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jarofstyles · 3 months ago

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Pierced

Hi my ducklings! So this is part 2 of Pierced Through The Heart but it can be read as a standalone! I'm sorry it took me so long I've been hella depressed lol. I hope you lover her!

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WC- 4.4k

Warnings- mention of needles, piercing is done/described, oral sex

“Alright… So tell me honestly. No bullshit. How badly does this hurt?” Swinging her legs on the bench, she watched her boyfriend gather what he needed for the piercings.

After becoming his official girlfriend- which hadn’t taken very long- she was quick to cash in on her free piercing promise. The first had been a cartilage piercing, but this was definitely a bigger decision.

Her nipples.

Harry looked up from his preparations, a smirk playing on his lips as he saw the hidden nervousness in her eyes. She liked to play tough but he knew how she was. He didn’t tease her about it too much, but he knew. “It really depends. I’ve had a lot of people who say it doesn’t hurt nearly at all, some who say it does, but only a few who have passed out from it. But I’ll make it quick, promise. And afterwards, you’ll have something beautiful to show for it.”

“I mean, I think I’ve got a good pain tolerance.”

The shop was closed for the day, leaving only Harry and Y/N in the place. It was quieter than she would have imagined, only the noise of their chatting and the soft music on the radio in the back. It had been louder when she came to get her cartilage done when she had brought lunch for both of them a few weeks back. “Hey. wait.” Her brow raised. “Have you ever fucked a customer?”

“Well fuck, come right out with it then.” Harry chuckled at the sudden change in topic, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. Her lack of filter was something he did like about her though. “No, love, can’t say I have.” He walked over to where she was sitting on the bench, leaning against the wall next to her.

He reached out and brushes a strand of hair out of her face, his fingers gently tracing along her jawline. “But I have to say, the idea of fucking a customer who sits on this very bench, getting pierced by my hands, is a pretty tempting one.”

Y/N felt her face heat, his blatant flirtation still getting to her and making her feel giddy. Once the confession had been made, he had fallen completely into loverboy mode- with a libido that she heavily enjoyed the benefits of. “Hm.” It pleased her that he hadn’t had anyone here. She would have been jealous… but knowing he was flirting with the idea of doing it with her? That was a welcomed answer. “Maybe if you’re good and be nice to me when you pierce my tits, I’ll consider it.”

He was always oh, so nice to her. He worshipped her, really. It was insane, actually, sometimes making her wonder if her previous lovers actually liked her at all because the way Harry treated her seemed so genuine and second nature and yet so enamored that she was shocked. The smirk on his lips as he placed the sanitized packaging down on the table beside them made her tummy flip. “Oh, love, I promise I’ll be extra gentle when I pierce those perky little nipples of yours. They’re my favorite too, y’know.”

“Mmm.” She pursed her lips to hold back a. grin. “You better. I’m delicate, you know.”

Harry chuckled lightly, moving away from her ear and looking into her eyes. He raised a hand to cup her chin, gazing at her like she was the only thing he wanted to look at in this whole world. She sorta was. “Alright, delicate flower. Take that top off and let me see those tits.”

Y/N couldn’t help her laugh, shaking her head as she undid the buttons of her shirt. Harry was the professional here, so he had given her the rundown on how it was going to work- including the fact that he couldn’t play with them for a while after to make sure they healed properly. He had mourned that but quickly got over it when he imagined her, audibly, having them pierced. Theh would suit her incredibly well.

“I’m still sad you’ll have to keep your mouth off of them for a while.” She pouted, opening her shirt to expose her breasts to him. “What a shame.”

Harry chuckled as he watched her, finding her cute when she pouted—he wanted to kiss that pout, but could stop himself from doing so. He stared at her bare breasts longingly, nodding at what she had said. "I know, it is a shame. I’ll get back to it soon enough, though."

Reaching out, he gently took one of her nipples between his fingers, giving it a soft pinch before letting go and reaching for the other. He did the same, his thumbs rolling over the sensitive buds as he admired them. "Fuck, they really are perfect. I'm going to love piercing these."

The touch had her squeezing her legs together. While it wasn’t the most pleasant thing to remember that her boyfriend had his hands on plenty other breasts when he had to pierce them, she assumed he wasn’t as liberal with the touching as he was now. “God, that feels nice.” She whispered, letting the shirt fall off her shoulders.

Harry's gaze darkened at the sight of her bare breasts, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. He realized he was getting a little ahead of himself, but he couldn't help it—she was just too captivating. "Yeah?" He smirked at her, letting go of her nipples before reaching up to play with her breasts in their entirety. He lifted them, feeling their weight in his hands, gently massaging with his fingers. He couldn't wait to do the same with the barbells in them.

“H….” Y/N’s voice was scolding but barely so, breathy as she leaned her head back and watched as he held them in his palms. His big fucking hands that felt so good whenever he touched her. “You’re being dirty… I hope you aren’t like this with your paying clients.” She teased.

Letting out a laugh, his thumbs brushing over her nipples as he teased them. "Oh, M’always the most professional with my clients. But with you...I can't help myself." He leaned in closer to whisper in her ear, his breath warm on her skin as he added "You're the only one I can be dirty with, Y/N. The only one I can touch however I want, say whatever I want. And right now, I want to bury my face between your tits and not come up for air."

“D’you think you should?” She whispered. “You know… Cause you’re not gonna be able to for a while while they’re healing… feel kinda bad that your favorite toys are gonna be for looking and no touching.”

"I do think about it, believe me. I fucking hate that they'll be out of bounds for a while." He nuzzled into her neck, groaning softly as he pressed a kiss to the skin. "But at the same time, I'm fucking thrilled to get to see these beauties every day, even if it means no touching."

“You are insane.” She widened her thighs for him to stand between her legs. “Luckily, I like it. So I give you permission to suck on them a little bit… one last taste for a bit.”

Harry's eyes lit up, and he didn't waste a moment in moving to comply with her request. He leaned forward, capturing one of the nipples between his lips and sucking gently. He could feel her arching into him, moaning softly as he teased the sensitive flesh.

Y/N let out a soft moan, the cool metal of his tongue piercing brushing against the pebbled nipple. his large hand held her breast in his hand, keeping it where he wanted as she leaned back on her hand, giving him access to her chest. “God, that piercing is the best thing you’ve done to yourself.” His tongue was the best one.

Harry chuckled softly against her skin, switching to the other nipple and giving it the same treatment. He was relishing in this moment, savoring the taste of her on his tongue. "I knew you'd like it." he murmured, his words vibrating through her breast.

Holding it still, giving his tongue free reign to tease the the sensitive skin. He could feel her heart beating faster under his touch, her breath hitching as he played with her. It was so lovely that his pleasure in giving was just as appreciated in receiving.

To Y/N, every movement of Harry's tongue sent sparks shooting directly to her cunt. It was as if every nerve ending in her body was concentrated on the tips of her tits, and the cool metal only heightened the sensation. With gentle yet firm sucks and teasing licks, he had her sensitive nipples hardened and tingling, the sensation making her arch into his face. One hand held the back of his neck, her own head falling back as he switched back to the other nipple.

“Jesus…” She laughed breathlessly as his teeth grazed the swollen skin. “Careful, baby. You’ve still got t’pierce it. Don’t make me too sensitive.”

Harry chuckled against her skin, pulling back slightly. "You think m’new at this? I know my girl’s tits, baby." He said, smirking as he pressed his forehead to hers. "I know just how far to push it."

“Mhm.” She narrowed her eyes at him, reaching up to wipe some of his spit from the corner of his mouth. It was shocking how dirty he could get, considering how clean every other part of his life was. “Let’s go then. I gave you your time. I want my nipples pierced.”

Adjusting his position, albeit with a slight pout, he reached for the tray of sterilized needles and other equipment to get it all ready. He didn’t forget the main objective. "Yes ma'am, we’ll get right to it." He sighed, playfully saluting her.

It took little time before she had Harry carefully cleaning her nipples with a medicated wipe, making sure every inch of skin was prepped for the piercing. He then applied a small amount of numbing gel to minimize any discomfort, massaging it into her nipples with gentle fingers. He tried to innocently say it was to help it work better but she only had to give him a look before he let it be.

“Alright, darlin’. Gonna be just like how I told you, okay?” Giving her a reassuring smile, he settled in front of her. “S’gonna pinch, but it’ll be over quickly. When I start to do it, let out and breat through your nose.” Harry's hands were steady as he picked up the needle, focusing on her left nipple first. He pinched the skin lightly with a sterile clamp, ensuring that her piercing would be straight and perfect. He then aligned the needle, giving her the instruction to give her exhale before pushing it quickly through her skin.

She winced slightly as the needle pierced her skin, but Harry was right there to soothe her. He quickly attached the short piece of jewelry and moved to her other nipple, repeating the process. This time around, she knew what to expect and took it better than before.

Her agony lasted just a moment, but he didn't feel right about letting her endure pain alone. Once her nipples were pierced and the jewelry sturdily in place, he was thorough, making sure everything was clean and sanitary before removing his gloves and gripping her chin and placing a soft peck to her lips. “You, lovely, took that better than most people I’ve ever pierced.” His words were genuine. Y/N really had taken it better than grown men had.

“Really?” Her eyes had teared up a bit during the process and yeah- it had hurt.. But it was tolerable enough. She could feel it throbbing as the new piercings adjusted, Harry helping her pull her shirt back on. He had taken the liberty to button her top back, making her grin at how second nature it was for him. Harry liked to take care of her in any way, she was finding out more and more each day.

His thumb stroked over her cheek to wipe away a stray tear, letting out a little hum. "Yeah, honestly, you did amazing. I'm proud of you. Fuck, I bet you're a beautiful crier, aren't you?"

Y/N laughed, shaking her head as she caressed his jaw. The beard was growing in and she loved how it felt under her fingers as she ran them over his face. “You tell me everything I do is beautiful. I think you’re biased.”

Harry's heart warmed as she caressed his jaw. He fucking loved the feeling of her fingers against him. It had become second nature now for her to touch as she pleased and he couldn’t get enough of it. He leaned into her touch, nuzzling her hand with his cheek before pulling it down to kiss her knuckles. "Yeah, m’totally fucking biased, but why the hell wouldn't I be?" He smirked down at her, stilling her hands and placing them both around the back of his neck before stealing another kiss. "I think you're beautiful, amazing, fuckin’ hilarious, smart as hell… sexy.” He smirked, making her scoff. “No, none of that. I mean every word.” Cradling her cheek, he took a moment to look at her before his eyes drifted down to his now covered work on her tits. “And M’more than honored that now a piece of my work is on your body.”

He watched as she looked down at her covered chest, he could tell she was admiring the work even while covered. "How do you feel?" He inquired lightly.

“I’m good.” It wasn’t really a pain now more than a soreness. But what she hadn’t expected was how it had… sort of turned her on. That pain and the reminder of it made her wake in a different way. Sure, they’d fucked around a bit and he had spanked her and stuff, but this sort of pain was different. Add in the fact that he had said in a fuck drunk lusty spiel against her ear the night before that he was horny over being the one to give her the piercing because it would feel like another claim to her, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

So naturally, it was time to do something about it.

“I think you did a good job… so I think it’s time for your tip.” A mischievous smirk lit up her lips as she slowly slid to the floor from the bench, knees on the tile as she reached for his belt.

"Fuck, baby." Harry couldn't help but groan at her words, his hands finding her hair as she knelt on the floor in front of him. When she began to work on his belt, he felt his cock jerk to attention and he held his breath. “You don’t have t’do that, baby. I… I didn’t do it for you t’suck me.”

“I know.” Her warm hand ran over his cock, feeling it twitch up against her palm. “That’s partially why I wanna.” It was easy work getting his belt off, leaning in and kissing his cock over his jeans. “Is this an acceptable tip?”

Harry's eyes fluttered shut and he leaned back on the counter, his fingers slowly carding through her hair. "Y/N…" he groaned out, his hips moving forward when she mouthed at his erection over the denim. "…yeah, that's an… s’an acceptable tip. Only for you."

Harry's lips parted as he felt her teeth gently skim over the length of his cock through the fabric of his jeans. "Fuck, don’t…" Harry's hands tightened in her hair, his head falling back against the counter as she continued to mouth at his dick through his jeans. "Y/N, stop, please... I don't wanna cum like this. Want your mouth."

“Oh?” Her eyes lit up at how heavily it effected him. “What about this has you all worked up, baby? I’ve barely touched you…”

Harry's breath hitches in his throat as she speaks, his heart racing in his chest. He looks down at her, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and frustration. "It's because you're being so fucking gentle with me." His voice strained as she ran her finger over the waistline of uis jeans. Something about how she treated him, especially when she got that teasing look on her face, got him all riled up.

“Hm… you like me being all gentle, then?” Looking up at him through her lashes, she gently lifted her other hand under his shirt and lightly dragged her nails down his abdomen. “You like when m’nice and sweet to you?”

Harry shuddered at the feeling of her nails scraping against his skin, a low moan rising in his throat. "Fuck, yeah," he gasped out, fingers taking root in her hair. "I love when you're sweet to me… S’nice having such a sweet girl all for me."

“You’re so hot, H.” She grinned, fingers clasping on his button and slowly dragging down his zipper. “I love that you like that about me. Promise I’ll make this good.” his briefs had a wet patch from his cock leaking, her finger tracing over his twitching length. “Wanna be in my mouth?”

Harry's breath hitches as she speaks, his hips jerking forward as her finger traces over his leaking head. "Yes," he whispers, his voice strained. "I want to be in your mouth so fucking bad, m’baby..." He looks down at her, his eyes pleading. "Please, Y/N... just give me somethin’." His hands are tightened slightly in her hair, his body thrumming with need.

Sharp jaw clenched, his body tensed as she slowly licked along the base of his shaft, lapping up the bead of moisture at the tip. He watches her, his eyes dark with desire, his voice ragged as he mumbled her name again, pulling her further in. Seeing him slightly desperate really did it for her- so she decided to give it to him. Slowly sucking the tip into her mouth, her tongue lapped over the leaking slit before she let herself sink down a little, pulling back with a soft ‘pop’ sound. “Like that?”

Harry groaned, his head falling back as she started to suck on the tip. "Yes, jus’ like that, baby. Suck me right into that perfect mouth.” Her tongue swirled around the head of his cock as she slowly took him in, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked. Seeing her lips stretched around his girth made him throb harder, his eyes nearly rolling back from the sensation. "That's it, sweetheart. Can I give you some more?"

Before she took him in deeper she nodded, letting Harry's hands find their place in her hair. Holding her in place as he started to thrust gently, his cock slid in and out of her mouth with a sinfully wet sound that had him reeling. His breath hitched as he looked down at her, his perfect vision as he watched his cock disappear between those perfect lips over and over.

Y/N looked like a fucking wet dream. Her lips were plump and stretched around his cock, her cheeks hollowing with every suck. Her eyes were half closed as she focused on him, her brows furrowed in concentration as she took him deeper. A string of spittle connected the tip of his cock to her lips for a moment as she pulled back before plunging back down, her nose nuzzling into the groomed thatch of hair on his groin. Her hands gripped his thighs for support, a blush rising on her cheeks as she continued to pleasure him, letting him lead.

When she took him all the way down, Harry threw his head back and let out a low moan. He felt her gag slightly, her lips brushing against his balls as she tried to take every inch of him. "Oh fuck, baby. That feels so fucking good. Knew you could do it. Tha’s my fucking girl." The guttural groan had her whimpering around him, teary eyes opening a little more to look up at him. It was one of her favorite parts about giving head- getting to see his pretty face contorted with pleasure that she was providing.

Harry's thighs shook a little as she sucked him messily, her tongue working him over with each bob of her head. He felt himself getting closer to the edge, his breath coming in short, quick bursts. "Shit, sweetheart. M’gonna cum soon if you don't stop." Y/N was talented at giving head, better than anyone he had been with, and it was a blessing and a curse. A blessing because… obviously. A curse, because he didn’t last as long as he wanted to. He wanted to savor every bit of it.

Harry felt his balls tightening, signaling that he was about to come. He didn't want it to end so soon, but Y/N was just too good at what she did for him. He pulled her up and kissed her deeply, tasting himself on her lips. "Goddammit, angel."

She moaned as he kissed her, hand falling down to his spot soaked cock and stroking it in her palm. The wet click of her strokes meddled with their kissing, making her even more eager to finish him off. “It’s okay, baby.” She breathed against his mouth. “Don’t care if it’s quick. Just like making you feel good. I love how you feel in my mouth. Can’t get enough of you. Jus’ let me go back and suck you more, want you to finish in my mouth.”

Harry's breathing quickened at her words. "Shit. If you keep talking like that, I'm gonna fucking cum right now." He closed his eyes as she dropped back to her knees. It was only natural as she went back to sucking him, her hand firmly wrapped around the base of his cock as she gave tight strokes.

He really, really couldn't help the groan that escaped his lips as Y/N went back to sucking him. Her tongue worked its magic on his tip before she took him in as deep as she could, swallowing around him to make him hiss. He felt her hand moving in time with her mouth, creating a perfect rhythm.

Harry's eyes rolled back as he felt Y/N's warm lips delve down for a moment, licking over his sac before returning to his cock. He could already tell he wasn't going to last long, the feeling building in his balls. Grabbing onto her already messy hair, he pulled her closer. "Fuck, baby." He could feel his orgasm building, the feeling spreading from his balls and up his shaft. "Ah, fuck, Baby..” he whined, gritting his teeth. “M’gonna cum, keep fuckin’ doing that. My perfect girl, always make me feel so good. Filthy little thing getting on your knees for me after I pierce your tits. God, m’so obsessed with you." He was babbling a bit, but he couldn’t help it. It truly felt so good that he could pass out given the chance.

Y/N could hear the desperation in Harry's voice, knew he was close. She loved giving him this kind of pleasure, the kind that made him lose it a little bit. Ever since their first time he had no qualms about showing her how much he adored her while she did this, and it only got better with time. As weird as it may seem, she really loved making him feel good, the weight of him in her mouth- but she wanted to finish him. She picked up her pace and used her free hand to fondle his balls.

"Fuuuck..." Harry hissed, his breath hitching as Y/N added that in, making him lose it. It was too much, too fucking much and he loved it. He couldn’t hold back anymore. With a loud moan, he came. It orgasm hit him hard and fast, his cock pulsing against her tongue as he released his load into her warm and waiting mouth. He tried his best to warn her, but he couldn't form words as he rode out his high. Y/N continued to suck him off as he came hard, milking the last of his orgasm out. She swallowed everything, looking up at him with a hum of satisfaction. Harry was utterly spent, and all that could leave his lips was a shaky grunt of her name.

That was the only thing she wanted to hear when he felt good.

Pulling off of him, a string of spit hung between her lips and the tip of his cock as she smiled up at him, utterly pleased with herself. Getting Harry to cum like that was a privilege, one that she was lucky enough to be the only one to do.

Letting out a laugh in disbelief, he grabbed a handful of Y/N's hair and pulled her up to meet his lips in a deep, messy kiss. He tasted himself on her lips and tongue, only adding to his post-orgasm haze. He held her there, kissing her sloppily as he tried to catch his breath. “Fuck me, that was incredible.” He mumbled into the kiss. “Can barely feel my fuckin’ feet.”

“Good.” Her smile was giddy as she pulled back to wipe her mouth, giving him her most innocent smile. “Hope you enjoyed your tip, baby. If I ever find out someone else did the same, I’ll kill them.” She said in an overly sweet tone.

He chuckled, pulling her close again, placing a sweet kiss on her lips. As if he’d ever need anyone else with the way she made him feel. "Only you do it for me, babe."

“Damn right.” She grumbled, pulling back and wiping her mouth. “Now that payment has been approved… I think I need you to feed me actual food, please.”

Still slightly reeling, he hummed, rubbing his hand over his messy hair as he watched her walk off to grab her coat. "Fine, fine. Let's get some food. Can’t let my number one client starve.”

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mashtatosworld · 17 days ago

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number 1

summary: it's your baby's first birthday

You found him at 2am again, perched on the windowsill in the soft glow of the city lights, his iPad balanced on his knee, stylus tapping rhythmically against the screen. His hair stuck up in every direction, the product of stress, perfectionism, and love.

“She’s turning one, Ji,” you murmured from the bed, eyes glued to your show on the tv. “She’s not debuting."

Jiyong’s gaze flicked up, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It’s her first birthday.”

He said it like that was answer enough.

You sighed, but the truth was - you loved it. The way he loved her with every obsessive, over-the-top fibre of his being. The way his genius, the same brilliance that had made him so adored, now poured into balloon colour palettes and custom hanbok sketches.

Meanwhile, your contribution sat quietly on the kitchen counter - a lopsided, homemade cake, decorated with flowers and uneven piping. It was imperfect, but it was made by your hands, the same hands that had cradled her when she was only minutes old.

“I’ll handle the cake,” you had told him the day before, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as he stood over his table-sized blueprint of the living room transformation. “You handle... everything else.”

He grinned, eyes still pinned to the papers. “Deal.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The first thing you noticed when you woke up that morning wasn’t the sound of Diva calling for her morning rescue from her crib - it was the empty side of the bed.

A rarity, especially on mornings like this, when Jiyong usually snuggled closer, soaking in every second of sleep until his daughter’s demands pulled him away.

The soft rustle of paper drew you out of bed, padding down the hall until you found him.

He was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, barefoot and in his stripy red pyjamas, his legs crossed beneath him. All around him were photo albums, some open, some stacked haphazardly, and in his lap lay Diva’s first baby book - the one you filled with trembling hands in those first newborn weeks, when everything felt so fragile and new.

His thumb was tracing over a photo - when she was only hours old, a tiny burrito in a hospital blanket, her dark hair already thick, her hand gripping his finger like she knew exactly who he was.

“She was just born,” he said quietly, not even looking up. His voice was rough, words thick with the kind of disbelief only parents truly understand.

You stepped closer, lowering yourself beside him until your knee brushed his. “She still is, kinda. One’s still a baby.”

He finally looked at you, and your heart clenched at the shine in his eyes. “It’s going too fast.”

You could’ve said something comforting - that you understood, that you felt it too - but you knew he wasn’t looking for reassurances. He just needed to sit in it, to hold the weight of time in his hands for a minute before letting it go.

“I thought if I planned everything perfectly, maybe I wouldn’t have to think about it,” he admitted, his smile small and self-deprecating. “If I controlled all of today, I wouldn’t feel so…”

“So helpless?” you offered gently.

He huffed out a soft laugh. “Yeah.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, letting silence settle between you for a beat. “She’s not going anywhere, Ji.”

His arm came around you automatically, fingers tracing absent patterns on your thigh. “But she’s already so different. She used to fit right here.” He held out his hand, palm up, like he could still feel the ghost of her newborn weight. “Now she’s… walking and talking... and bossing me around.”

“Yeah... she’s got her Appa wrapped around her little finger.”

“From day one.” His voice wobbled, just slightly, and you turned to press a kiss to his jaw, feeling the tension there.

“She’s going to have the best day today,” you promised. “Because you made it that way.”

“She deserves it,” he whispered. “She deserves everything.”

Before you could respond, a tiny, familiar voice broke through the air, travelling through door with painted flowers, sweet and insistent.

“Appa,” Diva’s call rang out, followed by the sound of her hands slapping the crib rail. “Appa!”

Jiyong’s breath caught - the crack of emotion smoothing into something warmer, something softer. “Okay,” he whispered, like he was answering her and himself at the same time. “Okay. I’m ready.”

You smiled, tugging his hand until you were both on your feet. “Let’s go throw her the party of the year.”

He pulled you into a quick hug, arms tight around your middle, before he kissed your temple and headed down the hall. And just before he disappeared into her room, you heard him - voice bright and sweet and full of love.

“Happy birthday, my baby.”

And that was all he needed to say.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

By mid-morning, the penthouse was unrecognisable - a floral wonderland of soft pink, gold, and ivory. Fairy lights draped from the ceiling like stars caught in a net, and sheer fabric cascaded down the windows, diffusing the light so the whole place looked like a dream sequence come to life.

The long, low table that stretched across the center was covered in silk runners and overflowing with tiny desserts: macarons, baby-sized cupcakes, delicate fruit tarts - each one the size of Diva’s fist. And at the very end of the table, your cake stood proudly on a simple white stand, a little crooked, a little messy, but yours.

Jiyong, dressed in vintage Chanel that matched your dress, hovered nearby, stylus still in hand as he made last-minute adjustments to… something. Probably the custom playlist.

“Don’t touch the cake,” you warned, catching him side-eyeing it.

“I wasn’t going to.” His face betrayed him - a flash of worry, his designer heart twitching at the sight of the imperfect frosting and wonky flowers.

You smacked his shoulder gently. “It’s made with love.”

“Just like our baby.” He smiled, leaning down to press an affectionate kiss to your lips.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Diva hadn’t touched the ground once all day.

From the moment Taeyang and Hyorin walked in, bearing gifts wrapped so perfectly they could’ve been art, Diva had been handed off from one loving pair of arms to the next.

“Look at this hanbok,” Hyorin cooed, adjusting the soft pink fabric. “She looks like a little princess.”

“She is a princess,” Jiyong corrected from across the room, where he was rearranging a floral centrepiece for the third time.

Daesung arrived with a helium balloon tied to his wrist and a mission to make her giggle, which was usually a very hard task - if you weren't her uncle Dae. He flashed her goofy smiles accompanied by loud singing, earning himself a half-smile in seconds. She was in hysterics by the end of his balloon dance.

Seunghyun stood awkwardly nearby, waiting for his turn, holding a suspiciously heavy box that if you were to guess, contained some sort of avant-garde sculpture.

“She’s been held all day,” you said as Jiyong came up beside you, his hand finding the small of your back. “She probably forgot what the floor feels like.”

“She’s training,” Jiyong teased, watching your baby clutch Taeyang’s chain necklace like a prized treasure. “VIP baby life.”

But when she spotted her Appa, her tiny hands immediately reached for him, her whole body leaning toward him with unmistakable need.

“Sorry, hyungs.” Jiyong scooped her up, tucking her perfectly into his side like they were two puzzle pieces made to fit. “She plays favourites.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

When it came time for the cake, everyone gathered around the low table - your homemade masterpiece glowing in the candlelight.

“My talented wife made it,” Jiyong announced, louder than necessary.

“Really?” Taeyang’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “It looks...”

“Charming,” Seunghyun offered, which was probably the closest thing to a compliment he’d ever given.

Jiyong leaned down over your shoulder, cheek pressed to yours, “It’s perfect.”

Diva was then placed in her high chair between you and Jiyong, staring at the cake with wide eyes. When you guided her tiny hand to the frosting, she gasped - delighted at the sticky sweetness.

In seconds, her whole face was covered, her tiny fingers grabbing fistfuls of cake and smashing it into her mouth, her hair, her hanbok. The whole room erupted into laughter, cameras flashing.

“You’re just like your Appa,” you giggled. “All or nothing.”

“We know what we like.” Jiyong kissed the frosting off her cheek, laughing when she smacked a sticky hand against his face.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Finally, it was time for the doljabi - the traditional fortune-telling ritual.

On the table lay a small selection of carefully curated items: a paintbrush, a book, a tiny gold crown, a camera, and a microphone. All symbols of different futures.

The microphone, however, stood out - sparkly, bedazzled, and unmistakably Jiyong’s.

“Ji,” you deadpanned. “That’s your mic.”

“Oh, is it?” he shrugged, feigning innocence as if he hadn't set the items down himself. He knew she always whined to touch it, hands out-stretched to the mantelpiece where it was usually displayed.

“She’s gonna pick it,” you muttered. “Of course she is.”

As soon as she was set down, Diva's tiny fingers wasted no time reaching for the glittering item placed in the centre of objects. She raised it to her mouth as if it was a teething ring and Jiyong quickly intercepted with a laugh when she began to smack the table with it.

“She’s our daughter,” Jiyong grinned, lifting her high above his head. “Born to perform.”

“Let's hope she's not as much of a diva as you then.” you teased as your baby held the mic in your direction, offering you the item covered in drool.

But you couldn’t deny the pride swelling in your chest at the sight of your little family. Music had been what brought you together, and it was clear, that was something that wouldn't change.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The birthday party slowly developed into a YG family reunion and you shook your head at the performance your husband and his bandmates were currently putting on.

Diva was falling asleep in your arms, completely unaware of the embarrassment she was serenaded with as Daesung belted out her name whilst the party-goers crowded around the mini stage Jiyong had insisted upon.

Now you knew why.

You held your baby closer to your chest, feeling a pulse of love weave through you. One year ago, as your labour pains started, you'd been terrified to birth a child into the world. You worried for your career, your love life, your friendships... fearing they would all unravel at such a big change.

But in the end, she'd been the stitch that pulled everything together.

Fantastic Baby started playing and Diva's head raised just slightly as all the boys pointed at her, the so-called 'fantastic baby' in sight.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Hours later, after the final guest left and the last balloon drifted to the ceiling, you found yourselves curled up on the couch - just the three of you.

Your baby, now in a soft and warm onesie, lay between you and Jiyong, her hands still occasionally grabbing for his hair.

The penthouse was a mess - an overwhelmingly large pile of presents, crumpled wrapping paper, half-eaten desserts scattered across the table - but none of it mattered.

“We did good,” you whispered.

“We always do,” Jiyong replied, his voice soft, his fingers trailing over Diva’s tiny hand.

“But… you were right.”

“About what?” he asked with a soft smile.

“Everything,” you said, carefully laying your head atop your baby's as she eventually settled. “Today... It was perfect.”

He leaned down to kiss the top of your head, dropping his own to rest on yours, exhausted from months of planning and a full day of entertaining.

And in the quiet that followed, with your daughter asleep between you, and your husband wrapped around you both, you realised - this was the real party. Just the three of you.

The most perfect gift of all.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

as requested! loving the diva requests, writing them makes me melt <3

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure

#bigbang #kpop #gdragon #kwon jiyong #mashtatosworld #kwon jiyong x reader #gdragon x reader #gdad

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nanamiskentos · 1 month ago

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DAYLIGHT! ☓ ── ( 呪術廻戦, multi )

⌗ valentines day with the sorcerer you love <3

ᯓ starring ─ jjk ensemble cast : gojo, geto, nanami, choso, sukuna, toji, ino, kashimo, hiromi

𝓶𝓾𝓵𝓽𝓲. ㅤ﹑ ( 呪術廻戦 ; x afab!reader ) ─── ❛ cw ⌓. sfw. wc ⌓. 2k. art, sea_Pall

﹙ 五条悟 : gojo satoru ﹚ ─ probably the type to pretend that he's forgotten valentines day to mess with you, acting clueless all morning. but he's dropping the entire extravagant surprise later for sure, including a red rose bouquet that could pay a month of rent, all your favourite chocolates and fireworks ! pretends not to sniffle and tear up when you give him your own gift, because for all his bravado it means a lot to him that you love him just as much. he just wants to see you happy, and he puts serious effort into making valentines day special, even if he hides it behind jokes and teasing. got a custom-made gift, something like a charm bracelet with small jewels and charms that represent all your favourite things. also the type to do shit like buying you a star in your name, right next to his because he thinks the idea of cosmic soulmates is so romantic. late at night, when it's just the two of you, he drops the jokes and tells you, 'you're the best part of my life, y'know.' and he means that with all his heart.

﹙ 夏油傑 : geto suguru ﹚ ─ complains about valentines day a bit, because he doesn't see what's so different about feb 14, but he still indulges it. if you're bad at giving gifts, he'll pretend to love whatever you give him, even if it's...awful. he prefers quality time over material gifts honestly, and he plans a quiet date where he can spend as much time as possible with you, over tea or expensive wine. but that's not to say that he doesn't put effort into a gift. it's definitely thoughtful and catered to your taste, and probably more sentimental instead of flashy (like chasing down your favourite author with rainbow dragon just to get an autograph on a copy of your favourite book). clasps your hands with his to kiss you, and tell you that he loves being with you because you give him peace.

﹙ 両面宿儺 : ryomen sukuna ﹚ ─ "why would i celebrate a human holiday?" but when you woke up, there was a velvet box beside you on your pillow, and he acts like he has no idea how it got there ('oh, it was just uraume, it wasn't me' and then he goes and gets all upset when you go thank uraume instead). he doesn't get the idea of giving flowers either, because well, they all die in the end right? but he knows they make you happy, so he's still chasing after the prettiest bouquet he can find. he'll never admit it, but he's obsessively protective over you, so the fact that he's even acknowledging valentines day means that you're special to him. the type to haul around a box of a hundred doves so you can open it as a surprise, and watch as all these birds fly all over your apartment. late at night, when no-one's around, he traces circles on your wrist and tells you that he doesn't do love, but whatever this is, he doesn't want it to end.

﹙ 七海建人 : nanami kento ﹚ ─ he tries to be serious about valentine's day, but gojo keeps texting him ridiculous gift ideas that keep fucking with his composure. if you surprise nanami with something romantic, he'll turn slightly pink and peachy, and say that 'this is unnecessary' but he won't stop smiling the rest of the day (#needthat). even though he's not a fan of big celebration, he wants you to feel appreciated. he probably goes down the classic route of a perfectly planned dinner, your favourite flowers, and a handwritten card -> the type of husband material where he attends one of those artsty card making/flower pressing classes just to make something for you with his own hands. when he pulls you close at the end of the night, he whispers to you that he doesn't need a special day to remind him of how much he loves you.

﹙ 伏黒甚爾 : toji fushiguro ﹚ ─ he asked what you wanted for valentines day and you said that you wanted him oiled up in the dining table. and toji's the type to lowk take that seriously, because that's kinda cost effective for him too. but he does genuinely try to do something nice and heads over to a shopping centre of stores that are way out of his pay grade, and tries to bat his pretty, green eyes into some type of discount. the sales assistants don't argue with a man built like an mma fighter wandering around the jewellery section. even if the two of you don't go out, he wants you to feel safe and secure, and he'll keep an arm around you all day. after everything toji's been through, you're the one thing that makes him feel human again. "i didn't think i'd ever have this," he tells you, holding you against him.

﹙ 脹相 : choso kamo ﹚ ─ doesn't quite the holiday, and choso just wonders if it's some sort of human ritual that he's not quite grasping. tries way too hard to make it perfect, but it's all the more endearing. choso was convinced he could handle a homemade dinner, but he burnt it so bad that gordan ramsey would have a stroke. but he was determined to bullshit his way through it, "what do you mean, babe? this is how it's meant to taste." all said with a straight face, the gall! picks out flowers based on their meanings because he wants them to represent all the real love and feelings in his heart. he's such a pda type of guy, always clinging to you and intertwines your fingers with his as he leads you around. definitely sees you as the most precious thing in the world, and he just cannot believe he has someone as incredible as you <3

﹙ 猪野琢真 : ino takuma ﹚ ─ is determined to figure out valentines day himself, without getting advice from other people (like nanami) but in the end, he finds himself tweaking out and trying to plan the perfect day for you. accidentally bought something that was really cute, little and bejewelled because he thought it would look gorgeous on your neck. didn't realise until afterwards that he picked it up from the pet accessory tub, and desperately hopes you don't realise. he spends the whole day just wanting to make you laugh, because if you're happy, he's happy. even if he does mess something up, it's just endearingly sweet and he makes up for it with pure enthusiasm. he gets all soft and melty when you reciprocate his feelings, and he tells you that he knows he's not perfect, but you make him want to be better.

﹙ 鹿紫雲 : hajime kashimo ﹚ ─ he kind of has a reputation to keep up, and rolls his eyes at the mention of valentines day. but no-one knows that back in the day (aka, the edo period in the 1600s) he was actually into things like poetry and courtly love. unfortunately, he's also an adrenaline junkie and you regret showing him the movie 'twisters' because he truly thinks storm chasing is a fun and romantic activity. he goes out and buys you something that he knows you'll actually use, more practical sort of gifts. he actually tries to go and pick flowers for you himself, instead of buying them. tries to act smug and above it all, but gets all nervous and twitchy when you compliment him and gift him something in return. almost started sweating and getting a headache when you told him that you loved him because he realised that now he actually has to be equally open about his (equal) feelings. of course, you know that hajime does love you but you just think its funny watching him go nauseous and pale at the idea of emotional vulnerability. its good to let the cocky man sweat a bit, good for character building.

﹙日車寛見 : higuruma hiromi ﹚ ─ a classy man (want him) and he treats valentines day with plenty of elegance. he's definitely secured an expensive and well-thought out gifts like a rare book, perfume, or a beautiful fountain pen (or all three). he takes you out to a fancy jazz bar, where he treats you to the prettiest cocktails and kisses your hand softly. he's surprisingly affection behind closed doors, and purrs when you run your fingers through his dark hair. also goes pretty shy when you flirt with him and get ridiculously affection, like he's pulling on his tie and trying to hide the red flush on his neck. your valentines day with hiromi ends with you and him laughing over a glass of pricey wine. he thought he was so clever for writing you a little note like 'roses are red, violets are blue, if you ever get arrested, i'll be there for you :)'

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navybrat817 · 5 months ago

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Hold You Tight: Part 12

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 11 | Series Masterlist | Part 13

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.7k

Chapter Summary: Bucky gets under your skin when he takes you shopping.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, dirty talk, mild dubcon (kissing, touching), tension, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, gaslighting, manipulation, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and hope you enjoy! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You weren’t sure how much time passed with Bucky’s head resting in your lap, your fingers absentmindedly moving through his hair. While his body relaxed, you remained rigid. You tried to think of positive things. Your upcoming trip to the winery, Addison’s wedding. The images in your mind darkened though as if a cloud loomed over them. In a way, it did because you didn’t know what Bucky had planned for those events. Because even if Bucky really let you go to the winery alone, someone would be watching.

You forced the cloud in your mind to lift. Things could still be positive. You could still have a good day and have the best time with your friends.

“I’m sorry, but I have to get back to work,” you whispered.

“Of course,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to your thigh and lifting his head with a smile. The darkness had left his eyes. How long until it returned? “Thank you for calming me down.”

“Of course,” you echoed because what else could you do?

Brushing his pants off once he got to his feet, he helped you up and didn’t let go of your hand. You didn’t attempt to pull away. He made sure to grab the money you left on the table before he paid the server and you tried to give the poor guy a smile when you thanked him. You just wanted to get on with your day.

As Bucky led you out of the cafe and back to the shop, you caught Ray’s gaze as he stood by the car and waited for his boss. Whatever concern he showed for you faded when he blinked. How did he deal with this life? Would he ever walk away from it?

“I’ll pick you up after work then?” Bucky asked.

“Sure,” you said. You didn’t tell him when your shift ended, but he knew, didn’t he? “Thanks for lunch.”

“It was my pleasure, but one more thing.” Bucky stopped you before you could enter the shop. “This regular customer you mentioned earlier. How often does he stop in?”

He asked as if he had no idea and maybe he didn’t in this case. That assumption didn’t ease your worries. “Once a month,” you said, your stomach turning slightly. “Listen, the roses he tried to give to me, I gave them to him first. They were his usual order and I thought it would be nice gesture and I was just-”

His brows pinched a little as his hands gently framed your cheeks. “Kotyonok, why do you sound so upset?” He asked, his thumbs moving in a soothing motion as you took a deep breath. “Wait, are you scared that I’d be mad at you?”

“I… I don’t know,” you said. You didn’t necessarily think he’d be upset with you, but after his mood swings at lunch and everything else so far you weren't sure what to expect. “I just don't know.”

“No, no, no, I’m not mad at you. Why would I be mad that you were kind to another person? That’s one of the things I love about you. It drew me to you,” he assured you. You oddly felt better by his assurance. “I don’t want you to stop doing kind things for others because you’re worried it might upset me.”

“So, it doesn’t upset you?”

“You being you would never upset me,” he smiled. He had said more than once that he loved you as a person, so maybe he was telling the truth. “A man trying to give flowers to you while going through a break-up is, at the very least, a little strange.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” you said, not wanting to admit that he had a point and that you were slightly put off when Clark tried to give the roses to you.

“I’m also well aware that you don’t hit on any guy who comes into your shop, so I wouldn’t view any act of kindness to a customer as trying to get their attention.”

“That’s true,” you agreed. Even Ray had pointed out to you that you didn’t give guys in the shop the time of day. Why would you when most of them were buying flowers for someone else? “But I just wanted you to know.”

“I appreciate you telling me, but you have nothing to worry about. Just have a good rest of the day.” With a kiss to the corner of your mouth, he whispered, “I’ll be thinking of you until I see you again.”

You weren’t sure why your heart fluttered. Relief that Bucky reacted calmly to what you said? You didn’t dwell on it as he held the door open and smiled after you as you went back into the shop. It was time to concentrate on work again.

Mrs. Crandle smiled and waved to Bucky through the door. “Oh, he is a looker,” she winked. “How was lunch, dear?”

“The food was good and Bucky and I got to talk a bit, which was… nice,” you answered, glancing around the shop and wondering if the place was bugged, too. Could he get access to the shop? Letting you continue to work seemed too good to be true, but he’d have nothing to worry about if he had eyes and ears there, too. “He’s taking me shopping tonight.”

She clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s wonderful! And don’t you dare be modest. Let him spoil you.”

“I have a feeling he’ll spoil me even if I don't ask him to,” you said.

Your whole experience with Bucky was whether you wanted it or not, so why would he stop now?

As expected, Bucky arrived back at the shop a few hours later to pick you up. Instead of giving him the chance to go inside and speak to Mrs. Crandle again, you grabbed your bag and rushed out the door to greet him. He caught you easily when you nearly collided with him, and for the first time, you felt like you were intruding in his space instead of the other way around.

“Eager to see me?” He smiled, his voice teasing as he kept a hand on your shoulder and helped you into the vehicle when you didn’t immediately answer. “How was the rest of your shift? I hope no one else bothered you.”

Just you.

“It was uneventful. I got a lot done,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you from the normalcy of your afternoon. “And no one bothered me.” Your gaze flickered to him and he was hanging onto your every word. He also looked much more relaxed, like the moodiness at lunch never happened. “How about you? How was your day?”

“Also uneventful. A couple of boring calls. Kept thinking about you though and it got me through the day,” he said, slipping an arm around you as the car door closed. The way you two were speaking to each other sounded almost normal. Checking in on each other, seeing how the other was doing. “Steve asked about that double date.”

“I’m sure he’s excited for that,” you said, wondering if that poor coat check girl had any idea.

“We both are. You can find a dress for that, too,” he smiled fondly. “In fact, what would you think of me getting you a new wardrobe when you move in? Your style, your choice on everything. You name it.”

You raised an eyebrow, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty washing over you. “Is there something wrong with my current wardrobe?” You hadn’t done anything to deserve a whole new set of clothes and you hoped he wasn’t suggesting it to mold you more to his liking.

“Nothing wrong with it at all. You have great taste and I just want to spoil you,” he said, running a finger down your side. This was the man who let you go into his exclusive club wearing a dressed down outfit simply because it was you, so he’d probably let you get away with any sort of wardrobe you wanted. “Do you know how ravishing you look right now?”

“I’m not ravishing. I’m in my work clothes,” you muttered.

“You are ravishing,” he said, moving his finger back up as you shivered. “We should get some stargazer lilies for your first night in our home. I could strip you down, lay you out on our bed, and brush one of the petals along your skin.”

You inhaled sharply and closed your eyes, trying not to picture him spreading you out on a luxurious bed. He would say something like that when he was right in your space and you had nowhere to go. The man went from zero to sixty in seconds. No doubt he could feel you tremble and knew your heart was racing.

“Bet it’ll feel soft against your nipples,” he whispered, exhaling against your ear. “And your pussy.”

Your next breath was shallow, but you managed not to whimper. “Where are we going shopping?” You asked evenly, hoping to get to the destination sooner rather than later.

You stubbornly kept your eyes shut when he chuckled. “You’re changing the topic because you’re thinking about it, aren’t you? Worried you’ll get your panties soaked before we get to the shop?” He questioned, your heart thudding. You didn’t want to think about it at all. You wanted out of the car so you could properly breathe again. “I’m sorry. I’m not playing nice, am I? We’re going to one of your favorite stores and you can pick out whatever you want.”

You’d no doubt look at the price tags out of habit since you shopped on a budget and bought your nicer pieces on sale. “Do you ever really play nice?” You asked, opening your eyes. “One moment you’re being vulnerable and talking about your family and the next time I see you you’re talking about sleeping with me. I’m shocked the whiplash hasn’t scrambled my brain.”

The image of him destroying the utensil at lunch like it was nothing flashed in your mind for some reason. And him and his gang beating up John. Just how strong was he? Was he a killer?

“Sometimes we’ll talk about something tough or serious and the next it may be something more fun or intimate. That’s part of being in a relationship,” he said. If only it were an authentic relationship. “I want that with you, telling you what’s on my mind and how I feel.”

If he cared about what was on your mind or how you felt, he’d back off and let you have a bit of space. “Relationships are built on mutual respect and trust,” you said. Did he not see that the mutual respect wasn't there since he pushed for things to be his way? And trust was something he couldn't force no matter how powerful he was.

“I understand that. You also said a first date was getting to know each other and seeing if there's a mutual connection. I'm opening up to you, letting you get to know me. I’m getting to know you, too, beyond the things I knew in advance,” he said. What was he learning about you that he didn’t already know? “And you can't tell me you don't feel something for me.”

“Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear, Bucky? That I want you and want to be with you?” You asked. Even if you did develop feelings for him, it would have to be classified as some form of stockholm syndrome. And even then, strong feelings wouldn’t be enough. He wanted everything from you. “That I don’t want anyone else?”

The hand along your side crept up to your neck, tension heightening when he gently squeezed. He loved putting his hand around your throat. “You do want me, you do want to be with me, you’ll never want anyone else once I have you and I know you love how much I want you,” he spoke with confidence, like he could make the words come true as you took your next breath. “Should I check your panties before we go inside and feel how wet they are?”

You needed to distract him. Fight him. Do something. “What’s your love language?” You blurted out. “Physical Touch?”

“What?” He whispered, your heart still pounding when he slowly moved his hand away from your throat.

“Your love language. You constantly touch me when I’m close to you, so I guessed Physical Touch,” you explained. He always had a hand on you.

He sat back with a pensive look. “No one has ever asked me that.”

“Oh,” you said as the car rolled to a stop. You blindly reached for the door handle. “Well, it’s something to think about if you don’t know.”

He held your arm when you tried to get out. “You express yourself through Acts of Service with loving gestures and helping with tasks, but what you crave is Quality Time because you value meaningful interactions and connecting with people on a more personal level.”

You nodded slowly. It was why you loved hanging out with your girlfriends. You cherished making memories with them.

“You also appreciate Words of Affirmation, even if compliments make you feel uncertain because you sometimes feel overlooked. The combination of those languages makes you feel seen and heard,” he continued, giving you a tender smile. “I can hear and see you if you let me.”

You found yourself unable to speak as he gauged your reaction, your throat tight as if gripped by an unseen force. He nailed it right on the head about your love languages, didn't he? “I need air,” you whispered, letting yourself out of the car once he let you go.

The tightness in your throat moved to your heart. Bucky saw and heard you in his own way, didn't he? Not just as a passing thought but because he genuinely believed he loved you, deeply and wholeheartedly. The more he sank his fangs in, the more venom he injected. You had to be your own antidote.

With a shake of your head, you glanced up at the shop. True to his word, it was one you loved. Another piece of yourself that would now be tied to him.

You jumped when Bucky appeared beside you and took your arm. “You okay?” He asked, studying your face with gentle eyes.

“Just fine,” you replied, smiling for his sake. “Let's go shopping.”

You walked into the boutique together, the air filled with a subtle mix of lavender and something sweet that made you feel right at home. The space was a blend of trendy and rustic, exuding charm and intimacy. Clothes lined the wooden shelves and vintage racks, showcasing a variety of styles that ranged from casual to bold. Delicate accessories sparkled in the soft light, inviting you to explore.

You could easily find the perfect dress for the winery here.

“Hello! Welcome to… Oh! Mr. Barnes,” the associate smiled, her heels clicking on the floor. She was a picture perfect example of style and beauty. “I have the back dressing room set up and I’ll be sure no one disturbs you or your girlfriend. It was sundresses you requested, correct?”

Bucky looked proud of himself. “Yes, the perfect sundress for my girl,” he smiled, his blue eyes sparkling as he looked at you. “And whatever dress you choose, you’ll need jewelry. Oh, and a clutch.”

“Girlfriend?” You asked. He must not have wanted a repeat of how the hostess treated the two of you at lunch. “Wait, you already have dresses selected for me to try on?”

“He called and gave us all the details. And we’ll make sure you have everything you need,” the associate promised as Bucky nudged you ahead of him to follow her. Was anyone else in the shop? “Would either of you like a water?”

“No thank you,” you said. You were never offered a water when you shopped there before, but you were never there with Bucky Barnes.

“Just let me know if you need anything at all,” she smiled, opening the dressing room door.

Bucky thanked her as he took a seat in one of the chairs across from the door, watching you expectantly. “If you don't like any of them, we can go somewhere else.”

“I’m sure they're fine,” you said, going into the room and shutting the door before he could say anything else.

Quickly slipping off your shoes, pants, and top, you turned your attention to a small rack with a range of sundresses. Checking each tag as you pushed through them, none of them on sale, it wasn't a surprise that they were all your size. And all something you'd consider wearing. After flipping through the dresses twice, you decided to try on a sleeveless white dress with small rosebuds. It would be nice for a vineyard.

Before you could put the dress on, the door opened. “Need any help?” Bucky asked as you spun around in your bra and underwear, his eyes slowly scanning your body before you had a chance to cover yourself.

“No. I…” you trailed off as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

He stared at you for what felt like an eternity before he breathed your name, want written all over his face. The dressing room felt small. Hot. You could hardly breathe as panic threatened to overwhelm you. And you couldn't do anything but step back as he stepped closer, a predator ready to capture his prey.

Your back hit the mirror when he brought a hand to your chin, your knees shaking as he leaned in. “You’re right about one thing,” he said in a husky tone. “I do crave Physical Touch. Yours.”

He pressed his lips to yours, keeping you still and giving you no chance to turn your head away. It was a light, feathering sort of kiss before his tongue flicked out to trace your lips. He teased you until you opened up for him and allowed his tongue to sweep into your mouth. You couldn't think as he groaned and continued his claim. It was only a matter of time until he claimed you completely.

Bucky pulled away a little, his free hand moving down your torso in a possessive path. “Fuck, you taste so sweet,” he rasped. You felt so small, your insides both frozen and melting from his touch. “Just wanna take you home and make you ride my face before I fuck you.”

You gasped when his knee moved between your legs, your hands flying up to hold his arms. He rocked his leg and you felt power in the motion, a promise of what was to come once he had you where he wanted you. “Bucky,” you whispered. The next word out of your mouth was smothered by his lips, but he didn't increase the urgency in his kisses. He took his time. Like the world could be burning around you and he’d let the flames take over as long as he was kissing you.

You bit back a whimper when he rocked his knee harder, the friction sending heat to your core. Another roll of his body and you were certain you felt the outline of his cock. Bringing a hand to his chest, you lightly pushed. It was already going too far. To your surprise, he broke the kiss. His eyes were still hungry though. “You said you want to hear me?” You asked breathlessly, your lip trembling when his thumb brushed it. “Then not here, please,” you whispered, praying he'd stop.

If he was going to have you, it wouldn't be in a dressing room.

“Right. Not for our first time.” He tipped his head back as he took a breath, no doubt trying to control himself. “Just one more kiss, Kotyonok. One more for me to dream about tonight,” he groaned, bringing his face back to yours for one more kiss with fervor. Just when you thought it would turn more ravenous, he shifted to something soft, tender. A feeling that had both of you shaking when it ended, but likely for different reasons.

You stayed upright when he stepped back and gave you space, but your legs still shook as he straightened up his clothes and looked you over once more. If he could devour you with a look... “Thank you.” He actually listened to you and didn't push it any further.

He glanced down as he adjusted his pants and you tried to avoid looking at the tent he began to sport. Horror filled you when your gaze went lower to the wet spot by his knee. He hadn't gotten you off, but you both knew he sparked some arousal within you. “Can’t wait ‘til you really make a mess on my pants,” he smirked, walking out just as quietly as he entered the tiny room.

Fighting back tears once he shut the door, you touched your lips. Bucky finally kissed you. Your mouth still tingled. You still felt him there.

Glancing at the rack of dresses, you wished he really was a sweet boyfriend trying to spoil you just because he could. But he hadn't given you a chance to pick them out yourself. He spoke for you, like you were a doll. It was just another piece he put in place for his twisted puzzle of your relationship.

What was wrong with you?

You pulled your clothes back on and flung the door open so hard it almost hit the wall. Bucky’s smug look immediately changed to concern when you walked out holding a sundress. “This one's fine,” you said in a flat tone.

“Are you sure?” He asked, sitting up more in his chair. “You didn't try it on, did you?”

“It’s the one I want,” you said, calling for the associate before Bucky had a chance to argue. You gave her a stiff smile when she joined you and handed over the garment, feeling Bucky’s eyes on you. “Whatever jewelry and handbag you think will go with this, I’ll take it. I trust your judgment.”

“Oh, this dress is lovely and we have the perfect accessories for this. Would you like to look at shoes as well? Or maybe something to go with any of the other dresses?” She asked, her eyes wide as you brushed past her. “Miss?”

“I’m sorry. I need to step outside,” you said, not wanting to be rude to her.

Bucky called after you, but you ignored him. You were furious with yourself. You let him kiss you and allowed some of his words to get under your skin. He didn't fuck you, but he still won, didn't he? And you were letting him. Just like with everything else.

You took two steps out of the shop before you felt a grip on your arm. “Woah. Slow down,” Bucky said, turning you to face him. “What’s wrong?”

Everything.

“It doesn't matter, but if you really want to see and hear me, please, pay attention,” you said, yanking your arm away. “I want to go home.”

“Why? Is it because that kiss meant something to you and you don't want to admit it?” He asked, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “If you're embarrassed that it made you wet, don't be. I'm flattered. Besides, it got me hard.”

Heat filled your cheeks and you wanted to smack him. There was a fine line between the delusion he had in his head and the reality of the situation. The tightrope you were walking was close to snapping. “I’m not embarrassed. I can't breathe.” You stepped back, trying to give yourself space. Was Ray watching from the car? “Everything in my life recently has revolved around you or you being there. Say what you want about me being lonely, it doesn't give you an excuse to take over.”

Bucky’s smile slipped, like he was really seeing how bothered you were. “I told you I just want to love you. And you enjoy Quality Time.”

“Quality Time when we agree upon it. And love itself should be the thing to take my breath away, not you smothering me,” you gently stated.

“I’m not trying to smother you.” He shifted like he was the one uncomfortable, his gaze flicking to the ground. “I… I know you can't breathe,” he said, lifting a hand as if to reach out before he dropped it and took a deep breath. “That’s why I'm leaving you alone tomorrow,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You're what?” You asked in disbelief, catching the hint of vulnerability in his eyes as his shoulders dropped. He hadn't left you alone since he broke in. Why in the world would he stop now?

“I was going to bring it up when I dropped you off.” His hand worked its way through his hair. “I’ve been thinking about it and talking and… I’m smothering you. I know I am. Rearranging your schedule, making you meet my friends, and everything else. So…” He reached for you this time and took your hand. “I’m giving you a breather and I’m not going to be around tomorrow. No surprise visits. No calls. Maybe a text, but nothing more.”

You blinked. “So, we won't see each other tomorrow?” You tried not to get too excited. It was only a day, but between that and the girls day that was still something. You had to go the cautiously optimistic route again and take what you got.

But you also couldn't help but wonder why he was really giving you that space. Did Ray or someone say something to him? Was this another ploy to keep you in line?

“You won't see me. God knows I’ll miss you, but it's just a day, right?” He squeezed your hand. “Maybe you’ll miss me, too.”

“I appreciate you giving me that space,” you said sincerely. He needed that space, too, even if he didn't believe it. “And maybe I will.”

“We won't have to miss each other much longer once we're together in the penthouse,” he said, his tone soft and your heart sinking. “Will you answer one thing: Did that kiss mean something to you?”

You didn't want to answer that. If you denied it, it would be a lie or he’d either see through it or snap. If you confirmed it, it would feed him more hope. You still had to examine your feelings because you were afraid and you couldn't think with him staring at you with those longing eyes.

“It meant something,” you answered, not expanding on what exactly it meant when he exhaled. It wasn't smart to let him decipher it how he wished because he could use it against you later.

He took your breath away once more when he pulled you close and brushed his lips against yours. Just as quickly as he started, he stopped and brushed his nose against yours. Any passerby would think it was a sweet moment between a couple making up from an argument. “Thank you,” he whispered, his thumb moving along the racing pulse in your wrist. “Come back inside, please? Pick out a few things for real and then I’ll take you home so you can relax.”

You remembered that the bugs were still in your apartment, which took some more of your enthusiasm away. But if Bucky was really going to leave you alone tomorrow, you’d have to appreciate the time to yourself. Maybe you could pack a bag and get out of the city even sooner than planned.

It wouldn't hurt to try, right? What was the worst that could happen? Making him freak out over your safety? That could be bad.

“Okay. A few things for real and then home,” you agreed.

“That’s my girl.” He turned and paused at the door with a smile. “Can I at least help you try on the dress? Or you can model it for me and I'll tell you how beautiful you are.”

You smiled back a little. “Don't push your luck,” you said, missing the pair of blue eyes that watched you and Bucky go back into the shop.

So, a little bit of action. 😏 Will it be enough to tide Bucky over? Is he really going to leave you alone for a day? Who was watching you? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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exuvianen · 11 months ago

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dating hc's with dr. ratio, aventurine + blade!

headcanons about what these hsr men do in a relationship witth you <3

cw: x reader, gn! reader (no physical descriptions), mostly fluff, sfw, headcanon style

notes: hsr brainrot… ahahaha... i hope i have a fairly good grasp on these characters and wrote them well.

wc: ~1050 words, around 350 words per character. all under the cut!

feel free to drop an ask or to add on to my thoughts! likes + rbs are appreciated <3

✎ Dr. Ratio:

He likes parallel play, or being alone together with you. He works on his own projects, like grading papers or writing a new thesis while you’re doing your own thing, like playing video games or reading. Occasionally, he might ask you for your input, such as ideas about his next thesis or what pose he should sculpt himself into next.

He has a spare desk and chair for you in his office. You can choose to do work or entertain yourself there when you visit him and he’s still teaching a lecture, but feel free to take a nap on the plush sofa he bought just for you.

He will nag you about your health but in an annoyingly endearing way. He fusses over you, telling you about appropriate attire for today’s weather, offering you an umbrella, and reminding you to drink water.

He entertains all your ideas, no matter how silly or illogical. He’ll hear you out on anything you say, though he might have some very strong disagreements or objections to your ideas, especially if they are silly or completely nonsensical. However, he never turns you away when you bound up to him with a mischievous gleam in your eyes - he just sighs and prepares himself mentally to hear whatever goofiness comes out of your mouth.

He’s your biggest cheerleader, supporter, and advocate. Though he may come off as intimidating, he is always willing to help advance your career or work. He has many connections and vast knowledge of the universe after all - why not utilize them for his beloved?

He’s very good at dispelling any irrational thoughts in your head. If you’re panicking and your mind is disoriented, he’ll sit next to you and hold your hand gently, but firmly to ground you. He doesn’t speak at all when you vent out all your frustration, confusion, or anger - rather, he’s silently contemplative and then asks questions when you finish talking. He’ll indirectly guide you to a solution while gently calming you down as he dispels those pesky thoughts from your head.

He makes a custom alabaster head for you.

♤ Aventurine:

A big fan of matching accessories and clothing. You don’t need to wear the exact same outfit, but he likes wearing complementary colors and jewelry to yours.

If you’d like, he’d be more than happy to bring you to casinos and public events with him. He wants to show off to you and let you witness his wit, talent, and skill like a peacock presenting its colorful feathers.

He likes it a lot when you trace his skin through the spade-shaped hole in his outfit.

He hates the feeling of being vulnerable, but he likes being around you. This creates conflicting emotions inside of him. Oftentimes, he doesn’t know how to deal with it and just lurks by you. Pull him into a hug to quiet the voices in his head.

He will send you packages or luxury items from the planets he’s visiting. You’ll be greeting a disgruntled Topaz or IPC soldiers at your door as they hand you various gifts ranging from limited-edition jewelry to flowers that bloom only once every 200 amber eras. He gifts extremely grand things, but he always knows how to find things that suit your tastes.

He’s a big spender on you. If you’re unused to the amount of money he’s willing to throw at you, he’s going to give you a lot of “exposure therapy” with his generosity. He’ll invite you to private auctions, lavish galas, luxury boutiques, and high-end jewelry stores. He’ll start filling your wardrobe with tailor-made clothes with the excuse that you should match his outfits when you attend formal events together, but his clothing contributions eventually infiltrate your closet pretty deeply.

He enjoys being pampered and pampering you. Self-care nights are a must - as a representative of the IPC and one of the ten Stonehearts, he has to keep himself presentable and looking sharp, and that goes for his partner too! He’s more than happy to spend money to fund your trips to the salon or buy you any beauty products to use at home. He’d love to put on face masks together and share a drink or two with you.

☠︎︎ Blade:

If you want to, and Elio’s script permits, he will bring you along on missions to safer planets. He’ll drop you off at a commercial district - feel free to go shopping or try out some novelty food while he wraps up his Stellaron Hunter business.

He likes getting his hair brushed. One of his favorite activities is sitting down and letting you comb through his hair after he cleans up from a mission. It’s an activity that leaves him vulnerable, but he doesn’t mind if it’s with you.

He’s an acts of service kind of guy. He moves to take your bags before you even say anything, holds open doors, and pulls out chairs for you. Brings you a cup of water and some fruit when you’ve been working for too long, and silently drapes his jacket over you when you shiver.

Tell him you like a certain pastry and he’ll show up every day and bring some. Show him a picture of a pretty flower and he’s boarding a spaceship to bring the flower to you personally. If you want something, he’ll do his best to get it.

He’s pretty quiet, but he’ll remember everything you say, what your preferences are, and what you like. He secretly writes it down in case his memory gets murky, and he’ll often reread his notes to remind himself.

He gives simple but traditional gifts to you, such as jade bracelets and pendants, and combs and hairpins if you have longer hair to wear or use them.*

He’ll treasure anything you gift to him. If you make an accessory for him, he wears it at all times. If your gift is small enough, he’ll stow it safely in his pockets and take it everywhere with him.

If family is important to you, he’ll send funds their way and ensure that they’re taken care of.

As someone who’s often dead and then undead, his body can get stiff. He’ll enjoy it immensely if you massage him, and accompany him for his daily stretches and calisthenics. Even if you just hold him for a while, he finds that his muscles will relax from the warmth emitting from your body. Therefore, he quite appreciates having you physically near him.

* Combs, hairpins, Jade bracelets, and pendants were given as tokens of love and affection in Ancient China. These gifts have a deeper meaning/symbolism, but for the sake of post length, I did not write them all out.

#exuvia works #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x you #aventurine x reader #dr.ratio x reader #hsr headcanons #blade x reader #honkai star rail headcanons #hsr blade #hsr aventurine #hsr dr.ratio #ratio x reader #veritas x reader #veritas ratio x reader

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mossangelll · 3 months ago

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Dress Me like Your French Girls

yandere!caitlyn x reader x yandere!jinx requested by anon!

took me longer than i would’ve liked (with many tense mistakes included oops) but i hope you can enjoy! i took a lot of liberties with this request and kinda ran with it ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

tw: kidnapping, violence, controlling behaviour, objectification

Bedsheets made of prussian blue silk and white lace borders, floor to ceiling windows that looked out to the great expanse of the gardens, even fresh flowers set on your vanity each morning without fail - all before you even had the chance to rub sleep from your eyes. You knew the beauty that surrounded you was merely a mirage, something to distract you from opening your eyes to its harsh reality. You may be a nobody from Zaun but you’re no fool; you could see the minute you stepped foot in this place you that it was just a prison, even if it had a crystal chandelier.

Today, you’re sat at your walnut desk reading the book Caitlyn - no, Cait, got for you.

It was something about flowers you couldn’t care less about but you know when Caitlyn comes to see you for the evening, she’ll expect to hear all about your riveting day, including your thoughts on the book she gifted to you. Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you turn the page with a gloved hand, but the words and diagrams blur together into a puddle of ink you can’t decipher. Well, as long as you could recount a handful of trite facts she should be satisfied.

After all, she mentioned a special gift that you would both enjoy, that is what her focus will be on for most of the evening.

Your eyes flicker to the wardrobe stuffed to the brim with expensive, custom-made garments that looms over you and you find your mind turns to static in an attempt to block out all the intrusive memories you’d rather lose to the abyss of time, even if you know that you will never be able to cut away Cait’s lasting scars.

She will always intertwined in your life as much as you are hers.

Whenever she brings one of these “gifts” to your room, you know what to expect. It’s never anything sordid - oh, Cait could never do anything as debased as what those cruel animals do. Ever the pinnacle of Kiramman self-control, or as you like to call it - repression. But still, when she’s done, her tongue darts out to lick her lips, her face blooms with all the effort of her rapidly beating heart and she has the demeanour of a woman starved, she simply…retracts into herself as if the inferno burning deep inside of her isn’t roaring to be let out and engulf everything it touches.

It starts with Cait slipping into your room at night with a heavy sigh, head leaning against the ornate doors and fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turn bone white.

The light from the chandelier is dimmed, casting dark shadows to contrast her silhouette and pronounce the weariness of her face, and yet she manages to have not a single hair out of place much to your ever-growing chagrin.

Then, she ambles over to where you’re sat, each tap of her heeled boots in sync with the pounding of your heart, making her own attempt at casual conversation (that somehow always manages to come off as strained, like she has to force the words out from her throat) about your day as if any of this was normal, as if you actually had free will and the ability to make your own choices, not just the the illusion of it all. But that was what Cait was best at, keeping up illusions no matter how cracked and faded they become.

She guides you with hands tight on your shoulders to sit at the ornate vanity, a hand moving to the middle of your back to force it ramrod straight, so she can brush your hair with a featherlight touch from the crown of your head to the tangled ends. Back before you had her rules ingrained into the every other fibre of your being, you told her that you’re not some porcelain doll that could break at the smallest touch but all you get in return was the hardened stare you’d come to know well in the reflection of the mirror - you don’t speak unless spoken to. Always.

She starts to get you ready for bed, ever so slightly calloused hands wiping away the day’s makeup. It felt wrong to see her, sole heir to the House of Kiramman, act so subservient just for you. It was an unnatural upheaval of the entire hierarchy that dictated your life until this point and it never fails to make your head spin with its taboo intoxication.

She saves the part you dread the most for last, and no matter how many times you went through the same monotonous routine, you still felt uneasy every time the clock’s chime rang through the halls closer and closer to her arrival.

Cait ensured she was the only one to undress you from whatever restrictive clothes she had forced upon you in the morning. No maids could be trusted to be anywhere near you, let alone get to see you in such a revealing state. That was reserved for her eyes only.

Graceful fingers weave between the laces of your corset, unravelling the thread at a snail’s pace. Sometimes, though she would vehemently deny the accusation with great fervour, she would yank at the corset strings just a tad too tight, fingers flexing at your waist to calm herself when she felt your hands grasp at her forearms in an attempt to stabilise yourself. You knew just as well as she that she got a sick thrill from how much you needed her.

The corset is soon discarded alongside the rest of your clothing and she traces the curve of your spine, goose bumps rising on your skin like hackles, before choosing your nightgown for the evening from the very wardrobe you despised with each ounce of your body.

She would get you to lift up your arms and have you to stand in the gauzy fabric as she pulls it up your body, not even giving you the chance to huddle in on yourself.

She makes you twirl for her in the centre of the room and her eyes glow in delight as the skirt of your dress fans out and rises before gently falling back down, so close to being indecent but just able to keep from toeing the line she drew. You wonder if the moonlight can penetrate through the thin dresses and illuminate each and every part of you, even the parts you’d rather remain unseen, and if that’s why she makes you do all this, even if she’d never admit it.

She sits you down on your plush footboard and kneels at your feet, blue eyes staring up at you with restrained wonderment. Humming in satisfaction, her hands slowly, painstakingly slowly, push the sheer fabric of your nightgown higher up your legs until you feel the need to cover yourself from her piercing gaze.

Her fingers hook into the tops of your stockings and all you want to do is cross your legs, shove her thin frame away and say no, no, no!

But you know Cait has no patience for that kind of attitude - especially not from you. So you stare down at her, hair free and untamed, and allow her to tug the stockings down your legs, your shaking hands clutching the sturdy underside of the footboard.

She tends to stall at this point, hands instead choosing to lightly stroke and swirl patterns on the doughy flesh of your thighs. Your chest heaves even more than it did before and far beyond what should be humanly possible and you find it hard to understand exactly what is going through her mind at that moment.

Cait wears her heart on her sleeve and though you ache to use that against her, it’s still so hard to pick apart her actions that it leaves your head spinning with the commotion of it all.

Time passes slowly in the still of your room as she inches closer to you, almost imperceptibly, until her head lays on your kneecap so softly you wouldn’t even know she was there if not for the light tickle of her hair.

Her lips leave paper-light kisses on your skin as she mumbles you through the intricacies of her day, things you could never even begin to understand, but you can tell how much it means to her just to be sat with you - the enforcers, her critical mother, every single expectation that is forced upon her shoulders, it all fades into the background as the frown on her face slowly dissipates.

Once she’s content she continues pulling off your stockings until they lie in a crumpled pile on the carpet next to her. You don’t know what she does with the stockings but you never see them again, another of Cait’s great mysteries.

Such an intimate routine that you know is unnervingly chaste. No lingering touches or stolen kisses you can’t object to, it never goes beyond that point and somehow that makes it so much worse because you spend your days in wait for a day that you know will come eventually - you just don’t know when.

She leads you to your grand, four poster bed and tucks you in with such an overwhelming amount of love just oozing from her pores that a part of you almost wishes this was ok, that you met her under normal circumstances and that you actually loved her.

“Beautiful.” she sighs without fail every time she’s done getting you ready, stroking your hair in an attempt to get you to sleep. Though you’re never quite sure if she’s talking about you or her creation.

You slip out of your trance and look at the golden hands on the clock you swore had gone forwards despite no time passing at all. You’re still on the same page you were ten minutes ago - shit.

The curtains were drawn, letting in rays of light that hit the crystal chandelier. You would’ve found the whole affair to be beautiful if it wasn’t for the fact that the light refracted directly into eyes - you had to work hard to resist the urge to squint your eyes or blink.

Caitlyn- fuck, Cait! You feel the urge to rip your hair out at each stumble and mistake. You could never trip up like this in front of her, not if you wanted to steer well clear of her punishments.

Cait doesn’t like to see you make ugly faces or anything even remotely human, “Such… crude expressions don’t suit your face, darling.” She said in that soft tone of hers but the words would be dripping in derision.

Her hand would ghost the side of your face, so close to touching you that you could feel the warmth radiate from her but then she pulls away like she was being held back by some invisible force. But, to your surprise, she pushes through the internal conflicts that raged within her and her hand would return to grace the side of your face and trace from your brow bone down to the apples of your cheeks which she would gently cup, the other hand going to smooth out the lines and tension that marred your forehead before letting out a small, “All better.”

It’s hard to remember what life was like before Caitlyn sunk her claws into you, before you stopped being human and simply became her toy. You don’t know how she managed to take you - all you know is from the loving declarations she whispered in the dead of night about how she would stop at nothing until she got you - as if you would swoon. All you felt was sick to your core.

Click. Click. Click.

You hear footsteps just outside your door and freeze - why is she here so early? You hurry to your assigned place and assume doll-like role Cait expects from you. You can hear fumbling at the lock and the door handle jangling from the force of her hand. Today must have been rough on her which means your evening ritual will last longer than usual. Bile rises up your throat at the thought but you school your features into the perfect mask of neutrality. There, you think, all perfect for Cait.

So you find yourself surprised when instead of Caitlyn in her all-consuming haughtiness, a false pretence you saw through long ago, you see a woman with long blue braids and a ferocious smile stalking towards you without a care in the world.

How did she get past the guards?

“Lookie here, you’re the hidden treasure our fair lady has been keeping hush about. My intel didn’t tell me it’d be so…delicate.” She swung her head back to bark out a sharp laugh as a manicured hand twirled a graffitied gun around her finger. Still, when her laughter stops, she stares at you with a look you can’t decipher, something…darker swirling in her dilated eyes. Something you’re certain you’ve only ever seen in Cait’s eyes.

“Not like she’s doin’ a good job.” She speaks off to the side in a lazy, condescending drawl, a hand covering her mouth, and you search the room for the invisible audience. What is going on? Who is she?

Suddenly, the lithe intruder jumps to your place at the desk, slinging her arm around your shoulders in such a familiar way you can’t help but feel flustered.

“Hiya, toots. I’m Jinx and you are…?” She waggles her hand in your face before trailing off in wait of an answer but you keep your eyes trained in front of you. Not a single movement betrays you.

You can tell this upsets her as the conspiring look on her face quickly turns sour - she’s not used to being ignored.

She swings herself around with surprising dexterity and lands in your lap before you can even process what’s going on - she’s so close you can feel each puff of air leave her nose and hit your face in short bursts.

At this distance, you can notice every little detail that marks her face. The skin surrounding her pink eyes streaked with dark, branch-like veins. Her gap tooth and dark purple lipstick that stained her plump lips. The soft curve of her rounded cheeks and the misbehaving strand of cerulean hair that escapes the confines of her long braids. She smells like gunpowder, sweat and a hint of the cloying sweetness that could only be from artificial sugar. Her clothes are tattered but full of life and personality with each spot she had sloppily sewn back together herself - most importantly, she was everything Cait wasn’t. A welcome breath of fresh air in your own, albeit unnecessary, opinion.

Her cold hands poke at your cheeks in a childlike manner, indignation bubbling up inside of you and so close to bursting out. Why did everyone treat you like an object to be observed and played with?

“You are a real person, right?” The intruder squishes your cheeks together, staring into your eyes with rising suspicion. What kind of question even was that?!

You want to fidget and squirm, desperate to get away from whoever this Jinx is but the cautious voice in your head stops you, what if this was a test from Cait? To see if you would remain loyal to her? To see if you would stick to her rules no matter what?

But she claps her hand with a resounding crack that echoes throughout the room, maybe even the entire wing of the manor judging by how the birds outside took off, and your whole body jumps in shock completely abandoning your desire to remain as still as Cait would expect of you.

“Hah! Caught you! I knew you were real!” She jumps up from your lap and fist pumps the air. She seems so proud of herself for finally eliciting a reaction out of you that you decide it must be ok to test the waters and figure out exactly what is happening here.

“W-who are you and what are you doing in my room?” Your voice is low from disuse but it still manages to catch her attention away from her victory dance.

Her pink eyes wander over your doll-like figure, so unnaturally stiff and composed. It was as if you were posed and left to rot away in your dollhouse until your owner came to play with you again.

“I think I know how ya’ feel, all alone like this. You wanna be happy, tell me I’m wrong.” She shrugs with an air of indifference, but she’s anything but. The cogs have started turning in her head and set into motion a plan she can’t resist despite the immorality of it all. A plan where she saves you from this place so you can be happy - with her. Then again, when has she cared about morals?

Tremors ripple through your body and you gulp, not knowing where to look or what to think. You won’t give in to her downright cruel line of questioning, no matter how much you want to scream out that you were kidnapped and you just want to go home.

“I have no idea what you mean.” You decide to settle on instead, turning your back at the only chance of freedom you had.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong - I mean look at you. You’re dressed up like a stupid Piltie and you’re telling me you can make your own decisions?” Her hand gestures to your get-up and you look down at yourself in shame, face feeling hot and your limbs shaking, “Pfft, and here I thought I was the liar.” She shakes her head in derision.

“I’m about to do you a favour, toots.” Her arm reaches to hold onto the back of your chair, blocking off any path of escape, and she stares dead into your eyes and you can’t help but startle at how cold they are, not even a speck of warmth hiding beneath the surface. She slinks off to stand behind you where you’re unable to figure out what move she’ll try to pull next.

Before you can start to question what she meant, a sharp pain hits you in the base of your skull.

Flashes of colour swim in your vision and the sudden urge to throw up overcomes you before you lose control of your body, slumping over from your seated position and hitting the floor before everything fades to black.

masterlist

#request #arcane fanfic #arcane #yandere jinx x reader #arcane jinx #jinx x reader #toxic jinx #yandere!jinx #jinx league of legends #yandere caitlyn x reader #arcane caitlyn #caitlyn x reader #toxic caitlyn #yandere!caitlyn #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn league of legends #yandere

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lindawrites · 4 months ago

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Claggor Imagine ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Description: fluff, friends to lovers, au!Claggor

A/n: hi!! First time writing a fic so pls don’t expect too much ty <3 decided to give it a try because Claggor just needs more love (divider by cafekitsune)

“I swear Mylo, if this is one of your tricks again,” I muttered as I tend to the customers at the last drop. "No, I swear this time! Claggor told me that he really needs your help with his new invention,” he crossed his heart and smiled. Powder chuckled and nudged your shoulder “I’ll take over your shift, now go and don’t let your boyfriend wait for too long." "He’s not my boyfriend?” I muttered as red started to appear on my cheeks. "Not yet,” she winked. I groaned as I gathered my things and left the bar. “You were messing with her, weren't you?" She looked towards Mylo who just shrugged, “All they need is a push, they’ll thank me later.”

I quickly fixed my appearance before knocking on the door of his workshop. “Come in” a voice behind the door grumbled as I slowly entered. “It’s me” I smiled entering the place and seeing him hunched over his desk. “Oh y/n, I didn’t expect you to visit. Is there something you need?” He looked towards me and shyly smiled. “Mylo told me that you needed my help for something?” He rolled his eyes and looked away. “Not again” I approached him and touched his shoulder, “anything wrong?” He straightened his back, blush evident on his cheeks. “Don’t worry about it. Since you’re here anyways, I’d like feedback on something that I’ve been working on” He guided me towards a room with his hand on my back, “Sure, is it one of those hybrids you’ve been working on?" "I guess but not the one for Zaun, it’s another thing I’ve been working on” I entered a room and noticed a flower in a secured jar. “is it that one?” I pointed towards it, and he nodded. “Claggor….It’s beautiful” I stared at the hybrid flower, mesmerized as it was shining in my favorite color. “You think so? I’ve been trying to perfect it for a while” he leaned towards the doorframe, lovingly staring at you while you were busy staring at his work. “It looks good to me, any reason why you made this?” He started coughing and I approached him out of concern “Its uh…I made it for you actually,” he muttered as he tried to look at anything but me. My eyes widened as I tried to take in what he said. “Wait, you created a flower for me? Why?” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He finally looked at me and hesitantly held my hands, “Can’t you tell y/n? All the longing stares I gave you, the teasing I get from my siblings about you. When you complained about how you had trouble focusing, I spent weeks building a music box for you to listen to. How I try to get to know you more by constantly annoying you with questions—“ he was rambling while I just stared at him in awe “—I’m sorry if you see it as me being weird but” He stopped when I removed my hands from his and slowly put them on his face “no no, claggor I…I’d be dumb enough to not like you back” I mumbled as he held my waist and looked deeply into my eyes, “I’d be a fool not to like you, climbing to your bedroom window when we were young to get away from my siblings and to feel comfort from you. Always trying to defend me from those who made fun of me. I’d be a fool to not like someone who’d always seen me as something more than what I thought I was, someone who’s as perfect as you” Eventually, his face was close to mine, noses touching, waiting for the other to make the next move. “What happens next?” I whispered, heart beating rapidly at the close proximity. “Whatever you want, we could even get married for all I care” I giggled as he leaned in closer, lips almost touching. “Let’s first go through the dating stage, loverboy” I jokingly rolled my eyes as he smiled “Finally,” he muttered as he finally kissed me. My hands moved towards his neck while his tightened around my waist. “You don’t know how long I’ve dreamt for this to happen.”

Bonus:

I walked back to the bar, with Claggor by my side, displaying a proud grin on his face. “There you are! And it looks like you’re not alone” Powder smirked as she noticed her brother stuck by her friend’s side. Claggor rolled his eyes as Mylo approached us and patted our backs. “You see Powder, I told you I'd get them together no matter what, no need to thank me” “You know what? Since you helped us, how about I help you by bringing Gert here? Hey gert!” “HEY WAIT CLAGGOR STOP!”

#arcane claggor #claggor x reader #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane season 2

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emacrow · 1 year ago

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Danny has an aggressive secret admirer and that Admirer is Damian wayne. If Damian has succeeded with his plan of kidnapping danny after carefully researching.

Danny woke up a bit refreshed after what he felt like was a 3 hour power nap after eating the most delicious burger he was given gift wrapped up in a present box found in his locker after school..

Only to noticed fenton designed looking a like of handcuffs on his hands, feets as he lays in a cushion like bed with certain red and blue duck candles lit with green fire.

A hand written runes of ancient writing on the galaxies like blanket he was laying on. Blue weeping flowers petals on the floor surrounding the bed.

Now this was interesting... before he noticed the person behind this all, Danny's eyes were glowing, looking at Damian. The liminal classmate who shyly glances at him every now and then when he thought he didn't noticed.

He did his research right as he can see Damian was not even trembling nor falling on his knees under the weight of Danny's core pressuring in this room before offering Danny something that he did most value to his very soul.

It wasn't his blood, nor hair, or a weapon.

For ghosts have no uses for those things but what they desire most of all even after death.

It was a necklace, beautifully made and designed to look like scattered or stars but what they were made with crystallized emotional tears of pure even a bit unhinged love.

Damian's face look red.. his eyes were a definitely puffy and reddish underneath with the amount of tears he has cried. His greeb eyes look determined and a bit dilated.

Danny stared back as Damian wavered didn't changed a bit even after 30 minutes had past.

"I accepted your courtship, but you could've just texted me to met at a certain time instead..?" Danny spoke with a bit of a flattered smile growing as his eyes widen noticing Damian wasn't even done yet with how he open a curtain to reveal a custom coffin and grave stone specifically made for danny along with flowers, plushes and offering breads for the dead.

OH.. Oh he definitely marrying him now. Now let him sleep in the coffin before danny start crying too.. also hand him some of that bread too.

#dp x dc crossover #trans danny phantom #dpxdc #damian a sneaky little stalker #danny is the ghost king #all danny wanted was to sleep #danny is definitely marrying him #crystallized tears are like the best gifts #for ghosts #ghost core #danny doesn't have a grave #he does now #damian wayne x danny fenton #dead serious

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coeurcanelle · 1 month ago

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𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬˙⋆✮

pairing:cowgirl!ellie x bartender!reader

°~♡~°

for valentines day, you and the cowgirl you promised never to get attached to,offer each other gifts. suspiciously thoughtful gifts.

tags:fluff,loser ellie

a/n:I'm 4 days late but its cowgirl Ellie so it's fine

It was the 14th of February. You had just finished your shift, the scent of vanilla filling your home as you focused on not burning your homemade cake.

Knock, knock.

Then silence. And another knock.

You didn’t need to open the door to know who was standing on the other side.

It couldn’t be anybody else.

Quickly, you made your way to the front door, turned the knob, and opened it.

Cowboy hat.

Yep, it was your favorite cowgirl in town.

"Sweetheart," she said softly, the nickname slipping past her lips before she could stop it. Her smile reached her emerald eyes, and it would take—well, something serious—to wipe it off her freckled face.

Your own smile widened; it had already been there the moment you recognized her knocking.

She wasn’t empty-handed, not on this day of the year.

Nope. She held a bouquet—lilies, dahlias, and roses, all carefully arranged together in a beautiful display.

"Thought today was a special day," she said, tilting her head slightly. "And that your place could use a little… how do I put this? Less tragic, more aesthetic." She extended the bouquet toward you, fighting the urge to tuck a flower behind your ear.

You chuckled, carefully taking the bouquet. "Not you too."

Earlier at the bar, plenty of cowboys had offered you roses and letters—it wasn’t unusual. You were used to gestures of affection and gratitude for your service. But none of their gifts were the ones you had been looking forward to receiving today.

"What kind of cowgirl would I be if I didn’t spoil the prettiest songbird in town?" she teased, pride swelling in her chest. She mentally congratulated herself for not stammering or—accidentally—letting a 'my girl' slip instead of 'prettiest songbird'.

You raised an eyebrow, playfully. "Thought cowgirls dont get attached."

She looked surprised for a second.

You and Ellie had met at the bar, of course. And quickly, she became your favorite customer—more than you would ever admit.

At first, it started with free drinks. Then, you’d take her song requests, singing her favorites at the bar. Then, fingers grazing while passing her drink. Then, soft kisses on her cheek for goodbyes. Then, tender kisses on the lips.

Still, she kept her cool, as always. "Hey, those folks all got you flowers, but that doesn’t mean they’re wifing you up. Unlike me, who—"

Shit.

What are you doing, Ellie?

"I mean, what? Who said that? Not me."

"No strings attached." That’s what you told each other every time. Ellie wasn’t the type to settle down with her cowgirl lifestyle, and you? You weren’t looking for anything serious either.

"Mmh"you narrowed your eyes, her cheeks burning red like a tomato.

"Don’t 'mmh'me," she nudged your arm playfully. Keeping her hands to herself around you had always been a challenge.

"Where’d you buy them?" you asked.

"Buy?" she scoffed. "I got them myself, ‘bun." Her grin was proud. "I was out riding with Shimmer, and we— listen, we gracefully stumbled upon this cute lil’ meadow near your bar. Guess what? I tripped—which happens, like, once in a lifetime—and the flowers just magically landed in my hands." She watched you bite your lip, trying not to laugh. "Couldn’t just plant ‘em back in."

If she could, she would’ve taken every flower from that meadow.

For you.

"Yeah, spread that story—tell everyone you do magic and watch them show up with torches and pitchforks the next second."

You laughed at your own joke, and Ellie joined in.

"Thanks, though. I’ll make sure they don’t accidentally end up in my trash bin," you teased, making her roll her eyes.

It would sting—no, hurt—if you really threw her gift away. But the way you carefully held the bouquet told her it wouldn’t land in the trash.

Maybe—hopefully—somewhere close to your beating heart.

You opened the door wider, inviting her in. But then, she hesitated.

She reached into her pocket.

Almost forgot.

"I also, uh…" Her fingers brushed against something small. She had spent the entire day before debating if it was too much, if it would scare you off.

Still, the thought that it spoke small volumes of her feelings won.

"You got more? You didn’t—"

And now she was holding out a small red box.

"Open it," she said, watching you carefully. You swore you could see a sparkle or two glinting in her eyes.

You hadn’t expected something so thoughtful from her. Not that she didn’t know how to treat a girl, but…

It made you wonder if all those stolen kisses had ignited something in her heart.

Still, you set the bouquet aside and took the small box,opening it gently.

Your heart warmed at the sight.

A necklace. With a cute heart-shaped pendant.

"Let me guess," you smirked. "You fell off Shimmer again and accidentally bought someone’s necklace, while being just concussed enough to let the vendor pick the cutest one for you?"

You reached for your neck, trying to clasp the necklace on yourself.

Instantly, Ellie stepped behind you, brushing your hair away. Her fingers grazed yours as she worked to fasten it.

"Close," she chuckled. "But still wrong."

You tried to ignore the way your heart raced at the closeness.

The necklace was secured, and Ellie stepped back, turning you around by your hips.

"I don’t fall off Shimmer that much."

Her gaze fell to the necklace.

You didn’t look exactly how she had imagined.

You looked even more beautiful.

Your eyes met hers, almost entranced.

Cute.

"You know this doesn’t mean I’m yours, right?" you teased.

Ellie instantly looked away.

What was wrong with her?

She always thought she never wanted to settle down.

So why was her mind suddenly filled with images of you and her, riding Shimmer together… forever?

She cleared her throat, trying to sound put-together. Ignoring the pang of disappointment in her chest.

"Just a friendly gesture. From your favorite cowgirl." She scratched the back of her neck, nervous again.

It was becoming a familiar feeling around you.

"The only person you get to kiss," she added.

She wasn’t wrong.

"Sometimes," you smirked.

Ellie’s eyes flickered to your lips before darting back up, refusing to let her thoughts wander.

"Feelings can change before you realize," she said, softer this time—like a gentle spring breeze.

You tilted your head. "You hated me before, cowgirl?"

Ellie blinked, her brain short-circuiting.

"What? N-no, that’s not—ugh." She sighed, mentally cursing herself. It’s not like she had been practicing how to confidently respond to your teasing every time before knocking at your place.

"Yeah, I absolutely despised you," she deadpanned.

More like you absolutely despised her

Fuck.

She should have said that.

"Never heard someone say that while grinning like a bunny high on carrots," you teased.

She dropped her smile and threw you a glare.

She wasn’t a fucking bunny. Or high on carrots.

But wait—bunnies were cute.

So that meant…

You thought she was cute?

"Can you quit bullying me already?" she groaned, nudging your arm again.

The smell of vanilla reached her nose and for once it didn't smell like a burnt cake.

Her lips curled into a smirk. "I know you got something for me somewhere."

"Somewhere… how did you know?"

Her smirk turned into a grin. She knew you thought about her—maybe as much as she thought about you.

"I think it’s in my trash bin. Hold on, lemme check."

Maybe she was getting her hopes up too much.

But maybe…

Maybe she wasn’t.

♡°♡°♡

After dashing to your bedroom, you rummaged through your drawer, searching for the gift you had been preparing for this very moment.

Your fingers brushed against cold metal.

The revolver Joel had given Ellie.

She had come into the bar one night, a rare pout on her lips, complaining about how she had broken it and couldn’t fix it because of some missing piece.

You weren’t just good at mixing drinks—you were good with your hands in other ways too. And when you saw the way her eyes lit up at your offer to help, you knew you had to fix it.

Now, it rested in your palm, good as new.

Wrapped in a pink bow.

A rush of excitement coursed through you.

You hoped it wasn’t too much—just enough to make Ellie happy about using her gun again.

Hiding the gun behind your back, you stepped out of your room, closing the door behind you with a soft thud.

She was sitting on the couch, looking comfortable, like she was in her own home.

"Keeping the trash bin in the bedroom? Questionable placement," she chuckled, her mood noticeably lighter than before.

You were sure she had rehearsed teasing you in her head, refining the perfect delivery until her brain and mouth worked in sync.

"Does this look like trash to you?"

Her eyes widened as you brought your hands forward, revealing the gun.

It looked usable.

Like it had never been broken before.

And solid enough not to break so easily again.

Unbelievable.

"No fucking way." She stood up, taking it carefully, her eyes locking onto yours.

She looked at you as if you were a magician capable of bending logic into mind-blowing miracles.

"You're a damn wizard," she murmured, calmer than the storm of surprise raging in her mind.

You chuckled, casually explaining how you fixed it, leaving out the part where you spent hours searching for replacement parts, scouring through every tool and guide you could find.

To you, it was just a simple favor.

To her? It meant everything.

Because this wasn’t just any revolver.

It had belonged to Joel.

She had sworn to herself she’d never get to use it again.

Just when her shoulders were sinking under the weight of her recklessness, you had lifted the burden of an unfair universe off of her.

And no words were big enough to express her immense gratitude.

"Thanks… really. I thought I'd have to—"

"Got you this too." you interrupted, grinning.

Her gaze flickered to your other hand.

And then—

Her eyes widened again.

"You’ve got to be kidding me."

She stared at the plushie in disbelief.

A cowboy teddy bear.

Decked out in a blue flannel and jeans, tiny belt included. And of course—holstered with a tiny gun. A real cowboy.

For a long second, she said nothing.

Then—

"How the hell did you know?" she demanded, mind racing.

You shrugged, playing it cool. "I have my ways."

Total bullshit.

You had discovered her secret accidentally.

It had all started with a kiss.

Her lips had been on yours the second you stepped into her house after your shift, her boot kicking the door shut behind her,her hands gripping your hips, holding you close—like even the smallest distance might set her on fire.

She had walked you backward, step by step, toward her bedroom—until suddenly, she broke away.

"Wait a sec," she muttered.

Before you could ask why, she had vanished into her room, slamming the door shut.

Then—

Chaos.

Objects falling. Closet doors slamming. The distinct sound of a bed being shoved against the floor.

And—was she about to start mopping the floor, too?

When she finally emerged again, breathless, hair messier than before, she tried to act so casual—like she hadn’t just gone into full panic mode.

But you had seen them.

A glimpse of soft fur. The small round ears peeking out from under her bed before she violently shoved them further beneath it with her boot.

She thought you hadn’t noticed.

You had.

And now, here she was.

Face flushed.

Busted.

"No plushies were harmed or mistreated, okay?" she said quickly, already on the defense. "I just… hid them. ‘Cause, y’know, they would’ve totally fucked up the mood and stuff."

"You better think nice of Ellie Junior," you teased, "and spare him the terrible living conditions beneath your bed—dust and all."

She froze.

"Ellie what?" she sputtered. "Okay, first of all, I clean under my bed regularly—"

"Like every year," you cut her off.

She silenced you with a finger against your lips.

"Like every week," she corrected, her voice sultry, desperate to sound convincing. "And you're not naming this lil' dude Ellie Junior."

She took the plushie gently, already picturing where she would place him.

First, she had to give him a name. A better name.

Actually—no. First, she had to thank you.

Still, she couldn’t believe you weren’t teasing or mocking her about this whole thing. You had picked this gift with her in mind. A little cowboy. A cute little cowboy. Which meant…

"He kinda looks like you," you mused. "With the clothes, the gun, and—"

You grabbed Ellie’s hat, gently placing it on the teddy bear’s head, its frame nearly disappearing beneath her hat.

"The signature Ellie Junior the First hat."

"Yeah...no"Ellie deadpanned. "Not Ellie Junior. Not Williams. Not anything stupid.

Instead, she reached for her hat and placed it on your head.

You blinked.

Ellie smirked.

"Now that’s a look," she muttered,fighting the urge to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear and let her fingers linger on your cheek

You adjusted the hat, clearing your throat. Then, doing your best impression of her, you dropped your voice lower.

"Hey sweetheart, s-s-till got a bottle of whiskey for m-me?"

Ellie’s jaw dropped.

Then she burst out laughing.

"I do not sound like that," she argued.

You smirked. "Sounded like a cute cowgirl to me."

Ellie blinked.

Did she hear that right?

"Really?"

You nodded, your voice softer now. "Yeah."

Damn.

You sounded honest.

Was this a first?

If it was, she hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

"Say it again," she murmured, stepping closer.

Your heart did that thing again.

The warming-up thing.

So, you spoke with your melting heart.

"You’re cute, cowgirl."

Ellie’s eyes lit up again, sparkling with happiness, affection, and excitement.

But mostly…

Hope.

Without any warning,she leaned in, closing the last sliver of distance between you.

Her lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss—the kind that could melt every block of ice in Antarctica with the fire of something so much more than platonic.

She wasn’t afraid to drown you in the waves of her affection.

Not when your lips moved with the same tenderness, whispering a thousand words neither of you had dared to speak.

Maybe you didn’t mind this turning into something serious.

Maybe commitment wasn’t something to be afraid of.

Not with Ellie.

Because in this moment, you knew—

You didn’t want to be anybody else’s.

And neither did she.

#ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie fluff #ellie x reader #wlw #ellie williams x reader #tlou2 #loser!ellie #cowgirl!ellie #cowboy!ellie

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tsukumomei · 2 months ago

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—as long as it's you

ft. Sae Itoshi

summary: everything was in place, but when his mother accidentally reveals the surprise, sae has to improvise. wc. 1.3 k

Sae had it all planned out.

He wasn’t the type to make grand romantic gestures; he preferred to keep things simple and understated.

But for you, he wanted to try, because he knew you deserved nothing less.

You loved people, gatherings, and celebrations. You thrived in the presence of those you held dear, so he’d taken note of every little thing you loved and orchestrated an evening just for you. Sae rented out the quaint, secluded garden café that had become your spot—a place where you made countless memories with.

The place would be adorned with soft fairy lights, casting a golden glow over the field. To top it all off, he had planned a fireworks display that would light up the night sky with the words: Will you marry me?

He really was going all out for this.

The tables would be draped in elegant linen and scattered with your favorite flowers. He’d chosen a menu you would love, with dishes catered to every one of your favorites, down to the dessert: the same tiramisu you raved about during your first date.

It's great because it's so unbelievably out-of-character for him to do that you'd never guess it.

And then there was the ring.

He’d spent weeks looking for the perfect one, turning down countless designs until he found a jeweler in Italy who could create something unique—something as special as you. A custom piece: a delicate rose-gold band with a center diamond that sparkled like starlight, flanked by tiny sapphires to match the color of his eyes.

The ring had finally arrived today, nestled in an elegant velvet box. He held it in his hands for a moment, marveling at how something so small could hold so much meaning. The anticipation was almost unbearable, but there was still time to wait. He tucked the box into a drawer in his study before heading out to handle some business, reminding himself to grab it later.

Just as he was leaving, his mother noticed the package in his hand. "What’s that, Sae?" she asked, her tone light and curious.

He hesitated, then gave a faint smile. "Just something for y/n."

But fate, as it often does, had other plans.

Later that afternoon, you dropped by on a whim. "I just wanted to visit," you said with that radiant smile of yours, and Sae’s mother welcomed you warmly. She adored you—always had, ever since you and Sae were kids running around the neighborhood together.

As you chatted with Sae’s mother over tea, her voice turned light and casual, as if she were sharing a harmless little secret. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, setting her cup down with a soft clink. “Sae mentioned he got something for you. It’s in the study drawer over there. You should go get it.”

Your eyes immediately lit up with curiosity, a delighted smile spreading across your face. “Really? What is it?!” you asked, excitement bubbling in your tone as you pushed your chair back and made your way toward the study.

Sae’s mother opened her mouth, realizing her mistake too late. “Oh, wait—” she started, but you were already out of earshot.

In the study, you scanned the room quickly before spotting the drawer she mentioned. With eager hands, you pulled it open and found a small, elegant box sitting right on top. The rich, deep velvet of the box alone made your heart race.

You gasped softly, fingers trembling slightly as you lifted it from the drawer. It felt heavier than you expected, the weight somehow adding to the anticipation. Holding your breath, you carefully opened it, and there it was—the engagement ring.

The soft light from the study window caught the diamond, sending a brilliant array of colors dancing across the room. The intricate rose-gold band gleamed, and the tiny sapphires flanking the center stone shimmered like they held a secret of their own.

For a long moment, you were stunned. Your lips parted slightly in disbelief as your heart pounded in your chest. It wasn’t just a ring; it was the ring.

You turned back toward the kitchen, holding the open box in your hand. “Is this…?” you began, but the words trailed off as your eyes met Sae’s mother.

Her expression mirrored your shock—wide-eyed and horrified. Her hands flew to her mouth, her face flushing with the realization of what had just happened.

“Oh no…” you both said in unison, the words hanging in the air like a shared confession.

Sae’s mother shook her head frantically. “I—I didn’t know! He didn’t tell me what it was!” she stammered, clearly panicking.

You let out a nervous laugh, holding up the box. “This is what he got for me?” you asked, voice tinged with disbelief and amusement.

She nodded, still looking mortified. “I think I just ruined everything.”

And that’s how the proposal venue shifted from a dreamy garden setting to the family kitchen.

When Sae came home later that evening, the scene awaiting him was… not what he had envisioned.

You and his mother were seated at the kitchen table, both looking unusually guilty, like two kids caught raiding the cookie jar.

His mother was the first to react, rushing to him with the velvet box in hand, her words tumbling out in a flurry of apologies. "Sae, I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know—I didn’t think she’d actually open it!"

He blinked, then sighed. Well, so much for surprises.

His gaze shifted to you. There you were, cheeks glowing with embarrassment. He could tell you were trying to act innocent, but the slight twitch of your lips gave you away.

He set the box down on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something. Then, with a resigned sort of determination, he grabbed the box and turned to you.

“Oh well,” he said with a shrug, his tone deadpan but his eyes soft. “You already know, so I might as well do this now.”

Before you could process what was happening, Sae was down on one knee in the middle of the kitchen, holding the ring up toward you.

“You will marry me,” he said matter-of-factly, already taking your hand. “You don’t have a choice.” He slid the ring onto your finger with the same no-nonsense precision he used in every part of his life.

The sheer audacity of his approach made you burst into laughter. “You’re lucky I wasn’t going to say no even if you did ask properly,” you teased, your smile widening as you admired the ring.

His mother, standing nearby, had already pulled out her phone and was filming the entire thing, tearing up at the unexpected sweetness of the moment.

As Sae stood, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close. Your voice was soft, laced with both joy and disbelief. “So, this is it,” you murmured, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

He gazed down at you, his hands settling gently on your waist, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. His lips curled into the smallest of smiles, but his eyes were filled with so much love it took your breath away. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a warmth that wrapped around your heart. “This is it.”

Sae’s expression shifted slightly, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “I had it all planned out, you know? You would’ve loved it—the garden, the lights, the fireworks. It was going to be perfect.” He gave a small, sheepish smile, but his gaze never left yours.

You reached up, cupping his face gently in your hands. “Sae,” you whispered, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “I’d take anything as long as it’s with you.”

The engagement was sealed right there—not in the garden surrounded by flowers and fairy lights, but in the cozy kitchen, filled with the lingering aroma of coffee and laughter, and a witness armed with a smartphone.

Though it wasn’t the grand, meticulously planned proposal Sae had envisioned, as he looked into your eyes, he realized something important. The sparkle of the ring on your finger paled in comparison to the glow of your smile, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

The garden, with its fairy lights and fireworks, would now be the backdrop for your engagement party—the perfect imperfection of life’s unexpected moments.

And as you leaned up to kiss him, Sae couldn’t help but think that this, right here, was better than perfect.

—

a/n: I am indeed a victim of the Sae brainrot

#(っ´ཀ`)っcienefics #blue lock sae #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #sae itoshi x reader #bllk sae #itoshi sae #sae itoshi #sae x you #sae itoshi fluff #sae x y/n #itoshi sae x y/n #itoshi sae fluff #bluelock #sae bllk

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bunny-jpeg · 4 months ago

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｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა a butcher au - max verstappen ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

max could've been a lot of things. but he was very good at cutting meat. those curious blue eyes didn't flinch at the sight of guts and blood. he simply worked and he in turn lived a happy life. in a way it got certain frustrations out, that he was never a good driver. when he craved up meat for sale at the small shop he worked at, in the apron and heavy gloves, he liked that no one recognized him. the weight of expectations didn't fall to heavily, instead he got thanks yous and no one praying for his downfall. he did have favorite customers though. the old nonnas who came in who were very particular, but always left heavy handfuls of change in the glass tip jar. the love sick man trying to win of a new woman of the week with his attempt at fine dining. and you.

you had lived out in the small town near the italian and french border for a few months now. an aunt of yours had died almost a year ago and you get saddled with the small property she owned. you took it as a chance to go somewhere else, having lived in the bustling city in another part of the world. so, the small town life was nice. and every week you'd come in and see max. he was always happy to see you. he'd often say to you, "i think i have something better in the back." before he flashed you a smile and headed to find a better cut.

he liked you, there a fondness he carried for you. you were just very polite and sweet. your grasp on both italian and french was a little rusty, but max was helpful as he wrapped up your order and told you to have a nice day. over the months you became comfortably familiar.

while max was comfortable at a distance, he was surprised when he heard your voice from the front. he looked down at himself, elbow deep in an animal all morning... staining the front of the apron and the gloves he wore. there was even specs who knew what on his upper forearms. "shit." he sighed to himself. he knew that his job required getting a little dirty, but he didn't want the beautiful woman who came in every week to see him look like a serial killer. he quickly took off the apron and gloves (even attempting to pick the dried blood off his arms) before he went to see you. you were at the front with other groceries in hand. you were just in yesterday. he looked at you with a little confusion. and you simply smiled. you placed two sunflowers wrapped in last weeks newspaper on the counter near the cash register.

you couldn't look him in the eyes when you asked him, "i couldn't wait for you to make the first mood, max. but... would you like to have dinner with me?"

max picked up the flowers, they looked beautiful even in the somewhat bad lighting of the butcher shop. he looked to you, your smile had dropped and you looked nervous. while max was wrapped up in receiving flowers and your request, he realized he hadn't said anything. he put the flowers down and took you by the hands across the counter and said, "yes! of course!"

you ended up having dinner with max at your home a few nights later. you two had been texting over the course of those days. and while he found himself comfortable messaging you. being in your home felt nerve wracking, he hadn't been on a date since he left his home town after he turned eighteen. but, you looked beautiful in the kitchen. making sure that everything was perfect for dinner. occasionally his eyes would scan over your form as you worked in the kitchen. you seemed to natural there. the way you prepared the sausages in the pan (the ones he sold you days prior) made max feel more at ease. there was a joke there about you knowing how to prepare meats. while most of the time he simply ate vegetables when he got home, after being around cut up animals for hours on end made him want to eat a stalk of celery by the time he got home. but to see someone so beautiful work a kitchen marvelously and the end result being something so beautiful.

"i made these rolls earlier today." you said as you brought the bowl with some on there, "i'm not the best baker ever. i'm pretty sure i can't compete with the place a few doors down from you." you laughed as you turned back to around to grab the pot of stew that you finished.

max eyed you behind as you walked away and was already in love.

you returned with dinner in hand, oven mitts protecting your hands from the hot surface of the pot. it smelled good. it smelt like home. and it made max feel warm all over as if his body wasn't heated from the warm summer night. you smiled when you sat across from him then clinked your wine glass with his, "to the first date in a long time." and max took a sip, he got lost in your eyes for a moment. and there was little room for dessert when you pulled max into the bedroom. the bed frame creaked as he was almost pushed onto it. you stood in front of him and he wrapped his strong arms around you then kissed at your clothed middle.

the clothes came off and he saw you eye his chest for a moment. he almost wanted to recoil a little from the attention. he wasn't built like a statue. he was strong for years of lifting things around the shop and walking to and from home every morning. but before he could say anything or move, you ran your hands down his chest. feeling his soft skin under your palms then said, "holy shit, this is what's been hiding under those aprons you wear." he looked away for a moment felt heat in his cheeks before you pulled him by his chin into a heated kiss.

you got max onto your back and straddled his waist. you watched him swallow before you kissed him along the neck and collarbones. your rubbed yourself up against his abdomen and shuddered from the stimulation of your clit. max clutched onto the covers under him and you went in for another searing kiss. it was perfect, you were perfect. your movements were slow, feeling him up against you. it was teasing for both of you until you got yourself seated on his cock. which made him tense up and feel a flare of his across his body. your hands on his strong shoulders for leverage as you moved up and down. max shuddered and his swallowed hard, "shit. please." he said as you moved against him. you replied, "you feel so good. i'm surprised no one else has tried to pick you up in town." you giggled, the heat in your cheeks was heavy. he simply held onto your hips and started to work alongside you, letting the pleasure bubble up, "i get nonnas and their granddaughters visiting from overseas. usually they are too scared to talk to me. or i'm too scared to talk to them. they see the blood or the animal in the back and get scared." maybe it wasn't polite to talk about work while he was fucking you, but you didn't seem to complain. he found that you didn't flinch at how the sausages were made in the shop. he clutched further onto your soft hips. his hands were used daily for taking apart the meats that arrived. he was usually in the back carving like he was making a masterpiece. the anatomy of the beast burned into his head. but while he held you, his touch was full of tenderness.

he wasn't trying to carve himself into your skin, he wanted to make you feel good. he wanted to be good in your world, and as sweet moans left your lips he knew that he was doing just that. he looked up at you with those blue eyes, the pupils a little wider from the heat in his body. the euphoria that was a drum in his chest as he continued to meet your pace. he then added, "plus, now i have no reason to talk to them. not when i have you." you blushed a little bit, looking away for a moment as he did earlier before you leaned in and kissed him on the lips. your hands splayed across his chest as you worked along his cock. up and down as a fire burned in your belly.

you two kissed once more as you pace started to stagger. you felt the heat become fuel in your blood as you worked his cock. he felt like a dream, an utter euphoria that you couldn't put into words. you had been with others before. but in the low light of the home you now owned with a man you met by chance while living in this small town. there was a certain niceness to it. a comfort you longed for while stuck on packed buses or falling asleep during meetings on a year prior. in the warm heat of the summer, you felt good as you moved against him. so long tinder, so long bumble, you met the man of your dreams while he was covered in blood, whose hands worked diligently every day to deliver the finest cuts of meat. not only to you but to large portions of the town. maybe it was love right off the bat, regardless you felt a warmth in your chest for him.

you kissed once more as you both loss the rhythm, soon you finished with a moan against his lips and he followed soon after. he clutched onto your hips tightly as you continued to thrust on top of him. eventually the pleasure flooded your brain and you slowed down to a stop. the kiss was broken and you both panted heavily. max cupped your face for a moment ans said something you couldn't quite pick up, but you responded with, "right back at ya." between heavy pants. and max knew it was love.

you soon laid in bed with the butcher, curled up against him. both feeling the after shivers of climax. you felt comfortable in the crook of his shoulder and your face up against his softer chest. you could tell he was strong, but wasn't opposed to homemade cooking.

he lazily took your hand in his other one and kissed across the knuckle. he sighed against your fingers, rubbing them up against his cheek soon after, "if this is a ploy to get a discount

you looked at him and chuckled, "damn, my plan is ruined."

he chuckled, "i'll need a few more homemade meals before i can do that. don't want the little nonnas to think they can seduce me into better prices." then kissed your hands once more.

you sighed and pressed further into him, feeling a sense of comfort in his arms, "next time i'll bring more than flowers."

he simply laughed, but in the back of his mind he thought, don't bring me a ring. that's my job. and maybe it was a little bit too soon to jump to that next step. but, as he held you in his arms it felt like a perfect piece. he wouldn't mind giving you discounts, of course if you were married then it would be free. but as he kissed the top of your head and heard your breathing level out and eventually fall asleep, it felt nice. it felt like home.

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amostnobleyandere · 6 months ago

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Persephone, Swept Away Into the Deep

Yandere! Wriothesley x GN! Reader

Summary: You’re a florist who catches the eye of the Duke, ruler of the underworld in Fontaine—and as the object of his affection, there’s nothing you can do to avoid your fate.

Warning(s): yandere, toxic behavior, possessive behavior, mention of blood, violence (Wriothesley beats someone up), stalking, obsessive behavior, unjust execution of the law, possessive behavior, corrupt official Wriothesley (?), drugging (needle injection), kidnapping, captivity, implied stalking, non-consensual touching, forced romantic relationship

A/N: I’m not sure if I did a good job at translating the themes ✨ of the hades and Persephone myth (however slight they may be in this particular fanfic) but I tried ;)

—————————

Every happy customer that came out of your shop would inevitably spread your business through tongue—that’s just the way things worked in Fontaine.

Of course, you weren’t complaining. You were running a thriving business and their lively conversations often brought you joy and pride. The little gardener on off of main street, the florist who sells the most beautiful bouquets you’ve ever seen, the flower shop tucked away like a hidden gem, they’d say, fondness in their tone and the echo of good memories in their minds.

You were proud of the lifestyle you had made for yourself and the reputation you had garnered. Your natural green thumb had made your shop quite popular among commoners and socialites alike, as anyone of any class could stroll inside to find something for a person precious to them; whether it was a child, a spouse, a friend, or an infatuation, you had helped mold their stories, crafting and shifting them around petals and bows.

Though some days, you let yourself dream. Of petals and bows, not meant for someone else, but meant for you. Though your business had seen many love stories, its owner had yet to find a love of their own.

On your worst days, you scoffed and thought to yourself about how ironic your life was.

But…some days, your aching romantic heart would have you sighing wistfully as you watched customer after customer buy carefully cultivated blooms to gift to their beloved. They would leave gleefully, only for you to remain in your shop, watching them walk out with a piece of you. A piece that you wanted to give to your own special someone.

Always watching, never experiencing.

And then suddenly, everything you had built was being torn down by the one thing you desired the most.

—————————

On a day that was insultingly ordinary considering the damning events that followed it, you were sitting in your shop, furiously pruning flowers and cutting stems and leaves. You were a little behind in work, so you had kept your shop open later than you usually would.

A festival was going to be thrown at the center of the city, and that meant you were busier than ever. Business was slow at the time, but it always picked up during events, as it was common for people to take advantage of the merry mood and ask out the apple of their eye, or propose, or buy a bouquet just to enjoy life.

And your bouquets were certainly beautiful, as you had heard from the many couples that walked into your shop, fawning over the arrangements and each other. You were sure you would see many lovers come into your shop once the joyous celebrations began.

You sighed, feeling the solitude of the your profession begin to seem depressing. It made you happy knowing your creations would be appreciated, yet, you knew the festival would end up torturing your heart with the same stale loneliness you often felt.

Friends had invited you to come with them to enjoy the festival together, so you weren’t all alone. Ultimately, you had declined.

Business would be booming.

…Plus, it wouldn’t be as special if you couldn’t go with someone special. It would only hurt to go out into the bustling streets and to see all those people holding hands, touching arms, carrying your bouquets, while your side was cold and your hands were empty…

You snipped at a rainbow rose a little too hard, hissing as the tip of the shears nicked your finger. You watched in mild panic and exasperation as the blood began to fill the small cut, feeling a sting form in your finger. Reaching for the medical kit you kept close by, you swiftly treated and bandaged yourself, watching the gauze go from white to a bright red.

Shaking your head, you waved away the pain and your nasty thoughts. You were sure your friends would be fine without you and, more than anything, you needed to be here to sell your flowers. It would be a waste to throw out your beautiful blooms because you let them wither, and soon customers would be grabbing for them…and who knows? Maybe you might meet someone.

Maybe you would even find someone to enjoy the festival with….

You heard the telltale ding of a bell and looked up, peaking out from behind the wall of floral remains you had constructed around yourself.

A man walked into the shop, and the first thing you noticed is that he was handsome. And big. Like, slightly intimidating big. A large, built stature, with broad shoulders and heavy boots on long legs. You pinched yourself, feeling your cheeks slightly heat up. Who were you to get flustered? And by a stranger? Pull it together.

“Hello!” You greeted cheerily, thankfully turning on your usual customer service voice without problem. “How can I help you today?”

“You’re still open?” The man asked, a note of surprise in his voice. The question sounded weirdly familiar for it to be spoken by a stranger, but you chose to ignore it. Plenty of people knew your hours, it wouldn’t be odd for one of them to send a new customer over.

You paused, taking him in. The stranger was tall, dark, and brooding, a person that looked strangely out of place in your little safe haven that was crammed to the brim with mosaics of colorful flora.

However, his eyes were the clearest color you had ever seen. They were like steel in their cool quickness, taking seconds to size you up. You unconsciously shrunk under the pressure of his gaze. Still, you smiled up at him.

“Yes, sir. We’re still open. What can I get for you?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I’m not exactly sure. I came here because of a recommendation; they say you’re the best in town, with the freshest flowers. I’m guessing you outsource from the country?”

“No, sir. I grow them myself.” You said, still smiling sweetly.

A flash of recognition behind those steel eyes. “Ah. You’re the owner then?”

“Yes, sir.”

He hummed, looking away in thought. “I’d like an all blue bouquet—something with an air of delicacy to it. Nothing too fancy, just something pretty and light.”

That sounded…really romantic. Delicate? Pretty? Those were words people used to describe bouquets with romantic intentions behind them. You had heard them time and time again, as you carefully put together arrangements and your customer fawned over the person it was for, tone sugary sweet. Those words never failed to clog up your chest with a bitter jealously.

A feeling of disappointment filled your chest and your heart sank. Of course, he was already going with someone. It seemed that everyone, except for you, had a date for the festival. Of course. That made sense. Anyone that good looking would most likely have a date—

You smiled, sweeping away the disappointment and putting back on a false merry face. You had just met this man, really. What was there to be sad about? You decided to fill the silence that was quickly making you want to curl up into a ball and hide.

“So you’ve got a date for the festival? I’m sure they’ll love it, since you seem to know what they’ll like. Can I get a name for the order?”

“Wriothesley. And, no. I haven’t got a date.”

Your brain short circuited.

“But you’re so good looking?” You blurted out, the thought in your head coming out of your mouth without warning.

Wriothesley looked momentarily stunned, and you wanted to scream. Of all the times to embarrass yourself in front of a cute guy, it had to be now—

“A-Ah!” You stuttered out. “I’m sorry! Sometimes my mouth moves faster than my brain! I just said what I was thinking, I hope you’re not insulted by it…or uncomfortable….not that I meant to insult you—“

He laughed, the sound startling you. When he looked at you again, he seemed less guarded, his eyes shining with mirth as he gazed at you with interest. Oh, and that smile. Oh wow. That. Wow.

“You know, people are usually too afraid to say stuff like that to my face. Or really, they’re too afraid to say anything to my face. Guess I was just lucky to meet you today, huh?” He grinned and let his voice drop as he spoke. The glint in his eyes turned bright, like a dancing flame. He leaned into your space, letting one arm rest on the counter.

You felt the smooth words roll down your back and over your skin, excitement or fear (or maybe a mix of both) running up your spine and through the rest of your body.

You laughed, trying to play off his words as if they were meant to be friendly. (At least, you thought they were meant to be friendly.) Maybe the naturally deep tone of his voice and his intimidating aura made your brain misinterpret harmless words as…predatory.

You grinned. “Well, I don’t know about luck, but everyone deserves a compliment every once in a while, right?”

He leaned back, that dangerous glint disappearing into his eyes as if it was never there. He crossed his arms, looking smug.

“Right.”

Silence filled the air again, and your curiosity got the best of you quickly.

“Goodness, I’m sorry but who is this for then?”

He chuckled and you were immediately relieved that he wasn’t annoyed with you. People didn’t like it when others pried into their business. The thought of Wriothesley with his leather boots, pretty face, and icy eyes glaring at you with disdain nearly sent you into shock.

“It’s for…a co-worker, you could say.” He continued. “She does a lot for me and I thought it might be nice to get her a gift to show my appreciation. Everyone’s in a good mood with the festival coming around, so I might as well, you know?” He smiled. “Sorry to disappoint you, though. No romantic feelings involved.”

You nodded, a weird feeling of relief filling your chest after finding out that a man you didn’t know and that you probably would never see again did not have a date for the festival.

Maybe you were just glad to know that you wouldn’t be the only person going without a partner.

You began to gather sample flowers, spreading them out between you fingers and taking comfort in the familiar weight of them in your hands.

“Not disappointed at all.” I’m also single, you thought, but thankfully didn’t say out loud. “I guess I’ve just gotten so used to lovebirds walking into my shop, I was surprised you weren’t one of them.”

“Because of my face?” He asked, amusement seeping into his tone. You wanted to smack that smile right off of his smug, beautiful face. Of course, you wouldn’t, because that would be a crime to everyone else who had eyes. You couldn’t mess up that piece of art.

You nodded, your face burning. “Because of your face.” You confirmed.

“Well, I’m flattered.” He said.

You thrusted the sample flowers out in front of you, mortified that he was making your already embarrassing situation worse with teasing.

“Pick out the ones you like.” You said, your face practically on fire.

He did, without further comment at that, but a smirk pulled at his lips the entire time. He looked at you, with that grin molded onto his perfect lips, more than he did the flowers in your hands.

He refrained from torturing you with teasing remarks for the rest of the conversation, and when you told him it would be ready for pick up in a few hours, he gently placed a bag of mora on the counter.

Only when he was walking out the door did you realize how much mora he had given you.

Your eyes bulged as you peeked into the bag, nearly fainting at the amount. Who carries this much on them?! What if he had gotten robbed?! Well, he would probably never get robbed looking like…that, but still.

“Hey!! Wait—Sir!! You gave me way too much!”

He waved as he closed the door behind him, the bell ringing cheerily as he ignored you protests without even turning around.

You stood gaping behind the counter. You turned to the bag, determinedly picking out the correct amount and putting the rest away so that you could throw it at him when he came back. Not his face, though. Never his face.

A few hours later, he came back, his face neutral and undisturbed, like nothing in the world could move him to react.

He saw you, and his expression twitched and changed, looking just as smug as when he left.

You wordlessly pushed his bouquet, which you had worked extra hard on out of spite, not because you wanted him to like it or anything, towards him. Again, without saying anything, you pushed the bag of mora back towards him.

He quirked an eyebrow but kept his mouth shut, also determined to win the quiet challenge that you had started. He (rather cheekily) slid the bag back towards you, a smile fighting to pull onto his face.

You, more forcefully this time, slid the bag back towards him, face betraying no emotion.

Eyes sparking with amusement, he held out his hand.

Oh my Archons. You thought. What does that mean? He doesn’t want to….does he? You hesitatingly raised your hand in response, suspicious of the man in front of you. He gently slid his hand under yours, making your heart pound in your rib cage. His gloves covered most of his hand, but the skin that did touch you was startlingly cold. Your skin downright tingled where his touched yours.

Whether it was from the temperature or just him, you didn’t know.

He placed the bag of mora in your hands, a graceless plop and a cheerily jingle sounding through the quiet room.

Okay. You take it back. This mora was going directly at his face.

“This mora is going right at your face.”

“What?”

“What?” You parroted. Inside, you were crying. The first time you’ve ever threatened a customer and it’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

He chuckled, the sound low and deep and long and archons even his laugh sounded angelic.

“I could’ve sworn you just—“

“I didn’t.” You cut him off, panicking. You pushed the bouquet towards him, hiding behind it. “Enjoy your day. Thank you for your purchase. Have fun at the festival.”

“…Thanks.” He said, still amused, but following your lead and taking the flowers from your waiting hands. For a moment, maybe on purpose, his hands brushed yours, the touch sending a spark of electricity up and down your arms, making your heart beat faster….Must have been the cold from his skin, sending you into shock or something.

He left the shop (without the bag of mora) and you wistfully thought that you would never see that beautiful face again, kicking yourself for not asking him out. You were both single, right? Right??

Ultimately, you went home with the same familiar wistful feeling that soon turned to giddiness at having almost held hands with such a handsome man—his personality was odd but that could be overlooked.

Overall, it was a good day.

——————————

Except he was there the next day.

And the next.

….And the next.

Everyday he would order a bouquet of a different color. Once he ran out of colors, he began grilling you on what kinds of flower combinations you liked best. You would tell him, practically shaking while trying to prevent yourself from imploding, and that’s what he would order. He spent an enormous amount of money at your shop as the ridiculous mora bag battles continued (you were going to throw it at his face, you really were. You just needed to muster up the courage).

He would take the flowers home, and you would be left with a burning face and a quivering heart.

Then one day he asked you if you would like to go out. With him. Together. And you said yes, tying a bow around his order with trembling hands as a strangling giddiness filled up your entire chest.

So, you went to the festival with him right after work.

For the first time in weeks you were closing the shop and stepping out into the fresh air during the middle of the day.

You had an amazing time.

You found out that Wriothesley was extremely funny, and that his dry, sarcastic wit could have you doubling over and laughing in seconds. You found out that he liked tea like, a lot. Like a concerning amount. You found out that the co-worker he gave the first of many bouquets to is a melusine and a nurse. You found out that he talked to the Chief Justice regularly and somehow knew a lot of important people.

You explained to Wriothesley that you actually did have a life outside of flowers. You told him about your friends, your hobbies, and whatever else you could think of in the moment, feeling comfortable with him after just a few hours together.

He bought you food, somehow correctly guessing your tastes at every stall you visited. When you protested and offered to buy him something in return, he merely shook his head with a smile and said you could buy him lunch another day.

You walked together through the streets under golden lights, eating delicious food and buying trinkets. At the end of the night, you tentatively inched your hand toward his, and he interlaced your fingers together, holding your warm palm against his cold one tightly.

You felt yourself grinning like an idiot, thinking that absolutely nothing could change the way you were feeling.

Everything was going great until you got back to your shop, laughing and chatting idly with the man beside you.

Your heart stopped as you realized that something was wrong, and your hand left Wriothesley’s for the first time that night as you ran towards the open door.

The entire place had been ransacked. The money in the cash register was gone. Your precious flowers—countless blooms that you had taken the time to grow and cut had either been stolen or trampled on. One window had been smashed in with a brick. You lifted up your foot, feeling the shattered glass break into smaller shards under the pressure—Archons, it was everywhere. Luckily, the small vault you keep most of your savings in was still closed but dented in multiple places and on its side.

You nearly collapsed on the floor right then and there. It was only Wriothesley, who caught you as you were falling to the ground, that kept you from completely breaking down. You were mourning. All of your flowers. All of your hard work, ripped from your hands, without so much as a warning.

You felt rage and misery burn in your chest, resulting in hot tears running down your face as you pathetically picked up the ruined flowers scattered across the shop floor. Next to you, shadow cast Wriothesley’s face in darkness, hiding his expression from view. You heard him assure you that he would take care of it, that he would fix all of this for you, as he told you not to worry in that perpetually assertive tone of his. Your muddled and distressed mind immediately clung onto it like a life line, desperate for something to ground you.

Wriothesley would take care of it, you told yourself. If not him, then who would help you?

—————————

You found out soon after that the man who had robbed you was a rival store owner whose business had gone under ever since you had moved in. His storefront was situated on one of the more populated streets, streets that saw more foot traffic and that attracted customers of a higher class. Still, he had been losing to you, a small shop on some nowhere street, for months. In the end, arrogance and jealousy had driven him to attempt destroying your business.

Whether it be from fear and intimidation, or hopelessness from losing all the money you had made in the past couple months, he had hoped that you would chose to pack up and leave after he ruined the inside of your shop.

Fortunately, he was not a master criminal. A few shop owners on your street had seen his face and identified him to the guards. According to rumors you had heard from friends, he fought the guards during his arrest, shouting that he was not some lowly commoner to be pushed around. The guards and some mysteriously clothed people flooded around him, dragging him to the court house and sentencing him within the hour. He was allowed to go back to his shop, as his home was above it, but was put on house arrest for the time being and had guards stationed outside of every window to await further punishment.

It had happened so…quickly.

Wriothesley, during all of this, was very supportive.

—————————

It all came crashing down on the last night of the festival, a week after you had been robbed.

You were in the process of walking home before you realized that you had left your keys in your bag.

…Which was at the shop.

…That you would have to go back to.

Groaning, you made yourself turn around and trek back towards the storefront so that you could actually get into your house.

As you walked down the main strip of stalls and shops, you realized with a bitter heart that you would have to pass the shop of the man who made your life hell to get there and back quickly. You were glad that he had been caught and sentenced swiftly, but you were still incredibly angry about the damage that had been done to your business. The mental and emotional wounds left from the shock of seeing everything you had worked for destroyed were still fresh.

You fastened your pace as the night lamps began to turn on, the sky quickly turning dark as they became your only source of light. You knew the city was mostly a safe place to live, but that didn’t mean crime never happened, and it would be just your luck for you to get robbed a second time.

Then there was shouting.

You slowed your pace as you heard a voice echo off the tall buildings, only amplifying the panicked screams.

Uh oh. Had you walked right into a crime scene?

You looked around you, noticing that there were no guards in sight. Hopefully they had noticed the trouble and were taking care of it.

You sighed. You really needed to get into your house, as you weren’t too keen on sleeping on a bench for the night. Cursing whatever being had brought this upon you, you continued forward, walking in the shadows and hoping to avoid whatever drama was happening near the home of the man who had robbed you.

You turned a corner, freezing as you took in the sight of a group of men huddled together, seemingly trying to apprehend someone—

Wait. Was that—

You recognized that figure—those boots—that coat…

What was your boyfriend doing here in the middle of the night?

Swiftly, you moved back out of the light, eyes trained on the man you could now clearly recognize. You watched as Wriothesley raised his fist, his knuckles connecting harshly with someone’s jaw. You startled at the harsh noise of skin splitting skin.

You felt yourself flinch as blood splattered across the pavement. For a moment, you were grateful for the imposing figures blocking your view of the violent scene.

The victim was splayed across the stone due to the force of the blow, thrown right into the circle of people that had formed around him, pathetically whimpering as he tried to pick himself up.

You watched as he was dragged away, looking genuinely terrified, screaming bloodcurdling words as he went mad with fear. His pleas fell on deaf ears as those around him stood still, Wriothesley silently watching as he was picked up and thrown into the back of a carriage. The door squealed as he yelled that he didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve to go to the Fortress of Meropide, please—doors slamming shut, cutting off his final sentence as the men and the carriage disappeared into the night.

Wriothesley stood under a street light, a short distance away from where you hid in the shadows. His body was tense, his back drawn tight as he gazed at the retreating carriage, with the man he had assaulted and doomed to a life in prison lying within.

You stumbled back, you feet scuffling against the pavement. The noise sounded like an explosion in the dead quiet of the street.

His entire body stilled. He turned around, almost in slow motion, his eyes widening in horror as your gazes met.

You spun on your heel and ran, heart pounding in your chest. Heavy footfalls followed you, leather hitting stone with threatening thumps that seemed to get closer to you with every passing second.

You got to your shop, flinging open the door and rushing to the back of the building, heading towards the closet where you kept all of your supplies. Hearing the bell above your door chime mockingly, signaling that Wriothesley was in your shop oh Archons, you slammed the door shut and locked it from the inside.

For some reason, you could have never imagined him being so violent. You were shocked and terrified, seeing your new boyfriend, who you had only ever thought of as safe, as anything but. Now you knew. He was dangerous. You were so stupid for trusting a complete stranger—

You heard him run towards your hiding place, calling out to you as the heavy foot falls slowed to a stop.

“Y/N.” He said, voice calm and level, betraying no emotion at all. It was like he was discussing the weather and hadn’t just chased you down the street.

Your breathe hitched in your throat. Somewhere, in your frayed mind, you hoped, prayed he would just go if you were quiet enough—

“I never meant for you to see that. I’m sorry. Let me explain.”

The doorknob began to turn. It stopped, hitting the lock.

You heard rustling and then a faint jangle as Wriothesley stepped away from the door.

You had left your keys in your bag.

The bag was on the counter, the keys were in your bag—

….He knew where you kept your keys?

You had never told him that.

The door knob began to turn. You grabbed onto the it with a white-knuckled grip, stopping it from the inside.

Your heart thrummed in your chest, beating rapidly as you desperately held onto the cool metal.

“Leave me alone!” Please was left unsaid. You shouted the words, terror making you shake and tremble.

Wriothesley fell silent. You heard him lean his weight against the door, his movements causing it to creak.

The doorknob stopped turning.

You prayed that he wouldn’t try to force it, or worse, break the door down. You didn’t know if it would hold, or if you could hold on, considering how strong he was.

You imagined his hulking figure standing outside, only a few mere inches of wood separating you, towering over you from your spot on the floor.

You were practically paralyzed with fear, and didn’t know what you would do if he actually managed to get in and get his hands on you—

“Damn it, I ruined it all, didn’t I?” Wriothesley murmured.

You jumped, not expecting the despairing admission amidst your racing thoughts that were trying to pinpoint where you had went wrong in life.

His usually playful voice was monotone, eerily flat for the self deprecating words he spoke.

You didn’t deign him with a response. You merely listened to the quiet that followed, feeling more scared than you would have been if he had been raging and banging on the door. There was something about the silence; something about it felt foreboding, like a threat was creeping up behind you and you couldn’t hear it no matter how hard you tried.

You heard him turn away a few minutes later, heavy footfalls walking towards the door, and finally the bell signaling his departure.

For a few minutes, you sat there and waited.

Eventually, you opened the closet just a sliver, looking out into the dim lighting with flickering eyes, checking every possible corner that he could be hiding in. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t in here.

You slid out of the closet and almost immediately ducked behind the counter, still shaking from the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Shakily, you peeked out from behind the counter, checking for any sign of him outside. When you found the street to be devoid of him, you silently gasped in relief.

You ripped your keys out of the door with rushed hands.

You went home alone, without Wriothesley, who had taken it upon himself to personally walk you there almost every night of the week. A part of it felt strange to deviate from the routine, but you needed no reminder to know that the man you had trusted and spent time with all week was now a dangerous threat. You ran to the door of your home, opening it hurriedly and slamming it shut.

You tossed and turned as you slept that night, a doomed feeling settling in your churning stomach.

—————————

The next day, you took measures to start rebuilding. Perhaps you were just frantic to get back to some sense of normalcy after having the rug ripped out from under you the other night—or maybe you were desperate to have something to keep your mind off of the buzzing anxiety that was constantly gnawing at the back of your mind.

The man who broke in had already been put on trial and sentenced to an undetermined amount of time in the Fortress of Meropide, and had also been forced to cough up more than enough mora to cover the damages.

This, oddly enough, had all been told to you by a third party, someone hired by the court to watch over legal proceedings.

Someone was pulling the strings behind the case, and you didn’t want to think about who it was, just in case the pieces started falling together. (Deep down, you already knew.)

When you had heard he was being sent to the Fortress, you felt something in your gut twist unpleasantly, a kind of stone-like anxiety that weighed and sunk a permanent pit in your stomach. People who went there didn’t usually come back, or if they did, they weren’t the same. They weren’t viewed the same, either. What would happen to him once he came back? If he came back?

You shivered as the memory of him being dragged away resurfaced.

You sighed as you swept up errant pieces of class, determined to discard of every shard before you allowed any more precious customers or flowers to come through the door. The window had already been replaced, as a very nervous man had knocked on your door a few days after the…incident with Wriothesley, and claimed that he had been sent to repair it. You hadn’t even talked to anyone about fixing the window. A sinking feeling appeared in your chest as you watched the jumpy man chip away at glass and wood, his movements tense and swift. When you went to close the shop, you checked if you had locked the door three separate times before rushing home, practically running through the stone streets, running from absolutely nothing at all.

There was no sign of Wriothesley during the months it took your shop to recover. You were glad that he had taken what you had said to him in your moment of fear seriously. Still, you feared that he would show up on some random day, at some random time, and catch you off guard. That you would be reminded of the violence that seemed to follow him like a shadow, leaving trails of devastation in his wake.

Everyday you went home glancing over your shoulder while walking briskly down the street, always making sure to make it home before dark.

—————————

You unlocked the door to your home, hurriedly glancing behind you as you shoved the keys into the lock, pushing the door in quickly as it gave way. You closed and locked the door behind you, allowing yourself to relax minutely against the cool frame.

“Back so soon? I noticed you’ve been closing earlier nowadays. What’s that about?”

You froze, an ice cold fear creeping through your veins.

There, sitting in the dark of your unlit living room, was the man you had been simultaneously avoiding and thinking about constantly for months.

You could make out the silhouette of his hulking figure, leaning back into your favorite chair with his fingers laced together and knees spread apart, relaxed and causal. His eyes, which always held a mildly scrutinizing gaze, had turned razor sharp—they hadn’t moved from you since the moment you had stepped into the room. You were a pinned butterfly under that look, being dissected and picked apart by glacial, stormy irises.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, your voice coming out a little more shakily than intended. You tried not to hyperventilate. You really tried, but you could already feel your chest tightening, like just being in his presence was suffocating—

He stood up. Rooted in place, you didn’t dare move. If you tried to run, you knew he would catch you.

He moved towards you slowly, like he knew just as well as you did that you couldn’t escape.

He stopped a foot away from you, his height easily trumping yours, his figure casting a large, beastly shadow in the dim lighting.

You tilted your head back to look him in the eye. Even now, those icy eyes were beautiful. You thought it was unfair. Now that you knew what he was, what he was capable of, you thought, his eyes should come as warning. They were the eyes of a predator. And yet, still cold and steely, clear like cryo vision that hung from his hip, which you had never even seen until now.

Still beautiful, reminding you of clear water and arctic oceans and quiet. It was so quiet.

Neither of you spoke. Neither of you dared to break the careful silence.

He reached up, curled fingers gently caressing your cheek, dragging down along the side of your neck, as if a simple touch with too much force behind it would shatter you.

His eyes flickered to the place where your shirt had lifted to expose your collarbone, coat hanging off your shoulders and pulling the fabric down.

He ran his fingers over the exposed skin, making you shiver as you felt rough, calloused pads run across you gingerly, lightly. A delicate touch from a hardened man. He looked back at you, his eyes soft. Intense. Adoring. He had moved closer in the last few seconds, you remarked. You only noticed because you had to crane your head up more to look at him. His chest touched yours. He leaned down, ghosting his lips over your forehead. His hand had moved. One had settled on your waist, holding and trapping you close to him.

You felt a prick in the side of your neck, vision going black as you collapsed into his arms.

—————————

The next time you woke up, you weren’t in your house anymore. There was gauzy, heavy fabric hanging above you. You had been placed in a canopy bed in a room that was expensively furnished, and yet somehow untouched. You were in a bed, which was in a prison, at the bottom of the ocean.

Wriothesley walked in only an hour after you woke. You had a feeling he had been routinely checking to see if you were awake.

He looked down at you, his eyes painfully tender in a way that you regretted not noticing before. There was a fondness, a suffocating fondness, which told you that all those things he now whispered to you at night—how he wanted to protect you, how he had longed to have you for so long, how he had been watching you from afar with his heart in his hands, just waiting for the right moment to give it to you—

His eyes told you that they were all true.

Somehow, you couldn’t hate him.

Wriothesley had been living as a lonely prisoner in his own kingdom—his underwater kingdom that he ruled, because he thrived on the depths of the cold, dark ocean and its inhabitants that yielded to his power.

And yet the king of the underworld yearned for just a little bit of life. Life that you were familiar with—life that you thrived off of, and that thrived in return under your guidance. Life that you loved.

Life that had attracted you to him.

You didn’t know if anyone still talked about you on the surface; if they talked about your existence, or more so your disappearance, in hushed whispers with shifty eyes. No one talked about you down here—no one knew you existed, except for the head nurse and your husband.

You had been stolen away, under the ocean, that little shop off main street missing its owner forevermore.

You, who had always been surrounded by the life of the surface, had been transported to the underworld, a land of misery and lost souls, away from all life, surrounded and trapped by the love you once longed for—and mourning the life you once had.

—————————

Reader: *lets go of Wriothesley’s hand bc they got robbed*

Wriothesley: oh this jerk is gonna pay *sends the guy who robbed you to the bottom of the sea*

he’s been waiting to hold that hand for so long )):< wtf dude

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