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justmymindandstuff · 4 months ago

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melting Ice - Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: You are about to marry Aemond Targaryen. Your arrival at the Reed Keep is greeted with coldness and you have a hard time settling in and coming to terms with marrying into this strange family. But after a restless evening you can't take it anymore and go to talk to Aemond. This evening brings you and your betrothed a little closer as he lets you see behind his facade.

Words: 2.971

Warnings: angst?, arranged marriage, insecure Aemond

A/N: Frist time writing Aemond // English is not my first

language// no beta reader// Gif not mine // no use of Y/N// AO3

I hope you like this :)

You crawl through your stuff. You've been back in Red Keep for a week, but your belongings are not all unpacked jet.

The hot summer air radiate through the stones of your new home and you whipe away a few drops of sweat from your brows. You miss the light briese that always go through your cambers in Casterly Rock. The heat in Kings Landing is muggy and brings the stank from the city and not the fresh air of the sea. But you're gonna have to get used to it.

It's unlikely you'll ever see your home again. Not once you're married. This is the fate of thousands of Ladies in the seven Kingdomes . You all get shipped of to marry and never come back home.

For your betrothed you are a burden. You're back here for a week and maybe you exchanged two sentences with the prince. He was in no way rude, but neither was he really warm. You got the feeling it was more of a inconvenient for him than anything else. He doesn´t want to spend any minute with you. He ignored your invitations to go for a walk or for a afternoon tea.

You sigh. At least you won't marry a man who could be your father or grandfather. No, you're the future bride of Aemond Targaryen. Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Maybe you have luck with your husbands age. And you will become a princess. That's the dream of thousands of young ladies, and you can live it. From the outside it sounds perfect. Like a song.

The reality is different.

In reality, you are a pawn in the game of power, securing the loyalty and armies of your family for the Targaryens.

This marriage is a reward for years of service from your family.

Instead he dumped you on his sister. Helaena, a sweet girl who is fixated on insects and with her thoughts everywhere except in the here and now. But she was the only one that makes you feel you are welcome here. She was the one who showed you around and invited you to tea, go on picnics, walk in the gardens or do handicrafts. She also introduced you to her twins. Sweet children that you can't keep apart yet.

The Queen only gave you a cold smile and explained her wedding preparations to you, she didn´t ask for you opinion of your wedding. But you think that´s the way your life is from now on.

Aegon, your future brother in law is an arrogant prince who likes to drink and spend his time with whores. Not one nice word comes over his lip just a rude remark about your appearance as the whole family greets you after your arrival.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath and rub your temple to get rid of the slight headache.

At Casterly Rock you felt trapped. A golden cage guarded by lions. Your cage is still there, only now you're being guarded by dragons.

And for a little while you had hope. When you were younger, you went to King's Landing with your mother to get to know your future husband. He was a sweet, almos shy boy, with a kind smile who had discussed history with you for hours or dance with you at a picnic. You thought your stupid girls dreams were coming true.

Is this your life now? Lonely and alone surrounded by strangers?

This is not how you imagined it all. You've known half your life that you would be Aemond's wife. The betrothal was make when you were just a little girl. And of course you were excited to become a princess. Your stupid little girl dreams were full of romance, love and your knightly prince with blonde hair.

But now there is nothing left of the boy from your memories.

Will your marriage be like this? Married to a stranger?

Aemond Targaryen had grown into a cold man who had an almost dangerous aura around him and observed everything with an arrogant distance.

The sweet smile you remembered is gone. You're sure he hasn't smiled in years.

You put a few of your writing utensils on your desk. Your thoughts go to the letters you wrote to Ameond over the years, but one day he just stopped answering you. Did you do something wrong?

Was this marriage doomed to failure from the beginning?

You sigh again and try to push your thoughts from the past away.

It had been a sunny day that slowly turned into a beautiful evening. The setting sun is still shining in your window. You've already had your dinner with your mother and now there's nothing left for you to do. But you are restless. The thoughts of your future life do not allow you to find peace. Gods you are a Lannister from Casterly Rock. A lion! And not a decorative piece that gets ignored and sidelined. Aemond shows no interest in you and you want to know why. The question of what you did wrong haunts you. In your home you were always surrounded by friends, the lords who visited your family praised your kindness and your beauty. You enjoy reading and you are sure that you are a pleasant conversation partner. However, your future husband seems to prefer to ignore you.

You feel lonely. As lonely as you've never been in your life.

No! Your life won't be like that! You refuse to accept this. If Aemond wants to ignore you, he has to give you a good reason for it.

You straighten your back and smooth down your skirts. With quick steps you reach the door and leave your chambers.

"My lady, where do you intent to go?" the guard at your door asks.

"I'm visiting my betrothed." you answer without stopping. The guard follows right behind you.

"You have been instructed not to leave your chambers alone."

"I am not alone. You are with me."

"But my lady..."

"Enough." you just interrupt him. You definitely won't let him change your mind. You will talk to Aemond! But after a few steps you stop. You don't know where the prince's chambers are. You turn slightly to face the guard.

"Where are the prince's chambers?" you ask.

"I must ask you to return to your chambers."

You grimace. "You swore to serve House Targaryen Correct?"

"Yes my lady."

"In a fortnight I will be a Princess of House Targaryen. So you also swore to serve me."

"But my lady.."

"Please."

The guard shifts from one foot to the other and shakes his head slightly. "I have instructions..."

"Fine. Don't help me, I'll just find the way on my own. I hope you're willing to follow me through the Red Keep all night." You turn around sharply to continue walking.

"The other way. Here." you hear after a few steps behind you. You turn around again and look in the direction the guard points .

You give him a smile. "Thank you very much."

You follow his directions and a short time later you find yourself in front of the prince's chambers. You take a deep breath and then knock firmly on the door. It takes a moment and you are invited in. As you attempt to open the door, your guard takes a few steps forward to follow you. "I want to talk to him alone."

"My lady it is inappropriate, you need a chaperone."

"Do you doubt your prince's honor?"

"Of course not!"

"So."

"But my Lady..."

You sigh. "I know I'm not making your job easy today, but I promise to do better. Just not today. I just want one private conversation with the prince. Please."

Now it's his turn to sigh. "I'll wait outside the door. Right infront the door."

"Of course. Thank you." You open the door and enter the prince's chambers. Aemond is sitting on one of the sofas, there is a cup of wine on the table next to him and there is an old book on his lap whose title you can't see. When he sees you he stands up surprised.

"My Lady." he says confused. You close the door behind you and curtsy slightly. You hope he doesn't insist that you curtsy every time you see him after your wedding, but that's not the topic of tonight. Tonight you want an answer.

“Is something troubeling you?” He sounds cold and not really interested, but you push aside the nagging feeling of insecurity. Maybe that was a bad idea after all? But you're here now. Now there is no turning back.

"Yes, something is bothering me." you answer. You are a lion of Casterly Rock. Hear Me Roar! these are your words. And you will show this dragon that you cannot be ignored. Aemond looks at you with a cold expression.

"How can I help you?" he asks annoyed. He's making it clear to you that he doesn't want you here. But you just ignore that. He ignores you, so you can ignore his wishes. You take a deep breath and straight yourself up. You make yourself taller than you are and scrape up all your self-confidence together.

"You do not like me." you say. Aemond's expression changes just for a second, then he wears his cold mask again. You hold his gaze.

"I do not know you." he then says. The bored tone makes you angry.

"And that's your fault." you throw at him. The prince rolls his eye.

"Did you come here to insulte me?"

You bite your lip. "No." you say quietly. "I want to know why you don't like me. I want to know what I did wrong."

Aemond's gaze goes over you. Then he turns to the side, reaches for his wine cup and drinks it. Then he takes the jug and refills his cup and fills a second one.

"Sit with me please." he says, pointing to the seat next to him. You take the steps to the couch and sit down. The pillows are soft, but you still sit straight and ignore the cup of wine in front of you. You suppress the urge to shift back and forth.

"So?" you press.

"You have done nothing wrong."

"Then why have you been ignoring me since I got here?"

"If you wouldn't interrupt me." he says in a strained voice.

You bite your lip again. "I'm sorry."

"Like I said, you didn't do anything wrong. I thought you'd prefer to have time for yourself."

"I had enough time for myself. I'm all alone here. And I would like to know my betrothed before I have to marry him. But you don't even give me the chance to get to know you. You disappear all day long. I don't know anything about you. The only information I get are the gossip from the servants." You feel tears welling up in your eyes, but you quickly blink them away. Aemond's jaw tenses with your words. But you're not quite finished yet. "I don't understand why. We used to write letters to each other and then you stopped replying. And since I've been here you have continued to ignore me. So give me a good reason!"

"I have give you my reasons." he says but doesn´t meet your eyes.

"No. That wasn't a good reason." you insist. That can not be it. Because he thought you needed time for yourself? Nonsense! There has to be another reason. Your thoughts are racing and before you can stop yourself you start talking again.

"Do you think I'm stupid? Not a pleasant conversation partner? Not worthy of your attention? What is it?"

"No of course not."

"Don't you think I'm pretty?"

"Oh please, you're beautiful." he says, sounding a little annoyed.

"So what's your problem?"

"There's no problem. It's just.." he interrupts himself and then takes a deep breath. "You must be very disappointed with this engagement." "With your behavior. Yes, I tried to explain this to you."

"No. Not with that. With the engagement to me. With a disabled prince."

You stare at him, stunned, for a few moments. "What?"

"Don't play dumb. You're beautiful, you probably had hundreds of requests for your hand in marriage."

"The two of us have been engaged since we were children. That's well known."

"Won't change the fact that you have a lot of admirers. Am I wrong?"

You furrow your eyebrows. Yes, of course, many men have given you compliments and little gifts and begged for your attention, but that's normal. You come from a rich, powerful family. You were never really interested in any of that. Why should you? You were already engaged. You had your dream prince. Until he stopped being a dream prince. Before you can answer Aemond talks again.

"I can imagine how embarrassing it is for you to have to marry a disabled prince."

"A disabled prince?"

"Aemond one eye. I know what people call me."

"And why do you think I care?"

He laughs joylessly. "Of course you care."

Anger rises within you again. "You judge me? Without knowing me? How dare you?"

You jump to your feet. Aemond winces. He probably didn't expect this reaction. You start pacing back and forth in front of him. "You think I'm unhappy with our engagement because you're missing an eye?You disappoint me."

"Everyone thinks that. You must be devastated. All your admirers and you are stuck with me."

"I´m not stuck with you. I was happy to be engaged to you. Until you turned out to be a complete idiot." you stop infront of him and glare at him.

"Remember who you talk to."

"I'm talking to the man I'm going to marry. Who obviously already made up his mind. Without knowing me. That's cruel."

Aemond is silent for a moment. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Then tell me. Tell me anything, no matter what. But we can't do it like this. We can't live like this. We can't ignore each other our whole lives. Or is that what you want?" you ask, realizing you sound desperate.

"No of course not." his voice is no longer annoyed, he sounds more tired. You get on your knees in front of him to be at the same eye level again. You hesitate for a moment but then place your hands on his knees. His eyes examine you carefully, but you don't avoid his gaze.

"So where did that sweet boy I met back then go?"

"That sweet boy you were talking about lost his eye and no one cared." his jaw tenses again.

"I wrote you letters. I asked you how you were doing. How you felt. You didn't answer."

"I didn't read it. I thought you were just writing it out of obligation."

"You could have ask me." you say.

"I guess I underestimated you."

"Yes, perhaps."

"I shouldn't have assumed something about you."

"No you shouldn´t." you agree with him.

Aemond takes your hand. "I shouldn't have ignored you. I should have gotten to know you."

"You can do better now."

"I will." he says. "Promise."

You smilie at him. The conversation went better than you could ever imagined.

"And I will start right away." he then says. You look at him confused. Aemond takes a deep breath and lets go of your hand. Slowly his hands go to the back of his head and undoes the buckle of his eye patch. The leather slides carefully from his eye. The blue sapphire sparkles at you. The scar is always only half covered by the eye patch, but now without it, the scar is even more prominent.

You carefully raise your hand, but before you touch him you stop. "May I?" you whisper. He nods. You touch his cheek tenderly and caress it. "You're beautiful." You say. You see the slight blush on his cheek. A smile dances around his lips.

"Thank you." he places his hand over yours and carefully removes it from his cheek. He kisses your knuckles.

"I just say the truth." Now it's a real smile at Aemonds face.

You straighten up and come back to your feet again. You take a deep breath to bring yourself back into the here and now.

"It's late. I should go back to my chambers."

"Yes. Would you like me to accompany you?"

"That won't be necessary. My guard is right outside the door." you nod towards the door with a smile. Aemond raises an eyebrow, but you don't explain further.

"What do you think about accompanying me to Vhagar tomorrow?"

"To your dragon?"

"Yes."

Nervousness and excitement rise within you. "I would like that very much." you answer and the smile dances around his lips again.

Aemond leaves the eye patch on the table as he walks you to the door. He opens it and your guard half stumbles into the room. He must have leaned against the door.

"My prince." he says and bows. You suppress a laugh. He really was right outside the door.

"I trust you to get my betrothed back to her chambers safely ."

"Of course my prince." the guard stutters.

"Sleep well my lady." Aemond now turns to you. He kisses your hand and this time the blush rises in your cheeks.

"Sleep well my Prince." You say.

You turn away and make your way back to your chambers. Your guard right behind you and you can even find the way without his help. You are hopeful about your marriage. Yes, a conversation doesn't solve all the problems, but it was a good start. It's not perfect yet but it's better. And maybe he and you can manage to have a peaceful marriage and maybe be happy with eachother.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #prince aemond #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fic #hotd

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mrs-weasley-reid · 3 months ago

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HUNDRED TWO POINT THREE

Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader

Synopsis: as they say, in sickness and in health, but Aaron Hotchner seems to take sickness too seriously. WARNING: a whole lot of nada (i hope). all fluff. overprotective!aaron (duh). not proofread !!!! Word Count: 912 A/N: THIS IS A REPOST of a req from my sweet, sweet lumi @egdropsoop when i was sick. i had to mourn accidentally deleting the original post. it felt so heart-wrenching. and i couldn't find the draft in my docs for almost a week, so it was another type of panic and heartbreak. this writer is such a dummy sometimes, but i hope rereading the fic in case it pops in your feed isn't so bad

This week’s case, by far, has been the most difficult you have yet to experience.

Besides the buzzing summer heat of Los Angeles and the loud commotion in each corner of the local precinct, not only did you have to bring back sticky sweat and ringing ears, but you also brought back a mind-numbing body temperature of 102.3 degrees.

With Emily’s driving and Spencer’s constant rambling, by the time you guys arrive at the airport, your body is creaking with chills and joint pain.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

You feel Hotch’s hands lay atop yours, prompting your brows to clash and your head to turn to your side where he towered over you. “What? I’m trying to make tea.” You say disorientedly, breathing quite ragged.

It’s his turn to knit his brows. “Sounds reasonable, but don’t you think your cup has enough hot water?” You follow where he’s looking at your blushing red hand, steaming with heat. “You’re going to burn your hand at that rate.” He adds, lifting his gaze back at you.

He reads you for a moment. Your pinkish cheeks, heavy breathing, and disoriented state told him enough to make a deduction. They tell tales that are similar to those of a small Jack Hotchner after a venture in the rain or dry sweat over a fun visit to the park.

“You have a fever,” He informs you sternly.

“No, I don’t.” Your nose crinkles, shaking his hands off yours and straightening up. The simple movement alone brings your head to spin, pushing you against the counter. You close your eyes, “M’kay, maybe I do.”

Everything seems fuzzy, but you feel Hotch’s gentle hand over the small of your back, and you’re suddenly being led to one of the two couches in the jet, momentarily seeing a pouting Spencer Reid, woken up from his slumber as he mumbles to another seat.

Hotch wraps his jacket around yours, squatting in front of you. "Honey, why don't you lay down? Get some shuteye." His voice is gentle in your ears. He squeezes your hand in his while the other brushes away loose strands off your burning face.

“You okay, mama?” Derek turns from his seat, “Want some cocktail with that fun swirly straw you and Penelope love?” He jokes lightly in hopes that humor will lessen the throbbing in your head.

“It’s not the time for jokes, Morgan. If you’d like to help, maybe stay quiet in your seat.”

The entire jet shuts up.

Emily and JJ’s low whispers halt as they shift their gaze from where Hotch blocks Derek’s view. Spencer tries his best to stifle his laugh, but Rossi only shakes his head.

“She has a fever, Aaron. Not cancer. Let the lady sleep in peace.” Rossi interjects in defense of the team’s eye candy.

Hotch ignores him, rolling his eyes. He maneuvers back to the kitchenette in search of some cloth and a bucket to fill with tepid water.

Derek settles back in his seat with a look of disbelief, “I thought I was dead for a second.” He mutters under his breath. “He’s gone full papa bear mode on her.”

They watch as Hotch pulls heaven and hell in your favor. He makes tea. Even finds a can of soup from somewhere in the cabinets, wondering why none of them has ever seen that before. He goes back and forth, placing a cloth over your forehead.

His goal is to get you out of feverish delirium by the time the jet lands back in Quantico. And Hotch is quite the mission-oriented guy.

"Aaron..." You mumble almost unheard if only everyone isn't eavesdropping.

"You need something, hon?" He gently blots the cloth over your face. His sleeves are rolled past his elbows, and a rivulet of sweat is over his temple from all the movement he's made in the past ten minutes.

"Stop fussing and let me sleep, hmm? Go drink some scotch with Dave or something." You shoo him with one hand and steal the cloth from him with the other.

Hotch shakes his head as if your eyes haven't been shut tight for a while now, prying the cloth off your hand. "Come on, now, sweetheart. I can't just leave you alone." He coos, successfully repossessing the damp fabric.

It takes a toll on your body when you sit up, yanking the small towel a second time from his grasp, more aggressive this time.

"Hey, be careful—"

You raise a hand to shut him up, "Aaron Hotchner. Take a break, or I swear you won't have a bed to sleep in when we get home." You huff, willing your facial muscles to look as intimidating as you possibly can at your state. "And Jack will not side on you. We both know I'm his favorite. So get." You point at Rossi's direction.

He sighs in defeat, leaving a kiss on the crown of your head. "Fine. But tell me when you need something—"

"Start walking, Aaron," You shake your head, giving him a stern look.

The unit chief trudges to the seat next to Rossi, where the older agents offer a glass. Before Hotch can even decline, you voice rings in the jet.

"You better take that glass."

He rolls his eyes, but does as you say.

Everyone fights their will not to burst into laughter, or they just might get pushed off the jet.

hotch masterlist | masterlist

#aaron hotchner fic #agent aaron hotchner #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner criminal minds #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #criminal minds #hotch blurb #rehotch #hotch #criminalminds #cm #ker writes a lot

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mitskicain · 4 months ago

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navi | m.list

. ⁺ . ✦ ‘sayang’ is a double-edged sword — kuroo x reader

synopsis: based on the headcanon of a half-Indonesian kuroo. in which he learns that the language is full of contradictions.

content warnings: ANGST, mentions of bullying, homesickness

word count: 3.5k

· · ─────── ·{ ✐ᝰ.ᐟ}· ─────── · ·

Sayang. A two syllable word that was the unofficial translation of love in the Indonesian language. Technically love was ‘cinta’, but you didn’t like how it felt in your mouth—bulky and awkward—too big for anything. You liked the way ‘sayang’ sounded better, the way it rolled off the tongue so easily—fleeting, almost carelessly. Sayang.

Aku sayang kamu. I love you.

Your mother called you sayang. You recalled running up to her after school, her arms outstretched and wide open, waiting to wrap around you. The sweet scent of her skin that was like honeysuckle and summer, the warmth of her smile—beaming at you from the driver’s seat as you babbled about your day. She would call you that term of endearment whenever she had the chance.

Sayang, come down for dinner. Sayang, it’s time to wake up. Sayang, have fun at school!

Indonesian was your mother tongue. The first language you had learned how to speak. In a way, your entire childhood was defined by it. There were things in your everyday vocabulary that didn’t make sense, or were different when translated. In that way, you always felt like there was something missing when you spoke English or Japanese. When you left Jakarta during the 1998 riots, your mother, alongside a handful of other families, managed to escape from the fiery wrath of the protestors, sought asylum from any other country that was willing to take you. Some of your friends moved to Singapore, others, Malaysia, or Taiwan—for you it was Japan, a country that once had colonized yours but was now your saving grace. With only two suitcases to your name and your mother’s limited Japanese learnt during her high-school years, the two of you tried to make home in the foreign country. You were starting all over again. Language. School. Friends. It would prove to be difficult.

Japanese kids were mean. Not beating-you-up kind of mean, but snickering-behind-your-back mean. Back home, they would say things to your face, pick fights and shouting matches with you, but here, they talked about you in hushed whispers and lingering gazes. It was in the sharpie doodles on your school shoes and the scattered laughter that echoed whenever you slipped up when you read aloud for the class. You were still bad at Japanese—the language a tangle of syllables in your mouth. Your mother told you that it was because your tongue was just used to speaking Indonesian. You thought it was because Japan was foreign to you, in the bad way. In the way that your body silently rebelled against it by fixing your jaw in ways so you couldn’t say things right—so that years later, even after you became fluent, the trace of your mother tongue still lingered.

That was the first thing that Kuroo Tetsuro pointed out. You talk funny, were his first words to you—finger pointed straight between your eyes. A rage bubbled in your chest at the mention of it. It was something that you were insecure about, something you felt the need to hide. You didn’t even know you were muttering to yourself when you played in the playground’s sandbox until he pointed it out to you, and you hated that, and you made sure to let him know how much you did—through a mash of fists and bruises and a black eye (his, not yours).

Your mother made you apologize—the Japanese way—kneeling, on the floor. You were red hot and flushed, humiliated for having done so. Not for beating up the kid but rather for having been caught, and having to apologize. Why should you? He started it. He was making fun of you. “You talk funny,” psh, he looked funny. His sharp cat-like eyes and almost permanent bed head—how could his parents let him out of the house looking like that? Someone might mistake him for a stray.

That apology was how you found out Kuroo was a little bit like you—half-Indonesian, from his mothers side. The tiny Indonesian population in Japan meant that whoever was from the motherland clung together like thieves at sea. Maybe it was because of familiarity, maybe because of homesickness. In a way, all they had left of their home country was each other, speaking the same language, knowing the same songs, the same streets—sometimes even the same people. For them, this was the closest thing to coming home. This was how you eventually became friends with Kuroo, after years and years of living down the street and your mother inviting him over and attending the same school and making the two of you befriend the other.

It was rough at first. You refused to speak Japanese around him, fearing the same insult would come and jab at you when you would. Despite his mother’s nationality, he was never able to understand or speak the language that you did—part of himself almost denying that part of him after his mother left. Maybe that was his way of getting revenge, refusing to acknowledge his mother’s culture, her homeland.

The two of you would pass the time playing congklak, the Indonesian version of the mancala. You practiced counting this way, dropping the shells in each divot one by one—starting again if there were any remaining. He babbled on about TV shows he watched, or mangas he read, trying to make a point about how Japanese he was, how un-Indonesian, and by extension, how unlike his mother. Sometimes you would watch Ikkyu-san together. Sometimes he would flip through the comics you had brought over—Mahabhrata and Gundala and Bobo. You remember the look on his face as he traced over the pages, his nose scrunched in confusion.

“It’s too confusing, all these words look foreign to me,” he would say, putting them back on the shelf.

“So what?” You shot back, “I had to do the same thing when I came here. Kanji still looks like scribbles to me.”

There was no mashing of fists or sound of crying this time, just a mutual understanding of the others’ struggle. You watched him swallow the lump in his throat and pick up the book again, finger tracing the sentences, sounding out the words—like a child learning how to read for the first time. You sighed, defeated, and sat down next to him, trying to teach him. He was a persistent child, often needing to get his way regardless of whatever circumstances but here he was—docile, obedient. Something between the two of you shifted.

Kuroo began to grow out of his shell in middle school; making new friends on the volleyball team and tagging along during their after-practice escapades, oftentimes raiding the local convenience store for all the goodies. Sometimes you would come with, slipping into the background of conversations and keeping to yourself. You still didn’t like talking in front of anyone—so you kept your lips pressed together and our gaze downcast, a faraway look in your eyes. Of course, this caught the attention of some of his teammates.

“Is she mute?” One of them had asked, hands shoved in his pockets, walking a few steps ahead of you. Despite you hanging back, you could still hear him, but then again, it wasn’t like he made any attempt to speak quietly either. Or maybe he thought that you were also deaf.

“Dude,” he sounds, offended for you, “she’s right here.”

“So? It’s not like she ever says anything. It’s like she’s deaf, or mute—or both.”

Kuroo frowns at this statement. At home, he sits across from you, pencil tapping against the pages of his ignored math homework. You look up at him with your eyebrow cocked, as if, beckoning for him to spit it out already.

“Would it kill you to make some friends?” He asks, words sharp and unforgiving. Your shoulders slump at the question, and you give him a deadpan look before returning your attention to your assignment, already miles ahead of him.

“I don’t need them,” you mumble, “too much of a hassle.”

“How do you survive without them? Like seriously, nobody to lean on?”

“That’s how I like it.”

He grumbles inaudibly under his breath at your response, a mixture of frustration and annoyance echoing through his voice. He chews on his bottom lip before speaking up again, this time, rather boldly.

“You’re not alone.” You look up at him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. He thumps his chest with his right hand almost solemnly, like making an oath. “You have me. I’m your friend. I’m here for you.”

Your eyes widen in shock, a blush creeping up to your cheeks. You press your lips into a thin line, not knowing what else to say. Instead, you nod your head in acknowledgement, and return your attention back to your homework. When you are done with the practice questions, you flip over your notebook so that he can copy your answers.

The first time he called you ‘sayang’ was in the spring of your freshman year. He said it after having heard your mother say that as she bid you goodbye for school. He had let it slip, almost by accident, as he repeated the word over and over in his mind as the two of you walked—sounding it out, feeling the weight of it in his mouth. He liked the way it rolled across his tongue, and something about it—the curve of the letters when spelled out, the softness of it seemed so you. When you had heard it, you stopped, the hair on the back of your neck raising as you looked back at him, almost incredulously. He stares back, puzzled at your reaction. This was the first time he had ever seen your reserved demeanor crack.

“What? What did I do?” He asked, genuine concern evident in his voice.

“What did you say?”

“What, ‘sayang’?” His hands move up to straighten his tie, suddenly nervous. “I’m sorry, was that a bad word?”

“No, it’s..” your voice trails off, cheeks reddening. You turn around and stomp forward, hands tight around the straps of your backpack. “Forget it. Don’t call me that.”

He stays at his place on the street, feet glued to the pavement, wondering what he had done wrong. The guilt creeps in, and in an attempt to absolve it, he hands you a steaming hot pork bun in between classes, even though the heat burns his skin and his fingertips are still red at the end of the school day. It’s something he’s willing to do for your forgiveness. Over the years he will find that he’s willing to do a lot for it, actually. Later, over dinner, he finds out through your mother that it's actually a term of endearment, something close to ‘my love’. The two of you exchanged awkward, embarrassed glances across the table.

The second time he called you ‘sayang’, it was by accident again—spoken absentmindedly as he thanked you for explaining the assignment. Thank you sayang, he said, before realizing and slapping his mouth with his hand. You looked at him with an equal amount of shock and horror. You excused yourself to the bathroom to compose yourself, and when you returned, the two of you acted like it had never happened. He wanted to apologize, but apologizing would mean having to explain himself, and that explanation would mean having to tell you that he had tried learning Indonesian and thought of calling you ‘sayang’ the same way they did in your mother’s sinetrons (Indonesian soap operas).

And you weren’t sure the exact moment that things had changed for the two of you. Before, it was a co-existence, the understanding that you existed in each other's worlds and just that. Now, it had warped into an odd and unfamiliar shape. He was running up to you in the hall, babbling on and on about every single thing—he was more Kuroo than he ever was before around you. And you couldn’t help but notice how much bolder and brighter he seemed. In the mornings on the walk to school, next to you, smiling through his stories of his strange dreams—you couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were actually hazel and not brown, and for a moment, before your consciousness kicked in, you thought he looked beautiful.

The third time he called you ‘sayang’, it was on purpose. No longer a freudian slip or accident, but deliberately—with intention.

The two of you were in the infirmary—you, pressing an ice pack to his swollen cheek, and him, wincing at the sharp sensation. A fight had broken out. It was his friend, that same friend, calling you mute again, but this time Kuroo wasn’t as forgiving. There was the mashing of fists and bruises and a black eye again. His, not yours. Just like when you were kids the first time you met on the playground.

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” you speak up, finding some strength in the words. A rage bubbled in your stomach. You couldn’t make up whether you were upset at him or for him. He reaches out to touch the skin of your wrist, the first time he had ever done anything of the sort, and tries his best to keep his swollen eye open. The red will turn ugly and purple within a matter of hours.

“I wanted to,” he says softly, almost like a whisper, voice hoarse from yelling. “They don’t get to do that. Not to you.”

Your expression is almost pained, torn between screaming at him for his showmanship or kissing him for it. You couldn’t decide.

“Still,” you sound, “you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he repeats, this time, even softer. His other hand plucks out the second button from his uniform, his chest peeking through. He removes the ice pack and slips the button in between where your hand and his cheek meet. It’s still tender and aching, but the skin of his neck, where your pinkie finger grazed over, was so warm and inviting—so soft it seemed like a shame not to touch. You run your thumb over his jaw, tracing over the shape of it, and he winces. Still, he grabs your wrist and presses your hand against his cheek even harder, turning his head to plant a kiss on the skin of your palm.

You didn’t know your hands could ever feel like that. It was as if there were a hundred million nerves that you didn’t know previously existed, and now, suddenly all firing. It was almost too much.

“Sayang,” he mumbles into your hand, lips tracing on your skin—you don’t pull away. You are mesmerized, struck. How you went so long without having reached out for him you wouldn’t know. Again he calls you sayang, whispering it with his eyes closed, almost like a prayer. You bite your lip.

“Yes?” You answer.

His eyes flutter open, a small look of shock painted that is immediately replaced with relief, and then—a grin splitting his face, lips stretched as far as they could with the swelling. His hands wound tightly around yours, and again, that feeling of electricity, soaring right through you.

“You answered,” he says, almost breathlessly.

“You called,” you reply.

It would take 2 weeks for the black eye to heal completely, but even less time for him to slowly integrate ‘sayang’ into his everyday vocabulary. The word that once seemed awkward and bulky now slid off smoothly from his mouth every chance he got. He liked it. Liked the way it felt rolling off his tongue, liked the way you looked every time he did, but most importantly—he liked how nobody else (apart from your mother) called you that. Like an exclusive nickname, but thousand-fold. He tried learning Indonesian again, as an easy way to impress you. Selamat pagi (good morning). Terima kasih (thank you). Cantik (beautiful). On your birthday, he had prepared and memorized a little speech in your mother tongue. You laughed when he said ‘aku cinta kamu’. You tell him nobody says ‘I love you’ like that.

“They only use ‘aku sayang kamu’”, you explain.

“Why not ‘cinta’?” He pouts, flustered at his mistake. “Cinta also means love, right?”

“Cinta and sayang are different,” you explain, cutting into the cake your mother had baked: pandan with coconut and brown sugar frosting. She searched for the ingredients for weeks.

“Cinta is a declaration. Sayang is a promise,” you place the slice of cake on his plate, pushing it towards him, “sayang is the promise of loving someone no matter what—whether that love is reciprocated, whether it is burdensome.”

He shoves his mouth full in an attempt to soothe his embarrassment. The cake is fragrant and light, a foreign medley of flavors on his tongue. He looks over in your direction, happily digging into the treat, and worries that no matter how much he tries to learn about your culture, there will always be a divide—some unabridged gap he will never be able to cross. When the two of you join a cultural exchange trip to Indonesia in the summer before your senior year, he witnesses firsthand how you spring back to life—like a wilting plant finally being watered.

The two of you ravage through the city, attending bustling night markets and festivals. He watches in shock as you devour heaps of sambal with your food. You bargain with a lady for a fair price on batik, a souvenir and reminder of Indonesia that you wanted him to have. You wear these in weddings, you tell him. His mind wanders to you wearing white, walking down the aisle. You run up and down beaches, drink out of coconuts, plumeria flower tucked behind your ear, and chat with the locals—relieved to finally be surrounded by people who looked and talked like you. He watches you throw your head back laughing, and feels his heart ache. You had been homesick all this time. Trapped in a foreign country and forced to abandon your culture for his, living in a society that merely tolerated her identity, never embracing it. His home was not yours, this he now understood.

So when you told him that you were going to move back for college he wasn’t surprised. The country had recovered from the bloodbath of ‘98 and was now brimming with potential for growth. Even Forbes had called it the tiger of Southeast Asia. Some of your friends were also returning. It was a land of undiscovered opportunity.

“I have to go back,” you explained to him. “In Indonesia, I can be somebody; here, I am always second-class.”

And it stung, because he knew you were right, and he knew that it was cruel to make you stay—like keeping a butterfly in a jar. When he sends you off, he can’t help but think of his mother. That was one of the things the two of you had in common: the both of you leaving him. However, this time he doesn’t cry or scream or beg the way he did. He lets you go, maybe even with a little bit of grace, and he does so because cinta and sayang meant different things and he meant the latter.

“Aku sayang kamu,” he tells you as he waves you off. I love you. I love you enough to let you go.

When the two of you meet again, it will be years later and you will be older. You will be dressed in white and he will be in his batik that you had gotten for him all those years ago. He will stand, awestruck, as you walk down the aisle—not towards him, but towards somebody else, and his heart will ache in the way that it did only for you.

Sayang, he will think, but not in the affectionate way. In the way that implies unbelievable loss.

Sayang. A two-syllable word that’s used to convey both love and loss in the Indonesian language. It was strange, the way something could mean the exact opposite of itself, but Indonesian was strange like that. A language that was filled with metaphors and contradictions. One that is hard to forget, and even harder to unlearn. Each word carried a weight, a duality that made almost every conversation a dance between clarity and ambiguity. It was as if the language itself knew that life was never just one thing; it was a series of paradoxes, constantly contradicting itself, where joy and sorrow often walked hand in hand.

Its counterpart definition implied grief. You used it when talking about missed opportunities, or something that goes wrong when you wish it hadn’t. It almost means: what a shame. It was just one of those things that can’t be translated just as is, because the definition was so much deeper. The same way its first definition meant to love someone unconditionally, the second meant to describe the heartache that lingers in the face of loss, a longing that never quite fades. A word that blended affection and regret all in one and could only be understood by someone who felt both at once.

He felt it then, watching you get married to somebody else.

Sayang sekali, he says.

I love you, and also, what a waste.

· · ─────── ·{ ✐ᝰ.ᐟ}· ─────── · ·

author’s note: my debut entry in the haikyuu fandom and its angst 😭😭 aNYWAYS WHERE ARE THE KUROO FANS MAKE SOME NOISE 🫵🫵🗣️🗣️‼️‼️ huge shoutout to @zumicho for having to hear me ramble on and on abt the fic and take forever to write it but it’s finally here !!!! and I’m so excited to share more w u guys aaaa I hope you guys like it 🥰🥰💥💥💥💥

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honeytama · 6 months ago

Text

Thank God for Summer.

Noah Sebastian X Plus Size!Fem!Reader

A/N: This is for everyone who wants some praise for their beautiful body.

Summary: Your friend and crush, Noah, invites you to his tour’s pool party while on their day off. You’ve got on a new bikini in his favorite color and he just can’t seem to keep his thoughts about your body away (or his hands off of you).

Content and Warnings: Fluff and smut 18+, Reader is plus size, friends to lovers?, partial Noah’s POV, pining, praise, exhibitionism?, fondling, fingering, he gets a little carried away

Word Count: 2.2k

The doorbell rings inside as you wait outside the Airbnb in your sunglasses, sandals, cover-up outfit, and your pool bag at your side.

Your friends’ band rented the place for their couple of days off in your hometown while on tour. Noah, your best friend and long-time crush, invited you to party with them on this hot summer day and you couldn’t help but feel constant butterflies.

“Noah, they’re here!” Folio yells from behind the door before swinging it open with a big smile.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you, how are you?” He exclaims. His shirt is already off, of course, and he reaches out for you to come in.

You smile wide and step forward into his hug at the house’s threshold.

“Folio, I’m so good, how are you?” You gush. He responds to you, but his voice dissipates as you get distracted by the lavish home you’ve entered. With an open floor plan, you could see everything. The guys and other bands' members from their tour are outside at the backyard pool. You can see them through the floor-length windows that line the wall of the living room.

“Am I the only girl showing up today, Folio?” You ask him, coming out of your trance.

“Hm, some of the other band’s girlfriends wanted to be here, but it was short notice so I don’t know if they’ll make it. Noah wanted you to be here and he knew you’d be in town. We haven’t seen you in forever,” he explains. “I hope that’s ok?”

Oh, you felt a little lightheaded thinking about existing in front of all those attractive men. Especially Noah. You had thought there might be other women to use as a buffer to help you feel more confident in hanging around these guys.

“Yeah, totally fine,” you smile to Folio.

“Hey, Y/N,” your favorite familiar voice sings to you from the kitchen. Folio leaves you to step out to the backyard and you walk to the kitchen to find Noah.

He’s there, with his shirt off, shit, holding a giant knife while cutting a watermelon and other various fruits behind the island. His bangs have fallen over his eyes, but he uses his free hand to tuck them away behind his ears as you walk up to the island in front of him.

“How are you? Are you ready to swim?” He grins. “I would give you a hug, but my hands are occupied at the moment.” He continues to cut the watermelon and you watch as the muscles in his arms flex with every downward slice he makes. His hands are slick with juice.

God, how do I survive today?, you think.

“I’m excited,” you half lie. “I even got a new swimsuit for the start of the summer.”

“Oh, yeah,” he squints at your sheer, cream-colored top. “It’s red. I like that.”

Noah, you groan silently.

“I just have my old pair of black trunks. You’ve seen them before, yeah?”

Mhm.

“Yeah, but it’s been a while,” you say. Averting your eyes to outside, you watch as Jolly flips into the pool as the other guys watch.

“You should go out there, get comfortable and then I’ll meet you once I’ve finished cutting these,” he smiles.

“Sure, but you have to introduce me to the other bands,” you point at him teasingly.

“Of course,” he replies and nods his head towards the patio door.

—

NOAH’S POV

I watch her leave out the glass door and out onto the patio.

A couple of the guys smile and wave at her and she raises her hand to wave back. Y/N sets her things down on the picnic table outside, and I watch as she rummages through her bag.

She sets a bottle of sunscreen on the table and looks to the left. And then to the right. Almost as if to check if someone is watching her.

I pick up my knife again to try to get at the two pineapples that have been taunting me since I was put on cutting duty.

But of course, I want to keep watching her. I’m so glad she came today.

Oh, she interrupts his thoughts. I put the knife down because I know I’ll cut myself if I’m this distracted.

Outside, Y/N takes off her sheer top that covered up her bikini. She didn’t mean for it to look so sensual, but it did. It’s like it happened in slow motion. Her back is fully exposed with just a bowtie at the back of her bikini holding it in place. She looks so soft.

Y/N uses her sunscreen generously. I watch her hands follow the curves of her sides and her shoulders.

I thought so badly to ask to have her put sunscreen on my back the way she did herself. But, Nicholas already took care of that earlier. Shit.

Y/N spins away from the pool to face the window, towards me. She watches her own hand placement in the reflection to make sure she’s gotten every spot of her neck, her chest, her stomach.

Fuck.

I watch her hands dip under the fabric of her bikini top. I imagine being able to put my hands underneath that fabric, too.

“Oh, fuck,” I say out loud this time. My cock strains in my swim trucks, so I reach my hand inside to slide it in the waistband to hide it.

She turns away again and her hands come to her hips where her shorts sit. She hooks the waistband with her thumbs and tugs them down. She shakes her hips back and forth for her shorts to come down the contour of her ass. They eventually pool at her ankles on the concrete below.

Her ass, her hips. She’s got these dips in her sides that I want to put my hands on and squeeze. Her ass and thighs look so plush; they have these lines that lead my eyes up and down her legs.

“Noah!” Her voice snaps me out of it. She waves me outside and points to the middle of her back. Y/N mouths the words, I need your help.

And with that, I leave the knife and pineapples to be done by somebody else.

—

READER

It’s evening time and the sun is on its way to being fully set over the horizon.

You sat on the edge of the hot tub with your feet in the water. It was nice to relax after a long day of swimming and meeting new people.

The hot tub is on the furthest end of the large backyard, but you can see through the house’s large windows into the living room where a few of the guys were playing video games on the TV. The rest of the guys have already headed upstairs to wind down for the night.

You see Noah walk out the glass door and watch him walk over to you.

“Did you enjoy today, Y/N?” He smiles as he joins you on the edge of the hot tub; he’s still in his infamous black trunks.

“I did. Thank you for inviting me,” you smile back and notice how close he is to you now.

“Of course. Yeah,” he trails off.

“Is something wrong?” You ask.

“I just want to tell you something, but I don’t want to freak you out,” he admits.

“Tell me,” you push.

He clears his throat and meets your eyes directly. “I’ve always liked you. Like a lot. But, today, I feel like I’ve crossed the line,” he speaks slowly.

Your cheeks flush and your chest gets hot. He likes you?

“I watched you undress earlier,” he continues. “I have not stopped thinking about how sexy you've looked in your bikini all day.” He reaches a hand to rest on the inside of your thigh, so close to your core. “Please let me touch you?”

“Yes, you can touch me,” you softly permit him.

He eagerly takes your hand and leads you off the edge into the hot tub’s water. Bubbles went up to both of your hips as you sat there looking at each other.

Noah leans to place his hands on both of your cheeks and presses the most plush, passionate kiss to your lips. He continues to kiss you while moving a hand to one of your breasts and massaging it cautiously.

You moan into his mouth, which drives him to persist and grip the mass of your breast in his long fingers.

Noah pulls away from the kiss to ogle your chest. You bite your lip as he meticulously rubs his thumb over your clothed nipple to harden it. He does the same to your other breast before sliding both sides of your bikini top to the side to release your tits.

You gasp.

You watch him duck his head down to your left tit and attach his lips to your nipple and suck. His empty hand is brought to your right tit and his forefinger and thumb roll your nipples tortuously.

The walls of the hot tub reverberate your moaning, and you hope you're far enough from the house for them not to hear you.

His mouth pulls away from your breast. “God, your body,” he gushes. “You’re so sweet to let me do this.”

Your face feels so hot and everything feels so good. Between your legs, you can feel a wetness build that’s not just from the water.

“Will you let me feel the rest of you?” He pleads.

You nod and turn around toward the wall of the tub. He wraps his arms and hands around your waist. His hands travel up and down your stomach and caress down the front of your thighs.

“So fucking thick and amazing. Your body is so beautiful, Y/N,” Noah moans in your ear.

You feel a bit more confident now that his hands are all over you. You stand up and brace your hands on the edge of the hot tub and Noah follows suit.

His chest is pressed up against your back and his groin is pressed against your ass. He grinds his hard cock between your ass cheeks and keeps his hands attached to your hips to keep you still.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. I like you so much,” between each word he kisses you from your shoulder to your neck.

“I need you so bad,” you moan shamelessly.

“Be good for me and spread your legs, then,” he commands.

You bend down low so that your elbows support you on the edge of the hot tub. You rest your knees with your thighs spread under the water on the bench.

Noah slides your bikini bottoms to the side and massages your slit with the pads of his fingers.

He groans as he presses one tattooed finger into you to his knuckle with ease. He hears you moan his name as he continues to press in and out a few times before adding a second finger. He uses his other hand to press and rub your clit in circles precisely.

He kisses the small of your back while continuing his ministrations. You hear him speak soft praises into your skin with each pump of his fingers into your pussy.

“I’m so proud of you for taking my fingers so well,” he says into your ear.

With that, you could feel a fire starting to burn inside. His fingers moved quicker as you became more slick. You urged him to press harder into your clit to push you over the edge.

“Fuck, make me cum,” you moaned.

“Cum for me, let it go,” he urged.

You clenched on his fingers and your legs shook beneath you as you let go of your orgasm on his fingers.

“Such a good girl,” he praises.

He moves his empty hand to wrap around your waist and help bring you down from the edge into the water. You rest your head against his chest trying to regain your breath and a steady heart rate.

Once you're ready, he spins you around to face him and places a soft kiss on your lips. “You’re so breathtaking,” he whispers.

“Noah,” you exhale out nervously.

“Hm?” He cocks his head.

“At first, when you told me you liked me,” you start to admit. “I felt kind of insecure because I didn't know whether to believe you or not. I thought ‘You just like me because I’m the only girl you’ve seen in weeks since starting tour’ or ‘I’m just a girl showing some skin’.”

“I understand. You’ve told me before that some guys will make you feel like you are their last choice. But, I swear to you. You’re meant to be mine,” he assures.

“I trust you,” you kiss his jawline softly.

“Good,” he smiles brightly, even in the dark. “Now, do you want to spend the night?”

#women are so powerful #noah sebastian #bad omens x reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x you #noah sebastian smut

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unconventional-lawnchair · 20 days ago

Text

Spoiled Brat {pt.2}

Remus Lupin x Gaunt!Reader

Summary: Remus and the reader reunite, but it doesn't go as well as either had hoped. Remus finds himself dealing with an evolution in his furry problem. (There will be a part 3- I'm sorry)

WC: 4895

Warnings: Not proof read. Sexual themes and references, this one is mostly angst and yearning, use of {Y/N}, fem reader, self doubt- let me know if I missed anything!}

Part one

You had no idea where you were going. Not that you would know if you had thought about it, you didn't have a clue about this damn school. You turned every corner and kept pushing through the sharp pain in your calves.

Your mind was racing. What the hell!? Why was he here!?

You turned another corner and ended up in just an empty corridor again. Eventually, you gave in and shoved your way into an empty classroom as you heard his footsteps grow closer. Fuck fuck fuck.

You began to pace. This should have never come home with you. What was he? A muggleborn? You had forgotten that Hogwarts accepts them. Was he a halfblood? No way in hell he was a pureblood, no chances you found someone that similar to you.

During the training over the summer, Mrs. Black made a heavy point of schooling you in infatuation. Well, at least that's what she called it. Longing for someone who you couldn't have. She taught you how to ignore the feelings, how to shove aside such thoughts and remind yourself you had a greater purpose.

You almost felt sorry for her, if she wasn't so vindictive and cruel, she would almost be a sob story.

Though, that was the only thing that helped. She seemed almost.. sympathetic with how taken you were with those lessons. Even a monster can use her heart once in a while. You had used her practice religiously, a rubber band around your wrist, flicked it throughout the day, and if you thought of him, or let your mind wander from your duties, flick it particularly hard.

She seemed to trial off when she noticed just how much you did it. By the dent around her forearm, she knew what she was talking about. What a cruel fix, seemed appropriate for her.

So here you were, pacing, your wrist turned upward and snapping the rubber band repeatedly, not thinking about just how much noise you were making. You were too wound up. You felt like a caged animal, just praying to Merlin that he walked past the classroom and somehow, for the next year, you'd be able to avoid him.

You could never be so lucky.

The door opened with a start and you hissed out at a particularly hard snap of the rubber across your already raw skin. Your eyes locked with a familiar face, you both were frozen. No one dared to move. The sound of his friends running down the hall and gaining on them seemed to catch Remus’s attention. He closed the door quickly behind him and you both held your breath. Listening as his friends all shuffled past the doorway.

Once they got further away, their shouts of Moony’s name fading out, he moved first.

You fumbled for your wand the second they were gone, looking down to your robe pocket and cursing as the colors blended together in your panic, the dark classroom was only illuminated by the moonlight from behind you, you didn't stand a chance. You missed your old uniform. You heard his footsteps, but by the time you looked up his long strides had already covered half the space between you.

You grasped your wand and snatched it from your ruffled uniform, before he grabbed your wrist and took your cheeks with one hand. You pointed your wand to this throat, but his grip on your wrist made you hold it at an odd angle. His thumb dented your cheek and his other turned your wrist. Something that could be seen as aggressive, domineering, but Merlin you knew that touch fondly.

His eyes locked on your panicked ones, he stared into them with so much desperation, your heart was blaring against your chest in a painful way. He moved closer, until his exhales became your inhales. You took a sharp breath in and held it, you could almost taste that familiar tang, chocolate and coffee, just like every night.

Your free hand applied pressure to his shoulder, but you hardly tried. You caved so easily for him.

It wasn't long until his lips were on yours. Your body relaxed on instinct, pressing against his as your wand dropped to the floor. “Mmm…”

He smiled into the kiss and pushed you back until you hit some poor professor's desk. Hand moving from your cheeks to your lower back, taking control as if laying claim to what he was cheated out of over the summer.

Sirius’s words, for once in his life, made sense. You were distracted with Walburga, of course you wouldn't have been able to come over the summer. You didn't hate him. He knew you didn't. It did make him wonder. What was a Gaunt doing hanging around muggle London? It drove him mad, he knew you so intimately, but clearly didn't have a clue who you really were. He wanted to know more than anything, trying to communicate it wordlessly and taking it out on your bruising lips. You gasped when he bit you, and the sharp pain snapped you out of it.

Looking away quickly he took that as a sign you wanted his kisses elsewhere. He found your neck easily, running his teeth along your jugular, bringing that familiar haze to the forefront of your mind. Only for you to snap out of it again when he took a punishing nip at the sensitive flesh. As if to show you that you've done wrong. Like some kind of dog.

You quickly shoved him back, and got a good look at him. He was flustered, hair a mess from what you realized had been your hand tangling into his lochs. You didn't even remember doing that.

“Get off.” You hissed at him and he seemed taken aback by the pure anger in your voice.

He did as he was told, letting go of you and taking a few steps back. He stared at you and you quickly fixed your clothes, hand going up to your neck and cursing at the tender wet mark. That would bruise, you knew that very well.

“Don't ever touch me again, do you understand me?” You snapped at him. The look he gave you made your heart break. He looked so.. defeated, like you had just taken the world away from him. What? Did he assume things would be like it was? That you would just go back to summer? To be that free… You huffed and leaned off the desk, his eyes scanned over you as if he was trying to decipher what was happening. “You need to keep your hands to yourself, Remus. I need you to tell me you understand that.”

He frowned a bit and slowly nodded. “Yeah. Understood.” He mumbled and you leaned down to get your wand.

“I don't need anyone knowing I associate with anyone lesser than.” You were being harsh, you knew that, but you had to. Less he got ideas this was something he could keep alive.

Much to your dismay, he scoffed. “You don't believe that. You're going to have me believe you would go around with a muggle all summer, but a half blood is too much for you?”

Halfblood.. of bloody course he had to be a half blood. You rolled your eyes hard. “I thought you were a muggle I would never have to see again.”

Another lie. And by the look of it, he knew this one too.

“Sure, sure you did.” He huffed at you and crossed his arms.

You had only seen Remus angry twice, once when you were at the beach with your friends and a random boy came over to try and talk you up, while he was standing right next to you. Remus did not like that. He snaked his arm around your waist and locked his eyes on the poor chap before he left.

You felt cocky, having made the usually well mannered, civil boy so angry. You had looked up at him through your lashes, knowing every move that made the boy crazy, and ignored the flirt outright. Like it was a display of your commitment to your situationship.

The second time was when you were at home and one of your neighbors had been making a racket while you two tried to sleep. He found an easy solution to that problem, and even if he took it out on you in a very exhilarating way, he never had his anger directed at you.

Tonight, it seemed like he had a million different thoughts in his head and all of them pointed at you as the cause. You didn’t blame him.

“I'm serious, Remus. Don't make what happened between us anything more than what it was.” You spat harshly and slipped your wand in your pocket, moving to pass him but he spoke up and stood in front of you. It was slow and calm, like he was herding you.

“What was it then? Enlighten me. You are a clever girl, and you never hesitate to tell me what you want.” Remus’s tone was terrifying at first, you had never heard so much strain and anger in someone's voice before. “So what was it? A three month long game? You introduce me to your friends for a little hit of something dangerous? You take me home and beg me to stay the summer for a quick fuck?” Remus had his hands out and threw them around to emphasize his point. You could see how he was clenching his hands, the veins in his arms harsh and visible. “You tell me you love me for a quick. Fuck?”

You snapped your thoughts back to reality, memories rushing back with every ounce of blood in your body, flushing your skin a tint of embarrassing red.

Your eyes widened, lips parting. “I-I never said that.”

“You did. I know because I was bloody begging you to. I had been imagining it for weeks, and it finally happened. And you acted like it was nothing.” He threw his hands down, putting them to his sides as he looked down at you.

“I thought I imagined it. But that look in your eye,” He gestured to you in aspiration, a clear disjointed hopelessness flickering between his eyes and relayed in his tone. “You can't fake that. I fucking hope you can't.”

He could not explain how much it rattled him. Your arms around his neck while he was rutting against you, your soft sounds egging him on. His hands holding you like you were glass, running up and down your legs to map out your figure for nights without it. Just begging himself. Begging himself to just say it. Just to hear your featherlight words piercing him a knife. The worst part? It was true. He knew it to be true.

You scoffed and turned your back to him, trying to hide your glossy eyes. This felt worse than how you expected. “... I wish I could say, I hate to disappoint you.”

Remus gave a laugh at your display. “What? You don't even know the worst about me, and you're this fucked up about it? That's it? That's all I get?” He stared down at you and you ran your fingers through your hair.

“That summer meant the world to me, you can't sit here and tell me you didn't feel a damn thing about it.” He spat harshly.

You pulled at the strands of your hair and laughed. It truly was like arguing with a partner, your mind kept going back to your concerns for him. You know, however, this time, his self deprecation was your fault. You were doing this to him, and it hurt like hell. “Yes!” You shouted and turned to face him, hands held out to exaggerate. “It meant nothing, Remus. Not a damn thing! I had done it before. Plenty of times.”

Remus rolled his eyes and you walked past him, shoving his shoulder as he tried, in vain, to stop you from running again. He turned to watch you open the door, as you looked back at him. His eyes widened and he looked right past you, but you didn't think about it.

“Stay far away from me, Remus. I mean it. I don't plan to ruin my name and my family legacy over a half breed.” Your words were aimed to kill. Glad his eyes weren't focused on you, you'd surely break. If he hated you, he wouldn't be so obsessed with the idea that you two could be anything more than what you truly were. He didn't need to know you were destined for a loveless life of pamper and spoils. He didn't need to know you would be married off once summer ended. He needed to forget that you fell in love with him that summer. In fact, he needed to think it wasn't true. It would just make this worse. “You need to realize that summer was a mistake. You're right, I don't know the worst of you. I don't care to. It's over. Be a big boy and let it go.”

Remus flinched and looked away, taking a small breath and you relaxed at his reaction. Seeing him finally give in broke your heart, but you were doing far worse to him, you were sure of it. You closed your eyes and turned to look away with a long pause.

“Listen-”

“Man, I hate being right sometimes.”

Your head snapped around and you locked eyes with Sirius Black. Now, you knew him, knew him as Walaburga warned you to stay far away from her disgraced son. You took a sharp breath as you looked across the alarmed and unsettled faces of who you recognize as students who were sitting around Remus in the hall. Lovely, so they surely know.

You collected yourself and straightened your back, waving your hand in a dismissive way. A red headed girl who was staring at you with the most confused look you'd ever seen, stepped aside. You quickly brushed past her and turned sharply to make it down the hall. Not wanting to hear the group talk about you. More so, not wanting to hear how bad you had hurt your moony.

~~~

The walk back to the dorms was hell.

He never knew Sirius could be so quiet. The only thing that could be heard was their soft footsteps making it towards the staircase.

What was worse than the silence, was the whispers. The second the five entered the common room, everyone seemed to be alive with chatter about what had gone down merely an hour ago.

“Remus! What was that?” Marlene shouted from her seat on the couch, turning to face him with a bright smile. Mary closed her book on her lap as Marlene began to turn with her knees in the cushions.

“Come on, Remus! You don't just call the new mystery girl by first name and run away!” She called after him as he walked his way up to Sirius and Peter’s dorms. Mary reached up and yanked Marlene down by her ear. The blonde yelped and fell easily into Mary’s lap. Looking up at her with a cheeky grin, much like James, puddy to her girlfriend. “Hey! I mean- Hey~”

Mary rolled her eyes and glanced back to see Lily send her an appreciative look before she followed the boys into what was once their shared dorm room.

She closed the door behind her and looked up to see Remus sitting in his old bed and staring at the wall. She sighed and put her hands on her hips.

James bit his cheek and rolled his jaw a bit. “Hey, Remus, I know it's not what you want to hear-”

“Then don't say it.” Remus groaned and covered his face. His lips still tingled from the kiss. It shouldn't have been this hard. He knew you were out of his league, the moment you mentioned your causal springs in Paris and winters in Australia. Your small comments while you spoiled him through the summer, with gifts and sweets, he knew at least three of his outfits in his luggage were from you. He didn't know if he wanted to frame or burn them.

Lily gave him her soft eyes, the ones that usually made Remus feel at his safest. Now, all he could think about was what it meant to be held by you, just hours after his transformation. True safety was your arms.

“Lily-”

“I know.” Lily whispered and moved to sit beside him on the bed. He looked at her as she placed her hand on his wrist and lowered it. She interlocked their fingers and she traced shapes along the back of his palm. It burned, almost like she was branding his very flesh. Another reminder he would never feel you trace your name in his back again. Like how you had done, on the beach, leaving your initials along his spine when the tan took over.

“How's Moony?” Lily whispered and Remus gave a deep sigh.

“He won't shut up. He's clawing at my throat.” He mumbled and Lily slowly rested her head against his shoulder, hand running up his arm and rubbing it.

“Do you think.. maybe he'll grow to get over it?” She whispered, slowly pressing her nose to his arm. “Like before?” She whispered lower and Remus grimaced.

“It's nothing compared to knowing she's.. she's so close. And I just can't-” He lifted his hands and she let hers untangle from his. “I can't..” He clenched his fists and slowly rubbed his forehead. “I need her.”

“Remus, you don't need her,” Lily tried to interject before she flinched at the look in his eyes. He looked dangerous, like she had denied him something vital. Then she realized, right. Three days, coming on the next full moon.

Moony was on edge. Remus wasn't usually this in tune with him, he did his best to ignore him day to day. But you had been his weakness from day one.

Normally, for Remus, he wouldn't dare say anything to a pretty girl in a record store. One who carried herself with so much confidence and determination. He should have taken note, your expensive shoes for a casual walk, your outfit wreaked of old money and your attitude alone showed you were used to being treated like a princess.

But Merlin, if you didn't have him and Moony on the same page for once. You were just his type, and yet the complete opposite at the same time. He was whipped before he knew your name.

By the time you said his, he was done for.

So he did everything in his power to avoid running into you again. A muggle and a half blood wizard tainted with wolf blood, what a romantic pair. He would do far more damage to who he thought you were then to any witch he'd ever meet. He would never want to force himself on someone so perfect. Then you showed up that night on his walk home and ruined everything. Ruined him.

Yet he still wanted more.

Remus snapped from his thoughts. He noticed Lily’s hesitation before slowly sighing. He shouldn't be taking it out on his friends, he knew that.

Peter snuck his way over to Remus. He wasn't one for many words, but he handed him a chocolate bar. Remus couldn't help but smile, the same thing Peter always did to comfort him. “Thank you.” He whispered.

Lily looked back to James and Sirius, giving a long sigh through her nose.

They both seemed locked in a silent conversation with their eyes. Lily gave a huff through her nose and slapped her hand down onto her lap as she glared at the two.

“Merlin's beard! Your friend is here distressed, say something!” Lily snapped at them and Remus put his hand on her shoulder.

“Lily, it's okay.” He mumbled before Sirius spoke up.

“I would! But James said I'll only make it worse!”

“Because you have a habit of it!” James challenged and Lily scoffed.

“Sirius, say what you must.” She groaned and Sirius bit his cheek before he sighed.

“Well.. she's a pureblood. You described her completely different then how she is now, and she got special training from mother dearest.” Sirius mused as he counted each point on his fingers. “Three strikes and she's been brainwashed.”

Lily furrowed her eyebrows before she looked at Remus who shook his head. James began to gesture wildly at Sirius. “Told you so!”

“She.. she's too strong willed to be broken so easily.” He mumbled and paused. He remembered your words carefully. Every memory of you was tainted and made Moony howl out in desperation for his pack back. His love back. You seemed so real.

You would be so prim and proper outside, Merlin, you used proper dining etiquette at the rundown muggle diners he could hardly afford to take you, like it was second nature. But behind closed doors? You were more of a gremlin then you were a girl at times. Huddled up on the couch in his oversized clothes with your hair a mess and eating cereal from the box. Eyes still messy from sleep and drool still dried on your chin.

He wanted to believe that was the real you. That was the one he fell in love with. If that was you, and it had to be, then maybe not brainwashed but.. the pressure was getting to you. He knew Sirius struggled with it at times, being an heir to an entire dynasty was daunting. That had to be it.

“... I can wait.” He resolved, earning a curious look from everyone in the room.

“I can wait for her to realize I'm worth it.” He whispered, and earned a shocked look from Lily, James seemed ecstatic, Sirius looked bewildered. Even Peter’s jaw dropped.

Sirius slowly smirked. Hell yeah moons, you are worth it.

Lily engulfed him in a hug, smiling bright. Peter clapped a hand on his shoulder, but no one looked prouder than James.

Tomorrow was a new day.

~~~

The second you got back to the dorms you were overwhelmed by the eyes on you. You were aware the bruise was already forming on your neck, so you had wrapped yourself up in your green scarf. Chin high, practiced and poised, you had to remember.

This wasn't Dumstrang. You had actual power here.

You stepped past the couch, glancing over to a boy. He had straight black hair and bright eyes, a lazy smirk on his face. You knew him, you knew every pureblood your father seemed to think it was worth knowing.

“Mulciber.” You quipped and took a moment to pause. He looked you over before he leaned forward, elbows to his thighs. “Well, if it isn't the Slytherin princess.”

His tone made your nose scrunch up, waving your hand dismissively. “Do not address me so informally.” You snapped back and it seemed to only egg on his interest. The voices around you quieting down, as if your conversation was the most important thing in the entire common room.

This would be interesting… By the looks on everyone's faces, the two of them must have looked like dragons raring their fangs at each other.

“Sorry, sorry doll, just saw that Half breed calling you by first name, I was wondering what kind of privileges us purebloods had.” He chuckled and stood up, earning a laugh from the boy beside him, Avery. You crossed your arms and turned to face him with a harsh glare. Even Avery had the good sense to fake a cough in the chillingly silent common room.

“Watch your tongue, Mulciber. I think you forget who you're speaking to.” You snapped and he put his hands up and playfully flinched back, like you were a caged cat hissing more than a Gaunt. “I suggest you learn to respect your superiors.”

“Superiors?” He laughed, walking closer to lean down. He was as tall as a bloody tree, not as tall as Remus, but enough to remind you that your wand was very hard to salvage in an emergency.

“Are you my superior, love? Who's yours?” He smirked and reached for your scarf. Your hand found your pocket, securing your grip on your wand handle. “Let me guess.. that little half breed had some-”

His wrist was grabbed harshly before he could remove the cloth covering up any evidence of Remus’s wandering lips. Your eyes followed the pale arm and your eyebrows raised at the sight of the youngest Black son, Regulus.

You suddenly remembered that old hags warning, that her youngest son and new heir would be at the school, in your house, as if there was not a shred of doubt you would be in Slytherin. That she would inform him to look after you, ensuring your father there was no funny business happening. Just great…

He looked a lot like Sirius, just angry and a bit more feminine. You wonder how two boys clearly so similar could be so different. It was evident, even if you couldn't see the peaking snake tattoo on his wrist from where you stood.

“Back off, Mulciber.” He warned in a cutting tone. You looked back at the offender as he scoffed and snatched his hand away. “Just looking, Reggie.” He sneared with a smirk. You huffed and turned to him with an apprehensive look. Sizing up the boy two years younger than you, he couldn't be older than 16, he still had a bit of a baby face, and a hollow face. Terrifying how much he looked like his mother.

He just gave you a nod and gestured to his side. “I'll take you to your room, Gaunt.”

You cautiously accepted his help, hands behind your back as you walked towards the steps he gestured to. Resolving within yourself to return back to your younger mindset.

Merlin this would be a long year.

~~~

The next day, waking up was a chore in itself.

Remus toughed through it, making his way to the great hall with some prodding from Lily. He couldn't say no, she had traveled all the way from the head dorms to the prefects to retrieve him.

When he sat down, the table felt lively again, but he could still feel all the eyes on him. He caught you at the Slytherin table, you had done your makeup and you were dressed up in subtle jewelry he remembered from the summer before. You took extra care of your appearance, and you seemed to effortlessly have every Slytherin wrapped around your finger.

You seemed so.. fake. So doll-like. You had a harsh and exact scowl, you looked dangerous but alluring, your eyes fluttered despite your clear stoic expression. When attention was given to you, you held it so effortlessly and that made his stomach turn. You used to look so much happier. When you were with him.

Sirius made some comment about your company, it was only then he noticed you were sitting with Regulus Black.

Remus didn't like to admit he could be a jealous person. Anytime you had teased him about his protectiveness, his unspoken claim over what was ‘his’ he would deny it.

Or better, blame it on Moony.

This time, it wouldn't be an entire lie. He felt his worse half begin to tear at the back of his head, shooting a painful jolt down his spine. His grip on his spoon tightened, as he watched you look at the younger boy with a practiced pout. Your eyelashes fluttered again as you played the part well, just a pretty arm piece with a valuable name.

Regulus seemed indifferent to your behavior, but still entertained your presence. More then could be said for most. Acting like a proper pureblood gentleman, and as he leaned down to whisper something in your ear, he heard James let out a shocked squeak.

Snapping back to, Remus looked over to James and narrowed his eyes, practically fuming. “What?”

“Mate.” Sirius prodded and met his eyes. The black haired boys were full of a strange kind of worry.

“What?” Remus pressed.

“Look at your arm mate.” Sirius stressed and gestured to his hand. The one clenching the metal in his palm, patches of discolored grey and long hairs spread across his hand and arm. His nails growing claw like, just a few of them, before they greyed out. His body grew stiff and dread filled him. What the actual fuck? What was happening?

Then the pain came, the very familiar bone breaking stretch of his flesh. He dropped the spoon in shock and gave a sharp hiss.

As shock overtook his anger, his hand began to return to normal. He sighed and rubbed his wrist and looked back up at you and Regulus, watching you get up and Regulus grabbed your bag for you, walking you out of the Grand Hall.

Remus felt a growl leave his throat and he quickly reached up to grab his throat, and his eyes widened. They locked with Lily’s own wide eyes from across from him. “Remus…” She whispered, and he avoided her eyes, looking down at his food.

Great, He thought, another freakish thing she can hate about me.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sirius black #james potter #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fic #remus lupin #remus lupin x y/n #remus x you #remus x y/n #jily

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welcometothemaraudersspam · 2 months ago

Text

a walk in october ~ n.k x reader part 1

“apocalypse ~ cigarettes after sex”

volume: ■■■■■□□□

warnings: cursing? just nanami being cute :3

word count: 2.3k

part 2 here!

｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡

Your converse cladded feet kicked the tiny pebbles adorning the sidewalk, a soft sigh leaving your lips. Lifting your gaze up from the ground taking in the breathtaking scenery. The leaves had reached their full autumn bloom. Shades of orange and brown coating every inch of the park. There were plenty of people enjoying the cool weather, their chatter heard in passing as you made your way further into the park.

The only other sound you took notice of were the rustling of the leaves, your eyes gazing up at the sky.

You could swear up and down that fall skies looked different. There was a certain hue to them that you couldn’t find in summer skies.

Summer skies were bright.

Baby blue.

Fluffy white clouds coating the sky. Everything was the perfect shade of green. The scenery just looked clean.

But fall skies-

That’s where it truly is.

Fall skies… they were brown. They were comforting. Everything about fall made you feel so warm inside. Maybe it was the ever changing shades in the leaves. The earthy tones coating the ground.

It was breathtaking..

And you look forward to it every year.

Your train of thought came to an abrupt stop as you had arrived at your usual spot. Setting your bag onto the wooden park bench, a soft thud followed shortly after. Taking a seat on the worn wood tugging your lunch out of the brown bag, humming a soft tune. Another gust of wind rustled the leaves above you, a few stray ones dancing their way down to the ground.

This place you had considered your spot wasn’t entirely hidden. Anybody could take it. But, no one ever did.

It was a lone wooden table barely holding it together with benches. The wood was beyond worn. Outlines of where people had loved it before. It was further into the park, near the outskirts of it, under a giant tree.

The tree looked over hundreds of years old. It’s roots sticking every which way. But it was thick, it could be hit with a bulldozer and knock the machine right back. The way the branches were positioned made it look like you were sitting under a mushroom. It was perfect.

It gave you just the right amount of shade.

A gorgeous view.

You could stay there for hours.

For days.

The sound of someone calling your name broke you out of your trance, lifting your head up from your sandwich, a smile tugging at your lips. The sight of Gojo waving erratically with unamused familiar faces in tow.

The white haired man practically sprinted over to you, helping himself to a bite of your sandwich making himself comfortable on the seat beside you.

A scoff left your lips, “Soturu. Wow, how lovely to see you. Yes, of course you can have a bite. Thanks for asking!” Offering him a fake smile pinching his cheeks, a little harder than usual an odd sound leaving his mouth. He just grinned at your actions, resting his arm around your shoulder tugging you closer to him.

“Soturu, behave. You’ve barely been here 2 seconds and you already managed to piss her off.” Suguru mused, sitting across from Gojo, his bangs blowing across his face. Shoko snickered at his words, opting for sitting on the edge of the table. You beamed up at the girl attempting to shrug off Gojo’s arm, but he didn’t falter. He tightened his grip on you, popping a few of your grapes into his mouth, pretending to not hear you struggle beside him.

“Shoko! My love, please save me.” Begging the brunette, reaching for her with both of your hands, Suguru sighed audibly while Nanami rolled his eyes at Soturu’s antics. The tall boy just wrapped another arm around you, squeezing you tighter.

“Soturu, do you remember that time last december when we went on a mission and the curse’s power had the power to shrink-”

Almost as if he had been struck by lightning, the blue eyed man released his hold on you instantly, red dusting his pale skin. Snickers left Geto’s lips clearly knowing the backstory, a satisfied hum left Shoko sending a wink your way. You tugged the brunette toward you peppering her face in kisses, loud smacks leaving both of your lips as you giggled to one another.

Shoko had been your best friend since diapers.

You had been through every stage of your life with that girl.

When you had turned 12, you had moved due to your father passing. You had begged and pleaded to not leave, offering any of your possessions but nothing helped.

Your mothers mind was made up.

Having to tell Ieiri that you were leaving was the worst moment of your life. You still remember everything that was said. All of the tears wept between the two of you.

Knowing her temper, the girl had no one to yell at but you. She blamed you at first, out of anger, but deep down she knew she was just trying to protect herself from getting hurt.

You never thought you would see her again but almost as if you guys were meant to be with one another. The pair of you didn’t meet again until you ran into each other at Jujutsu High.

You had never been more thankful in your entire life that you could see all of these awful curses, as long as it meant you could be with your best friend again.

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-

“And over here is where your dorm will be. You have one neighboring roommate. She’s nice. I’ll introduce you to her… yeah, right through here. ” The tall blonde spoke gently, unlocking your new dorm room giving you a chance to walk in first.

The room was much bigger than you had expected. It was bare. But you didn’t mind. You had plenty of belongings to make it feel like home in no time. Sighing softly as you kicked your slippers off at the entrance, your sock clad feet padding across the wooden floor. Making your way over to the window in the corner of your room. Peeking out the window, a soft gasp leaving your lips.

“Nanami! You never told me I had such a gorgeous view.”

“I wasn’t sure you even had a window.”

“C’mere. Look! You can see all the trees from here,” You mused to the tall man, motioning him over. He gingerly made his way over, bending way down to see the cherry blossom trees coating your windows view. You could see a creek from your room as well, a soft hum left his lips.

With the little space between you, your senses were overwhelmed with what you assumed was his natural scent. Smelling of fresh laundry and… was that cinnamon?

“… all I got was the view of a brick wall.” A snort left your lips snapping you out of your trance, nudging the blonde playfully. An unfamiliar look flashed across his face quickly clearing his throat, maneuvering around you to go towards your dorm door. “I-.. did you have any further questions?”

“Yes actually,” Anyone from a while away could see the nervous wreck that was Nanami Kento, a small part of you only meaning to poke fun at the 2nd year who was standing before you. “Is your dorm also in this hall?”

“Em- since girls and guys have to be in separate halls… I am- I am not.”

“Hm.. what a shame.” Uttering under your breath, knowing full well he could hear it. A rush of pink flooded his face, parting his lips at your words. The blonde fringe covering his eyes partially made you realize how cute his eyes truly were, a soft giggle leaving your lips.

“Nanami… we still have the rest of the tour to go on.”

“Right!- if you follow me…”

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-

A loud heaving noise to your left made you release Shoko, giving the giggling boy a glare as he looked proud at himself. Both you and the brunette gave him an amused look, gesturing towards him and the dark haired boy beside him.

“I didn’t think you of all people would be against same sex couples considering you have a whole ass boyfriend-”

“That’s not true. Whatsoever. He’s my husband-”

A wave of groans left your group's lips as his long limbs reached across the table to take ahold of Geto’s clasped hands, a look of feigned disgust coated his face. Nanami just rolled his eyes but you took notice of how he had moved his hands under the table. Holding back a chuckle catching his eyes, a faint blush creeped up his neck.

“You haven’t been here long have you?”

“No, not too long. I was bored and the weather was lovely, so I figured why not have my lunch here rather than at the school.” You shrugged your shoulders, finally taking a bite of your sandwich, looking up at the young girl whose lips had already been captured by yet another cigarette. “Shoko… tell me that’s your first one today. It’s barely 11.”

The girl stiffened her hand with the lighter stopping right before her mouth, avoiding your stare. Setting down the sandwich, leaning forward so your face was right under her gaze. She just sighed.

“I don’t want to lie to you…”

“Sho! I thought you were trying to quit.”

“I know, I know! But being around this dumbass makes it incredibly difficult. ” Tilting her head back towards the tall white haired man who was currently trying to balance a glass container on the top of his head, a goofy grin spread across his face.

Hold on.. that’s my glass container.

At the mention of Shoko’s insult he snapped his head toward the two of you. A stream of words began leaving his lips catching sight of your container tumbling off his head. A soft gasp left your lips as you scrambled to reach the glass container, a pair of hands reaching it before it touched the ground.

Nanami looked unamused by Gojo’s actions, setting the container into your awaiting hands, fingers brushing slightly, offering you a smile. A smile graced your lips before quickly turning into a frown, facing the white haired boy.

“Gojo.”

A beat passed, the boy turning his head around to face the tree trunk.

“I’m going to beat your ass.”

“You wish you could touch me.”

“You know I’m one of the only ones who can. That’s why you're not facing me right now.”

Another beat.

He started whistling to himself, his head moving side to side as he pretended to not hear you. A sigh left Geto’s lips, rising from his position on the bench. Shoko hesitated to move but she knew it best if she did, tossing her cigarette under her boot smothering it.

“Soturu. Let’s go before she ends up having to explain to Yaga where you went.”

Soft grumbles left his lips, begrudgingly standing up giving you a quick peek at you over his sunglasses. You pretended to cup your hands together, making him huff and begin to fast walk ahead of your friends. A giggle left your lips, watching him stumble over a rock.

“I’ll see you at training, sweets.” Suguru leaned down to bring you into a warm embrace, rubbing his back as he started after Gojo who was sulking from afar. Suppressing the laugh that begged to be let out at the sight of an almost grown adult, pouting with his arms crossed over his chest. Shoko pressed a chaste kiss onto your cheek, waving goodbye at you.

A sigh left your lips pressing your head onto the wooden table.

“I visibly saw the weight leave your shoulders once he left.”

“I swear. He makes my head pound. How does he even manage that?”

Nanami just let out a soft chuckle, crossing his arms in front of him as he eyed your form. His eyes drifted over your tousled hair splayed on the table, catching sight of a fairly deep cut on the back of your hand. Almost on instinct, his hand reached out, stopping right before he could touch your skin.

“What happened to your hand?”

“Hm?,” Lifting your head up to look at your hands, just now taking notice of the gash on your hand. The blood around it had already dried, looking like it had already begun scabbing over. “That is… a good question. I’m not entirely sure. Sometimes I just get a bunch of random cuts and bruises and have absolutely no recollection of where they came from.”

“It’s truly a surprise you’ve made it this far as a sorcerer if that’s the case.” Nanami hummed a smile tugging at his lips, a laugh leaving your body as your eyes locked with his. A comforting silence washed over the two of you.

The only sound you could hear was the rustling of the leaves above and below you. The breeze was nice and cool on your skin, tugging your shirt hems over your hands.

“Nanami?”

A soft hum.

“Have you ever thought about getting a lip piercing?” The strangest sound left his mouth eyeing your face to see if you were being genuine. Tilting your head at him, quirking an eyebrow at the blonde.

“I- I don’t think it would suit me.”

“Are you kidding? I genuinely thought you were secretly tatted under that uniform. A lip piercing- scratch that, any piercings would 1000% look killer on you. I think it suits your face.”

“... do you truly?”

“I have no reason to lie to you, Kento. I swear.”

His heart soared at your words, a smile gracing his face. He untucked his ears, not a single word leaving his lips. You stared innocently up at him, eyes trailing to where his hair now uncovered. A small gasp left your lips, the sight of pure joy lighting your face up made him chuckle, feeling his face heat up at the look on your face.

“NANAMI KENTO. YOU- YOU HAVE PIERCED EARS.”

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a/n: hi lovelies! this is my first time writing for jjk, i just recently finished watching the series. and i completely fell in love. i have written well over 10k worth of words on this story. plz let me know how you guys feel about it. lots of love <3

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gojot-t · 9 months ago

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You remember the first time that you brushed Suguru's hair was during a film marathon on your doom.

Satoru and Shoko are already sleeping and the film was long forgotten. He had taken his hair out of its usual bun, the strands falling down his shoulders in such a pretty way that you almost thought it was unfair, before looking at you and giving you the kindest smile you had ever seen in your life. "Want to do it?", was all he needed to ask.

At that time, you thought your heart would come out of your mouth. Face hot with embarrassment and hands shaking, every time your fingers ran through the soft strands, the smell of his shampoo entered your nose.

At the end of the night, as he laid his face on your shoulder, soft breaths on your neck making your skin shiver, he chuckled lightly at how quickly your heart was beating before whispering a soft "Goodnight." Just for you, with the intimacy of two lovers. You knew you were lost in love with the man.

After that, It became common for you to exchange touches and glances while no one was looking, like two silly teenagers in love.

But you think the most memorable one was during the summer of the second year. The boys had just arrived from a mission and something was off. You didn't know the details of what had happened, only that the vessel that was going to merge with Master Tengen had been murdered before that could happen.

“Riko.” Was all Suguru said when he came back, bruised and with dried blood clinging on him. “Her name was Riko.”

You don't know how to describe it, but at that moment, with eyes so dark and out of shine, he seemed to have lost something that would never come back to him.

Since then he is no longer your usual Suguru. Even though his presence was right there, you know that his mind was somewhere else far away, drowning in a spiral that you weren't sure you could save him from.

You realized things couldn't stay like this anymore when you found him sitting on one of the benches at Jujutsu High, looking down and wet hair dripping onto his white t-shirt. So distracted that he didn't even notice you until you sat down next to him, knees lightly brushing his.

“Suguru… Are you fine?” You already know what he's going to answer.

“Yes, just thinking a bit, that's all.”

You try to meet his eyes, but he avert his gaze away, the same hair you loved so much now served as a curtain over his eyes, distancing the two of you. Your heart breaks at the thought.

“Suguru…” you had thought a lot about how to comfort him, what to say, but now all the words seemed to escape you. Tongue stuck between your teeth, you wanted to scream at him, that you were here, to share his pains and sufferings with you, that he should never be afraid of being judged by you because you would love and kiss even the ugliest parts of him.

“...Your hair is still wet." Is what you tell him.

You stand up and your hand finds his, leading him to your room. He doesn't say a word the entire way, not even when you comb and dry his hair, with the delicacy of something fragile, as if he would break at the slightest touch.

He kissed your forehead when you finished.

That night you slept together for the first time, clinging to each other like it was all you had, his fingers marking your skin where they held, as if you were his rescue anchor and he would be lost far away if you let go. Not once did either of you complain or move.

So when days later you receive the news that he has disappeared after murdering his parents and an entire village, you're not quite sure how to react. It's as if the ground beneath your feet has disappeared, falling into an endless fall. Your stomach turns and your head feels like it's going to explode, with so many thoughts but at the same time completely empty.

You almost told Yaga to stop lying, that it's not funny, but then he looks at you with so much pity that you feel like you're going to vomit. Satoru, next to you, slams his fist on the table so hard that the wood breaks. He looks almost sterile as he screams that he refuses to believe it, that Suguru would never do that. You've never seen him so vulnerable, raw emotions on his skin for all to see. Shoko leaves the room without saying a word.

Your suguru is a gentle soul, too gentle for this world and you know that better than anyone. He exchanged letters and bought flowers for his parents when he visited them, he gave up his seat on the subway to the pregnant lady no matter how tired he was, he smiled for you even when the taste of curses was so bitter in his mouth that it seemed to burn. He always gave his all to others, never asking for anything in return.

you know that's the problem, hell might freeze over before you can hate Suguru. Instead, you blame the world for not being fair to him, the superiors for treating everyone like soldiers just waiting to be slaughtered, and especially yourself.

No matter how much you wish you had done differently, insisted more that time, demonstrated more, asked more, the damage was already done and things would never be the same again. These thoughts were nothing more than “what ifs” now.

That night, Suguru's warmth in your bed seemed to haunt you and beneath all the anger and sadness, as much as you wanted to deny yourself, you felt disappointed, betrayed that he had left without you.

To stain every part of your life with his presence only to leave abruptly without even looking back or saying goodbye. He really is a cruel man, you think bitterly to yourself.

You wonder how you can get over the loss of someone who was still alive, if things would be easier if Suguru was dead. Because then there would be some explanation for why his classroom chair remained empty, why Shoko kept forgetting her lighter (he always carried one with him because he knows she always forgets), why Satoru still got his favorite soda from the vending machine. Because then wouldn't you have this hope that he would come back to you.

Because then, two weeks after he left you so selfishly, when you finished a mission in the most desolate part of the city and he appeared in front of you with his hand outstretched, you would have hesitated a little more, no matter how much your mind screamed at you to not do something you would regret, that nothing good could come of it, your heart had already made a decision long time ago.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #this is a repost #bc tumblr turned off the reblogs

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lostsoulofdragon · 2 months ago

Text

Fae!AU Drabble

hello there :) I just wanted to share a small Drabble about the @valrayne-faeu [by @antlered-knight and @owl-bones] because I have suffered great brain rot by their AU

story is under the cut, please let me know what you think :)

The gala

Soul turned away from the loud gala. To many faes, to loud, to fast. She didn’t look back as she passed Nightmare, instead kept her head down and wings courtly folded behind her to avoid touching others.

Dodging a swallowing tail fae with reindeer like antlers, Souls eyes went to the doors leading outside.

An exit. A much needed exit.

There would be less summer fae out there, and she’d have some space to herself rather than the crowded dining hall she was currently walking through.

The hall was lit by flame less lanterns which emitted both warm light, and warmth- something that Soul had ached for when she turned fae. She’d stuffed her room with at least seven of these AND a fireplace running on end until she’d developed her current resistance to cold.

The marble floor made her shoes click quietly when she took a step, and with everyone else in here, that made up a symphony of steps and clicks and taps.

The high ceiling represented the night sky outside, and the many carpets on the walls made it seem as if said night sky hung down the walls. The carpets were grand, like- gigantic. Soul could probably fit her entire old village onto a single one of them. But they had to be big, and thick, to keep the warmth inside the ball room.

Cooling air rushed over Souls cheeks. Ah- that already felt better. She bowed her head at the peacock butterfly far that held the doors open for her, and folded her hands in her lap.

The woman wore her one of her best outfits for tonight- out of politeness, really. A furry scarf, white as snow, which matched her short hair. A black cloak hid her torso, a blue blouse, and various pockets filled with various trinkets. Of course, Soul wore her gloves, and rings above it. A simple black pair of trousers were tucked into her high boots.

Soul reached up her left hand as a ‘triii’ sounded through the cold air. The black and white falcon shed raised and trained darted over the heads of the few fae outside, safely landing on Souls arm, hoping over to her shoulder to nuzzle its head against her cheek.

Soul chuckled. “Hey there, Blizzard. Anything new?”

The bird trilled. Soul smiled. Of course she couldn’t understand the bird- but the falcon would bring her traces of magic in case anything happened. As the bird made no motion to fly off again, and instead began preening its wings, she resumed her walking.

“… why do I have to attend this gala anyway? I am royal falconer and fancier, yes, but I barely manage any of the important stuff. Maybe it’s etiquette- on second though it probably is to have EVERYONE attend a gala BOTH kings can be found at. But won’t that raise the stakes of an assassination-“

A weight lifted from Souls shoulder as Blizzard darted off into the sky. Then, she felt how another body collided with hers, effectively knocking her down-

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

… this wasn’t the snow beneath her. Soul blinked her eyes open. The fae she ran into held her up by her shoulders, giving her an apologetic smile.

Soul had never seen a fae like this.

Blond hair covered her eyes, and her skin was only a bit darker then Souls. She wore a cream Lolita winter dress with a shawl and a small black bow on its front. The shawls triangular shape covered the woman’s wing roots, that had yet to break open- a human. Well- half human. Their dress had a wide belt she’d tied into a bow, and fur on the inside to keep her warm.

A singular horn penetrated from her forehead, and her legs were those of a horse by what Soul could tell. She stepped back.

“Oh, it’s- it’s fine.”

Something about this fae struck Soul as… weirdly familiar. Maybe it was just that both were humans turning fae.

The summer fae shifted, reached up to rub at one of her ears. Soul recognized that tick and almost chuckled.

“… what may I call you?” Soul asked the other one, carefully choosing her words as to come off not threatening.

“… Lei.” “That’s a nice name.”

Lei smiled. She had no fangs, so she couldn’t have been tricked too long ago. “How about you?”

“…” As always, Soul thought of the name she’d give the other one. What if she gave ‘Soul’ to too many of them? Would she get wrapped up in promises she couldn’t get out of- stop. She cleared her throat.

“Please call me Soul.” The other fae smiled.

"Of course I will."

Soul raised an eyebrow. Lei had turned recently, so she didn't know too much about wordplays yet. Well, Soul wouldn't hold it against her.

Something familiar hung over the two. Neither of them knew what it was, but something was there. Soul offered a smile, and soon enough, the two found themselves on a stroll through the garden, chatting loudly about their own experiences of turning.

"And when I found the first white hair, I just thought I was getting old. Can you believe it?" "Actually, I can."

Laughter. "I saw you carrying a... falcon, was it?- earlier. Before we ran into each other, I mean- what was that about?" Lei asked.

"Oh, I'm just-" She was cut short by a high, melodic voice.

"Lei- ah, there you are!"

Soul and Lei turned. Before them stood-

Oh. Before them stood a skeleton with a wide smile, although it seemed a bit strained. His bright wings were stiffly held upwards, unmoving- like Nightmares wings whenever he went into publicity. Only that he didn’t… display them like THAT.

Golden designs were painted on his bones, and he wore a golden and white robe that covered most his body. His wrists and hands were visible, and he wore high boots from what Soul could tell. Despite the positive aura surrounding him, Soul couldn't shake the feeling of unease.

Lei on the other hand was fast to step closer to the skeleton. Her eyes were bright, and her fingers twitched as if she wanted to reach out to the fae.

"Peiscos." She bowed.

Soul felt her ears flatten. Well that wasn't good. She glanced aside, back at the male fae, and then gave a small bow herself. This... wasn't HER king. She was not obligated to pay him the same respect as Nightmare- right? No. Yes. Maybe? She wanted to scream.

With a nervous smile, the falconer looked back up again. The king was first to speak, luckily.

"Lei, why don't you introduce me to your friend?" Ah, good. Soul wouldn't have to fear for her name.

"Oh, yes. Peiscos, this is Miss Soul. Soul, this is the Summer Monarch."

She wanted to say something, but when she considered these words, a small wave of nausea overcame her. Oh, how cruel it was to loose the ability to lie. "It's... an honor to meet you, your majesty."

Ha, take that, weird magic that bound her words. Sometimes, Soul wished she was mute.

His... eyes were unnerving. Why did they bore into her like this? Why did this fae observe her like she observed the distant clouds, scanning for storms-

"Brother."

Soul felt a cold, clawed hand on her shoulder, and she froze up. Oh dear. Why was he here?

She turned her head, and looked up to the one-eyed king behind her. Her stomach dropped at his gaze- that was not a good one. Sure, he might be smiling, but Soul knew better then to fall for that. She swallowed thickly.

"Ah. Nightmare. It has been a while, hasn't it?" Peiscos voice dropped.

That twitch of Nightmares wings was more than enough signal for Soul. With an awkward smile, she broke the silence. "Forgive me, gentlemen, for I need to check up on a few of my carrier birds."

She did. Just not right now- but that information was not be withheld from them.

And unnecessary anyways, as Nightmares grasp on her shoulder tightened. "I don't think so, fancier."

... that wasn't per se a command- "Soul, stay." Okay, that was.

But- she wasn't a dog! It's not like he could actually...

Soul looked up at Nightmare. His cold eye bore into hers, and she swallowed. Alright. If he wanted to play THAT game- sure. Why not. But it was not one Soul enjoyed.

Her own expression darkened.

Nightmare managed a more genuine smile and promptly started a tour through the garden, talking to his brother. In one of the ancient languages Soul had yet to master.

She had once surprised Nightmare by cursing in German—he hadn't expected her to know the language—but besides German, Soul only knew English, and a few bits of Swedish and Latin.

But that wasn’t important now. Important was, that Soul could chat with Lei, who she found quite charming. So, they did, making the best of the situation. Now and then, their quiet chatter was unceremoniously broken by Nightmare just plainly asking Soul a question without caring if Lei or she was talking, or by Peiscos softly laying his hand upon Leis shoulder and waiting for her to talk.

It was… a stark contrast. Soul felt cold at the thought of how this must come off to their guests… but at the same time she didn’t mind. It gave her an excuse to ignore the glances and subtle gestures Nightmare threw her way.

Soul noticed them since a few months now. How Nightmares lower wings would twitch occasionally, but the twitches were mostly visible on the wingtails. How he sat just a bit closer to her rather than in the last corner of his library. How she’d get more invitations to dinner.

Nothing eases her mind. She was constantly wondering just WHAT the winter king was plotting. What did she have that he wanted to coax her into? Was it a punishment for their recent outing after finding that dragon pup? Did he just like to mess with her?-

She was thrown of guard by a shadow sweeping over her. A weight settled on her shoulder, forcing her to stumble. She caught herself by fluttering her wings. When she looked up, the black feathers of Blizzard tickled her cheek.

King Peiscos looked at the bird, mostly, a soft smile on his face. Nightmare eyed Soul up and down as if to say; get that bird under control. Soul smiled apologetically.

She excused herself- Nightmare didn’t stop her that time- and hushed off to her tower, Blizzard trilling warningly at everyone who dared to approach her.

So, Soul reached the tower without interruptions. She went to work quickly. The gala might mean calm and free time for others, but for the royal fancier, this was just tiring sometimes. Sure, her pigeons were only used to communicate within the closer areas around the castle, but that was hard enough, considering the sheer MASSES of fae in the winter palace right now. The rest went through magic, really.

What she didn’t expect was Horror standing in the tower, feeding the pigeons. He grinned as one of them sat on the top of his horn, and another one tried to balance on his hand to pick up the seeds the second they left the bag he held.

Soul paused, looked at Blizzard, who cooed coyly, and fluttered off. That attracted Horrors attention, of course, and he turned to the door.

His one good eye widened as he spotted her. Soul couldn’t blame him- their breakup had been rather sudden. “… Horror. Shouldn’t you… be on the gala?”

“Erm… I thought I could use my break to… feed your birds.” Soul raised an eyebrow.

Horror was a good guy through and through. For a while, the two had just… clicked. But then, it hadn’t anymore. Horror and Soul eventually returned to friends, with the only difference of Soul now and then requesting further distance. It wasn’t to hurt him, she could promise that.

“… thank you. For feeding them. I was just about to do that myself.” Horrors crooked smile made Soul smile. “It’s no issue. You know that.”

“Yes.” Silence. Horror cleared her throat, and rubbed the back of his neck. When had this gotten so uncomfortable?

“… so, I saw the summer king.” “Oh! Oh, that… sounds exciting.” “It’s… well, clearly not Nightmare. He’s… louder.”

Horror nodded.

Silence.

“Well. I’ll, uh… go then. Have a nice festival.” Soul mustered a smile. “I will try.” Horrors crooked smile widened, and he waved her goodbye as he left.

Soul buried her face in her hands- if she could only stop making promises!

altight, there you have it folks. After days of writers block and a few dumb decisions, there’s my Drabble. I hope you enjoy this Drabble, because I put effort into it, and I hope you can forgive if sometimes I wrote Leni, not Lei- the first name I’d picked for the girl was Leni.

alrighty then, I hope you liked it :)

(and yes the dinning hall in the beginning is heavily based on the dining hall in Hogwarts from Harry Potter, and I’m not taking criticism against that thank you :))

#valrayne-faeu #sona #drabble #fanfic #undertale au #faeu dream #faeu nightmare #faeu horror

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