characters: yami sukehiro, fuegoleon vermillion, nozel silva, & william vangeance
tags: fluff , multi characters x fem reader
a/n: i'm back with the scenarios ! sorry if it's been awhile, i'm just really busy with school and all
🍂 YAMI SUKEHIRO
The cool night air wrapped around you as you stumbled along the path, still feeling the warmth of the drinks you had with Yami back at the tavern. The night had been filled with loud laughter and challenges from overly confident patrons that Yami either shrugged off or jokingly threatened to handle with his sword.
Yami walked beside you, hands shoved casually into his pockets, his steps as steady as ever despite the amount of beer he’d downed. He glanced at you, clearly entertained by your struggle to walk in a straight line. “You’re wobbling like a newborn deer.” he teased, his smirk growing wider.
You shot him a glare, though you knew it lacked any real bite. “I’m not wobbling.” you insisted stubbornly, your voice slurring just a little. “I could walk a straight line if I wanted to.”
Yami raised an eyebrow, his grin daring you. “Oh yeah? Prove it.” He stopped, crossing his arms over his chest, clearly enjoying this far too much.
With an overly determined look, you tried to step forward, concentrating so hard that your tongue peeked out between your lips. But despite your best effort, your feet betrayed you, and you tripped. Yami quickly caught you, pulling you upright and steadying you against his chest.
“Yeah, real convincing.” he chuckled, keeping his strong arm around your waist. “Remind me to never let you talk yourself into a drinking contest again. You’d end up starting a bar brawl and lose.”
You scowled up at him, though you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at your own clumsiness. “I don’t need your help, Captain.” you grumbled, but you made no effort to move out of his hold. “I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”
His smirk grew more teasing. “Sure, Miss Independent.” he said, leaning in closer. “You’re strong as hell, but right now, you’re about as coordinated as a fish out of water. Admit it.”
“Never.” you shot back. But your pride softened, and you couldn’t hold back a smile. You let yourself rest in his embrace, at least for now.
Yami seemed pleased, but he wasn’t done teasing you yet. His eyes glinted with amusement as he added, “You know, you’re lucky I’m here to catch you when you do something reckless. Otherwise, I’d be scraping you off the pavement.”
You gasped, playfully swatting at his chest. “You’re the worst!” you exclaimed, though a grin spread across your face. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”
Yami shrugged, his smirk never fading. “Probably because I’m devastatingly handsome.” he said, then leaned in close, his voice dropping to a mock whisper. “And because you’re hopelessly in love with me.”
You rolled your eyes, but your heart skipped a beat. “Arrogant as ever.” you shot back, though the affection in your voice was undeniable. “One day, that ego of yours is going to be your downfall.”
“Maybe,” he replied, squeezing you a little tighter as the two of you continued down the road. “But at least I’ll have you to catch me when I fall, right?”
You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, you big idiot. Just don’t make me regret it.”
Yami let out a soft chuckle, and for a moment, the silliness fell away, replaced by a genuine warmth that lingered between you. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” he said, his voice unusually gentle before he quickly added, “Now hurry up. I don’t feel like carrying your drunk ass home if you pass out on me.”
You burst out laughing, nudging him playfully as the two of you continued down the path. The night felt perfect, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy leaning into his warmth, knowing that your silly, playful love would always make you feel this light.
🍂 FUEGOLEON VERMILLION
The mission had been a resounding success, but the celebration that followed had clearly taken its toll on you. Fuegoleon had joined the squad in raising a glass—or several—to the victory, but unlike you, he’d known when to stop. You, on the other hand, had indulged a little too freely in the wine.
Now, you found yourself lying on your bed, your limbs feeling heavy, and your head buzzing in that telltale way that meant you’d had far too much to drink. Fuegoleon sat on the edge of the bed, carefully removing your boots as you mumbled incoherent protests.
“You don’t have to do that.” you slurred weakly, though your attempt at resistance was half-hearted at best.
“And yet here I am.” Fuegoleon replied calmly, his voice laced with patience as he set your boots aside. “It seems tonight I have the honor of looking after you, my love.”
You blinked up at him, a hazy smile tugging at your lips. “You’re too good to me.” you murmured, the warmth of the wine in your system amplifying your emotions. “I don’t deserve you.”
Fuegoleon chuckled softly, reaching for a damp cloth. “If that’s true, then what does that say about me? I’m the one who chooses to stay by your side.”
You let out a breathy laugh, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment before you peeked at him again. “Probably that you’re too noble for your own good.”
“Or perhaps,” he countered, his voice quieter now, “I simply know a treasure when I see one.”
The words made your cheeks heat, and you let out a shy laugh. “Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.” you said teasingly, though your voice cracked ever so slightly.
Fuegoleon smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face before running the damp cloth over your hands. “No tears tonight, sweetheart. Only rest.”
You watched him in silence for a moment, taking in the way his purple eyes glowed softly in the lamplight, his every movement deliberate and tender. “You’re really handsome, you know that?” you murmured, the words spilling out before you could stop them.
Fuegoleon paused, glancing down at you with a look of amused surprise. “Am I now?”
You nodded with conviction, your voice growing dreamier. “Mm-hmm. Handsome and kind and strong and... warm. You’re everything, Fuegoleon.”
A faint blush colored his cheeks, but his smile didn’t waver as he set the cloth aside. “You’ve had too much to drink, my love.” he said softly, leaning in closer. “But I’ll take your words to heart.”
“I mean it.” you insisted, your voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re amazing. And I love you.”
He cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “I love you too.” he murmured, his voice full of warmth. “Now rest. You’ve earned it.”
You hummed in contentment, your eyes fluttering closed as sleep began to claim you.
Fuegoleon stayed by your side, his hand resting lightly over yours as he watched you drift into peaceful slumber. Even as the night stretched on, he remained there, his heart full and his resolve unshaken. For all your stubbornness and mischief, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
🍂 NOZEL SILVA
The night had gone exactly as Nozel predicted—messy. You’d gone out to celebrate your friend’s birthday, promising him you wouldn’t overdo it. Yet here you were, kneeling on the bathroom floor, your stomach emptying every last drop of the party’s "fun."
Nozel stood behind you, his hand carefully holding your hair back, the other steadying you with a light touch on your shoulder. His usual pristine demeanor was intact, save for the slight furrow in his brow and his sleeves rolled up—a rare sight that might’ve made you laugh if you weren’t currently miserable.
“I should’ve known.” he muttered, his voice calm but tinged with irritation. “Letting you go to a party unsupervised was clearly a mistake.”
You groaned, wiping your mouth weakly. “It was... one night. I don’t always do this.”
“Precisely why you don’t handle it well.” he replied, offering you a glass of water. “Drink. Slowly.”
You took the glass, sipping carefully before giving him a half-hearted grin. “Look at you, Sir High and Mighty, tending to a lowly drunk like me. Isn’t this beneath you, Captain Silva?”
He raised an eyebrow, his grip on your hair steady. “It’s certainly testing my patience.”
You laughed weakly, leaning against the wall. “Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this just a little. You love me too much to leave me here.”
He let out a sharp sigh, though his hand on your back moved in slow, soothing circles. “Loving you doesn’t mean I enjoy watching you throw up.”
You cooed, turning to look up at him with a tired smile. “You said you love me. That’s rare. Must be the alcohol working its magic.”
“Don’t push your luck.” he replied, though the faintest smile tugged at his lips. “Now stop talking nonsense and rest.”
“But you’re so handsome when you’re annoyed.” you teased, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch as he helped you shift into a more comfortable position. “It’s like... brooding prince energy.”
“Foolish woman.” he muttered, shaking his head, though his fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’ll be the death of me.”
“You'll live.” you murmured, your voice softening as sleep started to creep in. “You’d miss me too much if I wasn’t around to drive you crazy.”
Nozel paused, his amber eyes softening as he gazed at you. “Perhaps.” he admitted, his voice so low you almost didn’t hear it. “Now sleep, before you say anything else you’ll regret.”
You gave a small laugh, your head lolling to the side as exhaustion overtook you. “No regrets... just you.”
As your breathing evened out, Nozel sighed, his hand lingering on your back for a moment longer before he stood. He quietly adjusted the blanket draped over you, his usual sharpness replaced by a rare tenderness.
“Rest well, my love.” he murmured, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “I’ll be here.”
🍂 WILLIAM VANGEANCE
It had been one of those days where everything felt overwhelmingly boring. After a mission, everyone had dispersed to rest, and you found yourself wandering the halls, feeling antsy. The idea of a drink crossed your mind—just to pass the time and try something new. You'd never really been interested in alcohol, but today, curiosity got the better of you.
You found an unopened bottle of something fruity-looking in the pantry, poured yourself a small glass, and took a sip. It wasn’t bad. A little sweet, a little tangy. You went back for another, and before long, you’d emptied half the bottle. You could feel it starting to settle in—everything was a bit fuzzy, but nothing you couldn’t handle.
After a while, the alcohol made you feel a little too good, a little too brave. You thought about how lovely it would be to visit William. You had to tell him something important, after all.
You made your way to his office, swaying slightly as you walked, still feeling the warmth spread through you. When you entered, William looked up from his desk, and for a moment, his expression was a mix of surprise and concern.
"Y/N?" he asked, standing up immediately, his brow furrowed in worry. "What’s wrong?"
You smiled up at him, feeling unusually lighthearted. Without thinking, you dropped to one knee in front of him. “William Vangeance.” you said dramatically, though your voice was slightly slurred. “Will you marry me?”
William froze, his eyes widening, clearly taken aback. "Y/N, what are you—" His voice softened as he rushed over, kneeling in front of you. “You’re drunk.”
You giggled, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “I’m not drunk, I just… really love you.” you said, trying to focus on him. “You’re kind and smart and… and perfect. How could I not want to marry you?”
William’s expression softened, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He reached out and gently cupped your face, his touch tender. “My love,” he said softly, “You’re a little tipsy right now, aren’t you?”
You nodded, still smiling up at him, completely at ease. “Maybe. But it’s still true.” you said, your voice warm with affection. “You’re everything to me, William. I’m lucky to know you.”
He chuckled lightly, the worry in his eyes replaced by something softer. “You’re adorable when you’re drunk.” he murmured, his voice fond as he helped you sit back down on the floor. “But I think we should get you comfortable. You’re not thinking straight.”
You pouted, but it was more playful than anything. “I am thinking straight.” you said, leaning into his chest as he wrapped his arm around you, helping you to the couch. “I’m just being honest.”
William's arms wrapped around you more securely as he guided you onto the couch. He sat beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His voice was calm, but affectionate. “You’ve always been honest with me, even when you're sober. But I think tonight, we’ll keep the marriage talk for another day.”
You relaxed into his embrace, still feeling giddy and safe in his arms. “But one day, though.” you murmured, your eyes fluttering a little. “Promise me we’ll talk about it when I’m not… all wobbly.”
William smiled softly, his heart full of affection for you. “I promise.” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “But for now, just rest. You’ve had a long day, my love.”
You hummed, leaning into his warmth, the world around you beginning to fade into the comfort of his arms. “You’re so sweet, William. I’m glad you’re here.”
He held you close, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m always here for you, Y/N. Always.”
You sighed contentedly, letting the last of your energy slip away as you drifted off in his embrace.
characters: yami sukehiro , nozel silva , fuegoleon vermillion , and william vangeance
tags: fluff , multi characters x gn! reader
a/n: i had this idea bc i'm currently sick rn
🔮 YAMI SUKEHIRO
Yami knew two things for certain.
First–he was terrible at this.
Second–no one else was doing it.
You were supposed to be resting. That was an order. He’d said it clearly, in the same tone he used when assigning missions. And yet every time someone from the squad so much as hovered near the door with an offer to help, Yami shut it down without hesitation.
“I’ve got it.”
No explanation. No room for argument.
Truth was, he didn’t know what he was doing. He stood there longer than necessary, arms crossed, watching your chest rise and fall like he was waiting for instructions that never came. Caretaking wasn’t like fighting–there was no clear enemy, no instinct to lean on. Just stillness. Fragility.
It irritated him.
You looked smaller like this. Quieter. Not pushing yourself, not snapping back with that stubborn spark he was used to. The sight of it sat wrong in his chest.
He adjusted the blanket anyway, tugging it up with less force than he meant to use. The room was too quiet. He cracked the window just enough for fresh air, then closed it again when he decided it was too much. He set a glass of water within reach. Moved it closer. Then closer still.
You stirred.
“Oi.” he said immediately. “Don’t get up.”
“I wasn’t…” you muttered.
“Tch. Looked like it.”
He checked your temperature within the back of his hand, scowling when it was still too warm, like that was something you’d done on purpose.
“This is stupid.” he grumbled. “You’re not supposed to be this hot.”
You gave a weak huff. “Wow. Incredible medical insight, Captain.”
“Shut up and rest.”
A knock at the door. Someone offered to help.
Yami didn’t turn. “Get lost.”
When the footsteps left, the room went quiet again. He took the chair by your bed and sat heavily, arms crossed, pretending this was nothing. Just waiting it out. Definitely not watching every breath you took.
He sighed, already knowing how this would end. He leaned forward just enough for you to reach him.
“Don’t get used to this.”
You didn’t answer. You were already drifting off.
Yami stayed anyway–irritated, out of his depth, and not letting anyone else take over.
🔮 NOZEL SILVA
Nozel knew exactly what to do in situations like this.
Assess the condition.
Ensure proper treatment.
Minimize further risk.
What he did not know how to do was… whatever this was supposed to be.
You were resting, as instructed. He had personally ensured it–dismissed healers only after they confirmed you were stable, arranged the room to be quiet, dim, and undisturbed. Everything was in order.
And yet, standing beside your bed, Nozel felt uncharacteristically unsure of where to place his hands.
You shifted slightly, brows knitting, breath uneven. Instinctively, he reached out–then stopped himself halfway. Too abrupt would startle you. Too light might be improper. He hesitated long enough to be annoyed with himself before finally adjusting the blanket with careful, measured movements.
There. Adequate.
You stirred again. “Nozel…?”
His spine straightened at once. “You’re awake.”
“Unfortunately.” you murmured. “My head feels… very loud.”
He frowned, immediately scanning for signs of worsening symptoms. “Does the pain persist?”
“Yes. But don’t look at me like that–it’s not dire.”
“I am not looking at you in any particular way.”
You glanced at him. “You kind of are…”
Nozel cleared his throat and looked away.
He reached for the glass of water he’d already prepared, holding it out–then realizing belatedly that you’d have to sit up to take it. He paused.
“May I?” he asked stiffly.
You blinked once, then nodded. “Sure.”
He supported you with far more care than he’d ever use in battle, movements slow and deliberate, as though afraid any miscalculation would cause harm. When you leaned back again, he released you immediately, hands retreating like he’d crossed an invisible line.
You took a sip of water. “You’re being very… careful.”
“That is the point,” he replied.
You smiled faintly. “You look like you’re handling a fragile artifact.”
“You are unwell.” he said, which was apparently his best defense.
Silence settled between you to–comfortable, if unfamiliar. Nozel remained standing, uncertain whether sitting was appropriate. Leaving was out of the question.
After a moment, you spoke again. “You can sit, you know.”
He hesitated, then took the chair beside the bed, posture still rigid. His presence was steady, attentive, but restrained–like he was afraid of doing too much, or too little.
“If there is something you acquire,” he said quietly. “You will inform me.”
You looked at him for a long second. “You’re doing fine.”
He didn’t respond. Compliments were difficult to process at the best of times.
Still, when your eyes finally closed again and your breathing evened out, he stayed right where he was–watchful, composed, and learning, slowly, how to be gentle without a rulebook.
🔮 FUEGOLEON VERMILLION
The palace was quiet here, far enough from the commotion that only the distant sounds of voices and hurried footsteps reached you. Fuegoleon had led you away himself, insisting you rest, and now it was just the two of you. He settled beside you carefully, making sure the blanket around your shoulders was snug without feeling heavy.
“You’ve pushed yourself too hard.” he said quietly, not accusatory, only firm. You tried to protest, but he shook his head slightly. “Not now. Just rest.”
His hands hovered for a moment, then he placed it lightly on your arm–not gripping, not pressing, just steady. Warm. Calm. You could feel the faint heat of his magic, controlled and gentle, brushing away the chill that had crept over you. It wasn’t strong, not overwhelming–just enough to make your muscles relax, to calm your pulse.
“Better?” he naked softly.
You nodded, and he allowed a small, satisfied breath to escape him. Fuegoleon stayed close, sitting just far enough not to crowd you, but close enough that you could feel his presence. His shoulder brushed yours lightly now and then as he shifted, always careful, always deliberate.
“You don’t need to worry about anything.” he said, voice low. “I’ll take care of everything here. You only need to focus on getting better.”
Your lips curved into a small, tired smile. “You always seem so calm. It’s… nice.”
Fuegoleon glanced at you, expression softening just a little. “It’s because someone needs to be,” he murmured. “If I lose my calm, then you’ll feel worse. So I stay calm. For you.”
You leaned back against the blankets, letting your head rest lightly on the pillow. He adjusted it slightly for comfort, then brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead with the tip of his fingers. Even the smallest movements were careful, deliberate, as if he feared any sudden motion might disturb you.
“You’re very warm.” you said, the words quiet, almost hesitant.
"I know." he replied, tone steady, but the faintest hint of a smile played on his lips. “It’s better than cold.”
He stayed with you as the minutes passed, neither speaking unnecessarily nor leaving your side. His magic pulsed softly now, a gentle, warming rhythm that seemed to settle around you like a protective cloak. You could feel the steady heat in his hand, the warmth in the air, and the quiet reassurance in his posture.
When your eyes fluttered shut, he leaned back slightly, still close enough that you could feel him, still radiating that quiet, unshakable calm. No words. No fuss. Just him and the warmth, and the feeling that for this moment, nothing could reach you as long as he was there.
And in that silence, you realized–you could rest. Truly rest–for the first time in days–and he would stay. Always steady. Always careful. Always Fuegoleon.
🔮 WILLIAM VANGEANCE
The moment he realized you were unwell, William moved with quiet, purposeful care.
He didn’t rush, didn’t hover. There was no panic, no loud fussing–only deliberate, gentle movements, each one designed to make you more comfortable. He adjusted the blanket around your shoulders, straightened the pillows, and ensured the room was calm, quiet, and warm. Every action was precise, considered, deliberate, and somehow soothing in its rhythm.
In the kitchen, he prepared a simple meal. Tea first, carefully steeped so the flavor was gentle but comforting. Then food, soft, easy to eat, nourishing without being overwhelming. He arranged it neatly on a tray, checking that the cup wouldn’t spill and that the bowls were balanced just right. Even the napkin was folded with care.
Returning to your room, he moved slowly, carrying the tray like it was the most important thing in the world–because, to him, it was. He placed it within your reach and sat beside you, close enough to offer support without crowding.
“I prepared this for you.” he said softly, voice calm and warm. “It should be gentle… easy to manage.”
You blinked up at him, comforted by the serene attentiveness in his expression. “Thank you.” you whispered.
He gave a small, soft smile, careful not to draw attention to himself. “You need only focus on resting.” he murmured.
He guided your hands to the cup, steadying them lightly. “Careful.” he reminded, his voice just above a whisper. “It is still warm.”
When you sipped, he watched closely, eyes full of quiet concern, yet calm enough that his presence felt like a protective cloak rather than pressure. Every little adjustment–the tray, the blanket, the angle of the pillow–was executed with precision, as if he feared a single mistake might inconvenience you.
Between sips and bites, he stayed near, sometimes reaching out to brush a stray hair from your forehead, other times simply resting his hand nearby, letting you feel the warmth and steadiness of his presence. He did not speak unnecessarily, yet every small action conveyed care and attentiveness.
At one point, you leaned back, letting out a quiet sigh, and he adjusted his blanket again, tucking it around you with gentle insistence. “There.” he said softly. “Much better.”
You looked at him and offered a tired, grateful smile. “You’re very attentive.”
William’s expression softened, though still calm and composed. “I simply wish to ensure you are comfortable. Nothing more is required than that you rest and recover.”
And so he stayed. Quiet, steady, warm. The world outside could wait. The chaos of the battlefield , the demands of the day, the worries of others–all of it melted away in the safety of his presence.
When your eyes fluttered closed, he remained, adjusting the blanket one last time, making sure your head rested just right. His hand lingered nearby, a subtle reassurance.
In that moment, the soft glow of the room and the calm of William Vangeance’s care wrapped around you completely, making it impossible not to feel safe, protected, and–without needing to speak–deeply cared for.
a/n: i forgot to add william in my last post so here's my apology for him shjsksksks, i'm so sorry that i forgot him 😭
🍁 YAMI SUKEHIRO
The tavern is lively tonight, filled with the usual rowdy crowd. After a long mission, there’s nothing better than unwinding with a drink in hand, especially with Yami by my side. We’re sitting at the bar, close enough that our shoulders brush together every time one of us moves. It’s a small comfort, a reminder that he’s here, and that I’m safe.
The Black Bulls are scattered around the tavern, celebrating in their usual chaotic fashion. Magna and Asta are arm-wrestling in the corner, while Finral is attempting to flirt with a group of local girls, much to Charmy’s amusement as she devours her feast. The laughter and chatter create a warm, buzzing atmosphere that feels like home.
Yami leaned in closer to me, his deep voice rumbling softly in my ear. “You did good out there today. Not bad for someone who’s usually stuck doing paperwork.”
I smirked, nudging him with my elbow. “I’m more than just a pretty face, Captain.”
He chuckled, taking a swig of his drink. “Damn right you are.”
The comfortable banter between us had always been there, but tonight felt different. Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through our veins, or maybe it was just the warmth of the tavern and the closeness we shared.
As I take a sip of my drink, a group of regulars from the tavern comes over, striking up a conversation. They’ve clearly had a few too many, but their curiosity gets the better of them. One of them, a burly man with a grin that shows off a missing tooth, looks between Yami and me.
“So, what’s the deal with you two?” he asks, his voice slurred.
I feel a mischievous smile tug at my lips as I lean back in my chair, deciding to have a little fun. “Oh, he's my husband.” The words come out before I can fully think them through, but once they’re out there, I don’t regret them. There’s a split second where everything feels like it’s frozen in time—like the whole tavern is holding its breath.
Yami, who had been in the middle of taking a drink, nearly chokes. He looks at me with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of shock and amusement. The rest of the group looks between us, unsure if they should laugh or back away slowly.
“Husband, huh?” Yami finally says, setting his drink down and wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s trying to play it cool, but I can see the redness creeping up his neck and to his cheeks.
I give him a cheeky grin, tilting my head slightly. “Yeah, you got a problem with that… husband?”
The word feels strange on my tongue, but it also feels right. And by the way Yami’s looking at me, I can tell it hit him just as hard. He leans closer, his face just inches from mine now, and I can see the playful glint in his eyes.
“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that one.” he says, his voice low and teasing. But the way his lips quirk up and his ears turn a little red gives him away. He’s as flustered as I am.
“I’d like to see you try.” I shoot back, my heart racing faster than it should. There’s a charged energy between us, something more than just the usual teasing banter.
For a moment, we just stare at each other, the noise of the tavern fading into the background. His face is so close, and all I can think about is how red his cheeks are—how red mine must be too. It’s ridiculous, really. We’ve been together for a while now, and yet, this simple word, “husband,” has both of us acting like nervous teenagers.
Yami’s the first to break the silence, laughing softly as he pulls back slightly, his grin widening. “You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?”
I roll my eyes, though I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. “Yeah, yeah. You know you liked it.”
He gives me a look that’s half amused, half something else—something warmer. “Maybe I did.” he admits, his voice quieter now, almost serious.
There’s a moment where neither of us says anything. Then, as if realizing how sappy things are getting, Yami suddenly grabs his mug, downing the rest of his drink in one go. I laugh, the tension breaking as easily as it had formed.
But even as we go back to our usual banter, teasing each other about anything and everything, I can’t help but notice how his hand occasionally brushes against mine or how his gaze lingers just a little too long.
And when the night finally ends and we head back to the base, Yami pulls me close, his arm around my waist, and whispers in my ear, “G’night, wife.”
My heart skips a beat, and I look up at him, seeing the same flustered expression on his face.
“Goodnight, husband.” I whisper back, feeling my face flush once more.
We walk the rest of the way in comfortable silence, both of us trying to hide our smiles in the darkness of the night.
🍁 FUEGOLEON VERMILLION
The grand hall of the Vermillion estate is quiet tonight, a serene stillness settling over the room. The warm, golden glow from the fireplace bathes the space in a comforting light, making the shadows dance along the walls. Fuegoleon and I are nestled together on a plush couch, wrapped in a peaceful silence that feels as intimate as any conversation. His arm is draped over my shoulders, fingers gently playing with a strand of my hair, and I find myself leaning into him, savoring the rare moment of calm.
The day had been long, filled with duties and obligations that left little time for us. But now, with the world outside feeling so far away, it’s just the two of us. This, I think, is my favorite part of the day.
I tilt my head to look up at him, admiring the way the firelight softens his usually stern features. “You know,” I begin softly, a playful tone creeping into my voice, “I could get used to spending my evenings like this.”
Fuegoleon looks down at me, a curious smile playing on his lips. “And what exactly would that be?” he asks, his voice warm.
“With my husband.” I reply, the words slipping out almost too casually, though the impact of them is anything but.
For a moment, everything seems to pause. Fuegoleon’s eyes widen slightly, the word clearly catching him off guard. He blinks, processing what I just said, and I can see the faintest hint of pink rising to his cheeks. Despite his usually composed demeanor, there’s a flicker of something more vulnerable in his expression, something that makes my heart swell.
“Husband.” he repeats, almost as if he’s testing the word on his tongue. His voice is calm, but there’s a softness in it that wasn’t there before. I can tell that he’s flustered, though he’s trying to hide it behind that noble composure.
I smile up at him, feeling a bit giddy at his reaction. “Yes, my husband.” I say, a little more firmly this time, enjoying the way the word makes him react. “That’s what you are, after all.”
Fuegoleon lets out a soft, almost nervous laugh, the sound so unlike his usual self that it makes my heart skip a beat. “Well then,” he begins, his voice gentle but tinged with a warmth that makes my cheeks flush, “if I’m your husband, then that must make you… my wife.”
Now it’s my turn to feel flustered, the weight of his words sinking in. There’s something so intimate, so precious about hearing him call me that, and I can feel my face heating up in response. But it’s not just the words, it’s the way he says them, with such sincerity and affection that it makes me want to melt into the cushions.
He notices my reaction, and a soft smile spreads across his face, his eyes filled with a rare, tender warmth. Fuegoleon shifts slightly, his hand cupping my cheek as he leans in closer. “My wife.” he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper, but filled with so much emotion that it makes my heart flutter.
I lean into his touch, my own smile widening as I meet his gaze. “I think I like the sound of that,” I murmur, my voice trembling slightly with the overwhelming rush of affection I feel for him.
His thumb brushes gently across my cheek, and for a moment, it feels like the entire world has narrowed down to just the two of us. “And I think I like calling you that.” he replies softly, his eyes never leaving mine.
Fuegoleon leans down, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead, the gesture so full of love that it takes my breath away. As he pulls back, his gaze lingers on mine, and I can see the soft blush that still colors his cheeks. It’s a rare sight to see him this flustered, and it makes the moment all the more special.
“Husband.” he says again, the word almost reverent, as if he’s savoring it. “I promise, I’ll always do my best to be worthy of that title.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, not wanting to miss a second of this moment. “And I’ll always be here by your side.” I whisper, my voice filled with all the love I feel for him.
He pulls me closer, wrapping me in his arms, and I can feel the steady beat of his heart against my own. As we sit there, the warmth of the fire and the comfort of his embrace surrounding us, I realize that this—right here, with him—is all I’ll ever need.
And as the night drifts on, and the flames in the fireplace begin to die down, Fuegoleon’s hand remains intertwined with mine, a silent promise that whatever the future holds, we’ll face it together, as husband and wife.
🍁 NOZEL SILVA
The grand hall of the Silva estate is elegantly decorated for Nozel’s birthday. Soft lights and floral arrangements create a warm, inviting atmosphere, and the guests mingle with drinks in hand. Despite the festive mood, Nozel stands somewhat aloof, his usual stern demeanor reflecting his indifference towards birthdays. Yet, he appears subtly touched by the effort around him.
As the evening progresses, a series of heartfelt messages are shared in Nozel’s honor. When it’s my turn, I step up with a blend of excitement and affection, feeling both nervous and eager to speak.
Nozel looks at me with his usual calm but curious gaze, and I begin.
“Happy birthday, Nozel. I know you often think birthdays are just another day, but I wanted to take this moment to tell you how much you mean to me. Your strength and dedication are truly admirable, but it’s your kindness and support that touch my heart the most. I’m incredibly grateful for every day we spend together.”
The room is silent as everyone listens, clearly moved by my words. Nozel’s expression softens, a rare, tender smile gracing his lips. The crowd watches with anticipation.
I take a playful breath and add, “And, since it’s your special day,” I continue, “I guess I should mention… I’m glad to be with you, my husband.”
A collective gasp echoes through the hall, followed by curious whispers. “They’re married? When did that happen?” The room buzzes with surprise.
Nozel’s face turns a deep shade of red, his usual calm composure replaced by an endearing fluster. I can’t help but chuckle, enjoying the playful chaos I’ve stirred.
After the applause, Nozel approaches me with a sheepish but affectionate smile. “Did you really have to drop that bombshell in front of everyone?” His voice is gentle, tinged with a mix of embarrassment and fondness.
I look up at him, my cheeks flushed from both the excitement and his reaction. “I just thought it would make your birthday more memorable.” I tease with a wink.
Nozel’s blush deepens, but his eyes soften as he gazes at me. “I appreciate that.” he says, his smile widening. “It’s nice to know you care enough to tease me like this.”
I squeeze his hand playfully. “Even if it’s just teasing, I wanted to remind you that you’re deeply loved and appreciated. I hope it made you smile.”
Nozel’s expression turns even more tender, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You certainly succeeded in making me smile. And... I have to admit, I’m starting to like the sound of ‘husband’.”
As the evening continues, our playful banter becomes a sweet part of the celebration. Nozel, embracing the nickname, uses it with a fond smile. His initial embarrassment fades into a comfortable affection, and he begins to tease me back with a charmingly flustered grin.
When the soft strains of music fill the room, Nozel extends his hand with a gracious smile. “May I have this dance, my wife?”
I nod, feeling my heart flutter with happiness. As we move to the center of the room, Nozel’s hand is gentle but firm, guiding me with care. After a few moments, he leans in and kisses the back of my hand, his eyes full of warmth.
“I’m glad to have you by my side,” he murmurs softly. “And I’m grateful for every moment we share, teasing or otherwise.”
I smile up at him, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “And I’m glad to be with you, husband.”
As we continue to dance, surrounded by the soft glow of the candles and the cheerful hum of the celebration, the night transforms into a moment of genuine connection and affection, making it a birthday to remember for both of us.
🍁 WILLIAM VANGEANCE
The flower shop is a haven of tranquility, its shelves bursting with colorful blooms and sweet fragrances. William and I are browsing, searching for a special flower to celebrate our relationship. As I sift through the flowers, my excitement builds, knowing this day is about cherishing our bond.
Spotting the elderly shopkeeper, I approach her with a warm smile. “Excuse me, I’m looking for white orchids. They’re for my husband.”
The shopkeeper’s eyes light up with a gentle smile. “White orchids, you say? We have a lovely bouquet in the back. Let me get it for you.”
As she heads to retrieve the flowers, I glance back at William. He’s standing a little ways behind me, his face slightly flushed and a soft smile on his lips. He seems genuinely touched by my casual use of “husband.” and it makes my heart flutter.
William steps closer, his voice tender yet playful. “You really didn’t have to call me that in public. It’s… unexpected.”
I turn to him, my eyes filled with affection. “I wanted to. It feels right to call you that, even if it’s just a playful term. It’s a small way to show how much you mean to me.”
William’s cheeks are tinged with pink, and he looks at me with a mix of surprise and warmth. “Well, I have to admit, it’s quite endearing. It’s not something I expected today, but it certainly made me smile.”
The shopkeeper returns with a bouquet of pristine white orchids, placing it gently on the counter. I take the bouquet, feeling its delicate beauty. As I hold it close, I feel William’s hand brush against mine, and he leans in slightly.
“Thank you for choosing these,” he says, his voice soft. “They’re perfect, just like you.”
I blush, feeling a deep sense of joy. “I’m glad you think so. I wanted to do something special for you. Even if it’s just a small gesture, it means a lot to me.”
William’s smile grows, and he reaches out to gently tuck a white orchid from the bouquet into my hair. His touch is tender, and his eyes are filled with a loving gaze. “This flower suits you perfectly. It’s a symbol of how much you mean to me.”
I feel my heart race at his sweet gesture. “Thank you. It’s beautiful, and it makes this moment even more special.”
As we leave the shop after purchasing, hand in hand with the bouquet between us, William’s gaze is soft and affectionate. “I have to say, I’m not embarrassed by the nickname. It makes me happy. It’s a reminder of how lucky I am to have you in my life.”
I smile, feeling a warm blush on my cheeks. “I’m glad you like it. It’s just a small way of saying how much I love being with you.”
William’s smile deepens as he gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “And I love every moment we share. You’ve made today unforgettable.”
Walking together, the bouquet of white orchids between us, the day feels magical. William’s gentle touch and the warmth of our shared moments make everything feel perfect, and I feel deeply connected and cherished.
🍁 JACK
During a lively festival, Jack and Yami are locked in a heated cooking competition. The atmosphere is electric, with people cheering and enjoying the festivities.
Jack and Yami are both in the middle of preparing their dishes at their respective stalls. The crowd is watching intently, and the rivalry between the two is adding to the excitement of the event.
As Jack is focused on his cooking, he suddenly starts arguing with Yami about the best way to cook a dish. Their bickering gets louder and more intimidating. Trying to intervene and bring some calm, I step in.
“Alright, you two, enough already!” I say, trying to be heard over their arguing.
Jack turns to me, looking slightly frazzled. “What’s the matter?”
I roll my eyes playfully. “You’re making a scene, Jack. You need to focus on your cooking and stop fighting.”
Jack’s eyes widen in shock, and he tries to respond, but I cut him off. “And as much as I adore you, you really need to stop being such a loudmouth. I suppose that’s just how my husband acts.”
The entire area goes quiet for a moment, with everyone turning to look at us. Jack freezes, his eyes widening in shock. Yami bursts into laughter, clearly enjoying Jack’s reaction.
“Husband?” Yami calls out, laughing. “You two are married now?”
Jack’s face turns bright red, and he looks around, clearly flustered. “W-what? No, it’s just—”
I give him a teasing smile, enjoying the effect of my words. “Just a slip of the tongue, Jack. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Jack tries to regain his composure but is clearly struggling. “Yeah, sure. Just a slip of the tongue,” he mumbles, trying to hide his embarrassment.The crowd starts chuckling softly, enjoying the unexpected turn of events. Yami continues to tease Jack, while Jack tries to focus on the competition, though his flustered state makes it difficult.
As the festival winds down and we finish packing up, Jack approaches me with a slightly nervous but hopeful expression. He pulls out a small, neatly wrapped box from his bag.
“Hey,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant. “I, uh, brought you something.”
I look at the box with curiosity. “What’s this?”
“It’s nothing special,” Jack replies quickly, trying to downplay it. “Just a little something I thought you might like.”
I open the box to find a portion of my favorite food, carefully prepared and packed. My heart warms at the sight.
“This is really sweet of you. Thank you.”
Jack scratches the back of his head, looking a bit embarrassed. “Yeah, well, you mentioned you liked it a lot, so I figured... you know.”
I smile, reaching out to give him a gentle hug. “It means a lot to me. Thank you.”
Jack smiles back, a hint of pride in his eyes. “Don’t mention it. Just... don’t expect me to call you ‘wife’ all the time or anything.”
I laugh, holding the box close. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
As we walk away from the festival, Jack occasionally glances at me, clearly pleased by my reaction. The playful teasing from earlier is replaced with a comfortable, warm feeling between us. The evening ends with us enjoying the food Jack made, sharing stories and laughter under the stars, with the sweet memory of his thoughtful gesture adding a special touch to the night.
characters: yami sukehiro , nozel silva , fuegoleon vermillion , and william vangeance
tags: fluff , multicharacters x gn!reader
a/n: spending the holidays with their s/o ! HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYBODY !
🔮 YAMI SUKEHIRO
The idea had sounded simple.
Decorate the tree. Together.
Yami had agreed with a shrug and a "Yeah, sure." which in hindsight should've been your first warning.
The second warning came when he grabbed the box of lights and immediately tried to plug them in without untangling anything.
The result was a tight, aggressive knot of wires.
He stared at it for a long moment.
"Huh."
You looked over from where you were opening the ornament box. "You didn't untangle them."
"They'll untangle themselves." he said confidently."
"They absolutely will not."
Yami gave the bundle a small sake. It somehow got worse.
He scoffed.
You stepped in, taking the lights from his hands. "Here. You hold this end."
He did. Wrong end. The knot tightened again,
You sighed. "The other end."
"I'm trying." he muttered, crouching beside you. He watched in silence as you worked the knot apart with practiced patience. After a minute, he squinted. "How the hell are you doing that?"
"By not fighting it."
"Sounds fake."
Once the lights were finally free, Yami insisted on putting them on the tree himself.
He started in the middle.
Not the top. Not the bottom. The middle.
You watched him wrap the lights around one section three times before pausing. "Why are you concentrating them there…?"
"Focal point." he said. "This part's important."
"The rest of the tree feels left out."
"They'll get over it."
You gently redirected him upward, fixing the spacing as you went. He didn't protest—just grumbled under his breath while pretending he hadn't noticed.
Then came the ornaments.
Yami picked one up, turned it over in his hand, adn hung it immediately.
On the weakest branch.
You saw the branch bend. "Yami."
"It's fine."
The branch bent more.
You caught the ornament just in time before it fell. "That was not fine."
He laughed, unapologetic. "Alright, maybe not that one."
The next ornament went straight onto the same branch.
You stared at him.
"What?"
"That branch remembers you."
He snorted and finally moved on, though not before clustering three ornaments far too close together. The tree looked like it had opinions.
At some point, Yami stepped back to admire his work—and stepped directly into a box of tinsel.
There was a brief silence.
Then, "Why is the floor attacking me?"
You laughed as he lifted his boot, silver strands clinging stubbornly. "You're losing a fight to decorations."
"I've fought worse."
"Have you though?"
By the time you finished, the tree was… uneven. The lights weren't perfectly spaced. A few ornaments were crooked. One section was suspiciously empty.
Yami crossed his arms, surveying it. "Looks good."
You tilted your head. "It looks like it survived you."
"Exactly. Strong tree."
You fixed one last ornament, nudging it just enough to balance things out. When you stepped back, Yami's arm came around your shoulder easily, pulling you in like it was instinct.
"You always do that." he said.
"Do what?"
"Make things look better without trying to make them perfect."
You leaned into his side. "Someone has to counteract you."
He huffed a quiet laugh, resting his chin lightly against your head. The tree glowed softly beside you—warm, messy, unmistakably yours.
"Next year…" Yami spoke. "I'm supervising again."
You smiled. "You already were."
"Yeah." he replied, voice easy, content. "And look how great it turned out."
He didn't move. Neither did you.
And honestly, the crooked lights and stubborn tinsel felt just right.
🔮 NOZEL SILVA
Nozel had planned everything.
The decorations were tasteful and minimal—red, green, and soft candlelight arranged with precise symmetry. The tree stood perfectly upright, every ornament spaced evenly, each ribbon measured and tied just so. The table was set formally, polished to the point of reflection.
It was, in every sense, a proper holiday.
You noticed the moment you stepped in. "It's very organized." you said carefully.
Nozel inclined his head. "holiday traditions are meant to be observed by dignity."
You smiled, amused but fond. "Of course they are."
Dinner passed quietly, comfortably. He ensured your plate was warm before his own, poured your drink first, and corrected the fire when it crackled to loudly. Every moment was deliberate, every detail attended to.
Yet as the evening stretched on, the formality began to soften.
Later, you sat closer by the fie. Without comment, he removed his gloves and put it on your hands when the room cooled. His finger lingered a second too long before retreating.
You smiled softly and slipped them on. They were warm. Familiar. Unmistakably his.
"There is something I wished to give you." he said.
He retrieved a small, neatly wrapped box from the table, holding it with both hands as he returned. He hesitated before offering it to you, eyes fixed on the fire instead.
"It is practical." he said. "And refined. I considered its utility carefully. However—" He stopped, jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. "If it is unsuitable, you are not obligated to—"
You took the box gently. "Nozel."
He fell silent.
You opened it slowly. Inside was something elegant and understated—chosen with care, clearly meant to last. Thoughtful. Useful. Very him.
Your expression softened. "It's perfect."
He studied your face, searching for any hint of courtesy rather than sincerity.
"It is?" he asked.
You nodded. "You thought about me when you chose it. That matter more than anything."
For a moment, he aid nothing. Then he exhaled—a quiet release of tension you hadn't realized he was holding.
"I am relieved." he admitted.
You shifted closer, the warmth of the fir settling around you. Without thinking, Nozel reached out and adjusted the gloves still resting on your hands, ensuring they were properly fitted.
"You may keep them." he added, after a pause. "If you wish."
You looked up at him. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." he said, softly but firmly. "I would prefer it."
You leaned against his shoulder then, gently, giving him time to pull away if he wished.
He didn't.
Instead, he remained still—and after a moment, allowed his shoulder to relax into you. His hand rested near yours, close enough to warm, not quite touching.
The fire crackled softly. Outside, winter pressed against the windows—but inside, Nozel stayed with you, no longer bound by formality alone.
A proper holiday.
And something more.
🔮 FUEGOLEON VERMILLION
Snow crunched beneath your boots as another snowball sailed through the air.
Fuegoleon caught sight of it just in time—tilting his head as it burst against his shoulder in a soft spray of white. He blinked once, then let out a quiet laugh.
"Well struck." he said, already scooping to gather snow for his own.
You barely had time to react before his throw landed near your feet, close enough to make you jump. It wasn't aggressive—measured, careful, like everything he did. He knew exactly how strong you are. He trusted you. That was why he didn't hesitate to play along.
The snowball fight continued, light and rhythmic. Footsteps, laughter, quick dodged. The winter air bit pleasantly at first, your breath fogging between throws.
Then Fuegoleon noticed it.
You slowed. Just slightly. Your shoulders drew inward between movements, hands lingering too long at your sides before gathering more snow.
He stopped mid-motion.
Another snowball was already in his hand, but he let it fall apart instead. His gaze sharpened—not alarmed, but focused, attentive.
"Enough." he said, firmly but gently.
You looked up, surprised. "What? I as about to—"
He crossed the distance between you in a few long steps. Close now, he could see the faint tension in your posture, the way you tried to brush off the cold.
"You're chilled." he said. Not a question.
"I'm fine." you replied automatically, though your voice betrayed you just a little.
Fuegoleon frowned—not angry, never that—but concerned. He reached out without hesitation, hands settling at your shoulders, grounding and warm even through layers.
"You don't have to endure discomfort to prove anything." he said quietly.
Before you could respond, a gentle heat bloomed around you. Not flame—never overwhelming—just warmth, steady and controlled. His magic wrapped around you like sunlight breaking through clouds, easing the chill from your limbs.
You exhaled before you realized you'd been holding your breath.
"There." he murmured, adjusting the warmth the moment your shoulders relaxed. "Better?"
"Yeah." you admitted, softer now.
He stayed close, one hand still at your back, as if ready to catch you if you swayed. His thumb moved in a small, absent motion—comforting rathe than conscious.
"You push yourself even when it isn't necessary." he said. "Even today."
You gave a small smile. "I was having fun."
His expression softened. "So was I." Then, after a pause, "But my enjoyment ends the moment you're uncomfortable."
The snow around you began to melt slightly, steam curling faintly at your feet. He guided you towards a bench, settling beside you. keeping the warmth steady as you caught your breath.
holiday bells rang faintly somewhere in the distance.
Fuegoleon looked at you then—not as a captain, not as a knight—but as someone deeply attentive. "Next time," he said gently. "We rest sooner."
You leaned into him, warmth layered over warmth. "Next time." you agreed.
He smiled—calm, fond, and unmistakably relieved.
holiday, after all. was meant to be warm.
🔮 WILLIAM VANGEANCE
Snow fell gently, soundless against the earth.
William walked beside you with an unhurried pace, his footsteps so they would not disturb the stillness of the morning. The world felt untouched—branches heavy with white, air crisp and clean.
Without a word, he shifted his cloak, angling it just enough so it shielded you from the wind. The fabric brushed your shoulder lightly, deliberate but unobtrusive.
"It's colder than it looks." he said softly.
You nodded, breath misting in the air. "I don't mind."
He smiled faintly but made no move to pull the cloak back. Instead, he kept his steps aligned with yours, matching your rhythm as if it came naturally.
For a while, you walked in comfortable silence. The only sounds were your breathing and the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots.
Then William spoke again—not to fill the quiet, but to invite it deeper.
"How was this year for you?" he asked gently.
You hesitated then answered. You spoke about small victories, quiet disappointments, moments you hadn't known how to name until now. He listened without interruption, gaze steady, expression open. When you paused, he didn't rush you.
Every so often, he nodded. Once, he adjusted the cloak again when the wind shifted, keeping you warm without breaking his attention.
"You carried a great deal," he said when you finished. "More than you realized."
You glanced at him. "You think so?"
"I'm certain." he said, voice calm but sincere. "And you endured it with grace."
The path curved ahead, leading deeper into the trees. Snow gathered on his hair and shoulders, but he didn't seem to notice. His focus remained entirely on you.
"If there were moments you felt unsure," he continued quietly, "That is not weakness. It simply means you were human."
You exhaled slowly, tension easing from your shoulders.
He slowed, stopping near a tall tree dusted in white. He turned toward you fully now, cloak still drawn close.
"You are allowed to rest." he said. "This morning. This day. This coming year."
The snowfall thickened, soft and steady. He remained there with you, a quiet presence, offering warmth without expectation.
holiday morning passed not with celebration, but with understanding.
characters: yami sukehiro , nozel silva , fuegoleon vermillion , and william vangeance
tags: fluff , multicharacters x gn!reader
a/n: i'm back hihi , this is basically just them cooking for you. the reader is unfortunately not vegan
🔮 YAMI SUKEHIRO
The Black Bulls’ base had fallen unusually quiet for once.
Not completely silent—someone was still moving around upstairs, old floorboards creaking every now and then, and distant laughter occasionally echoed through the halls—but compared to its usual chaos, the atmosphere felt strangely calm. Rain tapped steadily against the windows, soft and rhythmic, while the kitchen glowed with warm amber light from the lantern hanging overhead.
You only wandered in because you smelled food.
Which, honestly, was already strange enough to stop you in your tracks.
The kitchen door slid open quietly beneath your hand, revealing Yami standing in front of the stove with a cigarette resting loosely between his lips while something simmered in a pan. His broad shoulders were slightly hunched forward, one hand buried in his pocket while the other stirred absentmindedly.
For a second, you just stared.
Yami noticed immediately.
“Hah?” he grunted without turning around fully, smoke curling from the corner of his mouth while he continued stirring the pan. “What’re you standing there for?”
It wasn’t even the fact that he was cooking.
It was the fact that Yami was cooking.
The Black Bulls’ kitchen was practically Charmy at this point. Most meals somehow appeared through her cooking, her threats, or pure food-related violence, and everyone else survived off leftovers or whatever they could throw together quickly between missions. Seeing Yami voluntarily standing at the stove felt oddly intimate in a way you couldn’t immediately explain.
And from the look on his face, he clearly realized that too.
“Tch,” he muttered while reaching over to adjust the flame lower, his brows knitting together slightly like your attention itself was irritating him. “Quit staring at me like I grew another head.”
The smell filling the kitchen was warm and rich, something savory mixed with garlic and spices, the kind of scent that settled deep into the room and softened the cold rain outside. Steam curled lazily upward from the pan while another pot simmered nearby, low bubbling sounds mixing with the quiet tapping against the windows.
You moved closer before you could stop yourself.
Yami immediately shifted sideways enough to block your view of the pan with his body.
“Nosy,” he said flatly while flicking ash into a nearby tray, though there wasn’t any real annoyance behind it. He grabbed a wooden spoon afterward and tapped it once against the edge of the pot before adding, “Go sit down or something.”
“You’re cooking?”
The question slipped out before you could think better of it.
Yami’s shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly.
“No,” he answered immediately while throwing chopped vegetables into the pan with enough force for oil to hiss sharply upward. “I’m rebuilding the damn base.”
You snorted softly, and he clicked his tongue at the sound.
The thing about Yami was that he acted rough even during quiet moments. Every movement carried too much weight behind it—cabinet doors shutting harder than necessary, utensils hitting the counter with loud clacks, heavy boots scraping against the floor whenever he moved around the kitchen. But beneath all of that was an ease that only appeared when he was comfortable.
And somehow, tonight, he was.
He cooked without recipes or measurements, barely even looking while adding seasonings by instinct alone. The cigarette remained balanced carelessly between his fingers half the time, and every few minutes he’d lean over the stove just enough for smoke and steam to curl together around him beneath the warm kitchen light.
At one point, he held the spoon toward you without warning.
“Taste.”
The command came gruff and casual while he looked away toward the stove again, pretending not to care about your response. His other hand rested against the counter beside him, fingers tapping once impatiently while he waited.
The broth was good. Really good.
Rich flavor, a little smoky, warm enough to spread through your chest instantly.
You looked up in surprise, and Yami immediately frowned.
“What’s with the look on your face?” he asked while taking the spoon back, dark eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Thought I’d burn the kitchen down?”
“A little.”
“Hah. Smartass.”
But despite the insult, the corner of his mouth twitched slightly upward.
The rain outside only grew heavier as time passed, the sound wrapping around the kitchen in soft static while Yami continued cooking like this was something ordinary. Like it was normal for him to stand there late at night making enough food for two while the rest of the base slept.
And he never once said it was for you.
Not directly.
Even when he pulled out a second bowl.
Even when he made portions without asking if you were staying.
Even when he shoved a chair lightly outward with his foot in silent invitation.
“Sit before I change my mind,” he muttered while ladling food into the bowls, steam immediately rising between both of you. His voice came rougher than usual now, quieter somehow beneath the rain and low firelight. “And don’t complain if it sucks.”
It didn’t suck.
If anything, it made the moment feel strangely dangerous—not because of the food itself, but because of how domestic this was. Yami wasn’t someone who openly showed affection. He wasn’t soft-spoken or careful with emotions. Most of the time, caring from him came through insults, silent gestures, or the simple fact that he stayed.
So this?
This felt important.
He sat across from you afterward with one arm resting over the back of his chair, cigarette smoke drifting lazily upward while he watched you take the first bite. He tried to look uninterested, but his gaze lingered just a second too long before shifting away.
And when you quietly admitted it tasted good, he scoffed immediately.
“Of course it is. I'm the cook.” pride in his voice.
But a few moments later, while pretending to focus on his own bowl, he pushed the better pieces of meat onto your plate anyway.
And honestly, that alone said enough.
Because it was Charmy that handled almost every meal and nobody else bothered entering the kitchen unless they were stealing food, seeing Yami cook at all already felt rare.
Seeing him do it quietly for someone he loved without ever admitting that was what he was doing?
That felt even rarer.
🔮 NOZEL SILVA
Morning inside the Silva estate was usually quiet in an almost intimidating way.
The halls remained polished to perfection, sunlight spilling through towering windows and reflecting against silver detailing along the walls, while servants moved through the estate with practiced silence. Breakfast was normally prepared long before anyone woke, arranged flawlessly across the dining hall by staff who knew exactly how every member of the Silva family preferred their tea, portions, and table settings.
Which was why the emptiness felt strange immediately.
As you stepped into the corridor, you noticed the unusual stillness first. No servants passing through the halls carrying trays. No quiet conversation near the kitchens. No scent of freshly brewed tea drifting through the manor from the dining room as it usually did every morning.
Instead, the warmth and smell of food came directly from the kitchen itself.
Curious, you followed it.
The kitchen doors stood slightly open, soft golden light spilling through the gap while the faint sound of simmering cream sauce and porcelain clinking together echoed quietly from inside. The rich aroma of butter, herbs, fresh baked pastry, and something sweet lingered warmly in the air, so different from the cold elegance the Silva estate usually carried.
And standing at the center of it all was Nozel Silva.
For a moment, you simply stared.
Nozel stood near the marble counter with a navy apron that had been tied carefully over his usual loose fitting shirt with a high collar. The fabric of the apron looked absurdly formal somehow, pristine without a single wrinkle, and paired with his composed expression, he looked less like someone cooking breakfast and more like a nobleman overseeing an extremely important royal event.
The sight alone was enough to nearly make you laugh.
Nozel noticed your presence immediately through the reflection in the polished silver kettle nearby. His shoulders straightened slightly before he turned toward you with the same calm composure he carried during captain meetings, though there was the faintest stiffness beneath it now.
“You are awake earlier than expected,” he said smoothly while setting down the spoon in his hand, his pale eyes lingering on you briefly before returning toward the stove. “Breakfast is nearly finished.”
Not, I made breakfast or
I am cooking for you.
Just that.
Your gaze drifted downward slowly toward the apron.
Silence.
Then back up at him.
He narrowed his eyes almost instantly.
“…Do not.”
That only made it worse.
“The apron?” you asked carefully, already smiling, while stepping farther into the kitchen. Morning light streamed through the tall windows behind him, catching against silver kitchenware and illuminating the faint flush beginning to creep upward beneath his composed expression. “Really?”
“Unlike certain people, I do not intend to appear incompetent while cooking.” Nozel replied immediately, far too quickly for someone supposedly unaffected, while turning back toward the counter to continue arranging plates with excessive precision. “Cooking without proper preparation is inefficient.”
“You look ridiculous.”
“I look appropriate.”
“You’re wearing an apron embroidered with silver trim.” you pointed out while gesturing toward the apron tied around his waist.
“The servants selected it.”
“And yet, you kept it on.”
Nozel went completely silent after that.
Which, honestly, felt more victorious than getting an actual response.
The kitchen itself looked immaculate despite the obvious amount of work already done. Several polished pans rested near the stove alongside neatly arranged ingredients, fresh herbs, and porcelain dishes that probably cost more than most people’s yearly income. Everything sat perfectly organized, every movement Nozel made controlled and deliberate, like even cooking required royal discipline.
And the breakfast itself looked absurdly expensive.
Thin pastries filled with vanilla cream and fresh fruit rested on one platter beside delicate honey-glazed breakfast tarts dusted lightly with powdered sugar. Another plate held soft herb omelets folded around creamy cheese and finely chopped vegetables, paired beside roasted potatoes seasoned with rosemary and butter until golden crisp. Fresh tea steeped nearby in an elegant silver pot while sliced fruit had been arranged so perfectly it looked more decorative than edible.
It looked less like breakfast and more like something prepared for nobility during a royal gathering.
Which, technically, it was.
He noticed you staring at the spread and spoke without looking up from the tea he was pouring.
“A proper breakfast should be balanced,” he stated calmly while setting your cup carefully onto the table, porcelain touching the surface without a sound. “The meals served here recently have lacked variety.”
That was a lie.
The Silvas probably had the finest cooks in the kingdom.
Which only made this more significant.
Because despite having an entire staff capable of preparing anything he desired, He himself had chosen to stand here since early morning making breakfast personally.
For you.
And somehow, that realization settled softly into your chest harder than any verbal confession could have.
You moved toward the counter, eyeing the pastries again before glancing sideways at him. “So you dismissed the servants just to do this yourself?”
Nozel adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves unnecessarily before answering.
“They were unnecessary this morning.”
“Mhm.”
“You are implying something.” his eyes narrowed in the slightest bit.
“You cooked breakfast.”
“I am aware.”
“For me.”
Nozel’s hand paused very slightly against the teapot.
Then he continued pouring as if nothing had happened.
“You were going to eat breakfast regardless,” he said evenly while placing the pot aside with perfect control. “This merely ensured acceptable quality.”
You laughed quietly beneath your breath, and Nozel exhaled through his nose in immediate disapproval despite the faint color rising higher along the tips of his ears.
“Sit down already,” he muttered while pulling out your chair before you could do it yourself. The gesture came naturally, automatically refined, though there was something gentler hidden beneath it now. “The food will become cold.”
You obeyed, still trying not to smile too obviously while he took the seat across from you.
Even sitting at the breakfast table, he looked elegant without effort. One arm rested lightly beside his untouched teacup while morning light illuminated the silver strands of his hair, softening the usual sharpness in his features. And despite pretending calm indifference, his attention remained subtly fixed on you from the moment you picked up your fork.
Waiting.
Watching.
You took a bite of the herb omelet first.
And immediately paused.
The flavor was incredible—light, rich, perfectly balanced with fresh herbs and creamy cheese without being overwhelming.
Slowly, your gaze lifted toward him.
Nozel was already looking at you.
The second your eyes met, he lifted his teacup with complete composure and took a slow sip as though he had not been observing your reaction at all.
“Well?” he asked calmly afterward.
This man couldn't just simply ask if you liked it.
Never that.
Instead, he just chose to say one simple word delivered with royal dignity despite the unmistakable anticipation beneath it.
When you admitted the food was amazing, Nozel looked away almost immediately.
“Hm,” he responded softly, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly while he adjusted the sleeve of his uniform again. “That is expected.”
But a few moments later, when your attention lingered briefly on the empty pastry tray, Nozel simply reached for the silver bell near the table and instructed a servant to bring out “the remaining batch,” despite the fact that he had very obviously baked them himself earlier that morning.
🔮 FUEGOLEON VERMILLION
It started the night before.
Not because anything dramatic happened, but because Fuegoleon noticed things other people usually missed.
You had returned later than usual after a long day, shoulders slightly heavier with exhaustion despite insisting you were fine. Dinner had been brief, conversation quieter, and though you tried hiding how tired you were, Fuegoleon caught the way your attention drifted during conversation and how you nearly forgot to finish your tea entirely.
He said nothing about it at the time.
That was simply how Fuegoleon cared.
Observant.
Steady.
Quietly deliberate.
So the following morning, when sunlight had only just begun filtering through the Vermillion estate, he was already awake.
And already cooking.
By the time you finally entered the kitchen, he was halfway finished preparing breakfast exactly as he intended. Which, honestly, should not have surprised you. Fuegoleon seemed to know your routines almost unnervingly well—the times you usually woke, how long you took getting ready in the mornings, even when you tended to skip breakfast entirely after exhausting days.
Not in a controlling way.
Just attentive.
The kind of attentiveness that came from genuinely paying attention to someone over time.
The warmth hit you first upon entering the kitchen.
Golden morning light streamed through the tall windows while the scent of toasted bread, herbs, tea, and something lightly sweet filled the room. The atmosphere felt calm, alive with gentle crackling sounds from the stove, and near the counter floated Salamander himself, enormous wings tucked comfortably while tiny embers drifted lazily through the air around him like glowing fireflies.
And standing at the center of it all was Fuegoleon, with his usual white tunic beneath the dark blue long-sleeved shirt he often wore casually indoors, the high collar framing his posture neatly while soft firelight reflected against strands of crimson hair. His flaming arm illuminated the kitchen in flickering orange glow as he worked, movements smooth and practiced while adjusting heat beneath one pan with almost effortless precision.
He looked completely natural there.
Like warmth belonged to him.
The second he heard you enter, Fuegoleon glanced over his shoulder with immediate recognition already softening his expression.
“Good morning,” he greeted warmly while turning another slice of bread over the pan, the faint crackle of heat following the motion. “You woke precisely when I expected.”
You blinked.
“…You expected me?”
“Of course.”
The answer came so simply.
He stepped aside slightly afterward, allowing you to finally see the breakfast spread properly arranged across the counter.
And honestly?
It looked excessive in the most thoughtful way possible.
Freshly baked bread still warm from the oven rested beside roasted potatoes seasoned with herbs and garlic. There were grilled tomatoes, sautéed spinach with butter, fresh fruit carefully sliced into neat portions, and tea steeping nearby beside a small pitcher of honey. Another pan held delicate herb-seasoned chicken cooked lightly for breakfast alongside creamy porridge topped with cinnamon and fruit preserves.
Balanced.
Nutritious.
Carefully planned.
Every part of the meal looked intentional, like he considered exactly what your body needed rather than simply what tasted good.
Because he absolutely did.
“You made all this?” you asked while stepping closer to the counter, still trying to process the sight of the Crimson Lion captain calmly making breakfast at sunrise.
He nodded once while setting another plate down neatly.
“You appeared fatigued yesterday,” he explained without hesitation, straightforward as always while Salamander floated lazily behind him. “Proper meals and rest are important for maintaining one’s health.”
There was no embarrassment in his tone.
No attempt to hide affection behind excuses.
Fuegoleon loved honestly.
Openly.
And somehow, that made moments like this feel even more overwhelming.
You were about to sit down when movement near the stove caught your attention.
He had paused beside one of the counters, holding three eggs carefully in his flaming hand.
Not burning them.
Just…holding them there.
You stared.
“…Why are there three?”
Fuegoleon looked down at the eggs thoughtfully before answering with complete seriousness.
“I realized I was uncertain which preparation you preferred.”
He stepped closer afterward and gently placed the eggs onto your plate one by one.
“This one is hard-boiled,” he explained calmly while motioning toward the first. “The second is soft-boiled. And the third—”
“The jammy one?”
“Yes.”
There was the faintest hint of satisfaction in his expression when you identified it correctly.
He pulled out the chair beside yours afterward before continuing, his voice carrying that same composed confidence he used during battle strategy discussions.
“The jammy preparation required the greatest precision,” he admitted while folding his arms loosely across his chest, flames flickering softly along one side of him. “The temperature must remain controlled very carefully. Excess heat hardens the center too quickly.”
You stared at him for a second longer before a laugh finally escaped you.
Not because the situation was ridiculous.
Well—maybe slightly.
But mostly because of how sincere he sounded while discussing boiled eggs with the seriousness of military tactics.
Fuegoleon looked mildly puzzled by your amusement.
“What is humorous?”
“You made three different eggs because you didn’t know which one I liked best.”
“That seemed the most logical solution.”
The answer came immediately.
Completely genuine.
And honestly? That somehow made it worse.
You laughed again, quieter this time, while Fuegoleon simply watched with calm patience, one brow lifting slightly in question. Morning sunlight spilled across the kitchen between you both while Salamander drifted lazily nearby, warming the room further with gentle heat.
Then, after a brief pause, he spoke again.
“You never mentioned a preference.”
There it was.
Simple.
Reasonable.
Entirely fair.
And when you thought about it, he was right.
Knowing someone’s schedule was different from knowing every tiny preference they had. Fuegoleon paid attention constantly, but he was not presumptuous. Rather than assume incorrectly, he chose the option that guaranteed you would have something you enjoyed.
Which, somehow, felt very him.
Careful.
Thoughtful.
Earnest to the point of almost being unfair.
You finally sat down afterward while Fuegoleon poured tea beside you, his flaming arm casting warm light across the breakfast table. And even then, he remained attentive in small ways—adjusting your plate slightly closer, making sure the tea was not too hot before handing it over, watching quietly to ensure you actually ate properly this time.
Not out of obligation.
Not out of duty.
But because loving someone, to Fuegoleon, meant caring for them thoroughly.
🔮 WILLIAM VANGEANCE
The invitation had been given so casually the evening before that you almost failed to realize how intimate it actually was.
“If you are free around noon tomorrow,” William had said softly while finishing paperwork across from you, moonlight shining through the windows of his office at the time. His attention remained lowered toward the documents in front of him, though the faint smile in his voice had been unmistakable. “I would like to prepare something for you.”
Something for you.
Simple words, gently spoken, and somehow they lingered in your mind long after the conversation ended.
So the next day, just before noon, you found yourself walking through the quiet halls of the Golden Dawn headquarters toward the private garden terrace William occasionally used for moments away from his duties. Sunlight filtered warmly through the tall windows along the corridor while distant voices echoed faintly from elsewhere in the building, but the closer you got to the garden, the quieter everything became.
Then the smell reached you.
Fresh herbs.
Warm bread.
Light cream sauce and roasted vegetables.
The scent lingered softly in the air beneath the natural floral sweetness surrounding the garden itself, and by the time you stepped through the open doorway, you immediately realized something important.
He had cooked this himself.
The terrace kitchen stood partially open to the gardens, sunlight pouring through climbing ivy and flowering vines woven naturally around white stone pillars. Soft wind stirred through the space, carrying the scent of greenery and fresh earth while small roots curled harmlessly along the edges of the tiled floor beneath nearby planters.
And there, standing beside the counter arranging plates, was William.
For once, there was no mask covering him.
The curse across his face remained visible beneath the sunlight filtering through the vines overhead, dark markings curling against skin he no longer tried hiding from you. Comfortable. Unguarded. Like this little corner of the garden had become one of the few places where he allowed himself to simply exist without barriers.
And he smelled like he had just finished cooking.
Not perfume.
Not polished royal fragrance.
Warm herbs, bread fresh from the oven, faint traces of butter and tea leaves lingering against his clothes.
Domestic.
The realization settled strangely softly into your chest.
William looked up the moment you entered, visibly brightening almost immediately.
“Ah,” he said warmly while setting down the dish in his hands, relief briefly flickering across his expression. “You arrived right on time.”
His voice carried that same calm gentleness it always did, but now there was something lighter beneath it. Less captain. Less responsibility. Just him.
Your gaze drifted slowly toward the table nearby.
And paused.
The lunch spread looked beautiful without being excessive—light herb-roasted chicken glazed gently with citrus beside fresh garden vegetables, delicate cream soup topped with herbs, warm bread still steaming slightly from the oven, and fruit tarts arranged carefully across a small porcelain plate near the center. Fresh tea had already been prepared beside neatly folded napkins while small flowering vines curled naturally around the table legs as though the garden itself wanted to be involved.
“You made all this?” you asked quietly.
His shoulders lifted slightly in what almost looked like shy acknowledgment.
“I did,” he admitted without hesitation while moving toward the table to pull out your chair for you. “I was unsure what you might prefer, so I prepared several things.”
There was no embarrassment in the confession.
No attempt to minimize it.
Just honesty.
And somehow, that made it feel far more intimate than if he had tried hiding it.
As you stepped closer, William reached past you briefly to adjust one of the dishes—and the warmth lingering from the kitchen still clung faintly to him. The scent of herbs and baked bread became clearer for a second, alongside something distinctly comforting that simply smelled like home.
“You cooked all morning, didn’t you?” you asked softly while taking your seat.
He paused.
Then laughed quietly beneath his breath.
“A little longer than intended,” he admitted while sitting across from you, sunlight filtering through the vines overhead and scattering soft shadows across the table between you both. “I became distracted midway through preparing the soup.”
“You got distracted?”
“One of the vines stole ingredients repeatedly.”
As if summoned by the accusation, a thin green vine slowly retreated behind a nearby planter carrying what looked suspiciously like a strawberry.
You stared.
He looked genuinely apologetic.
“They have become rather attached to sweet things lately.”
That finally made you laugh softly, and the sound seemed to ease something in him instantly.
Because that was the thing about William—he carried tension almost constantly without realizing it. The weight of leadership, guilt, responsibility, expectation. It lingered quietly in his posture even during peaceful moments.
But here, now, sitting across from someone he loved while sunlight warmed the garden around him, he looked lighter somehow.
Softer.
And when you tasted the food, it only made the feeling worse.
Everything was balanced perfectly. Warm without being heavy, delicate but filling, each flavor intentional in a way that felt unmistakably thoughtful. The vegetables tasted incredibly fresh, herbs bright and fragrant, soup smooth and comforting enough to make you pause after the first spoonful.
William noticed immediately.
“You like it?” he asked before he could stop himself.
The question slipped out gently, genuine enough that it caught even him slightly off guard afterward. A faint flush touched his face while he lowered his gaze toward his teacup afterward with quiet embarrassment.
But unlike most people, he didn’t retreat from the vulnerability completely.
Instead, after a brief moment, he smiled softly.
“I am glad,” he said honestly.
No pride.
No deflection.
Just warmth.
The breeze shifted gently through the terrace afterward, stirring leaves overhead while sunlight illuminated the table between you both. Nearby, oversized flowers bloomed slowly along the vines wrapping the garden walls, responding unconsciously to his magic and mood alike.
And for a while, lunch became less about eating and more about staying there together.
Quiet conversation.
Warm tea.
William occasionally brushing stray flour from his sleeve because he somehow still hadn’t noticed it was there.
Small things.
Gentle things.
The kind of moments he treasured most because they asked nothing from him except simply being present.
a/n: fuegoleon's part was inspired in that one episode where sister theresa told him to also do a party trick to entertain the children. he made 3 different types of boiled eggs, which the children called "boring." leaving him stunned lol
a/n: making this while you guys wait for the part 2 of the fuegoleon fic. i haven't wrote it yet since my mood doesn't fit the scene and yes, i'm crazy for that. i'm also not very skilled in writing fluffs so it's either you'll find this cringe or whatever you think.
🍁 YAMI SUKEHIRO
The battlefield was chaos. Screams and the clash of steel filled the air, and the stench of blood was thick around you. But you barely noticed any of it, your focus solely on the enemy before you. A massive, hulking beast of a man wielding a blade twice the size of your own was charging toward you, and you knew this would be a fight to the death.
You squared your shoulders, bracing for the impact, when suddenly the air around you shifted. A familiar pressure washed over you, and you knew exactly who it was without even turning around
“Oi, dumbass!” Yami, the Captain's gruff voice cut through the chaos like a blade. “What do you think you’re doing, going up against that guy alone?”
You barely had time to react before the beast swung its sword with brutal force. Just as you prepared to block, Captain was there, his katana intercepting the blow with a force that sent a shockwave through the ground.
“Captain—” you started, but his sharp glare cut you off.
“Stay back!” he barked, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ve got this.”
But you couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. The Captain is strong, stronger than anyone you knew, but even he had limits. You called on your magic, determined to help, but before you could act, Yami was beside you, grabbing your wrist with a grip that was firm, almost bruising.
“I can handle this.” you said, your voice steady, determined. You weren’t about to stand on the sidelines.
He didn’t look at you, his eyes still locked on the enemy, but his grip on you tightened just a fraction.
“Not this time.” he muttered, his voice low and sharp. “You’re not doing anything reckless. I won’t let you.”
“You mean more to me than you think, Y/N,” he said, his tone almost a growl. “So don’t go doin’ something stupid, got it?“
The words hit you harder than expected. You stood there, completely caught off guard, your thoughts scrambling for a response, but nothing came out. you just stood there, the weight of his words sinking in. Was that… a confession? Did Yami just admit that he cared about you—really cared about you? Your heart started to race, the battlefield around you fading as your thoughts spiraled.
Before you could fully process it, Yami let go of your wrist and turned back to the battle, his katana already sparking with dark energy. "Stay put, and let me handle this!" he ordered, his voice rough and commanding as he charged back at the monster, a whirlwind of raw power and stubborn determination.
You were left standing there, your wrist still tingling where he’d grabbed you, your mind reeling from what just happened. Yami’s words echoed in your head, each beat of your heart pounding louder in your ears.
The realization hit you like a lightning bolt, sending a rush of warmth and adrenaline through your body. Your heart was racing now, not from the danger of the battle, but from the knowledge that Captain—brash, stubborn, and infuriatingly reckless Captain—cared about you in a way you hadn’t dared to hope.
And as you watched him fight, every swing of his katana full of raw power and determination, you couldn’t help but feel the same. Yami meant more to you than you’d realized, and now, standing on the battlefield with the world falling apart around you, it felt like everything had just changed in an instant.
🍁 FUEGOLEON VERMILLION
The sun was setting over the Vermillion estate, bathing the garden in a warm, golden hue. Fuegoleon had invited you, his childhood friend and longtime maid, for a rare moment of relaxation away from the usual hustle of the castle.
As you walked alongside Fuegoleon through the garden’s winding paths, the fragrance of blooming flowers filled the air. He led you to a small table where tea and pastries were laid out, a simple yet elegant setting that was a departure from his typical commanding presence.
You took a seat, admiring the tranquility of the garden. Fuegoleon, usually so composed and stern, looked almost out of place in this serene setting. He poured the tea with a practiced hand, his movements deliberate yet gentle.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve had a moment like this.” you said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Remember when we used to play in this garden as kids?”
Fuegoleon smiled, a rare and genuine expression that softened his usually stern features. “Of course, I remember. You were always trying to catch the butterflies, and I was always trying to keep you from getting tangled in the bushes.”
You laughed softly. “And you always ended up covered in mud while trying to rescue me. We had some pretty wild adventures.”
“It’s funny.” you said, your voice softening as you looked around the garden. “I never thought we’d end up in such different places. You as the captain of the Crimson Lions and me here, still at the estate, but it feels like nothing has changed between us.”
Fuegoleon’s gaze lingered on you, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve missed these moments. It’s rare for me to have a chance to just sit and talk like this, without the weight of responsibilities pressing down.”
There was a pause as he set down his teacup, taking a deep breath as if gathering his thoughts. He looked at you with a mix of nostalgia and something more intense, a vulnerability that you hadn’t seen in him before.
“You know, Y/n,” Fuegoleon began, his voice carrying a sincerity that matched the peaceful setting, “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how our lives have changed, and how much I’ve come to value these rare moments with you.”
He reached out as if to take your hand, his gaze steady and earnest. “I’ve realized that my feelings for you have grown deeper than I ever imagined. I’ve been holding back, but I can’t ignore it any longer.”
Just as he was about to grasp your hand, a lion from the estate’s stables, curious and playful, bounded into the garden. It darted towards you, its exuberance catching you off guard. In a moment of chaotic energy, the lion accidentally collided with you, sending you tumbling into the nearby bushes.
Fuegoleon’s hand was still reaching out to you, and as the lion’s sudden movement pulled you into the bush, it yanked him along too. Both of you fell into the soft, green bushes, landing in a heap.
For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the distant roar of the lion, who seemed more curious than menacing. Then, laughter bubbled up from both of you, the absurdity of the situation breaking the tension.
Fuegoleon looked at you, his face flushed with a mix of laughter and embarrassment. “Well, it looks like some things never change.” he said, grinning as he gently disentangled himself from the bushes.
You smiled, brushing leaves from your hair. “I suppose some traditions are meant to be upheld.”
As you both stood up, dusting yourselves off, the moment of levity brought you even closer.
Fuegoleon’s earlier confession was still hanging in the air, and as you met his gaze again, the sincerity of his words felt even more poignant against the backdrop of shared laughter and familiar comfort.
You took his hand, the connection between you feeling more real and immediate than ever. “I think I’m glad we ended up here, despite the lion.” you said softly. “Your confession means a lot to me.”
Fuegoleon’s expression softened, his eyes reflecting both relief and happiness. “I’m glad to hear that, Y/n.”
With the sun setting behind you and the garden’s tranquility restored, you both settled back onto the grassy area, the earlier conversation picking up where it left off. The bond between you felt renewed, strengthened by both the laughter and the heartfelt confession that had brought you closer together.
🍁 NOZEL SILVA
Nozel and you were set up in an arranged marriage that initially felt loveless and obligatory. The first years were filled with formality and distance, with both of you merely fulfilling your roles. But as time passed, the boundaries of your arranged marriage began to blur. Through countless conversations and shared experiences, you both started to see each other in a new light, growing closer in a way neither of you had anticipated.
One evening, Nozel invited you to a secluded, elevated spot fat from the estate, known for its stunning view of the night sky. The place was a peaceful hill, far from the castle’s lights and noise, where the stars shone brightly, creating a serene and intimate atmosphere.
As you arrived, Nozel had prepared a cozy setup with a blanket and some snacks. The cool night air and the distant sounds of nature added to the calming ambiance. You both settled onto the blanket, the stars providing a beautiful backdrop for your conversation.
The night began with light and casual topics. Nozel, usually so composed, seemed more relaxed than usual. “You know, Y/n,” he began, looking up at the stars, “I used to think I knew everything about the world, but I never really took the time to look up and appreciate the sky like this.”
You smiled, glancing around at the view. “I feel the same way. It’s amazing how different everything looks when you take a moment to really observe it.”
The conversation naturally flowed, touching on favorite hobbies and shared experiences. “So,” you asked with a curious smile, “what’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do but never had the chance to?”
Nozel thought for a moment before answering, “I’ve always wanted to learn more about the stars. They’ve fascinated me since I was a child, but I never had the time to study them properly. It’s funny how we get so caught up in our duties that we forget to enjoy the simple things.”
You nodded in agreement. “I’ve always found stargazing calming. It’s like a reminder of how vast the world is and how small our daily worries can seem.”
As the night wore on, the conversation deepened, touching on more personal reflections. Nozel spoke about his responsibilities and how they had shaped him, while you shared your thoughts on the changes you’d seen in your own life over the years.
Eventually, the conversation took a more introspective turn. Nozel, his gaze still fixed on the stars, seemed to be gathering his thoughts. “Y/n, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say,” he began, his voice carrying a hint of hesitation. “When we first married, it was all about duty and obligation. We barely knew each other, and our relationship felt like just another formality.”
You looked at him, sensing the gravity in his tone. “Yes, I remember. It was a difficult adjustment, and I think we both struggled with it.”
Nozel continued, his voice growing softer. “But over time, as we’ve spent more time together and talked about so many things, I’ve come to see you in a different light. You’re not just a duty to me, you’re someone I genuinely care about and admire.”
He turned to face you, his expression earnest and vulnerable. “Tonight, I want to ask you something important. Will you marry me again, but this time not out of obligation or force, but because we’ve truly come to care for each other? I want our marriage to be based on something real, on mutual affection and understanding.”
His words hung in the air, and you felt a rush of emotions. The sincerity in his voice and the intimate setting made the moment feel profoundly special.
You looked at Nozel, a genuine smile spreading across your face. “I never imagined we’d come to this point, but I’m so glad that we have. I’ve come to care for you deeply as well. I’d be honored to marry you again, not out of duty, but because I want to be with you.”
Nozel’s face lit up with relief and happiness. He reached out, taking your hand gently. As Nozel finished his heartfelt confession, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, elegant box. He opened it to reveal a delicate ring, glistening under the starlight. With a gentle smile, he took your hand and carefully slid the ring onto your finger.
“This is a symbol of my promise,” he said softly, his eyes fixed on yours. “A promise that this time, our marriage will be based on something real, something deep.”
He then raised your hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the ring. The gesture was filled with sincerity and affection, sealing the new chapter of your relationship with a touch of romance and commitment.
As the stars twinkled above, Nozel leaned closer, his gaze locked on yours. Slowly, he cupped your face with both hands, his touch warm and tender. Without breaking eye contact, he gently kissed you. The kiss was soft and filled with the unspoken promises of a future together, sealing the new beginning you had both longed for.
The night was filled with the warmth of your shared connection, and as you pulled away, you both felt an overwhelming sense of peace and joy. The stars above seemed to celebrate your renewed bond, making the moment even more unforgettable.
🍁 JACK
After weeks of a grueling mission in the forest, Jack had found you, injured and frail. Despite his usual indifference, he took you in, treating your wounds and caring for you. Over the past few weeks, you had traveled together, with Jack handling the heavy lifting while you rested and recovered.
One night, under the canopy of the forest, Jack set up a small campfire and began cooking a meal with the skill of someone who’s surprisingly adept in the kitchen. The warmth of the fire contrasted with the cool night air, creating a cozy environment. You sat nearby, wrapped in a blanket, watching Jack with a mix of gratitude and curiosity.
As Jack cooked, he tossed ingredients into the pot with practiced ease. “You know,” he said, his tone gruff but with a hint of satisfaction, “I’ve had to learn a thing or two about cooking. Can’t rely on others to feed me all the time.”
You smiled, taking in the delicious aroma. “I’m impressed. I didn’t expect you to be so good at it.”
Jack smirked as he stirred the pot. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. I only cook when I have to. And right now, I’d rather not eat whatever’s in those trail rations again.”
As the two of you shared the meal, the conversation flowed naturally. You talked about the oddities of the forest, the challenges of the mission, and your own experiences.
At one point, you asked, “So, Jack, what’s the most memorable mission you’ve had?”
Jack’s eyes lit up with a hint of mischief. “Most memorable? Well, there was this one time I had to track a rogue mage through a storm. Not only did I have to fight off a bunch of monsters, but I also had to navigate through a blizzard. Made for one hell of a story.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Sounds intense. I’m glad you made it through.”
Jack shrugged. “Eh, it’s all part of the job. But enough about me. What about you? Ever done anything wild?”
Before you could answer, a bear emerged from the shadows, attacking without warning. Jack’s instincts kicked in immediately. He pushed you aside to protect you, engaging the bear in a fierce struggle. Despite his best efforts, the bear’s claws left deep scratches on Jack.
Once the bear was defeated, you rushed to Jack's side, leading him back to the cave you had been using as temporary shelter. As you tended to his wounds, Jack watched you with a mix of pain and something softer, though he tried to keep his usual gruff demeanor.
“You don’t have to go all out for me, you know,” Jack said, wincing slightly. “I’m used to roughing it.”
You looked up from his wounds, shaking your head. “It’s not about having to. It’s about wanting to. You’ve been looking out for me this whole time.”
Jack shifted uncomfortably, his voice dropping to a softer, almost embarrassed tone. “Yeah, well… It’s not like I’ve been doing it because I’m all noble or anything. I just—”
He hesitated, his usual bravado faltering. “I guess… I guess I’ve kind of grown used to having you around. And, uh, it’s not just because you needed help. I care about you, Y/n. More than I thought I could care about anyone.”
He looked away, trying to mask his embarrassment. “So, yeah. Don’t think I’m some weak shit or anything. I just wanted to say that… if you’re up for it, I’d like to keep you around. Not just for missions or whatever, but because I actually like having you by my side.”
You were taken aback by his confession, a smile spreading across your face as you looked at him. “Jack, I didn’t think you were the type to—”
“Hey! don’t make a big deal out of it,” Jack interrupted, though his voice was gentle. “Just… let’s stick together, alright?”
Before you could respond, Jack pulled you into a hug, his rough exterior softened by the warmth of the moment. You felt his heartbeat steady against yours, and as the night grew quieter around you, the bond between you felt deeper and more genuine.
characters: yami sukehiro, fuegoleon vermillion, nozel silva, & william vangeance
tags: fluff , multi characters x fem reader
a/n: i made this one based on that brigade question like what's their type? yami = someone strong | fuegoleon = someone passionate | nozel = someone who can give their all to the house silva | william = someone who doesn't bother the face of his. I don't know if all of these will be accurate but i tried my best !
💜 YAMI SUKEHIRO
It was another usual day at the Black Bulls' hideout, and as always, chaos was in full swing. Noelle and Asta were at it again, Magna and Luck were bickering over something that probably didn’t matter, and Vanessa was drinking alcohol like nothing was going on. Yami, however, was focused on you.
You were sparring with Gauche, and as usual, you were kicking ass. The way you fought, with that quiet intensity and controlled power, made him pause for a moment. You weren’t just strong, Yami had seen strength before, plenty of times, but with you, it wasn’t just about raw power. It was about the precision, the strategy, the way you carried yourself. You weren’t one to back down or second-guess yourself, and that was something he couldn’t help but admire.
When the spar ended, you wiped your brow, catching Yami’s eye from across the room. He had been watching you, and you knew it. But instead of looking away, you held his gaze, that confident, knowing smile spreading across your face.
Yami sighed and leaned back in his chair, trying to hide the sudden unease creeping in. "Oi." he called out, voice gruff. "Don’t go making those damn faces at me. It’s distracting."
You tilted your head slightly, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Why? Is it too gorgeous?” you teased, clearly enjoying the effect you were having on him.
Yami scoffed, looking away quickly. “Tch. Just keep your face to yourself, alright?” he muttered, but even as the words left his mouth, he felt that tightness in his chest. That smile, that confidence, it wasn’t just the strength that had caught his attention anymore. It was everything about you.
You weren’t just a powerful member of his squad. You were something more. And that realization... hit him harder than he’d expected.
💜 FUEGOLEON VERMILLION
The Vermillion estate library was calm, its shelves lined with ancient tomes and the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the tall windows. You sat across from Leopold, a quill in hand as you carefully sketched a diagram to explain the finer points of mana stabilization. Leopold leaned forward, his expression intense as he tried to follow along.
“Focus here.” you said gently, pointing to a rune in the diagram. “This is where the mana flow converges. If you don’t stabilize it, the spell will collapse before it can take form.”
Leopold groaned, rubbing the back of his head. “You make it sound so easy, y/n. How do you even keep all this in your head?”
“It’s not about memorizing.” you said with a small smile. “It’s about understanding. Think of it like a puzzle, every piece has its place. You just have to figure out how they connect.”
Fuegoleon stood silently by the doorway, his arms crossed as he observed the two of you. He had only meant to check on Leopold’s progress, but once again, he found himself captivated by the way you carried yourself.
You weren’t just teaching Leopold spell theory, you were patient, encouraging, and passionate. It was clear in every word you spoke, every gesture you made. You cared deeply, not just about the results but about the process.
Leopold grinned as he tried again, his flames flickering to life. This time, the spell formed steadily, its edges sharp and controlled. “I did it!” he exclaimed, turning to you with wide eyes. “It actually worked!”
You beamed at him, clapping your hands lightly. “I knew you could do it! All it takes is focus and practice.”
Fuegoleon’s chest tightened. That smile of yours, so full of pride and warmth, it struck something deep within him. For a man who valued control and discipline, the intensity of his feelings for you caught him off guard. It was as if you had quietly set his heart ablaze, and he hadn’t noticed until the fire had consumed him completely.
When Leopold excused himself to test the spell further in the training grounds, you began tidying up the books and parchment scattered across the table. Fuegoleon stepped forward, clearing his throat softly.
“You’ve done excellent work with Leopold.” he said, his voice even yet warm.
You glanced up, startled by his presence, but your lips curved into a smile. “He’s a fast learner. He just needed a little guidance.”
Fuegoleon’s gaze lingered on you longer than he intended. “Your guidance is exceptional.” he said, stepping closer. “You have a gift for teaching, not just in what you know, but in how you inspire others. It is... rare.”
The sincerity in his tone made you pause, your hands stilling over the stack of papers. “That’s high praise coming from you, Captain.” you replied softly, a faint blush warming your cheeks.
He gave a small nod, his composure intact, though his thoughts were anything but. You aren't just intelligent or skilled, you're someone who lived with purpose, someone who gave everything their all. It was that fire in you, that unwavering passion, that he found himself drawn to in ways he hadn’t expected.
Fuegoleon had always believed in discipline, control, and focus. But now, standing here with you, he realized that no amount of discipline could quell the warmth growing in his chest. He admired you deeply, respected you completely, and, most surprising of all, cared for you in a way he hadn’t thought himself capable of.
When you gathered the last of the papers and stood, he stepped aside, his usual composure returning. “I’ll be outside.” he said, his tone steady despite the chaos in his chest. “Leopold will benefit from your guidance, as he always does.”
You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Of course, Captain.”
As you walked past him, the faint scent of parchment and the subtle warmth of your magic lingering in the air, Fuegoleon couldn’t help but watch you go. He stood there for a moment, silent, letting the weight of his realization settle over him.
You aren't just someone he admired. You’re someone who had ignited something within him, something that burned brighter and fiercer than any flame he had ever conjured.
And for the first time, Fuegoleon allowed himself to hold on to that fire, even if only quietly.
💜 NOZEL SILVA
The halls of the Silva estate were peaceful, the soft sound of Nozel's footsteps echoing through the corridors as he walked quietly down to Noelle’s room. Nozel had been making his rounds, checking on his family’s well-being, when he heard something that made him pause, a small, melodic sound.
Laughter.
He didn’t often hear laughter within these stone walls, and the sound piqued his interest. Moving towards Noelle’s door, he listened for a moment, curious.
He quietly cracked the door open just enough to peek inside, and there he saw you, kneeling beside Noelle’s bed, reading her a story. Noelle, still a little child, looked up at you with wide eyes, her silver hair slightly disheveled as she grinned at something you’d said. You spoke with such a natural warmth, your voice soft and soothing as you held her attention.
“...And the knight swore to protect the kingdom, no matter the cost.” you said, your voice gentle, your words full of encouragement.
Noelle giggled softly. “You’re like that knight, y/n. Strong and brave!”
You smiled, your heart clearly fond of her. “Well, I’m glad you think so, Noelle. One day, you'll be like that knight too.”
The tenderness in your voice, the patience you showed as you tucked Noelle into bed and kissed her forehead, made Nozel pause. You were kind, more than just a caretaker, more than just someone who worked for House Silva. There was a quiet strength about you, a warmth that Noelle clearly felt.
You tucked the blanket around Noelle gently, whispering, “Sleep well, Noelle. I’ll see you in the morning.”
With that, you stood up and moved toward the door, careful not to disturb the little one’s slumber. Nozel, standing just outside, watched you as you quietly stepped away from the room, making sure everything was in order before leaving.
As you opened the door, you bumped into someone. You blinked in surprise, your eyes softening when you recognized him.
“Captain Silva.” you said with a warm smile, your voice calm. “I didn’t realize you were up this late.”
Nozel straightened slightly, his expression as composed as ever. “I came to check on Noelle.” he said, his tone even. “She seems... content.”
You nodded. “She’s been through a lot. I just wanted to make sure she had a peaceful night.”
Nozel’s eyes softened as he took a moment to truly observe you. You caught Nozel's attention, it was the way you carried yourself with such quiet dignity, the way you cared for Noelle with such genuine affection.
“Thank you.” he said, his voice more sincere than usual. “For everything you do for her. It’s... not easy to care for someone with such a spirited nature.”
You chuckled softly. “Noelle is strong. She just needs a little guidance and reassurance.”
Nozel nodded, his eyes lingering on you as he considered your words. You weren’t just fulfilling your duties, you were giving Noelle something she needed desperately, your unwavering support and care.
You gave him a polite smile before continuing on your way, your footsteps light as you disappeared down the hall. Nozel watched you for a moment, his mind wandering.
For all his discipline and control, he couldn’t ignore the way his heart felt a little lighter whenever he saw you. You had captured his attention not by your status or strength, but by the quiet, steadfast way you showed care for others, something he realized he respected deeply.
He stood in the hall for a long moment, his thoughts on you, before turning back to his duties. It was clear now that you were someone he couldn’t easily forget.
💜 WILLIAM VANGEANCE
The Golden Dawn headquarters was eerily quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. Everyone had been sent out on missions, leaving the grand halls empty—except for one person.
William Vangeance sat alone in the library, surrounded by shelves of books and the faint scent of parchment. He exhaled, leaning back in his chair as he finally removed his mask, placing it carefully on the table. The air was warm, and without the suffocating weight of the mask, he could finally breathe freely.
He ran a hand over his face, fingers brushing the scars he rarely allowed anyone to see. This was a rare moment of solitude, one he thought would go uninterrupted.
But then, the door creaked open.
William turned sharply, his heart skipping a beat as his gaze landed on you.
You froze, standing in the doorway with a book in hand, your wide eyes meeting his.
“y/n.” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Captain Vangeance?” you said, softly.
For a moment, neither of you moved. The warm hues of the setting sun streamed through the tall windows, casting a golden light on the two of you. William’s first instinct was to reach for his mask, but something about the way you were looking at him made him pause.
You didn’t flinch. Your expression didn’t shift into discomfort or pity. Instead, you stepped forward, setting your book down on the table.
“I’m sorry.” you said gently. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I thought everyone was out on missions.”
William’s throat tightened. “I… thought so too.”
You offered him a small smile, your gaze unwavering as you sat down across from him. “I came back early.” you explained, your tone casual, as if this moment wasn’t extraordinary. “I thought I’d relax here for a while. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”
He nodded, still unsure of what to say. His scarred face felt exposed, vulnerable, but you hadn’t reacted the way he had feared.
After a moment, you spoke again, your voice steady. “You know, this light suits you.”
William blinked, startled. “What?”
“The sunlight.” you said, gesturing to the way it caught the angles of his face. “It makes you look... peaceful.”
A lump formed in William’s throat as he studied you. There was no hesitation in your expression, no trace of the judgment he had grown accustomed to fearing. Instead, there was warmth, genuine and unyielding, in your gaze.
“You’re not bothered?” he asked quietly, his fingers brushing the edges of his mask.
“Why would I be?” you replied simply. “It’s just you, Captain Vangeance.”
It was such a simple statement, yet it held a weight that made William’s chest tighten. For so long, he had hidden behind the mask, letting others see only the perfect leader of the Golden Dawn. But here you were, looking at him as though the scars didn’t matter, as though he was just another person to you.
And in that moment, something shifted within him.
For someone who had always carried the burden of his dual existence, this newfound warmth and acceptance caught him off guard. He realized then how deeply your presence had come to mean to him. You aren't just another squad member. You're someone who saw beyond his scars, someone who didn’t let the world’s expectations dictate your view of him.
The setting sun bathed the room in golden light as you stood to return to the shelves, leaving William sitting in silence, his thoughts spiraling.
For the first time in a long while, his heart felt full—not with duty or burden, but with something far more profound.
characters: asta , yuno grinberryall , luck voltia , and leopold vermillion
tags: fluff , multi characters x fem reader
a/n: new batch of characters ! i'm also working on a lot of characters from black clover so stay tuned ! I WROTE THIS AT DEC 7, 2024, I JUST NOW REALIZED I POSTED THIS ON PRIVATE
🔮 ASTA
The training grounds were quiet, the sun dipping below the horizon and casting warm shadows over the grass. Asta sat on the ground, utterly spent, his breath coming in short bursts. You knelt beside him, focusing your magic as your palm glowed faintly, weaving warm energy over the bruises and cuts on his arms.
"You’re seriously amazing, Y/N." Asta said, grinning despite his exhaustion. "I don’t think I’ve ever trained this hard with anyone else. You push me to be better every single time!"
You chuckled softly, shaking your head as the golden light of your spell reflected in his wide, enthusiastic eyes. "That’s because you don’t know how to stop. You’re like a tornado, unstoppable and reckless."
"Hey, that’s a compliment, right?" he teased, leaning back on his hands as your magic faded, the ache in his muscles replaced by a soothing warmth.
"It’s a compliment." you replied, sitting back and giving him a small smile. "You’ve got a strong heart, Asta. That’s what makes you special."
He laughed, scratching the back of his head in that boyish way that never failed to make you smile. "You’re way too nice to me. I wouldn’t get anywhere without you keeping me in check."
You shook your head, unable to hide your fondness. "You’d find your way, Asta. You always do."
For a moment, Asta didn’t respond. You noticed the way his expression softened as he watched you, his usual energy settling into something quieter.
He’d always admired you for your strength and how grounded you seemed, but as he sat there, it hit him differently. The way you smiled at him, the way you stayed by his side, it felt like home. Safe.
"You’re such a great friend." he said finally, his voice uncharacteristically tender. "I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you."
You blinked, caught off guard by his earnest tone, but you smiled anyway. "You’re important to me too, Asta."
The two of you sat quietly, the peaceful silence only interrupted by the rustling of the wind. You looked at him, wondering what had him so thoughtful, but you didn’t press. Moments like this weren’t unusual with Asta, he often said what was on his mind when he was ready.
But in Asta’s mind, the peaceful silence wasn’t peaceful at all. It was chaos.
His heart thudding in his chest. He’d always seen you as a friend, someone to spar with and rely on. But lately, there was something more. He trained harder when you were watching. He couldn’t stop smiling when you laughed. And when you healed him, the warmth from your magic lingered longer than it should.
The realization hit him like one of your punches during sparring, and Asta froze. His face felt hot, and he scrambled to his feet, his energy suddenly bursting back to life.
"You okay?" you asked, standing as well and tilting your head in concern.
"Yeah!" he blurted, scratching the back of his head and trying to shake off the flustered feeling. "I, uh, just realized how lucky I am to have you around. Thanks, Y/N."
You furrowed your brows slightly, suspicious of his strange behavior. Still, his smile was contagious, and you couldn’t help but return it. "You’re acting weird, but you’re welcome, I guess."
As you both began walking back to the base, Asta kept sneaking glances at you. From your perspective, he seemed unusually quiet, though the nervous energy radiating off him was hard to miss.
From Asta’s perspective, though, his heart was racing. He couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to realize what he felt for you wasn’t just admiration or friendship, it was something much bigger.
🔮 YUNO GRINBERRYALL
The Golden Dawn common room was empty except for you and Yuno. Most of the squad had already retired to their quarters, but you both stayed behind, too wired from the day’s mission to sleep just yet. The faint crackle of the fireplace filled the room as you sprawled on the couch, stretching your legs while Yuno sat nearby, flipping through a book.
"How are you not tired after all that?" you asked, eyeing him skeptically. "We fought like a hundred bandits. Okay, maybe not a hundred, but close enough."
Yuno didn’t look up. "I’m used to it."
You rolled your eyes. "Of course you are. Mr. Perfect doesn’t get tired, right?"
That made him pause. He glanced at you, one eyebrow raised. "You’re the one still sitting here complaining instead of going to bed. Who’s really the stubborn one?"
You snorted. Grabbing a pillow, you tossed it lazily in his direction, missing him on purpose. "But for real, do you ever just… relax? Or is this the Yuno Experience 24/7?"
Yuno sighed, closing his book with an audible thud. "What does that even mean?"
"It means you’re always so serious." you replied, sitting up and resting your chin on your knees. "Don’t you ever just, I don’t know, goof around?"
He tilted his head slightly, as if the concept of goofing around was something entirely foreign to him. "Not really."
"Of course not." you muttered, shaking your head but smiling anyway.
Yuno leaned back in his chair, watching you for a moment. "You’re the weird one. You don’t take anything seriously, but you’re still good at what you do."
You pretended to be offended, clutching your chest dramatically. "Wow! Yuno actually said something almost nice about me. I need to write this down."
He rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Don’t let it go to your head."
Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The firelight cast a warm glow over the room, and you let yourself relax again, resting against the arm of the couch.
From Yuno’s perspective, this was… different. Most people treated him like he was untouchable, like the Golden Dawn’s rising star. But you? You teased him, joked with him, made him feel like just another kid figuring things out.
"You’re easy to talk to." he said suddenly, his voice quieter than before.
You blinked, caught off guard. "Uh… thanks?"
"I mean it." he added, his expression serious despite the faint flush on his cheeks. "It’s not like this with everyone."
Your teasing smile softened at that. "Well, that’s what friends are for, right?"
Yuno nodded but didn’t reply. The word "friend" stuck in his mind, but it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t enough to describe how he felt about you, the way he sought you out after every mission, the way your laughter made him feel lighter, the way you didn’t expect anything from him but still made him want to give you everything.
The realization hit him like a burst of wind magic.
Oh.
He liked you.
Yuno sat up straighter, suddenly hyper-aware of your presence. His heart raced, and he could feel his face getting warmer. He turned his head away slightly, hoping you wouldn’t notice.
"You okay?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah." he said quickly, a little too quickly.
"You’re acting weird." you said, narrowing your eyes at him.
"I’m not." he insisted, crossing his arms and looking at the fire instead of you.
You didn’t push it, but you couldn’t help the amused grin that spread across your face. "Whatever you say.”
As you leaned back again, letting the quiet return, Yuno stole a glance at you. The way the firelight danced in your eyes, the way you looked so at ease, it made his chest tighten.
He’d figure out how to deal with these feelings eventually. But for now, he was content to sit beside you, basking in the rare sense of comfort you always seemed to bring.
🔮 LUCK VOLTIA
The Black Bulls’ training grounds were lit by the faint glow of fireflies as the night crept in. You stood on one side of the field, catching your breath after what felt like the hundredth round with Luck. He was grinning ear to ear, sparks of lightning magic still crackling around him as he crouched into another stance.
"Come on, Y/N!" he called, his voice brimming with energy. "One more round! You’re not tired yet, right?"
You wiped the sweat off your brow, steadying your breathing. "You’re impossible, Luck. Do you even know what the word 'rest' means?"
He laughed, the sound pure and unrestrained. "Rest is boring! Besides, you’re just as strong as me. You can handle it, right?"
You shook your head with a small smile. Luck’s boundless energy was both exhausting and infectious. “Alright, one more. But if I win, you’re taking the night watch for me tomorrow.”
"Deal!" he said without hesitation, electricity crackling as he charged toward you.
The fight was a blur of movement and magic, both of you pushing each other to the limit. Every strike he threw, you matched with calculated precision. Where he was wild and unpredictable, you were calm and steady, countering his chaotic style with practiced skill.
By the time the match ended, both of you were sprawled out on the ground, panting and staring up at the starry sky.
"You’re amazing, Y/N!" Luck said, his voice breathless but still filled with excitement. "No one else can keep up with me like that!"
You turned your head to look at him, your shy smile tugging at your lips. "You’re amazing too, Luck. I’ve never met anyone with your kind of energy."
He propped himself up on his elbows, his wide grin softening slightly. "You’re not just strong, you’re fun. I like fighting with you. It’s like you really get me, y’know?"
You blinked at him, surprised by the sudden sincerity in his tone. "Thanks, I guess? Though, I don’t think most people would call this fun."
Luck laughed again, flopping back onto the grass. "That’s because most people are boring. But you’re not. You’re... different."
For Luck, the realization came like a bolt of lightning, sudden, sharp, and impossible to ignore. He’d always known he enjoyed being around you, but this was more than that. It wasn’t just the thrill of fighting or the fact that you were strong. It was how you never treated him like a nuisance, how your quiet confidence balanced his chaos, how you could handle his wild energy without flinching.
He liked you.
Luck turned his head to look at you again, his grin softening into something more genuine. "Hey, Y/N?"
"Yeah?" you replied, sitting up to meet his gaze.
"Let’s spar again tomorrow. And the day after that. And every day after that," he said, his voice quieter but no less sincere.
You raised an eyebrow. "You really don’t get tired, do you?"
"Not when it’s with you," he admitted with a laugh.
Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you looked away, suddenly shy under his bright gaze. "You’re weird.” You let out a soft chuckle.
He didn’t deny it, his grin growing wider as he sat up beside you. "Maybe. But you like weird, don’t you?"
You rolled your eyes, though your smile gave you away. "I guess I do."
Luck let out a triumphant laugh, already bouncing to his feet. "Good! Because I’m never letting you get bored!"
As he offered you his hand, you couldn’t help but laugh too. His energy was infectious, he felt ready for another round, just as long as it was with you.
🔮 LEOPOLD VERMILLION
The streets of the capital buzzed with life, but your attention was on Leopold as he animatedly recounted his latest mission.
"And then BOOM! The whole thing exploded! I mean, the mission was a success, but let’s just say the cleanup wasn’t exactly fun."
You laughed, shaking your head. "Typical Leopold. Leave it to you to turn a simple mission into fireworks."
"Hey, it’s not my fault everything’s flammable." he replied, grinning. "What about you? Anything exciting happen in your squad?"
"Nothing as explosive as your adventures, that’s for sure." you said, chuckling.
As you walked, a familiar sight caught Leopold’s eye—a small playground tucked between two buildings, complete with swings, a jungle gym, and a tall slide. His grin widened.
"Y/N." he said, pointing. "Look at that. You thinking what I’m thinking?"
You followed his gaze and raised an eyebrow. "If you’re thinking about reliving your childhood, I’m not stopping you."
"Perfect! Let’s go!" he said, grabbing your hand and dragging you toward the playground.
Before you knew it, the two of you were on the swings, laughing like kids as you raced to see who could go higher. Leopold was, of course, being dramatic.
Eventually, you hopped off your swing, brushing your hair out of your face. "Alright, I’m declaring myself the winner. Let’s move on."
"Winner?" Leopold scoffed, jumping off his swing with way too much flair. "The swing champion title is mine, but I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself. Race you to the slide!"
Before you could even respond, Leopold took off toward the slide, laughing wildly. "Hey, no fair!" you shouted, sprinting after him.
The two of you barreled across the playground, dodging around kids and climbing equipment. Just as you reached the base of the slide, something completely predictable happened, you both tripped over each other.
Leopold yelped, landing in a heap on the ground. You weren’t any better, sprawled out beside him in the dirt.
For a moment, there was silence, and then Leopold burst out laughing. "Okay, maybe we’re not as graceful as we thought."
You groaned, brushing dirt off your clothes. "Speak for yourself, Mr. ‘I’m a Lion, Hear Me Roar.’"
Leopold sat up, still laughing, his eyes bright as he looked at you. The way you were smiling, your laughter shy but genuine, made something click in his chest.
The realization hitting him like a fire spell.
You noticed him staring and tilted your head. "What? Got dirt on my face?"
Leopold blinked, snapping out of it. "Nope! Just thinking about how lucky I am to have a friend who’s as cool as me."
You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. "Right, because you’re so cool."
"Don’t forget it!" he declared, jumping to his feet and offering you a hand.
As you both stood up, Leopold couldn’t stop the warmth spreading through his chest. He didn’t know when it had started, but he was sure of it now, he liked you. Not just as a friend, but as someone he wanted to keep laughing with, tripping over slides with, and having fun with forever.
