#dandelion!reader

[cremeful]

sabrina is getting in dandelion!reader’s head and dandi is starting to push farmer!dadbf!stack away.

🌼 @prettyfilmz , @hallucinagin , @woahitslucyylu , @queenofklonnie22 , @cafeluvs , @bl3ssyn , @michifilmz , @tonichildsdaughterduh , @thebumbqueen , @tojisteddy , @nahimjustfeelingit-writes , @christinabae , @ami-s-k , @pinkkycherrish

[prythianpages]

But the Worms | Azriel

Azriel x Green Witch | Azriel is woken up by your daughter in the middle of the night to answer some of her questions.

warnings: fluff, dad Az

word count: 943

a/n: Just a short little fic that can be read as a stand alone. This was inspired by a scene from Bob's Burgers lol.

Rain pattered against the window steadily, accompanied by the distant rumble of thunder. Every so often, the sky would flare with a streak of lightning, briefly illuminating the room with a blue light before plunging it back into shadow. The storm was a familiar, comforting backdrop to Azriel’s slumber.

But his shadows, ever vigilant, stirred with a whisper of unease.

Azriel’s eyes fluttered open, drawn by the shift in his shadows. That’s when he heard them. The faint, hurried sound of small footsteps. His shadows fluttered toward the door as they sensed the hesitant shuffle against the wooden floor.

He didn't need his shadows to tell him who was on the other side. Had it been his first born, he'd never hear the steps as she loved to sneak up on him,. The door would've been open abruptly with no hesitation whatsoever but it's been years since she last had a nightmare. A nightmare she didn't welcome, at least.

That was not the case tonight. It was his second-born. Sweet little Alora, who, true to her name, should be dreaming of unicorns and rainbows as she loved to recount to him every morning, rather than being awake.

His gaze flickered to you. While Azriel was a light sleeper, you were a heavy sleeper and truth be told, you were sound asleep, back turned toward him. A shadow tenderly caressed your back before he shifted his attention back to the door. He was already sitting up in the bed, blinking away the sleep or at least trying when the door opened quietly, muted with the help of his shadows.

Alora stood at the door. Her hair, the exact shade of yours, was disheveled, the bangs she cut herself last week splayed over her forehead awkwardly. A rite of passage, you had called it, reminding him that your first born had done the same.

Her eyes, the exact shade of his, were wide and glistening, and there was a pout on her face.

Azriel’s chest tightened at the sight, wanting nothing more than to soothe whatever troubled her, despite his fatigue. He extended his arms out, and Alora ran right into them, her small frame immediately enveloped by his.

Cradling her to his chest, he pushed her bangs back and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “Did you have a nightmare?” He asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

“No. I haven’t slept at all,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

Azriel frowned, glancing at the clock. It was well past midnight, and his eyes were begging for sleep, lulled by the rain falling outside. “Is it the storm?”

Alora placed her hands on his chest, pushing herself up slightly. She spared a glance to your sleeping form before leaning in closer to her father, careful not to wake you with her voice. Though, Azriel doubted you'd wake at all.

Her hazel eyes, so innocent and pure, stared into his own. “Do you think worms have dreams too?”

Azriel's heart softened further. Her worries were so small, so wonderfully trivial compared to the burdens he had carried as a child.

“I’m sure they dream,” he murmured, gently pulling his daughter's head back to his chest, wishing for her to always have such simple worries. He also hoped she’d be content with his answer and finally drift off to sleep herself.

“But what do they dream?”

“The same things you do.” He replied, trying to stifle a yawn. He snuck a glance at you, still oblivious to your daughter’s insatiable curiosity.

“Do they get nightmares too?” 

Azriel fought back his groan. He loved his daughters deeply and strongly. He would go through all ends of the world for them. Any other time, he would entertain this conversation fully, but it was late, and Alora should be fast asleep like her sister. 

“Mel says worms come out when it storms so that we don’t hear their cries.”

Speak of the little devil herself. Mel was sure to get an earful from him. Tomorrow morning, or rather, in a couple of hours. Azriel took a deep breath, trying to muster the energy to explain, his body aching for rest.

Azriel could hear the thoughts swirling through her mind as she continued. “Why would they cry? Is it because of the bad dreams?”

“Don’t listen to your sister,” he said gently, running a hand through Alora’s tousled hair.

“But you told me to listen to her yesterday morning.”

“I did,” Azriel replied with a slight grimace, regretting that decision immensely at this very moment. Granted, he had said that after Mel told Lor to stop riling up Sprinkles, her pet scorpion. “But that’s different.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain tomorrow,” he said, his voice a mix of patience and weariness.

“But the worms–”

“The worms don’t have nightmares and they come out during storms because they love the rain. Now, go to sleep. Please.”

Alora let out a small gasp, her hand losing its tension against his chest. “You promise?”

“Yes.” Azriel replied quickly, not certain what exactly he was promising. He'd deal with it later.

“Okay.”

When he finally felt her body relax in his arms, he let out a breath of relief. He held her tighter in his arms, shifting them to face in your direction before settling Alora between you both. He didn’t have the energy to take her back to her bed.

He gladly gave in to the heaviness of his eyelids, his eyes closing shut and ready to embrace sleep under the comfort of the rain once more--

"Daddy?"

He didn't bother opening his eyes. "Yes?"

"I love you."

His lips tugged up into a smile. "I love you too, my sweets."

Alora snuggled closer to him, tiny hands grasping onto his larger one and placing it over her face. She always found comfort in his touch, despite the scars that marred his hands. It was something that never failed to make his chest swell with warmth. Along with the way both his daughters always looked up to him, eyes full of affection and admiration.

His thumb caressed her cheek, soothing her as his shadows settled back into their corner of the room, curling into the bed Alora had gotten them for Solstice this year.

For centuries, his shadows had slept among other shadows, usually underneath the bed or in the corners of rooms. But Alora had felt bad for them one night, and when shopping for Solstice this year, she had asked you to take her to the pet store and picked out the softest bed for Azriel’s shadows.

Though his shadows had never complained or shown any interest in comfier sleeping habits, they had vibrated with excitement at the sight of the gift. Now, they slept there every night, happy and content, snuggling amongst one another and curling into a ball.

As his thoughts began to blur and drift, the world around him softened, the edges of his awareness becoming fuzzy and indistinct. Now that he knew your daughter was okay and her curiosity satiated, he could go back to sleep.

His breathing slowed, deep and even, matching the gentle rise and fall of your own breath. Just as he was about to give in to the sweet embrace of sleep–

“Daddy?”

He could barely manage a grunt in response.

“Would you still love me if I were a worm?”

Oh, this was definitely your daughter.

series tag list:@fxckmiup, @aria-chikage

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna

[yuwuta]

childhood friends to lovers with yuuji is like he’s five and he catches frogs in the lake near his house on weekends fishing w his grandpa and brings them to you like a courting gift (and gets sad when his grandpa tells him he’s got to let them go again, but yuuji promises to catch even more for you next weekend). he’s six and learns he likes to cook and starts making snacks for you and always sits next to you at lunch to give them to you. he’s seven and very definitive that you’re his best friend in the whole world and he doesn’t leave your side during class or lunch or recess or ever. he’s eight and you’re much better at reading than him, but he’s not jealous or upset because that means sometimes you read the harder books to/with him and he learns he loves hearing your voice when you read out loud. he’s nine when he learns he’s got an older brother and even tho he takes to choso quickly, he doesn’t really trust him until you meet choso and declare that you think he’s cool. he’s ten and that summer you go away to sleep away camp for the first time and yuuji cries the first night you’re gone, but choso helps him write and mail letters to you while you’re away, and every weekend yuuji is up 8am to greet the mailman and receive his letter back from you.

he’s eleven when you both start middle school and it’s the first time you both aren’t in the same homeroom, but that doesn’t stop yuuji—he’s sitting by your desk before you even get to school, he’s outside of your classroom before lunch, walks to your classroom after lunch, the first face you see. he’s twelve the first time he realizes that you’re pretty—you’ve always been pretty, but this is different; you’re pretty like sunlight, pretty like his favorite meal, pretty like feeling of coming home. you’re thirteen the first time you get a love letter on valentine’s day, but it’s not from yuuji—it’s another boy in your homeroom that yuuji doesn’t like very much and he never knew why until that day.

once he learns he likes to cook, he starts making snacks for you and gives them to you at lunch and it escalates into packing you bentos almost every day when you two start high school. he’s sixteen when prom rolls around and he’s rocking on his heels asking you to go with him—“as friends, you know haha. if you want, since you’re not going with anybody else and—well megumi and nobara are doing the same thing so i thought? maybe it would work for us, too?”—and when you say yes he tries to play it cool but he jumps and clicks his heels on his way to run and tell megumi about it (and then choso takes approximately 400 pictures of you and yuuji before you two head off to the dance).

it’s not until he’s twenty and a junior in college, and you’ve caught your first sort of serious boyfriend cheating that yuuji finally says something. he always says he wishes it was more romantic, but even now at twenty-six as you watch yuuji laugh with everyone at your rehearsal dinner, and look the collage of pictures choso has proudly displayed, you can’t help but think that it was the perfect confession—that everything about yuuji has always been perfect and that you’re beyond lucky to have him. and when yuuji catches your eye across the table, he smiles all dopey again like he’s five and just caught that frog for you for the first time and you’ve become the center of his world all over again.

[qrrieterisunnq]

Mother's Day - Nico Hischier

the swiss love charm au

NICO!HISCHIER X AINSLEY!HUGHES — WARNINGS: nothing, just sweet pure content — SUMMARY: It is Mother's Day, so Freya and Nico surprise Ainsley with gifts. — WORD COUNT: 1,0K PART OF THE SWISS LOVE CHARM AU

There’s a quiet kind of strength in the way Ainsley Hughes loves, as fierce as it is soft. She doesn’t ask for flowers or grand gestures; her world revolves around bedtime giggles, little fingers gripping hers, and the courage to raise a child on her own.

All of her friends and her family are proud of her and have such respect for her. And for Nico, it is the same. He is amazed at how well she can raise her child alone. He doesn’t really know where or who Freya's father is, but he doesn’t care. The man is an asshole for leaving this amazing woman alone with this adorable girl. That was why he decided to make something for Ainsley, so she knows how much Nico adores her and respects her.

A few days ago, Nico and Freya had their usual FaceTime when they, well, more of him, came up with the idea of a Mother’s Day gift. Freya told him that she will craft something with Quinn, and Nico said that he will make something too, when Quinn told him that Ainsley doesn’t really cut flowers.

That’s when he decided to make an artificial flower bouquet. He saw this DIY on Pinterest the other day, and he just wanted to do something for her that would show he does care.

Even though he was in Denmark for the world's, he told his neighbour to send the bouquet to her apartment. And he even had Quinn FaceTime him when he got there.

Just as he enters his hotel room after dinner, his phone rings, showing Quinn’s name.

“My neighbour from downstairs just called me that the package is here, so in a moment it should be at our doors,” Quinn says quietly as soon as Nico accepts the call.

“Thanks again.” Nico gives him a curt nod of appreciation.

“Yeah, sure. Not that I’m a big fan of this, but whatever makes Ainsley happy,” he grumbles the last part quietly, but loud enough for Nico to hear.

And Nico gets it, if this same situation were happening with Nina, he would act the same way.

“I know.”

There is a moment of silence before the sound of the doorbell rings in the background of the call.

“I got it!” he can hear Ainsley yell, and not even a second later, he is looking at Ainsley’s back as she opens the door, taking the package from the delivery man.

“Uh, but I didn’t order anything,” she says with confusion, as the deliveryman gives her paper to sign.

“It is not an order, Miss. The sending address is from New Jersey, Newark,” the man says impatiently, and moves the paper to Ainsley again. This time, Ainsley signs, and with a small smile, she closes the door behind the man after saying bye.

“What is it?” Quinn asks as nonchalantly as he can, while he holds the phone in a way that Nico can see her reaction.

“I don’t know. It’s from New Jersey.”

“Maybe Nico?” Quinn asks with a raised brow.

“No, he is back in Europe, for the world's, remember?” she says, still confused, but she sets the package on the floor and sits to it.

“Well, then try to open it.”

Nico, who listens to their conversation, can’t hold in a smile. He likes seeing her surprised, and he doesn’t want to sound too cringy, but he’d like to do it for the rest of their lives.

Hesitantly, she opens the package, a wide smile forming on her lips. “What is it?” Quinn asks, peeking inside the package, his eyes widening.

“It’s a…it’s a handmade bouquet,” she clears her throat as she pulls it out gently. “It’s from Nico,” she chokes on nothing, looking softly at the bouquet.

Quinn looks from the bouquet back to his phone, noticing how gently Nico is looking at his sister, and at that moment, it strikes him.

This man cares for his sister, and even for his niece, who was taking her pre-lunch nap, which she’s probably up from now. And not even a minute later, Freya’s calls sound through the apartment. “I get her,” Quinn smiles at her and walks to her, handing her his phone. “There is someone who’d like to speak to you.”

“Happy Mother’s Day, Ainsley.” Nico chirps, a wide smile on his lips.

“Hi, oh, thank you,” she giggles, a surprise written all over her face. “You were on the call the whole time?”

“Yeah, wanted to watch your reaction,” he grins, sitting down on his bed. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s beautiful,” she smiles, looking down at the pink and red flowers. “Did you make it?”

“Yeah, spend like two days on it,” a blush rushes to his cheeks, as he scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“They are really beautiful, thank you, Nico.”

“Yeah, well, that is just a part of the surprise; the other has Freya.”

“Mommy!”

“Hi, baby!”

“Hoppy mama day!” she shrieks, jumping on Ainsley and showing a paper in her face.

“Oh, thank you, baby girl,” Ainsley says, peppering her daughter’s face with kisses. “Can I look?” she points at the paper in Ainsley’s hand.

“Yup. Hewe,” she hands it to her, looking down, noticing Nico on the phone. “Gwizzly! Hi!”

“Hey there, princess!” he grins at her, making himself more comfortable in his bed. “Wow, you had a really lovely dress.”

“Das Ariel,” she says, showing him her dress.

“Oh, really?” he says in interest. “Wow, beautiful.”

“Freya, baby,” Ainsley says softly, patting her thigh. “Thank you so much, it’s so beautiful.”

“Twank you, mommy. Gwizzly helped.” She nods her head in acknowledgment.

“Really? Well, that is nice of him, isn’t it?” Ainsley’s eyes flicker to the phone screen, her eyes sparkling, when she notices that Nico is already looking at her. Mouthing ‘thank you’, she listens to Freya as she rambles about something, while Nico hums in acknowledgment.

What Ainsley doesn’t notice is Quinn, standing a few feet from them, watching them with soft eyes and hands in his pockets. Even though he doesn’t like the idea of Nico with Ainsley, he has to admit that he is treating her like a Queen.

And he would be an asshole for not noticing it.

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Toss a Coin to Your Witcher

A/N: This blog no longer has a set list of fandoms, I'm just writing about the every big beefy boi i see (this week it happened to be Geralt). I felt like him and Jaskier (and you) deserved an enjoyable night for once.

Relationship: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Tags: geralt of rivia x reader, geralt x y/n, The Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier/Dandelion, the Witcher, fluff

WARNINGS: minor mentions of sex, but nothing graphic

Summary: After slaying a village's flock of monsters, they throw a celebration for Geralt, Jaskier and yourself. Unfortunately for the Witcher, some of the entertainment is at his expense.

Or, you all sing everyone's favorite song, much to Geralt's chagrin.

Word Count: 1.9k+ (GIF credit to @thejingshi)

It’s a night of celebration.

After the slaying of a Harpy flock, the village you rode into just days ago is ripe with excitement. The tavern is full of who you assumed to be everyone in the village and their families, with a crowd spilling into the narrow dirt path outside. Ale flows plentifully, brought in by the barrel when word of the Witcher’s success first broke. 

In spite of it being a celebration of his aptitude for monster slaying, Geralt was unsurprisingly difficult to persuade into attending. Jaskier and yourself had spent well over an hour goading him, threatening a journey full of off-key singing and never-ending harassment if he didn’t. You'd like to think his affection for you has some bearing on his decision, but chances are he's far more concerned about being pestered for the foreseeable future. 

So along you go- The Witcher, his lover, and his bard. 

And no, the setup for a bad joke isn’t lost on you when your odd trio trots into the tavern. Though, jokes aside, the celebration is lively and cheerful. Jaskier finds himself herded to the front of the crowd, playing along with other local musicians. The tunes are upbeat and fast, and an impressive amount of townsfolk dance along. 

As usual, Geralt remains in a shadowed corner. His mug is half-full of ale and his lips stay pursed. He speaks softly to villagers as they stop to thank him and waves off frequent offers of livestock as additional payment. You kept him company for some time, but eventually let Jaskier drag you into the crowd for a sorry attempt at dancing. Needless to say, it lasts mere moments before you retreat to a table full of gossiping women who are unafraid to bat away the bard’s hands when he begins the hunt for a new dance partner. 

It grows late when you wander back to Geralt’s side and drop into the booth beside him. Your vision is bordered by a golden haze and warmth radiates from your ale-filled belly. Contentedness flourishes deep in your chest, and you’re determined to savor the rare taste of it. 

“You’re happy.” Geralt remarks. He lowers the mug and swipes foam from his upper lip. 

“Quite.” You drop your head onto his shoulder. “And quite tired, if I’m being honest.”

Quick to take note of your needs, Geralt squeezes your knee. 

“We don’t have to wait for the bard,” He rumbles, “he can find his own way back to the inn.”

The idea is tempting; Geralt’s warm body combined with a soft mattress beneath you sounds like heaven after a long couple of days. You nudge the toe of your boot into the floor as you debate it, pausing as the roar of the party quiets and everyone looks to the stage. 

Jaskier makes his way up the steps, lute in hand and quirky grin plastered on his face. He winks in Geralt’s direction, eliciting a groan from the Witcher. 

“Good ev- yes, yes, quiet down- Good evening, friends.” Jaskier is obviously in his glory with the audience trained on him. “I just wanted to give my friend, your saviour, a proper send off from this lovely celebration.”

You giggle at the exasperation that settles itself onto Geralt’s face. 

“I’d like to play a little tune for all of you, one that you may have heard already.”

Jaskier wastes no time plucking away at the opening notes to a familiar song. 

“When a humble bard

Graced a ride along

With Geralt of Rivia

Along came this… song”

You can’t help the smile that splits your face. Geralt may hate the tune, but you are a fan. 

“...And so cried the Witcher...”

The tavern breaks out into song alongside Jaskier. You cackle as Geralt drains the remainder of his mug. He gently grasps your hand and pulls, maneuvering towards the door. 

“He thrust every elf, far back on the shelf…”

“Oh, don’t be a sourpuss, Geralt.”

You dig in your heels, knowing full well that he would continue to drag you if he pleased. The Witcher’s golden eyes sweep over you, pleading for escape in the most comical way possible.

Villagers swarm, and you spot Jaskier picking his way through throngs of bodies to get to you. He’s still singing, strumming the lute and keeping pace with the chaos. Geralt seems to resign himself to his fate, leaning back against the doorframe. You push onto your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Through all of his hunts for monsters and mayhem, he’s never looked as nervous as he does now.

“I love you.” You chirp as a preemptive apology, taking a step in the bard’s direction. “And this song.”

“That’s my epic tale, our champion prevailed….”

“It’s not a great song.” Geralt quips as Jaskier thrusts a mug of ale into the Witcher’s bear paw of a hand. 

“Defeated the villain, now pour him some ale!”

Jaskier keeps the same hand free of his lute as the other string players pick up the beat. He reaches out to take yours, voice rising in volume for the crescendo of the song. 

“I thought you were tired?” Geralt tries as a last-ditch effort to keep you at his side, but slides down into the closest chair when you elect to go with Jaskier. One big hand scrubs down his face, apparently from embarrassment and vexation with his cohort. You swear there’s a tinge of red on his cheeks.

“Toss a coin to your Witcher, Oh Valley of Plenty.” You join in with Jaskier and the villagers, singing loudly.  “Oh Valley of Plenty, Oh…”

Jaskier twirls you around, forcing your feet into a sloppy jig that you’re sure would be much easier if he wasn’t just as inebriated as you. Geralt’s eyes never leave your spinning form, begging you to spare him from this public torture. 

As the final verse approaches, you break apart from the bard. Your hands find Geralt’s shoulders, surprise painting your face when he swings you in a lazy circle.

“Geralt, are you…. Dancing?” 

It only lasts a moment before his hands slip down from the small of your back, one hooking your opposite hip and giving a firm tug towards the door. Jaskier is out of sight, sucked back into the herd, though his distinct voice stands out amongst the chorus. 

“Only to get you to the door.” The Witcher murmurs, close enough to your ear to make you shiver. 

A chilly night breeze caresses your skin as he herds you out the door. You stumble on a loose stone, though Geralt’s quick hand captures your upper arm before you can go far. A drunken laugh slips out of your mouth as he playfully pushes you up against the tavern wall. Applause erupts from inside as the song closes out with a familiar flourish.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t even stay for the song written for you.” You admonish him even as he nuzzles his nose into your hairline. His breath smells of ale, and his feline eyes sweep over your face. “The champion of the village, as I heard the barkeep say.”

“Hm…” Geralt hums and presses his lips to yours. “I don’t want to be the village’s champion, I only wish to be yours.”

Your cheeks flush at his words, but you lean up to continue the kiss anyway. One of his hands anchors itself to the wall beside your head, and the other cups your cheek. Long fingers brush your ear and the sensitive skin of your neck while his tongue traced your bottom lip. You moan against his mouth and stand on your toes to kiss him properly . One hand slides beneath his tunic, massaging warm skin and taut muscles. 

“They would disappear while I’m trying to - oh, for Melitele’s sake!” 

You startle against the Witcher, head whipping to the side to find Jaskier with one hand covering his eyes. Geralt, usually so attuned to his surroundings, merely grunts his disapproval at the interruption. 

“Do you two ever stop? Or just wait until you get to the inn?” Jaskier’s hand falls away, and he gestures inarticulately at a few passing villagers as they exited the tavern as if they had any idea what he was on about. “They do this all the time!”

Geralt’s chest rumbles with agitation, the heat of his body still pressed close. Even with such dear friends, he always exudes dominance.  “Have you ever considered that maybe you just interrupt all the time?”

“Oh, well pardon me for just existing,” Jaskier’s voice is all drunken exasperation, and you withhold a giggle. “How I manage to keep my escapades private while you both flaunt it about is beyond me.”

You scoff halfheartedly at your companion. “Jaskier, I’ve accidentally seen you in compromising positions more times than I care to count. With various…conquests. You have no room to talk.”

He opens his mouth to retort before Geralt cuts him off with a single look. “Back to the inn it is, then.”

Once again, his hand cups your hip to pull you along. Torches guide the way, and Jaskier has no choice but to follow since you are all headed in the same direction. He mumbles his thoughts to no one but himself, fiddling around with his lute and bowing dramatically to the passing villagers who compliment his performance. 

“At least someone appreciates it.” 

So you laugh and poke fun at each other while trekking across town to the inn, tucked into the Witcher’s side. Eventually you join in with the bard’s antics and all is right in the world. You walk arm and arm to placate Jaskier, teasing him about his long list of female partners as Geralt walks behind you both as a silent sentry. A few paces away from your destination, discarded on the dirt pathway, you notice a lost gold coin lying near a flowerbed. Jaskier obliges your pause, dipping down as you bend to grab it. Mischief runs through your veins and mingles with the alcohol.

“Hey, Geralt.” You turn to the Witcher and use your thumb to flick the coin to him. “Found something for you.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth. “Toss a coin-”

“Absolutely not.” The Witcher grits, though he still tucks the coin away. “I’ve had just about enough of bards and song tonight.”

Geralt steals you away from Jaskier, making a beeline to the inn. All of his grumpiness is purely a front, made clear by his request to the innkeep to have a hot bath and a meal ready for both your shared room and Jaskier’s. As soon as you make it behind a closed door, his lips set out to memorize every hill and valley of your body. Rough but attentive, Geralt’s hands grope your sides, and you moan his name when lips trail down your chest and looped back up.

“Maybe I should toss a coin to my Witcher more often.” You tease against his mouth, lips curling up in a coy smirk. 

Geralt pauses only a moment before nipping at your bottom lip, hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to draw blood. Pleasure simmers in your chest when he soothes the pain away with his tongue.

“You watch your mouth.”

Between labored breaths, with a hand tangled in locks of bone-white hair, you manage a response. 

“I don’t think I will.”

--

Thanks for reading, much love ♥

Masterlist

[king-manta-ray]

we all know and love sunflower toshi, but what about dandelion toshi?

I'm a fool for never considering this- allow me to redeem myself.

Dandelion : a small yellow flower which represents healing, resilience, and hope

// xReader Oneshot starts below; extra doodles at the bottom//

————————————————————————

“Look, Toshi, dandelions!”

Bright yellow met his gaze as Yagi shook himself out of his thoughts, the voice chirping from beside him drawing his attention to the wild patches of weeds sprouting out across the courtyard. You had insisted that the two of you go out for some fresh air, once he was discharged from the hospital, practically guiding him alongside you to a small path leading to various places in nearby nature.

It had been a week sitting up in a hospital bed while doctors and nurses tended to his broken limbs, his shattered arm still bound even now, useless against him in its sling. While police spoke to him about the League and their next actions – his next actions. You had been beside him the whole time, holding his less mangled hand in yours, wiping tears with the other that first night – when he had his final fight… when he was forced to retire.

His thoughts were so heavy, uneasy with this newfound idleness. He was slipping into the dark recesses of his mind; stuck on all the things he could no longer do. No longer be.

But you were there, guiding him back to the light with gentle hands and promises of a new future – different, but bright.

You were smiling, kneeling before the bundle of yellow dandelions that were smiling wide up at the sun, having not yet entered the stage of fuzzy white heads, so full of wishes. Small resilient things they were, growing up throughout field and concrete and between gaps in busy city spaces. Always eager to be in places people would think impossible, popping up out of the hard-caked earth with an ‘Aha! Here I am!’ to those who found them.

Gentle fingers picked a flower off the stem, careful not to split the delicate skin of the plant more than necessary. Your thumb rolling the leftover stem against the pads of your index and middle finger. Then you looked up at him, a cheeky smile on your face as you held it up to him – squinting.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“It looks like you.”

He blinked, still standing beside you as you compared him to the little weed in your hand. He had been crestfallen ever since the doctor told him the news, news he knew already, that All Might was gone. It hurt, and in some instances, knowing that he was finished and done – hurt more than when the man who did this put a hole in him. So, it was unsurprising when he caught you drawing his attention elsewhere, desperate to cheer him up even just a little.

You were afraid he would drown otherwise, too lost in a society that no longer had a pillar of light.

So, you were staying positive, determined to be his beacon through his time of grieving, if he would allow you. Besides, as you tilted your head this way and that dramatically – you saw a flicker of a grin spread across his exhausted face.

Then he laughed.

“I’m a weed?”

“No! You’re a dandelion! Your hair – it looks just like the petals.”

It was true, all spread out in the sun, gold and wild. He chuckled, a tired rough sound. “I suppose it does.”

“It’s pretty like you, too.”

His face warmed under your observations, using his still bandaged but movable arm to rub at his neck. The flower remained in your hand as you lowered it, grinning up at him sweetly.

“oh.”

“And strong, resilient, these little guys could grow anywhere if you let them. I think we should take this as a sign!”

As you rose to walk back to him, flower in hand, you reached to slip it in his. Yagi wasn’t big on superstitions, or luck for that matter, but as you brushed strands of blonde out of his eyes, flower held in the cage of your hands, he felt the overwhelming feeling of being the luckiest man in the world – even just for a moment. A flicker of light through his dark times.

“Why is that?”

“Dandelions can mean many things; joy, healing, strength, transformations, but they’re also a symbol of hope!” You softened, leaning into him. “Just like you.”

His smile flattened ever so slightly, yours following suit after a beat of silence, as a sudden sadness overtook both of you—

Because that wasn’t how it was anymore.

His hand squeezed yours, little weed in the palm of his hand.

And that was ok.

————————————————————————

Bonus doodle I made while thinking of this lol (my camera is fucked forgive the quality)

[swanimagines]

The Witcher: Imagine being in love with Jaskier, but feeling heartbroken every time you see him and Yennefer together, because you think they’re together, unaware that Jaskier is in love with you too.

requested by anon

Note: nowadays all requests are done straight to asks, this is my old template of posting and I no longer have their asks!

Note 2: I haven't watched the show past S2 (and likely won't watch it past S2, at least for now) so my new fics for it place themselves during S1 or S2. Just so anyone won't be confused if I get some details wrong that are clarified in later seasons, I'm unable to read the books unfortunately.

THE VERSE ABOUT LOVE

You had stared at Jaskier for what felt like an hour now. Seeing your best friend Yennefer sitting across from him, her hand on his arm, laughing, was a pretty clear sign that their resentment from months ago had melted away and turned into something… positive.

Just not in a way you would have wanted it to turn out. You had hoped that they’d put their disagreements aside, maybe even become friends because you cared about them both, but back when you told Yennefer that for the first time, you didn’t know how you’d feel about Jaskier, your fellow bard, a year later.

Because somewhere along the line, you had fallen hopelessly in love with him.

But now, watching him with Yennefer, seeing how he laughed with her, you couldn’t help but have flashes of what happened between them behind closed doors.

“You look like someone ran over your favorite lute,” Geralt’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. He slid onto the seat across from you, the contents of his mug sloshing a little as he set it down.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, quickly averting your eyes from Jaskier to your drink. 

Geralt turned to look at the pair and grunted. “If you’re worried about them,” he said, “don’t be. They’re not–”

“It doesn’t matter,” you cut him off. “He’s free to be with whoever he wants.”

Geralt raised his eyebrows and you knew he didn’t believe you actually didn’t care and were okay with it, but respected your unspoken plea and said nothing further.

You took another sip of your drink, hoping the taste of alcohol would wash away the feeling in your throat. But of course, it didn’t. You closed your eyes as you swallowed the bitter liquid, and you heard Geralt grunt again.

“Things aren’t always what they seem,” he said, and you slowly opened your eyes to meet him.

“It pretty damn much looks exactly what it is,” you argued, holding yourself back from looking at those two lovebirds. “You travel with them, at least more than I do. Are you seriously claiming there’s nothing between them?”

Geralt didn’t answer at first, taking a swig from his mug. Then, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You should talk to him.”

You scoffed. “What difference does that make?”

You swore you saw a small smirk on his lips. “You might get surprised.”

Geralt chuckled, which caught you off guard. You had never seen him chuckle like that. When he was amused, he grunted. When he was annoyed, he grunted. You had only learned to tell what kind of grunt it is after months of knowing him. You stared at him, and he shook his head. “Yennefer doesn’t want him. And he doesn’t want her.”

“What? No, that can’t be right. Just look at them, they–”

Geralt interrupted you, “and if you weren’t too busy wallowing, you’d notice that Jaskier’s been sneaking glances at you every time you’re not looking.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you thought he was joking. But Geralt didn’t joke. Not like this. “You’re lying.”

Geralt grunted, looking over at Yennefer, who had left Jaskier’s side, and then at Jaskier who still leaned against the counter. “Go ask him. See it yourself.”

Then Geralt left your table without another word, leaving you to stare at Jaskier.

For a moment, you felt like roots grew under you as you sat there in daze. Could it be?

Jaskier seemed to notice your staring and flashed you a smile, which finally made you stand up. You didn’t want to seem creepy by just staring at him with wide eyes, Jaskier would soon think you’re possessed by some kind of desire demon if you looked at him like that.

You took in a big breath and walked over to him, which prompted him to smile at you again.

“Hello there, my darling,” Jaskier greeted you, and your heart skipped a beat. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You faltered for a moment, suddenly hyper-aware of the way his hair fell slightly into his face and how his shirt was just a little loose at the collar, the top button undone. Focus, you scolded yourself.

“I need to talk to you,” you forced yourself to say, and Jaskier tilted his head.

“Oh? Well then, what’s on your mind?”

Your brain short-circuited again. Say it. You opened and closed your mouth like a fish, and hit yourself internally from how stupid you must have looked. Wide-eyed, mouth opening and closing, looking like an idiot. 

After a moment, Jaskier spoke again. “Hey, are you all right?”

That was it, it broke the dam. Before you could think better of it, the words spilled out.

“I’m in love with you, Jaskier,” you blurted out, and the words after that came in a quick flurry, your lips barely able to keep up with the pace. “I have been in love with you ever since we began singing together, and I know it’s stupid, especially since you and Yennefer seem so happy–”

“Wait, stop!” Jaskier cut in. You blinked and to your surprise, you saw how his cheeks flushed pink, before your shoulders dropped again in disappointment. Of course even the name of Yennefer made him blush, he was a romantic, acting like a teenager in love after all. “What did you just say?”

You groaned, there was no going back now. “I said I’m in love with you. But it doesn’t matter and I will leave if you want me to. You’re happy with Yennefer, and that’s what I want for you, happiness. Even if it’s not with me.”

He stared at you for a moment, and you could hear your heart drumming in your ears, you could feel the blood rushing into your face. You wanted to sit down, you regretted all of this, you had ruined everything, you–

“Yennefer?” he repeated, cutting off your thought train. “You think–? Oh, stars above, no.” He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Yennefer and I? That’s not… It’s not what you think. We’re friends now, yes, but that’s all. She’s been teasing me about–”

He cut himself off, before he looked down for a moment.

“She’s been teasing me,” he continued, “about how often I look at you. How I can’t seem to stop writing songs about you. How obvious I am.”

Your eyes widened. Was he saying what you thought he’s saying? “Obvious?”

Jaskier smiled, a little shyly, and nodded. “Apparently to everyone but you. I…” He trailed off, taking a deep breath. And then he spoke almost as quickly as you had a moment ago, “I’ve been in love with you for ages. Truly, madly, hopelessly. And I thought you’d never notice.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “You… what?”

He reached out, his fingers brushing yours on the counter. “I’m saying,” he murmured, “that if you’re in love with me, and I’m in love with you, perhaps we could… uh, do what people in love tend to do after finding out about each other’s feelings.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The whole tavern was quiet, blurring around you, and you could only see Jaskier standing there before you. Then, without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him – hesitantly at first, but it deepened as soon as Jaskier pulled you closer.

When you finally pulled away, you rested your foreheads together and Jaskier chuckled. “This is going to make my new favourite song.”

You laughed, still not quite believing what was happening. “Shut up and kiss me again, bard.”

---

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[seineko]

it's fluff, again, but minors still do not interact!

series: dandelions

chapter i: the seeds

d. ragnvindr x reader (female)

warning(s): mentions or hints of suicide but nothing is attempted (it's just a misunderstanding), the reader is not exactly inclusive as they have a specified personality, preferences, gender (female), a dead grandfather and unknown parents so

word count: 2,275

note: i know it's a bit late, but my brain buffered for quite sometime

happy birthday, 'luc! i hope you celebrate and have fun with your family today and for the many more years to come!

» next chapter (not yet available)

"grandma?" at the responding hum of your grandmother, whose eyes never left the pinked skies of mondstadt and the water reflecting the gentleness of the setting sun, a seven-year-old you asks, voice hoarse from crying as you nuzzle into her cotton dress, "can i talk to grandpa one last time? i want to tell him that i love him.”

you never understood then, the slight tremble of her hand as she combs its fingers through your hair, it was as much for grounding her as it was for soothing you, "not directly, no. but remember what i told you about dandelions?"

"that lord barbatos will receive it if you blow it after wishing for something with your entire heart," you say, trying to remember the exact words but unable to with the exhaustion slowly taking over you from all the crying. "will grandpa be able to hear it too now?”

"whenever you want to talk to grandpa, close your eyes, think of whatever you want to say to him before blowing on the dandelions," the fingers running through your hair never cease in their movements. "lord barbatos will carry your message to grandpa.”

those words always stuck with you. and, while logically you knew now, almost thirteen years later, that they might not be true, whenever you missed your grandpa, you always found yourself on the dock near the side gate of the city, the place where you spent most of your time with him.

even now, not exactly the middle of the night but not early either, after getting your grandma to rest, you sneak past the snoring guards out of the east gate of mondstadt, plucking the only dandelion that hasn't bloomed into a flower beside the said gate before climbing up the pier and stopping at the edge.

mondstadt, especially the city, always feels safe. despite the time of the day, with people like the darknight hero and the knights of favonius - albeit, they do slack off sometimes, like those guards you snuck past, but they're human, and you can understand where they're coming from - guarding it, no other place would feel as safe as mondstadt does to you. so you have no fear moving around even during night.

as you close your eyes, like every other time, to think of a message you want to pass on to your grandfather, unlike usual, you feel two firm arms wrap around your waist as they pull you back with ease, voice that you can't quite place where you heard hastily speak, "what are you doing?!”

when the situation finally registers in your brain, your first instinct is to pinch the arms around you, screaming loudly, "what are you doing?! let go of me!" but to no avail, the thickness of whatever outer layer the other person was wearing too much to even feel the pinch.

"not until you say that you won't jump!" you hear the voice say firmly, the words flowing slowly, like a syrup, in your brain.

"huh?! what do you mean?!" you reply back, equally panicked, your mind not in a state to think logically.

"i know life can be hard, but at least think of people that care for you. this is not the solution!" the voice continues, wrapping around your waist even tighter, but never answering the question you asked.

"let go of me! i'm not going to jump!" you squeak even louder, desperate to get those bulky arms off of you.

"are you certain-"

"i was not jumping in the first place!" you cut the voice off, inserting your thumbs into the gap between your waist and his arms, "look, if this is a depraved attempt of yours to get your hands around-" that does the trick, the arms around you instantly loosen and you turn around with an icy glare, looking to run as soon as you can without having to say another word to the idiot (and also for safety) but you stumble a bit as you see who exactly was the said idiot.

it was the protector of mondstadt itself. the darknight hero.

you stand there, gaping like a fish as you see the masked man's eyes widened in shock as he hurries to defend himself, "i can assure you that is not the case, i just thought you were about to-”

"mr. darknight hero," your low blurt cuts him off again, but his face twists slightly at the address.

"please do not call me that," the voice of his is tinged with slight exasperation, as though he has said that same thing quite a few times before. "and, i want to resolve any discrepancies about... i thought you were about to jump. that is the only reason i promise. i apologise for doing so without permission and a prior warning…”

you are pulled back from the trance when you hear him stumble over his own words, hand reaching up to scratch the back of his head as he tries to explain himself.

"um... it's alright. i can understand. i just blurted that out because i was panicking," your throat feels scratchy as you say that, hands fiddling with themselves to calm yourself. "i really wasn't trying to jump, though i can understand why you would come to that conclusion. it's just that i was-”

that reminds you of the sudden emptiness of your hands and dandelion flower that was supposed to be there. you look around frantically until you see the stem on the wooden floor of the pier devoid of any seeds that you remember surrounding it just sometime ago.

"oh no..." your voice is slightly mournful as you bend down to pick it up. it was the last one with seeds close to the east gate.

the expression on your face must've been pitiful as you hear his throat clear, "i apologise for that too. i will fetch you another one. please give me a moment.”

before you could look at him and refuse, the red-haired man dashes away from your sight and appears in front of you with two dandelions clutched into his hand at a speed you didn't know was possible.

"here," eyes behind the mask dart to your face for a moment before going back to the item clutched into his own hand. gently, you take what you were offered. "what exactly were you doing here at this time? if not... you know.”

"if you don't mind me asking, of course," he adds as he sees your eyes dart in hesitation, teeth sinking slightly into your lower lip.

after racking your brain for sometime, you settle on, "i was just missing someone," not wanting to overshare but also not wanting to dismiss him completely.

"i see," you swear you can hear the empathy in those couple of words. "inform me after you are finished with your task.”

"hm? whatever for?" your eyebrows furrow slightly as soon as those words are out of your mouth, mentally hissing at yourself as you hope that they didn't sound as rude as you thought they did.

"i will accompany you back to your house," one of his hands fiddles with the strap on the glove of the other. "it is not safe to wander about by oneself at this time of the day.”

"i really appreciate the thought, but that is quite unnecessary," you let out hastily. "i am quite familiar with the city after dark."

"i insist," despite the mask, you see his eyes glint with determination and hear the slight firmness in his voice. "i couldn't possibly sleep with my conscience weighed down by the fact that i left a civilian - a female at that - to fend for themselves in the dead of the night.”

"but-" you are cut off.

"please do not refuse.”

after a few minutes of silence, you nod half-heartedly.

"then please call for me after you are done with your task, i will stand near that tree," with that he turns around, hair flipping at the movement, and pads towards the tree that he pointed towards.

clutching the dandelions close to your chest, you turn around, eyes closing as you think of what you want to say.

'grandpa, i trust you are doing well in the afterlife. don't be a recluse like you were while with us, only ever talking to grandma or me, okay? hopefully you already made a friend or two there. if not, please do so like i've been telling you since forever.

'grandma is showing signs of getting old. before you panic, it's nothing worrying, it's normal things like, the other day, her knee joints started hurting a bit after climbing the stairs.

'the bakery is doing well too. the new recipe i tried out with apples seems to be a hit with the people.

'we just miss you a lot. we love you, grandpa. don't you ever forget that.’

you feel for the stem of the second in your hand as you think of a different recipient for it.

'lord barbatos. hello. hope you are doing wonderfully, too. and that you're taking care of yourself as well as you do the people of - and - mondstadt itself. please do convey my message to grandpa. keep looking over everyone as always. especially the ones that are doing their best to protect us.

'and, sorry for the additional wish, but give me strength to take care of my grandma the best i can while also providing for her. thank you for everything.’

with that, eyes still shut, you hold both the dandelions up and blow at the seeds. the sight of them floating away catching and holding your gaze for quite some time as soon as they are opened.

“mr. darknight hero,” you call out after covering enough distance towards the tree for you to be audible to him.

“please do not call me that,” the words from before are repeated as he turns to face you. “i presume you have fulfilled the purpose you have come here with?”

you nod in as an answer, picking up the disdain in his tone again at the former sentence, “then what would you like me to address you as?”

“anything is fine as long as it's not that,” his hands reach up to set the edge of the cape that was slightly twisted. “that name makes me uncomfortable.”

“i thought it was a tad on the extreme side when i first heard of it too,” you chuckle. “glad that you think the same.”

“lead the way,” the masked man says, hands gesturing towards the gate of the city.

the two of you fall into a slightly awkward silence during the walk, neither of you making any attempt to entertain. (the shake of his head in disapproval at the guard stationed at the gate did have a laugh bubble in your chest, but that was it).

wanting it to end, you clear your throat as you utter the first thing in your mind, “what about batman?”

“i’m sorry?” he sounds genuinely confused at the sudden talk.

“batman, as a way to address you, since you don't like the one that seems to be popular,” you can't help the slight curl of your lips as you yourself find the name funny, “what about batman?”

“that seems just as derivative,” he deadpans. “how did that even cross your mind?”

“just your… choice of attire,” giving him a once over, you continue, “reminds me of a bat.”

“i almost prefer the other one,” despite the rejection, you hear a bit of humor in his voice. “that's an achievement in and of itself.”

“i ought to be proud of myself then,” your concentration is back onto your steps as a staircase comes into view. “i can't think of anything else.”

“a friend of mine calls me captain pyro,” his head tilts up slightly, as if reminiscing a bit, “while it's still not something i would like to be addressed as, it's certainly better than its alternative. alternatives now, i guess.”

a soft laugh escapes your lips as you take the final turn towards your destination.

“then i will try to come up with a name that you would not just not mind, but approve of,” you pause your steps in front of a rather cozy looking building. “and this is my stop.”

"i wish you the best of luck," red eyes scan the dwelling behind you, “then i shall take my leave.”

“thank you,” you smile softly, gratefully, at him, head bowing slightly to match the action. “i really appreciate it.”

“that’s not necessary,” his eyes dart back to your form from the construction behind you. “just, do not wander by yourself so late. despite our efforts, the city is not as safe as you believe it to be after evenfall. especially for young ladies such as yourself.”

“okay,” simply agreeing to his words, you shuffle your feet in place, “hope you have a goodnight, mr. not-darknight hero.”

that actually gets a small smile to break out on his face. it's almost unnoticeable. it probably wouldn't even count as a smile on anyone else's face. but because you've seen so little muscles on his face move, that feels noticeable.

“that's almost approved,” he nods, mockingly serious, “good night to you too… apologies, i realize that i never asked for your name.”

“hm,” you hum thoughtfully, feeling slightly cheeky, “how about i tell you my name after i give you one that gets an approval from you?”

“if that is what you would like. until next time then, miss night stoller.”

“you are just as bad at naming as i am.”

©2025 by seineko @ tumblr

[ghostlylicious]

@abdallahs-posts reached out to me to help their campaign . pls share and donate so this family can reach their goal !!🙏

[junkdrawerfics]

Dandelions

Jasper Hale X Reader

Request: If it's not too much to ask, could I request a fic inspired by the song "Dandelions" by Ruth B? Not particular about plot just a lot of fluff if you don't mind. Thank you! @notafraidofstopping876

Word Count: 556

Note: I know this is pretty short, but I felt like it was a cute little scene and I didn't feel right expanding it. So I hope you like it! It was fun to work from a song!

---

“Look! A dandelion!”

Jasper has to hold back a chuckle as you drag him to the edge of the pavement. You stoop down, hand still in his, looking at the little weed in awe. It’s a tiny one, barely grown into the fuzzy little lion it will be, but you’d think it’s a stunningly beautiful flower by how excited you get. Amusement curls in the blond’s chest as he crouches down beside you.

“I love dandelions,” you hum, voice unbearably soft as you lean against him, “I don’t get why people call them weeds. They’re so cute, don’t you think?”

Jasper can’t help but agree, not because he finds the plant to be anything special, but because of you. Your emotions wash over him, a wave of warmth and wonder so intense he could drown in them. You don’t try to hide it either, or care that some students are giving the two of you strange glances. You just look at the little flower, eyes practically glowing with fondness.

You don’t pick the dandelion, though. You just kneel there, chin propped on your knees, humming contently.

“Aren’t you goin’ to make a wish, darlin’?” He asks expectantly.

You shake your head, a kind of knowing smile pulling at your lips, “Nope. I don’t need to.”

You have to bite back a wider grin at the perplexed look that flickers over Jasper’s face. You love when you can surprise the vampire, even in little things like this. He always gives you the same look, brows scrunched, eyes burning with curiosity, head tilting ever so slightly. It makes him look so human, like he hasn’t lived for hundreds of painful years, like he’s just Jasper, the nineteen year old boy who’s trying to figure out what on earth his girlfriend is doing.

“Do you want to know why?” You ask, voice not quite a whisper.

Jasper nods, eyes now narrowed, because of course he does. 

You lean in close, like what you’re about to share is top secret. The blond mirrors you. You take a dramatic pause, eyes sparkling, before finally saying the words you’d been practicing in your head since the moment you laid eyes on the flower.

“I don’t need to make a wish because they already gave me everything I ever wished for.”

It’s like lighting a match. There's a spark of surprise in his eyes before it flickers and warms into something overwhelmingly tender. 

“I wished on hundreds of dandelions for you Jasper Hale,” you finish in a whisper, just for him to hear, “I think it’s someone else’s turn to have their wish come true.”

A genuine smile slants over his lips, soft and lovely and oh, you don’t think your heart can handle it. You feel like you're melting, your pulse fluttering uncontrollably, and you know he can hear it. But Jasper doesn’t tease you like he usually would. He simply lifts your intertwined hands, lips ghosting over your knuckles. 

“You are everythin’ I never even hoped to wish for, darlin’,” Jasper murmurs.

Nevermind that you’re in Forks High parking lot. Nevermind that a dozen people are still watching the two of you with confused expressions. Some loves only come once in a lifetime, and the moment you look into Jasper’s eyes, you know that this is it. 

This is your forever.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

dandelion sun - prelude

din djarin x f!reader

summary: you thought your life was over when your father signed you away to a lumber baron. you wish it was over when he hires a washed up old cowboy to drag you across the country to your betrothed. you know it's over when they start firing at your stagecoach.

aka hired gun bodyguard old west Din Djarin x mayor's daughter reader in an enemies to lovers adventure for @kedsandtubesocks A Wild Ride writing challenge

and YES this is a prelude because I didn't finish the whole thing yet. life said no but I still wanted to post part of it today at least.

words: 367

warnings: none for this part except a passing mention of menstruation. the whole fic will have more, including canon and era-typical violence, gun violence, blood, hurt/comfort, bondage, arranged marriage, p in v, oral, etc. also blanket warning for inaccuracies to the time period because my research was MINIMAL ok sorry. reader is able bodied, menstruates, and wears skirts/dresses. other physical attributes are undescribed. mando can pick you up but he's mando and i believe he can bench press a brick house. no use of y/n.

NOTE: Din's appearance in this fic was inspired by the Space Cowboy art from @pinkiemme. Check out some of the art:

pin-up style

smoking in a tank top 🥵

Marlboro-man style

on horseback

smoking gun (this one makes me so feral fr)

b o l o t i e

belt buckle

boots

long story short I'm OBSESSED with him. you don't have to picture him this way, but pls look at the art, it will change your life.

*title from "where have all the cowboys gone?" by paula cole

dividers by @saradika-graphics

They say Djarin is the most dangerous motherfucker this side of the Mississippi. A bounty hunter whose coal-black heart burned slow and smooth, embers flickering in his soul as if the Devil himself had lit the match.

They say his eyes are yellow like a pit viper. 

They say if you’re close enough to check, the only person you’ll be telling is God Almighty. 

If only they could see him now.

The legend himself is leaning against the hitching post, one foot up against it, arms crossed. The tip of his dark leather hat skews down, casting shadows over his face. A dusty bandana is tied over his nose and mouth. He heaves a heavy sigh, raised boot hitting the dirt with a thump. He stalks back over to the outhouse two paces to his left, and raps his gloved knuckles on the door. 

“You dead or something?” he says with all the social grace you’ve come to expect. And by the way, his eyes are brown. Boring. Just like the man himself. 

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see you. “It’s incredibly rude to bother a lady while she’s freshening up,” you snap.

“I’m not bothering a lady. I’m bothering my pain-in-the-ass cargo. Hurry on up,” he retorts, stalking back to his post with a huff. His stallion nudges his shoulder with a matching huff, equally put out at your delay.

“You have a menses, and see how you like it,” you grumble though he’s out of range. 

You met the man two months prior, when you had come home from Miss Tilly’s with a basket of fresh bread on your elbow. The great oaf, as tall and broad as a wall, had stepped out of your father’s study just as you were headed to the kitchen. 

“Move,” he had barked.

“You move,” you had snapped.

And then the bastard picked you up by the waist, turned, and set you aside like a sack of flour. You sputtered, indignant, until your father emerged to find you furious in an empty corridor. 

If you had known his purpose in your home, you might have run like your head had a price on it.

(to be continued)

[cremeful]

dandelion!reader snuck out with her friend && farmer!dadbf!stack is NOT happy

🌼 @prettyfilmz , @hallucinagin , @woahitslucyylu , @queenofklonnie22 , @cafeluvs , @earthreturn , @bl3ssyn , @michifilmz , @tonichildsdaughterduh , @thebumbqueen , @tojisteddy , @nahimjustfeelingit-writes , @christinabae , @ami-s-k , @pinkkycherrish

[prythianpages]

A Field of Dandelions | Azriel

azriel x green witch reader | Your High Lady calls upon you. requesting a remedy that only you know how to make. It requires specific ingredients found between the courts of spring and autumn and you're in need of an escort. Unfortunately for you, she assigns her Shadowsinger to accompany you. The Shadowsinger who hates you...or so you thought.

“Please don’t talk to me like that.”

“Why?”

“It’s cruel and heartless and you don’t even realize.”

warnings: angst but with fluff at the end, mentions of self-hate/abuse. pretty much Azriel thinking he's not worthy of a mate.

a/n: I've been re-reading the Shatter Me series and there's a scene between Aaron and Juliette that drove me to make this along with the song Dandelions by Ruth B. The dialogue above is directly from the book Unravel Me. I used them as a writing prompt along with the general gist of the scene and added my own twist to it. I just wanted to put that disclaimer out there.

The door opens before you can even knock and your dear friend and High Lady pulls you into a warm hug. She beckons you inside with a smile and your eyes dart around the various paintings adorning the walls, finding that some are new.

Surprise etches onto your features when your eyes land on the Night Court’s Spymaster. He stands at the end of one of the winding staircases with his usual stoic expression. Still as devastatingly handsome as always. You drop your gaze as quickly as you had met his and if he notices it, he doesn’t let it show. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge your presence.

Your ears pick up on faint crying. It grows louder and louder. Turning your head toward the source, your eyes land on Nyx. Despite being in the comfort of his father’s arms, his little features contort in pain. You greet your High Lord with a bow of your head, noticing the exhaustion on his face that mirrors Feyre’s.

“Is Mor on her way?” You ask, adjusting the strap of your bag. It’s full with all necessary tools and equipment you need for your venture.

Feyre had requested if you could make a tonic to sooth Nyx’s aches while he’s teething but your apothecary shop was unfortunately out of the main ingredient. Dandelion root. Not just any dandelion root but the ones that grow in the soil between the courts of Spring and Autumn and given the current tensions in Prythian and your status as a former Spring court inhabitant, it was not safe for you to go alone.

“Oh,” Feyre says as she takes the babe into her arms. You coo at Nyx and he blinks up at you, his crying coming to a stop. His lips tug up into a small smile and he wraps a tiny hand around your finger. “She is unfortunately caught up in Vallahan.”

“So then Cassian is to escort me today?” You ask again, looking up at your friend.

You catch the way she looks at Rhysand. They share a look and you know they’re communicating to each other through their mind. It’s Rhysand who answers you this time.

“Cassian isn’t fond of the spring, allergies and all.”

The Shadowsinger steps forward and your smile falls. You turn back to your friend, who gives you a sheepish smile in return.

“Azriel will be escorting you today.”

You almost want to say no. The thought of being alone with Azriel makes your stomach churn with unease and something else that you can’t quite discern at the moment. But Nyx begins to squirm in his mother’s arms with a pout and Feyre’s eyebrows knit in concern.

“Okay,” you sigh.

“Thank you so much for doing this,” Feyre says.

“Our son’s life is in your hands.”

Feyre slaps her husband’s arm with a roll of her eyes. “He’s not dying, Rhys,” she grumbles. “He’s just in some discomfort from teething.”

She then turns to Azriel with a stern look. The corner of her lips threatened to betray her. “Be nice.”

**

Azriel’s shadows envelop you both, whisking you away to the forest of the Spring Court. It was the safest of the two courts to winnow directly to. The air in the dense woods hangs heavy with the scent of blooming blossoms and you’re thankful for the muffled sounds of nature as it provides a soothing background noise, saving you from the awkward silence between you and the impassive Shadowsinger.

Azriel walks ahead, his movements graceful and quiet. His shadows cling to him like the loyal companions they are but some hover over your boots, silencing your own steps. 

He finally breaks the silence. “You’re staring.”

You shift your gaze immediately and wonder if he can also sense the pink that dusts your slightly flustered face. “I’m just surprised you’re the one escorting me,” you answer honestly.

“It’s not like I had much of a choice,” he responds cryptically.

A slight tension settles between you, your heartbeat quickening as you follow him through the forest. “Right,” you say, your face growing pinker.

You shift the weight of your bag to your other shoulder and Azriel comes to a sudden stop. He turns, his hazel eyes scanning you for a moment. Without a word, he takes the bag from your arm, effortlessly hoisting it over his shoulder. 

The unexpected gesture catches you off guard, and a quiet "thanks" escapes your lips. “You’re being awfully nice today,” you can’t help but observe, a mixture of surprise and curiosity in your tone “I think this is the most you’ve talked to me since we met.”

Azriel’s lips curve into an almost-smile. A rare sight that sends a flutter through your chest. “My High Lady told me to be nice.”

“Right,” you repeat quietly to yourself as you exhale, a futile effort to calm your fluttering nerves. It’s almost embarrassing the effect Azriel has on you and as the butterflies in your stomach stir, you hope that the rest of the day unfolds quickly.

**

Mates. Two individuals predestined to be together, brought together by unseen forces and an irresistible bond. Azriel once wondered if he had a mate but after centuries of living, he began to wonder if he was simply destined to be alone.

When his brothers found their mates and he still hadn’t found his, he started to think he was far beyond the reach of love. It was a blessing he could not have. He didn’t need a mate, so he convinced himself he didn’t want one. Romance was not part of his duties and he was starting to come to terms with the fact. 

That is, until, he met you.

Nestled right on the outskirts of the area known as the Rainbow of Velaris was a quaint shop. The wooden sign above, engraved with dark letters spelling out Nightrose Apothecary, swayed gently in the cool morning breeze. Azriel had ignored the frenzied whirlwind of his shadows as he stepped into the shop.

Shelves made of twisted vines and wood were neatly arranged with rows of glass jars containing colorful powders, dried herbs and exotic roots. A friendly black cat, lounging on the sunlit windowsill, blinked at him in greeting. As he stepped further into the shop, his senses became overwhelmed with the prominent scent of lavender and chamomile.

Behind a worn, wooden counter is where you stood. You hummed to yourself, immersed in the book in front of you. He found himself unable to take his eyes off of you as you skimmed over the rough edged pages, your fingertips carrying an enchanting green glow and eyes filled with darkness. 

You were a witch but it was no surprise to him. He had heard about you. You were a good friend of Feyre’s. One of the few people she could trust during her time in the Spring court. When the Spring Court fell into chaos, Feyre had brought you with her and helped you open up this shop.

His steps were silent and he’s sure you’re unaware of his presence, so he shifted, parting his mouth to speak–

“Hello, Shadowsinger.”

His steps faltered, eyes widening for a fleeting moment.

When you finally lifted your gaze to meet his, his eyes locked with yours and something deep within him awakened. An exhilarating feeling like no other. He felt light. He felt alive. And he was almost afraid to blink, not wanting the feeling to end.

His shadows peeked out from behind his limbs, curious to see what had their master in a chokehold. They dispersed from his body in a thrilled dance as the darkness left your eyes, revealing their natural color. They’re beautiful and sparkling with kindness, even as his shadows disobey his silent orders and slither up your arms in a cool greeting.

“I’m sorry,” he found himself apologizing, a slight tint in his cheeks. “They usually don’t do that.”

“It’s okay,” you brushed off his worry and he felt lightheaded and bewitched at the smile you directed toward him. “What brings you here?”

Azriel can’t help but feel that you already know why he’s there. He pulled his gaze away, choosing to focus on the crystal orbs on the counter instead. “My High Lady recommended I come to you. I’ve been having trouble…sleeping.”

The green glow returned to your fingertips as you beckoned a small clear vial from one of the shelves behind you. It’s filled with a silver liquid that glistened as it moved, mirroring the twinkle of the stars that light up the night sky.

“This should help.” You told him as you held out the vial to him. “Take a sip before you’re ready for bed and it should quickly pull you into a restful slumber. Some say it even brings forth sweet dreams.”

Azriel nodded his head, taking the small vial from you with a gloved hand. He stored it carefully into the chest pocket of his leathers. His hands then dug into the pockets of his pants but you held out a hand to stop him.

“It’s on the house.”

“But–”

“Any friend of Fey–the High Lady’s is a friend of mine.”

His throat tightened as he realized it’s time for him to leave and he doesn’t want to. He’s caught in a whirlwind of emotions and finds himself torn between hope and fear. Or maybe he fears what it means to be hopeful because for once in his life, he wants something.

He wants you. His mate.

But as he thanked you for your kind gesture, he realized that the bond must have not snapped for you as it had for him. So he reluctantly went on with his day and when the sky darkened and stars awakened, he took a sip from the small vial. He had the best sleep of his life that night and dreamt about you.

The next morning he asked Rhysand and Feyre about what he had experienced because he couldn’t believe it himself. They confirmed his suspicions and they were both delighted. Feyre even more so as you were her dear friend.  

She had taken it upon herself to bring you two together. Her first attempt was a family dinner. It was going well until Elain had spotted a spider and upon the small scream she let out, Nesta had rushed to kill it for her. Your distress was impossible to turn a blind eye to and Feyre quietly asked if you were alright.

“It didn’t need to die,” is all you quietly said, your eyes lined with silver.

Witches were one with nature and given your niche with herbs and creation, Azriel realized the depth of your admiration for all life that night. Then, another harrowing one. You were so innocent, so pure. He was guilty, hands tainted and stained red. He didn’t deserve you.

The Cauldron must’ve made a mistake.

Feyre was undeterred so she gave it another attempt, despite Azriel’s protest. She arranged a night out at Rita’s for the Inner Circle and invited you. Azriel didn’t plan on going but Rhysand had made sure his schedule was clear and when Feyre had sent him an image of you in a skin tight dress, he came as quickly as he could. 

But it was too late.

He arrived to find a high fae leaning toward you in interest and you were smiling at him. A smile Azriel wanted reserved just for him. The male had placed a hand at your waist and Azriel felt his stomach churn when you laughed at something he had said. A sound he wished to be the cause of. You seemed happy and who was he to stand in your way?

The male was everything Azriel was not. Blond, blue eyed and perfectly smooth hands–hands that were all over you and welcomed by you. He unconsciously hid his scarred hands behind his back and when your gaze met his across the room, he looked away. 

Azriel was not worthy of you. He didn’t deserve to have you as his mate. So he reminded himself that romance was not part of his duties and convinced himself that the Cauldron, had indeed, made a mistake. 

He couldn’t bear the thought of being just a friend to you. The mere idea pained him so much that he pushed you away. He didn’t return to your apothecary when he finished the vial you’d given him–not even when his nights became restless again and dark circles appeared beneath his eyes. When he’d see you walking along the streets of Velaris, he’d turn the other away and when you would visit Feyre and he was there, he’d find an excuse to leave.

But there was one thing he couldn’t shake off–the primal instinct to protect you. It was the least he could do for you as he felt indebted to you for the Cauldron’s mistake. 

So when he heard you needed an escort to the border between the Spring and Autumn courts, he was the first to volunteer, despite Mor and Cassian also offering.

**

It’s as if the ground beneath you comes to life in your presence. Birds fly over you, chirping and singing a beautiful melody. As you pass, buds blossom into beautiful flowers as if enchanted by you. Even the animals emerge from their hidden abodes. The squirrels playfully dart between branches while a family of deer gracefully emerges from the trees.

It becomes evident that nature itself is captivated by your presence. and it extends beyond nature, weaving its magic onto Azriel as well. It reaches into the very heart of the Shadowsinger, casting an enchanting spell that even he cannot escape.

A blue butterfly dances playfully around Azriel. It startles him, pulling him out of his trance and you can’t help the small laugh that escapes from you. You raise a finger and the butterfly lands on it softly.

“Hello, little one,” you coo softly. You turn to Azriel, holding out your finger to him. “Would you like to hold it?”

“No.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you scared of a butterfly?”

Azriel does not answer your question. Instead, his eyes dart around the forest that still stirs with liveliness around you. “What happened to keeping a low profile?”

“Sorry,” you apologize, even though it’s not your fault. The butterfly grants you one last flutter of its wings before flying away. “I can’t help but be admired by many.”

Azriel lets out a hum. You’re too distracted to pick up on the subtle resonance of agreement, your eyes widening as the meadow finally comes into view in the distance.

**

You inhale deeply, flooding your senses with the sweet and delicate fragrance surrounding you. Time seems to slow and your worries dissipate away as you kneel down, gently touching the soft sea of green, white and yellow. The gentle sway of the dandelions is mesmerizing almost, their feathery plumes catching the morning breeze like wishes aching to be set free.

Azriel watches you and his eyes are a reflection of an adoration deeper than any meadow bloom. There’s a bittersweet ache in his chest. You close your eyes, a serene expression on your face. Strands of sunlight weave through your hair, creating a halo of warmth and Azriel finds it hard to breathe when your lips bloom into a tender smile.

Your eyes open and meet his hazel eyes and suddenly, he’s looking away. He clears his throat, eyes looking around the field. “What’s so special about this place?” He asks, a desperate attempt to reclaim the distance between desire and reality.

“All life is a delicate balance of give and take. Spring brings forth new life and beauty, new beginnings. Autumn leaves showers of gold, recognizing the temporary nature of all things. “ You answer as if it's common knowledge and upon the bewildered expression on Azriel’s face, you offer the simpler explanation:  “The soil between Spring and Autumn is very potent.” 

“These are weeds. They’ll grow anywhere.” Azriel deadpans. He regrets it immediately at the slight frown that forms at his casual dismissal.

“You may see a weed,” you begin, plucking a single dandelion from the ground as you rise to your feet. You approach the Shadowsinger. “But I see wishes.”

You extend the dandelion to him with a softness in your eyes that he’s never been on the receiving end of. “They say a single dandelion possesses the power to grant one-hundred wishes. But their beauty lies in their resilience because when they fall apart, they simply start again. A reminder to us all of boundless hope.”

Azriel hesitates, his gaze fixed on the dandelion. His gloved fingers brush against yours and for a fleeting moment, he wonders what your skin would feel like against his. The mere thought dares to send a shiver through him but he swiftly pushes the thought away.

You smile at him as he carefully accepts the stem from you. His shadows remain dispersed around the field but from where he stands, he can feel them vibrating joyfully. Your smile is so bright, so dazzling and for the first time since he met you, it’s all for him.

A sudden warmth floods through him, a sensation he never anticipated, and he finds himself utterly captivated.

“Make a wish,” you whisper to him, your voice a gentle prompt that lingers in the air like a spell waiting to be cast.

Azriel is not one to believe in things like this but he finds himself surrendering to the magic of the moment. For you.

Under the tender gaze of a field of dandelions, he closes his eyes. He lets out a silent breath, and makes a wish. A breeze courses through you both in that moment. The dandelion’s wispy seeds take flight, unraveling into a fine constellation of possibilities. 

The soft bristles of hope travel through the air and find their way to you and a laugh escapes from you in response to the tickling sensation as they caress your face.

Azriel’s heart feels strangely gentle–as if the weight that often accompanies his existence has momentarily dissipated. His entire body seems to soften in the glow of your laughter and a rare smile forms on his face.

He’s stuck in a trance, mesmerized by you, failing to catch the sounds of the creatures approaching.

Before he knows it, there are arrows whistling around you both. He barely has enough time to respond as one hisses by his ear and darts to you. He immediately raises his hand up, his shadows rushing to the rescue and forming a protective shield around you both.

**

Your eyes are wide as you stare at the tip of an arrow that is a couple of inches away from you. It’s coated with blood. Azriel’s blood.

Your breath hitches at the sight. There's an arrow embedded into his gloved hand and if it weren’t for Azriel’s other hand at the small of your back, you would’ve fallen backwards.

“Are you alright?” His gaze is examining you carefully, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

You blink at his words. “Are you alright?”

“Well, well, well.” A voice drawls followed by deep, rumbling growls from the hounds that surround you. They’re kept at bay by Azriel’s shadows. “What do we have here?”

Azriel turns around, ready to face the threat head on. His shadows remain at your side protectively. Some slither up and down your arms, their touch aimed at offering comfort and reassurance. 

“Eris.”

The red head smirks and his teeth flash when he catches the sight of the Shadowsinger’s injured and bleeding hand. “My apologies,” Eris sneers. “If I had known it was you, I would’ve aimed for the heart.”

A sound escapes from you–one you didn’t know you were capable of making and you step out from the shadows. It draws Eris’s attention to you. His amber eyes drink you in and you feel Azriel stiffen beside you. The Autumn’s male’s eyes land on the obsidian necklace around your neck and they narrow.

“What is a witch doing in my lands?” His hounds that are still surrounding let out another growl, prompted by their master’s tone of voice. They snap their teeth menacingly.

But you’re unfazed.

Perhaps, it’s Azriel’s protective shadows or the overwhelming anger set alight by Eris’s words that grant you the confidence and push you forward. Your eyes fill with darkness, resembling a night sky without any stars and Azriel can feel the energy coursing through your veins as you call upon your magic.

“Keep wasting the air with that breath of yours and I might just cur–”

A hand comes over your mouth, stopping you from saying anything else and you’re being pulled flush into Azriel’s chest. You grimace at the taste of leather and squirm only for Azriel’s arms to tighten around you.

“Cute,” Eris remarks with a hint of amusement but there’s an unmistakable fear that flashes in his eyes for a short lived moment.

 “We’re just passing through,” Azriel states, his voice void of emotion. 

Eris observes you both in contemplative silence. He must discern something in Azriel that prompts him to stand down. With a thoughtful hum, he gracefully turns away. His hounds follow suit and as he walks away, he calls over his shoulders: “Make it quick.”

You watch as Eris disappears into the forest, still wrapped tightly in Azriel’s arms. It isn’t until Eris is completely out of view that you squirm again and without thinking, you bite on his gloved hand. Hard. Azriel flinches and finally releases his grip on you.

You turn to him with a glare that he returns.

“Threatening to curse the heir to Autumn? Are you out of your mind?”

“I should curse you for stopping me!” You exclaim, crossing your arms with a scowl. Your gaze then softens as you quietly add:  “He hurt you.”

“Gods,” Azriel breathes, stepping away from you and tilting his head backwards. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“You mean besides piss you off by merely existing?” You huff as you snatch your bag away from him to get the jars you brought. “Can’t imagine it gets any worse than that.”

**

The walk to your apartment is silent and you begin to wonder if you should apologize for your outburst earlier. It was not within your nature to raise your voice at anyone…or harbor anger toward someone. But Eris had tried to hurt you, hurt Azriel and then shamelessly sneered about it.

Azriel follows you into your home, watching as you set the ingredients you collected down. He expects you to bid him farewell and kick him out but as you turn to him and your gaze falls to his injured hand, you sigh.

“Come on,” you offer, reaching out for his hand and he recoils. You frown.  “Does it hurt?”

“No.” 

You know he’s lying by the way his jaw clenches and you can’t help but notice that he appears to be repelled by your touch. You almost laugh. “I promise I won’t curse you. I actually never cursed anyone before.”

Azriel’s expression remains unreadable.

“Just let me see. I can help you.”

“I’m fine.” He says through gritted teeth.

“You’re bleeding all over my floor.” You say in hopes to get him to accept your help and when it doesn’t, you cross your arms against your chest. “Do you really hate me that much? To be repulsed by my touch?”

“I don’t hate you.” Azriel confesses and his voice is much quieter, much softer when he speaks again. “I could never.”

Azriel holds your gaze in contemplation for a long moment. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see his shadows pushing him toward you so you try again. This time, when you step forward, your hand reaching for him, he doesn’t pull away. 

 “Sit,” you tell him, nodding your head at one of the chairs in your kitchen. 

With a hard swallow, he does. He is entirely still as you hold his gloved hand in yours. Even his shadows are eerily still as if holding their breath. His eyes are boring into you with an intensity that heats your skin. You bring your other hand up, a soft green glow emitting from your fingertips. With the help of your magic, you carefully take the arrow out, drawing a sharp gasp from him. 

“Sorry,” you say, turning your attention to his glove next. You use your magic to remove it as well, not wanting to cause him any more pain or discomfort.

As the green mist of your magic dissipates, revealing the scarred skin beneath, your eyes widen. The scars are extensive, streaking around his fingers and the palm of his hand and the bleeding gash in the middle is nothing compared to them. You lift your gaze to meet his only to find his eyes are dead of emotion.

“Azriel.” You breathe and it’s the first time you’ve ever addressed him by his name and it sounds so pretty, so beautiful but the way you’re looking at him…

“Don’t.” His throat feels tight and he starts to withdraw his hand from yours but you stop him. You want to know who hurt him this deeply. Today was a day of firsts for you–first smile from Azriel, first time you ever felt so angry, first time you growled at someone and you were more than willing to add another first to that list. Cursing someone.

But Azriel looks like he’s about to break so you push your rage aside. Realization dawns on you as you now understand why he’s always wearing gloves around you, why he avoided you at all costs before. Your heart aches.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” you say softly as you begin to heal his hand. “Your scars may forever carry their stories with them but they do not define you. Your heart does and I can see it now. It’s bright and beautiful. You’re beautiful and–”

“y/n,” he almost begs. “Please don’t talk to me like that.”

The gash on his palm is now completely healed and you tighten your hold on it. “Why?”

“It’s cruel and heartless and you don’t even realize.” His voice drops to a pained whisper and his eyes are fluttering shut, body trembling. Shadows cling on to him, embracing him in an attempt to comfort their master. You’ve never beheld anything more heartbreaking.

“Do you think that lowly of me?” You begin, your voice quiet. “That I would be put off by your scars?”

When he doesn’t answer, your free hand reaches for his face, lifting his chin up. But his eyes are still closed and deep lines form on his forehead because your skin is so soft, so warm and he’s not worthy.

“Azriel,” you steady your breath. “You’re my mate.”

His eyes shoot open, hazel orbs glistening with tears as he looks up at you. “You know?”

“I’ve known since the moment I met you.” You confess with a pained smile. “I wanted to tell you right away but I didn’t want to scare you and when I was ready to tell you, you were avoiding me. I thought you hated me because, well, I’m a witch and not everyone is fond of them.”

“But that night at Rita’s–”

“My stupid attempt at making you jealous,” you explain to him sheepishly. “I thought it would prompt you to talk to me but it backfired immensely.”

Silence falls over you two. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “For what?”

“For being your mate.” Azriel responds. “I don’t deserve you. My hands are not only scarred but stained red. I’ve tortured many. I’ve killed many. You value life but I take it.”

“I value innocent life. It’s my duty to protect nature–to protect those that cannot speak for themselves.” You clarify. “I understand that it’s your duty to protect this court. I don’t see you any different for it.”

The hand at his face drops and you use it to remove the glove from his other hand. Your hands grasp onto his larger ones and you lace your fingers with his, embracing the thickened and roughened skin. Azriel’s breath hitches.

 “This can’t be real,” he murmurs to himself, dropping his gaze. “In that field of dandelions, I wished upon every one of them. For you.”

“Magic doesn’t work that way,” you tell him with a smile as an overwhelming rush of tenderness comes over you. “It cannot create or destroy love. It can only heighten what is already there.”

Azriel’s expression softens and he looks back up at you. Half terrified. Half hopeful. “So this is real?”

You decide to show him instead by leaning down and kissing him. 

Azriel’s body relaxes and then he’s using his hands to tug you forward and onto his lap. He kisses you back. Deeply and desperately. He places his hands on your face, your neck and then they’re at your waist, slipping under your shirt. He wants to feel your skin, all of you and you welcome it, arching into him because his touch feels so good.

It stirs a light of desire in you–a desire so bright that it rivals the sun and blossoms flowers of its own. A desire to love and be loved. 

“What else did you wish for?” You gasp out when you both pull away for air. His hands are right under the curve of your chest and he leans his forehead against yours.

His breath is heavy but he smiles at you and you engrave the image into your mind because you’ve never seen anything so beautiful. You’re inclined to ask Feyre to paint it for you later.

“My only wish was for you to be mine.” He confesses, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“Done.”

And then he’s kissing you again.

Azriel has heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime–he’s seen it come to his brothers. He never thought it would come to him but he’s pretty sure that you are that love of his and he was a fool to push it away. He knows this now because when he gazes into your eyes, he can see forever in them.

here's an alternate scene, where y/n is the one who says "please don't talk to me like that" instead of az: read here

here's a scene if you're curious about feyre's reaction: read here

if you're interested in reading more about this au you can find the masterlist for this series here

[sailorsenshishitposter]

Piccolo x Reader

This is for OG Piccolo. The Nail+Kami fusion version will come later

Piccolo

- A.K.A.

-Ma Junior

Piccolo Jr.

Big Green

You have a soft spot for bad guys that are actually softies and your favorite arc of pre Z Dragon Ball was the 23rd Budokai Tenkaichi tournament.

First Date

You loved living in the country side. Everything was great! It was beautiful and no one could bother you. You even started growing your own vegetables. It was fine for a while until you noticed that something was off about your garden.

"I know we haven't had much rain lately but I could have sworn I watered you guys yesterday?"

Lately your flowers were withering. At first you thought there might have been a stray animal. The mountains were home to many creatures (dinosaurs and tigers included), and you could have sworn that you saw something off in the distance from your bedroom window every night. But when you would go outside to look you could never find anything. Nothing was eating your crops either.

"I'm starting to think this place is haunted..."

You decided that tonight you would set up a trap. You knew that food didn't work.

"What about water!?"

You grabbed a large pot out of your cupboard and filled it to the brim. You then tried your best not splash or drop any liquid as you took it outside. You decided to be extra fancy and have a trail of rose petals lead the way.

"You better be ready asshole!"

You then hid behind your shed and held onto the lid. You waited for any kind of sound to alert you that someone was there. You were just about to give up when your heard a strange noise.

"I'VE GOT YOU NOW!"

You didn't even get a chance to look at the culprit as you were too busy securing the lid.

"I can't be stuck in a jar again!"

"What the hell!?"

You slowly opened the tip and couldn't believe what was in front of you. Some kind of green monster had a straw and was gulping down your water like he was some kind of nasty dandelion.

"GROSS! I HATE SLUGS!"

"I'm not a slug, I'm a demon!"

Just then God's voice could be heard laughing.

"SHUT UP OLD TIMER!"

"Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on!?"

The demon grunted and folded his arms.

"I am Piccolo, son of the late Demon King. You might have seen me on what you earthlings call television-"

"I don't have TV."

"What?"

"Do you really think that I get good reception all the way out here?"

Piccolo put his palm over his face.

"Alright then. So I was created when my father decided to reincarnate-"

"I thought you said you were his son?"

"Would you let me finish! As I was saying, I was born when he spat me out of his throat-"

"WOAH, WOAH, WOAH, SLOW DOWN!"

A very frustrated Piccolo demanded to know what your issue was now.

"That is how my kind produces offspring. Are you telling me that humans don't lay eggs?"

"Okay so when a man loves a woman, he-"

You then gave the demon a speech on the birds and the bees. By the end, his cheeks were a bright shade of fuschia.

"And done. There's also more to sex than just making babies. For instance-"

"Enough! I do not wish to hear anymore about your disgusting mating habits! Now, if I may finish where I left off! All of this was due to his defeat at the hands of Son Goku-"

"I know who that is!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! He's the guy that we all have a holiday for. May 7th I think!"

Piccolo then threw his turban on the ground and stomped on it.

"IT ISN'T FAIR! IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MY DAY!"

"Are you alright?"

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

He then flew off into the sky.

"Where are you going!?"

"TO GO SULK AND POSE DRAMATICALLY!"

'What ever. As long as that guy leaves my plants alone than I could care less!'

--------

Three weeks later.

You were chopping up meat when your door burst open. 'Not again!'

It was your unwanted alien visitor.He stared and you weren't sure what he wanted until you head a small "Hello."

"DID YOU KIDNAP THIS CHILD!?"

"I just need you to babysit the brat for a few hours."

He then flipped his cape.

"Later Gohan."

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING!?"

You wouldn't find out until later but Piccolo had gone to find a purple dragon for Gohan.

"Icarus? I'm sure he'll love you. It will make the boy even stronger when the time comes for him to consume your flesh for nourishment."

--------

"I miss my daddy..."

"Do you know where he is little guy?"

"Six feet underground."

"Oh..-"

"But don't worry. We can bring him back with the dragon balls!"

You were now calling the police and child services. And maybe a therapist.

"Why don't we do something fun while we wait?"

"I would like to read if you don't mind."

"Aww, that's so cute. I don't have many kids books but I'm sure I can find someth-"

"It's okay, I have mine with me."

This four year old then proceeded to pull out a copy of encyclopedia for insects from who knows where.

"Wouldn't you rather read something like the hungry catapillar?"

"Don't patronize me."'Alright then...'

[qrrieterisunnq]

Back In Vancouver - Nico Hischier

the swiss love charm au || taglist ➜ fill the form if you’d like to be tagged!!

NICO!HISCHIER X AINSLEY!HUGHES — WARNINGS: nothing, just sweet pure content, just mentions of Nico — SUMMARY: Back home, Ainsley is slowly admitting the feelings she has towards Nico, even though she is afraid. - WORD COUNT: 1,5K - AUTHOR'S NOTE: HAPPY 1ST ANNIVERSARY OF THE SWISS LOVE CHARM AU!! So if you have any questions or ideas, don't hesitate to send them to me! PART OF THE SWISS LOVE CHARM AU

“I’m home!” Ainsley calls out when she pushes the door to their apartment open and walks in. “Freya?” she calls out when she doesn’t hear her daughter’s giggles. “Quinn!?” Nothing. Suspiciously, she walks into the living room, looking into every corner to ensure neither Freya nor Quinn is jumping on her.

“Where the hell are they?” she whispers to herself as she walks into the kitchen. She sighs when she notices the still-warm food on the stove. She looks under the lid, grinning when she sees risotto. Furthermore, she leaves for her bedroom with a satisfied hum, ready to change into her home clothes.

Shutting the door behind her, she pulls out her phone and turns on her songs so she can change.

“Oh, my gosh!” she yells when she spots Quinn’s head poking from under the bed, same with Freya’s. Ainsley’s hands fly up to her heart, trying to catch her breath and slow her heartbeat.

Freya’s laugh rings through the room as she and Quinn shuffle from under the bed, laughing their asses off. She stares at them in pure disbelief. “What the hell, guys?”

“Got you, mama!” Freya laughs, jumping around her legs.

“Good one, Fre!” Quinn laughs, reaching his hand out for her to high-five him. He then looks back at you, bursting into another set of laughs when he sees her expression. “You good?”

“No,” she shakes her head, chuckling. “I think my heart will jump out of me.” This makes Freya laugh even more.“You are silly, mommy.” Freya shakes her head at her mom. “Your heart can’t leave your body.” With that, she jumps on Ainsley’s bed.

“You siwwy, Mommy!” Freya shakes her head at her mom. She jumps on her bed, bouncing on it. “Dat’s ’possbull!”

“Oh, really, smarty-pants?” Ainsley asks and swiftly moves towards her, tickling her. Loud shrieks and laugh sounds fill the room as Ainsley and Quinn are now attacking Freya with kisses and tickling.

“Stwap! Pwease!” she yells between laughs, kicking her legs and swinging her hands, trying to brace herself from the ticklish attack.

“Okay, okay,” Quinn and Ainsley say in unison, making Freya giggle at them. “I’ve missed you, baby,” Ainsley whispers in Freya’s tummy.

“I, too, mommy.”

“What about me?” Quinn asks.

“I’ve missed you too! Quinnifer.” She grins at him, kicking him in his shin.

“Auch,” he places his hand on his chest, offended. “Excuse me.”

Ainsley just grins before giving her attention back to Freya. “What do you say about a mother-daughter and auntie Amber date?”

“So cool!” she shouts in excitement.

“And what about me?” Quinn pouts.

“You stay here, unco,” Freya says, pointing her little finger at the bed.

“Well, you can go out with the boys,” Ainsley suggests.

“Yeah, I guess, a beer or two won’t kill me.”

The bell rings when Ainsley, Freya, and Amber enter the café. The eyes of customers move to the sound, landing on the three women entering. The lady behind the counter smiles at them as she wipes it clean.

Ainsley smiles back, nodding a polite greeting as she leads Freya and Amber to a cozy booth in the corner. The café is quiet this afternoon, the soft hum of conversation blending with the background music. Ainsley slides into the booth first, her daughter quickly following her, while Amber sits across from them.

Freya's eyes widen as she scans the menu on the wall. “Mommy, hot chokit!” she exclaims, bouncing in her seat.

Ainsley chuckles. “Of course, sweetheart. And what else do you want?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

“Cake!” Freya giggles, her hands waving excitedly.

Amber grins, teasing. “Well, looks like someone’s going to have a sugar rush.”

“Not if you don’t tell her she can have anything more,” Ainsley teases back. Amber shrugs, raising an eyebrow in mock innocence.

“You’re the mom,” Amber replies with a smile. “You’re the one who has to deal with it later.”

Ainsley laughs, shaking her head. “I guess so. But I can’t say no to that face.”

Freya gives her a wide-eyed look of pure innocence, and Ainsley nods, her heart softening. “Alright, alright. One hot chocolate and a cake for the little one. But I’m getting coffee,” Ainsley says, her voice trailing off as she looks at Amber, who’s already holding the menu to decide on her order.

“So,” Amber starts, setting the menu down after a moment of thought, “How’s everything going? How’s Nico?”

Ainsley’s smile grows a bit at the mention of Nico’s name. She sits more comfortably and reaches for her bag to pull out some of Freya’s toys. “Things have been great. The date was awesome. It was adorable knowing that Nico thought about Freya.” She smiles at Amber, playing with her toys as she speaks.

“He was the first, right?” she asks, her attention on Freya playing with her toys.

“The fi-” Ainsley asks in confusion, but quickly gets it. “Yeah, he was. He was so kind to her, Amber.”

“I could tell from what this little rebel told me,” Amber smirks, bumping Freya’s nose. “Right? You like Nico?”

“Gwizzly?” She looks around as if she is searching for him. Ainsley watches her, her heart melting while her chest tightened at the same time. She is glad her daughter liked him, because, let’s be honest, she does too, but doesn't want to admit it. But a big part of her is afraid that he might break their hearts if this ‘something’ between them doesn't work out.

“No, baby, he’s not here,” she chuckles, smoothing her wild hair. “Untie Amber was asking if you had fun in the gallery with him.” She brings her on her lap when she notices the waiter reaching them to take their order.

“Hello ladies, what can I get for you?” She looks between Amber and Ainsley. With a nod towards Amber, Ainsley started.

“Hi. I’d like to have one hot chocolate, blueberry chocolate cake, if you have,” she looks up in question.

“Yes, we have this one. Do you want extra whipped cream?”

“Rather not,” she chuckles, bouncing the knee where Freya sits, earning a giggle from her. “And one chai latte.”

“Okay, what about you, ma’am?” the waiter then shifts her attention to Amber.

“I’d like frappé and carrot cake, please.”

“I’ll be right back, ladies.”

“Thank you,” Amber smiles before her attention shifts back to Ainsley. “Will you give him a chance?” Ainsley looks down at Freya, who is now playing with her bunny.

She breathes out, looking up at Amber. She really is not sure if she should, but Nico proved that he is different from the others. 

“Yeah, I guess I will,” she breathes out, looking back into Amber’s eyes. “I mean it’s time to open up finally.”

“I am so proud of you, Ziggy.”

“Thank you.”

An hour later, Amber must leave, so Ainsley decided to take Freya to a playground near their apartment to tire Freya off. It has been a while since they came here, even though it is a ten-minute walk away.

“Higher, mommy!” Freya yells as she holds tightly to the ropes of the swing.

“Not so high, baby,” she chuckles, but still pushes her lightly. “Don’t want you to fall down.”

Freya screeches from excitement, kicking her legs as she swings.

“Baby, can I ask you something?”

Freya nods her head, still giggling as she helps with her legs to swing higher. Ainsley chuckles at her, feeling happy for the little girl being this excited to be on a swing.

It will probably sound weird, but she doesn’t want Freya to be like these iPad kids. She wants her to enjoy being outside, playing on the beach and park like she did when she was younger.

“Do you like Nico?” Her eyes remain on her, watching if her expression changes somehow at the mention of his name.

“Gwizzly funny. I yike him!” she giggles, when Ainsley pushes her legs lightly to make her swing higher. “You yike him?” she asks back, looking at her mom with her big blue eyes.

The question takes Ainsley back for a second. She never realizes that her daughter might understand what is going on. “Yeah, mommy likes Nico.”

“There you two are!” Quinn’s voice sounds from behind them about half an hour later.

Ainsley jerks her head in Quinn’s direction, smiling when she sees his figure. “Hi.” She tilts her head to the side, waiting for Quinn to kiss her cheek.

“How was the date?” he asks next to her on the bench. His gaze moves to where Freya is playing with her bunny, completely ignoring the world around her.

“It was great. Freya was a sweetheart, and I got to talk about some things with Amber, which helped a lot.” she smiles, resting her head against his shoulder.

Quinn just hums in response, wrapping his hand around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head. He is happy for his twin sister. She hasn’t been this happy in a long time, and seeing her glow and laugh like this for the past few months makes him happy. Even though he doesn’t want to admit it, he knows the reason for her happiness is Nico.

[literatureatthebowofnails]

A/N: Looking forward to your feedback

Series masterlist

Pairing: Loki x reader

Summary: Your first trip to Asgard

Warnings: Vomiting, fluff, angst

You land on Asgard, clutching Loki's arm in a death grip. Your nails dig into the black leather of his jacket, knuckles white as you fight to keep down your breakfast.

At Loki's other side, Steve Rogers grasps Thor's shoulder to steady himself. Beside you, Director Fury stands almost entirely still, the only sign of movement a slight flapping of his coat.

"Welcome to..."

"I'm going to be sick," you cut off the gatekeeper, releasing Loki and running to spill the churning contents of your stomach off the bridge.

You look up and see a grand procession approaching from further down, their guilded armor bright in the morning sun. Leading the group are four warriors: a stunning dark-haired woman, a blonde with a charming grin, a stout soldier sporting wild facial hair, and an overly serious crusader.

You wipe your mouth, feeling better but still unsteady on your feet as you return to the circular chamber. "Sorry," you mutter.

"Don't worry about it," Steve says. "I was a mess on my first visit."

"Um, thanks." You don't really believe him.

"I am Heimdall," the golden god continues, unfazed by your interlude. "Gatekeeper of Asgard, protector of the Bifrost, and seer of all things."

At this point, the entourage arrives. "May I present Lady Sif, the Warriors Three and the Einherjar," Thor makes your introductions, noting that Rogers and Fury are already acquainted with the leaders.

Three horses are presented for your journey to the palace. You perch nervously at the front of your saddle, grasping the horn for dear life. Loki swings up gracefully behind you and reaches around to control the reigns.

"It's alright, darling," he coos, wrapping an arm snuggly about your middle. "Nótt is steady and true. He will deliver us safely, I guarantee it."

You take a breath, trying not to shudder or look beyond the bridge. "It's my first time."

"And you're doing splendidly," he hugs you closer and you begin to relax as you watch Steve cling to Thor's waist.

Fury kicks his steed to a trot, joining Hogun at the head of the group.

☕

The five of you gather in an antechamber, preened and swathed in Asgardian finery. Rogers and Fury are called first, leaving to greet the court. After some time, you and Loki are announced.

He takes your hand, placing it around his arm before entering the grand golden hall. You walk side by side down the long aisle to the throne. Loki's steps are assured, his pace steady, honed jaw set in determination. The crowd claps respectfully, their observance subdued, even hesitant.

You reach the stairs below the throne and bend in a nervous curtsy. The prince gives his father a minimal bow; enough to show the necessary respect, but not a hair more.

"My son," Odin addresses Loki. You watch as his lip gives a slight twitch of irritation. "Welcome home."

"Father," comes the strained reply.

He then turns to the stately woman on your left. "Mother," he greets with a warm smile.

The queen comes to bestow a kiss on each of her son's cheeks. "It's so good to have your home." She turns to beam at you. "And you must be the gracious lady my sons speak so highly of!"

Loki provides your name and you exchange pleasantries with his parents before standing beside the queen, opposite Steve and Fury.

"Thor Odinson!" the herald bellows, followed by a roar of cheers and clapping from the crowd. The crown prince swings his hammer around, eliciting further excitement. You give Loki's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Father! Mother," Thor greets as he approaches, kneeling before the throne. "It has been too long."

"Too long indeed," Odin beams with pride for his first born. "I fear that if it were not for these mandatory check-ins, I we would never see you."

"I was here only a month ago," Thor's brows draw together in confusion before he brightens like a lightbulb. "Loki and I will make a point to visit more often." The dark-haired bother exhales a measured breath beside you. You doubt he plans to follow though with that promise.

☕

While the king reviews his youngest's contributions to Earth's safety, Queen Frigga invites you to tea.

Guiding you along a winding garden path, the matriarch asks how you and Loki are settling into your new space. She listens with interest to the explanation of your minimalist design preferences and methods taken to assimilate his more extravagant leanings.

Eventually you reach a grand birch tree. Beneath it sits a table set for two. A tiered tray boasts bite size sandwiches, petits fours, fruit, and madeleines. Small jars of curd, cream, jam, and honey surrounded it, with a heaping plate of scones and large pot of tea to complete the spread.

"I'm impressed to hear how well you collaborate with my youngest," Frigga comments as she pours your tea. "He's not always the most amiable, but he's unfeigned when it comes to you."

You smile, adding cream to cool your steaming china cup. "I think people rely too much on first impressions. Though impulsively acting superior when he feels insecure doesn't exactly help matters."

The queen nearly spills her tea, covering a smile. "That's quite an astute observation."

As your meal comes to a close, Loki appears. "I take it you're becoming better aquainted?"

"We are indeed," Frigga confirms. "I'm so glad you've finally introduced us."

"Mother," Loki smiles, "you know you're always welcome to visit Midgard."

"Maybe we should make a formal invitation?" you suggest.

Your trio walks slowly back to the palace, discussing potential opportunities for the king and queen to visit New York. A pattern forms with Loki suggesting inconsequential dates, and Frigga being forced to "remind" him they're during occasions that require the Alfather's presence onworld.

Tags in comments because I got trigger-happy posting this one 😆

Before you part ways, Loki stops a passing servant and requests they show you to his chambers, noting he requires a moment alone with his mother. You say your goodbyes to the queen until supper and her son assures he'll join you imminently.

Next Chapter

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