said, eyes still forward. "she’s ready."

he meant it. but he also meant: you always are. that’s who you are.

cleo giggled and held up the tape. "can i wear it?"

"only if you promise to cheer loud."

she nodded like it was a blood oath.

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a month into dating damian

cleo was sick.

nothing major, just a fever and exhaustion, but it hit hard after travel day, and she clung to you like gravity. you were supposed to wrestle that night, a solid match with a new push behind it.

but cleo had her arms locked around your neck, flushed and sweaty, and you’d already texted the producer your regrets.

then damian appeared in the doorway.

you started to tell him it was fine. that you had it under control. that you’d ordered Pedialyte and she’d be okay by morning.

he didn’t say anything.

just walked over, sat on the floor beside the bed, and held cleo’s tiny, fever-warm hand until she fell asleep.

later, after everything calmed down, you whispered, "thank you."

he shook his head. "you don’t have to do all of this alone."

and somehow, for the first time in years

you believed it.

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eight weeks into dating damian

you weren’t exactly hiding anymore.

people talked. rumors swirled. a few fans had caught on via glances, hallway sightings, or the time cleo accidentally called him "d" in front of a camera crew.

but you kept it quiet. protected.

not for shame, but for peace.

still, moments slipped through. you brushing glitter off his shoulder. him sneaking you cleo’s favourite snacks in catering. cleo climbing into his lap during a production meeting, chewing on a lanyard, and declaring him her "most bestest backup daddy."

he didn’t correct her.

not even once.

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two months dating damian

you didn’t mean to say it that night.

not in the way people usually plan for those moments. there was no candlelight. no big romantic speech. no music playing in the background. just the hum of the a/c, cleo’s quiet breathing from the second bed, and the weight of his arm draped across your stomach.

damian was half asleep beside you, still in joggers and a thermal shirt. the room smelled like takeout and travel-sized lotion. it was one of those rare nights where you had nowhere to be. just here.

just with him.

you rolled to your side slowly, brushing a piece of hair off his forehead. He looked peaceful like this. less guarded. younger, even.

he stirred at your touch, blinking at you.

"you okay?" he asked, voice low and rough.

you nodded. "yeah. just thinking."

"about what?"

you hesitated, then exhaled.

"how lucky i am", you said quietly. "to have this. to have you. to not be alone in it all anymore."

damian didn’t say anything at first. just brushed your wrist with his thumb, soft and steady.

then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you whispered it, barely above the buzz of the a/c.

"i love you."

silence.

and then

his hand stopped moving.

your breath caught.

he sat up slightly, his eyes finding yours in the dim light.

"you do?", he asked, not teasing. just stunned.

you nodded, nerves bubbling under your skin. "i didn’t mean to say it like that. not all weird and sleepy and-"

"i love you too."

he said it before you could spiral further. no hesitation. just warm certainty.

"i’ve been trying not to say it for weeks", he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "didn’t want to freak you out. or mess this up."

you laughed, quiet and shaking. "you could never."

damian leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, both of you breathing the same small space.

"i love you", he said again. "both of you. it’s not even a question anymore."

across the room, cleo turned in her sleep, murmuring something about "dinosaurs and pancakes."

you smiled.

this wasn’t flashy. it wasn’t loud.

but it was real.

and for the first time in years, love didn’t feel like something you had to fight for.

it just was.

y/ninsta

liked by archerofinfamy, beckylynchwwe, biancabelairwwe and 489,322 others

tagged: archerofinfamy

y/ninsta: just us. some snacks. a few late nights. cooking classes. & a man who carries stickers in his gear bag "just in case."

view all 18,283 comments

archerofinfamy: my girls

beckylynchwwe: i knew it. didn’t even need the detective hat. congrats mama

rhearipley_wwe: i’ve been WAITING. cleo’s the real star here tho, sorry not sorry

user5: the soft launch era is OVER. we are FEEDING

user6: damian "i destroy men for fun and braid toddler hair" priest??? iconic

user7: you went from indie darling to smackdown star to mom of the year with a hot wrestling boyfriend. living the dream fr.

[astroxrion]

Your Soulmate based on your 7th house sign :

Aries 7th House

Your soulmate is bold, direct, passionate. They challenge you, push you, never let you coast. You grow through tension and fire. They force you to stop people pleasing and start owning what you want. Their love feels like adrenaline and demands presence.

Taurus 7th House

Your soulmate is steady, sensual, grounded. They create safety without smothering you. Loyal to the bone but won't let you slack. They teach you to slow down and build. They crave peace but will fight for what's real. Their love looks like consistency not chaos.

Gemini 7th House

Your soulmate is sharp, quick, endlessly curious. They want conversation as foreplay and ideas as intimacy. They keep your mind turned on and your world moving. They'll test your logic and stretch your vision. Boredom dies in their presence. They keep you learning.

Cancer 7th House

Your soulmate is nurturing, soft but deeply loyal. They are home in human form. They remember the details no one else sees. You feel emotionally safe without losing your edge. They help you forgive yourself. Their love is warm meals, deep talks and emotional truth.

Leo 7th House

Your soulmate is magnetic, expressive and dramatic in the best way. They show you how to take up space and own your light. They'll want to be seen with you and celebrate you hard. Their love is public, proud, and impossible to miss. You rise together.

Leo 7th House

Your soulmate is magnetic, expressive, a natural light. They love you out loud and expect you to show up fully. They mirror your greatness back to you. They protect you with pride. Their presence forces you to stop hiding and own your brilliance without fear.

Virgo 7th House

Your soulmate is detail-oriented, devoted, and observant. They bring order where you spiral. Their love is in the little things they fix without asking. They hold you accountable with compassion. They see your mess and still choose you every day with precision.

Libra 7th House

Your soulmate is graceful, charming, emotionally intelligent. They bring balance to your chaos. They challenge you to grow without controlling you. Their love is soft power. They teach you that peace is not weakness but a strategy for real connection and success.

Scorpio 7th House

Your soulmate is intense, emotionally fearless, and transforming. They look at your shadows and do not blink. They pull the real you out from the depths. They crave truth not performance. Their love breaks you open and rebuilds you whole without apology.

Sagittarius 7th House

Your soulmate is wild-minded, open-hearted, and freedom-focused. They push you into new experiences. They will not cage you and will not be caged. They teach you to expand emotionally. Their love feels like a passport and a mirror at the same time.

Capricorn 7th House

Your soulmate is ambitious, reliable, and emotionally composed. They build with you not just love you. They plan your legacy while holding your hand. Their love is a structure you can lean on. They don't waste time. They're here to stay and elevate.

Aquarius 7th House

Your soulmate is unconventional, future-focused, mentally electric. They're not soft but they're loyal in their own way. They give you space but stay connected. Their love is different but real. They challenge you to see love as evolution not ownership.

Pisces 7th House

Your soulmate is intuitive, dreamy, emotionally rich. They feel like déjà vu and destiny in one body. They heal you without trying. Their love flows like art and prayer. They're soft but deep. They remind you that love is spirit choosing spirit.

Get an Astrology Reading With me : https://www.tumblr.com/astroxrion/784631769533136896/o-my-readings-the-rion-code-o?source=share

[theskywithin]

🌙 Excerpt from my Book: Rising Sign Chapter

( link at the bottom of the page )

You may not feel like your Rising Sign at first. But the world often sees it in you before you do. Over time, it becomes a sacred interface between your inner truth and your outer world. So let’s meet it together. Let’s meet you, the way the world first did.

Aries Rising

When I first met you, I thought you were bold, fearless, always charging ahead with no hesitation. You wore confidence like a second skin, as if the world was yours to conquer. It wasn’t just the way you walked, with purpose and undeniable presence, but the way you met life head-on, as if every challenge was just another battle to win. You had an electric energy, something raw and unfiltered, like you were always ready for the next adventure. But beneath that fiery exterior, I soon saw the vulnerability of someone who, despite their bravery, might feel a bit alone in their independence. You push forward so quickly, so fiercely, that sometimes it seems like you’re afraid to slow down. You have a warrior’s spirit, strong, direct, untamed, but even warriors long for a place where they can set their armor down. There’s a part of you that hopes someone will recognize that tenderness behind the fire, someone who will see you not just as a force of nature, but as a person who wants to be understood, just as deeply as they want to conquer the world.

Taurus Rising

When I first met you, I noticed your presence before anything else, steady, grounded, like an ancient oak that had seen countless seasons, and still stood unshaken. There was something calm about you, something reassuring, as if nothing could truly rattle your foundation. Your energy was composed, deliberate, with no need for haste. You moved through the world with a quiet confidence, carrying a sense of deep-rooted knowing, as if you understood that everything, in time, would come to you. But as I got closer, I saw that your steadiness was not just patience, it was protection. You don’t let just anyone in. You observe, you wait, you test the waters before allowing people past your walls. There’s a softness to you, hidden beneath the exterior of strength, a warmth that those lucky enough to earn your trust get to see. You value comfort, beauty, and stability, not out of indulgence, but because you know that life is meant to be savored. And though you may seem reserved at first, once you let someone into your world, they become part of something rare and unshakable, just like you.

Gemini Rising

When I first met you, I couldn’t help but notice how alive you were, how your eyes sparkled with curiosity, how your words danced effortlessly from one idea to the next. It was like talking to someone who had a thousand different stories, and a hunger for a thousand more. There was something playful about you, something light and electric, like you carried the wind inside you, always moving, always changing. Conversations with you felt like stepping into a whirlwind, exciting, unpredictable, never dull. But as I got to know you, I realized that your quicksilver mind was both a gift and a mask. You kept things moving so fast, that it was easy to miss the moments when you felt lost, uncertain, or overwhelmed. You are a chameleon, able to shift and adapt to any situation, yet beneath it all, I wondered, who sees the version of you that stays still? Who knows the thoughts you don’t say out loud? Your brilliance is undeniable, your charm is magnetic, but I hope you know that you don’t always have to entertain. You can just be, and you will still be just as captivating

Cancer Rising

When I first met you, I felt something familiar, something safe, like a quiet harbor in the middle of a storm. You had a way of making people feel seen, as if, without even trying, you understood them on a level they didn’t expect. There was a softness to you, a warmth that made it easy to let my guard down, as if you carried a secret knowledge of the human heart. But as I got closer, I noticed how carefully you moved through the world, not out of hesitation, but out of caution. You don’t open up to just anyone. You hold your heart like a precious thing, shielding it behind walls of observation. You feel deeply, even when you don’t say it out loud. And though you may seem reserved at first, those who earn your trust find a loyalty that runs deeper than any ocean. You love like a tide, protective, overwhelming, undeniable. And even when you try to hide it, the truth is, you care more than you’d ever let on.

Leo Rising

When I first met you, I felt like I had stepped into the orbit of a star, warm, shining, impossible to ignore. You carried yourself with a presence that turned heads, not just because of confidence, but because you seemed to belong wherever you stood. There was something regal about the way you spoke, as if every word mattered, as if the world itself was your audience. You didn’t just enter a room, you took up space in a way that made it feel fuller, brighter. But beyond the golden glow, I saw a heart that longed to be truly seen, not just admired. Your confidence was real, but so was the quiet need for validation, the hope that your light wasn’t just impressive, but deeply cherished. You give so much, warmth, energy, inspiration, but you also crave that in return, a love as grand and unwavering as the love you so freely offer. Beneath the dazzling presence, there is a softness, a deep sensitivity, a longing to be loved for who you are, not just the brilliance you project.

Virgo Rising

When I first met you, I was struck by your quiet composure, the way you seemed to notice everything without drawing attention to yourself. There was an understated elegance in the way you carried yourself, precise, thoughtful, as if every movement, every word, was carefully chosen. You weren’t one to demand the spotlight, but there was something compelling about you, a sharp intelligence that made me want to listen closer. But as I got to know you, I realized that behind that careful exterior was someone who held themselves to impossible standards. You were always aware, always thinking, always analyzing, as if trying to perfect every detail of your existence. There was a soft kindness in you, a desire to be useful, to make things better, yet I wondered, do you offer yourself the same grace you give to others? You are someone who sees the beauty in small things, who values substance over show. And while you may not always believe it, you don’t need to prove your worth, you already have it, simply by being you.

Libra Rising

When I first met you, I noticed your grace, not only in the way you moved, but in the way you made everyone around you feel at ease. You had a natural charm, an effortless ability to connect, as if you knew the secret to making people feel special. There was something refined about you, something polished, like someone who understood the art of presence. You had the rare gift of making interactions feel smooth, pleasant, as if conflict had no place in your world. But the more I watched, the more I saw that this gentleness came with a weight. You seemed to always be balancing, always adjusting, making sure no one was uncomfortable, even at your own expense. You wanted harmony, but sometimes that meant losing pieces of yourself in the process. And yet, when you do stand firm, when you stop trying to make everything beautiful and just let yourself be, you are magnetic in a way that goes far beyond charm. You are not just the reflection of others, you are your own light.

Scorpio Rising

When I first met you, I wasn’t sure if I had met you at all. There was something enigmatic about you, something impenetrable, as if you let people see only what you wanted them to. You didn’t rush to fill the silence, didn’t try to impress, you simply existed with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. You had presence, not in the loud, obvious way, but in the way of someone who carries something deeper than what they show. But beneath the mystery, I saw the depth of someone who feels everything, passion, pain, loyalty, all with a force most people can’t even imagine. You are not detached, not emotionless, if anything, you care too much, but you refuse to let just anyone see it. You are someone who tests, who watches, who needs to know who is truly worth your trust. And those who pass that test? They gain a protector, a confidant, a force unlike any other. Because when you finally let someone in, you do so completely, with a loyalty that never wavers.

Sagittarius Rising

When I first met you, I felt like I had stepped into motion, like you were always going somewhere, always reaching for the next adventure. There was an openness to you, a boundless energy, as if the world itself was your playground and every moment was an opportunity. You had a spark in your eyes, a kind of reckless optimism that made me wonder what it would be like to live as freely as you seemed to. But as I got to know you, I realized that freedom isn’t just your desire, it’s your need. You resist being contained, being defined, because you know that life is too vast to fit into one small version of yourself. You crave meaning, exploration, something beyond the ordinary, yet sometimes I wonder, what happens when you have to stand still? What happens when you have to face the quiet moments, when there’s nowhere left to run? You are brilliant, inspiring, endlessly curious, but even the greatest explorers need somewhere to call home.

Capricorn Rising

When I first met you, I knew you were someone who carried yourself with purpose. There was a seriousness to you, a quiet authority, as if you had already seen too much of the world to waste time on frivolous things. You didn’t rush to prove yourself, you didn’t have to. There was something in your presence that spoke of competence, control, of someone who knew where they were going. But beneath the composure, I saw the weight you carried, the silent expectation you place upon yourself to always be strong, always be responsible, always be the one others can rely on. You wear your strength like an armor, but I wonder, who takes care of you when you need it? You are driven, disciplined, and unstoppable, but I hope you know that your worth is not in what you achieve. Even the strongest foundations need moments of rest.

Aquarius Rising

When I first met you, I knew immediately that you were different, not in an obvious way, but in the way you seemed to move slightly outside the rhythm of the world. There was something unconventional about you, something unpredictable, as if you weren’t bound by the same rules as everyone else. You carried a quiet detachment, an air of curiosity, like someone observing life from the outside, trying to understand it without being completely part of it. But as I got closer, I saw that your distance wasn’t indifference, it was perspective. You see things differently, think differently, exist differently. You don’t conform because you can’t, you were never meant to. And yet, even as you walk your own path, there is a deep part of you that longs for connection, for people who truly understand you. You are smart, insightful, and wholly unique, but you don’t have to always stand apart to be seen.

Pisces Rising

When I first met you, I felt like I was looking through a veil, like you were here, but also somewhere else, caught between realities. There was a dreamlike quality to you, something fluid and hard to pin down, as if you moved through the world like water, absorbing everything around you. You had a softness, an openness, something ethereal, like someone who could slip through the cracks of reality and emerge in another world entirely. But as I got to know you, I realized that this fluidity is both your gift and your burden. You feel everything, absorb everything, sometimes to the point where it’s hard to tell where others end and you begin. You long for something beyond this world, yet you must find a way to exist within it. You are compassionate, intuitive, deeply connected to the unseen, but I hope you remember, you are real, too. And you deserve to be fully here, fully known, fully seen.

🌙 If this resonates, you might enjoy exploring your birth chart more deeply in my book (The Sky Within) , where I gently cover each detail in depth. You can find it here:

thank you for your support, it means the world to me, F.

[dailynnt]

𓂃 ⭒ ࣪ ˖ Visit my master list | date: 22.05 - 17.06. 2025

NO MERCY

Date: May 22, 2025

From enemies to lovers, mafia au, 18+ | mini series

≣ Index chapters

⟡ last update: PART II: The Hunter

⟡ Short description: You fled to Shanghai to regroup. He has tracked you down to have you again. In a game of shadows where sex is a weapon and betrayal is a strategy, the queen and her predator meet again. He's breaking down the door, you're holding the gun. But who is really in charge?

TWENTY MINUTES TO FREEDOM

Data: May 27, 2025

Established relationship, criminal au, Jungkook!prisoner, 18+ | one shot

⟡ Go to read ➜

⟡ Short description: Your boyfriend is in prison. But he knows you will come. His fearless, loyal to the point of madness woman. When you releases him, you and Jungkook hide in the security room, waiting for the car. But Jungkook doesn't wait - he can't. He really wants to show his girlfriend how much he missed you.

ONE NIGHT AS THE PRICE OF A REQUEST

Data: June 6, 2025

From enemies to lovers, neighbors, fake relationship, smut, 18+ | series

≣ Index chapters

⟡ last update: Chapter 17. Fate, which destined

⟡ Short description: Jungkook persuades you to don’t eave the deal. You agree, but on your own terms. Minimum physical contact and he has a month to fix everything that happened. You go to Jeju with Jungkook's friends and it becomes a real test for you. You and Jungkook are very cold, he ignores you, and you do the same. In order to feel good about yourself, you get closer to Namjoon, and Jungkook is terribly jealous. You fight and then make up. And the last day in Jeju becomes the day that will change your life and Jungkook's.

LOVE ME, EVEN IF I DON’T DESERVE IT

Data: June 17, 2025

Established relationship, toxic relationship, breakup, from ex to…lover? smut, 18+ | one shot

⟡ Go to read ➜

⟡ Short description: He didn’t believe in love. You wasn’t looking for a one-night stand. But sex became a trap. Feelings a mistake. Jungkook thought he could keep you, even when he kept disappearing whenever he wanted. You stayed, until got tired of waiting. And when you left — he finally understood what losing truly means. He wants you back. Not just your body — your heart. This is a story about passion, pain, and a second chance…

𓂃 ⭒ ࣪ ˖ © dailynnt 2025 · all my heart belongs here ❤️‍🔥