#……. my feet would grow but the Shoe Is Not | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

milktiicup · 15 days ago

Note

H-h-hey.. senpai… I was wondering if you could make more about Mr Crawling! (I LOVEDDD YOUR PREVIOUS FAN FIC ABT HIM) because he’s such a cutie tbh and I love him sm so I was wondering maybe if you could make something about how he would react to the reader spending more time with someone else (coworker preferably!)

Feel free to ignore if you don’t want to do this..!

(Can I be 🦁 anon?)

the jealous type!

His face scrunches. “Not you… smell bad. Someone else.”

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🌊 ⋅ ˚✮ omg my first anon >.< ofc u can be 🦁 anon!!!!

warnings. more fluff/comfort hehe, spoilers for end04

It’s late when you return home. If it was any other day, you’d be scheming around the streets with your crowbar- but life is different now.

You have a commitment at home. Your new roommate… boyfriend? thing. It’s almost as routine as having a pet; coming home, giving him a pat on the head, giving him his completely normal legally obtained soup and ending the day snuggled up on the sofa with him at your feet.

Sure, he’s the one who came with you all the way from that other world and didn’t have any friends here, but does that mean you can’t? It’s not like you could bring Mr. Crawling with you to work, or after work drinks with your coworkers. Normal people can still see him, after all. He’s just… a little hard for other people to notice- you picked up on that when your parents dropped by on an impromptu visit one evening.

When you kick your shoes off when you come in through the front door, you feel guilty. You can tell he’s a bit down- of course, Mr. Crawling still tackled greeted you with his overzealous, unnecessarily over the top hug.

“You return!” he says, every time without fail.

“I return,” you reply, petting his head, but something feels off. He doesn’t let go immediately, and his usual enthusiasm is muted.

Mr. Crawling pauses, his face stuffed into your neck. You quirk a brow, curiously eyeing him as he takes a big sniff of your skin and clothes. His face scrunches. “Not you… smell bad. Someone else.”

Is he the jealous type? Wow, and since when was his sense of smell so good?

“You can smell my friend?” you blink at him, cringing as you feel a knot in your stomach. You try to explain, “Uhm… someone else… uhhhh… my friend.”

“Other friend?” Mr. Crawling frowns, sitting back on his feet, the space between you growing slightly colder.

You pull yourself up from the floor, careful to meet his uncertain gaze. “Other friend,” you confirm.

“Friend… same me?”

You sigh, wishing this language was more descriptive. It’s hard to explain something so complex when neither of you really understands it fully. You tap your fingers nervously against your leg, thinking. “I don’t understand…” you sigh, the weight of the misunderstanding settling on you. “They’re human.”

Mr. Crawling’s frown only grows deeper. He shakes his head, and scoots himself closer to you. He wraps his arms around your waist, his hair falling over the both of you as if trying to shield you from everything outside of your house. “Friend like this?”

Resting your head on his shoulder, you let out a content sigh. “Not like this, Crawling.”

“You one. You me two. Not like three.” His grip tightens around you, pulling you as close as he possibly can, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “Me like you. Worry… not like me. Gone long time… Smell someone else.”

You pull back slightly, feeling the pressure of his arms around you. He’s not just possessive, he’s scared. You stretch your arms out. “Like you. Big like. See? This much!” You hold your hands closer together, parallel to each other. “Friend ok. Little like. Understand?”

You chuckle lightly, but the soft pang in your chest makes you pause. “You get it now, Crawling?” you mumble. You reach up and scratch his head absently, a familiar gesture that seems to soothe both of you. “Uhm… when I leave, I go to work. You know work, right?” He nuzzles into your palm, and you just assume he does, for the time being. “Work friend! Not important. You important. You, uh… you understand me?”

“Me understand,” he murmurs into your palm, his cool lips tickling the skin. “Smell bad… Me only like you. You smell good."

"I know you like me, Crawling. I like you, too."

He lets out a satisfied hum, his body relaxing again, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he’s truly getting it—or if he just likes the idea of being yours as much as you like the idea of him being yours. He pulls your head closer to his chest, and that’s when you decide you don’t really need to build rapport with your coworkers that much, not when you have a cute ghost waiting for you back at home.

#homicipher #mr crawling #mr crawling x reader #mr crawling hcs #mr crawling fluff #homicipher hcs

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 5 months ago

Text

it’s downright pouring outside.

suguru rests on the living room couch, cooped up in a bundle of soft blankets, watching droplets ricochet against the windows. heavy, sharp, like the rain is trying to break into your apartment — a steady pitter patter that makes him feel at ease.

it’s cozy, he thinks. being indoors, safe and warm and dry, while the outside world is blanketed by gray. wearing baggy clothes, a pair of reading glasses, his hair tied up into a loose bun; slender fingers turning the pages of the new novel you gave him.

he thinks of you, and finds himself frowning.

suguru got home just before storm clouds gathered in the sky — but as far as he knows, you’re still outside. he’s memorized your comings and goings, what time you usually return home, the paths you tend to favour. as any attentive roommate should.

so he’s a little worried. usually, you’d be home by now. and you still haven’t replied to his messages.

tentatively, he reaches for the warm cup of tea on the coffee table, bringing the ceramic to his lips. sipping from the green, honeyed brew, letting the scent soothe his growing nerves. he shouldn’t be too high-maintenance; you’re a perfectly capable adult. if he nags at you all the time, you’ll just be weirded out. and the last thing he wants is to scare you away.

so it’s fine. you’re fine, he’s sure. there’s no need for him to freak out over your whereabouts. he needs to maintain his cool, calm exterior.

— suddenly, the click of a lock being turned.

suguru’s head whips towards the front door. a moment passes, and then he’s stumbling to his feet, untangling himself from the heap of blankets he’s burrowed into — gently setting the cup back on the table, fixing his hair, making sure he’s presentable — before making his way towards the hall.

and there you are. clumsily dragging the door open, stumbling inside, keys jingling as you step over the threshold; absolutely soaked. just as he feared.

”hey…”

you meet his gaze. panting softly, cheeks a little flushed, wet locks of hair sticking to your forehead and neck. disheveled, letting out a sheepish little laugh — gosh, why do you have to be so cute? — leaning down to pull your shoes off. you’re wearing a thin, white shirt. entirely drenched.

suguru looks away, a heat sticking to his cheeks.

”hey,” you greet, a little out of breath. tossing your shoes away, tugging absently at your collar. ”god. i feel like a drowned rat.”

at that, he lets a little chuckle slip. shaking his head, taking a step back — careful not to let his gaze stray towards the soaked fabric of your clothing. ”why didn’t you call me? i would have picked you up.”

”well, i thought about it,” you hum, walking right past him, ”but i figured you’d still be at work.”

suguru frowns, ever so slightly, discontentment in his eyes. ”… they let me go early today. but you should have texted me, either way. what if you get sick?”

”i’ll be fineeee,” you slip on a grin, turning back to face him. ”just need a quick shower. don’t worry, okay?”

he narrows his eyes, playfully, enjoying the way your eyes crinkle in response. then he exhales, hands on his hips. feigning exasperation.

”… fine, fine. need me to go get you a clean shirt?”

”ah. well...” you let out a wince, earning a tilt of his head. ”i haven’t done my laundry, in like… a week.”

a moment passes. suguru’s lips curl up, an exasperated exhale slipping from his lips. he gazes at you, ever so fondly, raising a brow. ”i asked you if you needed me to wash anything for you.”

”i know, but…” you scratch at the back of your neck, letting out a breathy sigh. ”i don’t want you to pull all my weight. we both live here.” now there’s a pretty little pout on your lips. it makes suguru want to run his thumb over the sensitive skin, soothe it away.

but he only clears his throat.

”i don’t mind,” he answers, truthfully. ”i like doing laundry. you know that.”

”… still.”

his smile only grows, at your quiet mumble, something soft blooming in his eyes. he takes a step forward. ”we’ll see about laundry later. in the meantime… want to wear one of my shirts?”

the words have left his lips before he can think them through — maybe a little too eager. silently, he curses himself for being so forward. but you raise your head, meeting his amber eyes, blinking so sheepishly that he thinks he’d give you just about anything you could ask for.

”… is that okay?”

”more than okay,” he reassures you, a smile on his face. ”i’ll get you something comfy.”

you quiet down, for a moment. still pulling at the collar of your shirt, making sure the thin fabric doesn’t stick to your soaked skin. ”… alright,” you exhale. ”that’d be great, then.”

a hum buzzes in his throat. suguru walks past you, towards the hallway leading up to his room, ruffling your wet hair in passing. his heavy palm on your head, a perfect fit. smiling to himself.

”got it. one second, okay?”

behind him, you nod — but he can’t see it. walking into his room, rummaging through his closet, trying not to lose his mind at the idea of you wearing one of his oversized shirts. maybe a pair of sweatpants, maybe a tank top… he gulps at the thought. heartbeat accelerating, a jittery feeling in his throat.

he settles on a big, comfortable hoodie. bundling it up in his arms, before making his way back to where you’re still standing, still soaked, shivering a little.

”here,” he hums, passing the bundle of soft fabric into your awaiting arms. you nuzzle into the pile, already looking comforted; warming his heart down to the marrow. he hopes you like the cologne he picked out, earthy and deep. a hint of cinnamon. ”now go take your shower, hm?”

”mm. thank you.” you give him a smile, cheeks still damp, a little flushed. ”you’re too nice to me.”

suguru resists the urge to frown. resists the urge to tell you that there’s no such thing, that you deserve every last drop of kindness he can wring out of his cramped-up heart. he knows he shouldn’t be too forward, but you’re making it difficult. you always make it so difficult.

(or maybe he’s just a weak, weak man.)

”oh, please,” he gives you a playful little roll of his eyes, sighing gravely. ”this is the bare minimum. we don’t want you catching a cold, do we?”

”we don’t,” you grin. ”i have a feeling you’d just end up feeding me soup all day.”

a chuckle flows from out his lips. he hopes it doesn’t come out as shaky as his heart feels, just at the thought — the idea of taking care of you like that. being allowed to tend to you, being trusted by you in that way. ”well, i am a chef. need to make sure i don’t get rusty, yeah?”

there it is, again. the crinkle of your eyes, that upturn of your lips, all things he finds himself constantly seeking — suguru exhales, somewhat in bliss. he might need to quit cigarettes for good, soon. it wouldn’t do for him to have more than one vice.

while you take your shower, your roommate lounges on the couch. or at least, he tries to — though his feet inevitably take him to your tiny kitchen, to the water cooker, to the cabinet with all his expensive tea bags. he picks out a nice, strong ginger brew. something to help boost your immune system. silently, drowsily, he pours water into a ceramic cup, stirs the slowly brewing tea with a honey-clad teaspoon. raindrops cascade against the window, and the faraway sound of thunder reaches his ears.

it’s cold outside, but warm and cozy in here. in the home you’ve made for yourselves. he’s really, really glad that he followed satoru’s advice — that he put out that advert, that the first person who reached out ended up being you. he’s happy to share a living space with you, these cozy leftover afternoons. he’s happy to have someone to brew tea for.

(what more could a man like him ask for?)

”um, suguru?”

he stiffens. ears perking up at the sound of your voice, that mellow little lilt — broken out of his syrupy stupor. after a moment, he turns around.

and his breath hitches in the back of his throat.

you’re standing there, right at the threshold separating the kitchen from the living room, hair a little damp from the shower — and you’re wearing his hoodie. it cascades down your frame, the hem of it ending right above your knees, sleeves rolled up to reveal your hands. that hoodie is baggy even on him, but you’re just drowning in the fabric. his heart feels like it’s about to burst, pupils wide as saucers.

suguru lets out a shaky sigh.

”jesus…”

a series of blinks. you tilt your head, like a confused puppy, glancing up at him with a doe-eyed look. fuck, he wants to bundle you up in his arms. he wants you to fall asleep on his chest, wants to keep you there forever. god, who thinks stuff like that?

(he needs to get a grip, and fast. he can already feel his ears growing hotter.)

”it looks… kind of ridiculous, doesn’t it?” you mumble, sheepishly, clouded with what he thinks must be shyness. cute. ”this isn’t really my size…”

suguru lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head, raven locks swaying with the movement. ”i can see that. looks good on you, though.”

”… does it?” you let your arms fall slack, at your sides, the softened fabric swallowing your hands entirely. he can’t even see the tips of your fingers. oh, how his heart aches — it’s squeezing so tightly he fears his chest might cave in, but all he can do is nod.

he turns around, again, absently clearing his throat. clinking the teaspoon against the rim of your cup, stirring idly. ”is it comfortable?”

”mhm!”

a warm smile. ”good.”

silently, you scoot closer, taking your rightful place beside him. resting your elbows on the counter, watching his movements, the flick of his long fingers. one of his rings catches on the ceramic, a quiet clang.

”here,” he hums, pushing the cup towards you. when you look up, his eyes are crinkled at the edges, warm and sweet, a melting pair of honeycombs. ”drink up.”

a moment passes. ”… you really are too sweet for your own good, you know that?”

suguru grins. his heart blossoms a little more; petals sticking between the ridges of his ribs. it manifests as a delighted little chuckle, flowing out his throat.

”don’t thank me yet — there’s sushi for you in the fridge. they let us bring leftovers home again.”

”really? i can have some?”

suguru raises a brow. smiling, all the while. ”would i be offering otherwise?”

(you can have anything, he wants to say. i doubt i could say no. i’m a little weak, when it comes to you.

such embarrassing words.)

a heavy sigh escapes you, laced with relief. taking hold of the cup, raising it to your lips, sipping slowly. ”god, you’re the best. i’m starving.”

”haha… better eat, then, yeah?”

nod, nod. you give him another one of those giddy grins, putting your cup down, taking a step back. suguru can’t help but turn his head, to catch a glimpse of you — how cozy you look, waddling around in that big hoodie, hair a little tousled. humming softly to yourself, tapping the tips of your fingers against the handle of the fridge. it mashes well with the endless pitter patter against the windowpane. a purr of thunder echoes in the distance, and suguru feels at peace. hyacinths line the windowsill, the crinkle of a plastic container being rustled rings out across the room. he watches, listens, observes. wallowing in the feeling.

domesticity.

with a breathy, blissed-out exhale, his eyes fall shut. smile dripping with sweetness, barely contained. wishing on every single droplet that you’ll stick around a little longer than your lease allows.

”here,” you grin, stepping into his line of vision. handing him a plate full of sushi, all his favorite pieces. ”you eat up, too.”

suguru smiles.

”what would i do without you?”

(that’s a bridge he’ll worry about crossing another day.

for now, this is more than enough.)

#geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n #geto fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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entitled-fangirl · 4 months ago

Text

The Warden's fears.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: the reader is unable to give Cregan a child, and he reveals why.

Warning: talks of sex, childbirth, death, crying, guilt, etc

A/n: I've never seen anyone do this concept, so I gave it a shot!

Masterlist

..............................................................

"My gods, what's the matter?"

Y/n sat on the foot on their bed, her eyes puffy and red with tears. She sniffled and wiped her eyes, "I didn't hear you enter, husband."

Cregan let out a light scoff, hating her answer. She only responded coldly when something greatly bothered her. He shrugged off his cloak, throwing it to the side, "That is not an answer."

She wiped her face again and her shaky voice broke, "What am I doing wrong?"

He tilted his head, "Doing wrong? My girl, what are you talking about?"

"Eleven months, Cregan. Eleven months and still no child."

Oh gods.

Cregan felt his stomach drop to his feet.

"I… I didn't know you wanted a child so desperately, my love."

She looked up at him with a horrified face, "Why would I not?"

He let out a breath, cursing himself silently. He kneeled in front of her and took her hands in his. "We already have Rickon. He may not have come from your womb, but he is all I need, my love."

Y/n was Cregan's second wife, his first, Arra Norrey, dying in childbirth. Cregan was devastated at her death, but a few years later, the cold Warden's heart was warmed by Y/n, and they married soon after.

Rickon was a sweet boy, and Y/n was quick to step into a mother role for him when she married the boys's father. Now almost five, he was growing into his father's shoes more and more each day.

Which brought them to now.

"But my duty is to give you children."

He immediately shook his head. "No. No, nothing of the sort. I… I don't need more children."

She tilted her head in confusion, "You're the Warden. You… you need more children. I… I am to give you children, Cregan. And I can't."

"That's not true!" He argued.

"Then why is my womb still bare despite our devotion to it?"

Cregan's cheek flushed completely. "Do… Do you think I only bed you to fill you with my seed?"

"Well… not entirely."

He forced himself to take a breath. "I lie with you because I wish to. Because I love you."

"Will you still love me if my womb remains dry?"

Pain erupted behind his eyes.

How could she think that? That he'd leave her?

Because of his own doing, this was entirely his fault.

His grip on her hands tightened. "I… I must confess something to you, my love."

Her eyes flitted up to his, still puffy and red, but at least the tears had paused.

"I… I have kept myself from filling you with child."

"W…what?" She managed to whisper out.

"I did not know that you wished this so desperately. I am very sorry, my love. I did not mean this as a secret."

She sniffled but no words came from her lips as she waited for the entirety of his secret to be exposed.

"I have been drinking a tea from the maester on the nights I believe we'll lay together."

Her jaw went slack.

"I did not know you wanted a child so badly. That you think yourself only worthy to me if we have children."

She pushed him back as she stood, moving to leave.

But he was quick, standing and grabbing her wrist.

She spun, beginning to hit his chest as sobs wracked from her body, "HOW COULD YOU?" Hit. "YOU'VE LIED TO ME!" Hit. "AND YOU LET ME BELIEVE I WAS THE PROBLEM!" Hit. "How long would you have let me?" Hit. "I hate you!"

He intercepted her hand this time, his grip strong but not one of pain, "Listen to me." His voice was low, "Will you do this?"

She hiccuped lightly as she stared up at him. Finally, she nodded.

"I took the tea because…" He let out a soft sigh. "Arra died in childbirth. I had nightmares of it every night. Her cold body in my hands, switched for the warm one of my son."

His eyes watered but he continued, "The nightmares stopped when I met you. And when we wed… they returned. Only... they were different. Changed. It was you dying in childbirth."

Her eyes softened.

He never spoke of his first wife to her. He hated the reminder of what had happened.

"And so… I take the tea. To keep your womb bare because I.." His voice broke, "…I cannot live knowing I could make the same mistake twice."

"Why did you hide it?" She asked softly.

"It was not purposeful. I figured… you did not wish to see your husband in such a state. Or truly believed that I did not wish to bed you. Or have a child with you."

"But you don't."

"I do," he argued. "I want a child. But… I will not put you through the trials of the creation of one. So, we won't."

His hand trailed down to her stomach, tracing lightly, "To think of your swelling with my child, growing by the day, only to die once on the bed. I can't bear it."

She thought for a while of what to say. She wished she was mad at him. But how could such a burly man proclaim his fears only to have his wife mock him? She couldn't bring herself to.

"That was noble."

His head snapped up to look at her, "Was it?"

She nodded, "You care for me. You put your manhood aside to keep me safe."

He bit the inside of cheek, "I have."

"Thank you."

His eyebrows raised at her proclamation. "You're truly thanking me? When I should be begging your forgiveness?"

Her gaze softened and a hand came up to his cheek, "I do wish you'd have told me. But I cannot fault you for your fears. I'm suppose to ease them."

"How do you plan to do so?"

Her head tilted, "Have you taken the tea lately?"

He nodded.

"Then let us test it."

A fire lit behind his eyes, "Oh, we've tested it quite often, haven't we?"

A mischievous smile moved across her face, "We have."

His lips moved her hers, a mere brush. "Forgive me for making you feel unable to perform your duty," he whispered.

"What is my duty then, my lord?"

He smiled against her lips, "Being mine."

A laugh came from her, "I'll do my best then."

"Aye. You're already quite good at it."

........................................

@misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, 8812-342, @nyxbranwenn, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest,

#fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones x y/n #game of thrones imagine #house of the dragon #cregan stark x y/n #cregan x reader #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark #cregan stark x female reader #cregan fanfiction

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luveline · 4 months ago

Note

hotch’s daughter and him looking thru baby n childhood pics n realizing just how much they missed angst (her missing out on having a present father n him missing out on raising her)

Aaron’s winded when he sees you that morning. You’re smiling, in sweatpants and a hoodie with a bag on your shoulder that promises an overnight stay, but what hits hardest is the way you light up when he opens the front door. He sees you coming through the window and can’t wait for you to knock.

“Hey, honey, you’re early!” he says.

“I know,” you say, stopping just a paving stone away, “but I got this magic jigsaw for Jack that I thought he’d like. Once you complete it you can move it around and create a new jigsaw in the middle.” You smile. “You look happy. Good breakfast?”

“I’m happy to see you, that’s all.”

You cross that last step. “Thanks, dad.” You bite your bottom lip, ever so slightly bashful.

He literally couldn’t be happier. “Did you eat?”

Aaron brings you inside. Jack is already awake and eating his second breakfast in a meandering picking by the TV.

You love being a big sister. It’s all the more endearing. “Hey, babe. What are you upto?” you ask.

Jack whirls and sends a couple of grapes flying. “Oh my gosh yes!” he says, to your laughter and Aaron’s disbelief. He races across the rug in a blur of blue pyjamas to wrap himself around your thighs, face pressed to your hip. “You’re here!”

“We said Saturday sleepover, right?”

You get down on your knees to hug him. Your arms around his back, your face to his, you aren’t as rough as you could be —how do sisters hug their brothers? Aaron doesn’t know. But you rub his back in a gentle up and down and lower your voice to say hello. “Hi, Jack. You’re happy to see me?”

“I’m so happy.”

“Me too, I’m so happy. I brought you something.”

“A present?” Jack asks, leaning out of your arms.

“Not really, it’s for me and you, but I brought you cookies too.”

“Dad,” Jack says, “can we have some?”

Aaron holds up a finger. One cookie is enough sugar for the morning. “We can have a couple more after dinner tonight, okay?”

You take the cookies from your bag, a huge box of palm-sized cookies, chocolate chips shaped like stars, the best kind of indulgence from the bakery not far from here. Aaron catches a look at the inside of your bag, spying a slim white photo album against your weekly medication divider and the plastic wrapped jigsaw puzzle.

“What’s the album?” he asks.

“Oh.” You slide your thumb along the sticker that seals the cookies and crack them open for Jack to take his spoils. “They’re my baby photos.”

He stills. “They are?”

“And some of me growing up.” You tip your head at him and smile. A little shy, more happy. “I was thinking about Jack, how we both do that chokey laugh when we’re tired, and I wondered if we had any other similarities. And then I realised you’ve never actually seen any of my photos. Would you want to look at them?”

“Please,” he says immediately. “Yes. I’d love to see them.”

You lay the album out on the coffee table. Aaron sits beside you on the couch, and Jack sits on his feet, and together you look through your baby album one page at a time. At first, he’s quiet. He has no idea what to say. You are a beautiful kid, you’re perfect, little baby you with a pacifier on your tummy, or in the summer sun with mud on your little hands, wearing a pink dress with matching canvas shoes and a smile so wide he can see all your baby teeth, or sitting beside a fish tank with a party hat on.

His favourite is a photograph of you that’s been printed oddly, more sepia than colour, where you look to be eight or nine years old. He can see everything in your adult face right there in ink, your smile, the trusting warmth in your eyes when you love the person it’s directed at. Maybe he’s full of himself, but he swears it’s his smile, and Jack’s smile. Hotchner through and through.

“I wish I’d seen you in person,” he says quietly. “Just once.”

You tease the photograph from the plastic sleeve and offer it to him. “Sorry.”

He doesn’t want you to be sorry. Aaron takes the photograph and stares at it against his leg, your little face, your hands behind your back, your left knee wrapped in a bandage. “We missed out on so much,” he says softly.

“I know.”

He places the photo on the armrest, precious and needing a frame. You melt into his arm as he wraps it around your shoulder, and you let him kiss your temple, even if he doesn’t deserve to do it yet. He’s polite about it, he knows his sincerity might feel gratuitous to you —after all, he missed out on so much. But you don’t go rigid at his affection, you just breathe.

“I would’ve loved to have seen it,” he says, too old for tears, and yet a warmth collects behind his eyes anyhow. He won’t cry, only the feeling is there and aching as you move back and give him a typical Hotchner smile. Like he’s being silly, and like you love him.

“It’ll be okay,” you say, “you’ve got, what, a good ten years left? You can see my golden years.”

He laughs suddenly. “Ten? How old do you think I am?”

“You act like you’re nearing seventy.”

“Oh, I do?”

You roll your eyes and lean across the photo album for another cookie. “You do! I wish we didn’t have to wait so long to meet, but it’s not like I’m going anywhere. You won’t find me so charming in a few years, so don’t worry. Now, could you leave me and Jack alone for a bit? I’m trying to sneak him another cookie and you’re getting in the way.”

Aaron hugs you whether you want him to or not, a tight squeeze that you always seem to enjoy, before doing as you’ve asked, promising to find the jigsaw board in the garage so you and Jack can start the newest one.

“Did you miss him?” he hears Jack asks inexplicably.

“Who, dad?” Aaron watches you from the door that leads into the garage. He can only see your hands from this angle, your left one landing on Jack’s shoulder for a small squeeze. “I missed him so much you couldn’t believe it.”

“Thank you for the cookie.”

“You’re welcome! I missed you too, you know? I have to make up for all my lost time being your big sister. Here, you can hide this one in your pocket, if you want. Just don’t forget it’s there.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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euthymiya · 5 months ago

Text

camera roll — ft. ryomen sukuna

sukuna doesn’t appreciate how often his annoying little nephew comes over and takes up your time—until you share a few pictures of you and him to little yuuji. maybe the runt’s starting to grow on him

before you read: fem reader ; non curse au/modern au ; established relationship ; uncle sukuna and nephew yuuji ; mentions of itadori jin and kaori ; mentions of reader wearing heels and being carried by sukuna ; sukuna being a terrible influence to children (and being a softie on the low)

Sukuna doesn’t like children. They’re little troublemakers. They’re nuisances. They take up space and cause chaos. They whine. They cry and kick and scream. They don’t pay bills and eat away at your wallet. They’re clingy and talk a lot. They don’t have jobs and never contribute to the economy. The list goes on.

(You like to point out this mindset is just a byproduct of his upbringing, and that he should heal. He thinks that’s a load of bullshit. He grew up just fine. He doesn’t need to heal from anything—he’s just right. Kids are weird and unsettling).

Yuuji is no exception. The kid is an irritating spawn of his brother—they even have the same smile. Too happy, too nice, too talkative, and too bubbly. So what if Yuuji is his nephew? He doesn’t have to enjoy the runt’s company just because he’s family. (You like to really put emphasis on the family part).

And you’re persistent. You invite the little runt over every chance you get. You always agree to babysitting so his brother can have his date nights and spend quality time with that equally as annoying wife of his. (It’s Jin’s fault for not thinking things through. If he just kept it in his pants, he could easily find time to have dates and spend time with his lousy wife, but no. He decided to knock up the woman and make it Sukuna’s problem too).

It’s an eyesore to say the least to walk into his living room and see a small, useless child curled up in your lap, taking his place where he should be resting his head, and giggling to yourselves.

Irritating. Nauseating. So outright infuriating.

Sukuna hates kids.

“And that’s uncle ‘Kuna and me at the beach,” you grin, ��see that castle? He helped me build it. Don’t tell him I told you that, though or he’ll eat me.”

“Woah,” Yuuji gasps, staring in awe at the photo in your phone. Sukuna’s eye twitches. You promised not to tell anyone he helped you build that stupid sand castle. He just wanted you to be quiet when you kept whining for his help. “Uncle ‘Kuna’s got big muscles!”

“Yeah, he does,” you nod, grinning. You swipe through a few more photos before stopping at another one. Yuuji’s eyes bulge even wider. “See? That’s him at the gym. Sometimes I go and watch him. Doesn’t he look so strong?”

“Uh huh,” the kid nods furiously. “He’s so cool,” he adds, voice laced in admiration.

Well, at least the runt has a brain. He definitely didn’t get it from his father, but it’s there. That’s a start.

“And that’s us on our first anniversary. See how sweet your uncle is? He’s carrying me to the car because my feet were hurting.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes. He told you those shoes would hurt your feet, and then your whining would make it his problem. Evidently everyone he surrounds himself with likes to make things his issue to deal with. And he was right—you did end up whining about those damn heels. (They did make your legs look good, he’ll admit that much. But still, you didn’t need to go through the trouble of wearing them only to bugging him with your complaining. He finds your legs hot regardless of what shoes you wear).

“Uncle ‘Kuna’s so nice,” Yuuji nods, giggling before he looks up at you, poking a chubby finger into your cheek and says, “so pretty!”

“Aw Yuuji,” you grin, “aren’t you the sweetest little man?”

You lean in and press an attack of kisses to the brat’s cheeks. Sukuna crosses his arms and glares at the way the runt laughs in glee at your affection. Who does he think he is, feeling your lips on his skin?

Once you settle down, you pull him flush against your chest again, back pressed to you as an arm wraps around his tiny frame, holding him close.

“Look, this is when we went on our first vacation! See how your uncle likes to sleep on my chest? He says he hates cuddling but he’s a liar.”

“Lies are bad!” Yuuji gasps, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod seriously, “super bad. You’ll always tell the truth right Yuuji? Don’t be like your mean uncle, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, nodding like he means it.

If it was up to him, Sukuna would grab the kid off your lap and set him out on the streets to find his own way home. How dare the brat sit on his couch with his girlfriend and act holier than him?

And it’s not a lie. Sukuna thinks cuddling is stupid. Using your chest is a pillow isn’t cuddling, it’s getting comfortable. You’re the liar.

“And see this one? That’s us having a picnic. You know your uncle ‘Kuna surprised me with that? He can be really sweet, y’know. He just likes to pretend he’s all tough.”

Yuuji giggles again—and then his eyes land on Sukuna at the entrance of the living room, brightening at the sight of him.

Great. He’s been spotted. Just want Sukuna needed after a long day of work. More annoying people.

“It’s uncle ‘Kuna!” Yuuji points his pudgy little finger at him before waving a tiny hand. “You’re back!”

“And you’re still here,” Sukuna’s eyes narrow, “why?”

“That’s no way to greet your nephew, Sukuna,” you scold, earning an eye roll from your boyfriend.

He trudges over, (carefully) pushing Yuuji to scoot over on your lap so he can lay his head where it rightfully belongs on your legs and settle on the couch. He sighs and closes his eyes as your fingers gently weave through his hair.

“Had a long day at work, I don’t need this brat still taking up my space. Tell ‘im to pay bills if he wants to stay so bad.”

“Oh c’mon, he’s been waiting for you all day,” you grin, “haven’t you Yuuji?”

“Uh huh!” The runt nods, leaning down to hover over Sukuna’s face. He opens an eye, peering up at the kid as Yuuji pokes a finger at his cheek. “Wanna play?”

“No,” he grumbles, pretending to bite at the finger.

Yuuji shrieks, pulling it away quickly and earning a low chuckle from Sukuna while you glare.

“Hey!” You scold, “you be nice to—”

“Again! Again!” Yuuji laughs brightly, holding a finger to hover over Sukuna’s lips. You blink and so does he, staring at the child before Sukuna’s lips curl into a small, smug grin.

“If you say so, ya runt.”

He snaps at the tiny finger Yuuji holds over his lips again, this time getting in a (gentle) nibble that makes the child squeal and laugh brightly.

“Uncle ‘Kuna’s gonna eat me,” he laughs.

“S’right, I’ll eat ya like you’re dinner. So quit comin’ over, you wretched brat.”

Yuuji, as innocent and hopeful as a little child is supposed to be, takes Sukuna’s smirk as a sign his uncle is happy to play. So he crawls off your lap, plopping himself to sit on Sukuna’s chest and smile happily down at him while you coo at the sight.

“Oh my gosh, he’s too cute! Sukuna don’t even think about moving—I’m getting a picture. Jin will love it!”

“Don’t take a fuckin’ pic—”

“Do not curse in front of a child!” You follow your scolding with a smack at his head, making him grunt angrily.

“I swear if you get a damn photo of—”

Click.

The sound of your phone’s camera going off cuts him off, silencing him with a wicked glare he sends up at you from your lap. It’s not so menacing when you take in the fact that his hand has securely planted itself at the base of Yuuji’s back, keeping him from falling over.

Sukuna hates children—he reminds you of this fact constantly. He has a soft spot for his little nephew, though. You don’t point it out so he can keep his facade up for his sense of dignity, but you know the facts.

Yuuji’s favorite snacks are stocked up in the cabinets for his arrival today—and you certainly haven’t had a chance to grocery shop this week. A small, tiny little inkling tells you that your boyfriend is developing something of a soft spot for his nephew.

“Look Yuuji,” you grin at the small child, ruffling his hair as you turn your phone to face him, “it’s you and uncle ‘Kuna! Your very own picture together! Isn’t that nice?”

“Yay!” He claps, eyes crinkling excitedly as he smiles happily at the picture.

Sukuna’s eyes soften just a bit before he’s back to frowning, a grumpy crease of his forehead as he huffs.

“I’m sick of this darn brat.”

————— bonus —————

“Fuck!” Yuuji says as he drops his sippy cup.

Sukuna freezes, eyes quickly darting over to you from the sink where he’s washing the dishes. You stop, stilling where you’re clearing the table. Your hand pauses mid air from its path to pick up glass, head slowly turning to look over at the child.

“Yuuji,” you say slowly, “where did you learn that word?”

He better not—Sukuna stares holes into the kid’s head. The runt better not rat him out or he really will eat him. Maybe even do worse. He’d better keep his annoying little mouth shut before—

“Uncle ‘Kuna!” Yuuji points to Sukuna, as if he wants the man to die.

Your eyes instantly glare over at him. Sukuna tenses, clenching his jaw as he shoots a dirty look at his nephew.

“You damn snitch! They ought to teach you about tattling at that fancy day care of yours—”

“Quit yelling at him for your doing! Just you wait till he’s home,” you glower, “I’ll deal with you later.”

Sukuna scowls, returning to washing the dishes with a sulky frown on his face as you bend down and gather Yuuji into your arms.

“Is that awful man being a bad influence on you?” You coo, “he is, isn’t he? Don’t worry, I’ll teach that terrible uncle of yours a lesson, okay? But don’t use that word, Yuuji. Only non self respecting people use that language.”

Yuuji doesn’t even understand what that means, he wants to say. He holds his tongue, though, just to save himself from even a little of your wrath—but the runt is never welcome back to his home again, Sukuna thinks, grumbling to himself under his breath as you offer Yuuji the last of his ice cream.

High key I don’t know how to write children so Yuuji’s parts might be cringe but just look away OKAY

#writing tag #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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lowkeyren · 3 months ago

Text

—childhood sweetheart!

in which : as kids, you gave him a lollipop to thank him for his help, though you had no idea your kind gesture would spark a blossoming friendship —that would soon evolve into something far sweeter than candy.

pairing : alhaitham x gn!reader

wc 3.6k, childhood friends to (implied) lovers, one bittersweet scene but it's 99% tooth rotting fluff, kaveh n sumeru gang cameo!!, art by @/anno_meiji on x. reblogs r much appreciated!!!

@tragedy-of-commons @iceunhie fellow pissoners that told me to @ them + special thanks to beloved @synqiri for giving me ideas when i wrote this, salutations.

the house of daena was quiet, the air thick with the comforting scent of old books and polished wood; soft chatters among akademiya students drifted through the air, a gentle hum that mingled with the rustling of pages as scholars immersed themselves in their studies.

at a corner, you sat cross-legged, surrounded by volumes of scholarly tomes. yet, the real challenge before you wasn’t the big words or thick pages —but a far more irritating one: your shoelaces.

no matter how many times you tried, the laces refused to cooperate. they twisted and knotted themselves in ways that made you feel as if they had a mind of their own. you tugged at them over and over again, your small hands growing clumsy with frustration, making your struggle feel even more monumental.

you let out a small, exasperated sigh, your cheeks growing warm with the mounting irritation. who lets a five-year-old wear shoes with laces anyway?

a few feet away, sitting at a low table, was a boy a few years older than you, absorbed in a thick book that looked far too advanced for his age; the dense text and intricate diagrams didn’t seem to faze him at all. his expression remained one of calm detachment, his eyes moving over the pages meticulously. though even amidst his immersion in the book's complex diagrams and equations, your struggle still drew his attention.

with a sigh that sounded more out of obligation than concern, he set his book aside with precise care and approached you with a smooth, deliberate stride. his expression remained neutral, his eyes barely meeting yours as he knelt beside you.

“you’re having trouble with your laces,” he remarked, his tone even and matter-of-fact.

you looked up and nodded at the boy, relief evident in your eyes. “can you help me?” you asked, your voice wavering slightly with embarrassment.

without a word, he reached for your laces. you watched as he deftly untangled the mess you’d created, his movements precise and unhurried. with a few twists and loops, he had the laces neatly tied in no time. “there,” he said, standing up and brushing his hands off.

“thank you for helping me... um—”

“alhaitham,” the boy, who you now knew as alhaitham, spoke in a calm voice.

you smiled in return, relieved. “thank you, alhaitham.”

“it was nothing. i’m glad i could assist.” he said before glancing down at your shoelaces again, his tone as impersonal as ever.

you reached into your pocket and pulled out a small, brightly wrapped lollipop, its cheerful wrapping seemed almost too vibrant for his reserved demeanour. nevertheless, you held it out to him, “i want to give you this,” you said earnestly. “as a small token of my appreciation!”

he glanced at the lollipop, then back at you. you simply tilted your head in response. after a brief moment, he accepted it with a slight nod. “thanks,” he said simply before pocketing the sweet.

you smiled, “i’m [name], by the way.”

“i’ll remember that,” he replied, his tone softening slightly.

with that, you gathered your books, carefully stacking them in your arms as you rose to your feet. “i need to go now. see you around, alhaitham!” you grinned and gave a small wave before turning to leave, your footsteps growing faint as you walked away.

and though little-you didn’t know it at the time, that small act of kindness, wrapped in bright paper, would linger in his memory for years to come.

years passed. by now, it was clear that alhaitham was a prodigy, the sharpest of minds among those his age —a teenager admired by many, regardless of age. yet, such exceptional talent often attracts a level of jealousy that goes beyond mere admiration.

however, much like his aloof demeanour, he remained indifferent to the opinions and whispers of displeasure of others, even now, as he stood surrounded by students, their voices dripping with sarcasm and disdain.

"so, alhaitham," one of them jeered, "being a genius must be lonely, huh? too smart to have any real friends?" the others snickered along, clearly revelling in his deliberate silence. they envied the recognition and success he had achieved —things they could only dream of, and that envy fueled their petty desire to bring him down, even if only for a fleeting moment.

enough was enough.

“hey, give it a rest,” you interjected, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “oh, wait —it’s not like you have anything better to do than make fun of someone who’s actually achieved something, right?”

the laughter from the group began to die down as they turned their attention to you, the tension in the air thickening.

you tilted your head in feigned curiosity. “or is it the only thing you’re good at?”

the student’s face twisted into a scowl, clearly caught off guard by your retort. after a moment of fumbling for words, he muttered defensively, “whatever. like you’re so perfect yourself.”

you crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow. “seriously? that’s the best you’ve got?”

you met their gazes with a defiant smirk, enjoying the way their bravado faltered under your words. “it’s one thing to have nothing between those ears of yours, but there’s no need to be a jerk about it.”

they hesitated for a moment, stung by your remarks and clearly feeling their egos take a hit, they found themselves at a loss for words. finally, one of them muttered something under his breath before they all turned and slunk away, embarrassed.

as the last of their footsteps faded, you turned back to alhaitham, who was watching you with a slightly raised eyebrow. "you didn’t have to do that," he murmured. you shrugged, offering him a wry smile. "i know. but i wanted to.”

“besides, someone has to keep those idiots in check."

alhaitham regarded you for a moment longer before the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. "thank you.” you caught the subtle shift in his expression, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips. it was rare to see him react this way, and it made your small victory feel all the more rewarding.

you couldn’t help but grin.

“—you smiled!” giggling, you leaned in closer to him, as if sharing a secret. “i didn’t think i’d ever see that day.”

“no, i did not.” his expression snapped back to its usual deadpan, as if his momentary lapse had never happened.

“no? well, then you should smile more.” you slid into the chair next to him,

“why?”

you pulled out your book and opened it to the page marked by your bookmark. “you look good when you smile,” you said casually, your eyes still focused on the material in front of you as you unwrapped a candy and chewed on it, savouring the sweet taste.

alhaitham didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed intently on the pages in front of him. though when he briefly turned his head to the side, his stoic expression faltered.

a faint smile tugged at the edges of his lips; he angled the book slightly higher, hiding his expression from view, while the subtle curve of his lips remained just barely visible.

it was a fleeting moment —nearly imperceptible, but unmistakably there.

“happy birthday, [name]!”

you clink your glass with dehya’s, the sound of the toast ringing out amidst the lively chatter. she grins and downs her drink in one swift motion, her laughter echoing as the others join in, raising their glasses to you.

nilou approaches you with a soft smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “i have something for you,” she says, holding out a small, intricately wrapped box. you open it to find a delicate bracelet nestled inside.

“i hope today brings you as much joy as you bring to us.” you smile and thank her as she helps you fasten the bracelet around your wrist.

you glance over to where alhaitham is sitting, only to find him already looking at you; he gives you a slight nod before burying his face back into his book. though you notice that alhaitham's usual noise-cancelling headphones are conspicuously absent, as if choosing to be fully present, especially when you're near.

suddenly, you feel a tap on your shoulder. when you turn around, you’re greeted with kaveh’s unmistakable grin, “surprise!” he exclaims with a flourish, his voice brimming with infectious enthusiasm. he extends a beautifully hand-carved, ornate wooden box to you, “go on, open it!” he urges, barely containing his excitement.

with a nod, you carefully lift the lid, revealing the contents inside. the box is lined with rich velvet, and nestled within is a tiny, intricately designed music box and a set of miniature sculptures —as expected, his craftsmanship is nothing short of impeccable. you thank him graciously and carefully set the box down on the table beside tighnari’s gift.

as the evening unfolds, you notice alhaitham occasionally glancing up from his book, his gaze fixing on you, each glance subtly drawing your attention. his eyes, typically so absorbed in the pages, now linger on you with a soft intensity that speaks volumes.

it’s obvious that the night has come to an end when you glance to your side and can’t help but chuckle at the sight of kaveh, completely blackout drunk and slumped over the couch.

“don’t worry, we’ll handle him,” cyno heads for the door after lifting kaveh over his shoulder with ease; he shares a knowing glance with tighnari. “enjoy the rest of your night!” with a final wave, they disappear out the door, leaving you and alhaitham alone in the cozy tranquillity of your home.

“looks like it’s just us now,” you say, sinking onto the sofa beside him and stifling a yawn, the night clearly taking a toll on you.

“indeed,” alhaitham replies, his gaze softening as he looks over at you. he reaches behind him and holds his hand out towards you with his fist closed.

“here, a reward for your hard work,” he opens his palm to reveal a small piece of your favourite candy resting on it. “happy birthday, [name].”

the light from the candles flickers softly, casting a warm glow that dances across the room. it bathes the space in a gentle radiance, highlighting the perfect angles of his face and making him look all the more handsome.

alhaitham had never been a big fan of sweets. to him, they were a trivial indulgence, neither particularly enticing nor off-putting.

but for you, he might learn to like it more.

after all, if all it takes is a piece of candy to see your smile —sweeter than any treat known to mankind, then maybe there's a reason to enjoy them after all.

as you begin to nod off, he gently strokes your hair and carefully adjusts your position, guiding your head to rest on his chest.

with a soft sigh, he blows out the candles.

perhaps rationality has its limits when it comes to matters of the heart, for he can’t help but feel that love, in all its irrationality, defies the logic he clings to so fiercely. “love” didn’t follow the neat, predictable patterns of reason —it was wild, unpredictable, and utterly beyond his control.

yet, despite its chaos, or perhaps because of it, he was okay with it —he was okay with you.

“is it necessary for you to leave?”

“sorry haitham, it's for my research. but i’ll be gone for just a few years, and we'll cross paths again before you know it.”

just a few.. years? you must’ve really underestimated how long that’ll feel. he lets out a disapproving huff, his brows knitting together. “...where will you be going?”

“fontaine,” you replied, “the leylines there hold the key to my research, and it’s an opportunity i can’t pass up.” you hesitate for a moment before adding softly, “i wish you could come along… but with your duties as the acting grand sage, i understand that it’s not possible.”

“i suppose you’ve already made up your mind.”

you nodded, trying to muster a reassuring smile. “i have. but i’ll make sure to write whenever i can!” he studies your face for a long moment, as if committing every detail to memory, afraid he’ll forget the moment you turn your back to him.

“just... promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” he finally said, his tone more tender compared to a moment ago. “and don’t lose yourself in your research.”

you reach out, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “i promise, haitham.” you open his palm and place a small candy in the centre before closing his fingers around it. “something to remember me by,” you add, your voice barely above a whisper as you look up at him.

his eyes trail your figure, his hands clutching the candy tightly, the wrapping paper crinkling in his fist as you start to walk away. midway, you pause, turning around to look at him once more, you flash him a warm smile before waving goodbye.

this time, unlike the first time you met, he returns the gesture with a wave of his own.

it’s unusual, uncharacteristic for alhaitham to lose his focus so easily.

the subtle crease in his brow —a dead giveaway to anyone who knew him well; and being his roommate, kaveh noticed it first.

leaning against the table, he glanced at the open book, then back at alhaitham. "you know, that page won’t read itself," he quipped, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

alhaitham didn’t bother looking up, his finger idly tracing the edge of the page. "i’m well aware." after a moment, he finally turned the page with a slight frown, his mind clearly not on the book.

cyno, sitting across from him, folded his arms and leaned back in his seat. "you’ve been staring at that same paragraph for nearly an hour.” he remarks, his tone laced with amusement. tighnari raises his eyebrows, lightly swirling the drink in his cup, “it’s rare to see you this distracted. must be something—or someone—truly exceptional."

alhaitham finally looks up, meeting their gazes with a flat expression, “you all certainly have a lot of free time," he remarked dryly.

cyno shrugs, shaking his head. "you’re just making it too easy, alhaitham."

tighnari, however, leans forward slightly, his gaze softening with genuine concern despite the playful edge in his voice just a minute ago. “but seriously,” he adds, “it’s perfectly fine to admit you miss [name]. we all do, after all, it has been a year.”

alhaitham sighs heavily, closing the book with a soft thud. “i’m perfectly fine."

"sure you are," kaveh drawls, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "it’s not like you’ve been more irritable than usual —or, i don’t know, distracted by a certain someone who’s not here."

for once, alhaitham doesn’t offer a retort. instead, he quietly unwraps a candy and slips it into his mouth, letting its sweet taste wash over him.

but that is all the answer they need.

unbothered from the looks he receives from his friends, he signals the manager over, “boss, a box of macaroons to go, please.”

later that night, alhaitham sits in his room —he absently reaches for the box of macaroons but his hand lands on the bright candy wrapper crumpled on the table, though it seems out of place amidst the quiet room, it remains a perfect, poignant reminder of you, in his heart.

the notion of your sweetness is tantalising, one that mingles with the lingering taste of the macaroons on his palate, making him yearn for the real experience, to discover if you, too, could leave such a lasting impression.

—and truth to be told, i really missed you too. there's so much more i want to share with you, so many things i’ve seen and felt that only you would truly understand. but lucky for us, i’ll be at l'encre des marées in the court of fontaine, for the next few days! haitham, come visit me, will you?

alhaitham’s footsteps echo softly against the cobblestone street as he approaches the address you gave him.

a bookstore, huh. it seems fitting enough.

he folds your letter and slips it into the pocket of his coat; the gentle chime of the bell above the door announces his arrival. the warm, ambient light of the store envelops him —a voice rings out, welcoming him, but he pays it no mind.

he moves silently between the tall bookshelves, his gaze sweeping over the interior, searching for you within the labyrinth of aisles. though with no sign of you in sight, a faint crease forms between his brows, a subtle yet telling sign of his disappointment.

he comes to a stop in front of one of the shelves, the familiar scent of paper and ink wafting around him. might as well get something, he thinks. his hand hovers over the spines, his fingers brushing lightly against them; the choice is almost arbitrary, driven more by habit than intent.

the title barely registers in his mind as he turns away from the shelf. with the book in hand, he makes his way towards the counter. he places the book down with a soft thud, and lets his mind drift to you —your latest letter, the anticipation of seeing you here, the subtle disappointment of your absence; he imagines the sound of your voice, the way you might have greeted him had you been there, the little gestures that are make you, so distinctly, you.

the cashier’s voice pulls him back to the present. “thank you for your patronage!” the words are accompanied by the soft rustling of paper as the bag is handed over to him. he reaches out to take it, but just as he’s about to withdraw his hand, something else is pressed into his palm —a small lollipop.

he blinks, momentarily caught off guard. what? is this a… fontaine custom? he turns the lollipop over in his hand, the cashier’s voice continues, cheerful and slightly sing-song. “don’t forget to visit us again—”

or is he losing his mind? because the sound of your voice, so clear and familiar, “—alhaitham.” echoes his name as if you were standing right infront of him.

his eyes snap up, eyes widening ever so slightly as he looks at the cashier. and there you are, behind the counter, your gaze meeting his with a familiar warmth. he finds himself staring at you, the very person he had been hoping to see; you smile at him, the same smile he had imagined countless times... and his heart still skips a beat.

“life here in fontaine has been quite a journey.” you stroll side by side, alhaitham listens quietly, absorbing every detail as you recount your journey. your research, originally projected to take more time, has progressed exceptionally well; the results are promising, and you’re now ahead of schedule, which means that you’ll be back in sumeru in less than a week’s time (much to his pleasure).

as you both turn a corner, you suddenly stop and turn to face him. “i’ve been doing all the talking so far,” you smile up at him, “what about you?”

“nothing much, things have been…” he begins, pausing as he searches for the right words. he glances around, just as street lamps flicker to life before continuing, “...rather routine.”

(he’s not lying, no, never to you. “routine” as in routinely thinking about you nonstop —yes, that’s the underlying meaning, though his outward implication is quite… mundane.)

though what you didn’t quite expect next was for alhaitham to extend his hand towards you, his pinky raised in a gesture like an earnest request for a pinky promise. dumbfounded, you chuckle softly, “what’s this for?”

without waiting for an answer, you decide to indulge him, linking your pinky with his. as your thumbs briefly touch, you catch the look in his eyes —serious, yet with a softness that makes your heart skip. “a promise that i’ll be by your side as long as sugar tastes sweet,” he says, his voice low and sincere.

he gently turns his hand downward, his fingers sliding smoothly between yours, interlocking them in a firm yet tender grip. slowly, he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the back of it. “so, come back with me, [name].”

his thumb continues to trace lazy circles on your skin, drawing you closer. leaning in, his breath is warm against your cheek, the space between you vanishes as he tilts his head slightly, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours, close enough that you can almost taste the promise in his words.

his eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up. you catch his gaze and a small smile starts to form, “you don’t have to ask me twice.”

your eyes flutter shut as his lips brush softly against yours —and he tastes the first bite of a sun-warmed strawberry, a burst of sweetness that lingers on his lips, leaving him craving more. utterly intoxicating, like the scent of honey carried on a warm breeze, filling the air with a fragrance that makes him close his eyes and breathe deeply, savouring the moment.

you taste just like summer —vivid, unforgettable, and leaving him yearning for those endless days and nights, where his world is alive with sparking memories he clings to as the seasons change; so much so that even when autumn's chill begins to settle, he can't help but reach out for the warmth that only your presence can bring.

but most importantly,

you taste unbelievably sweet.

good question google

MASTERLIST.

#✧renwrites!#—stellaronhvnters.#alhaitham x reader #al haitam x reader #alhaitham x you #al haitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin x y/n #alhaitham genshin #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin impact #alhaitham

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planetxiao · 4 months ago

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# HAPPINESS FOR TWO

𖤐 umemiya hajime ; suo hayato ; sakura haruka x reader

⟢ fluff, scenarios // when their friends realized you’re good for each other.

𖤐 UMEMIYA HAJIME

Damn it all.

Hiragi wasn’t sure how, but he managed to make it home without realizing he didn’t have his antacid tablets on him. He checked – double checked – each of his pockets, but alas, they were gone. He sighed. There was only one place he thought it could be: back on the rooftop of Furin High.

He wasn’t usually forgetful, but it had been a long day, he supposed. That unnecessarily big fight took a lot out of him.

It was like any other day, another leader of a gang demanding to fight Umemiya, except this guy was too persistent about it. In fact, all of his men seemed to have been of one mind. In the end, Umemiya gave him the fight he wanted. Of course, the white haired Bofurin leader reigned victorious, but he didn’t leave the fight unscathed. No one did. That being said, everyone was fine; they just left with minor cuts, scrapes, and bruises.

A meeting on the rooftop was held after the fight, each captain and vice captain giving their report before leaving for the day. That was when he must’ve set them down.

Hiragi trudged all the way back to Furin High, stomach turning at the possibility of getting roped into Umemiya’s antics again – if he was still there, anyway. The sun was about to set, and all of that day’s teams were on their last patrol shift.

He had half a mind to kick down the door in irritation, but he resigned to pushing it open. With his hands stuffed in his pockets, Hiragi’s eyes peeled this way and that to look for the very guy whose mere mention gave him indigestion in the first place.

Left, clear. Right, clear. A breath of relief… let out too soon.

Hiragi took one step before freezing. Sat at the picnic table about 15 feet away was Umemiya and someone he recognized to be his partner.

Hiragi had seen you a couple times before. You would come to bring Umemiya lunch from time to time, and he would show you all of the plants he was growing in return. He really didn’t know anything about you but your name, nor did he ever feel the need to know more than that.

That was probably his fifth time seeing you. You both straddled the bench, facing each other, with your legs pulled over Umemiya’s. His hands rested on your hips as you gently wiped a cotton pad over the scratches on his face. Umemiya gazed at you with eyes that held nothing but love in them and a smile so easily made, like that of a dreamer stuck within his fantasies.

“Hajime, how many times have I asked you to be careful?” You sighed.

He laughed bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck, “Sorry, Sorry! I tried, I really did!”

You applied a large bandage to the cut on Umemiya’s cheek, shaking your head lightly.

“I know. I just worry about you.”

“I know, my love,” He cupped your face, “But, it’s okay. I’m okay! You don’t need to worry, I’ll always come back to you, okay?”

It was almost picturesque, the way you melted together like chocolate under the setting sun. Your forehead rested against his while he interlocked his fingers with yours. Hiragi felt bad watching the scene unfold in front of his eyes.

You giggled, “That was so cheesy, you dork.”

“What?! I thought it was romantic!”

He would rather eat his own shoe than admit this to anyone, but Hiragi smiled at the sight of Umemiya holding his world in the palm of his hands. He seemed to have found his true other half, someone that understood and cared for him in the way Umemiya deserved.

The creak of the rooftop door closing was heard by both you and Umemiya, the only sign that Hiragi was ever there.

He’d come back for those tablets later.

𖤐 SUO HAYATO

Shouts bellowed down the street, drawing a crowd. It’s not unnecessarily unusual for a fight to break out there, but the people of the town watch as if it was the first time. Onlookers lined the walls of the narrow street close to the action.

Sakura and Nirei had been walking to meet up with Suo on their day off. They agreed to meet outside of Kotoha’s cafe at noon, but Sakura and Nirei were running late. As for why, well, Nirei had to take the time to go all the way to Sakura’s apartment and wake him up because he had overslept. Let’s just say Nirei had a rather stressful morning.

The fast shuffling of feet caught Sakura’s attention. He quirked a brow, looking up from his shoes to see a group of people in the distance. Some of them had been sent flying back in different directions, piquing Sakura’s curiosity.

What the hell? There’s a fight right now?

The itch of annoyance Sakura felt from that morning had him rearing to go. Nirei gulped. However, a comment from one of the onlookers was what sent them running towards the crowd.

“Hey, isn’t that eyepatch guy from Bofurin?”

Suo was in it?

They pushed through the crowd to see for themselves. Sure enough, they recognized the tassel earrings whipping in the air before they could even see their friend’s face. From the look of it, there weren’t that many foes left, and he had someone fighting alongside him.

You and Suo were back to back, taking one guy after another. Your movements mirrored each other as if watching a master and student. While your actions were more limited and practiced, Suo’s refined moves looked purely instinctual. He drew in his opponents with a mere look and had them on their backs within seconds. It was a violent dance that you both had invited your foes to.

Sakura and Nirei watched in shock, seeing these men drop like flies. It was ridiculous, this wasn’t a fight. There was no struggle from both sides, only one.

There were only two left, and Suo seemed to sense foul play heading in your direction. The sun gleamed off the metal bat that reeled back in front of you. You gasped. You weren’t used to fighting against weapons. Hell, you weren’t even that used to fighting in general. The guy smirked, swinging as hard as he could. But, the path of the bat was abruptly stopped as Suo flew through the air, swiftly kicking the guy in the face. The metal bat hit the ground with a clang, the owner flying back into a wall before crumbling onto the ground.

Suo’s venomous gaze lingered for a second on the man who sought to hurt you, though another one charged at him from behind. You called out his name – a warning hot on your lips. Suo took notice of the impending presence, but before he could turn and deal with the person, the crisp sound of a fist connecting with skin rang in his ears. Suo looked back, seeing the guy unconscious on the ground with most likely a broken nose.

Cheers erupted in the street, praising Suo and his partner in taking down the brutes. Sakura stuffed his hands in his pockets with a huff, while Nirei beamed at the two of you.

“Wow! I wonder who that person is. Do you know, Sakura?”

“No idea.”

As Nirei was about to approach them, he watched Suo take your hand in his and examine your bleeding knuckles.

You laughed bashfully and shrugged, “I improvised.”

Suo smiled softly, raising his other hand to caress your burning cheek.

“You did well, my dear.”

Oh! Oh.

Nirei whipped his head back to Sakura, about to shout about how Suo had a secret romantic partner, but stopped when he saw Sakura’s wide eyed blush. When Nirei turned back around, he saw Suo leading you into Kotoha’s cafe with a hand on the small of your back. Your head nestled in the crook of his neck.

The blond couldn’t help the way his lips curled. He ran after the two, pulling out his small notebook. That was the first time he had seen you, but he could tell you were special to Suo and he to you. You two made one hell of a good team. A scary one, but good nonetheless.

He just hoped he and Sakura would never do anything to piss you off.

𖤐 SAKURA HARUKA

Nirei was pacing.

“Where could he be? He’s never disappeared for this long before. One day, sure. But three? Something’s wrong. I just know it.”

Suo placed a hand on Nirei’s shoulder, a friendly smile remaining on his face. He understood that Nirei worried about Sakura as much if not more than anyone else at Furin High, but biting his nails over the issue wasn’t going to fix it. Ever the voice of reason, Suo spoke calmly to his friend.

“Relax, Nire-kun. The last time Sakura was gone, he was sick in his home, right?”

Nirei looked up at Suo, concern furrowing his brow.

“That’s the thing. I checked his apartment yesterday and he wasn’t there.”

Suo hummed. An interesting turn of events. He doubted that Sakura would just up and disappear – he could’ve just been out when Nirei came around. There’s an explanation for everything, after all. Sakura’s strong, it’s not likely he was kidnapped or anything of the sort. He was probably just sick again. Even so, it wouldn’t be good if Sakura was ill and wandering around…

“I see. Then why don’t we check one more time?”

Nirei nodded and turned on his heel, making a bee-line out of the classroom with Suo following behind.

Nirei kept a brisk pace. He was always at least three steps ahead of Suo, who kept his normal pace. It was Suo’s second time coming up on the desolate complex. The scenery was less surprising this time around, but the tattered place was eerie all the same.

They knocked once, twice, thrice, receiving no answer each time. Suo’s hand grasped the knob, remembering how it was unlocked last time they came to check on Sakura, and turned it. The door opened with a ghostly creak, no sign of life anywhere in the room. Suo called for Sakura. Still no answer.

“Sorry for the intrusion,” Suo murmured, deja vu creeping over him.

Nirei followed. Suo slid the door to the main room open and was greeted by nothing, Sakura’s futon rolled away haphazardly in the corner. Not even his uniform hung where it was last time. Nirei began to wring his hands. Where the hell could Sakura have gone?

“Huh, he’s still not here,” Suo wondered aloud before turning to his worried friend, “Have you tried asking his partner if they’ve seen him?”

“No, I don’t have any way to contact them.”

The brown haired boy had an inkling that he knew where Sakura might be.

That was how they wound up on your doorstep after the sun had set. They had seen you quite a few times, even coming with Sakura to see you once or twice. Sakura had told them each time not to come, but of course his friends were curious about his partner. Suo would insist, while Nirei would just follow.

Like earlier, they knocked on the door and awaited a response. If he wasn’t here, Nirei was going to lose his mind.

The knob turned. Nirei didn’t waste a second.

“Hello, sorry for the bother, but have you seen-”

A hand covered his mouth, surprising him. When he looked up at you with wide eyes, you simply held your finger over your mouth, signaling him to keep quiet. Suo peered through the door behind you and understood.

Surrounded by various medicine bottles and a tissue box laid Sakura, sound asleep. His monochromatic hair splayed in different directions, twirled together in some spots like yin and yang. Nirei and Suo could see his reddened nose and cheeks from where they stood at the door. All tell tale signs of Suo’s confirmed suspicion. Taking one last peek, Suo and Nirei chuckled at Sakura’s sleeping form, a trickle of drool peeking from the corner of his ajar mouth.

You stepped outside with the two boys, closing the door behind you.

“Sorry Nirei, I didn’t want him to wake up. What’s going on?”

“Has Sakura been here for the past three days?” Nirei asked.

You nodded.

“He started feeling sick while he was here a couple days ago, so I’ve been taking care of him. He’s doing better though, his fever finally broke just before you came actually. Should be up and moving by tomorrow.”

Nirei breathed a sigh of relief. Sakura was fine, he could finally relax his tense shoulders. Suo’s usual kind smile melted into something softer after hearing your explanation. An unspoken thought was shared between the two boys as they glanced at each other. The heavy feeling of deja vu had dissipated because something was different this time.

Thank god Sakura has you.

note: i’m actually pretty happy with how these turned out :D also in suo’s, if not implied well, he taught you those moves :3 i hope their characterizations are all okay!!

#wind breaker x reader #umemiya hajime x reader #umemiya x reader #suo hayato x reader #suo x reader #sakura haruka x reader #sakura x reader

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moondirti · 1 month ago

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johnny wears his sense of duty like a gold-gleaming badge of honour. and if you were to ask any one of his doting relatives, they'd tell you that indeed, he's a stand-up lad. the best our clan’s got tae offer.

johnny hones his sense of duty like a sword of high-carbon steel. his brothers in arms each have a story to credit their continued survival to him. carried me out the crash site while under heavy fire. anyone else would have left me for dead.

johnny wields his sense of duty like a heat-resistant kevlar shield. that is to say, do enough good for God and He will align your interests.

the train is empty and the hour is late. any partner worth their salt would not let you be here alone under these conditions – in your condition. he thinks it says something about your lack of one. or he's just hoping; just testing the line that marks how far he's willing to go.

he's antsy in his seat across the car. his right leg jumping, and not for their jostling along the tracks. a weight like a stone grows heavy in his crotch. he itches to adjust it, to pull his cock up under his waistband. but he's also staring, has been staring, and while he doesn't think you've noticed yet, you definitely will when the strange man donning fatigues sticks his hands down his pants.

there's a level he knows not to reach for while this exposed. johnny would rather keep his reputation shiny in the eye of the public. likes the praise too much to consider damaging it, like a dog stowing his messes under the couch.

so he sits, twitching but patient. a good old boy. sniffs. rests his elbows on his knees and squeezes his legs together to slyly grind into himself. he imagines what you must smell like between those soft legs of yours, imagines rubbing his face against the gusset of your underwear to soak himself in the scent. he's no stranger to pussy, he wonders if it tastes any different. his stare flattens over your calves. he tries to gather some phantom estimate in the salivate coating his tongue.

he thumbs the latin cross pendant he wears around his neck. God answers with a particular rough shake of the train car.

having already been fixated on your bottom half, he's one of the first to notice. second to only you, of course. a surge of water gushes out between your legs, splattering across the floor to become a puddle underneath your feet. your darling little face drops, eyes blowing comically wide as your hand slaps over your mouth in disbelief. the man standing next to you stumbles away, lifting his shoes to check for any damage. an old lady tuts.

and then, silence. no one does anything but stare.

johnny jumps from his seat, jogging to hover over you.

"ye awright, hen? aww, aw, c'mon. it's okay, y'wee thing. shhhh," he helps you up out of your seat, smoothing one hand down your back and the other over your heavy belly. one look at his clothing, at the MTP print that could only mean one thing, and you're leaning your full weight into him, blinking back a barrage of tears.

"s-sor– i'm so sorry. i– i think... think that was– my water broke." you sniff, tucking your face into his side to hide from the useless muppets surrounding you. he feels a swell of pride stretching the walls of his chest. his cock hasn't stopped throbbing despite the commotion.

"naebody faults ye for it. a’natural. a blessin', aye?" he says, not before clearing his throat of the lust he's sure coats it. "have ye got a birth plan? any hospital ye've made preparations wi'?"

"n-no." you shake your head. your voice is muffled between his layers of clothing, and he notices the gooseflesh of your skin just then. he's slipping his coat off within seconds, draping it over your shoulders, then combs the sweaty baby hairs off your temple. his fingers look rough, too big, against the dewy stretch of your forehead.

"there’s one near the next station. we’ll get aff there. ah’ll stick wi' ye, bonnie. ye dinnae have tae worry aboot a thing but yersel'."

and you nod, because of course you do. he's got commitment practically tattooed right there on his arm, alongside the SAS emblem and the cursive 141 gaz made him get on a dare. and johnny peddles that sense of duty like the psyops they've been taught to watch out for — to cover up the fact that it's a commitment to the wrong thing.

(he'll stick with you, alright.)

#tw pregnancy #brought to you by my months long writers block #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader

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niceonejames7 · 5 days ago

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watermelon pyjamas

sirius realises he is, in fact, in love with you. (a classic oh. oh no. moment) part 2

words: 1.3k

genre: fluff

cw: none

a/n: i understand why classic tropes are classic. they're fun to write. if y'all have suggestions lemme know

.......

Sirius didn't believe his friends when they would say he's in love with you.

“You blokes just can't appreciate our friendship.” He would defend himself.

"Mate, she's our friend too." James would reason, “You're the only one being ‘accused’” He put the last word in air quotes, showcasing the ridiculousness of Sirius' own words.

It's not as if he's never acknowledged how pretty you are. Of course he has, he'd be a fool not to. But to him, acknowledging this fact was as if he'd been asked to confirm if the sky was blue. There's no doubt about it.

Sirius would deny it in front of his friends, but it's another truth how he feels when he comes home in the evening after you've already arrived. Sometimes he would purposely be late, so he could come home to you. Opening the door is a hassle, he reasoned with himself.

But truly, the reason was you. Some days, you'd be in the kitchen in his shirts, wearing ankle high socks which made him want to squeeze you to death, he could never find a reason why. Another day, you'd be in the living room watching some other show, waiting for him to come home so you both can finally watch the show you both like. Sometimes you're fast asleep, then he can cover you with a blanket and watch you get cosy.

One day, he came home to find you doing a performance with a spatula as your mic, paying his arrival no mind, an open invitation to join. He'd taken off his shoes and joined the stage, the neighbours weren't impressed.

He likes coming home to you. He loves coming home to you. It's a foreign feeling after growing up in a house where his presence was dreaded. He would be late to come home to avoid staying there, now his reason to be late was entirely different.

On the rare occasion that he was the first one home, he'd be in the kitchen, looking to make anything you like. But he resorts to what he knows and makes some chocolate chip cookies, the most baking he's ever been successful at.

All these days, Sirius chalked up the overwhelming feeling in his heart as the change of pace in his life. How your presence has changed the meaning of certain things. That maybe he wants to fall asleep in your arms is because he's been starved of it. Maybe he wants to spoil you because he can, he wants to buy every one of his friends everything they desire. He wanted to call all of his friends angel, sweetheart, my love. But they were only ever uttered for you, but that was an (open) secret. Maybe he wants to run his hands through your hair because he was bored of his.

His reasons had stopped making sense after a while.

Today was different.

Today he couldn't find a reason for the want in his heart, the uncertainty of his hands, his flickering gaze to your lips.

Sirius had come home after a stroll on his bike. You weren't home, he thought, his usual reason. He knocked on the door, but it was already open. He felt odd, but entered the house, locking the door behind me. You were nowhere to be seen. Not on the couch, in the kitchen, or in the bedrooms. He called out for you and heard a muffled shout from the bathroom, “I'm in the shower. I'm done, actually."

He chuckled but sighed, relieved. He threw his keys on the living room table, which he realised he still held.

He pulled his hair back in a bun and took off his shoes and jacket.

He had changed into more comfortable clothes, the fatigue of the day setting in. Drying his face off the water still remaining as he entered the shared space, he stopped in his tracks.

You were drying your hair in a towel, flipping through channels with one hand. You wore light pink pyjamas, with watermelons printed on them, a simple light pink tee to match, green socks on your feet.

Sirius had stopped as if you'd been dressed up to go to some gala, with your hair done in a glamorous dress. He would've stopped in his tracks then too.

But he saw you like this, and his heart started beating erratically. His feet were forcing him forward but he kept them still, his hand still on his face. He'd like to feel the skin under your shirt, it might be cold or warm. To run his hands over your form, maybe tickle you with kisses on your neck, wrap your legs around him.

It all felt too overwhelming.

But this was all because he liked your new pyjamas, right?

Right?

That's the stupidest excuse he had ever came up with.

Oh.

Oh no.

James was right.

This isn't very friendly, Sirius realised, and it hasn't been friendly for a long while. Nothing Sirius feels right now is friendly. His thoughts are too far gone to be friendly, he has to make an effort to stop them from escalating.

He face-palmed, creating a ‘thump’ which caught your attention.

“Oh, hi." You smiled, nothing out of the usual.

Oh hell fucking no.

“You alright?" You ask, tilting your head which made him want to scream into his pillow.

He nodded, though he wasn't very aware of his actions.

“Are you sure? You've been standing there with your hand on your face and staring. I thought you became a statue.” You said laughingly, shooting him a mock suspicious look before turning towards the TV, again.

Sirius didn't take the hand off his face to hide his warm blushing skin, which had most definitely gotten red. How will he explain why he was red in the face while the water still hadn't dried off?

“New pyjamas?" He asks, his voice quieter than usual, monotonous.He felt if he spoke too loud he'd give it away, his voice would squeak. There's nothing to give away, shut up, you idiot, he debates.

Your face lit up and Sirius debated whether he loved that or hated it, because it was a stark reminder of what he's been in denial of.

“Yes! Do you like ‘em?" You ask, stretching a little part of your pants like it's a dress. I should be stretching those pants, he shakes off the thought. He doesn't even know what he means.

“Yeah, they're cute." Sirius pauses, “Really cute." He tries to downplay it. you look so fucking cute it's driving me insane, he thinks, but he keeps that part to himself.

Your grin gets wider, if that's possible, “Thanks." You say shyly, little droplets falling off your hair, which made the back of your t-shirt wet. Sirius wanted to dry your hair off himself, you should just sit there, looking pretty.

Sirius felt like this was it, this is where he dies. He's gonna stand there, and have a heart attack with how much he's panicking.

A ringing sound broke his trance, he and you both realised it was your phone.

“Ugh, who's calling now?" You complain, before going to your room to talk.

Sirius walks himself to the couch and sits down, still reeling from the onslaught of emotions.

He bent down, elbows resting on his knees as he hid his face in his hands.

Sirius had been in denial, coming up with nonsensical reasons to his thoughts. He had thrown away the stray thoughts of his mind, brushed off the fleeting thoughts of your lips on his, his on yours, your jaw, your hands. The feel of your hands running through his hair, the consistent want to be near you. He could never find a reason for them, so he just avoided them.

He avoided them too often to his liking.

He laughed, at his own stupidity and possibly on how pathetic he was. All this time, he'd been avoiding his own reality, and it only took some watermelon themed pyjamas to bring him to his senses. It made sense, he realised. Why wouldn't he be in love with you?

James is going to have a field day with this.

Sirius Black was in love with you. This time he'd blame watermelons for the yearning in his chest. But he knows better now.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black drabble #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black #hp marauders #the marauders #marauders era

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