#I would have named it Dandelion Fluff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prythianpages · 4 months

Text

Dandelions | Azriel x Witch Reader

summary: it's your baby girl's first day of school and Azriel isn't ready to let her go.

warnings: fluff/angst; some suggestiveness at the end (bonus scene)

a/n: This is part of my ABBA x ACOTAR series (masterlist) where I dedicate a song to a character (: but also my Azriel x witch reader series. I really adore this song and this was the only series I could apply it to. This can pretty much be read as a stand alone imagine. All you have to know is that reader is a witch and is an established relationship with Az.

In the quiet hush of morning, Azriel and Melaina find themselves at the breakfast table with sleep in their eyes. The floor is cloaked in their shadows, joining one another at their feet in a vast sea of darkness.

Yet, the dance of their shadows harbor distinct meanings.

Though he tries to hide it, your keen eyes pick up on the subtle poignant unease in Azriel's demeanor. An undercurrent of melancholy taints the air, prompting you to send a reassuring tug through your bond. Azriel returns the gesture, his hand finding yours across the table. Meanwhile, Melaina quietly finishes her breakfast. Her shadows, a whirlwind of nerves and excitement, betray her impassive appearance. Today is her first day of school, the precipice of a new chapter in her life, and Azriel can't help but grapple with the realization that his little girl is growing up far too quickly.

“All done, my pretty?” You ask softly, gaze alight with admiration as her small wings flutter behind her.

She’s the mirror image of her father with her captivating hazel eyes–a perfect blend of greens and browns that remind you of the nature you’re so fond of. Two braids cascade down her shoulders and delicate bangs accentuate her sun-kissed complexion. When she was born, you had joked that you had given birth to Azriel’s carbon copy and little did you know that even her personality would match his.

Melaina nods and you rise, taking her plate to the kitchen sink. The corner of your lips lift up into a smile when you hear Azriel ask, “Are you sure you want to go to school? You can always start next year.”

“Mel is more than ready for school,” you lightly chide Azriel, who chooses to ignore your words of consolation.

His gaze is fixed on Melaina, a plethora of scenarios plaguing his mind. He wishes he could see what’s really on her mind–to be able to foresee any worries she may have and ease her through them. The same way he’s eased her through every milestone of her life thus far. He was there when she took her first steps, when she first got hurt from tripping over a rug that he immediately disposed of after, when she said her first word–which much to your dismay was your cat’s name, Binx.

But now, she was ready for school. Her first time being away from home without you or him or his brothers by her side. Her first time being on her own. What if the kids in her class don’t take well to her? To her shadows? He remembers the apprehensive looks he’d receive in Windhaven when growing up and the thought of anyone doing the same to her pains him. What if they are mean to her? What if they hurt her?

The obsidian tendrils at Azriel's side stir with an eerie melody, commanding Melaina's shadows to rise. They snap to attention like disciplined soldiers heeding orders. An unspoken promise unfolds—her shadows would help guide her and protect her from any lingering stare or slightest suspicion of malintent. They return to her side as she rises to her feet, tickling her sides and causing her to giggle.

Azriel smiles and shares her laughter, capturing every minute of it, the feeling in it.

There’s that odd melancholy feeling again as he stands in front of the school with Melaina on one side and you on the other. He can’t help the frown that settles over his face when she wiggles her tiny hand out of his grasp to run to her cousins. You’re following after her, tugging Azriel along with you to join his brothers and their mates at the front of the school.

“Good morning, Azriel jr,” Cassian greets her with a smile, playfully tugging at one of her braids. “Are you ready for your first day?”

Melaina lets out a huff. “Of course I am, Uncle Cas.”

Cassian then looks toward Azriel, who continues to brood, and chuckles. “It doesn’t look like your daddy is.”

Azriel glares at Cassian. You leave his side to hug Feyre and the frown leaves his face at the delighted squeal that comes from you, his shadows singing in response. He turns his head to see you and Feyre exchange smiles while you gush in excitement over her growing belly. Though Feyre looks at Azriel with a knowing smile, her words are directed to you.

“Rhys was the same way with Nyx,” she muses and out of the corner of his eye, Azriel catches his brother rolling his eyes. But he doesn’t deny it.

“So was Nesta,” Cassian adds, propping an elbow on Nesta’s shoulders. She shoves him off with a shrug before chiding after their twin boys, Cardan and Calian. The aftermath of the aphrodisiac you made–or rather, remade–for her after Azriel accidentally drank the first batch.

“I’m surprised you’re faring well with this,” Feyre says with a raised brow at you.

“Well, someone has to be the strong one,” you tease, side glancing at Azriel and squeezing his hand.

Azriel lets out a small huff, similar to the one Melaina let out earlier. He knew you were also stressed and a little sad but you were surprisingly able to hide it better than him. But unbeknownst to him, just in case the obsidian necklace she wore was not enough, you had casted a protection spell over Melaina before she went to bed…and packed her bags with a variety of charged crystals.

The gathering of students at the school's entrance slowly disperses, and Azriel tenses beside you, acknowledging the imminent moment of having to say goodbye. Nyx, ever courteous, takes it upon himself to accompany Melaina to class. Azriel suspects Feyre's influence in Nyx's gesture, as if she intuited the added difficulty for him and you. He watches as Melaina walks back to you and you lean down, gently smoothing her bangs before placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Today will be a wonderful day for you,” you affirm for her with a radiant smile, making Azriel's heart melt at the sight of the two girls he loves the most. He wishes that he could freeze the picture and save it from the funny tricks of time.

Your hand delicately reaches for the obsidian crystal suspended from her neck, lifting it tenderly to your lips. There’s a flash of green light that engulfs the crystal and as you release the necklace, Azriel notices the new sparkle to it. “Love you, my pretty.”

Though Melaina doesn’t verbalize it back, her eyes radiate a golden glow and the soft caress of her shadows against your face feels like a tender whisper that articulates, "I love you too.” You pull her in close, hugging her smaller frame and lean down to whisper. But Azriel’s attentive senses still catch it.

“Now hug and give your daddy a kiss so he doesn’t cry.”

Azriel resists the urge to roll his eyes. Feeling a tug on his sweater, he leans down to meet his daughter at eye level. Opening his arms expectantly, a surge of warmth envelops him as she eagerly rushes into his embrace. A tender kiss graces his cheek, accompanied by the familiar caress of her shadows against his other cheek similar to the way they had done with you. He pulls away to look at her, holding her gently by the shoulders. He knows her shadows will do well to protect her and if those aren’t enough, her older cousins are just a couple of classrooms down the hall. But he needs to hear her say it.

“What will you do if someone is mean to you?”

Melaina’s eyes light up and she steps out from his hold. True to the goddess you named her after, she's a tiny vision of nightmares and madness, as she assumes a defensive position, her shadows dancing around her.

“Kick them in the face!” She exclaims as she raises her leg up with a glare directed toward her nonexistent enemy. “I'll make my enemies bleed.”

Cardan and Calian follow after her while Nyx wisely keeps a safe distance, amused by the spectacle of his younger cousins engaging in an imaginary brawl. Cassian watches them fondly, striking punches of his own into the air but you’re shaking your head with furrowed brows. Azriel catches the pointed look you send his way and a subtle blush overtakes his cheeks as you’ve discovered his secret. He continues to read Melaina, those books you told him not to.

“No, Mel, that’s not–”

“That’s my girl,” Azriel grins as he rises to his feet, feeling slightly better. He rustles her bangs fondly.

The sound of the school bell echoes through the park as a final warning that class should be beginning shortly. Azriel reluctantly shrugs Melaina’s backpack off his shoulder, the small bag looking ridiculous on someone of his stature. He adjusts it on her with careful consideration for her delicate wings and feels an ache in his chest as the backpack nearly engulfs her smaller frame.

As the faint rustling, reminiscent of rocks shifting, comes from the bag, it is Azriel’s turn to send you a subtle yet pointed look in your direction. A suppressed smile tugs at his lips when you quickly avert your gaze and he realizes he wasn’t the only one keeping a secret.

“Off you go, my little shadow. See you later.”

Once the backpack is secured to her, she takes Nyx’s waiting hand and runs off to the entrance with him. Azriel almost frowns but then, at the top of the stairs, she turns around, waving goodbye with a small absent-minded smile.

He watches her go into the school with a surge of that well-known sadness. Tears prick his eyes and though he knows he’s being dramatic, he can’t help the feeling that he’s losing her forever. His sweet little girl who keeps on growing. She’s slipping through his fingers all the time.

Bonus scene

Before his family could indulge in making fun of him, Azriel grasps your hand, drawing you close as he summons his shadows. The inky tendrils swirl around you both, transporting you back to the familiar sanctuary of your home.

"If this is your reaction on her first day of school, I can only imagine what you’ll be like when she has her first crush," you say, a teasing sparkle in your eyes.

Azriel's grip on you tightens. He doesn’t want to grapple further into the inevitability of his daughter's growing independence because to him, Melaina will always be his baby girl. A subtle strain echoes in his voice as he pleads, "Don't."

Easing out of his embrace, you giggle at his dramatics, strolling toward the kitchen with a lightness in your step, intent on brewing some tea. "It's just a couple of hours, Az," you reassure him.

"A couple of hours?" Azriel echoes, a pensive note in his voice as he joins you in the kitchen.

Having taken the entire week off, he had intended to be present for every moment—dropping Melaina off and picking her up during her first week at school. He didn’t plan for much other than that and he was used to spending his days off with his little family but now Melaina was off at school, leaving the two of you alone.

The kettle placed on the stove begins to whistle, harmonizing with the new thought that brews in his mind. You’re raising your steaming cup of tea to your lips, peering over at Azriel as he walks up to you. “What? You want some?” You ask, raising your cup to him.

Azriel shakes his head with a smile. Carefully taking the cup from you, he places it onto the counter behind you. He gently but firmly holds your chin, coaxing you to meet his gaze. The faint blush on his cheeks returns, a soft hue that complements the golden brilliance in his eyes as he looks down at you with adoration because you’ve given him everything he’s ever dreamed of and more.

Still, there's an insatiable desire within him for even more moments, more shared dreams, and more of you.

“Let’s have another?”

“A baby?”

Azriel nods, attentively studying your features for any nuanced emotion. He feels relief when you smile and you voice your answer without having to say anything, flooding him with love through the bond you share. The two of you had discussed having children years ago, almost two years before having Melaina. After she was born, you mirrored each other’s desires for having more but had agreed on waiting but not too long as you wanted your children to grow up together.

“We do have a couple of hours to ourselves,” you remind him again, embracing him with arms entwined around his neck, fingers brushing through the back of his hair.

He hooks his arms under your knees, lifting you up with ease and you’re wrapping your legs around his waist. He grins when your legs tighten around him and kisses you.

“Let’s not waste another second.”

a/n: hope you enjoyed this as much as I did writing it <3 Sorry, I skipped ahead. I do want to eventually write an imagine for when Az & reader first find out they're having a baby. That might be the next imagine for this series.

tagging: @fxckmiup

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel imagine #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #az!dandelions

524 notes · View notes

msmorningstaarr · 5 months

Text

let me fill you up | Jaime Lannister x F!Targaryen reader

ao3 | masterlist

Pairing: Jaime Lannister x F!Targaryen reader

Summary: You, a Targaryen princess were married into the Lannister fold to ensure the alliance between the two houses, ensuring your eldest brother’s claim to the Iron Throne. Now, Lord Jaime makes your days filled with happiness and makes you eager to present him babies.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: rhaegar wins AU, no targcest, smuff, fluff, breeding kink, praising kink, a lot of pet names (sweet girl, princess, love), reader has no physical description besides the silvery white targaryen hair, creampie, oral (f receiving), a very devoted husband commited to your pleasure, smut, sex;

a/n: Happy new year! I had posted I wanted to write something like that and it's been a while since I want to write something other than holy and heathen because I must admit I'm not very satisfied with what I've been writing lately. Some validation kudos, comments and reblogs would be very important to me, seriously :') I’ve been thinking in turning this into a small series but I’m not so sure. Could you give me your thoughts on this too? please, enjoy your reading!

Taglist: @princessanglophile @hiroikegawa @hiraethrhapsody

You are sitting surrounded by your maids and children on a breezy night, covered with a fur coat and a crimson silk dress under it. Attentively, you go stitch by stitch and slowly form a lion, sigil of your husband’s house. Ever since Robert’s Rebellion ended and your brother, King Rhaegar Targaryen won, you became promised to the former knight of the Kingsguard, now Lord Jaime Lannister. Life in the lion’s den was not difficult, once Lord Tywin treated her with the most kindness and Jaime was still coming out of his shell. At first, he was your sworn sword in King’s Landing and spent plenty of time together in an unbalanced relationship. Now, you two are sharing a bed after a tumultuous year of war and destruction, as equals. In the beginning, you were sceptical about marrying into the Lannister household, but as the months went by, you found yourself drowned at him. Jaime is careful, gentle and kind. He brings you a small dandelion every morning once he knows it reminds you of home.

His only quirk was the strange attachment to his sister, Lady Cersei. But after being sent to Dorne to marry Prince Oberyn of House Martell and getting distant from each other, your relationship with your husband seemed to finally thrive.

“It appears to be beautiful, my lady.” Said one of her maids, taking care of your youngest son, a small silvery blonde figure of two years of age.

“A bright lion handkerchief for Jaime to carry with him.” You reply, admiring your piece of work. “Do you believe your father will like it, sweetling?” You then ask your eldest daughter, an adorable child of four. Your daughter eagerly nods her head and wraps her hands around one of your fingers to pull the fabric closer to her eyes.

“Dada will love it, mama!” The little one exclaimed, spinning around with the kerchief on her tiny hands.

“What will I love, if I’m allowed to ask?” A tall, blonde figure shows up in your private bedchambers, wearing a classic Westerland attire with a crimson fabric and intricate strings of gold shaped into the sleeves and collar. You smile sweetly to Jaime as he approaches you and grabs your middle child to hold in his arms.

“Papa!” The blonde little girl runs towards her father to embrace his legs and your maids stand up to bow to their lord.

“Have you missed me, dear?” Jaime asked and the fussy children eagerly nodded at him, embracing their father even more. Sometimes, seeing Jaime being so loving and kind towards your children simply melted your heart. You felt the urgency to kiss him and dig your fingers onto his bright hair, begging him for another child. Your cunt ached in pleasure to the thought of Jaime pumping his seed inside of you. You were still young and could bear many more children.

“Mm-rrhm…” You scoffed. “I have missed you too, husband.”

The three children giggled and the child on his arms hid his face on the crook of Jaime’s neck. The eldest covered her laugh with her tiny hands and the youngest beamed along their siblings. Jaime came closer to you and caressed your cheeks with his free hand. Then, a single and gentle kiss he places over your forehead, making your heart flutters with love and passion.

“I have missed you too, my love.” Jaime said, passing his fingertips on your chin and smiling at you.

Your maids quickly stood up and bowed at their overlord as a sign of respect. “Excuse me, my lord, my lady,” Said the servant girl. “Let us take the children so you can rest.”

“But I want to stay with papa!” Said the elder daughter, pouting and crossing her arms. The other two children whined and complained along, but you lowered into their level whilst Jaime talked to the youngest on his arm.

“Sweetlings,” She said, caressing their cheeks. “Your father is rather tired after riding for so long. Go with her, I promise you, your siblings, me and your father will have plenty of time together on the morrow. Is that understood, my loves?”

“I can take you to ride a horse tomorrow and even let you eat lemon cakes before super. What do you think?” Jaime asked, delivering the fussy child from his arms to the other maid. In unison, the three infants agreed and left disappointed. Once you and your husband were alone in your bedchambers, Jaime smiled at you gallantly. You embrace him intimately and are finally able to feel the warmth of his muscular body and feel the softness of his golden hair. His lips reach yours and in a whirlwind of sensations, your cunt is already dripping in anticipation just by a simple touch coming from him. Once he breaks the kiss, he keeps holding you by your waist and gazing at you with admiration.

“You have been gone for too long, love.” You say, passing your fingertips on his lips. He smiles and gives you a peck on the lips before speaking.

“I had duties with your brother, Our Grace King Rhaegar, sweet girl.” Jaime replies, pulling her out gently and grabbing the fabric she embroidered for him.

“I hope you like it, I made it just for you.” You point out, joining your hands to follow him. He keeps smiling as he observes attentively the intricate work you did.

“I shall cherish it and take it wherever I go, dragon princess.” He replied, folding and putting the kerchief in one of his pockets. You giggle as you hear him calling you ‘dragon princess’, a custom he chose to never abandon as a form to remember the late days of their relationship “I wish I had more time to be around and play with the children, I have been missing them and you.”

“They made drawings every day and left it on your desk at your office.” You reply, walking to the window and being followed by him.

“I will make sure to have them guarded in our chambers. Safe as our gold.” He says, hugging you from behind and kissing your neck lightly. You beam in ecstasy feeling his body smother you into a comforting embrace and full missing him.

“Sometimes I still cannot believe we are wedded to each other. You were my sworn shield in King’s Landing!” You exclaim as his hand caresses your empty belly and it tingles by his touch. He grins at your words and says.

“Most people are not so lucky to know your spouse before the wedding day. I consider myself the most lucky man in the world because I could be in your acquaintance from so long ago.” He replies, falling his head on the crook of your neck.

You turn around to be face to face with Jaime, feeling the cold breeze of the rock hitting your back and giving you small shocks as Jaime caresses your back, making you experience a thermal shock and shudder to his touch.

“I feel very lucky to be your wife, Jaime. Most women are not so fortunate to have such a kind, loving and handsome husband.” You mutter as he strokes your hair, in awe with your beauty.

“I guess we are fortunate to be together after so many troubles in war. We even brought new lives into this world to paint a new, brightful history.” He replies, caressing your womb. You stare at his fingers passing up and down your belly and glances at him with a sweet smile.

“And we could have more, love. I must admit I feel empty for so long and I want to give you more children… I know I can give you an entire army of your own. Half lion, half dragon. Unstoppable creatures.”

“You feel empty, love?” He asks, smirking and you eagerly agree with him. “Then allow me to fill you up…” Jaime finished, slowly undoing the intricate laces of your dress to reveal your bare skin under the crimson fabric. In response, you open his attire slowly and little by little his white tunic appears to her eyes.

By this point, your cunt is already sore in anticipation for the moment about to happen and clenches around nothing once he pushes the last section of string holding your garment, releasing you from the pressure tightening your upper body. Jaime pushes down your dress and your underwear is now on display for him, which makes him bite his lip and eagerly take down your white camisole to show him your bare body. You moan as he squeezes your breast and pinches your nipples whilst kissing you. You quickly take off his own undershirt to show off his chest.

“So eager is my dragon princess.” He playfully says, leading you to bed and carefully laying you down. With devotion, he starts to kiss your feet, legs and knees, his hands roaming through your thighs and hips. “Spread your legs for me, little dragon.”

You part your legs, obeying his soft command. “So wet… I can see you truly missed me, my love.” He says, kissing your inner thighs as your body squirms in pleasure before he reaches your intimacy.

“Oh… I have missed you so much, my lion.” You moan your words as he kisses your groyne and passes his fingers lightly over your clit, making your womb tremble and convulse to his touch.

“I can see that, just as I missed you, my dragon princess. Do I have permission to give you a lord’s kiss?” He asks and you only nod in response, making Jaime wet his lips with his own saliva before diving into your dripping core and you to scream involuntarily as his tongue and lips eat you up with full desire. Jaime circles his tongue around your clit and roam around your entire intimacy, making your hips bounce onto his direction. It was his costume to make you come every time before he would be inside of you, now could not be different.

You feel your body explode as if someone threw you into dragon fire as Jaime relentlessly pleases you, making magic with his tongue. Skillfully, he explores your intimate area inch by inch with eagerness, making you dig your fingers on his golden curls, pulling him closer to your cunt and you contorses your body urging for more. Tears of pleasure fall off as you feel goosebumps once you realise you are close to your climax.

As the intensity builds, Jaime's movements become more deliberate, pushing you closer to the edge of bliss. Your breath hitches, and your fingers entwine in his golden locks, urging him on. The world narrows down to the pleasure he provides, the connection between you deepening with every passing moment.

When the climax finally crashes over you, Jaime doesn't relent. He continues to caress your sensitive core with his tongue, prolonging the sweet release. Your body shudders with pleasure, and you feel the bond between you and Jaime reaching new heights.

“Husband…” You try to stop him and give yourself some time to take a breath, but Jaime does not back off and part your legs once more, holding it as he keeps licking, kissing and sucking your pussy.

“No no, wife… let me please you and bring you to climax once more…” He cuts your words and gently goes back, but now he plays with his fingers on your clit, with far less pressure and slowly draws circles around it, taking soft moans from you. Jaime rises to hover over you, a wicked glint in his eyes. His fingers trace patterns on your flushed skin as he leans in for a heated kiss, allowing you to taste the remnants of your own pleasure on his lips. “Taste yourself, love.”

And not so long after, you scream his name as you feel waves of pleasure hitting your body as a lightning bolt hits the ground in a storm. Your body is trembling and your legs seem to be two wooden sticks, barely able to stand.

“Please… inside of me, Jaime… I need you…” You plead with him, pulling his body to be on top of yours.

“Your wish is my command, princess.” He replies, kissing you passionately once more and positioning between your legs. Jaime's eyes meet yours, filled with a mixture of desire and adoration. The anticipation was hanging heavy in the air, your bodies aligned perfectly, and as he slowly entered you, a shared moan escaped both of your lips.

The sensation is electrifying, the culmination of the pleasure he bestowed upon you and the intimate connection between your bodies. Jaime moves with a rhythmic precision, each thrust deepening the bond that exists only between you two.

“My perfect princess takes me so well…” He grows as thrusts into you going back and forth nonstop. You lock him by involving your legs around his waist and feeling his hard cock entering your cunt in full force, reaching your cervix and making you beg for more in his ear.

The room echoes with the sounds of your shared ecstasy, a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through the stone walls. The flickering candlelight casts shadows that dance across your entwined bodies, creating a tapestry of love and passion.

“Put another babe on my belly Ser, please…” You beg him as moans leave your mouth and the sound of crashing bodies fill the room quickly.

“With pleasure, love…” He says once more. Jaime moves with a rhythmic precision, each thrust deeper inside of your pussy in farfetched positions. He missed you too much after months away from you and it shows by the way he kisses you as he moves desperately to have more of mounting his dragon. The room echoes with the sounds of your shared passion, a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through the stone walls. The flickering candlelight casts shadows that dance across your entwined bodies. As Jaime's movements become faster, the pleasure intensifies, and you find yourself on the verge of another climax. The pleasure is overwhelming, and your bodies move in perfect harmony.

With a final, fervent thrust, Jaime succumbs to the ecstasy and releases his seed deep inside of your womb, growling and grunting with relief and utter bliss. You hit your own orgasm as you feel the warm jets of his seed invading your walls and your body squirm and you scream his name, crying out.

Your bodies tremble in the aftermath, and he collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. The room is filled with a comforting silence as you both catch your breath. Jaime's fingers gently trace patterns on your skin as you bask in the warmth of the afterglow. “Do you think we created one more life for our household, love?” You ask him, laying your head on his chest. The world outside your chambers seems distant, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, lost in the serenity of each other's embrace.

“Depending on your fertile womb, my love, I have no doubts you are.” He replies, caressing your silvery white hair. “But we must endure in our pursuit on a daily routine. Just to make sure our fourth babe is on the way.” He playfully replies, smirking at you, who mischievously smiles back at him and kisses his lips, wiping some strings of sweat from his face.

Jaime presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his voice a soothing murmur, "I love you, my dragon princess."

And you, wrapped in the arms of the man you love, whisper back, "And I love you, my lion shield."

476 notes · View notes

milksuu · 1 year

Text

Second Magic

Pairing(s): Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III & II / witch!fem!reader

Word count: 2.OK

Content/Warnings: soulmates, reincarnation, immortal, soft magic, slice of life, fluff, minimal use of y/n, minor angst, implied sexual themes, minor blood

Summary: Death claims everyone at some point. Unfortunately for you, your gift of magic cursed you with eternal youth and an ability that has shunned you from the village of Berk. More than one-hundred years later, memories resurface when you’re visited for a potion from Berk’s next chief.

He was the spitting image of your long-lost love—your soulmate—Hiccup Horrendous Haddock II.

a/n: hello there everyone! I'm back with something new to add to the hiccupxreader tags. still on my mythical/magical kick. I do plan to have about three parts to this. so please stay tuned for updates, or let me know if you'd like to join a tag list. thank you and please enjoy.

There came a knock at the door. No one ever knocked on a witch's door by accident.

From the bedroom window, you peeked through the muslin curtain. Below the two-story cottage, grew a garden of lush greens and wild flowers. Where the weeds and dandelions led a trail to your front porch, a figure stood at your door. More pestering thuds bothered the home and the skin of your nose wrinkled. Muttering a thing or two, you ambled down the aching stairs. Before reaching the door, you rummaged through a decorative drawer, procuring a gray river rock. It was enchanted with one of your magic spells—a screeching stone, you called it.

“You can stop trying to break down my door,” you said, pressing the stone against the entryway. “Didn’t you read the sign posted on the oak tree outside? Clearly, it said no trespassing.”

“No—think I might’ve missed it,” the muffled voice of a young man answered, and it seemed honest enough. The stone hummed at the response. “Are you [Y/N], by chance?”

“There’s a chance I could be,” you said with soured lips. “Not many people come this far into the woods. And fewer people know of me, let alone my name. Which leads me to ask, who exactly sent you?”

“Gothi sent me. She mentioned you two knowing each other,” he replied in truth, and the stone continued its soft hymns. “She said if there’s anyone who could help me, it would be you.”

She’s still alive?

“That all depends. I trust Gothi, but I’ll need to trust you as well. You can start by telling me your name.”

There was a beat in the air. “It’s Hiccup.”

The ghost of your breath trapped itself inside your chest. That name—it had been buried beneath over a century ago. Yet the stone sang sweetly, and your heart squeezed in a haunting delight. A part of you wished it would scream. Wretched and revolting as it was, it would give you reason to cast the stranger away.

To your grief, he wasn’t so much a stranger as you thought.

Pocketing the stone, you opened the door with a creak. Meeting the green meadow of his eyes, your magic dug its fiery claws between your ribs. With all your power, you tried not to let his familiar freckles unsettle you. Fearing if you did, your magic would spring out of control. The windows would shatter. The roof would crumble to dust. The fireplace would spark and scorch the floors. Or something much worse. Touch him, and reveal when death would knock on his own door.

You wouldn’t let that happen. Not again. Not ever.

With a deep breath, you pushed the door open wider. “Come in,” you said, "we can talk more inside.”

He tipped his chin and thanked you for the invitation. When he stepped through, his gaze swept about your home. Dried flowers, herbs and spices hung from every inch of ceiling by twine. Sunlight spilled from the white-painted windows, and warmed the cushions of two chairs perched near the fireplace. Bookcases stood on either side of the mantle, stretched tall enough to touch the rafters, and wide enough to cover the entire walls. At the back of the home was the kitchen and brewing space. With emerald cabinets and honied-countertops, stacked with jars and vials, scattered petals, and corked potions.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you said. “I’ll prepare us something warm to drink.”

With a blink, he tore his gaze from the foliage and oddities. “Sure, I would appreciate it.”

When you left for the kitchen, he absently traced a hand against the chairs upholstery. Although it matched its counterpart, there were subtle differences; the legs were built taller, and arm rests crafted higher. When he took a seat, it felt made for someone of his stature—an odd thing to notice. His gaze raised to a row of books on one of the bookcase shelves. One particular book stood out among the jewel-toned backs of scarlet, green, and yellow. A simple spine of leather, softened over-time with use, and streaks of charcoal staining the edges.

Like a cool breeze, a sense of familiarity swept through him, touching the marrow of his bones. It begged the question.

“Have you always lived here by yourself?” Hiccup asked.

“You could say that.”

For a moment, you lost yourself in the fragrant pools. When was the last time you served someone tea? It may have been the day before a young man's mortal fate—the same day you couldn’t convince him to stay. Leaving you to join the collection of things he left behind. Your throat tightened around what felt like a ball of hot wax. Searing as it was, you swallowed its entirety.

Balancing the trembling porcelain, you returned to the next room and took a seat of your own.

“I’m sorry if I was rude earlier. I’ve…never welcomed visitors. It’s always been safer that way.” With a smile, you offered him a cup. “But between Gothi sending you and your genuine nature, I’d like to help you.”

“Thanks—and you don’t have to apologize to me. I’m the one who decided to come here unannounced. So…” Hiccup trailed off, taking a drink. He stared at the ripples with solemnity. “My father isn’t doing so well. And you know Gothi, she’s the best Seer we have on Berk. She’s done all she can, but it’s not going to be enough. When I asked if there was anything more I could do, she recommended that I seek you out.”

“I’m sorry about your father,” you said, lowering your own cup. “If Gothi wasn’t able to help him, then he must be very sick.”

“I’m trying not to think about it too much.” He worked the tension of his lips between his teeth. Then pitched a sincere look your way, and said, “So you know, I’m not worried about you being a witch. If anything, I find myself pretty lucky to ask for your help. Even if that does mean I have to sell my soul for it.”

“I have some good news for you, then. I won’t be needing it. Quite frankly, I wouldn’t even know what to do with yours,” you said with a laugh. “But most spells and potions require something of personal value. At least, the stronger ones do.”

Setting your tea cup aside, you hopped onto your toes. Approaching one of the bookcases, you trailed a finger against the backs of countless titles. Your search came to an end when you plucked one out; dense with musky pages, a silver lock clasped at the side, and a small wooden door carved into the cover.

Peering over your shoulder, you found your nosy company arched forward in his chair. You cleared your throat, “Don’t think about peeking over here. A witch never reveals her secrets.”

He apologized under his breath, and shifted his chin away. But like a child snuffed out of his curiosity, he wore a pout of disappointment. You smiled in amusement, and brought your attention back to the book.

You knocked against the small door in a melodic tempo. The little door sprang open, revealing a tiny ear inside. You brought your mouth close, whispering the incantation with the smallest voice you could muster. Too loud, and the door would snap shut against your lips.

An unpleasant experience you remembered from childhood.

The lock clicked open, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Page after page, you mumbled and zipped through each recipe. A couple more turns, you tapped against the right one. Breezing through the ingredients, you had all but one. Oh buttercups, you blushed.

“What is it?” Hiccup furrowed his brows at your dawning expression. “Everything all right?”

“It’s a bit hard to explain. I—I don’t have one of the ingredients any longer. But maybe you still do,” you exclaimed, taming the warmth of your cheeks. “Come with me.”

With a tilt of your head, you gestured to the kitchen. Your guest rose from his seat, following your footsteps. With instructions for him not to touch anything, you scrambled to find your proper ingredients; mugwort, newt tail, bog water, and a strand of witch hair. Tossed and muddled by mortar and pestle, you poured the mixed contents into a glass jar.

“Time for the last ingredient,” you said, picking up a kitchen knife, “hold out a finger.”

Although hesitant, he lifted a hand. “Tell me you’re not going to cut it off. I’m already down a leg, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Not at all. That would be more than what I actually need,” you answered, albeit a little too plainly. With your other hand, you touched the stone tucked in your dress pocket. “You only have to be honest when I ask you this question. If you’re not, then we’ll both hear about it.”

He nodded carefully. “Go ahead.”

“Have you ever—Oh, how should I put this?” Calming the storm of embarrassment brewing in your chest, you exhaled the words in one breath. “Have you ever committed the coupling act?”

There was a gulp. Then a twitch of his lips. Followed by a blush that bloomed from nose to ear. “What? No, I—I haven’t. What kind of question is that?”

Without a word, you sliced the tip of his finger. A hiss sizzled from his mouth when you squeezed it open. Aligning the bottle underneath, you caught the blood falling in pitter-patters. Once enough dripped into the brew, a plum of red smoke burst into the air. Both of you coughed and waved your hands around the space. When the pungent cloud faded into wisps, you corked the bubbling potion.

“A warning would’ve been nice.” He wrapped his finger in a handkerchief you provided. He went on to mutter, “Not sure why you couldn’t use your own finger.” By the delivery, the last part was meant to stay in his head.

Embarrassment washed through your veins, and painted every inch of your skin posy pink. The sight of it colored his own complexion.

“I didn’t mean to say that, honestly,” he apologized after the realization struck him. “It just sort of came out.”

“Absolutely no tact at all,” you chastised, snatching back the handkerchief. “Gods, you’re just as bad as him.”

He blinked with mystification. “Him?”

A slip of the tongue had the back hairs of your neck bristling. Magic pulsed like coils of lightning in your stomach. Crackling up through your chest, wanting to burn deeper holes in your heart. The roof groaned and creaked. Grains of wood dust fell onto your nose, dispelling the awful feeling.

“You have to go. Please, take it and leave. And don’t worry about repaying me.” Before he could argue, you forced the potion into his possession. With a clap of a hand, the wood beneath his feet shifted, motioning him out the front door.

“Wait a second.“ He wedged his prosthetic between the shutting door and frame. “Right bookcase, third shelf, leather back.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“There’s a book that belongs to my family. Ask me how I know.” The question was rhetorical, and in your bafflement, he continued. “My families crest is sealed in its spine. And the only way you could have it is if someone gave it to you. You said you never had visitors. Sorry to say, but I’m not buying it.”

“That book has nothing to do with you or your family,” you glowered, and the stone screeched and howled from your pocket. You clapped your hands against your splitting ears, with your company mimicking your movements. Over the prevailing wails, you cried, “You’re right—I lied and I’m sorry for it! It belonged to your great-grand uncle. And that’s the truth of it.”

The screeching stone fell to whispers. But the thumping of your heart continued to beat in your ears.

“Wait. My great-grand uncle?” He caught a breath in his throat. “You don’t mean—there’s no possible way you’re talking about—”

“I am.” Your voice dropped to a whisper. “My only visitor before you; Hiccup Horrendous Haddock II.”

#hiccup x reader #httyd #hiccup httyd #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #how to train your dragon #hiccup horrendous haddock ii #reader insert #httyd fanfiction #httyd 2 #x reader #fanfiction #hiccup x you #httyd book references #you bet we're going to get some flashbacks of hiccup the second #buckle up dragon riders #we're expecting some angst in this fanfic

591 notes · View notes

julsvu · 1 month

Note

Hi! If your requests are open can I request a Leo Valdez with an S/O on their birthday and such (mine is on April 18th so coming up soon as of writing this!) have a great day/night!

gn! reader

💬: HELLOOO, ADVANCED HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! have a great day/night too! :DD

📒: fluff !!

ever since january started, he started counting the days until your birthday

on new years, he'd say, "108 days until your birthday :D"

he'd also be relentlessly planning on what gift he should make you, if he should plan a birthday party for you, what cake should he bake for you, etc etc

a day after your birthday, he was fumbling around with random stuff in bunker 9, brainstorming basically

i feel like he'd be really indecisive about what gift he'd make you 😭😭 so he'd spend MONTHS brainstorming and then actually start deciding what he'd make you the day before your birthday

he came to the conclusion to just make as much as he can, and put it into a gift box (inside would be a basket, filled with the gifts he had made for you)

it wasn't too much, but not too little either, just the perfect amount

it ranged from little rings of all the things you've mentioned (it can range from the small dandelion you said you liked, or the dog you saw when you and him were walking down the street), the rings had a stamp on the back of them, so it'd leave a little mark on your skin whenever you'd take them off

he'd also make this cool necklace for you, and there was a little box inside the basket that was filled with custom beads inside :D every bead had an extra one just in case you'd drop one, too

he'd LOVE to host a birthday party for you, he'd get the rest of the seven in on it too! some of them would distract you while leo, hazel and annabeth were preparing the area

annabeth was def the one that worked on the format of the area, though

if you didn't like birthday parties, leo would sneak into your cabin, giving you a tray of your favourite breakfast with a grin plastered on his lips (he was holding the tray in his left hand, while he held the gift box on his right hand)

"my love! happy birthday!" he greets, giving your lips a peck before placing the tray on your bedside table

he somehow memorized your sleep patterns?? he'd know what time you'd wake up, or what time you'd usually sleep

your birthday cake was very carefully designed 😭 except for the greeting that was on the top, which was leo's job to do

"happy birthday, (name) <3 <3!" was written in messy cursive

basically, he'd plan this breakfast date with you in your cabin

and the rest of the day would be filled with the others giving you their gifts!! you and the seven went out to celebrate your birthday at a carnival

which ended up with all of you having more Polaroid pictures hung up in your rooms

the ones you got were you and leo's hands holding each other, and you and the gang on a rollercoaster C:

overall, leo would make sure your birthday would be absolutely perfect, filled with fun BUT not dangerous adventures <3

#leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x y/n #hoo #hoo x reader #pjo x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo x you

94 notes · View notes

kodamaghost00 · 5 months

Text

30 Monty Gator Headcanons!!

——————————————————

[Disclaimer!!]

This post will contain: NSFW,Sfw,Fluff,Smut

It’s also Genderless for the girls,gays and theys! You are a Technician in these scenarios!

——————————————————

Let’s begin!

He enjoys talking to you but won’t initiate any conversations because he thinks you will get bored of him eventually.

He for sure loves physical touch and sometimes purrs when you cuddle him in his greenroom.

He’s a massive animatronic and will be gentle with you due to his size.

He hates his original name “Montgomery” according to him it is “A wacky name for a bass player” and that’s why he prefers his nickname.

He’s very jealous of you. If anyone seems like a threat to him he will stand next to you wrapping his tail around you.

If he is having an outburst again the other band members and staff would call you to calm him down. He seems to only listen to you when he’s in that state.

He’d definitely have a picture of you two in his greenroom.

He was the biggest fan of Bonnie and definitely had a plushie of him in his room.

He has the biggest marking kink you could ever imagine. He can’t go one session without giving you at least two bite marks.

He is very dominant and also demands this position. Every time you try to initiate something he’d quickly turn it around so he’s the one on top of you.

He would use the pet names “Rockstar” and “Babe” a lot.

He gets easily attached to things you give him. Even if it’s something as simple as a dandelion you picked up before work, he’d keep it forever…

He likes to pick you up and he will make cheeky comments about your height. (Even if you’re just 1cm shorter than him).

He loves to edge you until your legs shake from frustration and he’s always teasing you about it.

He loves seeing you get all flustered when he compliments you.

He’d be the type to say “Did ya’ do somethin with your hair? Looks great…” even though you did nothing new with your looks. It makes you laugh every time.

He’d have a hard time showing you affection through words so he likes to leave you little notes that say “have a good day/night” or “I hope we’ll see each other soon.”

When you’re working with him in Parts & Service he’d always look at you with admiration. He doesn’t know a thing about his mechanics so he’s really impressed with your abilities.

Sometimes on your breaks or after your shift you go to gator golf to see Monty and occasionally play golf with him. He’s obviously a really good player so it’s hard to compete with him.

Once you won a game and he just pushed you into the lakes and laughed historically as you tried to get out.

You tried to get back on him and do the same but he was too heavy to be pushed away. So he just jumped to the side and you fell down into the lake yourself. He laughed and said “Haha! Karma is a bitch, rockstar!”

He would also enjoy taking you around the Pizzaplex to places where you weren’t before.

When you cuddle with him he always puts his head on top of yours.

Sometimes you two get too caught up in a conversation that he forgets to charge and he goes on standby mode. (Freddy comes to help you if that happens).

He knows your work schedule better than you do yourself. “Monty when do I have to start working again tomorrow?”. “8pm till 6am. You have the night shift tomorrow.”

He lets you put on his glasses and eventually gets you a pair of them in the gift shop.

He loves to hear you beg for pleasure. He will overstimulate you so much that you can only say his name and beg for more.

With enough convincing and reassurance he’ll open up to you about his feelings. And once he does he’s extremely grateful that you don’t judge him.

If he’d ever hurt you by accident he wouldn’t forgive himself. But he’ll be harsh if you want him too.

When he has an outburst and you get called to handle it he’ll say stuff like “Why would ever want to be with me!? Don’t you see that I’m a monster…?” while his voice cracks down while he sobs in your arms.

——————————————————

Thank you all for reading my little Headcanons!(人´∀`) It’s been my first time listing them and I’m quite happy how it turned out! Perhaps I’ll even do more Fnaf SB characters?

- Your Ghost ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

#monty gator #fnaf monty #monty x reader #monty fnaf #montgomery gator #glamrock monty #genderless reader

191 notes · View notes

kiri-tatsu · 1 year

Text

This time I won't leave your side

you died before their eyes many years ago barely lived your life, you still had many years before you, this time you come back to them, living and breathing again. Was this a sick joke played by Celestia on them? But no matter, they wish for more as you are back, after all they will love you a thousand more times no matter how you come back to them, they will always be able to tell it's you.

tw- some angst, reader death, fluff, strictly platonic(Qiqi & Nahida), the rest could be read as platonic or romantic, leaning more to romantic on them tho, characters- venti, zhongli, raiden, nahida, wanderer/scaramouche, xiao, aether, lumine, albedo, and qiqi

Venti

A man, a bard, a god, an archon, immortality was granted to him when he be came the Anemo archon, whether it be a curse or a gift, he didn’t know anymore. But he knew it was a curse bared by him the moment he found his beloved laying in a field full of bloodied flowers.

If only he had been quicker, or if he never let them go alone by themselves to do their commissions, then maybe, they wouldn’t be six feet under.

Every day he would visit their grave in the late hours of the night, sit and talk with a bottle of dandelion wine, as if they were there with him. He knew no matter how much he spoke, his words will never make it to their ears.

One day he awoke by their grave, he drunk himself drunk and decided to just spend the night with them. But there was someone else by him when he awoke, they had messy h/c, and he couldn’t see anything else.

“Who... Who are you?” He asked as he sat up, and the stranger turned to him, and he felt his heart leap to his throat, his chest hammering, and his eyes widened in astonishment. “Good morning, sir, it seems like you had a fun night,” they smiled at him as he sighed nodding with his own smile upon his face.

“That I did,” he knew that they wouldn’t remember anything, but to have them here now, he was happy and content. He took up one of the unfinished bottles as they sat in the grass beside him, and they spoke for hours beside the grave.

Zhongli

He lived for eons; lovers, friends, people he thought of as family, have came and gone. He should’ve been used to it by now, but no matter what he could never handle it each time he seen it.

He is immortal, he is cursed with seeing mortals he grows close to die in front of his eyes no matter what, that is just the way of life. No matter how many times he sees it, he will never grow used to it.

Rain poured from the night skies heavily one night, it was difficult to see, and he knew as he waited for his love, they might perish in the storm. The next morning, he was right, someone awoke and seen their body on the side of the road, cold, and frail.

He blamed himself no matter how much someone else told him otherwise, when the 76th director of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor died and his young grandchild had taken over, he went to work of her, Hu Tao was her name.

Visiting the grave of his beloved was painful, but every year on their birthday, on their anniversary, or even on their death anniversary, Zhongli would get up, ask Hu Tao for the day off, and sit at his beloved grave for the whole day.

Their birthday was coming up, so he decided to ask Hu Tao for the day off, and he was allowed to leave for the whole day. He went to go prepare; flowers, tea, some letters he written to them, and even some of their favorite food.

When he carried all of the things in his arm, he nearly dropped some of the stuff, “Hey, do you need help?” That voice nearly made him freeze, but he turned with a small nod. “That would be very appreciated,” he spoke kindly to them, and when he looked into their eyes, he knew.

He knew they had found him again on their own, and like always, he would stay by their side, until the end of his curse. He would love them no matter the shape or form in their next life, it was still his love.

Raiden Ei/Shogun

Life and death, such a concept what hard to accept when you lived hundreds of years. No matter how much death you witness, or how much you try to forget it, it will always be there to haunt you until the end of time.

The land of eternity was difficult to live in with all the hostile people, the lightning and all the rain, yet it was such a beautiful place. Beauty would always be found in the storm no matter how you see it, and the electro archon knew that.

The day her darling passed due to some treasure hoarders, he promised herself to rid of all of them on her lands and that she did, well, her puppet did. Still meditating, she waited for until her puppet would come back, and this time she did with someone else in tow.

They seemed familiar, and they looked beaten up, she looked at her puppet who looked elsewhere as she tugged on the rope that was connected to their hands. “Shogun... What is the meaning of this?”

The person looked up at Ei, and she felt her heart drop to her stomach, their eyes formed into a glare as they looked at her, but her heart was beating rapidly against her chest. They were back again, and she was glad to have them back and alive.

“You, what is your name?” When they stated their name, her heart fluttered as she nodded with a soft smile to herself, they are back, they are alive and breathing. They are safe now, she told herself.

Nahida

She was a god of wisdom, of course she knew of reincarnation, she was locked up for nearly five hundred years, she had a bit of freedom, and she made a friend, one of the sages that had her locked up, they were nice. They wanted to go against Azar’s words and let her free, but the other sages knew of their plans, and they were disposed of.

Nahida no matter how much she sees people come and go, she wouldn’t be able to handle it, she may be over five hundred years old, but she still was a child no matter her knowledge. She cried for hours and hours when Azar came with one of Y/n’s belongings, tainted with splotches of blood.

When she was freed from her prison and Azar was delt with, she would stay by the blond traveler’s side at times. When they had decided to take up a rather difficult commission one day, she went with them, but even then, the two were enough, they just needed a bit more power.

A person from out of nowhere jumped in swinging their weapon with their vision, and they turned to the three with a large smile and wiping the sweat from their brow. Paimon asked loudly for their name, and they stated it with a loud voice clearly proud of their self.

Nahida smiled with a nod, the sage from all those years ago was back, and they were a vision wielder now. The traveler introduced them self with a smile and offered dinner as their gratitude. “And this is Nahida,” she held a hand to her chest, her heart fluttering in happiness. “It’s nice to meet you Y/n, I hope we can be friends,” again, she wanted to say but stopped herself.

Wanderer

The betrayals, as he called them, made him into the man he was years ago, The Balladeer, Scaramouche, The Sixth of the Eleventh Harbingers. He was feared by all, but there was only one person who lived in a cottage in the forests of Snezhnaya, he stumbled across them one day during a harsh winter.

His first thought was to rid of them for even seeing him vulnerable, but he bit his tongue and said nothing as they treated his wounds. Every few weeks he would go and visit them, but he would rather die than let them know.

A particular harsh winter had gone over the land of ice and snow, he knew that tiny cottage wouldn’t be able to keep them safe, so when he went to go visit them after the ice storm had passed, he was met with his fellow harbinger dragging their body out of the home.

“Oh, you need not to worry for them, they are my latest experiment Balladeer,” and he bitterly turned on his heel and went back, their smile and kind eyes pushed into the dark backside of his mind.

When he resided in Sumeru and received his Anemo vision, and his pasts memories as The Balladeer, surprisingly their smile was the first thing he had gathered in his mind. The lands of Sumeru were hot on the day he strolled around, going about his day aimlessly.

He bumped into someone, a small scoff leaving his mouth, “I am so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going!” They rambled as they picked up their things, and they looked up at him with a small frown. His breath hitched as they smiled at him softly, “I’m sorry again,” and they turned on their heel and walked away from him.

Without knowing his own feet moved on their own, and he followed after them without another words, they turned with a smile and he held his face flush. It wouldn’t be so bad to open up to someone now after all that he has been through.

Xiao

The Yaksha, a protector of Liyue, a conqueror of demons, and an adepti. He wished to only rest one night, but in the dead of night, he heard the faint whisper of his name. With a wisp of black and teal, he was met with the sight of his beloved covered in blood and fatui agents and gunners surrounding their body.

All he saw was red as he felt his mask consume his face, there he slayed the ones who caused his dear harm, and once they were slayed, he dropped to his knees by their side. Tears cascading down his cheeks as he took their dying into his arms, their cold hands raising to gently brush some of his tears away.

They spoke lowly, “I love you,” and with that their body fell limp in his arms, be forced himself to carry their body and bury them, no matter how much it tormented his heart. And he forced himself to promise to never go to another mortal or love ever again.

Lantern Rite, the time to be happy, to let xiao lanterns float up into the sky, and spend time with your loved ones or ever friends. But this was yet only year he no longer had his beloved by his side, but instead the blonde traveler and their floating fairy by their side came up to the balcony of Wangshu Inn.

Following behind them was another person, bright/dark eyes, and a smile on their face as they carried a xiao lantern in their hands. “Xiao, this is Y/n,” and his heart fluttered hearing their name, but he crossed his arms and closed his eyes trying to keep his composure. “It’s nice to finally meet you, conqueror of demons,” they said with a smile making him want to hug them tightly and never let them go, but this wans’t his beloved.

This one was a new Y/n, not the one he used to know, but still, he will try to make some conversation, “Likewise mortal.”

Aether

A lone traveler from another world, traveling with his sister, but he lost her along the way to this new world. Teyvat... It was strange, but it was a newly welcomed adventure. The person he met was a beautiful/handsome person in his eyes. He thought he shouldn’t get too attached until he found his sister, but that was inevitable.

They easily broke past his flimsy walls he put up; teasing him for hours that they would spend together, but he knew nothing of this world’s horrors. He thought he was safe just carrying around a sword unknowing of visions.

One day he ventured out to find some fruit leaving his beloved alone in their makeshift camp, and hearing a scream from a bit aways, he turned and ran back. If only he didn’t leave, then maybe he wouldn’t be cradling their body in his arms as they smiled up at him, their eyes closed as they held his hand limply.

And then he found himself staring out into space reminiscing about his days before his floating child companion, she was complaining about something, but he couldn’t hear her as he stared at the person before him. They waved their hand in front of his face as he final was snapped out of his daze.

“I’m sorry... What were you saying?” They let out a small chuckle as he felt his cheeks flush, “I was asking what would you like to order?” Oh, that what Paimon was yelling about, food. But he knew not what to say his words seeming to die on his tongue the more he looked at the person before him.

Who knew reincarnation was possible in this world, but then again it was full of surprise that he was willing to discover as long as this Y/n stays by his side safely at all times.

Lumine

An abyss princess, she was forced to see death and destruction. In every world she traveled with her brother, it was always different, but this was the first time she traveled alone without him.

Back in Khaenri’ah, she was alone, but she bet a blond man, and another person, her first love in this world. They were an amazing person; kind, calm, beautiful in her eyes, and she told them after a few years of friendship.

And when she was going to propose to them, the archons of this world has decided, Khaenri’ah should be no more. Blood, fire, death was everywhere as people ran and screamed for their lives, but where was Y/n?

They were no where in sight as Lumine ran around trying to find them, just as she was about to run into a building the roofs began to cave in, and before she could react, she was pushed out the way.

Her honey-colored eyes turned to see a familiar head of hair get crushed by the fallen debris, and she knew, her love sacrificed their self for her. With a heavy heart, and tears in her eyes as she moved to leave, she looked to see the sky painted red, and fire reaching towards the heavens.

Hundreds of years later she looked over a cliff to watch her brother, the blond man, and a floating child. Took caught up in her gaze, she failed to notice a person running to her, swinging a claymore around.

But before she could get hit by their attacks, she raised her own sword and their blades collided as sparks flew from the two metals. Her breath hitched as they jumped back, their weapon coated in elemental energy as they grinned at her widely. “And so the abyss princess knows to fight,” they snarked with their eyebrows furrowed with that grin upon their face.

“You... What is your name?” They slung their weapon over their shoulder with their grin still upon their face as they jabbed their thumb to their self. “Names Y/n, princess.”

Albedo

Relationship; complicated, complex, and too much effort to maintain, it’s what he always thought. He knew any type of relationship relied on communication, quality time, and even effort.

And somehow, some way, a mortal managed to worm their way into his heart, his darling, his love, his first; Y/n. They were his everything, his friend, his lover, his muse, the reason for him to live. He wanted nothing but to have them in his life for all eternity.

But he was too late, too late to do anything when a sword impaled his darling, all he saw was red as he slayed the beings that harmed them, and when he fell to his knees by their side he was too late to even be there in their last moments.

And after that he never left his lab, be it the one in Dragonspine, or even the one in the one in the Knights of Favonius building. The only time he would turn to see something else other than his research was Sucrose bring more supplies or Klee pestering him.

Out of material for his latest experiment, he heaved a heavy sigh as he looked around his lab; messy, dirty, unorganized, maybe he’ll clean up once he comes back. Leaving his lab, he walks slowly, how long has it been since he left? How long did he stay with his experiment?

His eyes trailed up to the sun; how long has it been since he had been outside? His legs carried him until he collided with another being. “Oh, I’m sorry,” they spoke as Albedo rubbed his head and looked up at them and their outstretched hand.

His heart nearly stopped beating in his chest, “Uhm... Hello?” They questioned a bit awkward from his staring. Shaking his head, he took their hand as they pulled him up, and gave him a smile, “Sorry for bumping into you, I was told by Sucrose to help deliver these to Albedo,” his eyes still couldn’t leave them, but how could he not? His Y/n was back.

He sighed taking in reality, his Y/n was gone... This one was a new one, “That would be me, my apologies, I am a bit out of it,” they smiled at him and waved their hand at him. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to form another companionship.

Qiqi

When she heard of the passing of the person she loved as her parent when she was just barely a few years old to understand, she cried for hours. When she died, her memories of that person were wiped completely but at time you could hear her mention a person’s name when she rambled under her breath to herself about remembering things.

So Baizhu had gifted her a journal to write anything and everything she possibly wanted to remember. And every day she would write about everything and anything, some days she wouldn’t have anything for her journal.

One day she was writing in her journal, and in strolled in the Traveler and Paimon, and her eyes looked up at them a bit disinterested. “Doctor Baizhu is not here... Qiqi will help you instead,” and a person accidently bumped into the traveler making a Qiqi look at them.

“You are clumsy... Apologize,” she said as they helped up the blond and looked down at the little girl, “Hi Qiqi, Doctor Baizhu sent me to come get these for him,” they handed the little girl a slip of paper giving her a smile.

She took the paper with a little smile at the mention of her caretaker as she looked down at the paper, “Qiqi will get this for you...” She smiled up at them as she turned on her heel and gathered what the paper said, when she returned, they were talking with the traveler.

“Qiqi, has gotten what Y/n needed,” she said not realizing what she said, and the person turned to her with a surprised look, before they shook their head and gave her a pat on her hat. “Thank you Qiqi,” and with that they left, and Qiqi took out her journal and wrote the name.

It was familiar as she flipped through her journal, and saw the name on the very first page, Y/n... They had come back, and the zombie girl didn’t even know it, all she knew was she felt warm all over when she talked to them.

im so srry this took awhile, i haven't had any motivation lately :( but i am trying my best, i have an idea for a kaveh x reader oneshot if anyone would be interested to read that when that comes out <3

953 notes · View notes

lavbloom · 2 months

Text

spilled ink

sakusa kiyoomi x reader

you've spent the past few months mentally preparing to get the tattoo that means so much to you, conquering your intense fear of needles, and thankfully it'll be your bubbly bestie shouyo giving you this tattoo . . . right?

18+ (seriously please), banter city, grumpy-but-blushing kiyoomi & disaster-sunshine reader, fluff and semi hurt/comfort, mentions of needles/fear of them, allusions to sex (smut in later chapters)

a/n: so that sakusa x reader post i made over a year ago . . . not 3.5k. more than that. definitely more. anyway, here is chapter one of three ish??? much love, lav 💜💜

You catch the slight tremor in your hand once it’s on the door handle and give it a firm shake, as though you can wiggle the nerves right out of your body. This is fine, you force yourself to think as you push open the shop door. Everything is going exactly as planned. You’re on time for the appointment, Alisa is going to pick you up afterwards to get takeout and fall asleep watching movies on her couch, and Shouyo is going to be as kind and supportive as ever.

You can do this.

Inside, Black Jackal Tattoo & Piercing is quieter than the busy street outside, and the bustle of the sidewalk is swept away as the door closes behind you. The only sound is the click of a keyboard, the squeak of your shoes on the tiled floor, and a distant shrill sound that comes and goes as you make your way to the desk.

A head of ginger hair shoots up from behind the desk, fluffy like a dandelion head, and you manage some small relief when Shouyo grins at you from where he’s abandoned whatever paperwork he was typing up on the shop’s computer.

“You’re here!” He comes rushing out from behind the desk to hug you - Shouyo Hinata has always been, for better or worse, a hugger - and you let him bounce around you for a moment while he does his eager-puppy routine. “Alisa said you were so nervous you almost puked last night, so I didn’t know if you’d show!”

“Of course I was gonna show,” you say with a wobbly laugh, fighting down the urge to actually puke all over Shouyo’s shoes. “You went through all the trouble of getting me a slot between your appointments, it’s the least I could do.”

“Yeah,” Shouyo says, bright smile suddenly dimming and hand scratching the back of his neck. “For sure.” There’s a long pause while he watches you watch him, and you can already feel that bile rising -

“I can’t, um, actually do your appointment.”

“What the hell, dude?!”

“Ow!” Shouyo grimaces, rubbing his shoulder, but you think he’s just being dramatic - you didn’t whack him that hard. “Rude! It wasn’t my idea, okay, but Atsumu called in sick -”

“Naturally.”

“- and I’m the only one whose slots will cover his afternoon appointment. It’s, like, this super big addition to some guy’s sleeve, and everyone else has appointments by four. It’s an emergency!”

You sigh through your nose, arms crossed tight over your chest as Shouyo pleads for you to understand. The tremble has returned to your hands, you notice, and you hope keeping them pressed under your arms hides the worst of it.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I really thought I could help -”

“Sho, it’s fine, I’ll just - I’ll come back another day.”

“I mean, you can still do it. I actually, um, wouldn’t recommend skipping the appointment now,” he adds, mouth twisting in thought, “Sakusa would be pissed. He kinda hates having people make last minute cancellations like that.”

The name has you grimacing, and Shouyo definitely catches the recognition in your eyes, if his wince is anything to go by. A mental image of dark, piercing eyes and a permanent scowl flash through your head, and you let out a quiet sigh.

Shouyo continues, “He’s, like, a total stickler for a schedule - not like Kita, but also not somebody you wanna piss off.”

“So . . . you’re saying I still have an appointment?”

“Yeah!”

“With a total stranger? Who’s an asshole?”

“Well, I mean . . . kind of?” Shouyo scrunches his face up, considering, and then nods again. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“And why would I want to not only not have my friend with me,” you say, making Shouyo whine another apology, “but switch to having some random asshole coworker of his stab tiny needles into me instead?”

“Y/N -”

“Because,” a low voice from the corner of the room says, “he isn’t some random asshole coworker of Hinata’s, but a competent and professional asshole coworker?”

The voice sends a chill down your spine that has nothing to do with the shop’s impressively strong air conditioning. You know you’re going to have to turn around now, but your feet seem to move in slow motion, heart hammering as your eyes meet a dark glare from across the room.

Sakusa, a.k.a. Shouyo’s competent and professional asshole coworker, is immediately too tall and too grouchy to be anything but intimidating. You can’t even gauge how tall he might be from across the room because you’re too busy trying not to stare directly into that deeply-etched frown, his brow furrowed so intently that you think the muscles might just freeze in that spot forever. He’s got his arms crossed, too, but you’re not sure what reason he has to be that guarded; after all, you’ll be the one being stabbed.

You’ve at least confirmed why the name Sakusa sounded so familiar: this is the same Sakusa you met when Shouyo was first brought on at Black Jackal, stiff and frowning back then, too. You remember the glare he sent you and Shouyo from above his black face mask, hovering by the door of his little studio room, itching to dart back inside and close the door behind him.

You also remember the delicate curl of the ivy on his shoulder, revealed by his sleeveless black shirt, trailing down the lightly freckled skin of his bicep. You remember the tilt of his head as he studied you up and down, the slight pinch of his brow as he crossed his arms, the feeling of his stare on the back of your head as you said hello to Atsumu and Bokuto. You remember the lingering coldness as he closed his studio door, like a chill wind sweeping through the hallway in his wake, something elemental about his presence.

Shit.

“I take it this is your friend,” Sakusa says, nodding in your direction as he turns back to Shouyo, like you’re not even in the room anymore - this just gets better and better. The idea of putting yourself in this guy’s hands for the next forty five minutes is making your insides twist around on themselves, and you can’t tell if it’s from anxiety or the prospect of being alone in his studio, as Alisa would probably say with a silly wink. “I thought you meant Yachi.”

“No, Yachi’s not - I mean, she wouldn’t really get a tattoo. This is Y/N.” Shouyo explains, although Sakusa’s face remains impassive. “I mean, I know this is last minute -”

“It’s fine.”

Clearly, it’s not. He’s glowering as though you’ve done him a personal slight by scheduling yourself on the day that Miya got sick; he’s got his hands shoved into the pockets of his black cargo pants now as he shifts off of the wall, but you’re sure they’re clenched.

“Seriously, Hinata,” Sakusa continues, lifting one shoulder in a deeply disgruntled shrug. “I don’t care. Just wish Miya had thought to get his fucking flu shot when I told him to, idiot.”

“Yeah,” Shouyo tries for a laugh, but he’s never been much of a liar. “Anyway, Y/N’s pretty nervous, so maybe they can just come back another day? I thought -”

“I looked at your design,” Sakusa interrupts, gaze locking with yours again. It’s intense, holding you in place while he speaks. “It’ll only take about thirty minutes, if that. Do you seriously need Hinata to do it? Because if you’re just going to cancel, I could’ve come in when I was supposed to.”

You press your lips together, trying to fish for a way to get out of this appointment - and trying to figure out if you even want to. Your stomach is still churning with nerves, that’s for sure, but the way Sakusa is watching you, pinning you in place with just his gaze as you scramble for an answer, is something you had only let yourself think about the night after you’d met him, assuming you’d hardly see Shouyo’s distant and rude coworker again.

“I . . .”

“Y/N, you can cancel.” Shouyo is also a bad whisperer - subtlety in general was never his strong suit. But he’s giving you a way out, probably having to deal with Sakusa after your hasty retreat, so you only feel a rush of gratitude as he offers you a smile. “It’s no big deal, no matter what this grinch has to say about it.” He hooks a thumb in his coworker’s direction, still giving you that knowing smile.

Sakusa sputters for a moment, the most human thing you’ve ever seen him do. “I’m not - Hinata, shut up.”

You can’t help it - you snort. There’s something about indignance on Sakusa’s face that is too funny not to get to you, and you only laugh more when he shoots you a sharp glare. He’s intimidating, sure, but if Shouyo can get under his skin, then he’s more than fallible.

You take a deep breath, sighing through your nose as you shrug. “It’s fine. I wouldn’t want to have wasted anyone’s time.”

Your gaze tilts to Sakusa, whose frown has finally smoothed into something resembling cordiality. “Is now okay to start? I wanna get this over with.”

Black Jackal is an odd maze of little hallways and dead ends, and you shuffle just behind Sakusa, trailing after him like a kid scared of getting lost in a mall.

“You know,” he says over his shoulder once you reach the back of the shop. “Tattoos are usually optional.”

“Yeah? And?”

“Well, you keep talking about this one like you don’t have a choice in the matter.”

The door of his studio is plain, save for a small sign that reads his name - Sakusa Kiyoomi, you read - and a little frowny face etched into the wood.

“Is that the kind of artistry I should be expecting?” You ask, reaching past him to tap on the carving, and Sakusa rolls his eyes.

“Fuckin’ Miya,” he mutters, and you nod in understanding.

“Ruffians,” you say, nodding sagely. “They’ll graffiti anything nowadays, nothing is safe.”

You think you see the ghost of a smile on his mouth as Sakusa lets you inside, following and closing the door behind both of you.

The inside isn’t nearly as plain as you’d suspected. The walls, a cool dove gray, are papered over with designs and photos, magazine spreads carefully tacked up alongside rough sketches and inked canvas, everything with its own place in the sprawling inspiration board that seems to be Sakusa’s studio. His supply cart is neat but plentiful, coloured ink shining under soft lights in a rainbow of options, and there’s a half finished takeout coffee and bagel on the small desk in the corner, clearly his effort at breakfast while he set up for the day.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Sakusa says from behind you, and you turn on your heel to face him. He’s got his arms crossed - again, oh my god - and even through his dark green pullover, his shoulders look ridiculously touchable. Meant to be grabbed, really, used as an anchor to pull yourself up and -

“Why are you acting like you’re being forced to get this tattoo?” His face scrunches slightly in displeasure. “You didn’t lose a bet or anything like that, right?”

“No!” You feel your face heat up, thinking about the insinuations, and remembering that he’s seen the design. You can’t help but let your gaze lower, dropping to rest on his shiny black docs. “It’s not like that at all. I just . . . I’ve been thinking about doing this for a long time, and Shoyou went through all the trouble to help me design it, but I . . .”

And here it comes, the lamest, most pathetic part of this whole ordeal. You swallow the nerves bundled in the back of your throat, clearing the way for your confession. It comes out quiet and sharp.

“I’m just really fucking scared of needles, alright? They freak me out, and this is a thousand of them going into me over a long period of time, and - and it’s freaky and fucked up, okay?”

You’re expecting Sakusa’s coldness, a scoff or an eye roll - hell, given his attitude so far, even a request not to waste his time. What you aren’t expecting is the undignified snort he lets out.

His mouth is pressed tight when your eyes dart back up to his face, like he’s holding in another little laugh, and his brows are raised, a little disbelieving.

“Don’t laugh at me, god!”

“I’m not.” Sakusa’s frown is morphing slowly into something resembling a smile, which rests in the apples of his cheeks more than his mouth, lifting his face until the gloom that hovered over him is evaporating. “It’s just that that’s so normal, and you’re so embarrassed . . . you really don’t have to be.” He snorts again, and you scowl. “No wonder you’re friends with Hinata, you’re just as fuckin’ dramatic.”

“Shut up,” you snap, but Sakusa’s halfway-smile is warming the chill in the studio too well for you to be annoyed. You find your shoulders relaxing a bit as he moves to his desk, taking a sip of his coffee while he rifles through some papers stacked neatly between binders. You take a seat on the rolling stool he nods to, waiting next to the desk for him to find what he needs; you try not to notice how he looms above you, but it’s difficult when you have a front-row seat to his broad hands shuffling around his papers.

“A lot of people get scared, especially once they actually get here and see the machine and everything,” he shrugs, handing you a few of the papers. Consent forms and the like, you realize as you scan the top one. Sakusa has a pen held out for you before you can even ask. “It’s not weird. I mean, you’re letting some random asshole stab tiny needles into you, right?”

You can’t help the cringe that passes over your face, and though he doesn’t laugh again, you can see the teasing glimmering in his eyes. “Sorry about . . . that.”

“It’s fine, I’ve been called worse.” He drums his fingertips on the desk, and the nervousness of the gesture warms you even further. The studio is thawing like a fresh spring day after a storm, and you find yourself breathing a bit deeper as you slowly fill out the paperwork. “Meian sometimes warns people ahead of time that I’m a bit blunt.”

“Blunt?” You echo him without meaning to, distracted by the process of the paperwork and easing ever so slightly under his teasing.

“Okay, he warns people that I’m a dick,” Sakusa says, and the rueful note in his voice catches your attention and draws you away from the form in your hand. “No filter, or whatever.”

“Oh, come on,” you say, tapping the pen on your thigh, squinting at him in your own turn of disbelief. “You’ve gotta know how scary you are when you walk around all mean and grouchy like that. You’re, like, seven foot fourteen and dressed like a bouncer at a goth rave, you can’t also be an asshole, you’re intimidating enough as it is!”

You really need to learn when to keep your mouth shut, you think, because Sakusa’s face drops, brow suddenly knitted tight again as he stares you down, and you’re reminded of how right you are about how intimidating he is when he glares like that.

“Do I really dress like I’m at a goth rave?”

“. . . what?”

“Do I,” he repeats slowly, “dress like I’m at a goth rave?”

And then you see it: the smallest twitch of his cheek, and your horror turns to annoyance in two seconds flat. “Maybe you do.”

“Hm. Seems a bit uncalled for.”

“Seems like you just proved my point exactly, actually,” you shoot back, holding out the paperwork for him to take. “And I didn’t say you were at a goth rave, I said you dress like a bouncer at one. You know, like you’re there to be all serious and break up fights and shit.”

“You’ve got a lot of experience with goth raves?” Sakusa asks as he files the paperwork away in a drawer and reaches across the desk to get a pump of hand sanitizer. The sterile smell permeates the small space, and you feel your insides twist, hands clutching the seat of the stool tight.

“No, I just -” you pause, searching for the words while trying not to throw up in Sakusa’s studio. He might be warming up now, but you doubt he’d love that. “I don’t know.” You made me nervous doesn’t feel like a great explanation, not with the next thirty minutes of being in his personal space about to begin.

He studies you for a long moment before jerking his chin, motioning for you to stand. “First, you’re going to sit there -” he points to the soft, leather chair that takes up so much space in the little studio, “and you’re also going to calm down for a minute, because I will cancel this appointment for you if you get sick in here.”

“Knew it,” you mumble, mostly to yourself, as you pull yourself up onto the table, the material soft and smooth beneath your bare thighs. Your legs swing off of it and you feel so exposed, though you haven’t changed your position much; you press your thighs together anyway, keeping your hands in your lap as though to cover up.

“Knew what?” Sakusa is rummaging around in his desk drawer again, and you move your gaze to the designs on the far wall. It’s a delicate series of ocean waves and marine life, and the broad expanse of coral reef you’re looking at is a bit better than looking at any of the equipment.

“Knew you’d hate puke,” you say lightly, trying for nonchalance and managing only to sound like you’re being strangled from the inside out. “You have the vibe.”

“Are there people who like it?”

“I mean, everyone’s got their own thing -”

“No, stop. No talking about that in here.”

You clamp your mouth shut, and don’t move a muscle until you feel something fuzzy on the back of your hand. When you look down, startled, a palm-sized ferret plush is sitting next to your hand on the table.

“What the fuck is that?”

Sakusa is glaring when you look back up at him, but there’s no real venom to it, so you only notice how the scowl makes his eyelashes stand out more, soft and shadowed beneath his pinched brow. Well, fuck.

“I’m not the best at - at being . . .”

“Nice?” You supply helpfully.

“. . . Comforting.” He purses his lips, and you try not to pay too much attention to them. “Bokuto got him for me to use when I started, so that he can make people feel better when I . . . don’t.”

“A ferret?” You ask, prying your fingers from the hem of your skirt to pick the critter up, holding him carefully in your lap.

“A weasel, actually,” Sakusa says, still scowling. “His name is Itachi.”

“Why does his tag say Omi-Omi, then?” You ask, pinching the fabric between your fingers and squinting at the messy handwriting.

“Because Atsumu fucking sucks.”

It surprises a laugh out of you, though a bit shaky, and Sakusa’s scowl eases back into that glimmering, knowing look, not quite a smile but on its way there. You press the weasel against your stomach, hoping to relax the knots it’s tied itself into, and look to Sakusa for direction.

“So, before we do anything - you’re absolutely sure you aren’t gonna throw up?”

“Promise.”

“Good,” and you try so hard not to notice how nice that sounds in Sakusa’s low, quiet voice. God, what is wrong with you? At this point you’re sure Alisa will see right through you when she comes to pick you up and finds you this . . . unsettled. You squish Itachi a bit tighter to ground yourself. “Then I’m going to ask you where you want this thing.” He holds up a piece of paper, Shoyou’s design splashed across it.

You tap your inner bicep, just above your elbow, and this time Sakusa manages a lopsided smile.

“Did you do your research for the least intense places to get one?”

Face burning, you give him an embarrassed nod, though you can’t tell if the problem is him catching you out so easily or the appearance of the very first smile you’ve ever seen Sakusa Kiyoomi wear.

“I like to be prepared,” you add with a huff, and he only seems to fight off another smile while tugging on a pair of black nitrile gloves.

“I’m sure you do.” And why the fuck does that line make your face even warmer? “Here - is it alright if I touch you?”

The gloves are smooth and impersonal as he guides your arm out, positioning it at a good clear angle to work on, and the disinfectant he sprays on the spot is cold enough to make you jump.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and you try to shrug it off without moving your arm too much. Your stomach is starting to feel wobbly again, and it gives a sudden lurch when Sakusa tugs his work trolley closer to him and pins Shoyou’s design to the side of it for reference, his fingertips starting to skim over the spread of inks available.

“You’re shaking, by the way,” he says, selecting a jet black ink that you can’t tell the difference from the others, rolling the glass between his fingers as he looks up at you from his seat. “You promised you wouldn’t throw up.”

“And I’m keeping my promise,” you grit out, nearly strangling Itachi in your iron grasp. “I’m not gonna throw up.”

“Even if I believed that - which I don’t know that I do,” you manage a scowl, though it’s aimed at the floor, “- I can’t exactly do my job on someone who’s shaking like a leaf.”

“I’m not,” you argue.

Sakusa slowly lifts your hand, and you both watch a shiver run through it. His hand is warm even through the glove, his grip soft on your inner wrist. Your face pinches in defeat and Sakusa just lets out a small sigh through his nose.

“Look, I don’t really do these kinds of appointments.”

“These kinds?” You echo, tilting your head in confusion, before you slowly nod. “Right, you’re part of the back of house escort service, I forgot. Would it be better if I undressed a little? Make you more comfortable?”

The baby pink flush this gives Sakusa is so stark of a change that it startles you, and you think the joke was worth your own burning embarrassment at making it. He clears his throat, brow furrowed, but you can clearly see the blush that warms his cheeks, and the uncertain twitch of his mouth, like his brain can’t decide whether to smile or frown.

“If you’re done interrupting me,” he says, “I meant nervous clients. Meian knows not to bother booking them with me, because it’s - well, it hasn’t gone that well in the past.”

And you already know this. Shouyo has explained his coworker’s early mishaps while starting at Black Jackal, including the delightful incident where someone did puke in Sakusa’s studio and he had to send them off to Bokuto while he cleaned it top to bottom. His reputation is exactly why Shouyo’s news sent you into a panic: his image in your mind was a looming, scowling asshole who barely spoke two words to you at every visit you’d ever paid your best friend at work (which was too many to count, thanks to Shouyo’s insistence on forgetting things at home.)

“I’ve heard,” is all you say, and Sakusa’s lips purse. He probably knows exactly what you’ve heard.

“I don’t know how to . . . make people calm down.” He releases your hand and it drops back down to the worn leather; the absence of his touch is cold, and you miss it immediately. “And I’m guessing me just telling you not to freak out hasn’t been helping?”

“How did you know?” You ask, voice flattened by the weight of your sarcasm. Sakusa manages another of his ghost smiles, but it fades from his eyes as he takes you in again. From the way he’s watching you, you must look as terrible as you feel right now.

“Look,” you start, steadying yourself with a small, uneven breath. “I want this tattoo, you don’t want to cancel this appointment, so it seems like the best thing is for us to just - just commit to the bit, you know? So just distract me and it’ll be fine.”

“Distract you?” This suggestion seems to strike Sakusa like an electric charge, jolting him into another startling blush, brow furrowed in frustration. “With what?”

You swallow a nervous laugh, eyeing his panic like a house cat eyes their pretend prey, and say, “You could take your shirt off or something,” because you’ve completely lost your mind and you want to draw that blush out of him as much as you can. It might be the only distraction you need.

Sakusa’s face goes bubblegum pink, from his forehead to his - remarkably sharp and pretty - jawline, and something about it makes his eyes even more piercing. He just stares at you as you cackle, your nerves making the laughter bubble up in your stomach like a shaken bottle of sparkling wine.

“I’m kidding, I swear,” you laugh, face warm and insides fizzing with a wild cocktail of anxiety and helpless endearment. “You can just, you know, talk at me or something. That’s usually how I get through shots and stuff.”

“Oh? This is a recurring issue?” Sakusa is still a little pink as he reaches for his supplies, but reaches out a gloved hand and gently turns your head to face the opposite wall when you look over. “Don’t look, idiot, just stare at the art or something.”

“Okay,” you nod, a bit breathless even when he finally releases your jaw. You train your gaze on the wave designs you noticed earlier, the detailed strokes a good visual distraction. “Yeah, I don’t like needles, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Sakusa echoes, voice flat. You’re trying to picture his expression, and when you chance a glance you see you nailed it: the scowl and single quirked eyebrow combo he’s used three different times on you today.

“Yeah, obviously. I know it’s not uncommon, but it’s still, like, embarrassing, you know?” Your fingers twist into Itachi the Weasel’s soft fur. “It’s like a little kid phobia.”

Sakusa just hums, barely audible, as he wipes a cold towelette across your inner arm, and you suppress a shiver.

“It’s not that embarrassing,” he says finally, though his words are a bit distant, out of focus, as he concentrates on whatever he’s rifling around with on his cart of supplies. They clink gently as he works, the only sound in the room aside from his quiet murmurs. “You’re doing pretty well. I appreciate that you still haven’t puked.”

“And I’m not going to,” you insist, pulling a quiet laugh from him.

“I would hope not.” His gloved hands are back on your arm, repositioning you slightly and then tracing something cool and soft along the skin. When you look down, he’s outlining the design; his movements are so delicate it’s as if he’s pushed all the concentration in his body to his hand. “Not when I’m being so nice, anyway. Now,” he reaches up with his free hand, tilts your chin up and guides your gaze back to the wall of art, “stop looking.”

You laugh, your stomach fluttering. “But what if you do it bad? I need to see the tracing!”

When Sakusa’s hand stills for a long moment and he goes quiet, you risk a look back down and see him glaring up at you, though his mouth is twisting away from a smile.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard,” he says quietly, leaning ever so slightly closer to you, coaxing you to lean forward and meet him, “but I’m really fucking good at what I do.”

And you don’t mean to say it, you really don’t, but the muttered, “Oh, I bet you are,” just slips out. Sakusa really walked into it, if you think about it.

And he responds with another deep pink blush, giving a slight cough as he leans back, eyes now glued to your arm as he reaches to continue the design. He nudges your chin up again with his knuckles before he gets back to work.

The studio is quiet after that, the pair of you letting the tension brew as Sakusa finishes the small tracing and starts sifting through his supplies again.

“Okay,” he breaks the silence, and there’s a note of concern that wasn’t in his voice before. “I’m going to get started now, but I think you should take a second to breathe. If you start hyperventilating,” he adds sternly, “I will not do this tattoo.”

“I won’t hyperventilate,” you assure him, sounding much more confident than your shaky lungs feel.

“You’ll be fine,” Sakusa concludes, and he seems to realize how much of a non-comfort this is, because he knocks his elbow against Itachi, where he’s pressed to your stomach. “Remember to squeeze the living shit out of him, alright? He won’t mind - I think.”

It’s only when that gets a smile out of you that Sakusa continues, and your head turns instinctively when he lifts something from the cart.

“Eyes on the wall,” he says without even looking up at you, fiddling with the tattoo gun in his hands. You obey, eyes shooting back to the wave designs, trying to trace the patterns instead of thinking about any impending stabbing. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” and it comes out as more exhale than speech, but you are managing to get your breathing under control.

“I’m going to turn it on now, but -”

The moment the mechanism buzzes to life, you flinch so hard that you almost drop Itachi, and Sakusa gives a little sigh through his nose.

“- I won’t use it yet, because I figured you’d do that.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you mutter, struggling to put up a teasing glare so he knows you’re joking. Sakusa’s dark eyes are narrowed in thought when you look over at him, averting your eyes from the tattoo gun in his hands.

“Are you done shaking now?” His fingertips graze your inner wrist, glancing down to study your arm like he’s looking for more tremors. “Because I genuinely can’t do this if you’re moving around, you know.”

“I know,” you say, a bit breathless at the contact as Sakusa’s hand travels up to rest on the crook of your elbow, steadying your arm. He’s still not looking at you, but you think he can probably feel your eyes on him. “. . . It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“The design is small, so it won’t take too long.” He presses on the skin of your inner bicep, shoulders hunching as he moves to get started. “Just say something if you need to take a break.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “And you say you’re bad with nervous clients.”

A beat of silence, broken by Sakusa clearing his throat. “Just repeating the stuff Bokuto always says.”

You give a sharp gasp when the needle finally touches your skin, the sting sudden and swift, and Sakusa doesn’t look up from where he’s carefully inking your skin when he says, “Yeah, it’s not pleasant.”

“I mean, I figured, but what the hell!” You hiss, face scrunching in displeasure. You suppress a shudder that tries to run through your body as he lifts the needle and then returns it to your skin.

“Eyes on the wall, Y/N,” he says, and your gaze moves before you realize you’re following his direction. When had you looked back down at him? “You don’t wanna watch me stab you.”

“I said I was sorry about that,” you mutter, and Sakusa just exhales the ghost of a laugh as he continues.

It’s not unbearable, the pain small but constant, and you focus on the feeling of Sakusa’s hands on you to distract yourself - whether this is really a good plan has yet to be decided. At least it steadies you, his grip sure as he works, and you wonder for a split second how this would be going with someone like Shouyo. You’ve seen your best friend give tattoos before, but the feeling of his distractible, fluttering hands on your arm seems like miles away from the solid reassurance in Sakusa’s hands. There’s something about his concentration, the small pinch returning to his brow whenever you flicker your gaze to him, and the warmth of his broad hands that has your stomach fluttering while your pounding heart eases slightly.

Maybe this mishap wasn’t the worst possible outcome.

“Nearly halfway,” Sakusa murmurs, and you catch it in surprise just over the buzz of the machine.

“Already?” You’re so focused on the feeling of Sakusa holding you that you didn’t even notice ten minutes flick by.

“Yeah, I told you, a design like this won’t take long.” His hand slides down your arm a bit, holding your inner forearm in place, and his fingers curl around you almost reflexively. You resist the urge to look down as hard as you can, and find yourself outright glaring at the ocean scenes on the opposite wall. “You’re doing really well.”

And now you’re glaring and flushing, the praise going straight to your hammering heart while you fight the warmth in your face and the twist and turn of your insides as you study his work. The brushstrokes of that middle scene, a huge tidal wave in a myriad of blues and grays and teals, are so delicate that it’s hard for you to pick them apart from across the tiny studio, and you think you want to see Sakusa’s hands do something that delicate. It’s only fair, if you can’t look at him as he so carefully and gently marks your arm when you want to chance a glance so badly.

“Nearly there,” he says, unreadable as he lifts the needle from your skin, adjusting your arm’s position slightly. “Need a moment?”

“I -“ You’re not sure if the break is really what you want: your plan was to just get the whole thing over with as quickly as possible, and now your torment is drawing to an end. But your brain is going hazy with Sakusa’s hands on you, and you want to ease into that feeling for a little longer. “. . . Sure, just for a second.”

“How about ten?” You hear him laugh, the sound low and warm. “And you know you can look wherever you want now, right?”

Your gaze darts down to meet his, and you catch the tail end of his smile before it sinks below the surface again, just the remnants of it left glimmering in his eyes.

“You wanna look, or wait until I’m finished?”

And Sakusa huffs out a laugh because he sees that you’re already sneaking a peek at your half-finished tattoo, the skin around it irritated but the inked lines and curls so entrancing that you want to touch them. Sakusa holds your hand back, placing it over Itachi where you had sat him down next to you on the table.

“You like it?” The permanent intensity of his gaze makes the question feel like you’re being interrogated, but you just smile.

“Yeah.” You glance back at the design, studying the parts of it that still need to be filled in. “How much longer, do you think?”

“If we keep going right now, I can probably get you out of here by three,” and you swallow your disappointment. Twenty minutes did not give you a lot of time to crack open more of Sakusa’s shell.

“Alright.”

He gets back to work and the studio falls quiet, save for the steady buzz of the gun and the creak of the table each time you shift your legs around. Sakusa’s silence is so complete that you find your gaze wandering down to him, despite your promises to keep your eyes away from the procedure at hand, and you study the crinkle in his forehead as he focuses, the curl that strays between his eyes. He pauses to brush that curl back into place, and the movement is hypnotizing; you can’t stop watching how smooth his motions are, every one deliberate and careful. When he does so his eyes slide over to meet yours, and you sink so deep into his gaze that you can’t even try and pretend like you weren’t staring.

“Almost done,” he says; his thumb traces the edges of the design, and the smallest sting is left behind on the irritated skin, a mark of his touch. You just nod, your brain moving honey-slow as you watch him.

“You’re doing fine,” he remarks, head cast down as he finishes his work. “Not nervous anymore?”

“No, I am,” you reply, a bit breathless, “but I’m - you’re - it’s not that bad.” The words clatter their way out of you, awkward and uncertain in your mesmerized haze. His hair catches the studio lights and the curls remind you of the brushstrokes in his art, each rivulet of the tidal wave rendered with individual care, smooth and inviting. You clench Itachi a bit tighter, keeping your hand where it is.

Sakusa breathes something like a laugh and a sigh, lifting the needle from your skin for the last time. “Well, good, because you’re done. Told you it wouldn’t take too long.”

He putters about his equipment for a moment, putting things back in their places, and you study his movements as your hand frees Itachi (much to his relief, you’re sure) and reaches for the stinging patch of skin on your inner arm.

“Don’t touch it,” Sakusa warns, barely glancing at you from where he’s slathering on another round of hand sanitizer. “Unless you want it to get infected.”

“No, I’m okay, actually.” Your hand drops into your lap as you wait for him to return, legs swinging with your nerves as he finally meets your eyes.

“You didn’t puke.” Sakusa is giving you that barely-there smile again, and you swear you see the beginnings of a dimple on his right cheek. The urge to run your hands through his curls only grows with this observation, which you really wish it wouldn’t, because talking to him is only getting harder.

“I didn’t.”

“Thank you for that,” he says, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves and motioning for your arm. “Hold your arm out straight for me.”

Warmth creeps up your throat as you do as asked, and Sakusa’s hands are warmer this time when he uses a cotton round to spread a thick layer of ointment onto the design. It shimmers in the light, and you turn your arm slightly to examine his work.

“I’d ask if it looks okay, but it’s a little late for that.”

“Maybe you should’ve let me look, then,” you try to glare up at him as he crowds into your space a bit, gently laying plastic wrap over the area. You can feel the warmth of him this close, and catch a note of his clean, summery scent, like one of those sweet-scented dryer sheets. “So I could tell you before it’s too late.”

“You would’ve freaked out. Besides, it definitely looks okay. I told you, I’m pretty good at this.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you manage to roll your eyes, despite the flips your stomach is doing even as he backs away. He retreats to his desk to shuffle through the contents of a cramped drawer, and you watch the broad line of his shoulders stoop as he bends over the drawer. You feel the need to get ahold of yourself, but it’s a distant concern when your head is this floaty.

“Alright,” and when Sakusa turns back around, folded papers in hand and firm expression fixed on you, you let that concern fizz out entirely, “you’re finished. These are aftercare instructions.” He passes you the papers and waits for you to carefully tuck them into your purse. “Follow them - don’t skip steps or rush the healing process. Understand?”

“Got it,” you salute, warmth fluttering through you at his low tone. “I can follow instructions.”

Sakusa just nods, mouth flattened as you gently slide off the leather seat. “I’m sure you can, so I expect you to. I want to see that healed properly the next time you come to see Hinata.”

“So you’ll actually come say hi, instead of hiding back here?”

He quirks a brow and you squirm under his questioning gaze, embarrassment flooding you. Was that too obvious?

“. . . We’ll see. Depends on if you still want to see me after this.” Usually people don’t. The implication hangs between you both, and you yank it aside like you’re letting in fresh air.

“Well, maybe I do. Is that a problem? Gonna ruin your street cred?”

“I think you’re going to obliterate it, honestly.”

“You don’t sound opposed.” And that’s as much a question as it is a jibe; you stand prone in his little studio, waiting for Sakusa to stack up his many walls once more, back where they stood before you followed him into his sanctuary.

But he just stares back at you, the corner of his lips twitching as his gaze moves from your face to your new tattoo and back again. “Maybe I’m not.”

A knock at the door startles you out of the fuzzy, warm headspace you’ve sunk so deep into, and both of your heads whip to look at Shouyo, whose fluff of ginger hair is peering around the open door as he looks back at you both.

“Are you done already? My client’s just taking a break now, and I wanted to come check in . . .”

Taking a step away from Sakusa - when had you drifted so close to him? - you flash Shouyo a thumbs up and a wane smile. “Totally done! Completely finished!”

“Awesome!”

It’s quiet as you all head back to the front desk so you can pay, Shouyo seemingly oblivious to the tension brewing between every word you direct at him instead of Sakusa. You leave Black Jackal with a new tattoo and the feeling of Sakusa Kiyoomi’s eyes on your back as you step out the door, finding Alisa already waiting for you, leaning against the passenger door of her parked car.

“Hey! Lemme see, I bet it’s so cute . . . what’s wrong with you?” She squints at you, hands still on your arm to see the tattoo, and you shrug.

“Nothing, I’m all good.”

“So you didn’t freak out?” Alisa asks, pulling you along to the car. “No hyperventilating?”

“No,” you shake your head, sliding into the passenger seat. “I . . . I might go back, get another one. I’m not sure yet.”

“Wow.” Alisa gives you a once-over when she gets into the driver’s seat, turning on the ignition but not taking her eyes off of you. You don’t look over to see if she’s suspicious - you already know her too well for that. “It must’ve gone really well.”

“Yeah.” You nod slowly, fingers twisting in your lap. “It did.”

“So Hinata’s actually good at his job?”

“I, um - actually -” You fumble with your words, the last hour crashing through your brain at hyperspeed; there’s no turn of phrase that feels appropriate, not with the bright, too-hot feeling bubbling up inside of you, coaxing a wavering little smile out of you. “Shouyo couldn’t, um, actually he didn’t do it.”

“Oh?” Alisa pauses before pulling onto the road, her acrylics tapping thoughtfully on the steering wheel before she lets out an obnoxious, dramatic gasp. “Oh! Oh my god, wait, who?”

“Shut up,” you say instead of answering, burying your warm face in your hands.

“No way,” she argues, and you feel the car start moving, thank god. Soon you can be embarrassed in peace. “No way, you - it wasn’t Miya, was it? Please tell me it wasn’t.”

“No! No, it wasn’t - it actually was Miya’s fault that Shouyo couldn’t do it, so - I mean, um - it was . . . you know Sakusa?” His name trips off of your tongue, pretty and hushed, and the phantom feel of his hands on your skin makes you shiver.

When you finally look up at Alisa, she’s staring at you in mingled disbelief and delight. “No fucking way.”

“I’ll literally hop out of this moving car, right fucking now.”

“I didn’t say anything! I just - no way. No fucking way.”

“Yeah.” You murmur, head tipped back against the headrest, trying not to picture that almost-smile glimmering in his sharp gaze. “No way.”

#sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu

89 notes · View notes

xdacted · 8 months

Text

The wind chimes we hear

Paring: Charles Leclerc x Sister! Reader

Warnings: fluff, family fluff, family angst, family feels

Word Count: 2,760

Status: Completed (part of a mini-series)

* A Request*

There was the green field, littered with dandelions and daisies swaying in the wind. Sunlight drenched the stems, rolling over the grass, kissing my skin. The twinkle of our grandmother’s windchimes, clinking together. The scent of the sea, the taste of salt dancing high above the air.

I could hear my brothers laughing, pushing each other, shoving the other into the dirt. The sound of our mother scolding them, my father’s bellowing laughter. They called my name, pulling at my hands. They didn’t understand why I was so small, why I couldn't run like them.

I didn’t get it either.

They call my name again.

It sounds fainter.

The sun goes cold, and the grass stops dancing. My father’s face distorts, fading into nothingness.

“Ma’am?”

There’s a hand on my shoulder, gently pushing me. My eyes blink open.

There’s a woman smiling down at me, her red lips showing a dazzling set of pearly white teeth, “We’ll be landing soon.”

I nod, trying to suppress the yawn that grows in my chest. My headphones have slipped to my temple, and with a groan, I push them back. The cabin light is far too bright, I pull my hood further over my head.

What a strange dream.

We spent the entire summer with my grandmother. We ran around her spacious backyard, and we loved it. Sitting around her stained glass table, staring up at the colors as they shimmered in the light of morning. We were kids then.

The city is nothing more than a spec outside the window. Surrounded by the glimmering sea, clouds making it seem impossibly far. Home.

__________

Catching a car was more difficult than I expected. Normally, my mother was more than happy to pick me up - or she would’ve sent one of my brothers - but we were all coming in at different times. I didn’t want to burden her.

Summer break was a glorious time. I always managed to snag a few days free of practice, I would always dread going back, but I would never sacrifice it for anything. My brothers were always happy to be home, hiding out at our mother’s house before telling anyone they were home.

Our lives pulled us in different directions, but we always found our way home when Monaco came calling. I looked out onto the streets, cars buzzing past, and people bustling on the streets. This country bore us, we loved it. We would always come back.

The car ride is short and before I know it, I’m standing at the steps of our home. The door swings open before I can knock, my brothers staring back down at me, pulling me into the waiting house.

They wrap me in a hug, their arms tight around me. I breathe them in. The house around us seems to breathe with me. With all four of us between its walls, I feel the anxiety in my stomach uncoil. I hadn’t realized how much I missed them. Emotion is tight in my throat but I force it down.

I would never hear the end of it if I cried.

“Little Miss Champion,” Lorenzo brings a hand down on my hair, ruffling it.

I whine, pushing his hand away, “Lo! My hair…”

He chuckles, “I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t sound sorry at all. I smile. This easy batter has been missing, we’ve been missing. Being here with them feels like coming back to myself. I can hear the windchimes again.

“Good flight?” I nod, sliding my backpack from my shoulders, but Arthur is already taking it from me.

I don’t bother protesting, following them into the house. Charles pulls my suitcase behind him, parking it at the threshold of the kitchen. They let me walk in first, and when I do, my mother is standing there.

I nearly crushed her in a hug, burying my face into her blonde hair. She presses a kiss to the side of my face, brushing my hair back, “What is this love, hm?”

I can’t help the laughter that leaves me. She smells like honey and lavender, her hair soft against my temples. I don’t ever want to break away. Her hands soothe down my back, tucking themselves under my hoodie.

“I missed you,” I whisper.

It’s faint enough to die in the air, but she lets out a little giggle.

“I missed you too, my beautiful girl.”

I curl tighter around her.

Being away hurts. It hurt to know that she was here alone, in this empty house. It hurt to hear the excitement in her voice when I called. It hurt to have her hold me knowing I’ll leave in a few days.

“Mum -”

“I love you so much,” She beats me to it. She pulls away from me, her warm smile making my heart full.

“That’s not fair,” I nearly whine.

She just shrugs, but the smile never leaves her.

“Alright! Enough already,” Arthur claps his hands on my back, “We’re hungry!”

“Yeah,” Charles says, sliding his arm around Mum’s shoulders, “You took forever.”

I roll my eyes and pinch at Arthur’s sides, “Shut your face.”

__________

Dinner is an easy affair.

I don’t bother asking where Carla, Charlotte, or Alex are. The first day is always just for us.

“So what regiment have they got you on now?”

Lorenzo gestures to my plate, it’s mostly green. I promised my trainer I’d take it easy, but with my mother’s cooking, a promise meant nothing. I shrug.

“Nothing,” He snorts, “I mean it!”

“So why no pasta?” Arthur stuffs another forkful into his mouth, our mother scolding him under her breath.

“Planes always mess with my appetite,” I reach for the pitcher of water, “Tomorrow I’ll eat more.”

The conversation is plain, but it’s wonderful. To just be here with them, talking about nothing. We laugh and joke, the house seems to burn with energy. Soon, the food is gone and we race from the table.

Mum captures Lorenzo as he tries to sneak past her, she pulls him to do the dishes with her.

“What a loser,” Arthur mutters, plopping down on the couch. He goes to reach for the remote, but I snatch it first.

“Hey!”

I wave him away, “You’ve been here all day. I just got here.”

“Exactly,” He doesn’t make another move to it, leaning his face into the palm of his hand, elbow propped on the arm of the couch, “It’s only respectable.”

“I know you’re not talking about ‘respectable’.”

I lose myself in surfing the channels, clicking through news broadcasts and show reruns. There’s never anything good at this time, but I always look anyway. A cartoon’s theme song rings through the house and I let out a small laugh.

As children, we would all pile into the kitchen and watch it before school. It would run right when our mother would coral us to the door, tugging on Arthur because he always wanted to see it end.

I’m lost in my thoughts when Charles’ voice rings out.

“Who’s that?”

Charles and Arthur leaned over my phone, tapping at the screen. I hadn’t even noticed Arthur moving. It lights up to the picture of me and my boyfriend. My arm slung around his shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss.

Shit.

“No one -”

Before I can snatch it back, they’re pulling it away from me. There’s a look on Aruthur's face, eyebrows pulled into a tight furrow. I can feel the anxiety coil in my stomach. I wasn’t ashamed, I just wasn’t ready.

“No one?” Charles frowns at me, eyes darting to the phone in his hand, “This? This is no one?”

My face grew hot. Why did it always have to be this way?

Arthur scratched the side of his face, “Really? Who is this guy?”

“No one,” I sigh.

I reach for my phone again, but Charles jumps back. He tucks the phone into his pocket, holding a hand up to my chest. I let out a groan.

“Charles, please -”

“If he is ‘no one’,” I can already hear the question, I roll my eyes, “Why not tell us who he is?”

“Because I am a grown woman with my own business,” I thank the heavens I decided to leave him in France, “Now, give me my phone.”

“Tell us who he is.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

I almost screamed. My face is red, and I can feel the tears prick in my eyes. It was always like this.

I can see Lorenzo enter the room out of the corner of my eye. He takes in my state - arms crossed over my chest, cheeks red, pinched expression - and lets out a bark of laughter.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, holding his hands out in defense.

“Hey! I haven’t done anything.”

The apology is on my lips, but Charles and Arthur beat me to it.

“She has some secret boyfriend,” They flash my phone at him. I am mortified.

“A secret boyfriend?” He steps closer to the phone, and he moves closer to the screen, eyes squinting as he inspects my boyfriend's face. He makes a look of disgust.

“Really?”

This wasn’t fair. They were judging someone they hadn't even met. I have never, ever, judged one of their girlfriends. The many that passed by, I have never once held any hatred towards them. But they hated my boyfriend simply because he loved me.

It was so stupid.

“Why this guy?” Lorenzo turns to me, Charles and Arthur voicing their agreement, “Really? You shouldn’t be -”

“I am not a baby!” I can feel the tears, my voice going thick with emotion, “I am a grown woman. I can live my own life. I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not five years old anymore!”

They stare at me, mouths agape. As soon as my words leave me I want to take them back. I can see the regret crawl across Charles’ face, but I can’t take it. I snatch my phone from his hand and run out of the room.

I hear them call my name, and even feel as Lorenzo tries to grab my arm, but I push him away.

I stomp upstairs, slamming the door behind me.

__________

When I stop, my lungs burn. I’m wheezing out into the air. My heart is thundering within my chest. I can feel the embarrassment pool in my gut.

It didn’t matter how many trophies or world titles I won. It would never matter. They only saw me as their little sister. I had been in their shadows for years, watching as they stepped into the light. The world loved them, the world adored them.

Couldn’t I have this one thing?

Couldn’t I have someone to love me?

I pick at the hem of my shirt. I’m being selfish. They didn’t mean anything by it, it was just careless teasing. But to me - I dared to look at my phone, my boyfriend's beautiful smile staring back at me - it wasn’t careless. I bite on my lip, pulling at the skin.

My room is just as it always was. The walls are littered with pictures, posters lining the sides of my bed. I filled it to the brim, you could hardly see the wallpaper beneath. On my dresser, there are the trinkets I left behind. Seashells and paddock passes. I can feel the emotion welling in my throat again.

This was more than just the teasing.

I push my back into the door. On the other side, I can hear my brother’s voice. They’re arguing, scolding one another, blaming the other for my outburst. But it wasn’t their fault.

So much was changing, we were growing and it frightened me. I side down the frame, pulling my knees into my chest. The tears come before I can stop them. I really was a baby.

I moved out two years ago. I wasn't far, but I wasn’t home. Charles moved out ages ago, and Lorenzo before him. Our leaving wasn’t new, but that didn’t change how strange it was. At first, it felt wrong. I threw myself into training, hours with my coach, and hours distracting myself. There was a reason I only came home a few times a year. It was always hard to leave.

Summer break was always my only exception. I stayed and it hurt.

I always wondered if they felt like this, but I never had the nerve to ask. I was afraid they’d laugh in my face, afraid they would call me a kid. Being away seemed so easy for them, racing across the world. Different cities, different countries, different time zones.

It didn’t look difficult for them at all.

Meanwhile, I cried at my first international competition. It was only for three days, but I called home every night.

I rest my chin on my knees, blowing out a sigh.

My tears have subsided into sniffles. The ridiculousness makes my face burn again. I can almost laugh, but before I can push myself off the floor I hear their footsteps come up the stairs. They try to speak in hushed whispers, but I can hear everything anyway.

“Move, this is your fault!”

“Mine?! You made her upset!”

“Shut up, both of you!”

I almost laugh, covering my mouth just in time to stifle it. I can hear them stop at my door. There’s a long moment of silence, I can feel their hesitation. I look up at the doorknob, the dying sunlight spilling in through my blinds.

There’s a tentative knock. I say nothing.

Charles calls my name.

I say nothing.

It’s evil, but it makes me crack a smile.

Another knock rings through the room, louder this time, “Stop being mad at us…”

I can hear Charles and Lorenzo smack Arthur on the head.

“OW!”

“You’re so stupid.”

Lorenzo tries this time, but his voice is soft, “We’re sorry. We didn’t mean to make you upset, will you open the door?”

I rise to my feet but just stare at the door.

“Please?”

With a roll of my eyes, I turn it open. It reveals the apologetic look on their faces.

“We’re sorry,” They say, nearly in unison. I can’t help but laugh.

When we were kids and got into fights our father made us apologize together, we’d have to redo it if we weren’t.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur starts, looking up at me, fiddling with his hands, “We shouldn’t have looked at your phone.”

To his right, Charles nods, “It was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

I look at Lorenzo.

“What?” He holds his hands up, “I didn’t really do anything wrong -”

Charles jabs him in the ribs.

“Ah! I’m - I’m sorry,” He muttered, brown hair falling into his eyes as he doubled over, “I’m sorry.”

“I meant it,” My arms are tight, gripping onto my sweater, “I’m not a kid anymore.”

“We know,” Lorenzo pulled himself upright, “We know. It’s just…you’re our baby sister.”

“No one is ever going to be good enough for you.”

“Ok,” I mutter, “But he doesn't have to be good enough in your eyes. He’s my boyfriend. He’s good enough for me.”

They seem to think. The silence that passes over us is heavy, I can almost see the wheels turning.

Arthur is the first to speak, “Does he make you happy?”

I can’t help the shock that makes its way onto my face, “Yeah…he does.”

He shrugs, “Then that’s all I care about.”

I crack a smile, reaching over to grab his hand. He interlaces our fingers, giving me a quick squeeze. I can feel the unsaid, ‘I love you.’

Charles doesn’t say anything, he just moves forward, wrapping his arms around me, “I want you to be happy. That’s it.”

I let go of Arthur to hold his middle, “I know. I am.”

He lets me go with a sigh, pulling away with a smile. It’s bright and the one thing that hasn’t changed since our childhood. I hear the windchimes again.

Twinkling in the daylight.

Lorenzo hooks his arm around my neck with a sigh, “If it’s what you want, I guess it’s alright.”

I smack his arm.

He smiles too, pressing a kiss to my forehead, “I mean it.”

“I know.”

The anxiety clears. There’s still something unsaid between us, but it isn’t enough to ruin this moment. Our mother calls us from down the stairs.

“Have you made up yet?”

We dissolve into laughter.

“Yes, mum.”

_________________

A/N:This work has been cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. All are under the name XDACTED. Thank you for reading and feel free to request fics about any of the drivers <3

206 notes · View notes

keruimi · 27 days

Note

Can I request a fluff??? Kenma tutoring the reader since the reader is bad at studies?? And later they confess and all?? Thank you!!

Infatuation or Love?

Pairing: Kenma Kozume x Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Notes: I'm sorry if it took so long. I really know Kenma as an introvert so him agreeing on tutoring someone seems too impossible. But I thankfully manage, I just hope he is not that out of character. Hope you enjoy it!!

_____________________________

I sigh in relief after hearing the school bell and was ready to take my console out of my pocket when the teacher called for me.

I stay still from my seat thinking what will we talk about knowing I didn't even do anything wrong this week.

I decided to finally stand up and walk to her desk and saw she was checking something in her grading sheet so I just stood in front so we wouldn't invade each other's space.

But this is nerve wracking.

"Sensei?" I called out in a whisper to alarm her of my presence.

"Kenma, I'm sorry for what I'm about to request" she started as I bit my lip a little to distract myself.

"I know that you are really busy especially if you are a regular in the volleyball team" she started as I nod in understanding but still thinking where our conversation is heading.

"But I need you to tutor someone"

It felt like my brain stopped functioning on her words.

I hope, I wish, if you don't mind.

It seems like those words are not in her vocabulary.

Do I even have a choice in this?

"Sensei, don't we have other students for that?" I mustered up the courage to question her as I tightly grip on my gaming console.

I need time for myself too. Lev is already a heavy problem I'm trying to unload from my life.

"They have declined"

"Then why can't I?" I almost slap my hand on my mouth when it let out the words that shouldn't be stated.

"Well I thought you would agree since you and Y/n seem to be close compared to the other students I gave this request to"

My ears pick that one name.

"Y/n?"

"Yes Kenma" she answered.

"Game"

"Come again?" The teacher exclaims in puzzlement as I tried to supressed the growing blush on my cheeks.

That came out loud than what I intended.

"I mean I don't mind, Sensei" I murmur that lifted a small smile from the teacher in front of me.

"Alright then, here's her contacts. Both of you should talk about your schedules so you know when you will have tutor sessions"

She handed me a card before I bid my goodbyes and immediately went to the volleyball boy's changing room.

I peek inside and saw that everyone seems to be already in the gym so I changed to my practice clothes.

I took my phone and typed her number.

It took me a lot of courage to even send a greeting and need to double check my spelling so I won't look stupid.

I hope this is the 'Y/n' I knew well due to Kuroo's constant nagging.

I quickly turn off my phone when I click the send button and just started walking to the gym, trying to calm my heart down.

Kenma, this is not you.

I remind myself when I start to notice I'm getting work up in this set up.

"Kenma! You're late!" I heard Kuroo immediately as I took a deep breath because I can really feel my racing heart.

I am not even sure if it was really her.

"Hey you ok? You look lost?" Kuroo ask as he stop in front me so I just walk past him and just start warming up.

"You look red, did you run on your way here?"

"Shut up"

"I'm just asking! Who knows you might be experiencing heat stroke right now"

I just ignore his nagging and just let the time pass by but I can't deny that my mind was in the phone.

Silently yearning that she would message me back.

Just because of one tutor, I had the chance to spend time with her.

"Kenma right?" My ears perk up when I hear her soft voice amidst the crowded hallway of the school.

I glanced up from my gaming console and saw the girl I started to secretly admire out of nowhere.

I just know I liked her when my heartbeat went faster and felt my face turn warm.

This infatuation just decided to target me right now.

"You're the one I'm going to tutor, correct?" I ask in a whisper as she hums in agreement.

I started to walk towards the library and felt her follow me.

My nerves started to get more out of control from the silence between the two of us until we finally managed to take a seat in the school's library.

"Where do you want to start?" I decided to break the silence and hid my gaming console to focus but I can't deny how my hands tremble under the table.

I really don't like socialising.

I only agree because it was her. Seems like I screwed myself up.

But thinking of the bright side, I prefer here than the gym where I won't even have enough rest unlike here where I bask in the cool and calming surroundings of the library without anyone annoying me.

Extra credits because of her presence.

"Wherever you want to start with" she answered in a whisper and my heart seems to calm down.

Is she also shy?

I mean, I only see her in every match we play, except when it's outside of tokyo.

That's why she always catches my attention until it turns into infatuation.

Now I need to suffer with the quick heartbeats every time I hear her name.

I shook my head to remove the thoughts that keep distracting me as I put my bag down to the floor.

"Alright then, we'll start with the easiest"

I need to take the lead which I have never done my whole life but this is a girl I'm talking about.

A shy one to say the least so since I need to teach her, I need to take the lead no matter how much I hate it.

As long as it was her.

Yet those moments where I need to push myself out of the bubble, will be one of the memories I would be honor to remember.

Because our relationship started to progress until we finally become comfortable in each other's presence.

She became a part of my routine and in exchange of fighting against my anxiety, I get to know more about who she is.

The reason why her grades started to fail was because she was also a working student. She can't balance school requirements and her work.

But she is not that really hard to teach. I think I only need to repeat myself twice and she will understand the lesson we are tackling.

And right now, three weeks after this tutoring session, I'm starting to have the urge to just lean on her shoulder and rest because I'm really starting to get comfortable in her presence.

It feels like I don't even want this to end.

"Kenma, I finished it" I heard her beside me as I finished the round I started playing like 10 minutes ago as I stopped leaning on the chair to check the worksheet I gave her.

Is this still infatuation when I'm starting to put efforts for her own good?

I slid the paper in front of her as I leaned towards her so I can point out where she went wrong in the third equation.

"In this part, you need to use the exact value. The only thing you're going to estimate is the final answer. Alright?"

I heard her hum as I finally had the urge to look at her and saw her focus was already on me.

It felt like my world stopped at that moment.

I saw how her face started to turn a little red until a notification sound caught my attention that made me break our eye contact.

I immediately turned away my face from her to hide the obvious blush appearing on my cheeks.

I was really falling in love that time.

And the obvious glances as the time passed by started to get to me.

"Kenma?" I heard her call for my name after I finished a practice match that brought the focus of my teammates on me.

"Oh, you're here" I muttered before I permitted myself to leave while drying the sweat from my neck using my towel.

"What brought you here?"

I finally glanced at her and saw she was holding a small box. I also noticed her shifting her feet from time to time and I unknowingly smiled.

"Sensei said that my grades are already good. So you won't need to tutor me anymore"

She mumbled as I nod but I can't help the sadness I felt in my chest and I out my mouth in a firm line to avoid saying something I shouldn't.

"Is that so?" I lost my words as my mind blank knowing it might be our last before we become strangers again.

"Yes, so as a little gift for keeping up with me. I made you an apple pie"

"Apple pie?" She nod when I repeated her words before she handed me the pastry.

"I've heard from your teammates that Apple Pie is your favorite" I didn't fail to notice the small blush forming on her cheeks that really confirms to me that this feeling of mine is not one-sided.

"Thank you Y/n. It was nice being with you" I exclaimed as I took her gift from her.

"Would you mind prolonging our time more?" I suggested and she immediately lifted her head up in delight.

"Are you sure?" She asked as I nod.

I saw her clasping her hands together as she seems to think whether to let out the words she is thinking or just let it be.

"I like you, Y/n"

I admitted it first so it won't be more difficult for her and I saw how her eyes met mine.

"That's why I ask you if you would like to prolong our time longer" I can't prevent myself from lifting a small smile.

And out of nowhere, I felt her own body on mine as I raised the box so she won't crush it.

"I like you too, Kenma. I really do"

Can I still call this infatuation?

When I'm starting to fall in love

47 notes · View notes

prythianpages · 5 months

Text

Witch! Reader x Azriel | headcanons

Merry Christmas Eve and Happy Holidays! Here are just some headcanons of witch reader and Az🥰 It's my first time making one of these.

this is based off of my dandelion series. you can find the masterlist for it [here]

warnings: fluff, implied smut

Azriel shows up to your apartment to take you out on your first date and he's extremely nervous because he never thought he would get this far and he doesn't want to mess up.

You find it entirely endearing because you can sense that he's not the type to be nervous, even more so when you notice his hand is slightly sweaty in yours. You don't mind at all.

Azriel spends every night at your place and realizes he no longer needs your sleep potion. He only needs you in his arms.

The only time he doesn't stay over is when he's out on a mission.

He slowly starts to leave things here and there until he's completely moved in.

Your cat, which is named Binx hocus pocus referencelol, is excited to have a another living being in your home besides the big spider that lives in the corner of your sitting room that you were too nice to rehome when you first spotted it.

Az is at first startled by it but then you're telling him the spider's name is Pearl and the way you speak of it with such affection makes him smile and he accepts it wholeheartedly, even though he finds it slightly creepy, because he loves you

Binx loves Azriel and his shadows. A little bit too much because he initially mistakes the dark tendrils as a toy and accidentally scratches your mate's back in the process of chasing them.

It's all okay because it's nothing a little calendula and chamomile can't help fix. It also gives for the perfect excuse to have the feel of his mate's hands brushing and rubbing against his back

Despite your deep attraction for one another, you decide to wait to be intimate with one another until you're ready to accept the bond.

Even though Azriel makes it really hard for you when he takes you training with him and all you can do is watch as his sweat makes his bare chest glisten deliciously while he duels with Cassian.

He tries to teach you some self defense moves but you're often too distracted to listen, which makes Nesta laugh.

As the two of you get to know one another more, you find yourself falling more and more in love with Azriel.

He's sitting on your couch, sharpening his knives and you're seated on the floor in front of your coffee table immersed into your spell book.

Your hand glows as you beckon your magic to find a particular spell and as your eyes take in the words on the book, you find yourself turning to Azriel with a smile.

"I'm ready," you tell him and let out a squeal as he drops what he's doing to pull you into his arms and kiss you. He's too engrossed in the way your lips feel against his to notice the way you use your magic to bookmark the page you were on before closing it shut.

Azriel doesn't care what you make for him but you do. You want it to be special and when you suggest a midnight picnic in that field of dandelions on the night of a full moon which is strangely specific but he's too happy to question it, he grants you your wish

"Wait," you tell him before he's about to take a bite of the food you made just for him. "I have something for you."

You're holding out a gemstone to him. It's a rich tapestry of green that dances with life, releasing a radiance of emerald enchantment. It reminds him of the green glow of your magic.

but it's not just an emerald. It's a talisman. It's your heart and when you tell him, you can't help but giggle at the mix of emotions expressed on his face.

you explain to him that it's not your literal heart but it may as well be because that emerald is tethered to your heart and if he accepts it, your heart will be bound to him forever and some of your magic may transfer over to him.

A witch's heart is a precious and powerful thing. Azriel knows this because he's heard Amren mention it once.

Some men have died seeking for it, some men have even gone to war for it and you've heard the horrors of your fellow sisters losing their magic and in the worst cases dying because they were tricked into giving their hearts to undeserving men.

But you trust Azriel.

The mating bond that will bind you together was more than enough for him but there you are, willing to give your heart wholeheartedly to him and he accepts it, promising to keep it safe.

He only takes a couple of bites before he's prancing on you and you're protesting--"Hey! I spent all morning make that--oh!"

your protest dies at your throat and a moan slips out as you feel his heated touch on your skin and lips against your neck.

"I promise I'll make up for it," he breathes against your neck and he does.

He makes love to you in that field of dandelions under the full moon, binding the spell that tethers your heart to him and claiming you as his and only his.

Accepting the mating bond send you two into a frenzy, where you are overcome with an insatiable thirst for one another. Let's just say your apothecary shops remains closed for the following week and the inner circle knows to keep their distance (:

Azriel keeps the emerald you gave him in the chest pocket of his leathers because he wants to have you with him at all times.

When he's away on a mission and has to spend the night away from you, he'll pull it out. It glows under his touch, humming with your magic that tells him that you're thinking of him just as much as he's thinking of you.

Your first outing as a mated couple with the inner circle is at Rita's. Azriel doesn't want to go but you're so excited to spend time with Feyre and the others and he can't say no to you. you can read about that here

On your first anniversary, he brings you a bouquet of dandelions from the meadow and makes it a point to gift you one every year.

He happily joins you on your walks with natures, smiling as he listens to you go on and on about the beauty of it all. But he thinks the true beauty is you.

Even when your eyes darken as you call upon your magic, leaving no trace of white or color. it scares the crap out of Cas and Elain but Az is just always mesmerized by you and he'd be lying if he said it didn't turn him on sometimes.

When you're upset or frustrated, usually because you're stressed over a spell or a letter from one of the witch covens, Azriel is there to make your day better. "Oh, my sweet little wildflower." He kisses your worries away.

You do the same for him when he comes back from a hard mission and the exhaustion of being the Night Court's spymaster catches up to him, taking a toll on him.

His tense body always relaxes at your touch and when he asks if you could give him anything to help with his body aches, you mindlessly point to one of the vials on your kitchen counter.

You don't notice when he picks up the wrong one and when you finally do and realize that he accidentally took a drink from the aphrodisiac Nesta had requested from you, it's already too late.

Needless to say, it's probably the best mistake you've ever made (;

#azriel headcanons #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x witch!reader #azriel imagines #azriel fluff #az!dandelions

440 notes · View notes

white-poppie · 11 months

Note

Hi there!! big fan of your works..you still write for HxH right? If so can you maybe write hc's or a tiny scenario where reader is killua's older sister? Pure fluff really!! 💓 Thanks a bunch and even if you don't write for hxh anymore I hope you had a wonderful day and continue to have good days ahead of you!! :) Bye bye -anon

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 ⭒ killua zoldyck

A/N: I am so sorry for delaying this so much! I have been really busy these days, Ily Thank you so much for liking my work! I hope you have amazing days too, you are so sweet :(

Alright, so Killua isn't close to any of his family members except Alluka because she is nice and cares for him, we'll assume that you are similar to her in that way.

You've always been protective over Killua, secretly patching him up when your parents disciplined him which oftentimes ended cruelly for both of you, but sometimes they did take pity on both of you.

Your mother actually adored you, but you knew it was only because she always wanted a daughter, no more attachment than that.

I think Killua calls you by your name instead of adding a respect kinda suffix.

I hc that Killua is really sleepy around you because he trusts you so much, you run your nails on his scalp and he just 💤

I think Killua doesn't like eating with family except for you and Alluka because they must have poisoned his food in small doses to help him develop resistance to poisons, they must've done that to your food too, but he eats well around you ❤️‍🩹

When he was younger, Killua would collect tiny flowers for you and run to give them to you. He collected dandelions once, and ran to you like, "Y/N, flowers!" and you are like where are the flowers? He looks down and sees only the stem and starts crying :<

You made Killua's hair into those tiny pigtails that look like palm trees 🤧

Tries to teach you how to skate, gives up within a few hours

He is annoying let me tell you that. No affection in front of people. No headpats, no hugging, no forehead kisses nothing in public.

But when you guys are alone or around Alluka, he like hugging you...sometimes only okay?

Of Vengeance and Ashes” -> BUY NOW!!!! I am a 15-year-old author who needs support, I assure you it won't disappoint! It's okay if you don't buy, it would be enough to share the link with someone else who might be interested! I humbly request you support my career as a child author by purchasing my book. This would help me to write more books in future.

— HUNTER X HUNTER - Fanfictions

TAGS: @akumicchi, @denkis111, @jazzylove, @lordmypantsaresocool, @futuristicallykawaiiturtle, @kristaline2dmensimp, @rintaroubby @nanaseishiro @cleaningfairylevi, @buttercupspotify

﹒ Taglist (lmk in the comments in case you wanna be added and the link doesn't work!)

#killua x reader #killua hcs #killua headcanons #killua x platonic!reader #white poppie🌼#killua hxh #killua hunter x hunter #killua fluff #hunter x hunter #hxh fluff #hxh fanfic #hxh headcanons #hxh hcs #hxh

231 notes · View notes

fairyhaos · 11 months

Text

. ˚ like a supernova

requested by anon: "Hello!! Can I please ask for fluffy and soft and comforting DK? (I was reeling from Betelgeuse)"

pairing: photographer!dokyeom x gn!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, non-idolverse, kinda roadtrip?, the author is in love with the sky

word count: 1879

warnings: pet names (love, darling), kisses

notes: would recommend listening to dk's cover of betelgeuse while listening, along with txt's hydrangea love and ab6ix dandelion <3

summary: "do you want to go on a trip?" seokmin had asked, all soft and fond with lights twinkling in his eyes that afternoon, and there was no way you would have been able to refuse.

You roll down the window, poking your head out before abruptly reeling yourself in. The air is cold on your skin, raising goosebumps along your arms and making you shiver. Seokmin glances over at you, concerned, but you just smile, reaching over to interlace his fingers, palms and heart warm.

“How much longer?” is all you ask, and Seokmin smiles.

“Not much longer,” he murmurs, bringing your interlaced hands upwards to kiss your knuckles, before going back to looking at the road.

After a moment of staring at his side profile, soft and muffled in the dark, you do too.

"Do you want to go on a trip?" Seokmin had asked, all soft and fond with lights twinkling in his eyes that afternoon, and there was no way you would have been able to refuse.

It’s why you are where you are right now, in the car, on the road to somewhere, the sky velvet navy over your heads and yellow street lamps lighting your way, like some sort of glittering fairy trail.

Everything feels endless, like hours and hours are passing, or like it’s stopped, like the seconds ticking by on your watch have simply ceased to move anymore. You’re not entirely sure. The world is dimmed, and the air is so cold that you have to roll the window back up, but Seokmin’s hand is warm in yours, and that’s really all you need.

Seconds, or perhaps years, pass, before Seokmin eventually veers off the abandoned road, and you disappear into the trees.

“How much longer?” you ask again, and he looks over at you, sparkles in his eyes.

“Almost.”

And then you’re emerging out of the woods, and he smiles as your eyes widen.

The entire universe has opened up before you, the sky yawning and stretching contentedly, the land rolling leisurely for miles and miles. The longer you stare, the more there are little lights winking down at you, smiling as teasingly and adoringly as your boyfriend is smiling at you right now.

“Do you like it?” Seokmin asks, as if he’d been the one to painstakingly hang up all the stars in the sky for you to see, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning over to do the same for you.

You can’t answer, too busy staring up at the sky, barely even registering when Seokmin gets out of the car, walking over to your side and opening the door for you to get out. “It’s… it’s beautiful,” is all you can say, and Seokmin chuckles.

“Just like you.”

The sky continues to reveal itself to you, as Seokmin sets up his equipment, as you lean back in the fold-up chairs that he’d brought, as you breathe in the clean countryside air and marvel at the natural landscape before you.

Not a sound is uttered by the world, save for the ones you make yourself, with the creaking of chairs and the shutter of Seokmin’s camera and the sound of you both breathing. Your attention is captured by the stars, as if the stars are the photographer and your awe is the picture, being captured and held in their glittering embrace endlessly.

“Y/N, love?”

Seokmin smiles when you finally look at him, and his eyes are glittering too, mesmerising and warm. He has his camera in his hands, and gestures to the open field.

“Can I photograph you?”

The universe truly was showing you her best side tonight, the moon little more than a silver sliver in the sky, shy and gentle and beautiful, the entire sky nothing more than a gorgeously soft expanse of dark and rich fabric, little gold threads delicately sewn into it.

You look over at Seokmin, looking over to where he has his camera up to his eyes, before laughing, shy, and having to look away.

It’s dark, because of course it is—you’re out in the middle of the countryside, with no artificial light for miles—but Seokmin’s smile, even behind his camera, is radiant, like he’s kept part of the sun’s brightness in his smile, wonderful and golden and looking perfectly in place within the beauty of the universe surrounding you.

“Beautiful,” is all Seokmin says, and when he lowers the camera you can see his eyes too, eyes that have turned into crescents that still, still sparkle so warmly.

“I know,” you say, tilting your head up again. “They really are beautiful.”

He laughs: a soft, adoring sound that drifts and carries in the silent night air. “You really, really are.”

Seokmin carries on taking his photos, some for his clients, some for himself, and you sit there on the grass, watching him, watching the sky, watching the world slowly, slowly continue moving.

Eventually he flops down beside you, lying on his back, but the camera keeps making shuttering sounds as he continues to take pictures of the universe above you.

You lie down too, nudging your hand against his arm, and he makes a playful noise in annoyance.

“Just a couple more,” he says, the camera still on his eyes.

And then he takes it away, simply looking up at the sky without the camera filtering the images, and smiles. Seokmin looks over at you, eyes bright.

“Don't you think this is the best trip ever?” he asks, and you laugh.

“The best,” you agree, shuffling over to rest your head on his shoulder, him immediately putting an arm around you to pull you against him. “I didn’t know there were so many stars in the sky.”

“Me neither,” he says, fingers mindlessly trailing up and down your upper arm. “Hey, do you know any constellation names?”

You hum thoughtfully, adjusting yourself against him. “Sure I do.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” You point upwards at the sky, at a small cluster of stars. “Do you see that constellation there? The one with one star a little higher up to the right and two in a horizontal line under it?”

“Where?”

“There. Those three stars.”

“Oh!” Seokmin rests his palm, warm and gentle, against your skin. “Which one’s that?”

You lower your arm, grinning. “It’s called: ‘Junhui’s face moles’.”

Seokmin is silent for a long moment, before promptly pinching your arm, making you chuckle softly. “I really thought you knew constellations for a second there.”

“Of course I don’t.” You shift around in his arms to look up at him, tracing a light finger down his nose. “You’re the only and most beautiful constellation of stars that I know.”

He smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Well, it does to me.”

That makes him laugh, an endeared exhale, kissing your forehead again. “Well, actually, I know a couple of constellation names too.”

You quirk an eyebrow, amused. “You do?”

“Yeah.” It’s Seokmin’s turn to point upwards, a long finger tracing a shape of stars, outlining a cluster of them that look a little brighter than the others. “See that one?”

“Mhm?”

He looks at you. “What does that one look like?”

You tilt your head to the side, shuffling further into him. “Um. I don’t know.”

“It looks like two people hugging, duh,” he says, as if it was obvious, and you laugh. “It’s called the ‘you and me’ constellation.”

“The ‘you and me’ constellation?” you repeat, smiling, endeared by his adorable naming of constellations, taking his hand from where it’s still pointing to the sky and interlacing your fingers together and bringing them downwards to rest on his chest. “That’s cool.”

Seokmin nods, grinning. “Exactly. Anyone who looks at that constellation, if they resonate strongly with the constellation of two people hugging, can call it theirs. The ‘you and me’ constellation.”

“That’s very sweet.”

Silence descends once more. Seokmin taps the fingers of one hand against your arm, the other warm and secure in yours. The grass is cold, and definitely a little damp, but neither of you notice, too absorbed in the way the universe seems to be painting a beautiful landscape just for you.

You look up at Seokmin, who still has his eyes fixed on the sky. His mouth is slightly parted in wonder, eyes wide, side profile as beautiful as ever, and it makes you smile.

“Seokmin?”

Seokmin’s lips automatically lift into a smile at the sound of his name, and he looks down at you. “Yes, darling?”

“Did you know the closest red supergiant to Earth is called Betelgeuse?”

Seokmin’s eyebrows raise upwards, surprised. “I did. How did you know that?”

You grin. “Research.”

His face softens, laughing. “You searched it up while I was taking photographs, weren’t you?” He kisses you on the nose, lightly. “Betelgeuse is also one of the brightest stars in our sky. It’s going to become a supernova really soon.”

“Wait, really?”

Seokmin nods, looking back up at the sky. “It’s not even that old. But even so, the Earth will probably still be around to see it go supernova. It’ll become the brightest light in our sky for several days.”

“Wow.” You look around at the sky, trying to see if you can see which one is Betelgeuse, but they all twinkle even more, as if intentionally attempting to confuse you, so you give up. “It’s incredible, actually. Our Earth being able to exist at the same time as such a phenomenon.”

Seokmin smiles. “Like you and me.”

You blink. “The constellation?”

“What? No,” Seokmin chuckles, “not the constellation.” He squeezes your interlaced hands, once. “Like Seokmin and Y/N. The fact we found each other, were pulled towards each other, in this same lifetime. Under this sky.”

Seokmin looks at you, and his eyes are soft, soft with indescribable emotions, as beautiful and endless as the universe expanding above you. It makes you smile, heart melting, fragile and yet safe in his hands.

“I don’t think there will ever be a lifetime where we don’t find each other,” you say. “I promise. In fact, I’ll make sure of it.”

He grins, face positively glowing with love, and he really is the most beautiful constellation of stars you’ve ever seen. “Have I told you I love you?”

You laugh, lifting yourself upwards slightly to smile down at him. “Hmm, no, I don’t think you have.”

“In which case, I love you.”

His mouth is warm on yours, the kiss light and sweet. When you pull away, he’s still grinning and glowing and looking like the stars in human form.

“Say it again,” you say, and he smiles impossibly wider.

“I love you.”

It’s him that leans up to kiss you this time, a fluttery, silvery thing, and now you’re smiling too, the fingers of one hand still interlaced with his, the other cupping his face. You hum, pleased, and kiss him once more.

“I love you too.”

Far away, somewhere up in the stars that you can’t identify, there’s Betelgeuse, shining brightly down on you, light years away and never-ending. At least, in your lifetime. But that supergiant, that star, isn’t the biggest and most beautiful star you’ve ever seen.

Oh, no.

That title belongs to your boyfriend.

And under this same sky, when he shines, he’ll do it with you, holding your hand, kissing you gently and promising you the entire world.

In every lifetime, in every universe.

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @butiluvu

274 notes · View notes

shina913 · 9 months

Text

Dandelion | KNJ

Dandelion

Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: Infidelity!AU; exes!AU; angst; some fluff; smut

Warnings: cussing; sexually suggestive language; clit play; protected sex; questionable morals; open conversation about infidelity; hurt without comfort

Word count: 4.8K words

Summary: You and Namjoon reunite to celebrate a special evening.

A/N: If you don't like reading about cheaters - please feel free to skip! Thank you, Sim @roaminginthenights for your notes. They added more depth and nuance to the story in so many words. Thank you @midnightagust for looking this over as well and helping me simplify and improve some of the wording. I appreciate you both!

You’re sitting in the airport parking lot, tapping your fingers happily to the beat of the song playing on your car radio. You glance at the time, it wouldn’t be too long; he’d be walking out of those doors soon. Until then, you continue to hum to the song.

Tonight is special. A night you didn’t think you’d ever celebrate again. Yet here you were, in a rental car, in a town you’d left years before.

Other than one particular overnight reservation, there are no other formal plans. You’d order takeout and perhaps pick up a bottle of wine or two from the corner store.

Your phone rings. You bring it up to check the caller ID and smile when you recognize the name flashing on the screen.

“Hi, honey!”

“Hi mom,” your daughter greets you on speakerphone.

“Is everything okay?”

She goes on to ask permission to do a facemask with her cousin. While she rambles on about other activities they have planned for their sleepover, you distantly hear the passenger door open. You quickly turn your head to smile at him then bring your pointer finger to your lips signaling him not to say a word.

“Mom? Helloooo? Are you listening to me?”

You scramble to get back to your call as your passenger shuts the door. “Uh–sure, honey. That all sounds great. Just make sure you get some sleep and listen to auntie, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And you know I told you that I have a late-night meeting so no phone calls but you can always text–”

“I know, mom.” She’s exasperated in a manner that only middle-schoolers who know it all would be. You exchange ‘I-love-you’s’ before she ends the call.

And now, you can properly greet your new arrival.

“Hi,” Namjoon says.

“Hi,” you greet him with a smile. “That was Yuna.”

“So I heard,” he smiles. “Is she sleeping over at Emma’s?”

You nod. “She’s thrilled. It’s a school night and she gets to stay up late with her favorite cousin.”

He chuckles. “I don’t know if I can top organic facemasks when she comes over next week, but I’ll try.”

“I’m sure she’ll be happy with whatever you’ve got planned for her.”

“Right. As long as she’s happy.”

You nod then let out a long sigh before telling him, “You know, at some point, we need to stop meeting like this.” That’s what you also said last time. And the time before that. You’re fully aware of it and you think that if you say it enough times, you’d believe it and actually stop.

“I know,” he breathes out before cupping your nape to bring your face to his, sealing his lips over yours. You don’t pull away or give any hint of protest. You melt right into him, your mouth parting to let his tongue savor you.

You miss this. You miss him.

Somehow, you find the willpower to wrench yourself away from him. “Easy there. We’re still in the parking lot.”

You can see the mischief in his eyes even through his glasses. “So? It’s not like that’s stopped us before.” His hands trail between your legs, cupping your heat.

“I know but,” you gently push his hand away. “We have a reservation and it’s late so we should probably get going.”

He sighs, relenting. “Okay.” He reaches back for the seatbelt then stops short of buckling in. “By the way, happy anniversary,” he grins.

You feel a flutter in your chest and your cheeks warm up. “Happy anniversary,” you reply.

******

Namjoon scrolls through his phone, scanning for the email confirmation that contained the security code and instructions to unlock the rental.

“Are you sure you have it?”

You are both standing on the front porch of your Airbnb, using your phone's flashlight to help him see his phone better. He was nearly blind as a bat, especially in the dark, even with his glasses on.

“I’ve got it! Trust me.” He scrolls some more until he exclaims, and finally sees the coveted email.

He carefully punches the code on the door’s keypad until you hear it chime, confirming that you’ve gained access.

You walk through the door and into this place that is known to you. But seeing it again after so long, makes it feel unfamiliar.

The first thing you notice is that the foyer has been redone. The divider wall that used to separate the kitchen and living room has since been knocked down to give it a more ‘open’ layout.

The furniture is all generic. Not much thought was put into picking them out. The colors also don’t provide much contrast to the equally bland walls. It all blends in but not in a good way.

“Why is everything so white?” You remark.

“It supposedly gives the illusion of a bright and open space.” Namjoon sets your bags at the base of the staircase.

“Feels more like a hospital to me,” you reply dryly, to his amusement. He moves into the kitchen, helping himself to the contents of the cupboards.

You follow behind, wandering over to the counter, where there is a binder listing the ‘house rules.’

“No parties, no loud music,” you read random bullet points out loud. “Quiet time at 10PM. Interesting.”

His arms circle your waist from behind, and you feel him nuzzle into your neck, planting a soft kiss. “Can you stay quiet after 10PM?” He murmurs against your skin.

“Shut up,” you giggle and break out of his hold and playfully pinch him on his side. “Only if you keep your hands to yourself after 10PM,” you tease him back, making him burst into laughter.

You walk around the place some more, scanning and assessing. You’re surprised at how many more modifications have been made. Gone were the warm, earthy tones that you painted the living room and the kitchen.

What was wrong with the way things were before? The interior designer you hired found a great way to marry modern and vintage concepts!

You shake your head in mild irritation.

The upstairs bedrooms feel just as desolate with the plain white, sanitized walls. At least the new owners attempted to break the monotony with a few framed watercolor prints and scenic photographs, no doubt purchased from a big-box store.

You find yourself standing in the midst of your old master bedroom. You see hints of the old furnishings layered with the new. It certainly wasn’t how you remembered it.

“Huh.” Namjoon says when he walks in. “Why didn’t we think of putting the bed against that side of the room before?”

You roll your eyes at him. “Because you get up to go to the bathroom more often than I do so that’s why we put it on the side that was closer to the en suite.”

His mouth drops slightly with a soft ‘ah,’ in sudden realization. “Well, I’ll have to admit, you were right. You should have ignored me and gone with your original plan.”

“I appreciate you acknowledging that, years later.” You roll your eyes and brush past him on your way out. “But as you know, marriage is about compromise,” you call past your shoulder.

“I’m ordering the pizza!” Your voice echoes down the staircase.

Namjoon spends a few more minutes in this room, allowing himself to reminisce before finding the strength to tear himself away and rejoin you in the kitchen.

******

You’re sitting at your old kitchen counter, eating pizza and sharing a bottle of wine that Namjoon ended up stealing from the owner’s kitchen. When you question him as to whether the alcohol was included in your AirBnB reservation, he shrugs and promises to replace it instead.

“So, are you seeing anyone?”

You stop mid-bite, taken aback by his question. “Wow, already?”

“What? I’m just making conversation.” He says casually as he takes a sip of wine. “And I’m nosy,” he snickers.

You giggle at his admission. “Nope, not seeing anyone. I had–what I thought was a connection a month ago…but that was a false flag. I’ve decided to hang back, take a break…be alone for a bit, you know? I’m not really looking for anything serious anyway.”

His expression turns sullen. He clears his throat before saying, “I thought you had a connection with Seojun. Things looked pretty serious.”

The reminder of your fatal mistake doesn’t sting as much as it did before. And he wasn’t as angry and bitter when he brings it up.

“Seojun was…” you sigh, collecting your thoughts so as not to create unnecessary ripples in this still water. “He was good for me at the time. He was who I needed at the time. But long-term?” You scrunch your face and shook your head. “I didn’t think that far down the road.”

He used to always ask ‘why.’ Why did you do what you did? Why did you make those choices?

You were together for five years before you married. Two years later, you had Yuna and everything seemed picture-perfect. You thought that you were doing well and that you might really have a knack for marriage and monogamy. It was a point in your relationship when you thought that nothing could ever break you.

But it turns out that anything and everything can break you.

Seojun came along and it was as if something that had long been dormant ignited within you. You thought it would be a one-off, but it wasn’t. For months you thought Namjoon would suspect whether anything felt off. It wasn’t like you were trying to get caught but maybe some part of you wanted him to catch you. But that didn’t happen. Instead, he seemed happily blissful in his own world, seeing everything through rose-colored lenses.

You pick up your wine glass and tip the contents into your mouth, emptying it. When you set it back down on the counter, you look at him, staring at you.

“But you loved him, right?” He asks between mouthfuls of pizza.

You pause for a few long beats before responding. “Sure. In a way, yeah.” Your answer is noncommittal but the truth was, you didn’t know for sure if what you felt for Seojun was love. It certainly wasn’t the same as what you felt for Namjoon. He was in his own category.

“I don’t get it though. Why would you want to be alone?”

You scoff and straighten in your seat, feeling the urge to be defensive. “I don’t get why you’re suddenly concerned about my choice to be alone.”

“No, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” He switches tact, sensing that your walls start to go back up. “I remember back then, you used to say that a lot…that you like being alone and that you didn’t believe in marriage or lifelong partnership. And yet–you still agreed to marry me when I asked. So no, I don’t believe that your ultimate desire or goal is to be alone.”

You pour yourself another glass. “You were different. Being with you, what we had–it made me want to prove myself wrong. That perhaps I do have the marriage gene in me and I can make it last.” You pick at a piece of pepperoni on your slice. “I’d like to believe that I did. I tried to keep things together to make things work for us.”

Namjoon reaches for your hand and brushes his fingers over your knuckles in an attempt to console you.

“Turned out well, right?” You remark sarcastically, throwing your free hand up in defeat. “I failed. So, I conclude that I just don’t have it in me.”

“The marriage gene?”

“Uh-huh. I’m doomed!” You laugh darkly.

You were happily resigned to that fact. Namjoon was a beautiful anomaly. While your time may have been short-lived, it still added meaning to your generally doomed perspective on marriage and relationships.

His fingers curl around your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. “For what it’s worth, I thought you were great at it.”

You smile wistfully and bring his hand up to your lips to kiss it. “Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.”

******

You were in the upstairs bathroom washing up when Namjoon excused himself to retrieve a couple of things from his jacket pocket downstairs when his phone starts buzzing.

“Hello?” He answers.

“Hey, how’s it going? I’ve been trying to reach you. How was your flight?” the female voice says on the other line.

He clears his throat and hides away in what used to be his office. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, sweetheart. You know how it is at my dad’s house. The reception’s shit.”

“Why are you whispering?” She asks.

“Dad just fell asleep. You know how he’s such a light sleeper.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re right. Do you think you’ll be able to finish up whatever you need to over there? I have some miles on my card and fly out tomorrow to come over and help?”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Namjoon tells her calmly. “Dad and I are just about done packing up some of his old things here so, he’ll be ready to move into the facility. He’s really looking forward to it.”

“Is he? That’s great.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I have to go. I’m trying to sort through a few more of his things here while he sleeps. I work faster when he doesn’t stop to admire each item and talk about what it meant to him.”

“Okay. Just call me if your flight changes. I love you!”

He hears the floorboard creak and looks up from his seat to find you leaning against the door frame, dressed in nothing but a black lace teddy. Biting his lower lip, he says, “I love you, too.”

As soon as he hangs up, he tugs at your wrist and ravishes you.

******

“You think she’d ever suspect anything between us?” You wonder out loud while you both lay naked in your former marriage bed, basking in your post-sex high.

He shakes his head adamantly. “I think ‘you and me’ is the last thing on her mind.”

You laugh at how confident he made that sound.

“I’m serious!” He says firmly. “This is not even remotely on her list of possibilities! She knows what happened between us so this is highly unlikely for her.”

You sit up against the headboard and stare at him in disbelief. “You told her about us?”

He shrugs, not seeing the problem with it. “It was all part of my therapy and healing process so…yeah. I told her everything.”

“So, does she think I’m, like, the devil incarnate or something?” You try to mask the pang of guilt in your chest by making light of it.

“Nah. She doesn’t really think about you.” Then he immediately adds, “I’m not saying that to be hurtful or dismissive. I think at the time she thought she was somebody who could, I don’t know, put me back together or something.”

Even though you’ve both said your pieces over the years and talked things over, traded apologies, and accepted them, it still felt inadequate.

“I’m sorry,” you say instinctively.

He sits up to mirror your posture and dips his head to kiss your bare shoulder. “You’ve said that already.”

“Yeah but–” He cuts you off mid-sentence with another kiss, his lips lingering over yours.

“No buts. We’re good, okay? I’m good.” He reassures you.

But you press him anyway. “Okay, I’m sorry to keep dropping the reality check here but what if she finds out?”

He sighs, a wry smile on his lips. “If she does…” he trails off without finishing his thought. He straightens his posture, turning serious. “I guess you could say that I’m no longer scared of being labeled the bad guy. I spent a good chunk of my life trying to do the right thing and being a good person. Always doing what is morally acceptable.”

You tilt your head at him in curiosity. He’s changed a lot, but just like your old house, even though the fixtures have been replaced, walls knocked down and repainted, and furniture layout rearranged, you can still see hints of what it used to be.

He’s still the same Namjoon you fell in love with, beneath this new cynical, detached exterior. He wasn’t always open about his emotions but in the rare cases that he would wear his heart on his sleeve, you saw and felt it.

Right now, he was baring his soul to you.

“I’m not saying that I’m proud of it. You know, the affairs. I have needs that she can’t fulfill,” he shrugs. “There’s acceptance on my part. I’m not trying to claim righteousness or hide behind morals. And that’s okay. I’m okay with that!”

You’re silent as you take in his ruminations. In a way, it saddens you that he’s adopted this perspective. You always knew him as an idealist–someone who, as he said himself, ‘always did the right thing.’ Which was why it crushed him when you confessed your infidelity.

He stares at you for a minute before breaking into a chuckle. “What?”

“What?” You echo, your eyebrows furrowing.

“Say something!” He laughs.

“I mean, what do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know! Anything. Scold me or, I don’t know…tell me that this isn’t right. ‘Your wife doesn’t deserve this! You’re a terrible husband!’” He says jokingly.

“I am the last person to judge, okay? If it doesn’t keep you up at night…” you trail off.

He nods at that.

But then you cock your eyebrow at him, picking up on what he said moments ago. “So, ‘affairs?’ You mean, there’s more?”

“I had some fling a few months ago. It was meaningless,” he add quickly, as if that contributed to anything. “And there were a couple of one-night stands but I don’t think they count.”

“Mm…” you hum vaguely.

******

Namjoon cracks open another bottle of wine and brings it upstairs, where you both drink in bed and continue to trade stories.

“I didn’t really want to get married again. We were having a good time and she’s great,” he recounts the early days of his new relationship. “Sometimes it’s easy to confuse great sex with love.”

“Mm-hmm. Speak for yourself,” you remark.

He smirks at your comment. “But…there she was, down on one knee, asking me to marry her. And so I did. We’ve been living together anyway so, might as well, right?” He shifts and changes his tone, feeling the need to clarify that he’s not a complete asshole. “I hope you’re not taking this the wrong way but she and I are good. We’re comfortable. It’s like, we speak the same language.”

He’s tipsy and babbling but you let him. “That’s great,” you smile softly, taking a sip of wine.

“The sex is not.” You nearly choke at his revelation. “A month after we got married–phew–” He makes a whistling sound and makes a quick, swooping gesture with his hand. “Out the door, it went.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say with all sincerity.

He shrugs. “It is what it is.”

“But don’t you love her?”

He purses his lips and tilts his head from side to side. “In a certain way, sure.” He mirrors your answer from earlier this evening.

You nod vaguely, letting the words hang in the air while you both fall into a comfortable silence.

After a few beats he says, “I’ll never love anyone the way I loved you. That’s a fact.”

This isn’t the first time he’s told you this. He’s declared it several times, at least once during one of your clandestine meetings.

“When we were together, I never thought we’d split up. That never occurred to me. So–what I have with her it’s…it’s an entirely different kind of love. But if or when she suddenly comes to me and asks for a divorce, I’d give it to her. I feel like that’s where this is headed anyway.” He downs the rest of his wine before setting it down on the nightstand. “I would compare it to a piece of tape. You stick it on then peel it off and try to stick it someplace else. It might take, if you tried hard enough but…it’s never quite the same.”

You lick your dried-out lips and let out a shaky breath. “God, that sounds really sad,” your voice cracks.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not sad about it so you shouldn’t be!” He maintains his lightheartedness. “I think it’s perfectly fine to have different types of love, different types of relationships. Mine happens to be unconventional.”

“Unconventional, yes. But the way you speak about it, it’s as if you’re saying that you’re totally comfortable with the fact that you’ll never truly love again. That’s what saddens me.”

“I never said that,” he says in defense. “I never said I’ll never truly love again.” Then he looks you in the eye and says matter-of-factly, “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

The look he gives you sends an involuntary shiver down to your spine which makes its way between your legs. “Yes, but what we have is different. We’ve both gone through the worst possible thing that could happen in our relationship; which is why when you’re with me, there are no surprises. No unrealistic expectations. There’s no fear lurking around because it’s all laid out for you.”

His expression is steady and unchanged. “And I’m saying this is what works for me right now. This is what works for us–”

“Ugh, Namjoon…” you groan, sinking back into the mattress and turning on your side, facing away from him. “That’s such a fucked up way of looking at the situation. You know how fucked up we are! We’re still reeling from how our marriage ended and…” You bury your face in your palms and groan in frustration again. “Who would have thought even after we signed those papers, that it didn’t really mean the end…Like, right that second? I wish that somebody told us that breaking up takes much longer than that.”

You feel the bed dip behind you as he scoots closer, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you flush against him. “It’s like we said, it just takes time, baby.”

“But it’s been five years!” You whine petulantly. “I just want to be done with it! You said that after we’re divorced, we’d move on and start fresh.” You turn your body around, his face is so close to yours. “Now, we’re just in this endless cycle of grief and trauma.”

You close your eyes and you feel him press his forehead on yours in silent agreement. You don’t remember how long you hold each other like that. He quiets your whimpers with the softest kisses until you both drift off to sleep.

******

“No!” Namjoon cries out, jolting you both awake. He sits up abruptly, with his head in his hands. His back is covered in sweat and his heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest.

“Hey.” You sit up and rub circles on his back consolingly. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“Yeah,” he sniffs and wipes his tears away.

You offer to get him a drink of water but he declines. He gets out of bed and paces around the room.

“Do you want to talk to me about it?”

“Uh…” he breathes before sitting back down on the edge of the bed. “Yeah. I’m…trying to remember bits and pieces.” He takes a minute to regulate his breathing while simultaneously collecting his thoughts. “We were walking down the street, coming back from a dinner party or something. And then, we needed to cross the street for whatever reason.”

You hug your knees to your chest while you listen to him.

“I was holding your hand so we could go together but you went on and darted out into the dark road. I kept calling out to you but you kept moving farther away from me. I tried so hard to run after you but it was as if my feet were sealed into the concrete.” A tear rolls down his cheek. “I felt so helpless because I wanted to get to you and–I couldn’t see you. You were gone.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. C’mere,” You open up your arms and beckon him to come back to bed.

He obliges and nuzzles into touch. “I couldn’t get to you,” he cried.

“It was just a dream, baby.” You whisper calmly into his ear, rubbing his back to console him.

He burrows his face into the crook of your neck. “It’s not the first time I had a dream about losing you. I’ve had different versions of that dream where you disappear into the dark and I can’t move my body to reach out to you. It’s like–I’m perpetually stuck or something.”

All you can do is listen. This was his trauma talking. You continue to rub his back and rock him gently.

“You know, sometimes I wonder if…if I’ll ever love anybody. Like, truly love them. Or maybe I’ve never been truly loved before. Maybe…maybe that’s what it means. I’ll never be able to have the ability to–“

“Hey,” you interject. You pull his face away from your shoulder and cup his cheeks. “Listen to me— I love you. In my own… twisted way. And I know that you love me. In your own way.”

He smiles ruefully, his eyes welling up with emotion.

You gaze at him, brushing his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb. “I will always love you,” you say reassuringly before bringing your lips to his.

Your gentle kisses turn hungry and you can’t help when your body responds to him instinctively. Your need for him is unrelenting.

One moment he’s telling you about a nightmare and the next, you’re wrapped up in each other’s arms, your legs on either side of his hips. It doesn’t take him long to be ready for you, especially when you’re naked and bare for him.

You undulate your hips, grinding your slick over his length. His hands gripping your waist, guiding you while you pleasure yourself with the delicious friction.

“Mm, you’re so wet for me,” he whispers, reaching between you to rub circles on your clit.

“Mm-hmm,” is all you can muster.

“You ready for me, huh?” He nips at your bottom lip.

You give him a nod and he manages to pause his ministrations to reach across the nightstand. Once he sheaths himself, he takes one swift move and slips right into your center.

Each thrust is purposeful. Your fingers grip his hair as you moan into his shoulder. He gently sinks his teeth into your tender flesh, groaning. You're both floating and it’s a special kind of high.

One look at him and you heat up to a fever pitch. You take comfort in the deep baritone of his voice, goading you, whispering his naughtiest fantasies about you when you’re apart. You feel him touch you and you know it’s what you’ve been missing. He completes you.

You move in perfect sync as if you never separated. When you’re intimate like this, the questions and doubts fade when your bodies close in, filling every gap. Your connection is unrivaled.

He pulls back. “You close?”

Not that he needed an answer but he just loves watching you come undone. He ups the ante, cupping your ass cheeks and combining deep plunges with swivels, thrusting sharply and retracting slowly. Your head lolls back, dizzy with pleasure and at the same time awed by the heights he takes you to. Places where you can simultaneously forget and remember. Where nothing and nobody else exists except you and him and the mutual passion you share.

The sweat misting his brow glistens in the dusky light, his face beginning to strain as your release crests and finally crashes down. Instantly, you shudder, the tingling becoming too much to bear, your skin too sensitive. He is attuned to your body, because he stops his movements and applies pressure where you need it, keeping your hypersensitivity at bay, as his own climax hits him hard. His growls are suppressed, his face crimson with the rush of blood to his head. Your walls squeeze him greedily, prolonging your pleasure as he empties himself into you.

Namjoon drops you both onto the mattress, collapsing in a heap of exhaustion. He is glued to your slick chest, where he will remain for the next ten minutes, snoozing, nuzzling, and kissing your neck. You hold him and savor the moment before you part and return to the alternate realities you both worked hard to establish.

Deep down, you know you’ve ruined him. You didn’t mean to. He was nothing but an innocent bystander in your own path of self-destruction. Perhaps, as your lifelong penance, you’d spend the rest of your days assuring him that he’s not broken and that he deserves unconditional love.

You breathe into his shoulder as you settle, holding him as close as you possibly can. In your own quiet way, you're telling him that you're happy to remain like this.

Main Fic Masterlist

You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

#bts fanfiction #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #namjoon fanfiction #bts smut #knj smut #dandelion x knj

154 notes · View notes

shhh-secret-time · 4 months

Note

The soulmate AU fic’s are so cute 🥹🥹 I’m so incredibly in love with your writing! The Stan fic made me giggle so much 💙💙 HE IS PERFECT

I’d love to request one for Kenny if you’re not totally sick of the soulmate stuff 😂🩷

Anon. I need you to listen to me carefully. I will never, ever, be tired of soulmate stuff.

In fact, that's it. You're getting the softest Kenny fic of your life! Maybe

Warning: Body Horror, Blood, Injury, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Anxiety, a bit of depression. Violence.

Pairing: Kenny x GN!Reader

One of your favorite lessons growing up was the time your class learned about plants. You and your fellow classmates all sat at your desk with a little pot of soil to call your own. It didn't mean much to you at first, but as the class went on and the teacher her lesson it began to sink in.

This was life.

You remember going starry eyed as she pressed the smallest little seed into the dirt and poured a little water onto it. This woman had introduced you to something so simple yet so beautiful. How a little sunlight and a little bit of water could grow into something so gorgeous. So, you dedicated the next few months to that little seed. Staying awake late at night whispering secrets to it like an old friend, making sure it was nice and watered.

Needless to say, you cried when your little plant didn't sprout as quickly as everyone else's. You didn't understand what you were doing wrong. Your teacher tried to reassure you that you were doing fine.

Your name falls from her lips as she helps you wipe the tears from your eyes. "You're not doing anything wrong. Plants can be complicated. Some take a little longer than others but there's nothing wrong with them or with what you're doing!"

At the time she was talking about the plant, but as you got older the words stuck with you. And maybe she really was just talking about the little seed, but as you got older it got harder to not apply it to people.

You watched as people took to their own colors, growing and being shaped by the world around you. Some grew thorns, others grew branches. Most planted their roots, souls intertwined with the small town of South Park.

So why did it feel like you were the only one still in the ground, barely sprouting?

You're not doing anything wrong.

God, you wish you could believe her.

But it was hard when you were so overwhelmed with comparing yourself to the others. You weren't athletic like Stan or Red. You weren't top of your class like Kyle or Wendy. You didn't have the charm of Jimmy or Nichole. No, you were just you. What was special about you?

Kenny McCormick could. The blond could write a book on all the things that made you special. Pages filled with how kind you were, how you lit up every room you walked in even if you didn't realize it. If he was a smarter man, he'd probably find a way to compare you to some sunrise. Something beautiful!

Instead, all he can come up with is a dandelion. You may not be the most exotic plant in a flowerbed, but you were beautiful. Like dandelions you were everywhere to him. Under the gentle rays of the sun, pushing through the cracks of the sidewalk; brightening up his day. He saw you on the side of the road waving to him with a gentle sway, yellow petals beckoning him over. He saw the way you stretched up and up past the others eventually changing to those puffy little white balls.

But he's not a smart man, and on top of that he had a reputation. Kenny loved people, he loved that people loved. He loved his three asshole friends; he loved them more than they deserved. He loved his sister, the best thing to ever come from his parents, and that included him. Sometimes that love came out a little too much, he just had so much of it to give. Because like you, Kenny never really felt like he was good enough.

In a world of soulmates, love was hard. If Kenny caught ink on skin that seemed to change, or paragraphs of words on people's arms, he knew that his love would just be temporary for them. He often wondered if you had anything like that. Maybe a tattoo somewhere on your body that would indicate who your soul was bound to. The thought would keep him up at night because no matter how many times he checked; Kenny never saw ink. Never saw pictures or words with someone's thoughts. Stan and Kyle always were the lucky ones.

Lucky people don't lie in a dirty alley with their sides split open. Lucky people don't have to clench their sides to try to stop their blood from slipping out of them.

How could he be so careless? He'd done this song and dance for years now, ever since he was old enough to throw a fist and really make it hurt. Some nights it felt like this was the only thing he was good at, taking a hit and getting back up. Kenny McCormick was the world's punching bag.

He closes his eyes for a moment, and God it felt so good. To just let his eyes rest for a moment, he's been running on Monday's sleep, and it was fucking Wednesday. A small part of him thought about just letting sleep take him, how would it be different than his room?

Oh, but Karen.

And those guys trying to mug that poor woman, yeah, they were still a thing.

Kenn- no Mysterion pulls himself to his feet, the long purple cape hides his shaky legs. Yeah, Kenny might be the world's punching bag, but Mysterion fucking hits back. The dark purple gloves, now stained with a dark red, press into the wound trying to staunch the flow. His vision was getting dizzy, but he wasn't seeing black yet. He still had time before he'd wake up in bed again. Just enough time to break a few bones.

Meanwhile across town you sat in the living room of your small apartment, whatever YouTube video playing in the background. A nice little book rests in your hand, it was a quiet night for you. Most of them were as your apartment was just you and your little cat, the chunky little lady rest by your feet happily purring, just content to be around you. Well, you, your cat, and your plants. Right beside you were pots filled with various plants you'd grown over the years. From seasonal flowers to three different shaped bonsai trees, to various colored succulents, and finally your favorite Orchid. The beautiful purple flower had bloomed recently, and it was your pride and joy.

Everything was perfect, no stress about having to be better than you are. No deadlines or classes that made you feel dumb. No obligation to socialize and try to entertain people you didn't exactly call friend. That is until the sharp pain in your side made you scream out. Your cat jumping away from you and cowering on the other side of the couch, she looks terrified.

Right along your side, just below your rib, felt like it was being ripped apart. Like someone was taking their nails and pulling your skin apart. You lift your shirt and stare down in horror, as bright red spider lilies sprout from your skin. Thick green stalks wrap around each other and soon the crimson petals sprout out, it would be gorgeous if it wasn't in your skin. You feel like you're about to pass out, the sudden act was enough to make your body start shaking.

"W-What the- what the hell?!" You want to scream, want to cry out but all that comes out is a hushed whisper.

Luckily the pain stopped as soon as the flower finished blooming, the pain dulled down to a low buzzing around your skin. Your hands were shaking as your fingertips traced the flowers, unable to comprehend what was really happening. You blink, and then you blink again and again. They're still there and the velvet petals under your fingers were real.

Impulsively you moved the flowers apart until you found the base of the stem, there you saw how your skin meld together perfectly with the plant. It was like they were always a part of it. With a deep breath you grab the plant by the stem and pull. The pain it shoots through your body is unlike anything you've ever felt before, but it offers no resistance as it comes out of your body.

You squeeze your eyes expecting blood or at least a wound, but you don't feel your skin rip open. Instead, it feels like something has slipped from your skin, like pulling string through a closed fist. Through heavy breathing you open your eyes, and you felt your heart start to settle, the beautiful flowers were now tightly clenched in your fist roots and all. On closer inspection they had little drops of water on the petals as if they had just been watered. It was only then you realized you had been crying.

You couldn't sleep for the rest of the night, tossing and turning as your hand kept coming up to your sides. The area was numb, it didn't hurt but you couldn't get the image out of your head. It made your skin crawl and the shiver down your spine felt sharp, sharp enough to make your back arch. As the morning sun greeted you letting you know it was time to get up and start the day, the first thing to greet you were the spider lilies sitting next to you. You don't know why you didn't just throw them away, get rid of them and never think about it again, but they really did look so beautiful.

Now they were sitting on your nightstand next to the window, dancing back and forth as the little draft that entered your apartment led them in a waltz. As you pull back the blankets and your feet hit the cold floor of your apartment, your fists clench around the blankets as you stare down in horror.

Your knuckles were covered in poppies, little sprouts pushing in between the dips of your fingers. On your right hand they were much larger blooms and more prominent on the knuckle itself. You hiss at the way it parts your skin, much less clean than the spider lilies were. The poppies wiggle a bit making room as another one pushes up and breaks your skin. This time there is a little blood, not more than a paper cut would give you but still it was alarming.

Rushing to your bathroom you run your hand under the water, the fast-running water slamming down on the little red petals. Another red flower. Another flower meaning pain or death. You're much more careful this time, gently plucking the poppies up from your skin and placing them to the side on the wet counter. They come up just like flowers last night, with ease and when you inspect your knuckles there's nothing as if it was never there.

"Guess I'll get a pot for you guys..." You mutter to the flowers, rubbing your hand over your knuckles.

There was a part of you that thought about emailing your professor as to why you wouldn't be coming to class, but what would you even say?

Good morning Professor,

I won't be able to attend class today, I am not feeling well, and I was wondering if I could get the notes for today's class from you. I sincerely apologize and hope that I will recover soon.

Good morning Professor,

I won't be attending class today as I had a family emergency come up! I hope you understand, and I will be in class when everything settles down.

Hey Professor,

I've got fucking flowers growing out of my fucking skin! You know anything about that?!

You let out a loud groan and lean forward on your desk, pushing your laptop to the side. Your sweet little roommate jumps up and meows at you in response, she nudges her head against yours and puts her paw on your cheek. A small attempt to make you feel better, she's trying. When you don't move, she meows again only louder this time, her head smacking into yours.

"Ow! Okay! I know I can't just sit here all day." She looks at you when you lean up and snap back.

She sits all prim and proper as you get up from your seat, she watches as you pace around the room and gather everything you need for the day. When she meows again you stop and look back at her, conversations with your cat weren't uncommon some days it felt like she was the only one you could really talk to. It was sad but it was better than spending nights alone talking to your plants.

"Look, I've got to go. I'm paying for the stupid classes I might as well just go. I just have to hope that whatever happened last night, doesn't happen again!" You grab your coat and throw it over your arm, giving her one last look. "Maybe I can talk to someone there? Maybe someone knows what this is, until then you're in charge of the house! No eating the plants while I'm gone!"

When she doesn't meow back at you, you narrow your eyes at her in suspicion. "I'm serious!" She jumps off your desk and walks over to the couch where she rolls on her back. Not a care in the world.

Curse that cat and her adorable behavior. You've got no choice but to trust that she'll behave. On your way out you grab your keys and make your way down the steps of your little home. Days where it was nice and sunny out made you happy you live so close to your college campus, other days it was a drag to get out of bed.

The rest of the day went by quietly, just how you like it. You couldn't help but fidget in your seat out of fear of spontaneous flower growth. What if a really large plant came out of your back while you were sitting in front of someone? If it was like the spider lilies last night, you'd most definitely scream out in pain and that would be embarrassing. Once class let out you were the first one out of your seat, practically bolting to the door.

This was getting to be too much, you had to find someone to talk to about this. The anxiety of when it would happen again was overwhelming. As you pass the little library you stop and check the inside, maybe you didn't have to talk to anyone about this. Maybe it would be in a book or at the very least you could try googling it.

As you walk into the quiet little domain you spot a few other students standing around talking to one another. Some sitting by the common tables, others tapping away on the public computers. Just as you're about to make a beeline for one of the computers tucked away in the corner, a soft voice stops you almost making you leap out of your skin.

"Hey, are you okay? Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!" The voice was so gentle and soft, you turned to see Heidi Turner smiling at you.

Heidi Turner was one of the sweetest people in the school, she went through leaps and bounds to be a better person after high school. Most days she keeps herself either in the library offering to tutor other students, or volunteering around town in various ways. She was always kind to you, and you always wanted to call her a friend but something stopped you. Even though she was a sweet girl, that fear of bothering her was still there.

"Oh um...it's okay! Really, I was just uh...going to use one of the computers. Is that okay? Am I allowed?" God, you want to find a hole to crawl into and just die.

"Of course you can! I was actually coming over to see if I could help you find something, but it looks like you've got it all figured out!" She beams up at you with a little giggle.

You think for a moment, if you had to tell anyone about the situation you were in Heidi was a good person to tell. She wouldn't go around telling other people and it wasn't like you had anyone else to really confide in. So, you take a deep breath and go to stop her from walking away. "Ac-Actually Heidi, um could you help me with something? Real quick."

Heidi stops and turns back to you; she cocks her head when she sees the nervous look in your eyes. Now she looks worried, not scared you think but concerned. She walks closer to you and gestures for you to follow her towards the computer, when the two of you are far enough away from the other students she whispers.

"I had a feeling you were looking for a friend, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

A friend? She thought you guys were friends? That alone was enough to make you relax a little and let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You rub your arms a little and look behind you before responding.

"I'm really freaked out Heidi and I don't know how to talk about it."

"Hey, it's okay. Take it slow, I'm right here. Is someone hurting you?"

Your eyes widen at that, and you quickly shake your head at her. "What? O-Oh no no! It's not someone it's- well it's something?" When she looks at you confused, you groan and shake your head. "I mean something happened last night and it's really freaking me out!"

You tell her the events that transpired last night, avoiding the gruesome details as to not freak her out. You expect her to call you crazy or to laugh in your face, but she doesn't.

No, instead she stands there and nods along with you. Even offering her hand to you to take when you start to tear up, the fear of it happening again came crashing down mid-story. She offers you a gentle smile, rubbing your back as you try to calm down.

"It sounds like a soulmate thing." You rub your eyes at her as she speaks, trying to get the tears spilling from your eyes out.

"A... soulmate thing? But why now, and why this?"

"It takes some people a little longer before their soulmate signs trigger. I run a support group for people who run into theirs a little late, or for people who don't have any at all." Heidi says it as if it's the most normal thing in the world to her.

You stare at her in awe for a little while, clinging on to every word with such desperation. She was like an angel, a guardian angel telling you there was nothing to worry about and that this was normal.

"As for why your trigger is this...I don't know. Triggers manifest differently for each person, there's a lot of studies on soulmates. I'm sure someone at the school is much smarter than I could tell you." She pauses for a moment and her eyes light up with excitement. "But hey! This means you've got a soulmate, I'm just sorry it's so painful for you!"

On the other side of the library Kenny was lying on one of the little bean bags chairs the school threw in for comfort. Tucked away in some corner, his plan was to take a little nap in. Somewhere where he knew his friends wouldn't come looking for him, well Kyle might but he'd never thought to find Kenny here. But when you walked in with that look of panic on your face he sat right up, like he had just gotten a full eight hours of sleep.

Why did you look so terrified? What was going on? Did you need someone? You were looking around the library like you were being followed.

These thoughts began pounding at the front of his mind and just as he was about to stand up and walk over to you, Heidi beat him to it. He couldn't make out everything you were saying, but from the way you whispered to the smaller brunette it sounded serious. His lavender eyes follow you into the other corner of the library, the one right across from him.

He should look away; he should mind his own business and try to shut out your conversation. But he can't help it, he knows it's rude, but he can't get the image of your scared face out of his head. So, he closes his eyes and tries to hone in on your conversation with Heidi. It takes everything in his power not to get lost in the way you speak; your voice was so soothing. Kenny imagined it was what honey melting in tea would sound like if it had a voice.

That's when the topic of soulmates came up. He jolts up again and his eyes widen over at you as you describe the flowers sprouting from your skin. The hands resting in his orange patchy parka shuffle over to the wound on his side, or at least where it was. Like every time he died, he'd wake up with his body fully healed with no scars or signs of his life being taken from him.

However, if he didn't die his body would keep the scratches and little wounds on his body. Earlier this morning he got a little careless and split his knuckles, maybe he was putting into many hours as Mysterion here of late but if those stalkers didn't want to be punched, they shouldn't be stalking people. He nearly leaps from the bean bag when you talk about poppies growing from your knuckles this morning, telling Heidi the exact location where he had split his.

His heart was racing, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. There was no way he was that lucky, that he was that deserving that someone like you would be his soulmate. Just before he can stand up the universe reminds him just how unlucky he really is.

"Kenny! There you are! We've been looking everywhere for you dude!" Any other time he would have been happy to hear Stan's voice, happy to see the others following right behind him.

"This is so sad you guys.... Kenny is sleeping in the library now. Is your cardboard bed that uncomfortable?" Any other time Kenny would have shut Eric down with a comeback of his own, but all he could muster was a glare. "Whoa what crawled up your vagina this morning?"

"God damn it Cartman quit it and stop waving that fishing pole around! You've got fucking hooks on it!" Any other time Kenny would have ignored Kyle's yelling, the ginger looked for any excuse to yell at Eric.

"Guys! Look I'm really not in the mood to-" But before Kenny could finish, Eric swung around to face the man yelling at him.

The metal hook at the end of Eric's fishing rod that he was carrying around for god knows why, slammed into the side of Kenny's face. The sharp hook caught the side of his cheek and pierced through the flesh. Instead of screaming out in pain he bit his lower lip and muffled it, once you've been stabbed in a dark alley trying to fight off a group of people it just becomes second nature.

"Dude!"

"Oh, shit Kenny!"

"Sick! You're getting blood everywhere!"

Kenny didn't have time for this, not when you were-

Oh god you.

His eyes dart over to where you were standing with Heidi, silently praying to whatever poor god that would listen to him that you were alright. He watches as you cup the side of your face, hesitating for a moment before your fingers met the cluster of clovers growing on the side of your face.

It doesn't hurt this time. Not like the last few times, in fact it feels gentle. Fingers that aren't yours caressing the side of your face, a whisper of something more, that clumsy first kiss, all of it wrapped up in one little moment. The three leaf clovers bloom across your cheek stopping just at the edge of your lips where finally a single six leaf clover sprouts.

He doesn't wait another moment; with his gloved hands he takes the fishing line that connects the hook in his face and his friends fishing pole and snaps it. His friends watch in horror and awe how he breaks it like a dried twig, like it was nothing to him. Kenny's on his feet before they can stop him again, moving across the library floor with purpose. The pain in his face is nothing compared to what he'll feel if he lets you slip away from him again. His reputation be damned, his pain be damned, all of it damned!

The library went quiet, and any hushed whispers were stopped when Kenny made his way over to you. He didn't even seem to care that he was leaving quite the blood trail behind him, and if anyone in the library cared they quickly changed their minds from the look on his face alone. The sound of his footsteps behind you made you turn to face him, but you don't have much time as he takes your wrist and drags you away from the many eyes and ears of others.

The school grounds are quiet right now, most people either have already gone home or are in class. Kenny doesn't slow down when walking and you don't stop him from dragging you across campus. He takes you further off school grounds, back near the many hills of South Park where the grass is peeking out from under the snow. The first signs of spring being crushed under your heels as you walk. Turning to face you, he doesn't get a word out before you're already looking up at him ready to talk.

"I'm sorry." He almost doesn't pick up what you say, the way you whisper it so softly. The clovers on your face can't make it easy but he can't help but admire how you make them look so ethereal; a painting come to life. Timeless and within reach.

"Why are you sorry?" Kenny struggles to talk as blood pours from his mouth and down his chin.

You don't know why you chuckle or why you smile at him, you should be terrified. Horrified for him that he was standing there talking to you with a fishhook in his mouth like it was the most normal thing in the world. Yet, with him it did feel normal. Unlike the other times you've interacted with the blond. This time it felt right.

If this was the work of him being your soulmate at play, you didn't really care. For the first time in your life things felt peaceful, you didn't feel the pressure of others. Because there were no others, just Kenny and you on a rolling hill. Just two dandelions growing next to each other and basking in the setting sun.

"That you're stuck with...me?" Your voice breaks through the little fantasy in your head and reality comes shattering back around you.

Kenny shakes his head and grins down at you, the gap between his front teeth that he hates now, bare to your eyes. Suddenly he doesn't feel so insecure about it. "I was just about to say that to you. You're the one who's got a plant growing out of your face."

"They were spider lilies and poppies yesterday." When you laugh Kenny has to resist the urge to grab you and pull you in for a kiss.

"If I get to hear you laugh like that always, never apologize to me again." You go to laugh again and look away from him, but he takes the sides of our face and turns you to back towards him. He's so gentle with you, shaky hands being careful not to crush the clovers on your face.

'Anyone else would have.' You think.

"I'm serious. Never apologize to me for being you again. You have no idea how thrilled I am that it's you. That I finally get to have someone to call mine and it's you." Those purple eyes bare down into yours like rain in a thunderstorm. You can even feel the water rolling down your cheeks and he's brushing them away with his thumbs. Whispering soft hushes, telling you not to cry.

"Kenny..."

"Shh, it's alright. I'm only saying it because I get it. I know where you're at but... maybe...maybe this is the universe telling us it's time to love ourselves. I'm not saying we've got to figure this out now I know I've got a bit of reputation of-"

You cut him off, for the second time today Kenny's been cut off, but he doesn't care when your lips are pressed so gently against his. The taste of copper doesn't even seem to bother you either. His eyes flutter shut, and his hands drop from your face to your waist where he pulls you in like he's always wanted to.

"I don't... think you're as bad as you think you are." You whisper against his lips and Kenny feels like he's going to melt.

"I don't think you're as bad as you think you are." He throws your words back at you with a playful purr behind his tone. "Baby I could tell the world just how perfect you are."

You scoff at that and roll your eyes, but the shy smile that plays on your lips tells Kenny exactly what he wants to hear. He reaches up to wipe the blood of your face, but you stop him and take his hand pressing a kiss into the palm of his gloves. You run his fingers through the clovers and take a deep breath, taking in everything around you.

"One step at a time Ken. For now, let’s worry about getting that hook out of your face."

"Huh? Oh yeah, I kinda forgot about it."

"How?"

"Was too busy getting lost in your eyes~"

You snort and push his hand away from your face, but it doesn't go far. Instead, you intertwine your fingers with his and pull him towards the school. Kenny follows you down the hill with all the love in his eyes he can muster.

Kenny McCormick had so much love in his heart to give, and now it was all yours. Maybe in the days to pass you’ll fill your apartment with the various plants and each little bud and flower would remind you of just that. That you weren't alone, you were surrounded by his love. That you were enough. That too him, you were words he couldn't put together and express. Other than...

I love you.

57 notes · View notes

aleenuhs · 29 days

Note

Hi I saw you wanted requests. Could you write something fluffy with Sadie? Maybe she takes you out riding or just a lazy morning with her. Just something cute she deserves ittt👉🏻👈🏻

☼ A Morning With Sadie

warnings: nothing, just fluff, suggestive undertones, reader gets jealous

word count: 1K

paring: Sadie Adler (1907) x Fem!Reader

enjoy xx

For once, it felt nice to sleep in a bed, in a room, under sheets. Your eyes fluttered open, and the bright sunlight from outside cascaded through the window, it was already starting to get warmer. You could hear the soft snores of Sadie beside you as she still remained sleeping peacefully. Now, she looked so relaxed and calm as she slept.

But you just had to wake her up.

Rolling over to her side of the bed, you lean to her ear and whisper, "Time to wake up."

You brushed your hair from your face and looked at her as she stirred awake. When you moved against her slightly, she woke up. Her gaze was glued to you. Making sure you were okay. She wasn't the heaviest sleeper, in fact, it was sometimes rare that she got any sleep at all. But when she was with you, she slept like a baby.

Meanwhile, you always slept well knowing that Sadie was beside you, throughout the night.

"Good mornin'," Sadie smiled lazily at you, reaching toward you and brushing a strand of hair from your face that fell when you moved. Her raspy morning voice played like a song in your ears.

"Good morning," you replied back to her.

A sigh came from her lips and you smiled, "How about we stay in bed for a lil' while longer?" You suggest, but she shakes her head.

"We have stuff to do, darlin', can't just lay here all morning." She playfully chided you as you rubbed her arm, you could feel her flex slightly as you did so, and she leaned over to you and kissed your neck before getting up. But you pull her back down to you.

"Sadie," you dragged the last syllable of her name and sighed, she was sitting on the bed now, looking right at you. She lays back down and brings you closer, her fingers running up and down your back. "Sadie, please?" you repeat desperate.

"You always get your way, you should be glad you're so cute." She laughed. "For that, we'll stay here a bit longer."

You giggled and hugged her, her hand moved to your waist and squeezed. Before you know it, you're resting on top of her, looking out at the window. You both had gotten a room in the Saint-Denis Saloon, looking for a good night's rest, some drinks, and food to hold you both over.

Sadie rubs her arm. "You sore?" you murmured to her and she smiled, remembering last night. She nods.

"Of course, you wore me out, girl." She jokes, but it is true, you wore her out. And damn it was fun.

"Good!" You said playfully, you quickly left a peck on her cheek. "Ugh, hotel beds are usually shitty, but this one feels better." You smile and let out a chuckle, moving back to your side of the bed and yawning, both of your legs wrapped in blankets. Sadie still reached out to hold you.

"Oh I wasn't complainin' sweetheart," She leaned over you and peppered kisses all over your face, "give me a chance to wear you out too. You'll be stationary fa' the next few days."

You looked at her, "who says? I'm strong!" You joked, knowing that if you even gave Sadie the chance, her words would be marked true.

Neither of you we're counting the minutes, seconds, or hours, just enjoying each other. You just knew it would have to end soon as she had to get up.

For some reason, you're immediately brought back to the time that Sadie attempted to gift you some flowers, your favorites, Dandelions, which she went out of her way to pick when she was riding back to Beecher's Hope. Using the flower press that Abagail had, and you keep a singular flower in a book.

Her nails softly hovered over your skin as she looked up at the ceiling, as if she were in deep thought. She starts to hum a little, just softly, but enough to put you at more of an ease. Her presence was enough for you to feel safe, protected from the whole world that was full of bad and evil, she somehow made a home out of herself, all for you.

Sadie buried her face in your neck, her soft breathing tickled you.

A soft chuckle comes from her. "Remember when you were runnin' from Rufus, when you first met him? That darn dog." She smiled to herself, recalling when you were at Beecher's Hope for the first time and Jacks dog came running up to you and you got scared and ran from it.

"Not my best moment, Sadie." You replied, still a bit embarrassed that you ran from a dog, when you'd definitely encountered worse than that cute dog.

She laughs and kisses your neck.

You wondered how much longer you and Sadie were going to stay in bed, after all, she did have a job as a bounty hunter, which she eventually had to tend to at some point today.

That involved riding to the police station and picking up a bounty, you dreaded it, but you followed her around everywhere, what else was there to do? Sometimes, you would stay with John, Abagail, Jack, and Uncle when Sadie wasn't sure how safe she could keep you if she brought you along on one of her bounties. Especially the really heavy ones.

When she took on the higher paying bounties, she was sent out with another woman, which she worked well with, very well. You remembered meeting the woman, they’d both promised to keep each other safe. You never really batted an eye at it, maybe it was just the jealously, you knew Sadie was loyal to you.

She loved you, that much was clear to you. Though, it felt like you both spent more time apart than together, so a morning after a night like last night, it was entirely was a blessing to you both.

#fluff #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #sadie adler x reader #sadie adler #sadie rdr2 #sadie adler rdr2

33 notes · View notes

sotwk · 1 year

Text

Dandelions (Boromir x she/her one-shot)

Moodboard gifted by the lovely @entishramblings

Summary: Boromir brings flowers to his lady love.

Word count: 2k

Content: G-rated Romantic fluff, pining, unnamed love interest, shy, love-sick Captain of Gondor, little brother supporting big brother

Warnings: None

To read on Ao3: Link

Dedication: For the 57% + 10% who answered this poll by @bored-artist and said they would love getting flowers:

Inspiration: This goes out especially to my friend @scyllas-revenge, whose anecdote about her childhood admirer immediately inspired me to write this. The flowers don't matter as much as the giver, and here is the flower-giving experience I think you should have.

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

Dandelions

Third Age 3015

Minas Tirith, Gondor

“Bring her some flowers.”

Faramir’s advice seemed helpful and practical enough at the time he offered it. But it was also something he just muttered hastily to Boromir as he helped the Steward's elder son slip away from the Citadel before dawn could rouse the other residents of the White Tower. Lord Denethor was expected to remain preoccupied that entire day, conducting councils and tours for the visiting delegation from Dol Amroth. But Faramir had also assured his brother that he would cover for him should anyone come inquiring about the Captain's whereabouts.

Cloaked and hooded and bearing neither armor nor arms save for one dagger at his hip, Boromir rode his horse through the dark, winding streets of Minas Tirth and descended to the city’s bottom level. Flowers, flowers. The word tumbled around in his thoughts, but his mind could not fully conceive a plan to procure this particular item. Boromir had never visited a flower vendor in his life, although he knew stalls existed in the city markets. He could not even recall ever plucking wild-growing ones off the ground.

Or was it from trees? Shrubs? Where did beautiful flowers grow, and how could he hope to secretly obtain them if he did not know the answer?

He pondered on the matter so deeply that he barely noticed he had already reached the Great Gate, where he must face the night watch on duty before he could flee towards his day of freedom.

Dark eyes underneath a silver helm squinted up at Boromir’s face, showing recognition but registering no surprise. After a brief pause, nothing more than a cough left the sentry's lips. No names uttered, no interrogation, not even an order to lower his hood. The lead guard gave a signal to his fellow watchmen to open the great door and then stepped back, waving the Captain through the City Wall.

Concerns over being stopped had never even crossed Boromir’s mind; not once in their shared lifetime had Faramir ever failed to deliver on a promise.

And so out of the White City Boromir rode, driving his horse off the Gateway and galloping into the grassy fields of Pelennor. He headed north-east, traversing farmlands and cutting fresh trails through rough terrain just to forge the shortest possible route to his destination.

To her.

His heart thundered in competition with the pace of his horse’s hooves. Just conjuring her face in his mind, imagining how it would feel to stand within reaching distance of her, close enough to receive her smiles and be caressed by her sweet scent…

He shifted his weight forward and increased the pressure of his legs on his horse’s sides. The mare responded by surging forward with full vigor, as though charging into one of their many battles together, and Boromir made a silent promise to reward his faithful steed accordingly upon their arrival.

Bring her flowers. Faramir’s parting advice hounded him throughout the ride, refusing to be dismissed as an optional gesture. His brother meant well, but the suggestion did little to bolster and plenty to shake Boromir’s confidence. The Captain-General of Minas Tirith, Heir to the Stewardship of Gondor, commanded plenty of admirable skills, but wooing ladies had never been one of them. At least not in ways considered customary, if his ignorance on gifting protocols was of any indication. Courting traditions were something he never considered worth taking the time to learn, since there were no women who motivated him enough to care about such frivolities.

And then he met her, in whom he found every motivation to start caring. Every reason to even continue being. Boromir had come face to face with a battle he could not rely on his sword or strength to conquer. This confused and frustrated him in ways that should have made him angry. Instead, he could not think of another time in his life when he had ever been happier.

She was worth feeling like an idiot for.

Halfway through his journey, he stopped by a small stream to give his hardworking horse some water and a brief rest. As he paced up and down the loamy bank, ruminating upon reunion scenarios and conversation topics in his head, Boromir's gaze drifted across the running waters. It idly scanned the open fields that stretched out all the way to the nearest farmhouse, located at least a mile off. Suddenly, his anxiety-ridden brain registered the sight of bright yellow dots scattered about the freshly sprung carpet of pale wild grass, bobbing merrily upon their long stalks with the passing breezes.

Flowers! Boromir rushed forward eagerly, drawing his dagger to immediately start cutting up bunches and bunches of the yellow blooms, until he had enough to fill the clutch of his left hand. He produced a passably clean cloth from his saddle pack and used it to tie together the bundle of wildflowers, finally feeling relieved and mayhaps even a little proud of his victory.

The rest of his journey passed with greater ease in the knowledge he would not be arriving empty-handed. The sun had completed its ascent into the cloudless azure sky as he approached the small farming village known simply as Northmere. Once a place of such meager consequence that the Captain of Gondor did not even know of its existence, it had become the most precious location outside of the White City to him before he even had a chance to set foot in it.

A straw-roofed cottage with a fenced-in front garden and a blue-painted door. She had told him exactly how to find her house, and there were not many around to choose from. Walking alongside his horse, Boromir crossed what seemed to be the market square, just a handful of shops to provide the locals with basic essentials.

One store keeper, a burly older man with flour-dusted arms and apron, came out to his doorway to watch the stranger pass through. He caught Boromir's gaze over the distance and simply nodded his head, perhaps even cracking a smile behind his bushy gray beard. Boromir suspected some other curious eyes tracked him from surrounding windows, but no further interactions were attempted.

He found the blue painted door towards the end of a long, worn dirt road that bisected the cluster of houses comprising most of the village. Like reaching mythical treasure at the end of a quest, it filled him with triumphant excitement to approach it.

And nervousness. Valar, his hands never trembled this much clutching his sword as he faced down death on the battlefield. But there he stood at the pathwalk of the cheery cottage, unarmoured and weaponless, preparing to stand in the presence of his greatest weakness, the one who made him feel more vulnerable than any deadly foe from Mordor ever could.

He felt a sudden, firm shove on his back that made him stumble slightly. He chuckled and reached over to pat his horse's neck; he had stood there frozen for so long that his friend felt the need to check on him. "Yes, yes, yes…" he muttered, half to himself. "I am going!"

"Boromir?"

His heart soared at the voice that spoke his name, a sound fairer than any birdsong, and he turned sharply in its direction, pulsing with anticipation from head to toe.

The image of her face had scarcely left his thoughts since they parted exactly one week past. But his memory was a lying, grasping fool that had done no justice to the vision that now stood before him. She stepped out of her little front garden and walked the short path to him, her ear-to-ear smile and sparkling eyes flooding Boromir with mutual joy, even though she could not possibly be as happy to see him as he was to finally gaze upon her.

She had been tending her garden while waiting for his arrival; he noticed the potting soil that lingered on her slender hands and the smudges on the white apron over her skirt. Her cheeks bore the rosy flush of physical labor, and the long waves of her unpinned hair blew freely around her shoulders. She was so effortless in her natural grace, so wonderfully different from the prim and powdered ladies of Minas Tirith that his father regularly forced (or forced themselves) into his company.

It still astonished Boromir how such beauty could have escaped his notice for so long, and he had praised Eru ever since for opening his eyes to Ioreth's young apprentice from the Houses of Healing. For all the times he had teased Faramir for burying his nose in books instead of looking at the world around him, it turned out he had been the one cursed with certain blindness all along.

“You came,” she said softly, stopping tantalizingly short of his arm's reach. She stared up at him with open affection that warmed the Captain to his deepest fibers. "I had hoped for it, but I did not think you would be able to get away."

“I told you I would come, and nothing would have stopped me," Boromir said quickly, and perhaps too fervently.

"I… I have missed…" Her voice failed her on the last word as shyness overpowered her excitement over his arrival. She ducked her head, hiding her blush behind her curtain of hair, as she twisted up the fabric of her apron between her jittery hands.

"I just could not wait to see you again," Boromir said hoarsely. "I could not have borne a second longer without you."

"O-Oh. Y-You honor me, my lord." And the blushing maiden answered his abrupt confession with a polite curtsy.

Her sweetness and modesty crushed Boromir with a sense of unworthiness to even stand in her presence. He felt torn between a strange compulsion to fall to his knees, and an utterly improper desire to seize her and just hold her close against him.

How did he get by a whole seven days away from her? And the more agonizing thought: how would he force himself to part from her again after this?

"Are… are those for…what are those for?"

Boromir stared blankly at the bundle of yellow flowers he clutched in his right hand, an overlong pause passing before he remembered their purpose. “These are for you,” he confirmed, reaching out with the offering. “I… I thought you would like them.”

In accepting the flowers, she stepped closer to decrease the distance that separated them, and her fingers grazed against his in the transfer. Boromir’s hand twitched as impulse rebelled against manners, and he very nearly made a greedy grab for her hand.

“They’re beautiful,” she said, gracing him with a gentle smile that was real beauty beyond comparison. By Eru, Boromir thought in sudden despair. What was he thinking coming to her with such a pathetic gift, so far below what she deserved?! For a maiden as gloriously fair as the sun itself, he should have brought the finest treasures from the most expensive shops in Minas Tirith, if not the very jewels from the coffers of the Steward.

She held the posy up to her nose, sweeping the golden petals across her freckled cheeks and berry-pink lips, and Boromir felt overcome with a feverish desire to trade places with the flowers at that moment.

“It is nothing…” he mumbled weakly.

She shook her head, her face at once firm and determined. “It is everything,” she corrected, raising her gaze to meet his with renewed courage. “You are everything.”

And with two more steps to eliminate the gap, she pressed herself against the warmth of his chest, tucking her head neatly underneath his chin, their bodies already a perfect fit for each other’s embrace. Boromir enveloped her in his arms, promising with all his strength that he would find some way to be worthy of this, of her, even if he had to scour all of Middle-earth for the right flower to profess just how deeply he had fallen in love with her.

Perhaps his wise little brother could help him again.

Tagged by request: @aduialel @fizzyxcustard @laneynoir @auttumnsayshi @achromaticerebus @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @scyllas-revenge @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @heilith @absentmindeduniverse @undeniableadrenaline

For more of my stories, please see My Masterlist.

If you would like to be added to my tag list, please sign up here: Tag List Sign-Up.

#boromir fanfiction #boromir #lotr fanfiction #boromir x reader

296 notes · View notes