No title available
Sweet Seals For You, Always
šŖ¼
ā
š©µ avery cochrane š©µ
taylor price
almost home
Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
No title available
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
RMH
Kiana Khansmith
No title available
Cosmic Funnies
Cosimo Galluzzi
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Noah Kahan
Jules of Nature
Xuebing Du
Origami Around
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from Brazil
seen from Brazil
seen from Brazil
seen from Brazil
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@dustyblack
T H E ā V O I D
chasing magic in impossible worlds. life is heavy; imagination is the escape. ink on paper, stains on the void. welcome to the other side.
24 | trying to find myself in a world that doesnāt exist.
I write for the worlds i want to imagine myself into.
āāĖ. G U I D E L I N E S āāĖ.
Ł ą£Ŗā T H E į°. I N K į°. S T A I N S Ł ą£Ŗā {masterlist}
Wattpad | AO3
Ėāā§āŗĖ ššššššš šššššššššš š.šššššš Ėāŗā§āĖ
traps fairy!reader in a jar... now you're his greatest obsession.
šš°. nerdjo Ā· yandere themes Ā· experimentation ( not on reader ) Ā· creepy satoru Ā· oddly fluffy Ā· stockholm syndrome Ā· worship Ā· slight idolisation Ā· satoru's so whipped it's kinda cute
Ā š Ā· yandere researcher!nerdjo loved picking apart magical beings. figuring out how they work. how he could use their supernatural capabilities in alchemy and artifice trades alike. he's got magical body parts stuffed in jars and rowed on his shelves. from unicorn horns to vampire teeth, dragon eyes and goblin hands. but above all, he's been awed by the mythical, elusive fairy. he's got an entire taxidermy wall of butterfly wings in dedication to them.
Ā šĀ Ā Ā·Ā Ā yandereĀ researcher!nerdjo has been obsessed with fairies from a young age. from fairytales to frightening fascination, he's now driven himself mad trying to capture one. he'd honed all of his skills, yet still couldn't get his hands on oneā¦ until you came along.
Ā šĀ Ā Ā·Ā Ā yandereĀ researcher!nerdjo knew that he needed to have you the second he saw you. prancing around the flowers in his garden, pretty and as peaceful as you could be. you even gave him a little smile from your hiding spot. he pretended not to see you, even as his chest fluttered. but in his eyes? you were perfect.
Ā šĀ Ā Ā·Ā Ā yandereĀ researcher!nerdjo was surprised that the sweet treat on a mushroom top trick worked.
"well, aren't you the prettiest little thing?" he cooed on that fateful day he trapped your wing under his thumb. while you squirmed in the thick blades of grass.
his sharp grin loomed above you. watching you over the rim of his copper-framed glasses. and within his eyes, you saw something that terrified you.
hearts.
Ā šĀ Ā Ā·Ā Ā yandereĀ researcher!nerdjo perfectly prepared your jar. he cushioned the bottom with soil and moss. a slab of bark laid on side, with a network of flourishing, pink mushrooms growing along its length. a polished pebble for you to perch on, right beside the singular, blooming daisy where you could sleep. he wasn't a monster, after allā¦
Ā šĀ Ā Ā·Ā Ā yandereĀ researcher!nerdjo watched you with fascination as you tapped on the glass helplessly, your wings batting and your tears shimmery. so fairy dust was real.
"please."
your tiny hands smacked into the glass. peering up at the man as he sat at a table and chair. "please, why won't you let me go? I'll do anything."
he had scooped the jar into his hand, levelling you with those terrifying blues. "now, why would I let something so pretty go?" he crooked his head, snowy hair dangling to the side.
"i've waited for you for many years, sweetheart. don't be selfish."
Ā šĀ Ā Ā·Ā Ā yandereĀ researcher!nerdjo would give you everything you ever needed. food wasn't an issue, every day, he fed you something new. a juicy strawberry. honey and puffballs. mango slices. crackers. one time he even tried to hold you in his palm and feed you a small piece of vanilla cake.
you bit him.
he smiled.
"I suppose even pretty things can be feisty." his grip tightened on you, ever so slightly. a thumb brushing over your wings that fluttered erratically.
"let me go! you monster!" you squeaked.
he tutted, stroking his thumb over your back in a tender path. "sshhh, sweet thing. you'll bruise your little lungsā¦"
he continued the motion until your wreckless squirming melted. your head limped on his knuckle, your limbs still, and your head droopy.
he chuckled, carefully scooping you back into your jar. "thankfully, I've studied your kind extensively. I know you intimately, sweetheart."
Ā šĀ Ā Ā·Ā Ā yandereĀ researcher!nerdjo sometimes lets you out of the jar, but only when you have manners. he doesn't have to worry about you flying away, because he always so meticulously ties your wings with a silk ribbon.
"remain still for me, okay?" he hushed at you, kissing your head as you thrashed and shouted at him.
he even tied it into a pretty bow, before he set you atop one of his books.
"why do you do this?" you huffed, balling your little fists as you helplessly tried to flutter your wings. "how can you be so twisted to keep me here?"
satoru always spoke to you as if you were a flower. even lowering his head to be at eye level with you. lashes fluttering, almost droopy in the presence of your beauty.
"am I so twisted for being in love with you?"
the way your eyes gaped at him made him smile. he brought his pinkie to gently poke at your head. "what? am I?"
"you're insaneā¦" your murmur sounded frightened. fear looked pretty on you, too.
"maybe," his voice lowered to a whisper. "or maybe I'm just very dedicated to my work."
Ā šĀ Ā Ā·Ā Ā yandereĀ researcher!nerdjo made little tools out of silver to help fix your hair. he'd do the usual routine of scooping you out of the jar, tying your wings and sitting you on his palm, before he set to work on carefully helping you.
"I made these for you." he'd say affectionately.
and when you didn't respond, he blow a bit of air onto your wings until you squirmed and giggled.
Ā šĀ Ā Ā·Ā Ā yandereĀ researcher!nerdjo makes sure to let you have a little soak in one of his favourite teacups with some warm water. no, he doesn't peep at you. he's not a creep. a pretty little lady like yourself needs her privacy, after all.
Ā šĀ Ā Ā·Ā Ā yandereĀ researcher!nerdjo sometimes takes you out to dance you around the windowsill when the moon shines just right. he lets you hold onto his pinkies. twirls and dips you all night long. treating you as delicate as a flower as he watches you with awestruck eyes.
Ā šĀ Ā Ā·Ā Ā yandereĀ researcher!nerdjo brings you bundles of flowers to drink nectar from. he'll nudge your chin up so gently with his index nail and feed you himself. makes sure you don't choke.
Ā šĀ Ā Ā·Ā Ā yandereĀ researcher!nerdjo wraps you up in his glasses cloth when it gets too cold, or sometimes even scoops you into his pocket where you can nap to the sound of his heartbeat.
Ā šĀ Ā Ā·Ā Ā yandereĀ researcher!nerdjo despite being so gentle, would remind you what kind of man he was. not all of the times he plucked you from the jar were for your benefit.
at times, he'd tie your wings a little tighter. laying you out on a leather-bound notebook and analysing you piece by piece.
"fascinating," he mumbled, prodding at your arm with a flat, wooden stick. applying pressure. testing. "your limbs are stronger than they look. is it your magic, I wonder?"
he spoke about wanting to take you apart. bit by bit, to understand you better. when you gave him a horrified look, he chuckled, cocking his head as he tickled your wings.
"what, sweetheart? wouldn't it be intimate?"
Ā šĀ Ā Ā·Ā Ā yandereĀ researcher!nerdjo wouldn't ever hurt you. he didn't think he had it in him. you were too soft, too elegant, too pretty. it broke his heart whenever he'd see you weeping in your jar.
"don't cryā¦ please don't cry," he'd whisper as he laid his head beside the jar. watching you with sullen blue eyes.
you'd cry for him to let you go, and it ached a deep part of him.
"I can't. I'm sorry, sweet thing." his lips brushed the glass, a sincere apology from a man so sadistic. "I need you." came his shaky breath.
"I need you here. with me. please don't hate me."
Ā šĀ Ā Ā·Ā Ā yandereĀ researcher!nerdjo saw you staring at the wall of wings while he worked, once. silent and wide eyed.
he sorely misinterpreted you, tilting his head with a crooked smile. "do you like any of them?"
scooping you out of the jar, he cradled you in his palm. "I could make you a dressā¦ would you like that?"
your look of horror bewildered him, and when tears streamed down your face, he rushed to soothe you. brushing away your tears with a petal plucked from a flower on his desk.
when you told him why you weptā because you thought the wings were your fallen brethren, his face twisted. almost disgusted that you could compare your pristine, perfect wings to those baneful butterflies. still, his shoulder shook with a little laugh. he found it morbidly amusing.
"oh, my sweetheart. of course not," he cooed at you. "those are butterflies. you are the only fairy I've had in my grasp."
pale lips brushed your little head, ever delicate. as he whispered. soft, lovingly.
"that's why you're so special to me."
you didn't look too convinced. your small sniffles broke his heart, so he sighed as he gently nudged you over. till you were slumped over his thumb and forefinger.
"sweetheart, please don't insult yourself so," he lightly scolded. "butterfly wings are so brittle. so dull. but yoursā¦"
his other index slowly, tenderly brushed down your spine. tracing your wings in that same gentle, sick fascination he always had.
"yours are pristine. delicateā¦ perfect."
his shaky breath tickled your wings, and they twitched. his throat ran dry. heart hammering a bit faster at this little, intimate moment.
with a gentle squeeze to you, he leaned down. pressing a slow, velvet kiss to your wings. smiling into them as they fluttered and you pitched a whine.
"see?" satoru breathed, lips brushing over their little twitches. his smile was soft, sick.
"these are all mine. my special little sweetheart."
Ā© ššššššššššššššš. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. art cred: @/poafie (ig)
š·ā” enjoyed this piece? consider joining my patreon or commissioning me <3 I appreciate all the support!
ā”. should I make this into a series? also what do you think of the new layouutttt
ā”. @brxght-world @bunnymacaron @angelhyuka @1eliana123-blog @famousdestinyland @viviixcx @suguphile @erendipi @levibabymama @tomie-it-girl @fallen-angelxoxo @moonlight-jasmine7 @akaashiit @phantomhearts65 @sukunasforthball @xaithings
I am so confused I canāt decide wether I want to unalive him or give him a chancešš
Love and Deepspace Compilation 03
āļøDisclaimers + notes:
All of the fics below are NOT MINE. They were only liked and reblogged by me here for easier access.
The names of different writers will be put above the separated lists.
Be mindful of all trigger warnings in each writer's posts (if there are any).
This is for non-mc!readers exclusively, where we're treated right as we deserve! If you don't want to be MC and don't like lads x non-MC heavy angst, you've come to one of the right places here.
No lads x MC!reader here.
š©· = Personal super duper favorite <3
āļø = Yandere || š = Smut || šāš© = Suggestive, no smut
š = Strictly platonic || No emoji = sfw
š = Multiple chapters/parts
ā ļø = Sensitive & triggering topics
Check out my other LADS compilations (pinned post)
@mylifedoesntexist
Titration š©·šā ļø
Pairing: Zayne x dietian!you
Parts: 26/26 + epilogue (+ mini side stories)
@reenaki
Listen, so bitter and sweet š
Pairing: Caleb x you
Parts: 2/2ćļ¼ 2
@luviruu
Meow? Woof? š©·āļøš
Pairings: isekai-ed!lads x you (poly)
Parts: 3/? (wip)
No longer two worlds apart (synopsis)
Welcome home
She's my collar
Before you go
@da1siesss
Wake up in the morning as a LADS NPC
Pairings: poly!ladsMC x isekai-ed!you
@calebsdamsel
It's you āļøš
Pairings: self-aware!lads x isekai-ed!you
Parts: 2/? (wip)
No one looks like you
No one walks that way
@glitch-but-ya
Blooming daturas ā ļø
Pairing: Sylus x pacifist!you
Polarity š©·
Pairing: Sylus x insecure!you
@ladsonlads
Impartial hearts ššāš©
Pairing: boss!Sylus x you
Parts: 2/2ćļ¼ ļ¼ š©·
@nicohii
You share your national recipes with each other
Pairing: Caleb x roommate!you
@yuunileb
Out at sea
Pairing: sailor!Caleb x MC's maid!you
@mysweetvalentine1111
He calls you "Pigeon"
Pairing: Caleb x you
@peachletwrites
Just like this š©·šāš©
Pairing: Sylus x you
Even if you break, I'll stay
Pairing: Sylus x you
Thirty minutes to midnight
Pairing: Sylus x you
@drgn-sky
Dead flower
Pairing: Sylus x ex-hanahaki!you
Decade flower
Pairing: Zayne x hanahaki!you
@laurefindele
Arranged marriage in ancient China
Pairing: hubby!Sylus x wifey!you
@tmswritesfanfics
Inside an Otoge: Mister Dragon, let me love you š
Pairing: dragon!Sylus x isekai-ed!you
Parts: 7/? (wip)
Another isekai plot
Enticing offers
Restrained desires
This flower cannot bear fruit
Irreplaceable š©·
When destiny knocks
Fingers crossed
@rika-mmendmethings
The sun & the star
Pairing: Sylus x college student!you
Hollow holidays
Pairing: Sylus x engineer!you
@icarusignite
He leaves you out like a penny in the rain š©·š
Pairing: Zayne x doctor!you
Parts: 3/3ćļ¼ ļ¼ ļ¼
@flirtwithluck
Between the shelves
Pairings: all lads x you (separate)
Under the Azurie sun š
Pairing: Xavier x you
Parts: 6/6ćļ¼ ļ¼ ļ¼ ļ¼ ļ¼ ļ¼
@qinsylus
The you beyond the screen š©·
Pairings: self-aware!lads x you (separate)
The crow & his kitten š
Pairing: Sylus x you
Best birthday gift ever š
Pairing: Xavier x lowkey-sub!you
When someone else hits on you
Pairings: all lads x you (separate, no Caleb)
@madam8
Bound by fate šāļøā ļø
Pairing: Sylus x isekai-ed!you
Parts: 7/?ćļ¼ ļ¼ ļ¼ ļ¼ ļ¼ ļ¼ ļ¼
ćāØćInitial concept (cw: lowkey dubcon as you were under the force of the soulmate thread/bond when it happened)
@crimsonrubie
Meet cute š©·
Pairing: Zayne x deaf!you
Past feelings, present time š©·
Pairing: Caleb x you
Perfect remedy š©·
Pairing: hubby!Zayne x wifey!you
@leftpoetrymoon
A past that was forgotten
Pairing: Caleb x you
@starkissedxav
Coming up roses ā ļø
Pairing: past Caleb x you āØ Rafayel x you (endgame)
@atomics-creations
Reminiscence
Pairing: Rafayel x childhood friend!you
Blood red ink
Pairing: Rafayel x writer!you
A smile š
ćāØćIf the world was ours (sequel)
Pairing: Zayne x doctor!you
@leenkeyluc
Adoring him
Pairing: Zayne x smol!you
One wish only
Pairing: Sylus x you
Take me by the hand
Pairing: Zayne x you
Reminders of the past ā ļø
Pairing: Sylus x sad!you
To-do list: prove my love to you, my dear š©·
Pairing: hubby!Zayne x wifey!you
A lady's dream š
Pairings: Duke!Zayne, boss!Sylus x maid!you (separate)
ćāØćThe line between us (Zayne's ending)
ćāØć(Sylus's ending)
@mariahuchiha90
Rafayel's only beloved šāļø
Pairing: Rafayel x whimsical!you
Parts: 3/? (wip)ćļ¼ ļ¼ ļ¼
@lilithstrawberry
Heated blood
Pairing: hubby!Zayne x wifey!you
@reit0o
Cup of tea
Pairing: Caleb x you
@deltarogers
Girl's girl
Pairing: Sylus x you
@amethyst-ix
They're yandere for you āļø
Pairings: all lads x kinda-indifferent!you
@snowypi
Bloom anew š©·
Pairing: Zayne x insecure!you
@dustyblack
Ambush
Pairing: Caleb x you
Winter
Pairing: Zayne x you
Fragile
Pairing: Rafayel x you
Everything
Pairing: Sylus x you
Distance
MASTERLIST || CHARACTER M.LIST
One Shot
Pairing: Sanji x f!Reader
Summary: Drowning in the background of Sanjiās endless flirting, a jealous you, tries to freeze him out, only for the icy distance to explode into a raw, breathless confession of mutual love
Word Count:
Warning + Tags: Fluff | Straw Hat Crew Reader | Established Friendship to Lovers | Miscommunication | Idiots in Love | Angst with a Happy Ending | Jealousy | Mild Angst | Emotional Outbursts | Confessions | Mutual Longing | Use of Y/n | Kissing
The wooden planks of the Thousand Sunny creaked softly under the weight of the afternoon sun, a familiar, comforting rhythm that usually brought peace to your mind.
But lately, the ship felt smaller, the open sea narrower, and the air heavier, thick with a longing you desperately tried to bury.
You sat on the deck, a half-read book resting in your lap, though your eyes hadnāt processed a single word in the last twenty minutes.
Instead, your gaze was helplessly drawn toward the galley door. Right on cue, it swung open with a dramatic flourish.
"Nami-san~! Robin-chan~! I have prepared a refreshing, crystal-clear berry parfait to match your radiant beauty on this sweltering afternoon!"
Sanji practically floated across the deck, his legs turning into ribbons of pure, energetic motion, a silver tray balanced perfectly on the fingertips of one hand.
His single visible eye was spun into a literal pink heart, his voice hitting those familiar, melodious registers of absolute adoration.
He slid the elegantly layered glasses onto the table where Nami was mapping and Robin was reading, offering them a deep, sweeping bow that belonged in a royal court rather than a pirate ship.
"Thank you, Sanji-kun. It looks wonderful," Nami said without looking up from her charts, completely accustomed to the worship.
"My, how lovely. Thank you, Cook-san," Robin murmured, offering a graceful, knowing smile.
You felt a familiar, sharp twist in your chest; a bitter, toxic little knot that tightened every single time this happened.
It wasnāt that you disliked Nami or Robin; you loved them like sisters.
They were brilliant, beautiful, and deserved every ounce of respect.
What hurt, what truly tore at your seams, was the crushing realization that to Sanji, you were just another member of the collective category he calledĀ "the ladies."
He loved women.
All women.
He was a chivalrous knight by nature, genetically coded to worship the ground any female walked on.
And because you were a woman on his crew, he treated you with that same sweeping, heart-eyed enthusiasm.
He made you specialized drinks, he complimented your hair, he defended you from danger with his life.
But it didnāt mean anything.
Not the way you wanted it to.
To you, Sanji wasn't just the crew's brilliant cook or a chivalrous prince.
He was the man who stayed up late to make sure you had warm tea when you were exhausted.
He was the fierce, terrifyingly strong protector whose back you trusted implicitly in battle. He was the quiet, thoughtful soul who smoked cigarettes on the deck at 3:00 AM, looking out at the ocean with a melancholy depth that broke your heart.
You loved him.
Deeply, desperately, and entirely in secret.
And seeing your own profound, aching love mirrored in his eyes only when he was playing the part of the generic, swooning love-cook was a slow-acting poison.
"And for you, my lovely Y/n!"
Suddenly, Sanji was in front of you, dropping to one knee with a third glass held out like a sacred offering.
His face was flushed, his smile bright and dazzling. "A special blend just for your sweet palate. The berries are perfectly ripe, just like-"
"Thanks, Sanji," you interrupted quietly, forcing a small, tight smile that didnāt reach your eyes.
You took the glass, deliberately keeping your fingers from brushing against his.
"But Iām actually not very hungry. Hey, Luffy! Catch!"
Before Sanji could even blink, you tossed the beautifully crafted dessert across the deck.
A rubbery arm shot out from the grassy lawn, snatching the glass out of the air. In a single, horrific gulp, Luffy inhaled the parfait, glass and all, before spitting the glass out with a cheerful,
"Thanks, Y/n! Delish!"
Sanji froze.
The comedic hearts vanished from his eyes, replaced by an expression of sheer, unadulterated shock.
For Sanji, having his food rejected was an insult; having it casually passed off to Luffy was a tragedy.
But more than that, the sudden, cold distance in your voice struck him like a physical blow.
"Y/n, chan..." Sanji stammered, his hand still extended in the air, his voice dropping from its usual dramatic pitch to something low, grounded, and intensely confused.
"Did I... did I make it too sweet? If you wanted something else, you only had to say the word. I can whip up a lemon tart, or perhaps a chilled savory soupā"
"No, itās fine. Iām just tired," you said, standing up and closing your book with a definitive snap.
You didn't look him in the eye.
You couldn't.
If you looked at him for too long, the jealousy and the heartbreak would spill right out of you.
"I'm going to go lie down in the cabin for a bit."
As you walked away, your shoulders tense, you could feel his gaze burning into your back.
Sanji stood rooted to the spot, his lighter clicking open and shut in his pocket, a nervous habit he only fell into when his mind was spinning.
His brow furrowed as he watched the door to the womenās quarters click shut behind you.
What was that?Ā he thought, a heavy, sinking feeling settling into the pit of his stomach. It wasn't the first time this week you had brushed him off.
Two days ago, you had declined his offer to carry your heavy crate of supplies.
Yesterday, you had sat on the opposite side of the dining table, laughing with Zoro of all people, completely ignoring the specialized floral tea he had placed in front of you.
He looked over at Nami and Robin.
Nami was watching him with a raised, perceptive eyebrow, while Robin hid a small, mysterious smile behind her teacup.
"Sanji-kun," Nami said softly, her tone unusually devoid of its usual demanding edge.
"You're a genius in the kitchen, but sometimes you are incredibly blind."
"What? Nami-san, what do you mean? Did I offend her? Did I do something wrong?" Sanji pleaded, practically throwing himself at her feet in an agony of concern.
"Please tell me! If I have caused even a shadow of discomfort to my beloved Y/n, I will throw myself into the sea!"
Robin set her cup down with a soft click.
"Perhaps it is not what you are doing wrong, Cook-san, but what you are doingĀ tooĀ well. A woman's heart is a delicate thing. It does not always wish to be shared with the rest of the world."
Sanji blinked, his mind racing, but the cryptic words only tangled his thoughts further.
All he knew, with a terrifying certainty, was that you were pulling away from him.
And the mere thought of you slipping out of his reach made it hard for him to breathe.
The next few days became a grueling war of attrition.
You had made a firm, calculated decision: for the sake of your own sanity and your heart, you had to distance yourself from Sanji.
You couldn't keep living on the high of his flirtatious attention, only to be brought crashing down to earth when he directed that exact same fiery passion toward a passing marine lieutenant or a pretty shopkeeper on a winter island.
You needed to treat him like a regular crewmate.
No more late-night chats in the kitchen.
No more lingering glances. No more melting into his warmth.
But avoiding someone on a pirate ship, even one as spacious as the Sunny was an agonizingly difficult task.
Especially when that someone was Sanji, whose entire existence on the ship revolved around catering to your every need.
At breakfast, you purposely took a seat between Usopp and Franky, embedding yourself in their loud, boisterous conversation about a new weapon modification.
"Good morning, my beautiful ladies!" Sanjiās voice echoed as he emerged from the kitchen, carrying platters of perfectly poached eggs, freshly baked bread, and sliced fruits.
He set Namiās and Robinās plates down with his usual dramatic flourishes, but when he approached your section of the table, his movements slowed.
His expression grew incredibly focused, almost solemn.
"Y/n, your eggs are poached exactly for three minutes, just how you like them," he said softly, leaning over Usopp to place the plate perfectly in front of you.
His voice lacked the exaggerated theatricality he used for the others; it was quiet, intimate, a private offering meant only for your ears.
"And I made sure to use the mild herbs you prefer."
Your heart did a violent flip against your ribs.
You desperately wanted to look up, to catch his eye, to smile and tell him he was wonderful.
But the image of him doing a literal backflip of joy when Nami thanked him earlier flashed in your mind, a cold splash of reality.
"Thanks, Sanji. Looks great," you said, your voice flat, your eyes locked onto your plate.
You immediately turned back to Usopp. "So, Usopp, you were saying about the pop greens?"
Sanji stood there for a fraction of a second, his hand hovering near your plate, looking like a man who had just been slapped in the face.
His mouth parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, to demand to know why you wouldn't look at him, but Luffyās loud shouting for seconds broke the silence.
With a tight, strained jaw, Sanji turned on his heel and walked back to the counter, the ambient temperature of the kitchen instantly dropping.
By the time dinner rolled around, the tension on the ship was palpable. Even Zoro, who usually ignored everything that didn't involve sleeping or training, was watching the two of you with a dark, perceptive squint.
You ate quickly, excused yourself before dessert was served, and volunteered for the first night-watch shift. It was the perfect excuse.
The crow's nest was isolated, high above the deck, cold and far away from the scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne that always seemed to follow Sanji around.
Up in the crow's nest, the night was freezing.
The wind whipped violently against the glass windows, and the dark, vast expanse of the sea stretched out endlessly into the midnight horizon.
You wrapped your thick coat tighter around your shoulders, leaning against the wooden railing, letting out a long, shuddering sigh.
It was working.
You were successfully putting distance between you.
But why did it feel like you were slowly carving your own heart out with a rusty knife? Every time you ignored him, the look of profound hurt and confusion in his blue eye haunted you.
You didn't want to hurt him.
He is a good man.
But you had to protect yourself.
The sound of the trapdoor opening made you stiffen.
You froze, your muscles locking tight as a familiar mop of blonde hair appeared through the opening. Sanji climbed up into the crow's nest, a silver tray held firmly in his hand.
On it sat a single, steaming mug of hot cocoa, topped with a perfectly roasted marshmallow and a dust of cinnamon, exactly what he always made for you when the weather turned bitter.
"What are you doing here, Sanji?" you asked, your voice instantly adopting that guarded, defensive wall you had built over the last week.
"Zoro has the next watch. You should be sleeping."
Sanji didn't answer right away.
He walked over to the small table in the center of the room and carefully set the tray down.
The yellow light of the lantern caught the sharp lines of his face, making him look older, exhausted, and incredibly serious.
There were no hearts in his eyes.
There was no goofy smile.
His lips were pressed into a thin, grim line.
"You didn't eat your dessert," he said, his voice a low, raspy rumble that vibrated right through the soles of your feet. "And it's freezing up here. Drink this."
"I don't want it," you said, turning your back to him, staring out into the dark ocean. "Give it to Luffy."
"No."
The sheer, unyielding finality in his voice made you flinch.
Sanji never said no to a woman.
Never.
Before you could process the shock, you heard his heavy footsteps close the distance between you.
In an instant, he was standing right behind you.
He didn't touch you, Sanji would never force himself into a woman's physical space but his presence was overwhelming, a wall of heat radiating against the freezing night air.
The rich, smoky scent of his tobacco tobacco and the faint trace of vanilla enveloped you, making your knees weak.
"What is wrong with you, Y/n?" he asked, and for the first time, you heard a raw, bleeding edge of anger mixed with desperation in his voice.
"What did I do?"
"Nothing, Sanji. You didn't do anything," you lied, keeping your eyes glued to the dark waves below, your hands gripping the railing so hard your knuckles turned white.
"Go back downstairs."
"Don't lie to me!" he snapped, his voice cracking slightly. "You haven't looked me in the eye for an entire week! You won't eat my food, you won't talk to me, you treat me like I'm some stranger you accidentally ran into on a street corner! If I did something to offend you, if I crossed a line, tell me! Strike me down, kick me, do whatever the hell you want, but don't... don't discard me like this."
The vulnerability in his confession was terrifying. It shook you to your very core.
You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat feeling like broken glass.
"I'm not discarding you, Sanji. I'm just... trying to give us some space. We're crewmates. That's all. I think it's better if we keep it that way."
"Crewmates?!" Sanji let out a sharp, bitter laugh that sounded entirely wrong coming from him.
"Is that all am I to you? After everything? After every late night, every conversation, every single thing I've built in that kitchen just to see you smile? You think I treat you like just another crewmate?!"
"Yes!" you finally broke, turning around to face him, the tears you had been holding back for days finally spilling over your eyelashes, hot and angry against your cold cheeks.
"Yes, Sanji! That is exactly what it is! You treat me exactly like you treat Nami, and Robin, and every single pretty girl on every single island we drop anchor at! You swoon, you flirt, you put hearts in your eyes, and you give us all the exact same prince-charming routine!"
Sanji recoiled as if he had been physically struck, his eye widening in absolute shock. "What... what are you saying?"
"I'm saying I can't do this anymore!" you cried out, your voice cracking as the dam completely shattered.
Every ounce of suppressed jealousy, heartbreak, and overwhelming love came vomiting out of you in a chaotic, unstoppable torrent.
"I am completely, utterly, stupidly in love with you, Sanji! And it is killing me! It kills me every single day to watch you throw that exact same adoration at every woman who breathes in your direction! I don't want to be just another girl on your list! I don't want to be just another woman you protect because your code demands it! I love you so much it makes me sick, and I can't sit there and watch you play the love-cook for the entire world when all I want is for you to look at me and seeĀ me! Not other woman but me!"
The silence that followed was deafening.
The wind screamed outside the glass, but inside the crow's nest, time had completely stopped.
You stood there, breathing heavily, your chest heaving, tears streaming down your face in ugly, messy tracks. You had said it.
You had ruined everything. You had confessed your pathetic, jealous feelings to a man who belonged to all women, and now things would never be the same.
You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling utterly exposed and pathetic, and turned your head away, waiting for his gentle, chivalrous letdown. You braced yourself for him to say,Ā 'I love you too, Y/n-chan, because I love all beautiful ladies...'
But the rejection never came.
Instead, a sudden, fierce pair of hands gripped your shoulders.
They weren't gentle, floating, or delicate.
They were firm, trembling with an intensity that shocked you, grounding you right where you stood.
You were forced to look up. Sanji was staring down at you, and the expression on his face made your heart completely stop.
His usual pristine, composed mask was completely shattered. His single visible blue eye was wide, blown out with a mixture of terror, revelation, and an overwhelming, burning passion that was so raw it was almost frightening.
He wasn't smiling.
He wasn't acting like a prince.
He looked like a man who had been starving in a desert for years and had suddenly stumbled upon an ocean.
"You... you idiot," Sanji whispered, his voice trembling violently, thick with unshed tears.
A single, heavy tear escaped his eye, tracking down his cheek. "You absolute, beautiful, blind idiot."
"Sanjiā"
"Shut up. Just... shut up and listen to me," he gasped, his grip tightening on your shoulders, pulling you a fraction of an inch closer.
His breath hitched in his throat, and the words began to pour out of him, chaotic, unrefined, and completely devoid of his usual poetic grace.
"You think I treat you the same? You think what I feel for you is the same as what I feel for Nami-san or Robin-chan? Are you out of your mind?!"
He let out a ragged breath, pressing his forehead against yours, ignoring your gasp of shock.
The heat of his skin, the scent of his tobacco, the frantic, erratic beating of his heart against his ribs, it was all too close, too real.
"I flirt with them because it's who I am, because it's easy, because it's a game!" Sanji confessed, his voice dropping to a fierce, desperate hiss that vibrated against your lips.
"But with you? I don't even know how to breathe when you walk into the room! Do you have any idea how terrifying you are to me? I don't put hearts in my eyes for you because I'm too busy trying to keep my chest from exploding! Every single dish I cook, every morning I wake up, every time I stand on this deck, my eyes are looking forĀ you. Only you."
Your eyes widened, your mind completely stalling out as his words registered. "Sanji... what?"
"I love you!" he cried out, the words tearing from his throat like a physical wound, his face flushing deep red as he completely bared his soul to you, raw and bleeding.
"I am so deeply, terribly in love with you that it frightens me! I didn't say anything because I thought... I thought a beautiful, incredible woman like you could never look at a broken, messed-up chef like me as anything more than a joke. I thought if I showed you how desperately I wanted you, how much I wanted to hold you and never let you go, I would scare you away! So I acted like I always do. I hid behind the jokes, the flirting, the chivalry... because if I didn't, I would have dropped to my knees and begged you to be mine a long time ago!"
He stopped, his chest heaving, his blue eye searching your face with a desperate, pleading vulnerability that completely broke whatever walls you had left.
He was trembling.
The legendary Black Leg of the Straw Hat Pirates, a man who faced warlords and emperors without flinching, was shaking like a leaf in your hands.
"I don't want the world, Y/n," Sanji whispered, his thumbs gently moving up to wipe the tears from your cheeks, his touch suddenly turning so incredibly tender it made you sob.
"I just want you. Just you. Please... tell me I didn't misunderstand. Please tell me you meant what you said."
You couldn't speak.
The sheer volume of emotion in the room was suffocating, beautiful, and utterly overwhelming.
Instead of answering with words, you reached up, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, and pulled him down into a kiss.
Sanji let out a soft, broken sound against your mouth.
The instant your lips met his, all the hesitation, the jealousy, the fear, and the days of painful distance dissolved into nothingness.
The kiss wasn't a neat, practiced fairytale kiss; it was frantic, messy, and desperate, fueled by months of unspoken longing and agonizing restraint.
His hands slid from your shoulders down to your waist, gripping you with a fierce, possessive strength, lifting you slightly off your feet as he pulled you flush against his body.
He kissed you like you were his lifeline, his anchor in a stormy sea, pouring every ounce of his hidden devotion, his midnight thoughts, and his fierce love into the warmth of your mouth.
When he finally pulled back just an inch for air, his forehead remained pressed against yours, both of your breaths mingling in the chilly air of the crow's nest.
He was smiling now, not the goofy, theatrical smile he gave the world, but a soft, private, breathlessly happy smile meant only for you.
"The cocoa is going to get cold," he murmured against your lips, his voice incredibly deep, laced with a pure, unadulterated adoration that made your entire body tingle.
You let out a wet, breathless laugh, burying your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar, comforting scent. "I don't care about the cocoa, Sanji."
"Yeah?," he whispered, wrapping his strong arms completely around you, holding you so close you could feel the steady, rhythmic thumping of his heart, a heart that you finally realized, with absolute, undeniable certainty, belonged entirely to you.
"Because I'm never letting you distance yourself from me again."
Sleepy
MASTERLIST || CHARACTER M.LIST
One Shot
Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader
Summary: Satoru handles the rest of the world with reckless abandon, but when it comes to you, he handles your sleep-heavy heart with absolute gentleness.
Warning + Tags: Softness | Fluff | Comfort | Caretaking | Protective | DomesticĀ | Slow Pace | Mentions Of Burnout | Slice-Of-Life
The scent of old paper, rain-dampened concrete, and ozone always seemed to cling to the high-ceilinged offices of Tokyo Jujutsu High.
Outside, a gentle, rhythmic downpour tapped against the windowpanes, blurring the neon lights of the distant cityscape into soft, bleeding smears of color.
Inside, the only sound was the softĀ scritch-scratchĀ of a fountain pen and the occasional, heavy sigh leaves out of you, drowning in an ocean of bureaucratic paperwork.
As a high-ranking sorcerer and an indispensable administrative anchor for the Tokyo school, your desk was less of a workspace and more of a battleground.
Mission reports, casualty lists, curse energy evaluation charts, and budget requests for structural damages, mostly caused by a certain white-haired, six-foot-three menace towered around you like fortresses.
You had promised yourself you would just finish one more file.
Just one more report on a semi-grade one curse sighted in Shinjuku, and then you would go to bed.
But the human brain, even one wired for jujutsu, has its limits.
The neat kanji on the page began to swim, the low hum of the fluorescent lights acted as a twisted lullaby, and the sheer exhaustion of consecutive sleepless weeks finally caught up to you.
Your grip on the pen loosened, letting it roll across the wood. Your eyelashes fluttered once, twice, and then stayed shut.
With a soft, defeated sigh, your head drifted downward, coming to rest sideways on the crook of your folded arm.
A few stray locks of your hair fanned out across a half-signed requisition form.
Within minutes, your breathing evened out into the deep, rhythmic cadence of true, uninterrupted exhaustion.
The heavy oak door to your office didn't creak when it opened; it simply glided on its hinges, a testament to the absolute control of the man stepping through it.
Gojo Satoru didn't walk into rooms so much as he commandeered them.
Usually, his entrance was heralded by a loud, obnoxious greeting, a theatrical complain about Shokoās attitude, or the rustle of a plastic bag filled with limited-edition sweets from a bakery three prefectures over.
Tonight, however, the silence of the corridor seemed to bleed into him.
He stepped inside, a white paper bag from a high-end cafe in Ginza dangling carelessly from his index finger.
He had spent the last thirty-six hours exorcising a cluster of special-grade curses in the rural mountains of Tohoku, a task that would have broken a squad of elite sorcerers but had merely left him feeling slightly bored and craving sugar.
His first instinct upon returning to the school grounds was to find you, to drag you out for a midnight snack and whine about how tedious the higher-ups were being.
Through the dark fabric of his blindfold, the world was a vibrant, overwhelming canvas of cursed energy flows, thermal signatures, and atomic structures.
The Six Eyes saw everything, the residual spark of your technique lingering in your fingertips, the steady, slow pulse of your heart, and the absolute stillness of your physical form.
You were fast asleep.
Gojo stood frozen for a moment, a rare expression of quiet softness settling over his handsome features.
The sharp, cocky grin that usually defined his face melted away into something deeply tender, almost reverent.
He set the paper bag down on a nearby filing cabinet with absolute silence, ensuring not a single rustle of paper would disturb the fragile peace of the room.
He slid his hands into the pockets of his dark blue uniform trousers, his long, languid strides bringing him closer to your desk.
He didn't use his infinity to muffle his footsteps; he didn't need to. He moved with the predatory grace of a cat, shifting his weight flawlessly until he was standing right over you.
Leaning down, Gojo rested his forearms on the edge of your desk, bringing himself down to your eye level.
He tilted his head, studying the way your face looked when it wasn't tight with stress or focused on survival.
With a slow, deliberate movement, his long fingers reached up to the edge of his blindfold.
He pulled it down just enough to expose his eyesthose striking, ethereal pools of sky-blue and frost, framed by thick, snow-white lashes.
Without the fabric filtering the world, the sheer depth of his gaze was staggering, but right now, all that processing power was entirely dedicated to you.
He noticed the dark, faint shadows beneath your eyesāthe physical receipt of the endless hours you kept the school running while he was away playing the strongest.
He saw the slight, almost imperceptible twitch of your lips as you dreamed, and the way your chest rose and fell in perfect synchronicity with the rain outside.
"Look at you," he murmured, his voice a low, raspy whisper that barely carried through the quiet room.
"Always pushing yourself until you break."
There was a profound ache in his chest, a heavy, grounded feeling that only ever existed when it came to you.
To the rest of the world, Gojo Satoru was a god, a weapon, an untouchable force of nature that stood at the apex of existence. He was the definition of infinity, a concept meant to be revered, feared, or utilized, but never touched.
But you? You never looked at him like he was a monument.
You scolded him when he stole your pastries, you sighed with genuine fondness when he played his childish pranks, and you held his hand with a warmth that penetrated even the bitterest cold of his isolation. With you, he wasn't just the Strongest.
He was just Satoru.
Slowly, carefully, he lifted his right hand from his pocket.
He reached out, his long, elegant fingers hovering just millimeters away from your cheek.
For anyone else, the Limitless was a barrier designed to keep the world at bay.
But right now, Satoru consciously dropped it. He deactivated the infinity that permanently separated him from the universe, allowing himself the raw, unshielded vulnerability of physical contact.
His knuckles brushed against your cheekbone.
Your skin was warm, soft, and slightly flushed from the heat of the office.
The contrast against his perpetually cool skin was intoxicating.
He tracked the line of your jaw, his thumb gently smoothing over the gentle curve of your cheek, his touch lighter than a breath of wind.
"You're too soft for this world," he whispered, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"But I'm glad you're in mine."
You stirred slightly at the sensation of his touch, a soft, incoherent murmur escaping your lips.
You didn't wake, but your head shifted instinctively, leaning deeper into the warmth of his palm, as if your subconscious recognized his energy and deemed it the safest place in the world.
Satoruās breath hitched.
A profound wave of affection washed over him, so intense it made his throat tight. He let his hand cup your cheek fully, his thumb tracing the soft skin just beneath your eye.
He wished he could take all the exhaustion, all the weight of the jujutsu world that you carried on your shoulders, and simply crush it between his fingers the way he did with curses.
He glanced down at the paperwork scattered beneath your arm.
His blue eyes scanned the documents in a fraction of a second, registering the tedious requests from the Kyoto branch and the endless expense reports.
"Stupid higher-ups," he muttered under his breath, a flash of genuine irritation crossing his face.
"I should just execute them all so you can get some sleep."
He knew he couldn't do that not yet, anyway but the thought of you exhausting yourself for the sake of an archaic system infuriated him.
Still, looking back down at your peaceful face, the anger dissipated, replaced entirely by a fierce, protective instinct.
Recognizing that sleeping on a hard wooden desk would leave your neck stiff and sore by morning, Satoru stood up to his full height.
He moved around to your side of the desk, stepping into the narrow space between your chair and the wall.
Gently, with the practiced precision of a man who could manipulate space at an atomic level, he slid one long arm behind your back, supporting your shoulders, while his other arm slid beneath your knees.
He lifted you up effortlessly, pulling your body against his chest.
You gasped softly in your sleep, your hands instinctively reaching out to clutch at the dark fabric of his jacket.
Your forehead rested right against the crook of his neck, your warm breath puffing against his skin.
Satoru froze for a second, holding his breath as he waited to see if you would wake. When you merely snuggled closer, letting out a contented sigh as you inhaled the familiar scent of him; expensive cologne, winter air, and a hint of sugar, he relaxed, a genuine, radiant smile breaking across his face.
Instead of taking you back to your dorms across the campus, Satoru carried you over to the large, plush leather sofa sitting in the corner of your office.
He lowered you down with immense care, ensuring your head rested comfortably against the soft cushions.
He stepped back for a moment, looking around the dim room until his eyes landed on his own discarded winter coat; a heavy, oversized black trench coat that he had thrown over a chair earlier. He picked it up and draped it gently over your sleeping form.
The coat completely swallowed you, burying you in his scent and warmth.
Satoru didn't leave.
He couldn't bring himself to step out of the room, not when the world outside was loud, demanding, and cold, and this room contained the only peace he had known all week.
He sank down onto the floor beside the sofa, sitting cross-legged on the rug.
He leaned his back against the base of the couch, right beside where your head rested.
He pulled his blindfold back up over his eyes, settling into the quiet darkness, but his left hand reached backward, resting flat on the cushion just inches from your face.
Within seconds, your fingers shifted beneath the heavy coat, sliding out to loosely curl around his wrist.
Satoru smiled in the darkness of his blindfold, turning his hand over so he could interlock his long fingers with yours.
He squeezed gently, a silent promise whispered into the quiet rain-slicked night.
"Sleep well," he murmured, his voice thick with an emotion he rarely showed the world.
"I've got you. Always."
I havenāt played love and deep space in a month because my phone has no storage but after seeing the new love interest oh how I wanna write smut and get to know himā¦. Sylus and Rafayel has competition:ā)
genga by ćć Ligton
Flowers
MASTERLIST || CHARACTER M.LIST
One Shot
Pairing: Osamu Dazai x f!Reader
Summary: A single flower is all it takes to leave Yokohama's most enigmatic detective speechless.
Word Count:
Warnings + Tags: Emotional Vulnerability | Fluff
The afternoon sun hung low over the Yokohama port, casting long, amber shadows across the polished wooden floors of the Armed Forces Detective Agency.
Inside, the usual chaotic symphony of a weekday wrap-up was in full swing.
Kunikida was furiously typing at his desk, his glasses slipping down his nose as he muttered a rhythmic, angry cadence about deadlines and broken budgets.
Across the room, Ranpo was loudly crunching on a fresh bag of potato chips, his feet propped up on his desk as he solved a complex murder case from a newspaper clipping in under thirty seconds.
And then, there was Dazai.
Dazai was currently draped over the agencyās plush sofa like a discarded silk ribbon, one arm hanging limply toward the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling tiles.
He was humming a jaunty, morbid tune about double suicide, entirely undisturbed by the storm of productivity swirling around him.
But the moment the agency's heavy oak door clicked open, Dazaiās posture subtly shifted.
His dark, honey-brown eyes flicked toward the entrance, the lazy fog in his gaze instantly clearing.
You walked in, carrying a small stack of reference documents Kunikida had asked you to retrieve from the local archives.
You were a member of the agency, a steady, grounding presence in a sea of supernatural chaos.
But more than that, you were the person who held Dazaiās heart, a fragile, carefully guarded thing that he rarely let the world see.
You had been in a relationship for months now, an understated but deeply profound bond born from quiet late-night conversations and a shared understanding of the world's sharper edges.
"Ah, you're back!" Kunikida barked, not looking up from his monitor. "Did you find the 1923 smuggling manifests?"
"Right here, Kunikida-san," you said, your voice a calm balm to the room's frantic energy.
You walked over and placed the documents neatly on his desk.
As you turned around, you caught Dazai watching you.
He didn't offer his usual theatrical, dramatic leap from the couch to whine about how much he missed you.
Instead, he simply tracked your movements with a soft, intensely focused gaze, a faint, genuine smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
You walked over to his sofa, stepping over his dangling arm, and stood beside him.
With a deft, quiet movement, you reached into the canvas tote bag slung over your shoulder.
"I found this near the brick warehouses," you murmured softly, ensuring your voice didn't carry across the noisy room. "It made me think of you."
You extended your hand. Resting between your fingers was a single flower.
It wasn't a pristine, store-bought rose or a flawless, engineered blossom. It was a single, vibrant blue anemone, its petals delicate but resilient, blooming fiercely against the salt-tinged air of the port city.
Dazai froze.
The lazy, theatrical air he wore like armor vanished in an instant. His eyes widened, the dark pupils dilating as he stared at the flower in your hand.
For a terrifyingly long second, the brilliant, silver-tongued detective, the former dark executive of the Port Mafia, lost his ability to speak.
"For... me?" Dazaiās voice was barely a whisper, a stark contrast to his usual booming dramatics.
"Yes," you smiled, leaning down slightly, your eyes reflecting nothing but warmth and absolute sincerity. "For you."
To anyone else, a single flower was a trivial gesture.
A passing thought.
But to Dazai Osamu, it felt like a seismic shift.
In his line of work, and in his violent past, people didn't give him flowers.
Flowers were meant for the dead, laid upon graves in solemn, tearful remembrance.
Or flowers were meant for the innocent, given in grand, performative gestures of traditional romance, a world Dazai had always felt entirely disconnected from.
He was a creature of the dark, a man wrapped in bandages who spent his life waiting for the other shoe to drop.
He didn't get flowers.
Slowly, almost trembling, he reached out.
His bandaged fingers hovered over yours for a brief moment before he gently took the stem of the anemone.
He held it as if it were made of spun glass, spinning it slowly between his thumb and forefinger, watching the light catch the deep, velvety blue of the petals.
"Oho? What's this?" Ranpoās voice suddenly cut through the quiet bubble, his sharp green eyes narrowing as he peered over his glasses from across the room. "The great Dazai is speechless over a weed? How fascinating."
Kunikida paused his furious typing, glancing over at Dazaiās hand.
He blinked, clearly confused by Dazaiās uncharacteristically stunned silence. "A flower? Why are you giving him something heāll probably just try to eat or use in some ridiculous stunt, reader?"
"Hey! Leave them alone," Yosano chimed in, walking out from her clinic room with a medical file in hand.
A knowing, incredibly soft smile graced her lips as she looked at Dazaiās face.
She, perhaps better than most, understood the heavy weight of Dazai's past. She knew exactly what a gesture of pure, unconditional life meant to a man who had spent so long flirting with death. "I think it's beautiful. Suits him, in a strange way."
Dazai simply sat up, his movements slow and deliberate, keeping his eyes anchored entirely on the blue flower in his palm.
"A blue anemone," Dazai murmured, his voice thick with a depth of emotion that made the rest of the room go entirely quiet.
The teasing atmosphere evaporated, replaced by a profound respect for the moment happening before them.
Dazai looked up at you, his honey eyes swirling with an intense, raw vulnerability. "Do you know what this means in the language of flowers, my love?"
You leaned in closer, brushing a stray lock of brown hair away from his forehead. "Protection against evil. Anticipation. And... a refusal to give up on someone."
Dazai swallowed hard, a breathy, fragile laugh escaping his lips.
He carefully slipped the stem of the flower into the breast pocket of his tan trench coat, right over his heart, so the blue petals peeked out against the fabric.
He stood up, ignoring the presence of his colleagues entirely. He reached out, wrapping his long, bandaged arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.
He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the comforting, familiar scent of you. His grip was tight, almost desperate, as if he were anchoring himself to the earth through you.
"I don't deserve you," he whispered against your skin, his voice trembling with a profound, aching devotion. "But I am entirely, completely selfish."
You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him just as tightly, feeling the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart against your chest, a heart that was beating for the living, for the future, and entirely for you.
"I know."
calling it a colour study and leaving it as is
60th Expedition
MASTERLIST || CHARACTER M.LIST
One Shot
Pairing: Levi Ackerman x f!Reader
Word Count:
Summary: When a devastating injury on an expedition leaves you drifting in a terrifying, drug-induced haze, the only thing keeping you anchored to reality is the desperate, unyielding grip of a man who cannot bear to lose the person he loves.
Warning + Tags: Heavy Angst | Emotional Damage | Post-Battle Trauma | Medication-Induced Hallucinations/Delirium | Healing | Battle Injuries | Hurt To Comfort | Happy Ending | Terrified Levi | Severe Psychological Distress | Panic Attacks | Emotional Vulnerability | Mention Of Death
I cried while writing this :)
The rain outside the Scout Headquarters did not fall; it dragged itself down the stone walls, thick and gray, swallowing the midday sun until the hallways of the old castle smelled of damp mortar and old wood.
In the small, fiercely scrubbed office of the Captain of the Special Operations Squad, the silence was heavy enough to bruise.
Levi Ackerman sat behind his desk.
His posture was, as always, impeccably straight, a rigid line of defiance against the exhaustion pulling at his muscles.
His tea had gone cold an hour ago. A thin, pale film had formed over the dark amber surface of the liquid, undisturbed because he hadnāt moved a finger to touch the cup.
His gray eyes, usually sharp enough to cut through the bravado of any fresh recruit, were fixed entirely on the door.
Every sound from the corridor, the heavy thud of an orderlyās boots, the distant, frantic murmur of Hangeās voice, the rattle of a gurney made the skin across his knuckles tighten until the bone showed white.
He didnāt pace.
Pacing was for men who believed they could outrun their thoughts.
Levi knew better.
He knew that the mind was a cage, and right now, his mind was trapped in the mud outside Wall Rose, three days ago, during the 60th Expedition Beyond the Walls.
The expedition had been a disaster from the moment the red smoke flares tainted the sky.
The formation had broken under the pressure of an unprecedented swarm of abnormals, their erratic movements scattering the vanguard and forcing the flank squads into the dense, suffocating canopy of the giant forest.
You had been there, riding just a horse-length behind him.
He remembered the exact tilt of your head when you looked back to check the rear guard, the way the wind tore strands of your hair from its fastening, and the steady, unblinking focus in your eyes.
You werenāt one of his hand-picked elites not yet but you had survived enough skirmishes to earn a place near his side.
You understood his silences. You knew that when he muttered a curse under his breath, it wasn't anger directed at you, but at the world they were forced to inherit.
And then, the world had broken.
A thirteen-meter abnormal had dropped from the trees like a felled timber, its massive, misshapen hand sweeping through the brush with terrifying speed.
Levi had reacted instantly, his anchors embedding into the trunk of a massive cedar as he launched himself into a lethal, spinning arc that took the Titanās nape in a single, clean stroke.
But as the carcass began to steam and dissolve, the crash of breaking wood echoed through the clearing.
Another one.
Smaller, faster, crouching in the shadows of the roots.
He had shouted your name.
The sound had torn from his throat, raw and unfamiliar, stripping away the calm, detached facade of humanityās strongest soldier.
You had tried to dodge.
Your vertical maneuvering gear had hissed, the wires taut and true, but the Titanās blind flail had caught the guide wire.
The sudden, violent jerk had snapped the mechanism, sending you hurtling into the stone-hard trunk of an ancient oak.
The sound of the impact a dull, wet thud followed by the terrible, distinct crack of breaking bone had echoed louder in Leviās ears than the thunder of the Wall cannons.
He had killed the second Titan before its teeth could even part.
He didnāt remember the swing; he only remembered the spray of hot, foul blood against his face and the desperate, frantic scramble through the mud to reach where you lay.
You had been so still.
The right side of your jacket was torn away, stained a deep, terrifying crimson where your ribs had collapsed under the force of the blow.
A long, jagged laceration ran from your temple down to your jaw, tracking blood into your hair, pooling in the collar of your green cloak. Your eyes had been open, but they were vacant, the pupils blown wide and trembling as your breath came in shallow, ragged hitches that whistled with the sound of a punctured lung.
"Levi..." you had whispered, the word barely a puff of red-tinged air.
"Shut up. Don't speak," he had commanded, his hands; hands that had slaughtered hundreds of monsters, shaking so violently he could barely unbuckle your harness.
"Keep your eyes on me. Look at me, damn it."
He had pressed his hands against your side, trying to hold the broken pieces of you together, feeling the sickening shift of fractured bone beneath his palms.
For the first time in his life, the blood on his skin didn't belong to an enemy.
It belonged to the only person who made the gray walls of the barracks feel like something resembling a home.
A sharp, double knock broke the silence of the office.
Levi didn't call out.
He simply watched the brass doorknob turn. Hange stepped inside, their usual manic energy entirely absent, replaced by a profound, sagging fatigue.
Their glasses were smudged with grease and dried blood, and their white linen apron was stained with dark patches of iodine and rust.
"She's out of surgery," Hange said softly, closing the door behind them with a gentleness that felt entirely foreign in their hands.
"The internal bleeding is stopped. We managed to set the ribs and bind the lung, but... it was close, Levi. If we had been an hour later returning to the district..."
"Is she awake?" Leviās voice was too quiet, a low, rasping gravel that hadn't been used in hours.
"No. And she won't be not truly for a couple of days," Hange sighed, rubbing the bridge of their nose.
"The pain was too great. Her body was going into shock, and every time she stirred, the movement risked re-tearing the sutures in her chest. I had to use the heavy stuff. The concentrated poppy derivative from the underground reserves. The pure stuff."
Leviās jaw tightened.
He knew what that medicine did. In the Underground, thugs used watered-down versions of it to dull the pain of severed limbs or rot-infested teeth, but the pure extract was a terrifying chemical.
It didn't just numb the body; it unmoored the mind, casting the soul adrift in a gray, formless void where time and reality ceased to exist.
"Sheās in the isolated ward at the end of the hall," Hange continued, looking at him with a rare, heavy sympathy.
"Go see her. But Levi... prepare yourself. She isn't going to recognize you. The dose I had to give her to keep her heart from giving out... it takes a heavy toll on the senses."
Levi didn't thank them.
He didn't even look back as he stood, his chair scraping loudly against the floorboards.
He walked past Hange, his boots clicking rhythmically against the stone corridor, each step heavier than the last, until he reached the heavy oak door at the very end of the infirmary wing.
The room inside was small, dark, and smelled intensely of boiled vinegar, alcohol, and the cloying, sickly-sweet scent of the poppy syrup.
A single oil lamp burned on a low table by the bedside, its wick trimmed low to cast a dim, amber glow across the small bed.
And there you were.
You looked entirely swallowed by the white linens.
Your chest was wrapped so tightly in heavy canvas bandages that you looked rigid, frozen in place.
The laceration on your face had been stitched with thin, black thread, looking like a cruel spiderweb against your pale skin.
Your lips were dry, parted slightly to allow the thin, shallow breaths to escape.
Levi closed the door behind him, locking it with a soft click. He approached the bed with steps so light they made no sound at all. He looked down at you, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
He sat on the wooden stool beside the mattress, his knees nearly touching the frame.
Slowly, he reached out and took your left hand.
It was cold.
Your fingers, usually nimble and strong from years of handling blades, felt heavy and limp.
He wrapped his larger, calloused hands around yours, squeezing gently, trying to pour his own warmth into your skin.
"Hey," he murmured, his voice cracking slightly in the dark room. "Wake up, brat. That's an order."
Your eyelids fluttered.
It was a slow, agonizingly heavy movement, as if the skin were made of lead. Slowly, your eyes opened.
Levi felt a sharp jolt of hope in his chest, but it died the instant he met your gaze.
Your eyes, usually so bright and sharp, were completely vacant.
The pupils were dilated into vast, black pools that swallowed the color of your irises, staring not at him, but through him, fixed on some point in the empty air above his shoulder.
There was no recognition there.
No warmth.
Only a terrible, glassy distance.
"The leaves are too loud," you whispered.
Your voice didn't sound like yours; it was high, thin, and drifted through the room like smoke. "Tell them to stop shaking. The horses can't hear the bells."
Leviās throat tightened until it burned.
He leaned closer, his face only inches from yours, trying desperately to anchor your gaze to his own.
"It's me. It's Levi, brat. Look at me. There are no leaves, we're back at the barracks. You're safe."
You turned your head toward him, but the movement was jerky, uncoordinated, like a puppet with frayed strings.
Your eyes rolled slightly before focusing somewhere near his chin.
A faint, terrible smile touched the corner of your lips a smile that didn't reach your empty eyes.
"The short one," you mumbled, your words slurring together into a soft, incoherent mush. "The one with the gray eyes. Heās always... heās always so angry at the mud. Have you seen him? He has to clean the sky. Itās dirty. So dirty..."
A cold drop of dread pooled in Leviās stomach.
This was worse than seeing you bloodied in the forest.
In the forest, you were fighting; you were there, holding onto life with everything you had.
But here, in this quiet room, you were gone.
The medicine had severed the thread connecting you to the world, leaving only a hollow shell that spoke in riddles and stared into the dark.
"I'm right here," he said, his voice dropping into a desperate hiss.
He brought your cold hand up to his cheek, pressing your palm against his skin, against the sharp line of his jaw. "Feel this. I'm not a ghost, and I'm not in the sky. Look at me, damn it. Look at my eyes."
You blinked, and for a fraction of a second, your focus seemed to snap onto his face.
Your fingers twitched against his cheek, scraping lightly over his skin.
"Levi?" you breathed, the name a soft sigh.
"Yes. Yes, it's me," he urged, leaning in, his heart thumping violently against his chest. "I'm here."
But the clarity vanished as quickly as it had come, washed away by the tide of the drug.
Your expression went blank again, and your hand fell away from his face, dropping heavily onto the mattress like a dead weight.
"No," you sighed, a tear leaking from the corner of your eye and tracing a path through the dried blood on your temple.
"Heās in the trees. Heās covered in red. Everyone is covered in red. The red doesn't come off, even with the soap."
You began to agitate, your breathing catching in your throat.
Your uninjured shoulder twitched, and you tried to turn away from him, your heels digging into the sheets as if trying to flee from something only you could see.
The movement pulled at your bandaged chest, and a low, guttural whine of agony escaped your lips, though your face remained strangely expressionless, locked in its narcotic fog.
"Don't move!" Levi snapped, panic finally breaking through his iron resolve.
He caught your shoulders, pressing you firmly but gently back into the mattress, terrified that you would tear the delicate stitches holding your lungs together. "Stop it. Stop moving, you're going to kill yourself."
"Let me go," you wept, your voice rising into a thin, terrified shriek that pierced the quiet room.
"The strings are pulling me up! The Titan... it has my hair! Levi, help me! It has my hair!"
"I have you! I have you, you're not in the forest!" he roared, his voice shaking with an emotion he had spent a lifetime trying to bury.
He climbed onto the edge of the narrow bed, pinning your limbs with his own body weight, careful not to press against your broken ribs. He gathered your head against his shoulder, burying his face in your hair, smelling the sharp, chemical tang of the medicine mixed with the metallic scent of your blood.
"Listen to my voice," he commanded, his lips brushed against your ear, his chest heaving as he fought back the terrifying urge to break down.
"Listen to me. I killed it. I cut it to pieces. There's nothing left of it. You're in the room. With me. I won't let anything touch you. I swear it to you, just stop fighting."
He held you tightly, feeling the frantic, erratic thumping of your heart against his own ribs.
You continued to thrash for several long, agonizing minutes, babbling incoherent fragments of past missions, calling out for dead comrades, and begging the ghosts in your mind to let you sleep.
Levi held you through all of it.
He didn't let go, even when your fingernails dug into his arms through his shirt, even when your teeth grazed his collarbone in your blind, terrified panic.
He stayed frozen there, a human anchor trying to hold a drifting ship in the middle of a hurricane.
Slowly, the violent surge of the drug began to recede, leaving you exhausted and depleted.
Your limbs went slack once more, and your breathing slowed into a heavy, rattling rhythm.
Levi slowly pulled back, his face pale and drawn. He looked down at you.
Your eyes were closed now, but your face was still twitching with the remnants of the nightmares that the medicine was weaving in your brain.
He sat back on the stool, his hands trembling so much he had to clasp them together between his knees.
He looked around the small, dark room, feeling a profound, crushing isolation.
He was humanityās strongest soldier. He could fell a fifteen-meter monster in the blink of an eye.
But here, in this room, against the quiet, creeping madness of a chemical sleep, he was entirely powerless.
He reached out again, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair away from your stitched forehead.
He didn't care about the blood on his hands, or the dirt on his uniform. He only cared about the thin, fragile pulse beating beneath the skin of your wrist.
"Don't leave me here alone," he whispered into the dark, his voice so quiet it was instantly swallowed by the sound of the rain outside. "I've lost everyone else. Don't you dare leave me too. I cannot lose you, not you."
He settled into the chair, gripping your hand with a fierce, unbreakable tenacity, prepared to sit in the dark for as long as it took for your soul to find its way back to him.
The second day was no better.
The rain had stopped by morning, replaced by a dense, suffocating fog that pressed against the windowpanes like a shroud. The light inside the room remained muted, a permanent twilight that seemed to stretch the hours into infinity.
Hange came in twice to check your vitals and administer another dose of the poppy syrup.
Levi didn't move from his stool.
He hadn't slept; his eyes were bloodshot, the dark circles beneath them resembling bruises against his pale skin.
"Levi, you need to eat something," Hange said quietly during their afternoon visit, placing a tray of dry bread and lukewarm broth on the small table. "And you need to wash. You smell."
"Leave it," Levi muttered, his eyes never leaving your face.
Hange sighed, a sound full of ancient weariness.
They adjusted the bandage on your forehead, checking for signs of fever. "The fever is down, which is a good sign.
But the hallucinations are going to peak today. Her brain is trying to process the trauma of the impact while the medicine is actively suppressing her nervous system. She might say things... she might not know who she is."
"I know," Levi said.
"If she starts to thrash again, don't restrain her too harshly. Her muscles are strained. Just... speak to her. Use a calm voice. She needs to hear a familiar sound, even if she can't place it."
After Hange left, the silence returned, heavier than before.
By mid-afternoon, you began to stir again.
This time, there was no screaming. Instead, your eyes opened wide, staring fixatedly at the ceiling with a chilling, detached intensity.
Your lips moved rapidly, but the words were completely silent, a ghost conversation with an invisible entity.
Levi leaned forward, taking your hand again. "Hey. Look at me."
Your head snapped toward him with alarming speed.
You stared at his face for a long time, your expression shifting from confusion to a deep, profound sorrow that broke his heart.
"You're the one who died," you said, your voice a perfectly clear, conversational tone that was far more terrifying than your slurred speech from the night before. "I remember now. We left your body near the river. The Captain said we couldn't bring you back because the wagons were full of the others. I'm sorry. I wanted to carry you."
Levi felt the breath leave his lungs as if he had been struck in the solar plexus.
"No. I'm alive. You didn't leave me anywhere. Look at my uniform. Look at the wings." He pointed to the Survey Corps crest on his chest, his finger trembling.
You reached out with your free hand, your fingers hovering just above his chest, but you didn't touch the cloth. You shrank back, your face twisting in horror.
"No, no, there are worms in the feathers," you whispered, your eyes widening with a sudden, sharp terror. "They're eating the wings. Don't you see them? They're crawling under your skin, Levi. They're coming out of your eyes."
You began to franticly pull at your own bandages, your fingers tearing at the linen wraps around your chest. "Get them off me! They're inside the cloth! They're biting my ribs!"
"Stop it!" Levi grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them to the mattress beside your head.
He had to be careful; your struggles were clumsy but desperate, and he could hear the wet, strained wheeze in your chest that meant your injured lung was being stressed. "There are no worms. There is nothing on you. Look at me, damn it! I am right here!"
"You're a ghost!" you screamed, tears streaming freely down your cheeks now, wetting the collar of your shirt.
"You're all ghosts! Petra is in the corner, her neck is bent wrong, she won't stop staring at me! And Gunther... Gunther is hanging from the ceiling! Why won't you let me go to them? Let me go!"
The mention of his fallen squad sent a cruel, jagged blade through Leviās mind.
The memory of their broken bodies, left behind in that same forest, flashed before his eyes, blurring with the sight of your terrified, sweat-streaked face.
For a single, horrifying second, the room seemed to tilt, the gray walls closing in on him, the scent of the poppy syrup morphing into the copper stench of the battlefield.
He felt a rare, terrifying sensation rise in his throat: absolute panic. He was losing you.
Not to a Titan, not to a blade, but to the darkness inside your own mind.
"Listen to me!" he roared, his voice cracking, losing all of its usual cold authority. He pressed his forehead against yours, his skin hot and slick with sweat against your own. "I am not dead! I am right here, I am holding you! Feel my heart, you idiot! Feel it!"
He dragged one of your pinned hands down, pressing it violently against the left side of his chest, right over his heart. Beneath his ribs, his heart was hammering like a frantic drum, fast and terrifyingly loud in the quiet room.
"Do you feel that?" he hissed, his breath hot against your face. "Does a ghost have a heart that beats like this? Does a dead man feel this warm? Look at me! Don't look at the walls, don't look at the ceiling! Look at my eyes!"
You frozen.
The violent tension in your muscles suddenly vanished, leaving you limp beneath him. Your eyes, wide and terrified, slowly focused on his face.
The frantic, wild light in your pupils seemed to waver. You felt the steady, violent thudding beneath your palmāthe unmistakable, undeniable rhythm of life.
"Levi..." you whispered, your voice dropping back into that thin, fragile register. "It hurts. Everything hurts so much."
"I know. I know it does," he murmured, his voice softening into a low, desperate plea as he slowly released your wrists. He kept your hand pressed against his chest, his own hand covering yours to keep it there. "But you have to stay here. Don't go back into the dark. Stay with me."
Your eyes stayed fixed on his for a long, beautiful moment. For the first time in forty-eight hours, he saw you, the real you, buried deep beneath the haze of the drug, reaching out through the fog.
"I'm tired," you whispered, your eyelids fluttering, heavy with the weight of the medicine. "The fog... it's coming back."
"Then sleep," he said, his voice thick with an emotion he couldn't name. "But sleep here. Don't go anywhere else. I'll be right here when you wake up."
"Promise?"
"I promise," he said, the word a solemn, binding vow.
You let out a long, shuddering sigh, your eyes closing completely. Your hand relaxed against his chest, but you didn't pull it away.
Levi slowly sat back, his body shaking with a profound, delayed reaction to the panic.
He looked down at your peaceful, sleeping face, the lines of terror finally smoothing out into a quiet rest.
He didn't leave the bed.
He pulled the chair closer, resting his arms on the mattress beside your head, his hand still holding yours against his chest.
He closed his eyes, listening to the steady, rhythmic sound of your breathing, allowing himself to believe, for the very first time, that you might actually come back to him.
By the morning of the third day, the fog outside had finally cleared, letting a pale, watery sunlight filter through the window.
Levi was awake when the change happened. He had been watching the way the light caught the dust motes in the air when he felt a distinct, purposeful pressure against his fingers.
He looked down instantly.
Your eyes were open. But they weren't glassy anymore. The pupils were back to their normal size, the clear, beautiful color of your irises fully visible in the morning light. You were looking at him, not through him, and your expression wasn't one of terror or confusion, but of a quiet, groggy realization.
"Levi?" you said. Your voice was raspy, dry as sandpaper, but it was your voice. The cadence was right. The reality was back.
Levi felt a weight evaporate from his chest, a weight he hadn't realized he was carrying until it was gone. He leaned forward, his face softening in a way that very few people in the world had ever seen.
"You're back," he said, his voice thick.
"Where... what happened?" you mumbled, trying to clear your throat, your hand moving instinctively toward your bandaged ribs before a sharp wince stopped you.
"Don't move," he said quickly, his hand instantly on your shoulder to keep you still. "You took a bad hit from an abnormal in the forest. Broke four ribs, punctured a lung, lost a lot of blood. Hange had to pump you full of the underground poppy extract to keep you from going into shock."
You blinked slowly, the memories of the past few days floating through your mind like distant, disconnected dreams. "I remember... I remember ghosts. I remember being so scared. I thought you were dead."
Levi looked down at your hand, his thumb tracing a slow, gentle circle over your knuckles. "You were out of your mind. You were babbling about worms and dead squads. You didn't know who I was."
He looked back up, his gray eyes intense, filled with a raw, unshielded vulnerability that made your breath catch.
"You terrified me, you brat," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "Don't ever do that to me again."
A faint, genuine smile touched your lips, and this time, it reached your eyes. "I'll try not to. But... you stayed?"
Levi let out a short, quiet breath that might have been a laugh if he weren't so exhausted.
He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours for just a second, a quiet, private gesture of absolute relief.
"Of course I stayed," he said softly, his hand tightening around yours.
"Someone had to make sure you didn't ruin my sheets."
Everything
MASTERLIST || CHARACTER M. LIST
One shot
Pairing: Sylus x Non MC Reader
Word Count:
Summary: When Sylus mindlessly forgets your special day. He drops to his knees and do everything in his power to make sure his girl never feels sad again.
Warning + Tags: Angst | Hurt To Comfory | Neglect | Silent Treatment | Feeling like second choice | Protective
The heavy silence inside the grand, dimly lit corridors of Onychinus wasnāt just quiet; it was suffocating.
For the past three days, the N109 Zoneās most feared ruler had been met with a wall of absolute nothingness.
No sharp retorts.
No lingering glances.
No soft smiles when he walked into the room.
You moved through the penthouse like a ghost, your Evol usually so vibrant and attuned to your emotions humming at a low, fractured frequency.
You didnāt glare at him; you didnāt throw tantrums.
When he spoke to you, you simply nodded or offered a quiet, hollow, "Understood," before walking away.
Sylus sat at his desk, swirling a glass of amber liquid, his crimson eyes narrowed as he watched you retreat into the bedroom without a single backward glance.
His brow furrowed.
He was used to your fire, your warmth, even your occasional stubbornness.
This icy, detached version of you was entirely foreign, and frankly, it was starting to grate on his patience.
He thought it was just a passing mood, a petty grievance he figured you'd get over.
He didn't realize that under that silent exterior, your heart was utterly breaking.
Downstairs, Luke and Kieran were pacing nervously in the main lounge, exchanging terrified glances.
They had been tracking the dates, and the realization had just hit them like a freight train.
"Boss is a dead man," Luke whispered, his face pale.
"Worse than dead. Do you think we should tell him? If we don't, she might actually leave, and then everyone in the N109 Zone dies," Kieran groaned.
Steeling their courage, the twins practically dragged themselves up to Sylusās private office.
Knocking hesitantly, they entered to find their leader looking uncharacteristically annoyed.
"What is it?" Sylus bartered, his deep voice dripping with irritation. "If this isn't important, I suggest you turn around."
"Boss..." Luke squeaked, swallowing hard. "It's about her. We... we figured out why she's giving you the silent treatment."
Sylus paused, setting his glass down with a soft click.
He leaned back, his imposing frame casting a long shadow. "Enlighten me. I haven't the slightest idea what minor inconvenience has caused her to freeze me out for three days."
"It wasn't a minor inconvenience, Boss," Kieran said, his voice dropping to a somber, genuine tone. "Three days ago... it was her birthday."
Sylusās gaze sharpened, a sudden, cold prickle of alertness hitting him. Her birthday.
"And," Luke added, wincing as he prepared for the impact, "you spent the entire evening at that high-end restaurant in the central district... treating the Deepspace Hunter girl to dinner after her mission. You forgot, Boss. You completely forgot her birthday for someone else."
The silence that followed was deafening.
For a second, Sylus didn't move.
Then, the realization crashed over him, brutal and unyielding.
The memories of three days ago flashed in his mind: he had been caught up in Onychinus business, dealing with the Hunter organization, and had casually treated the MC to a meal to finalize an information exchange.
He had thought nothing of it. It was transactional.
But to you.
You had sat in this penthouse, alone, on the one day that belonged to you, watching the clock tick away while the man you loved was out celebrating with another woman.
You hadn't thrown a fit. You hadn't demanded his attention.
You had simply realized where you supposedly stood in his hierarchy, and you had broken in silence.
Sylus stood up so fast his chair skidded across the floor.
The air in the room grew heavy, his dangerous aura flaring, but for the first time, it wasn't born out of anger toward an enemy; it was pure, unadulterated self-loathing.
"Get out," he commanded the twins, his voice dangerously low.
They didn't need to be told twice, vanishing instantly.
Sylus strode down the hall, his boots echoing heavily until he reached your shared bedroom.
He didn't knock.
He pushed the door open to find you sitting by the expansive window, looking out over the neon-lit chaos of the N109 Zone.
You looked so small.
Your Evol flickered weakly around your fingertips, a sad, dim glow that mirrored the exhaustion in your eyes.
When he entered, you didn't look up.
You didn't even flinch.
Sylus closed the distance between you in seconds.
He dropped to one knee in front of your chair, a position the proud, ruthless leader of Onychinus never assumed for anyone.
But right now, he would have crawled on his knees if it meant fixing the hollow look in your eyes.
"Kitten," he murmured, his voice rough, stripped of its usual mocking playfulness. It was thick with a heavy, grounding desperation.
He reached out to cup your cheek, but you subtly flinched, tilting your head away from his touch.
The rejection cut through him cleaner than any Resonator blade ever could.
His hand hovered in the air for a fraction of a second before he let it drop to your knee, gripping you gently but firmly, refusing to let you completely drift away.
"Look at me. Please."
You slowly turned your gaze to him.
Your eyes were red-rimmed, dull, and entirely devoid of the affection that usually shielded you when you looked at him.
"Are you done with your business, Sylus?" you asked, your voice a quiet, fragile whisper. "Because if you are, I'd like to sleep. I'm tired."
"I am a fool," he said bluntly, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that burned.
He didn't make excuses.
He didn't blame the N109 Zone, or business, or the Hunter.
He took the blade entirely on his own chest. "I forgot. I let the days bleed together and I failed you in the worst way possible. There is no defense for what I did."
A stray tear finally slipped down your cheek, and this time, he didn't give you the chance to pull away.
His large, warm hand gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing the tear away with an agonizingly tender touch.
"Seeing you like this... it's a punishment I deserve, but I won't let you sit here and believe for a single second that you don't matter to me," he growled softly, his forehead leaning forward to rest against yours.
The proximity allowed you to feel the frantic, heavy thudding of his heart. "The girl from the association means nothing. It was business. But you... you are my entire world, and I neglected you on the day I should have been celebrating your existence."
"It hurt, Sylus," you whispered, your voice cracking as the wall of silence finally crumbled, letting the raw grief spill out. "I waited. I even made something for us. And then I heard where you were. With her. On my birthday."
Hearing the pain in your voice made something wild and feral tear at his chest.
Sylus wrapped his powerful arms around your waist, lifting you effortlessly from the chair and pulling you into his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed.
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, holding you so tightly it was as if he were trying to fuse your souls back together.
"I know. I'm sorry. I will spend every day making it up to you," he murmured against your skin, his hands tracing soothing patterns up and down your back, trying to ground your erratic, sorrowful Evol. "Cry, scream at me, tear this entire penthouse apart with your power if it makes you feel better. Just don't shut me out. Don't look at me like I'm a stranger."
You buried your face in his shoulder, your fingers fistting into his dark coat as you finally let the tears flow.
Sylus held you through it all, unmoving, a solid, unwavering fortress for your grief.
He kissed your temple, your hair, whispering dark, fierce promises of devotion into the quiet room.
He didn't just stop at an apology.
Over the next week, Sylus completely locked down his schedule.
The N109 Zone could have burned to the ground for all he cared.
He practically showered you in everything you could ever want, but more importantly, he gave you his undivided, suffocating attention.
He brought you rare, beautiful artifacts that resonated with your Evol, helping you strengthen it.
He personally cooked your favorite meals, standing in the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up, looking entirely out of place but completely focused on making you happy.
He filled the penthouse with your favorite flowers, and every single night, he held you close, his heartbeat a constant, steady rhythm assuring you that he wasn't going anywhere.
One evening, as you sat on the balcony wrapped in his heavy coat, sipping warm tea he had prepared, Sylus stepped out behind you.
He slid his arms around your waist, pulling your back flush against his broad chest. He placed a small, velvet box in your hand.
Opening it, you found a breathtaking, custom-made ring, embedded with a rare Aether core that pulsed beautifully with the exact frequency of your Evol.
"A reminder," Sylus murmured, kissing the shell of your ear, his voice deep and fiercely possessive. "That you own me. My time, my heart, my existence, it belongs to you, Kitten. Never doubt your place by my side again. If I ever slip up, remind me of my place. But I promise you, I will never forget again."
Feeling the warmth of his chest and the fierce, protective love radiating from him, your Evol finally flared to life, bright and harmonious, weaving perfectly with his dark energy.
You turned in his arms, looking up at him, and for the first time in days, a genuine, soft smile graced your lips.
"I'll hold you to that, Sylus."
A dark, relieved smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep, burning kiss. "Good. I'd expect nothing less."
Fragile
MASTERLIST || CHARACTER M. LIST
One Shot
Pairing: Rafayel x Non Mc Reader
Summary: When a spike of jealousy drives you from his studio, the dramatic and fiercely devoted Lemurian makes it unapologetically clear that no ancient destiny or fated bond could ever steal his heart from you.
Word Count:
Warnings + Tags: Fluff | Slight Angst | Possesiveness | Teasing | Self - doubt | Playful | Jealousy | Smugness | Romantic | Happy Ending
The Lemurian artistās atelier was usually a sanctuary of controlled chaos, splatters of ultramarine on the hardwood floor, unfinished canvases leaning against the walls, and the scent of sea salt and turpentine heavy in the air.
But today, the air felt suffocatingly crowded.
You sat on the plush velvet sofa in the corner of Rafayelās studio, a sketchbook open on your lap, though you hadn't drawn a single line in an hour.
Your eyes were fixed on the center of the room.
Rafayel was leaning over a desk, analyzing a set of ancient ruin photos.
Standing right next to him, close enough for their shoulders to brush, was her.
The Deepspace Hunter.
The one everyone in Linkon City talked about.
The girl who shared a mysterious, fated bond with him, who fought Core crises by his side, and who seemed to command his attention effortlessly.
"Look at this layout, Rafayel," she said, pointing to a map. "The flux pattern matches the symbols in your painting."
"Ah, so it does," Rafayel murmured, tilting his head. He flashed that radiant, familiar smile the one that usually made your heart skip a beat.
"You actually noticed? Maybe your eyes are good for something other than shooting wanderers after all."
She laughed, giving him a playful shove. Rafayel caught his balance, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
A sharp, cold knot twisted in your stomach.
It wasn't that you hated her; she was brave, brilliant, and undeniably important.
But watching them together made you feel like an outsider in a world where they spoke a secret language you would never understand.
You were just a normal woman.
You didn't have an Evol that could shatter mountains, and you didn't have a destiny intertwined with the tides.
Quietly, you closed your sketchbook, stood up, and slipped out of the studio door.
You just needed air.
Inside, the playful atmosphere evaporated the moment the heavy oak door clicked shut.
Rafayelās gaze immediately snapped to the empty sofa.
The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by an instant, sharp spike of anxiety.
He looked at the door, then back at the Hunter.
The casual, teasing demeanor he always wore like armor was gone in a flash.
"Rafayel? Are you listening?" she asked, noticing his sudden distraction.
"I need you to leave," Rafayel said, his voice dropping its usual sing-song cadence, becoming suddenly serious, almost fiercely protective.
The Hunter blinked, taken aback. "What? We're right in the middle of analyzingā"
"It can wait," he interrupted, already stepping away from the desk, his fingers anxiously tracing the edge of his paint palette.
"I don't care about the ruins right now. I care about her. Did you see her face? She looked... heartbroken. Because of me."
"She knows we're just working, right?"
"It doesn't matter," Rafayel said, his voice softening, but filled with an intense, unyielding devotion.
"She is my entire world. Every brushstroke I make, every breath I take in this city, itās all for her. I don't ever want her to feel like she has to compete for my space, or that anyone even a fated bond, even the ocean itself could ever take her place. I love her. Completely, desperately. So please, we're done for today."
Realizing the depth of his emotion, the Hunter raised her hands in defeat, a sympathetic smile on her face. "Alright, alright. Go get your girl, artist."
You were leaning against the stone railing of the balcony, looking out over the glittering Linkon City coastline, when a warm, familiar presence enveloped you from behind.
Before you could turn around, a pair of slender, paint-stained arms wrapped securely around your waist.
A chin rested heavily on your shoulder, and a soft, dramatic sigh brushed against your neck.
"You're cruel," Rafayel whined, his voice a velvety, petulant pout right in your ear.
"Just walking out on me like that? Without a word? Do you know how fragile an artist's heart is? Itās practically shattering into a million pieces right now."
"Rafayel, stop," you whispered, trying to pull away, but his grip only tightened, pulling you flush against his chest.
"I won't," he muttered, his playful tone dropping into something incredibly tender.
He turned his head, pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin just beneath your ear. "Why did you leave, hm? Tell me."
"You were busy," you said, looking down at your hands.
"With her. You two have so much to talk about... so much history. I just felt like I was in the way."
Rafayel went completely still.
Then, gently but firmly, he turned you around in his arms so you were forced to look at him.
His violet eyes, usually dancing with mischief, were dark and brimming with an overwhelming sincerity that made your breath catch.
"Look at me," he commanded softly, cupping your face in his warm palms.
His thumbs brushed over your cheeks.
"There is no 'history' in the world that matters more to me than my present with you. Do you really think some ancient destiny could ever compete with how I feel when I look at you?"
"But she'sā"
"She is a business partner. A friend. A means to an end," Rafayel insisted, his gaze burning into yours with a fierce, absolute certainty.
"But you... you are my muse. You are the only one who anchors me to this earth. If you walk out of a room, the colors go with you. I don't care about the deep sea, or the stars, or anything else if you aren't by my side. I told her exactly that before I kicked her out."
You blinked, your heart hammering against your ribs. "You kicked her out?"
"Of course I did!" Rafayel huffed, his dramatic flair returning as he puffed out his chest.
"The great Rafayel does not allow anyone to make his favorite person sad. I told her I love you, that you are my entire life, and that she was ruining my atmosphere. She practically fled in terror."
A small, involuntary laugh escaped your lips, the heavy weight in your chest dissolving instantly under his fierce reassurance.
Seeing your smile, Rafayelās expression shifted.
The intense, desperate lover vanished, replaced instantly by a sly, wicked smirk.
His eyes gleamed with pure, unadulterated mischief.
"Wait a minute..." He leaned in close, his nose brushing against yours, a teasing purr in his voice. "Were you... jealous?"
"I was not," you lied, heating up instantly and trying to push him away.
"Oh, you were!" Rafayel gasped cutely, clapping his hands together as he blocked your escape, trapping you against the railing.
"The fierce, independent girl was actually green with envy over a few silly old papers! Ah, my heart can't take it. You love me that much? You want me all to yourself?"
"Rafayel, shut up," you blushed furiously, hiding your face in your hands.
"No, I don't think I will," he laughed, a melodious, beautiful sound.
He gently pulled your hands away from your face, pinning your wrists loosely beside you, his eyes locked onto your lips.
"If I knew a little jealousy would make you look at me with such fierce passion, I would have invited a whole crowd of hunters over. You're so cute when you're possessive."
"I am going to throw you into the ocean," you threatened, though there was no heat behind it.
"Oh, please do," Rafayel whispered, his voice dropping to a seductive, breathless murmur as he closed the final distance between you.
"As long as you dive in right after me to claim what's yours."
And before you could retort, he captured your lips in a deep, breathless kiss, sealing away every last bit of doubt with the fiery, possessive warmth of his touch.
Ambush
MASTERLIST || CHARACTER M.LIST
One Shot
Pairing: Caleb x Non-MC Reader
Summary: When a routine mission ends in an ambush. Caleb abandons his post terrified by the reality of almost losing the person who holds his heart.
Word Count:
Warnings + Tags: Emotional Distress | Injury | Panic | Angst ? to Comfort | Helplessness | Ambush | Scared Caleb
I highlighted a line in this, I genuinely loved it so much so I had to.
The air in the command center was usually thick with the hum of servers and the low, disciplined murmurs of strategists.
For Caleb, it was just another Tuesday.
He was reviewing coordinates on a holographic map, his expression calm, grounded, and entirely focused.
Then, the comms channel didn't just beep; it shattered the quiet with a high-priority override signal.
"All units, be advised. Deepspace Hunter squad Echo-4 has sustained heavy casualties in the Akso ruins. Wanderer activity was underestimated. Medical evac is en route."
Calebās hand froze mid-air. Echo-4.
Your squad.
The tablet in his grip groaned under the sudden, involuntary pressure of his fingers. For a fraction of a second, the steady, reliable commander vanished, replaced by a man whose entire world had just suffered a seismic shift.
He didn't ask for permission.
He handed his data pad to a stunned subordinate, his voice dropping to a dangerously quiet, commanding tone.
"Prep my jet. Now."
The flight back was an agonizing blur of gray clouds and suffocating silence.
Caleb spent the entire trip staring at his reflection in the dark glass, his mind racing through a gallery of worst-case scenarios.
He knew the risks of being a Hunter, he lived them every day and much worse.
But knowing the risks did absolutely nothing to dull the sharp, terrifying edge of realization that you were vulnerable. That he hadn't been there to step between you and the danger.
By the time he threw open the doors to the central hospital, the smell of antiseptic and ozone hit him like a physical blow.
He moved through the corridors with an intense, quiet urgency that made the nursing staff scatter out of his way.
When he finally pushed open the door to your room, the sudden silence of the space caught in his throat.
You were propped up against the pillows, looking frustratingly small beneath the stark white hospital blankets.
Bandages wrapped tightly around your shoulder and forearm, and a faint, purplish bruise was blooming along your jawline.
You looked exhausted, pale, and thoroughly battered but you were breathing.
You were alive.
At the sound of the door, you turned your head, offering him a tired, slightly guilty smile. "Hey," you croaked, your voice rough. "You're back early."
Caleb didn't answer right away.
He just stood at the foot of the bed, his broad shoulders rising and falling with a heavy, ragged exhale.
The sheer relief that washed over him was so potent it made him look almost angry.
He closed the distance between you in two long strides, but as he reached for you, his hands levitated in the air, trembling slightly, terrified of hurting you further.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.
He finally let his hand settle gently on the uninjured side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone with an aching tenderness.
"They told me Echo-4 got ambushed. They told me..." He swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence.
"It was just a rogue Class-S," you tried to downplay it, wincing slightly as you shifted. "We handled it. I just... took a bad hit protecting the extraction point."
Calebās eyes darkened, a flash of fierce protectiveness flaring in his gaze before dissolving back into pure, raw worry. He carefully sat on the edge of the mattress, leaning down until his forehead rested gently against yours.
You could feel the heat radiating from him, could hear the frantic, uneven rhythm of his heart.
"Don't do that," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.
"Don't 'just' it to me. When I heard the broadcast... when they said your squad took heavy hits and I was half a province away... I've never felt so useless in my entire life."
He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that laid his soul completely bare.
Caleb was always the steady anchor, the one who cooked your favorite meals, joked about your stubbornness, and kept you grounded.
But right now, he looked entirely undone by the thought of losing you.
"I know it's your job," he murmured, his fingers wrapping with delicate, fierce certainty around your uninjured hand, squeezing it just enough to feel your pulse.
"And I know how strong you are. But you have to remember... you're carrying my heart out there with you. If you break, I break too."
You softened, sliding your fingers through his, leaning into his touch. "I'm sorry I scared you, Caleb. I'm okay. I'm right here."
He let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension finally beginning to drain from his frame.
He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, right at your hairline, holding you close as if trying to shield you from the rest of the world.
"You're grounded," he muttered against your skin, a faint, familiar trace of his playful warmth finally returning to his voice, though his grip remained tight.
"As soon as they discharge you, I'm locking the doors, making soup, and you're not leaving the couch for a week. Deal?"
You couldn't help but chuckle, a sound that made his chest ache with profound, overwhelming gratitude.
"Deal."
Winter
MASTERLIST || CHARACTER M.LIST
One Shot
Pairing: Zayne x Non-MC Reader
Summary: During night shift at Akso Hospital, Dr. Zayne finds a rare, grounding sanctuary in the quiet warmth of your presence.
Word Count:
Warnings + Tags: Fluff | Established Connection | Comfort | Softness | Slow Intimacy | Emotional | Sweet
The steady, methodical rhythm of the cardiac monitor is a sound that Dr. Zayne, has gotten use to.
It was a predictable cadence in a world that was often chaotic, a reassurance that life was maintaining its steady, stubborn march.
But tonight, the silence of his office at Akso Hospital felt heavier than usual.
The neon glow of the Linkon City skyline bled through the floor-to-ceiling glass, casting long, sharp shadows across his desk.
He leaned back, his fingers tracing the edge of a medical tablet, his gaze drifting not to the charts, but to the empty space across from him.
You werenāt his patient.
You werenāt an Evol hunter risking your life in the deepspace rifts, nor were you someone tied to the complex, dangerous web of his past.
You were, by all accounts, a beautifully ordinary part of his otherwise structured universe, someone who had stumbled into his life by sheer coincidence, yet managed to anchor him more deeply than he cared to admit.
A soft knock broke the quiet.
Zayne didnāt need to look at the clock to know it was past midnight.
He didnāt need to ask who it was, either.
The hesitant rhythm of the knock belonged to only one person.
"Come in," he said, his voice deep, carrying that familiar, cool composure that usually kept the rest of the world at a distance.
The door pushed open, and you stepped into the room, carrying a paper bag that smelled faintly of cinnamon and roasted coffee bean tea.
You looked tired, the exhaustion of your own day visible in the slight slump of your shoulders, but the moment your eyes met his, a warm, genuine smile broke across your face.
"I figured youād still be here," you said softly, closing the door behind you to shut out the white noise of the hospital corridor.
"You always forget to eat when you're reviewing surgical reports."
Zayneās expression didn't dramatically change, he was a man who wore his emotions behind a professional calm but the sharp, guarded edge in his eyes melted instantly.
The subtle tension in his shoulders unraveled.
"You shouldn't be out this late," he chided gently, though there was no real bite to his words.
He stood up, stepping around the grand mahogany desk. "Linkon City isn't exactly hospitable after midnight."
"I knew you were here. That makes it safe enough," you replied easily, setting the bag down on his desk and pulling out a warm pastry and a thermal flask.
Zayne stopped a few inches away from you.
Up close, he could see the faint dark circles under your eyes.
A sudden, sharp pang of protectiveness flared in his chest, a feeling he often tried to rationalize as a doctor's concern, though he knew it was entirely, helplessly personal.
He reached out, his long fingers hesitating for a fraction of a second before he brushed a stray lock of hair away from your forehead.
His touch was cool, a constant reminder of the ice Evol coursing through his veins, but to you, it felt incredibly grounding.
"You look more exhausted than my residents," Zayne murmured, his thumb lightly tracing the line of your jaw. "Who is looking after you while you're busy worrying about me?"
"I can handle myself, Dr. Zayne," you teased, leaning slightly into his cold palm, unbothered by the chill.
In fact, you welcomed it. It was uniquely him.
A rare, faint smile tugged at the corner of Zayneās lips.
It was a fleeting thing, the kind of smile he reserved exclusively for you, hidden away from the rest of the world.
"Is that so?" He lowered his hand, but he didn't step back.
The proximity between you felt deliberate, a shared quietude that neither of you wanted to break. "Then sit down. If you're going to force me to take a break, you're joining me."
You gladly took the seat across from his desk, watching as he poured the jasmine tea.
He moved with a practiced, elegant precision, yet there was a softness to his movements now that only appeared when the white coat was metaphorically shed.
He handed you the cup first, ensuring your hands wrapped around the warmth before he took his own.
For a long time, neither of you spoke.
You didn't need to fill the void with meaningless chatter.
With Zayne, silence was never awkward; it was a sanctuary.
He spent his days fighting life-and-death battles, listening to the fragile heartbeats of humanity.
With you, he didn't have to be the infallible surgeon or the powerful Evol user.
He could just breathe.
"The snow is supposed to start early this year," Zayne said quietly, breaking the silence as he looked out at the city.
His dark eyes reflected the distant lights, looking deep and unfathomable.
"Do you like the snow?" you asked, cradling your tea.
Zayne turned his gaze back to you. T
here was a profound, bittersweet depth in his eyes a weight born from a lifetime of freezing things to keep them from breaking, of watching the world turn cold around him.
"I used to think it was just a reminder of isolation," he admitted, his voice dropping an octave, raw and honest. "A force that numbs everything it touches."
He paused, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. He reached across the desk, his bare hand covering yours where it rested against the warm porcelain of the cup.
"But lately, when it snows, I find myself wondering if you're wrapped up warmly enough. I find myself wanting to be the one to keep the cold away from you."
The admission was quiet, but it carried the immense weight of a man who rarely spoke of his own desires.
Zayne was someone who gave everything to his duty, leaving very little for himself. Yet, in the quiet of his office, under the cover of the night, he was giving you the most vulnerable pieces of his heart.
You shifted your hand, slipping your fingers between his, squeezing gently. "You don't have to worry, Zayne. Your hands might be cold, but you aren't. Not to me."
Zayne looked down at your intertwined fingers.
The contrast was stark the slight flush of life in your skin against the pale, cool touch of his.
A soft, breathless sigh escaped him, a sound of pure surrender.
"You are incredibly foolish," he whispered, though his grip on your hand tightened, refusing to let go.
"Giving your warmth to an ice doctor."
"Maybe I just have some to spare," you replied softly slightly teasing him.
Zayne didn't answer with words.
Instead, he stood up, guiding you to stand with him.
Pulling you gently into his space, he wrapped his arms around you, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
He held you tightly, as if anchoring himself to the only solid, unchanging thing in his turbulent world.
You could feel the steady, strong beat of his heart against your chest, a rhythm that, for the first time that night, felt perfectly at peace.
"Stay a little longer," Zayne murmured against your skin, his breath a warm contrast to his cool touch. "Just until the city wakes up."
Right With You
MASTERLIST || CHARACTER M.LIST
One shot
Pairing: Diluc Ragnvindr x Fem!Reader
Summary: When petty jealousy threatens to sour the quiet sanctity of their secret marriage, Mondstadtās unyielding master of Dawn Winery burns away the rumors with an unforgettable public declaration of his devotion.
Word Count: 8.5k (whoops)
Warnings + Tags: Fluff | Established Marriage | Fluff | Comfort | Softness | Heavy Jealousy (from Donna) | Rumors | Protective Diluc | Protective Brother-in-Law Kaeya | PDA | Sweet Revenge | Public Confession | Public Marriage | Kaeya being a menace as always
The morning sun over Mondstadt always seemed to catch the crest of Starfell Valley first, pouring like liquid amber over the cider-scented orchards of the Dawn Winery.
It was a quiet sort of beauty, the kind that didnāt demand an audience but simply existed, grounding and immense.
Inside the manor, the atmosphere was much the same.
You sat at the long, polished oak table in the dining room, the crest of the Ragnvindr clan catching the early light from the high arched windows.
A cup of black tea steamed faintly beside your plate, the scent of bergamot mingling with the rich, earthy aroma of the breakfast Elzer had just laid out.
From the doorway, the soft, rhythmic click of leather boots signaled his approach.
You didnāt need to look up to know the precise cadence of Dilucās step.
It was a march born of years of discipline, yet whenever he entered a room where you sat, that rigid pace invariably softened, rounding at the edges until it was nothing more than a gentle glide.
Diluc paused behind your chair, his gloved hand coming to rest lightly on the carved wooden back. With his other hand, he reached down, his long, pale fingers gently tucking a stray lock of your hair behind your ear.
His touch was warm, always so incredibly warm, a silent testament to the Pyro Vision that rested against his coat but it was also remarkably tender.
To the rest of Teyvat, Diluc Ragnvindr was a man of iron and ash, a silent protector who wore a permanent scowl and carried the weight of Mondstadtās sins on his broad shoulders.
But here, within the private sanctuary of the winery, surrounded by the staff who had known him since childhood, he was simply yours.
"Did you sleep well?" his voice was a low, gravelly rumble, rich and soothing in the quiet of the morning.
"I did," you replied, tilting your head back to look up at him.
A small, soft smile graced your lips as you reached up to cup his cheek.
His skin was rough from years of handling claymores and reins, but he melted into your palm, his eyelids fluttering shut for a brief, sacred second.
"Though the bed felt a bit empty after dawn."
Diluc leaned down, pressing a lingering, warm kiss to your forehead. "I had paperwork to review with Elzer regarding the summer vintage. I didnāt wish to wake you."
Across the room, Adeline stood by the sideboard, a silver teapot in hand.
A knowing, deeply affectionate smile softened her features as she watched the two of you.
She had seen Diluc through his darkest, most turbulent years, the years of grief, of self-imposed exile, of bitter isolation.
To see him now, anchored so completely by your presence, his sharp edges thoroughly blunted by the sheer depth of his love for you, brought a quiet joy to her heart.
"Master Diluc, the carriage is being prepared for your trip into the city," Adeline murmured, her tone respectful yet warm. "And forgive me, Lady Ragnvindr, your dynamic with the Knightsā logistics team is scheduled for early afternoon, is it not?"
You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Adeline, please. Just my name is fine. And yes, Jean asked if I could assist with the inventory of the elemental reserves. With the Stormterror aftermath still causing minor anomalies, she wants an extra Vision holder on site."
Dilucās eyes flicked down to your hip, where your own Vision rested, glinting softly in the morning light.
A subtle, protective tighten crossed his jaw, though it vanished as quickly as it came.
He trusted your strength implicitly. You were a formidable fighter in your own right, an equal partner who could stand back-to-back with him in the dead of night against an abyss pack without flinching.
His protectiveness wasn't a doubt of your capabilities; it was simply the natural law of his universe.
He loved you, and therefore, the world was a threat to be managed.
"I will be at the tavern by nightfall," Diluc said, his hand sliding down to your shoulder, giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze. "If your duties wrap up early, come find me at the Angelās Share. We can ride back together."
"It's a date," you teased softly.
He didn't smirk, but the corners of his eyes crinkled a rare expression that only you ever truly witnessed.
To the world outside these stone walls, you were a dedicated ally of the winery, a capable Vision user, and a dear, trusted friend of Diluc Ragnvindr.
When the two of you had married a year ago, it had been a quiet affair, held in the estateās private chapel with only Adeline, Elzer, and a profoundly smug Kaeya in attendance.
It wasn't that you were hiding your love; it was simply that neither you nor Diluc felt the need to perform your marriage for the court of public opinion.
You didn't hold hands in the streets of Mondstadt; you didn't exchange sweet nothings over the counter at the Good Hunter.
You walked side by side, equals, autonomous and private.
If anyone asked, neither of you lied. But Mondstadt was a city of gossip, and when people didn't see grand gestures, dramatic declarations, or a woman dangling off the winery master's arm, they assumed what they pleased.
To the average citizen, you were just an exceptionally close confidante. A brilliant friend.
And that suited you both perfectly. But privacy, you would soon remember, often left room for the imaginative malice of those who envied what they could not understand.
The afternoon air in Mondstadt was crisp, carrying the scent of dandelions and fresh bread from Sarahās ovens.
You walked down the stone steps from the Knights of Favonius headquarters, stretching your shoulders after hours of cataloging elemental crystals with Lisa.
Your Vision hummed with a faint, resonant energy, responding to the ambient elemental flow of the city.
As you made your way past the flower shop, intending to head toward the plaza, a sharp, carrying voice cut through the midday bustle.
"Oh, look who it is. I swear, some people simply don't know when they are overstaying their welcome."
You paused, turning your head slightly. Standing near the city gates, leaning against a crate of goods, was Donna.
Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her lips curled into a sneer that looked entirely out of place on her usually bright face.
A couple of other townspeople stood nearby, shifting uncomfortably under her intense, venomous gaze.
You blinked, genuinely caught off guard. "Good afternoon, Donna. Is something the matter?"
"Is something the matter?" Donna scoffed, taking a step toward you, her heels clicking sharply against the cobblestones. "You have a lot of nerve acting so innocent. Everyone in the city sees it, you know. The way you constantly hover around the Dawn Winery. The way you practically force yourself into Master Dilucās schedule."
You stared at her, utterly bewildered. "I work closely with the winery on elemental defense and trade routes, Donna. Itās matters of business."
"Business! Is that what you call it when you follow him around like a stray dog?" Donnaās voice rose, deliberately drawing the attention of passing citizens.
A few merchants turned to look; a pair of Knights on patrol slowed their pace. "You think just because you have a Vision, you're somehow special? Youāre just a commoner clinging to his coattails, desperately trying to climb the social ladder. Itās pathetic, really. Master Diluc is a nobleman of highest caliber. Heās far too polite and well-bred to tell you to your face that you're an annoying nuisance, but itās obvious to everyone else."
A low, collective murmur passed through the small crowd that had gathered.
Some looked sympathetic toward you, while others, fueled by the natural human appetite for scandal, began to whisper among themselves.
Is she really clinging to him? Well, they do spend an awful lot of time together... and Master Diluc never did seem the type to tolerate idle company.
You felt a prickle of annoyance, but you kept your composure.
You didn't need to defend your honor to Donna; the ring tucked safely on a silver chain beneath your shirt pressed warmly against your collarbone, a solid, unshakeable truth.
"Donna," you said, your voice calm, steady, and entirely devoid of the anger she was trying to provoke. "I assure you, Master Diluc is entirely capable of expressing his discomfort if he had any. My presence at the winery is welcomed."
"Welcomed? Keep telling yourself that!" Donna spat, her eyes flashing with a desperate, bitter jealousy.
For months, she had watched you slip in and out of the winery gates, had seen you walking beside the man of her dreams.
She had convinced herself that you were an opportunist, a parasite exploiting Diluc's solitary nature. "You're just a parasite. A desperate, clinging little girl who thinks a shiny glass orb on her hip makes her worthy of a Ragnvindr. You don't belong near him. You're nothing to him."
Before you could even open your mouth to reply, a long, dark shadow fell over the cobblestones between you and Donna.
"My, my. What an incredibly loud performance for such a quiet afternoon."
The smooth, theatrical drawl was instantly recognizable.
From around the corner of the alchemy station stepped Kaeya, his single eye gleaming with a dangerous, icy amusement.
His hand rested casually on the pommel of his sword, his posture relaxed, yet there was a distinct, predatory sharpness to the air the moment he arrived.
Donna paled slightly, stepping back. "Captain Kaeya! I-I was just... I was just pointing out the truth. Sheās always bothering Master Diluc, and-"
"And since when did the logistics of the Ragnvindr estate become the civic duty of a floral assistant?" Kaeya interrupted, his smile never reaching his eye. He walked over, deliberately stepping into your space, his arm coming around your shoulders in a loose, protective, brotherly drape.
He looked down at you, his expression softening into genuine fondness. "Are you alright, little lady? Did the bad weather wash up some refuse?"
"I'm fine, Kaeya," you sighed, though you appreciated the warmth of his presence.
Over the past year, Kaeya had firmly established himself as a fiercely protective, albeit incredibly teasing, older brother figure to you.
He might have a fractured relationship with Diluc, but when it came to you, Kaeya was fiercely, uncompromisingly loyal.
Kaeya turned his gaze back to Donna, the temperature in the immediate vicinity seeming to drop by several degrees.
"Letās clear something up, shall we? The lady you are so carelessly slandering happens to hold a position of utmost respect within the Knights' strategic network. Furthermore..." His grin widened, flashing a row of white teeth.
"If Master Diluc found her presence 'bothering,' he wouldn't be the one constantly ensuring her favorite tea is imported directly from Liyue just to keep her comfortable at his table. So, unless you want me to write up a formal report for public disturbance and harassment of a Knights' liaison... I suggest you take your flowers and your fascinating theories somewhere else."
Donna choked on her breath, her face flushing a deep, humiliated red.
She cast one last, hateful look at you before turning on her heel and storming off toward the flower shop, her hands trembling with rage.
The crowd dispersed quickly under Kaeyaās sharp, lingering gaze. Once the street was relatively clear, Kaeya dropped his arm from your shoulder, letting out a soft sigh as he looked down at you.
"You let people trample over you too much," he chided gently, though his voice held no real bite. "You could have flattened her with your Vision in three seconds flat."
"And cause a scene? Diluc hates scenes," you reasoned, smoothing down your coat. "Besides, her words don't change the truth. Let her think what she wants."
Kaeya shook his head, a complex emotion flitting across his face. "You and Diluc... I swear, the two of you are stubborn to a fault. This whole 'private romance' bit is all well and good, but it leaves the door wide open for fools like Donna to think they have a chance, or worse, to drag your name through the mud. Diluc would burn Mondstadt to the ground if he knew she spoke to you like that."
"Then let's not tell him," you said softly, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "He has enough on his plate with the Abyss Order activity near the Wolvendom borders. He doesn't need to waste his energy on town gossip."
Kaeya stared at you for a long moment, before letting out a defeated, amused chuckle. He reached out, rustling your hair affectionately. "You're too good for him, you know that? But fine. I won't say a word.
Just... be careful. Jealousy makes people do incredibly stupid things."
As it turned out, Kaeyaās warning was entirely prophetic.
A few days later, a grand celebration was held in Mondstadt.
The Knights of Favonius had successfully cleared out a massive hilichurl camp that had been blocking the main trade routes from Liyue, and the acting Grand Master had declared a night of festivity to boost morale.
The entire city was alive with light, laughter, and the heavy scent of Barbatosās favored brew.
The Angelās Share was packed to the brim.
Every table was occupied, the wooden rafter echoing with the loud choruses of bards and the clinking of heavy beer mugs.
Diluc stood behind the bar, his expression as impassive as ever as he poured drinks with practiced, flawless efficiency.
He wore his usual high-collared vest, his fiery red hair tied back in a neat ponytail.
Despite the chaos of the crowded tavern, his eyes continuously tracked a single point in the room: you.
You were sitting at a table near the corner, laughing softly as Venti spun a ridiculous, entirely fabricated yarn about a dragon and a giant dandelion.
Beside you, Kaeya was nursing a glass of Death After Noon, his eyes occasionally scanning the room with quiet vigilance.
"Master Diluc!"
Dilucās gaze snapped back to the bar counter.
Standing there, leaning heavily against the polished wood, was Donna. She had clearly had a bit to drink, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glassy, though fixed on him with an intense, desperate focus.
"A glass of your finest white wine, please," she purred, trying to pitch her voice lower, trying to emulate the sophisticated ladies she read about in novels.
Diluc didn't utter a word.
He simply reached for a clean glass, poured the requested wine, and slid it across the counter to her, already turning away to wipe down a tap.
"Master Diluc, wait," Donna called out, her hand reaching out across the wood, nearly catching the sleeve of his coat.
Diluc subtly stepped back, entirely out of her reach, his eyes narrowing into a cold, flat stare.
Undeterred by his icy demeanor, Donna leaned in closer, her voice carrying over the din of the tavern to the surrounding patrons. "I... I just wanted to say how much everyone appreciates you hosting these events. You are always so hardworking, so noble.
It must be so exhausting... especially with certain people constantly draining your time and resources."
Dilucās hand paused on the towel. "What are you referring to?"
Donna took his response as an invitation, her eyes lighting up with a cruel, triumphant gleam.
She glanced pointedly over her shoulder toward your table. "Oh, you know. There are rumors all over the city about how some people take advantage of your generosity. Always hanging around the winery, acting like they belong there, using their Vision as an excuse to get close to your wealth and status. Itās disgusting, really. Someone like you deserves a woman who truly understands high society, someone who values you for you, not just your name."
The immediate area around the bar went dead silent.
Six-Fingered JosƩ stopped strumming his lyre a few paces away.
Several patrons lowered their mugs, sensing the sudden, suffocating drop in atmospheric pressure.
Diluc did not blink.
His crimson eyes fixed onto Donna with a terrifying, absolute stillness.
The heat radiating off him became palpable, a heavy, oppressive warmth that made Donnaās breath hitch in her throat.
"Is that so?" Dilucās voice was dangerously quiet, a low hiss of embers before a wildfire.
"Y-yes!" Donna stammered, emboldened by her own delusion. "Everyone thinks so! Sheās just a clinging, desperate nobody whoās dragging down your reputation. You should just ban her from the estate, Master Diluc. You don't need that kind of dead weightā"
"Donna."
The name slipped from his lips like a sentence from a judge.
Diluc slowly placed the towel down on the counter.
He didn't raise his voice, but the sheer command in his tone cut through the entire tavern, silencing even the rowdy tables in the back.
"You are speaking of my wife."
The words dropped like a claymore splitting a boulder.
Donna froze, her eyes widening to the size of saucers. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. "W... W-wife...?"
Across the room, you raised your eyebrows, a quiet sigh escaping your lips.
You had hoped to avoid a scene, but looking at the absolute fury vibrating beneath Dilucās calm exterior, you knew there was no stopping him now.
Kaeya, on the other hand, let out a loud, delighted bark of laughter, leaning back in his chair with a thoroughly entertained grin.
Diluc walked out from behind the bar counter.
He didn't spare Donna another glance as he crossed the floor of the tavern.
Every single eye in the establishment followed him as he made his way directly to your corner table.
As he approached, you stood up, a soft, apologetic smile on your face. "Diluc, you didn't have to-"
Before you could finish your sentence, Diluc reached out. His large, warm hand cupped the back of your neck, his fingers tangling into your hair with an intense, possessive gentleness.
He pulled you to him, and without a single shred of hesitation, he leaned down and pressed his lips firmly against yours.
It wasn't a chaste, polite kiss.
It was deep, breath-stealing, and heavy with a profound, unyielding adoration. It was the kiss of a man who was utterly consumed by the woman in his arms, a declaration made in the language of fire and absolute devotion.
Your Vision pulsed in tandem with his, a warm, harmonious light flaring briefly between you.
The tavern erupted.
Cheered, gasps, and the slamming of mugs against wood shook the rafters. Venti clapped his hands with glee, while Patton near the door looked like he might faint from sheer shock.
When Diluc finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a brief second.
His breathing was slightly shallow, his eyes dark with an emotion so raw it made your heart skip a beat.
He looked down at you, his thumb gently wiping a trace of moisture from your lower lip.
"I am tired of listening to fools speak your name with anything less than the reverence you deserve," he whispered, his voice for your ears alone.
He then turned his head, his sharp, lethal gaze locking onto Donna, who looked as though she wished the floorboards would open up and swallow her whole.
"Let me make this entirely clear to everyone present," Diluc announced, his voice ringing with absolute authority through the Angelās Share.
"The lady standing beside me is the mistress of the Dawn Winery. She holds my heart, my trust, and my name. Any insult directed toward her is a direct declaration of hostility against the Ragnvindr house. If I hear a single whisper of slander against my wife again... you will find yourselves permanently barred not only from this establishment, but from every trade route, estate, and asset I control in Mondstadt. Am I understood?"
Donna looked as if she might burst into tears.
She gave a frantic, terrified nod before grabbing her bag and sprinting out of the tavern doors, the laughter of the patrons following her into the night.
Diluc let out a soft breath, the tension leaving his shoulders as he looked back down at you.
His expression immediately melted back into that soft, gentle gaze that was reserved entirely for you. "Are you alright?"
"I'm more than alright," you smiled, wrapping your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest. "Though I thought we agreed no public displays of affection?"
"Exceptions can be made," he murmured, wrapping his arms securely around you, holding you close against his chest, entirely ignoring the catcalls and cheers of the tavern around him.
From the table, Kaeya cleared his throat loudly, a massive, mischievous grin stretching across his face. He stood up, swirling his drink before tossing it back.
"Well, well. Quite a performance, Master Diluc," Kaeya teased, walking over to the two of you. He clapped a hand heavily onto Dilucās shoulder, a gesture that made Dilucās eyes narrow, though he didn't pull away. Kaeya looked at you, his single eye glittering with a brilliant, sudden idea.
"You know... since the town is clearly so confused about your martial status, I think thereās only one logical solution to put this entire matter to rest permanently."
Diluc glared at him. "And what would that be, Kaeya?"
Kaeya smirked, leaning in. "A proper, grand wedding. Right in the middle of the city, at the Cathedral of Favonius. A full mass, the entire town invited, the grandest decorations the winery can buy."
He winked at you.
"And most importantly... we ensure Donna is given a front-row seat to watch you slide the ring onto her finger all over again. What do you say, sister-in-law? Want to give Mondstadt something real to gossip about?"
You looked up at Diluc, who was already looking down at you, awaiting your verdict.
The thought of a grand wedding was usually against his private nature, but seeing the soft, unspoken warmth in his eyes, you knew that if it made you happy, he would rent out the entire city for a week.
"I think," you said, a beautiful, radiant smile breaking across your face, "that sounds like a wonderful idea."
The morning following the announcement at the Angelās Share did not arrive with the usual quiet dignity of the Dawn Winery.
Instead, it arrived with the sound of Kaeya Alberichās boots clicking across the polished flagstones of the manorās entrance hall at an hour that Diluc considered borderline criminal.
Inside the study, the air was thick with the scent of old paper, sealing wax, and the rich aroma of dark-roasted coffee.
Diluc sat behind his massive mahogany desk, his crimson hair tied back loosely with a black ribbon, a pair of reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.
You sat on the chaise lounge across from him, a ledger of elemental inventory resting on your lap, though your attention had long since drifted to the way the morning light caught the sharp lines of your husbandās jaw.
The door flew open without a knock.
"Good morning, newlyweds or should I say, the soon-to-be publicly newlyweds?" Kaeya breezed into the room, his fur-lined cape swirling behind him like a dark blue cloud.
He held a thick stack of parchment in one hand and a half-eaten red apple in the other.
Diluc did not look up from his ledger, though his brow twitched with an immediate, practiced irritation.
"Kaeya. It is barely eight in the morning. Do the Knights no longer require their Cavalry Captain to pretend he has duties?"
"Oh, Jean has given me a temporary leave of absence for a matter of grave diplomatic and cultural importance," Kaeya said smoothly, dropping the stack of parchment directly onto Dilucās immaculate desk, right over the trade reports from Liyue.
Diluc finally raised his eyes, his gaze flat and lethal. "And what matter might that be?"
"Your wedding, of course," Kaeya smiled, his single eye glinting with pure, unadulterated mischief.
He turned to you, his expression softening into that warm, brotherly fondness that had become so familiar over the past year. "Good morning, little lady. I trust my dear brother didn't keep you up all night discussing wine fermentation statistics?"
You laughed softly, closing your ledger and setting it aside. "Good morning, Kaeya. And no, we actually managed to sleep. Though I see youāve been busy."
"Busy? I haven't slept a wink!" Kaeya declared dramatically, pulling up a high-backed chair and spinning it around so he could rest his arms across the backrest.
"Do you have any idea how much coordination it takes to plan a grand ceremony at the Cathedral of Favonius on less than a month's notice? Jean is already organizing the honorary guard. Lisa is curating the evening's musical repertoire though she threatened to electrocute me if I suggested any sea shanties and Amber has volunteered to handle the decorations for the plaza."
Diluc slowly took off his reading glasses, placing them precisely on the desk. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.
"We agreed to a ceremony, Kaeya. We did not agree to turn the city into a carnival. A quiet, dignified service at the Cathedral is more than enough to satisfy whatever... point you are trying to make."
"Oh, this isn't just about making a point, Master Diluc," Kaeya purred, his smile widening into something genuinely wicked.
"This is about community morale. And, more importantly, it is about civic education. The good people of Mondstadt need to learn the consequences of gossiping about the wineryās Lady."
Kaeya reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a separate piece of parchment, tapping it against his chin.
"In fact, Iāve already taken the liberty of handling the floral arrangements. I thought to myself, 'Kaeya, who in Mondstadt is most qualified to provide the highest volume of Cecilias and Windwheel Asters for the Ragnvindr estate?' And then it hit me."
A sudden, terrible suspicion flashed across Dilucās face.
"Kaeya. What did you do?"
Kaeyaās grin was blinding.
"I placed a massive, non-refundable, incredibly lucrative order with Floraās shop. Specifically, I requested that the order be processed, curated, and hand-delivered directly to the Cathedral by her senior assistant."
The room went dead silent for three seconds.
You blinked, a slow, disbelieving smile breaking across your face as the pieces clicked together.
"Donna."
"Precisely!" Kaeya snapped his fingers, looking thoroughly pleased with his own genius.
"I ordered five thousand Cecilias, three thousand Windwheel Asters, and a dozen arrangements of silk flowers imported from Liyue. And I made sure to specify in the contract that the delivery must be supervised at all hours by Mondstadt's most dedicated floral enthusiast. She will be spending the next three weeks surrounded by the very flowers that will adorn your bridal aisle. She will practically smell your happiness every time she breathes."
Diluc let out a long, heavy sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose where his glasses had just been.
"You are a child. A petty, vindictive child."
"I am a protective older brother," Kaeya corrected, his tone shifting for a brief second into something entirely sincere as he looked at you.
"And I don't tolerate people throwing dirt on my family. Besides, think of the economic boost for the flower shop! Itās an act of pure charity."
"It's psychological warfare," you corrected gently, though you couldn't deny the small, wicked spark of satisfaction it gave you.
Donna had spent weeks trying to poison your reputation; letting her carry the flowers for your wedding felt like a poetic, if slightly chaotic, form of justice.
"Exactly. The best kind of warfare," Kaeya chuckled, standing up and dusting off his trousers.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go check on the wine selection with Elzer. I told him we need at least fifty barrels of the 1984 vintage, and he looked like he was going to have a stroke."
"Kaeya, do not touch my cellar," Diluc growled, his voice dropping an octave.
"Too late! See you at lunch!" Kaeya waved a hand over his shoulder as he sauntered out of the study, his laughter echoing down the hallway.
Once the door closed, the heavy silence returned to the study, but the tension had evaporated, replaced by a warm, lingering amusement.
Diluc turned his head to look at you, his crimson eyes softening as the rigid persona of the Darknight Hero melted away entirely.
He stood up from his desk, walking across the room with that silent, graceful stride of his.
He stopped before the chaise lounge, reaching down to take your hands in his.
His palms were large, covering yours completely, the ambient Pyro energy within him making his skin feel like a hearth on a winter night.
He pulled you up to stand, wrapping his arms around your waist and drawing you flush against his chest.
"If this is too much," Diluc murmured, his face burying into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin, "we can stop it. I don't care about the city's rumors. I only care about your peace."
You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling into the soft, thick waves of his red hair.
"Diluc, it's fine. Honestly. Itās a little chaotic, but... seeing everyone want to help, seeing Kaeya get so worked up to protect us... it makes me realize how much love we actually have around us. And besides..."
You pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, a playful glint in your own. "I wouldn't mind seeing you in a proper tailored suit at the altar."
Dilucās chest rumbled with a rare, low chuckle.
He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, deep kiss that tasted faintly of coffee and sweet morning air. "If it pleases my wife, I will wear whatever she desires."
Over the next two weeks, Mondstadt was transformed into a whirlwind of wedding preparation.
Because you and Diluc were already technically married, the typical stress of a wedding was absent; there was no anxiety about vows or legalities.
Instead, it became a massive, community-driven festival, with every major figure in the city finding a way to involve themselves.
At the Knights of Favonius headquarters, Jean had practically turned her office into a war room specifically for the logistics of the ceremony.
"The honorary guard will line the steps of the Cathedral," Jean explained, tapping a quill against a map of the city plaza.
You were sitting across from her, while Lisa lounged on the sofa nearby, sipping tea.
"We will have four squads of Knights in full ceremonial armor. No weapons drawn, of course, but it will ensure the crowd remains orderly. Master Dilucās standing in Mondstadt demands a certain level of security, and given your status as a vital liaison, the Knights are proud to sponsor the guard."
"Jean, you really don't have to go to such trouble," you said, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the scale of it all. "A simple walk up the steps is fine."
"Nonsense, darling," Lisa chimed in, setting her teacup down with a elegant clink. "Mondstadt hasn't had a proper noble wedding since Diluc's father was a young man. The people need something beautiful to look at. And besides, Jean needs an excuse to think about something other than paperwork. Look at her, sheās practically glowing with tactical wedding enthusiasm."
Jean flushed slightly, coughing into her hand. "I am merely ensuring that the event goes smoothly. Furthermore, Klee has requested to be the flower girl. I have... strictly forbidden her from using any 'special' flowers, and Albedo has promised to supervise her to ensure no explosives are disguised as bouquets."
You laughed, the vision of Klee accidentally blowing up the Cathedral altar with a companion sphere of dandelions both terrifying and hilarious. "Thank Barbatos for Albedo."
Meanwhile, down in the city plaza, the real drama was unfolding at the floral shop.
Kaeya had made it a personal habit to check on the progress of the floral orders at least twice a day.
He didn't just check the inventory; he brought a chair, sat near the fountain, and watched with a look of supreme satisfaction as Donna worked.
Donna was utterly miserable.
Her fingers were raw from trimming the thorny stems of the silk flowers, and her eyes were permanently red from a combination of pollen and bitter, furious tears.
Every single flower she touched was a reminder of the woman she hated, the woman who had turned out to be the legal, fiercely adored wife of the most eligible man in Mondstadt.
"Careful with those Windwheel Asters, Donna," Kaeya called out from his chair, swirling a glass of sparkling cider he had brought from the tavern.
"We need them to be perfectly symmetrical. My sister-in-law has a very keen eye for detail, you know. If a single petal is wilted, Iāll have to report it to Master Diluc, and we both know how particular he is about quality."
Donna bit her lower lip so hard it nearly bled.
She kept her head down, her hands trembling as she tied a silk ribbon around a massive bouquet of Cecilias. "Yes, Captain Kaeya. I am being very careful."
"Excellent!" Kaeya beamed, taking a slow sip of his drink.
"Oh, and make sure the delivery to the Cathedral on Friday morning is prompt. Master Diluc requested that the altar be completely covered in white lilies. He told me just yesterday while looking at his wife with the most sickeningly sweet expression I've ever seen on his face, mind you that she reminds him of a fresh lily after a spring rain. Truly, the man is a closet romantic. Who knew?"
A sharp snip echoed through the plaza as Donna accidentally cut the head completely off a pristine white rose.
"Oops," Kaeya murmured, his eye flashing with cruel amusement.
"Thatās coming out of your commission, dear."
Donna looked up, her eyes wide with a mix of terror, humiliation, and deep-seated jealousy. "Captain Kaeya... why are you doing this to me? I... I only said what everyone else was thinking! How was I supposed to know they were... they were..."
"Married?" Kaeyaās voice lost its playful edge, dropping into a cold, sharp tone that made Donna flinch.
He leaned forward, his single visible eye locking onto her like a dagger.
"Because, Donna, a sensible person minds their own business. You let your jealousy cloud your judgment, and you tried to publicly humiliate a woman who is worth ten of you. Consider this a lesson in humility. Youāre lucky itās me sitting here teasing you, and not my brother. If Diluc had his way entirely, you wouldn't even be allowed within the city walls right now."
Donna swallowed hard, her throat tight with unshed tears. She looked down at the ruined rose in her hand, the reality of her situation sinking in. She had lost any chance she ever thought she had, and now she was forced to build the stage for her rival's ultimate triumph.
The night before the ceremony, the Dawn Winery was filled with a warm, bustling energy.
The entire staff: Adeline, Elzer, the maids, and the stable hands had gathered in the main hall to finalize the preparations for the reception, which was to be held on the estate grounds.
You stood in the center of the hall, wearing the beautiful, flowing white gown that Margaret and the cityās finest tailors had spent the last two weeks perfecting.
It was elegant, with delicate lace along the sleeves and a high neckline that managed to look both classic and modern.
Your Vision was subtly integrated into the sash at your waist, glowing with a soft, comforting light.
"Oh, look at you," Adeline whispered, her eyes misty with tears as she adjusted the long, sheer veil that trailed behind you. "You look absolutely breathtaking, my lady. Master Diluc won't know what to do with himself."
"He'll probably just scowl to hide how nervous he is," you joked softly, though your own heart was fluttering with a sweet, nervous anticipation.
"He doesn't scowl when he looks at you," Elzer remarked, entering the hall with a tray of polished silver chalices.
"In all my years serving the Ragnvindr family, I have never seen Master Diluc as at peace as he is when you are in the room. This ceremony... it is a good thing. The people of Mondstadt need to see that the Dawn Winery has a mistress who is strong, graceful, and deeply loved."
Just then, the heavy front doors of the manor opened, and Diluc stepped inside.
He had just returned from a final sweep of the perimeter with the Dawn Winery guards, ensuring no Abyss Order elements would disrupt the following day.
He stopped dead in his tracks the moment his eyes fell upon you.
The entire room went quiet.
The maids stepped back, smiling secretly among themselves.
Diluc stood perfectly still, his breath catching audibly in his throat. His crimson eyes scanned you from head to toe, taking in the elegant curve of the dress, the soft glow of your Vision, and the radiant, loving smile on your face.
For a man who never lost his composure, Diluc looked completely undone.
He slowly walked forward, his boots making no sound against the thick rugs. He stopped just inches away from you, his hands rising as if to touch you, but pausing, afraid to disturb the pristine perfection of the lace.
"You..." Dilucās voice was barely a whisper, thick with an emotion so deep it felt heavy in the air. "You are beautiful."
"Do you like it?" you asked softly, reaching out to take his hands, pulling them to your waist.
Diluc didn't answer with words.
Instead, he leaned down, his lips finding yours with an intense, quiet reverence.
The kiss was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he were trying to commit the exact feeling of this moment to memory forever.
His hands slid around your back, pulling you close against him, completely unbothered by the fact that his entire staff was watching.
Adeline let out a soft, emotional sniffle, while the younger maids giggled into their aprons.
"I love you," Diluc murmured against your lips, his forehead resting against yours. "More than my own life. Tomorrow, the whole world will know it."
"They already know it, Diluc," you whispered back, squeezing his hands. "But tomorrow, we make it official."
The morning of the wedding arrived with a sky so clear and blue it looked as though the Anemo Archon himself had personally swept the clouds away.
The bells of the Cathedral of Favonius began to ring at noon, their deep, resonant chimes echoing across the rooftops of Mondstadt, signaling the start of the grandest celebration the city had seen in a generation.
The plaza outside the Cathedral was packed to absolute capacity. Citizens from every walk of life: merchants, Knights, adventurers, and farmers from Springvale had gathered along the grand stone steps.
The atmosphere was electric, filled with the sounds of laughter, the chatter of excited children, and the beautiful music of bards playing traditional Mondstadt love ballads.
Standing near the base of the steps, holding a massive basket of flower petals, was Donna.
She wore her finest dress, but her face was a mask of pale, frozen misery.
True to Kaeyaās word, she had been given a designated position right at the front of the spectator line, forced to watch every single guest arrive.
Her hands were trembling so violently that a few dandelion seeds slipped from her basket, scattering into the wind.
"Oh, look! The Knightsā leadership is arriving!" a merchant nearby shouted.
Jean walked up the steps in her full ceremonial uniform, her blond hair styled elegantly.
Beside her was Lisa, wearing a stunning purple gown that turned heads with every step.
Then came Barbara, leading the Cathedral choir, her face bright with a pure, angelic joy.
And then, the carriage from the Dawn Winery arrived.
The crowd went completely silent as the door opened. Diluc stepped out first.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
Diluc Ragnvindr, who spent his entire life in dark coats and practical combat gear, was dressed in a pristine, tailored black tailcoat with gold embroidery along the lapels.
His fiery red hair was tied back in a flawless braid, and a single, perfect white Cecilia was pinned to his breast. He looked every bit the high-born nobleman he was born to be; regal, imposing, and breathtakingly handsome.
But what caught everyoneās attention was his expression.
There was no scowl.
There was no cold detachment.
His eyes were fixed entirely on the carriage door, a soft, incredibly tender look softening his sharp features.
Diluc reached his gloved hand back into the carriage, and then, you stepped out.
The silence of the plaza broke into a roar of cheers and applause that could be heard all the way to Whispering Woods.
You looked like an absolute goddess, the white silk of your gown shimmering in the Mondstadt sun, your Vision gleaming at your hip like a star.
Diluc took your hand, drawing it through his arm. He looked down at you, a proud, deeply affectionate smile touching his lips. "Ready?" he whispered.
"With you? Always," you replied.
As the two of you began your walk up the grand stone steps, Kaeya stepped into view near the Cathedral doors.
He was dressed in his formal captainās uniform, his cape flowing dramatically.
As you and Diluc neared the front row where Donna stood, Kaeya deliberately caught your eye, casting a subtle, mischievous glance down at the floral assistant.
Diluc, noticing the movement, paused right in front of Donna.
Donna froze, her breath catching in her throat as the terrifying, magnificent master of the winery stood just two feet away from her.
She looked down at your joined hands, the gold wedding bands catching the light, an undeniable, permanent reality.
Diluc looked at Donna, his crimson eyes cold, but entirely indifferent.
He didn't need to speak an insult; his happiness, his devotion to you, and the sheer grandeur of the moment were a far greater defeat than any words could inflict.
"Thank you for the beautiful flowers, Donna," you said softly, your voice filled with genuine kindness and grace, entirely devoid of malice. "They make the day perfect."
Donnaās face flushed a deep, burning red. She lowered her head, her voice a tiny, broken whisper. "Y-you're welcome, Lady Ragnvindr. I wish you... a lifetime of happiness."
Kaeya, standing just a few paces away, let out a soft, satisfied hum, crossing his arms as he watched the final piece of his plan fall into place.
Diluc looked down at you, his eyes immediately melting back into that soft, private warmth that belonged to you alone.
He squeezed your hand, and together, you walked through the grand wooden doors of the Cathedral, leaving the gossip, the jealousy, and the whispers of Mondstadt far behind.
Inside, the altar was a sea of white lilies and glowing candles.
Barbara began to sing, her voice filling the high stone arches with a melody of pure peace.
The high stone doors of the Cathedral closed behind you, shutting out the roar of the Mondstadt crowd and leaving only the ethereal, echoing resonance of Barbaraās choir.
The ambient temperature inside the sanctuary felt instantly warmer, charged by the quiet intensity of Dilucās presence and the harmonious hum of your twin Visions.
As you walked down the grand aisle, flanked by rows of white lilies that Donna had spent the last two weeks painstakingly preparing, Dilucās arm beneath your hand felt as solid as stone.
Yet, the way his fingers loosely entwined with yours showed a profound, almost hesitant gentleness.
He was a man who handled a heavy claymore with lethal precision, but with you, he always moved as if a fraction too much pressure might break the most precious thing he owned.
At the altar stood Acting Grand Master Jean, her expression a mix of professional dignity and deep personal relief.
Beside her, Albedo stood with a watchful eye on Klee, who was bouncing on the balls of her feet, clutching a velvet basket filled with shimmering Anemo-infused dandelion seeds.
"We are gathered here today," Jean began, her voice rich and carrying through the vaulted ceiling, "not to initiate a bond, but to honor one that has already stood the test of time, trial, and secrecy. Diluc Ragnvindr and his lady have long been the silent pillars of Mondstadt. Today, we bring their devotion into the light of the Archon."
Diluc turned to face you, taking both of your hands in his.
The gold embroidery on his tailored coat caught the flickering candlelight, casting a warm glow up into his crimson eyes.
In this sacred space, the stern, unyielding master of the Dawn Winery vanished completely.
The gaze he leveled at you was so raw, so entirely soft, that it made your breath catch.
"I, Diluc Ragnvindr, take you once more, before the gods and the people of Mondstadt," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly timbre that vibrated straight to your heart.
"I swore my life to you in secret, but today I gladly bind my name, my house, and my honor to yours for all to see. No rumor can shake what we have built, and no shadow will ever come between us."
You smiled, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you squeezed his warm, leather-gloved hands.
"And I take you, Diluc. With my life, my sword, and my Vision, I am yours. Yesterday, today, and for every tomorrow Mondstadt has left to give."
Kaeya, standing just a few paces back as Diluc's best man, let out a soft, theatrical sigh, wiping a completely imaginary tear from his eye.
"Beautiful. Truly, I might cry," he whispered loudly enough for Lisa to chuckle behind her hand.
"You may now seal the vow," Jean said, a genuine, warm smile breaking across her face.
Diluc didn't wait.
He stepped forward, his hands sliding up from your waist to cup your face with an immense, protective tenderness.
When his lips met yours, the Cathedral choir hit a breathtaking crescendo. It was a kiss of absolute victory; a silent, powerful declaration that the rumors, the jealousy, and the petty malice of the world outside had officially been incinerated by the hearth of his love.
Klee threw her hands in the air, sending a flurry of glowing dandelion seeds exploding into the air like miniature, harmless fireworks.
The crowd inside erupted into applause, led by a fiercely beaming Grand Master and a thoroughly satisfied Cavalry Captain.
The reception at the Dawn Winery later that evening was an affair that Mondstadt would talk about for decades.
The rolling hills of the estate were lit by hundreds of floating paper lanterns, casting a soft, golden glow over the grapevine trellises.
Tables groaned under the weight of Mondstadt's finest delicacies, and Elzer had indeed been forced to crack open the legendary 1984 vintage, much to the delight of the gathered Knights and citizens.
You stood on the stone veranda overlooking the festivities, a glass of sparkling apple cider in your hand.
The heavy lace of your bridal veil had been removed, leaving your hair to fall softly around your shoulders.
Your Vision pulsed with a gentle, contented rhythm against your hip.
"A penny for your thoughts, Lady Ragnvindr?"
You turned to see Kaeya leaning against the stone balustrade, a glass of Death After Noon tilted lazily between his fingers.
The chaotic smirk he had worn all day was gone, replaced by a quiet, genuinely protective expression.
"I'm just thinking about how perfect everything turned out," you smiled, leaning back against the railing.
"Even with all your chaotic planning, Kaeya. Thank you. For everything."
"Oh, don't thank me," Kaeya chuckled, looking out over the crowd where Diluc was currently trapped in a conversation with Jean and Venti, though his eyes were still firmly locked onto you across the courtyard.
"I simply expedited the inevitable. You two deserved a day where you didn't have to hide in the shadows of that big old manor. Mondstadt needs to know who holds the reins around here."
He paused, his expression turning serious for a brief moment. "Donna was at the gate earlier, helping the catering staff. She looked like she wanted to melt into the dirt. I think she finally understands that some fires burn too hot to play with."
"I don't harbor any ill will toward her," you said softly, watching the lanterns drift into the night sky.
"Jealousy makes people blind. I just hope she finds her own peace."
"You're far too kind," Kaeya sighed, shaking his head with a fond smile. "But that's exactly why my stubborn brother needs you. Speak of the devil..."
Kaeya gave a polite nod as Diluc excused himself from the Grand Master and walked up the stone steps toward the veranda.
His posture relaxed the moment he stepped away from the crowd, his eyes entirely consumed by your image.
"I believe it's time for me to mingle elsewhere," Kaeya said smoothly, tapping his glass against yours.
"Don't keep her up too late, Master Diluc. She's had a long day of being adored by the public." With a sharp wink, the Cavalry Captain sauntered back down into the gardens, leaving the two of you alone in the quiet dark of the terrace.
Diluc closed the distance between you instantly.
He didn't say a word at first; he simply slid his arms around your waist from behind, pulling your back firmly against his chest.
He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume and the faint, familiar trace of elemental energy that always lingered around you.
"Are you tired?" he whispered, his chest rumbling against your back.
"A little," you admitted, tilting your head back to rest against his shoulder.
Diluc looked out over the crowded courtyard, watching his staff laughing with the Knights, watching the city he protected in the dead of night celebrating the light of his life.
For the first time in years, the heavy burden on his shoulders felt completely weightless.
He leaned over, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your jawline, his Pyro warmth enveloping you completely in the cool night air.
"From this day forward, the world knows exactly where I belong. Right here. With you."
Curse Of The Feline
MASTERLIST || CHARACTER M.LIST
One shot
Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader
Summary: When Jujutsu Highās most sensible teacher transforms into an impossibly round, fiercely indignant ball of fluff, Satoru Gojo decides it is officially the best day of his life.
Warnings + Tags: Fluff | Absolute Mush | Romantic Comedy | Established Relationship | Accidental Cat Transformation | Cat Tendencies & Logic | Morning Zoomies | Satoru Being Loud and Whipped | Pure Domestic Bliss
The corridors of Jujutsu High were usually filled with the damp, heavy scent of old wood, incense, and the lingering, metallic tang of residual cursed energy.
But on this particular Tuesday morning, the atmosphere in the faculty lounge was thick with something entirely different: sheer, unadulterated, blinding panic.
Shoko Ieiri exhaled a long, slow stream of cigarette smoke out the open window, her dark-circled eyes tracking the frantic, blur-of-white motion occupying the center of the room.
"Satoru," Shoko said, her voice dropping into that flat, exhausted register she reserved exclusively for when the universe was being particularly absurd. "If you don't sit down, I'm going to lace your next batch of kikufuku with muscle relaxants."
"I can't sit down, Shoko! You don't understand the gravity of the situation!" Satoru Gojo spun on his heel, his towering six-foot-three frame practically vibrating with frantic energy.
His iconic black blindfold was pulled up just enough to expose one brilliant, sky-blue eye, which was wide with an alarm that looked entirely unnatural on the strongest sorcerer alive.
"Look at her! Just look at her! How did this even happen? Who did this? I swear to God, if this was the work of some minor curse, Iām going to hollow-purple their entire lineage."
"It wasn't a curse," Shoko sighed, rubbing her temples. "We already established this. It was a misplaced relic from the storage vault that Utahime asked her to catalog. It had a minor, non-lethal transfiguration technique bound to it. A safety mechanism from the Heian era to incapacitate thieves without killing them. It wears off in forty-eight hours."
"Forty-eight hours?!" Satoru shrieked, clutching his head, his white hair standing up in even wilder spikes than usual. "That's two whole days! Two days of this!"
He pointed a long, trembling finger down at the low coffee table in the center of the lounge.
There, sitting precisely on top of a stack of ungraded student evaluations, was a ball of fluff.
It was, without a doubt, the roundest, softest, most ridiculously immaculate cat Satoru had ever seen.
The fur was a rich, glossy hue of white so thick and plush that it looked less like an animal and more like a high-end decorative pom-pom.
Two large, extraordinarily expressive eyes, exactly your shade, carrying the distinct, unmistakable glint of your usual intelligence and current immense irritation, glared up at him.
You let out a soft, sharp "Mew."
It wasn't a majestic roar.
It wasn't even a standard cat meow.
It was a tiny, high-pitched, indignant squeak that sounded like a squeezed plush toy.
Satoru froze.
The air in the room seemed to lose all its tension in a fraction of a second.
His hands dropped from his head, his fingers twitching.
The fierce, terrifying sorcerer who could tear apart special-grade curses with a flick of his wrist suddenly looked like he had just been hit by a localized stun grenade.
"Oh," Satoru whispered, his voice dropping an octave, completely melting into a puddle of mush. "Oh, my god. You're... you're so tiny."
You glared harder, your tiny, pink-nosed snout twitching.
You tried to cross your arms to project your absolute displeasure at the situation, but because you currently lacked collarbones and possessed four stubby, furry paws, the gesture resulted in you merely shifting your weight and rolling slightly to the side like an oversized cotton ball.
Realizing your dignity was rapidly eroding, you let out a low, warning hiss. Or, at least, you tried to. It came out as a breathless āPfft.ā
"Did you hear that, Shoko? She threatened me!" Satoru dropped to his knees beside the coffee table, his face mere inches from yours.
He dropped his blindfold completely, letting it hang around his neck so he could feast his eyes on your new form with the full, unfiltered clarity of the Six Eyes.
"She's trying to be scary! Look at those little ears! They're twitching! Are you mad at me, sweetface? Is the big, bad relic making you grumpy?"
You lifted one tiny, pristine paw and smacked him squarely on the nose.
Because Satoruās Limitless was always active, your paw didn't actually make contact with his skin; it stopped precisely a millimeter away, pressing against the invisible infinity that separated him from the world.
But the sheer audacity of your tiny, furry slap caused him to gasp dramatically, clutching his chest as if he had been pierced through the heart.
"Betrayed by my own lover," he groaned, collapsing his forehead onto the edge of the wooden table, making it rattle. "The pain is unbearable. The infinity can protect me from everything, but it canāt protect my heart from your cruelty."
You rolled your eyes, a feat that looked incredibly ridiculous as a cat and turned your back on him, deliberately sitting on the paper that contained Megumiās mid-term marks.
You tucked your paws beneath your chest, instantly transforming into a perfect, seamless loaf of bread.
"See? She's already adapting," Shoko muttered, gathering her medical papers. "She's occupying the most inconvenient spot possible, ignoring you, and radiating pure judgment. Sheās a natural. Now, get her out of my office. I have autopsies to perform and a headache to nurse."
"Come to papa, princess," Satoru cooed, reaching out with both hands.
You immediately tensed, your ears flattening against your round head.
You liked Satoru.
You loved Satoru, actually.
You had been dating the idiot for over two years, enduring his endless antics, his loud mouth, his boundary-crossing affection, and his occasional bursts of terrifying possessiveness.
But right now, your newly acquired feline instincts were screaming that being picked up by a giant, white-haired titan was a threat to your sovereignty.
As his large, calloused hands - hands that usually held yours so gently during quiet nights in his apartment reached down to scoop you up, you let out a sharp squeak and bolted.
"Ah! Wait! No!" Satoru scrambled forward, but you were surprisingly fast.
You scrambled off the table, your little claws clicking against the hardwood floor.
You didn't just run; you did that sideways, arched-back hop that kittens do when theyāre startled, your tail puffed up to three times its normal size until you looked like a bottle brush.
You scrambled straight toward the nearest sanctuary: the heavy, dark velvet curtains draping the faculty windows.
With a frantic, uncoordinated scramble, you climbed.
Your claws dug into the thick fabric, and you hauled your round, fluffy body up, inch by inch, until you were perched precariously on top of the curtain rod, looking down at the room like a gargoyle of pure spite.
Satoru stood up slowly, a massive, incredibly delighted grin spreading across his face. "Oh, this is the best day of my life."
"Mew!" you hissed from the ceiling.
"Satoru, take your cat and leave," Shoko said, her voice deadpan as she walked out the door, closing it firmly behind her.
Getting you down from the curtain rod took exactly twenty minutes, mostly because Satoru insisted on taking multiple photos from every conceivable angle first.
"Look at the camera, babe! Give me those fierce, apex-predator eyes!" he had cheered, the flash on his phone going off repeatedly until you actively turned your face to the wall, ignoring him completely.
Eventually, he had simply floated up using his cursed technique, gravity ceasing to apply to him as he hovered level with the curtain rod.
He hadn't used force.
Instead, he had reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, foil-wrapped piece of strawberry mochi heād been saving for a snack.
He unwrapped it, holding it just out of reach of your pink nose.
The sweet, rich scent of sugar and rice dough had done something terrible to your brain.
Your stomach had let out a loud, rumbling growl, and before you could remind yourself that you were a respected, high-grade Jujutsu sorcerer who taught advanced curse theory, you had leaned forward, sniffed the pastry, and let out a pathetic, pleading little mewl.
Satoru had chuckled, a low, warm sound that vibrated right through your tiny ribs as he finally wrapped his large hands around your middle and pulled you into his chest.
Now, you were in his personal quarters at Jujutsu High.
His apartment was surprisingly spacious, given how little time he actually spent sleeping, but it was exactly as disorganized as one would expect.
Stacks of fashion magazines, half-finished boxes of sweet treats, and expensive designer jackets were scattered over the furniture. But the bed, a massive, king-sized mattress with high-thread-count black sheets was pristine.
Satoru set you down on the middle of the bed.
The contrast was immediate.
You were a small, bright ball of fluff against a sea of dark silk.
"Alright, let's establish some ground rules," Satoru said, clapping his hands together as he sat cross-legged at the edge of the bed.
He had taken off his jacket, now wearing just his tight black long-sleeve shirt, his white hair falling softly over his forehead without the restraint of his blindfold or glasses.
"Rule number one: No scratching the leather couch. I imported that from Italy, and if you ruin it, Iāll have to make Megumi pay for it out of his allowance."
You gave him a flat look, blinking slowly.
"Rule number two: You are not allowed to be this cute when I have a meeting with the higher-ups later. If I bring you into the council chamber, Iām going to spend the whole time making you do the little paw-shake thing, and Principal Yaga will hit me." He leaned forward, propping his chin in his hands.
"Rule number three: You still have to love me, even if you're a cat."
You sighed, a tiny, shuddering breath that puffed out your chest fur and walked over to him.
Your paws sank into the soft mattress with every step.
You reached the edge where he sat and, driven by a sudden, overwhelming urge that you couldn't control, you leaned your head forward and hard-bonked your forehead against his kneecap.
Thump.
It was a headbutt of pure, territorial affection.
Your cat brain decided that since this giant white-haired man belonged to you, he needed to smell like you immediately.
You rubbed your cheek against his knee, over and over, scenting him with the glands near your mouth, purring so loudly that your entire body vibrated.
Satoruās breath hitched.
For a man who could command the very fabric of space, he looked entirely defenseless.
"Oh," he whispered, his eyes wide and shining with something akin to reverence.
"Oh, you like the knee. Youāre scenting me. Youāre marking your territory." He reached out, his long, pale fingers hovering over your back, hesitant for the first time in his life.
"Can I pet you? Is it allowed? Am I authorized?"
You looked up at him, let out a soft āPrrt?ā and flipped over onto your side, exposing your round, impossibly fluffy belly.
It was a trap.
Every human knew it was a trap.
But Satoru Gojo was not an ordinary human, and he possessed the hubris of a god.
"Belly!" he cheered, diving in.
The moment his large, warm hand touched the soft fur of your stomach, a switch flipped in your brain.
Danger! Overstimulation! Attack!
Your rear legs instantly started rabbit-kicking his wrist, your front paws wrapping around his hand as you bit down on his thumb with your tiny, sharp kitten teeth.
"Ow! Ow! Hey!" Satoru laughed, not pulling away.
His skin was perfectly safe behind his infinity, but he turned the technique off just enough to feel the dull, harmless pressure of your teeth.
"You absolute gremlin! You lured me in! Youāre a little predator!"
You bit him again, just to prove a point, before suddenly losing interest.
You let go of his hand, sat up, and began to vigorously lick your right shoulder, pretending the entire violent episode had never happened.
Satoru sat back, watching you with an expression of pure, unadulterated adoration.
He reached out again, more carefully this time, and scratched the spot right beneath your chin, the golden zone.
Your eyes drifted shut.
Your head tilted back automatically, your throat opening up as a loud, rumbly, engine-like purr erupted from your chest. Your front paws began to flex, digging into the black comforter, extending and retracting your claws in rhythmic, blissful kneads.
You were making biscuits on his bed.
"Look at you," Satoru murmured, his voice softening into that rare, tender tone he only used when the two of you were completely alone, far away from the responsibilities of being the strongest, far away from curses and death.
He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your furry head, right between your twitching ears. "Even as a little fluffball, you're the best thing in this whole damn school."
By afternoon, the novelty of being a cat had slightly worn off, replaced by a profound, heavy drowsiness that seemed to consume your entire being.
Cat bodies, you realized, required an absurd amount of sleep.
You had spent the last three hours curled up in a sunbeam that fell across Satoruās desk, completely dead to the world.
Satoru, meanwhile, was supposed to be grading papers.
Instead, he had spent the last three hours drawing tiny crowns on sticky notes and gently placing them on your head while you slept, taking pictures each time.
A sharp, firm knock on the door broke the silence.
You startled awake, your ears flying forward, your tail puffing up instinctively.
Satoru smoothly slid his blindfold back over his eyes, his demeanor shifting instantly from doting pet-owner to his usual nonchalant, cocky self.
"Come in~!" he called out.
The door opened, and Megumi walked in, holding a stack of leather-bound books.
The teenage sorcerer looked as exhausted and serious as always, his dark hair messy, his uniform immaculate.
"Gojo-sensei, Shoko-sensei told me to bring these historical texts regarding Heian-era transfiguration relics to..." Megumi trailed off.
His dark eyes traveled from Satoru, down to the desk, and landed squarely on you.
You were currently sitting upright, a tiny neon-pink sticky-note crown slightly askew over one of your ears, staring at him with wide, defensive eyes.
Megumi stared at you.
You stared at Megumi.
Satoru grinned broadly, leaning back in his chair and throwing his arms behind his head.
"Ah, Megumi! Perfect timing! I want you to meet our new assistant principal. She's very strict, very fluffy, and if you don't turn your assignments in on time, she will bite your thumbs."
Megumi blinked slowly.
He looked at the books in his hands, then back at you.
He was quiet for a long, agonizing moment before he let out a heavy, world-weary sigh. "Is that... Y/n sensei?"
"The one and only!" Satoru beamed.
"Isn't she beautiful? Look at her posture! Tremendous. Iconic."
Megumi closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why does something ridiculous happen to us every single week? First, Itadori gets hit by a sleeping curse, then we get attacked by special grades at a goodwill event, and now one of my only competent sensei has been turned into a household pet."
You let out an offended "Mew!" and hopped down from the desk.
You trotted over to the edge of the floor where Megumi stood, your tail held high in the air with a slight crook at the tip, a sign of greeting, though you were mostly just glad to see your student was safe.
Megumi froze as you stopped at his boots.
He looked down, his expression softening just a fraction, though he tried desperately to maintain his stoic facade.
"Don't touch her, Megumi! She's mine!" Satoru whined dramatically, leaning over the desk. "I'm the only one allowed to receive the royal headbutts! If you get a headbutt, Iām failing you in hand-to-hand combat!"
Ignoring his tutor entirely, Megumi slowly crouched down.
He extended a hand, keeping his fingers loose and low, letting you sniff him first.
Your pink nose twitched as you caught the familiar scent of shadow-cursed energy and the faint aroma of the Divine Dogs on his clothes.
Satisfied that he was a friend, you leaned forward and rubbed your cheek firmly against his knuckles.
A tiny, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of Megumiās mouth.
He gently scratched behind your ears with two fingers. "She's... actually really soft."
"Hey! Hands off the merchandise!" Satoru was suddenly there.
In the blink of an eye, he had used his speed to appear right beside Megumi, scooping you up from the floor and cradling you against his chest like a furry infant.
You let out a disgruntled squeak as your legs dangled in the air. "Go on, shoo! Take your books and go practice your domain expansion or something! Leave us to our marital bliss!"
"You aren't married," Megumi said flatly, standing up and setting the books on the desk.
"Not yet, but look how well we look together! We match! White hair, black clothes, white fur, black sheets! It's aesthetic destiny!" Satoru nuzzled his cheek against your face, his blindfold scratching against your fur.
You tolerated it for exactly three seconds before pushing your front paws firmly against his lips, muffling his nonsense.
Megumi shook his head, turning toward the door. "Good luck, Y/n-sensei. I hope you turn back normal soon. For all our sakes."
As night fell over Tokyo, the Jujutsu High campus grew quiet.
The students were in their dorms, and the heavy silence of the mountain settled over the old wooden buildings.
In Satoruās room, the lights were dimmed, casting long, soft shadows across the floor.
Satoru was sitting on the floor, surrounded by three different takeout bags.
Because you were currently a cat, your regular diet of rice, fish, and vegetables had to be altered something Satoru had taken as a personal challenge.
"Okay, I bought premium sashimi from that Michelin-starred place in Ginza," Satoru announced, laying out tiny, perfectly cut pieces of raw tuna and salmon on a small porcelain plate.
"And just in case your human stomach rejects raw fish in this form, I also bought high-grade, organic, free-range chicken breast, gently poached with absolutely no salt. Behold! A feast fit for a queen!"
You trotted over, your nose twitching wildly.
The scent of the tuna was overwhelming, hitting some primal, deep-seated part of your temporary anatomy.
You didn't even hesitate.
You walked right up to the plate, lowered your head, and began to eat.
It was a strange sensation.
You were hyper-aware of the texture, the rich, fatty flavor of the fish satisfying a craving you hadn't known existed an hour ago.
Satoru watched you eat, his chin resting in his hand, a soft, incredibly gentle smile on his face.
He reached out, his thumb gently wiping away a tiny speck of fish from the corner of your whiskers.
"Slow down, beautiful. No oneās going to take it from you," he murmured.
His tone was surprisingly grounded, devoid of the loud, theatrical bravado he usually projected to the world. "You know... it's kind of nice. Having you like this. Usually, you're always running around, worrying about the students, worrying about the higher-ups, worrying about me."
You stopped eating, looking up at him with a piece of tuna still in your mouth.
Satoruās blue eyes were soft, reflecting the dim light of the room. "You carry a lot of weight on your shoulders, my love. You're always the responsible one. The one who cleans up after my messes, the one who makes sure the kids don't get killed by conservative old men. Seeing you just... sleep in a sunbeam all day? It's kind of a relief. You deserve a break. Even if it takes a weird Heian relic to give it to you."
You swallowed the fish, staring at him.
For all his arrogance, for all his infuriating antics, this was the man you loved.
The man who saw everything with his Six Eyes, but chose to look at you with the purest kind of devotion.
You walked away from the plate, stepping right over the remaining salmon, and climbed into his lap.
Satoru blinked in surprise as you settled down in the fold of his crossed legs.
You curled your tail tightly around your body, tucked your nose under your paw, and began to purr, a deep, steady rhythm that vibrated against his thighs.
"Ah," Satoru breathed, his hands hovering over you before gently lowering to stroke your back, his long fingers tracing the line of your spine.
"The royal lap-nap. I am truly honored."
He leaned back against the base of his bed, continuing to stroke your fur in long, rhythmic strokes.
The warmth of his body, combined with the safety of his Limitless keeping the rest of the cold world away, sent you drifting back into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The next morning, the cat tendencies had reached their absolute peak.
Satoru woke up at 6:00 AM to a strange, heavy weight sitting directly on his chest.
He cracked one eye open, shifting slightly, only to realize that you were sitting squarely on his sternum, staring down at his face with wide, unblinking eyes.
"Morning," Satoru mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, his white hair a chaotic bird's nest on the pillow.
"Did you miss me while I was sleeping?"
You didn't answer.
Instead, driven by a sudden, inexplicable burst of morning energy, the infamous "zoomies" you let out a sharp squeak, leapt off his chest using his face as a launching pad (which, thankfully, was blocked by his infinity), and bolted across the room.
You ran up the wall, bounced off the back of the leather couch, skidded across the hardwood floor, and began to furiously attack a loose thread on the rug, your back legs kicking wildly.
Satoru sat up, staring at you in absolute disbelief before bursting into loud, booming laughter. "Oh my god! Look at you go! You're a maniac! A tiny, fluffy maniac!"
You ignored him, suddenly spotting a new target: Satoruās discarded blindfold on the nightstand. You leaped up, grabbed the black fabric in your teeth, and hauled it down to the floor, wrestling with it as if it were a dangerous curse, rolling around in a chaotic tangle of white fur and black cloth.
"Hey! That's my brand!" Satoru laughed, sliding out of bed and dropping to his knees beside you.
He reached out to pull the blindfold away, but you let out a fierce little growl, your tiny claws clamping down on his hand.
"You're vicious in the morning," he noted, his voice full of amusement as he easily lifted both you and the blindfold into his arms. "Come on, let's get you some breakfast before you decide to eat my shoes."
The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion.
You were a ball of pure, unpredictable fluff.
You spent two hours hiding inside an empty cardboard box Satoru had left in the hallway, popping your head out to swat at his ankles every time he walked past.
You insisted on sitting on his shoulder while he made coffee, your tail draping over his collarbone like an expensive, living scarf.
But as the afternoon began to fade into evening, the heavy, magical weight of the transfiguration technique began to shift.
You were curled up on Satoruās chest while he lay on the couch, watching a movie.
The purring in your chest felt different now, less like a mechanical vibration and more like a deep, human heartbeat.
Your paws felt heavy, your skin tingling with a sudden, warm rush of cursed energy.
Satoru felt it instantly.
His Six Eyes tracked the rapid, sudden restructuring of the atoms around you, the transfiguration technique finally breaking under the weight of time.
"Whoa," Satoru said, his voice dropping as he quickly stood up, lifting you in his arms and placing you gently on the large bed just as a bright, soft glow of cursed energy enveloped your entire form.
The white fur began to recede, expanding, shifting.
The stubby legs elongated into smooth, familiar limbs.
The tiny, round head reshaped itself, long strands of your natural hair spilling across the black sheets as your human body materialized out of the light.
Within seconds, the cat was gone.
You lay on the bed, blinking against the ambient light of the room, your hands expanding and contracting as you stared at your fingers.
You were human again.
A completely naked human
"Welcome back, princess," a low, familiar voice cooed from above. He throws his white T-shirt at you.
Without questioning you pull it over your head.
You looked up.
Satoru was leaning over you, his hands planted on either side of your head, his white hair falling around his face like a frame.
His blue eyes were bright, sparkling with mischief, but beneath it lay that deep, fierce warmth that always made your heart skip a beat.
You let out a long, heavy breath, your voice finally returning to its normal, human register. "Satoru."
"Missed me?" he grinned, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.
"I was with you the whole time, you idiot," you mumbled, your arms aching with a sudden, overwhelming desire to hold him.
You reached up, wrapping your hands around his neck, pulling him down into a proper, deep embrace.
Satoru let out a soft sigh, his large arms wrapping securely around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.
"Yeah, but you didn't have arms to hug me with. And you kept biting my thumbs."
"Because you were being annoying," you complained, though you were smiling, your fingers running through his soft, white hair.
"I was an exemplary pet owner!" Satoru protested, lifting his head to look down at you, his thumb gently tracing your lower lip. "I bought you Michelin-starred sashimi. I let you sleep on my face. I gave you a sticky-note crown! You were royalty!"
"I remember," you whispered, your expression softening as you looked into those endless, beautiful blue eyes. "Thank you. For taking care of me."
Satoruās grin softened into something incredibly tender.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss that tasted of sweetness and familiarity.
It was a slow, deep reassurance that you were back, that the world was normal again, and that you were safe in his arms.
When he pulled back, his eyes traveled down to your hands, which were still resting on his shoulders.
"What?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.
Satoru smirked, a wicked, teasing glint in his eyes. "Nothing. It's just... your fingers are still flexing a little bit. Are you... are you still making biscuits on my shoulder?"
You froze, realizing with absolute horror that your hands were indeed rhythmically kneading the fabric of his shirt, driven by a lingering, phantom cat instinct.
Your face flushed a brilliant, burning red. You immediately pulled your hands back, slamming them over your face to hide your embarrassment. "Shut up! Shut up, Satoru! It's a muscle spasm!"
"Oh, it's a muscle spasm?" Satoru laughed loudly, throwing his head back as he collapsed beside you on the bed, pulling you tightly against his side.
He began to scratch the spot right beneath your human chin, making you gasp. "Does the little kitten want some more chicken? Does she want to sit in a sunbeam?"
"I am going to exorcise you," you muffled into his chest, though you didn't pull away. Instead, you let your head rest against his heart, listening to the steady, comforting beat, your fingers subconsciously tightening against his shirt once more.
Satoru chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, holding his favorite ball of fluff close to his heart, completely content to let the rest of the world fade away.
