sunnysanae

[sunnysanae]

undue (pt. v) Aventurine x reader

Explanations really do us no justice.

pt.iv recap: It's the familiarity that creates distance, especially in the dark, especially beside him. Series synopsis Series masterlist

notes: modern!au, uni student!aventurine & corporate!reader, f!reader (she/her pronouns), found family trope, guardian-like reader, age gap (19aventurine-24reader, flashback no romance: 11aventurine-16reader), set in imagined london.

It was another day in your life, with yet another reason affirming your choice for a walk-in wardrobe. The frosted glass wardrobe door set the perfect amount of distance between yourself and Aventurine. 

It’s 7:20 now, and your coffee was already ordered and ready for pick-up downstairs.

“When do you have to get to school by?” You asked as you carefully pulled out your watch drawer. Today, you need a low-key watch, you can’t outshine your client, and all your bracelets don’t seem as formal. You look through all your watches, and you pick one with a white-gold case and a shiny mint green dial. It was almost as if even your watches welcome his presence. 

“You sound like a parent.” He mumbles in response.

He groans and you hear him flip around in the bed. 

“Is it Friday yet?” He whines into the pillow. 

You look down at the “10” on the dial of your watch, and smile as you say back, “Yeah, it is.”

“I have a 9 a.m. today.”

“Want me to drop you off at your dorm? You can grab your things and move in for the weekend.” You knew that he had his reasons for not wanting to stay in the residence. Like always, you don’t need an explanation from him to comply. 

His voice brightens up, “Don’t worry about me, I’ll Uber, you get to work first.”

“Plus… can’t get up.” He leans back into the bed. 

You laugh, “Okay, I got you a breakfast sandwich and breakfast tea,” you pull open the sliding door.

“Should be ready in 15 minutes at the café on ground level.” You walk over and pinch his face—no longer chubby like the one from your memory—sweeping his messy long hair to the side. 

As you step into a pair of less-steep heels compared to the ones from yesterday at the entry, you say, “Bye~~” the sound echoing through the space. 

You turn to see him leaning on the kitchen counter, with a glass of water, the couch blanket wrapped around his upper body, and a pair of pajama trousers extending to his mid-shin. He waves at you, smiling sheepishly, while he lays the mug down to the counter to use his free hand to rub his eyes.

“Hey! That’s my mug.” You deadpan. Eyes fixed on the Duffy Bear mug in his hands, that he was casually sipping from.

It’s impossible to not smile at this sight. 

The sun wasn’t up yet, but the dim kitchen became a bit sunnier.

And you shut the door.

Meeting. De-briefing. Plan devising. Coffee-chatting. Client meeting. Risk managing. Tracking. Documenting. Your morning was packed with events back-to-back, and that’s part of what you enjoyed about this job, that you got to challenge and push yourself. You were back at your desk after a short remote meeting, now on to managing the schedule for next week.

‘Ding!’ It was a notification from your messenger, you open it on your phone. There’s a big cartoon emoticon with a wink, and it reads:

K.K.: [Sticker]

K.K.: Are you hungry? Seen 11:37

Quickly, you respond,

Hungry. Break at 12:50. Seen 11:37

You send back another sticker with a character busily writing named “busy at work”. In an hour’s time, you’re done reviewing the presentation one co-worker sent you, and it’s about time to take a break. There was only a couple people in your team that haven’t gone for lunch.

‘Ding!’

K.K.: I’m here. Seen 12:38

? Seen 12:39

You walk to the lift, going down to ground. Walking out to the entrance, you see a familiar silhouette. At the corner of your vision is his car, which you assume to be his from it’s flamboyant style, is parked outside the bollards. By the time you’re in front of him, he’s panting a bit, and he holds a paper bag up.

“Lunch.” He says between pants, “I made it for you, but it was also a goodbye gift to my roommates.” 

You laugh. “Thank you for your honesty. I guess there are benefits to welcoming you as my new ‘roommate’.” 

“Don’t you have class?” Your eyes narrow at him. 

“No, I don’t.” He raises his hands in surrender. 

“I have class from two to six-thirty.” 

You think of the new deal your boss mentioned for dinner. “As a thank you for lunch, how about we go enjoy dinner together tonight? I’ll pick you up at 6:45.” 

“Oh, so generous?” He chaffs, moving in and leaning close—so close you can feel the chilled mint from him gum on your nose.

“Family Day deal.” You push on his shoulder, “Thank you for the lunch.” 

His gaze flickers to something behind you.

You look back. 

The motion of your two friends pauses and they move to the side. You definitely had tea to spill to them on the way back.

‘Ding!’

Jade: Boyfriend? Delivered 12:50

[sunnysanae]

undue (pt. iv) Aventurine x reader

It's the familiarity that creates distance, especially in the dark, especially beside him.

pt.iii recap: Half an hour later, you smile as you hear his footsteps approaching his side of the bed. Series synopsis Series masterlist

notes: modern!au, uni student!aventurine & corporate!reader, f!reader (she/her pronouns), found family trope, guardian-like reader, age gap (19aventurine-24reader, flashback no romance: 11aventurine-16reader), set in imagined london.

You’re leaning on your side of the bed, trying your best to sleep in the dim room. It should be easy, considering how fulfilling that warm shower was after a long day of work.

But you’re feeling nervous.

A part of you regrets suggesting that you share the bed, because this doesn’t feel at all how it used to.

It's been years since the two of you last shared a living space, and even longer since bed-sharing days. The relationship dynamic has changed somehow, and you’re unable to pinpoint what. It didn’t help to remind yourself that you were sharing the bed with someone you’d long seen as family, because somewhere between time and distance, it could have well been the case that that wasn’t what bonded you anymore—what would that make of this?

Amidst your heavy, tangling thoughts, you roll to glance over at him.

And he smiles at you, eyebrows drooping with his eyes at their corners.

You turn back as a reflex, burying your face into the warm blanket. “I’m sleeping.” 

You caught a glimpse of his bare shoulders. You mumble into the soft cover, “Sleep tight, Aventurine, don’t catch a cold.”

With heavy thoughts came heavy sleep.

Outside, it’s the season where there’s no way of telling that it’s the morning if not for your morning alarm. Based on your senses, your position wasn't the most comfortable for a night's sleep. Only a sliver of outdoor lighting was visible, reflected from the sliding door rim, and its light cast itself onto your phone on the bedside table.

Reaching for the device, you pushed yourself upwards, then diagonally, considering your body was already on a slant. Except that “the bed” was not soft, and a large groan came from under you. 

Oh my goodness.

You’d left your phone on the opposite bedside table.

You remember thinking he wouldn’t join you for the night. 

Slowly turning your head up and towards the left, you see a pair of bright violet eyes, with pupils larger than usual in the dark, half-shut, and glancing right down at you.

Aventurine’s hair was frayed in different directions on the pillow, clearly disturbed, but he didn’t move. He just kept staring. You felt the need to escape, but instead set forth to make a final reach for your buzzing phone and slipped back towards your side of the bed as soon as you got hold of it. As you did so, you swiftly reached for Aventurine’s quilt and pulled it over his exposed upper body without a second look.

Based on his reaction and your memory from waking up, you suspect you’ve been there for a while, on top of him. “On top of” is a subtle way of phrasing it; you were practically latched onto him, hands hanging off his shoulders. Anything you’d do to explain this situation could make matters worse.

“Deep sleeper, huh?” He teases in a tone that clears the thought from your mind, the last part of his question trails into a soft yawn.

You slip into your slippers and make your way to your bathroom.

“Mhm, deep sleeper, just a mobile one.” You say, as you shut the door behind you.

[sunnysanae]

undue (pt. iii) Aventurine x reader

Friendly fire.

pt.ii recap: He looks at you, anticipatingly, “I’ll show you it’s worth it.” You hum. Parking in the reserved slot. Series synopsis Series masterlist

notes: modern!au, uni student!aventurine & corporate!reader, f!reader (she/her pronouns), found family trope, guardian-like reader, age gap (19aventurine-24reader, flashback no romance: 11aventurine-16reader), set in imagined london.

A trail of consecutive “beeps” signalled your reunion with your apartment. Another second in the bright-lit entryway with the work bag on your shoulder would have burned you down to the carpeted floor. Aventurine suggested that he’d take it off your hands, but being the stubborn person you were, you kindly declined. 

Your feet were awfully tired from a twelve-hour workday, trapped for a significant portion of that time in heels. Lazily slipping out of your shoes and tapping blindly with your feet on the floor to find your slippers, you manage to lose balance over your own feet.

You crashed into him with an undignified squeak, your hair splayed against his exposed chest. It was unfamiliar how firm it was—like slamming into a wall that smelled stupidly good. 

His chest broke your fall—broad and warm beneath your hands, the scent of cedar and something faintly spiced curling in the space between them. You found your palms pressed against his the satin of his blazer over his chest, the steady thump of his heart oddly comforting.

In an instant, you shifted and propped yourself back up. Regaining distance. Littering sorrys and small curses at your clumsiness as you stumbled backwards. As you turned around, his slender fingers wrapped around your shoulders from behind with the intent to help you stabilise, settling some of his weight into them.

He leans down to your right ear, advising,

“Careful.”

A long sigh you expelled was met with his warm laughter as he backed away. Your ears were embarrassingly red, and to avoid the uncomfortable feeling, you change the topic. 

“There are two bedrooms, but,” you pause, the warm light flickering on in the dark room, “this one’s not a space I’d want you sleeping in.” You flash him a very cheeky smile, pointing into the room that’s become a storage for your miscellaneous items. 

Aventurine’s face is painted with a helpless smile as he leans back into the tall doorframe. He slowly takes the room in. It was a large room with lots of storage space, but evidently not enough. From your scarves and coats to your old textbooks, an array of items was spread across the bed. 

“You can shower here, though.” You add promptly, returning a bashful expression on your face. “Some of your old T-shirts and shorts should still be in the storage. You left them with me in the old apartment on Ebury.” You study his current shape. “Of course, they might not fit you anymore.” 

“Whatever you choose to wear, or choose not to wear,” you cough, “doesn’t make too much of a difference. I’m a deep sleeper, you know this. I probably won’t notice anything anyway.”

He closes his eyes and nods intently at that.

“I’ve seen all the ways you’ve looked over the years. I'm literally a testament to your... metamorphosis." You try comforting him. Small giggles begin to fill in the gaps of your speech as you note, “Nothing too notable.” He raises his eyebrow, and your laugh fills the room. You reach over to rub his hair. He's been bleaching his hair for years now.

Your hand naturally slips into his as you lead him to the other room, adjacent to this one.

“This is my room.” You start. The rooms were symmetrical, but this one was taken care of and organised. You nudge him, “Hey, I rarely expect guests.”

“So you want me to sleep in the other room.” He deadpans. “The one that I’ll clean up and undust, two in one?” His head quirks to the left. 

You pretend to think, arms crossed and carefully considering. “I was thinking, well, maybe I could bring another quilt over, and we could share the bed,” you smiled, “like we usually do.” Your voice gradually got quieter, realising how wrong this sounded. It's a memory too far in the past to be considered usual.

“Oh,” there’s a sarcasm and mockery to his voice right when he begins, “so you want me to sleep with you.”

What the hell, this was definitely his payback. An offended, competitive, and frustrated expression settles on both your faces. 

“No, no.” You say, shaking your head left to right. “Honey, if you wanna sleep in that other room,” nodding as you point across the walkway, “please go ahead.”

Half an hour later, you smile into your blanket as you hear footsteps approaching his side of the bed.

[sunnysanae]

undue (pt. ii) Aventurine x reader

The familiar parts of you always make their way back to me.

pt.i recap: “Tell him to get back home.” You finish, smiling and hanging up the call. “Mind picking me up?” Series synopsis Series masterlist

notes: modern!au, uni student!aventurine & corporate!reader, f!reader (she/her pronouns), found family trope, guardian-like reader, age gap (19aventurine-24reader, flashback no romance: 11aventurine-16reader), set in imagined london.

It was a mix of pitter-pattering from the rain and hail on your windshield, the bustling chatter of the crowd on a Friday night in this city, and the soft screech of your tires in your ears as you pulled over into the lane. 

The night was still young in London. Sequined miniskirts and over-the-top fur coats had just begun to decorate the club in your peripheral vision. Your right hand scrolled twice at the steering wheel, dialling to your starred contact: Aventurine. 

In what feels like seconds, there’s a familiar knock on your passenger window. It’s a young man in a sharp, deep green blazer that shines in the dim lights, his hair is very blonde—far blonder than you last remember it—and his face framed with a pair of designer shades. It’s almost an alarming response when you fully come to recognise him. 

Click. The doors come unlocked. In comes a crisp wave of childish laughter, alongside the overpowering sillage of raspberry and whiskey, washing into you. You take in the laughter, the scent, the unfamiliarity, but above all, the confidence that you’re glad to see in the boy you watched grow up. 

It takes just a moment for his fragrance to disperse and blend into your car's atmosphere. The heart-note of cedarwood blends into the stiff scent of leather in the car nicely, you thought. It'll stay in the leather for days to come, when you go to work, and when you drive home. And it was around then that you noticed you'd been quiet for far too long, and you were staring. 

Aventurine was staring too, just at his nickname on the screen, “K.K.”

He was still smiling, a little softer now at the corners of his mouth. 

K.K. was the name you remember giving him when he moved in with your family. He was eleven, and you were sixteen. His parents arranged for him to be sent to the boys’ grammar school next to yours, so the two of you naturally grew close.

It was nowhere near easy for him to adapt to the new environment abroad.

Political and financial tensions grew for his parents at home, and they were unable to evade the consequences. You remember calling him “Kakavasha” when the two of you were far younger, but when you met again, your parents told you that his name was Aventurine. 

If Aventurine was a pseudonym his family had crafted to protect him, then K.K. was a mutual understanding between you and him, a shapeless rebellion towards some constructed identity. 

You smiled as you came back from your memories, hitting your turn signal.

“So, where are we headed?” You asked while turning down the music. A small realisation hit from the conversation earlier. “You have a place to stay, at least for tonight, right?”

He leaned his head into the headrest, “Oh, oops.”

That answer means no.

He goes on, “My roommate’s still at that members’ club,” he shrugs and flashes you a small, sly smile, “forgot my keys.” 

“Did you want to book a hotel or something for the night?” You questioned. There was a part of you that was sceptical, another larger part, however, was genuinely concerned that he had nowhere to go. 

In the absence of a response, you looked over at him. His smiling eyes met yours, with an ironic pout on his lips, “I’m a university student, with very little to spend.”

You cocked an eyebrow, eyeing his whole outfit up and down. Nothing about the outfit supported his blatant lie.

His blazer and trouser set was well-made with good fabrics and a good shape. Not to mention the hardware pendant necklace from Tiffany’s adorning his collarbone, visible from the deep-cut neckline on his bare chest. You could go on with the designer shades, the shoes, his rings, his earrings; to be honest, you’re pretty sure the bracelet on his wrist that you got for him for his high school graduation could at least bring him a week in an excellent hotel in this area of the city.

“Ah, so you’re going home with me.” You said in a tone of feigned defeat. 

“Oh yeah, yeah. I get it. You got a life of your own now.” He shoots back.

You laugh complacently, “Hey, I’m glad. After four years, little Aventurine finally makes his way back home to live with big sis…!”

He stares at you from the passenger seat. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. There’s a glint of distress in his eyes. He laughs again, showing his pointy teeth.

“I have to warn you, though, these days, Ma’am Yoon isn’t here to clean up after you anymore, so you’ll have to keep things organised after you cook.” You think about all the times he’s disassembled your kitchen in the past.

He rolls his eyes and says, “Wait ‘til you see how much my cooking improved, you’ll be waiting for seconds.” He looks at you, anticipatingly, “I’ll show you it’s worth it.”

You hum.

It was almost first nature to welcome him back into your life.

You park in the reserved slot.

[sunnysanae]

excitedd

honkai: star rail navigation

aventurine undue || pt. (i) | syn. modern!au, uni student!aventurine & corporate!reader, f!reader, found family trope, guardian-like reader, age gap

[sunnysanae]

undue (pt. i) Aventurine x reader

He called you for help. But it was you who needed him. Series masterlist

notes: modern!au, uni student!aventurine & corporate!reader, f!reader (she/her pronouns), found family trope, guardian-like reader, age gap (19aventurine-24reader, flashback no romance: 11aventurine-16reader), set in imagined london.

It’d been five months since you started working for the firm.

You angled your heels upwards under the work desk to massage your stressed ankles. It was 9:00 pm—market close—when your work day ended. You sprawled your arms out around the desk chair, reaching for your bag tucked away in the corner of the cubicle.

You entered the lift from the 31st floor down, familiarly digging around the side pocket for your phone. In red letters on your screen, you had a missed call from a name you hadn’t expected (K.K. (1)). 

Since he’s started university, Aventurine has rarely contacted you by text, let alone by call. The times he did text, it was a short, brief “Merry Christmas” or “Happy New Year.” Knowing he usually doesn’t call unless it’s urgent, you dialled back almost immediately after entering your car, even though you knew the signal would only be regained after leaving the underground parking.

The Bluetooth ringtone chiming throughout your car was short-lived. But your glabella was instantly irritated, brows furrowing at the sound of static, cups clashing, music, and girls’ laughter. 

In sync, your greetings clashed. His speech was slurred. A short silence followed as you stopped for the red light at the intersection, your fingers lightly tapping the steering wheel in a repetitive beat; it was something playing on the radio a few seconds ago. 

“I saw your call from earlier today, what’s up?”

And you can hear the latching of a heavy door from his side, as the music quieted, and his voice had regained a crisp conscience. “The semester’s ending.”

“Mhm,” you’d hum in response.

“I wanted to find a place to live, wanna move outta the residence”

“You have an area in mind?”

“Mm.. yup,” he says, but from the lilt of his voice, you know he hasn’t looked into the housing market much. As you take a left turn, his voice rings up again, “Where are you right now?”

“Just passed your school, Fleet Street.”

“I’m driving home,” silence instilled, then reinstated by the ticking of your turn signal. 

“From work.” You added. You weren’t sure if you mentioned it to him the last time you talked.

A man’s voice chimed in from the other side, carrying a cacophony of different sounds alongside it, “What’s taking you so long?”

You listened in on the conversation this time. With suddenly slow, slurred syllables, Aventurine goes on to say, “Fa-mily’s callin’.” You snorted at his dramaturgy, his smile is audible in his speech. He knocks twice on his phone screen, and you can hear it. 

You know what he’s up to.

Laughing into the cool air of your car, you clear your throat and yell, “Aventurine, where the hell are you?”

The other man is audibly taken aback, “Woah, goodness,” he clears his throat, 

“Who’s this?” He was moving closer, evident through the echo in your car’s audio system. 

“His sister.”

“Tell him to get back home.” You finish, smiling and hanging up the call from the steering wheel.

Only a few moments later, your ringtone bursts out again, Aventurine lightly chuckling, with cars that can be heard from a distance,

“Mind picking me up?”

[sunnysanae]

undue Aventurine

He came to live with your family as a boy, sent to study while his parents remained caught in a political struggle. You were meant to protect him—it was just routine, simple, and easy.

When you left for the city to study and work, you thought things would stay the same—he’d just go on with his life, and you’d naturally drift apart, pursuing separate paths.

You never thought much of it: his calls, his visits, the way he’d wait up when you got home late. But somewhere between living together and quiet dinners, you started seeing him differently.

He called you for help. But it was you who needed him.

upcoming aventurine x f!reader series

fic notes: modern!au, uni student!aventurine & corporate!reader, f!reader (she/her pronouns), age gap (19aventurine-24reader, flashback no romance: 11aventurine-16reader), set in an imagined london.

author notes: aventurine is perfect for this trope: broken backstory, mutual dependency, scheme, familiarity, lovers' guilt, unethical guilt, two lonely people in a big city, aventurine who most definitely studies economics with a special focus on the behavioural aspects, closer than friends... borderline family... i could go on

[sunnysanae]

honkai: star rail navigation

aventurine undue syn. in which the boy who grew up with you returns to your life. modern!au, sibling-complex, roommates!au, uni student!aventurine & corporate!reader, f!reader, found family trope, guardian-like reader, age gap

pt. (i) He called you for help. But it was you who needed him.

pt. (ii) The familiar parts of you always make their way back to me.

pt. (iii) Friendly fire.

pt. (iv) It's the familiarity that creates distance.

pt. (v) Explanations do us no justice.

[sunnysanae]

a ring on yours, a ring on mine. pt.2 victor lee 李泽言, f!reader, reader is mc *, fluff

part 1: angst

"you too, who's the lucky girl?" genuinely and kindly smiling at the man. whoever was to have him was indisputably lucky, victor was a considerate man with all the love a human could give. after all, he finally found the right person to spend the rest of his life with. except it wasn't you, and yours will never be him. a ring now decorated your finger, and soon, a ring would decorate his.

the edges of his lips pursed into a thin line, his entire expression flattening. this usually meant that victor was disappointed, only upon realising this once familiar gesture, had you started to examine his features a little further. his attributes seem to have deepened since the last time you saw them. his face more defined, with thin crinkles by his stern eyes and the corners of his lips. victor had aged like a bottle of fine wine, reminding you of the pinot noir you enjoyed in abroad in eastern france. seeing him again brought you a wave of comfort and bliss, the emotional remains of your relationship. but the slightest of firmness in his brows and the drooping corners of his eyes reminded you of the time that had passed. it set off tidal waves in your gut. he didn't say anything in response to your question. a dainty frown loomed over his face. and somehow, it made you feel guilty. guilty of what, you weren't sure. maybe of leaving him here, in lianyu, all alone. nevertheless, you were glad for him, that he was presumably living in happiness in the comforts of this city. best for you to leave, and bid him your best wishes you'd thought. you'd have to tell natalie you were reconsidering the ring, and maybe you'd come in to look at engagement rings at another time. you weren't engaged, and there was no meaning it proving engagement to anyone—the entire thing was childish of you. just as your eyes wandered downward to find the ring wrapped innocently around your finger, the jolly rhythm of natalie's heels chimed in. "goodness name, my colleague downstairs told me that someone had placed down this ring." her voice dulling to a whisper, "the very person i was speaking to you about." as natalie recognised you were in a trance, her gaze adverted to the tall man facing in your direction. you swear you saw her tremble a bit in her heels. in a jolt, she began, "sir, a big congratulations to you and your significant other! we've been delighted to witness this moment in such a beautiful love story!"

professionalism at its best you thought. it was around then that you'd started to connect the dots. billionaire crony, demanding a flawless diamond for his fiancée, as natalie congratulates the man standing rigidly afront of you. the ring on your finger, shining brilliantly under the boutique lights with all its sparkling splendour, now belonged to victor lee. a shadow painted half of his face, as the faintest spark lit in his eyes. he was about to provoke you and your false facade. "so, miss, that ring would be of my possession now, yes?" to the eyes of natalie, or anyone else in the room, this would have seemed like an honest question. the picture of his handsome face with the most minute upturn of his lips and the glimmer in his eyes. you'd remember this expression of provocation anywhere. it was the same look victor would give you on all your horrible report writing, when you worked tirelessly without fruition and ranted in his office, as you ate way too many portions of his finely made pudding, when you fell asleep on his couch after long hours of business dinners, and when you cried and sobbed in his arms over the littlest of things. oh how sincere this man looked, but you know he's making fun of your little lie. you weren't, in truth, engaged, nor married. although you tried to fight it, a deep scarlet still crawled up to the apples of your cheek. the sales representative's heels chattered again, as her delayed nods loaded furiously. upon witnessing your frown, natalie placed her hand on your elbow to lead you to the isolated room to remove the band on your finger. you heard the slow legato of victor's steps follow suit. you strongly disliked the warm feeling on your arms and cheeks when victor walked behind you. you didn't like to feel his presence. why was he still following along, was he so eager to get his ring? "give us a minute natalie, won't you?" he asks, as the three of you come to the doors of the booth. natalie's confusion is unhidden but she nods as some inexplicable commotion of understanding blooms in her eyes. you're still frozen when the glass door has been pushed open, until the warmth of victor's fingers encloses your left wrist. as the two of you sit down, you can hear his uneasy breathing, and he starts. "i didn't mean to embarrass you," he begins. you nod, responding with a little laugh, "it's okay, i wasn't planning to buy it either. i'm not actually engaged you know." you look down again, what a bright ring you think. "to be fair, me neither," he states blatantly. you raise your eyebrow, "oh really, then what's this?" you shine your crested finger into the light. "curious as ever, aren't we?" he mimics your funny look. "i heard you were coming back," you nod. "and i know we settled on odd terms," you nod. "but i wanted to be prepared." you nod, until the clarity hits. "prepared for what?" your voice pipes. of course you knew what he meant. it wasn't your first day with this simple man. his soft laughter illuminates the space between you, "you've gotten even dumber since you left, you know," "prepared for whatever business that involves diamond rings and wedding bands, silly." just like the description of the ring, the two of you were in love at first sight, but your love will last far longer for the many more sights to be shared.

| an. dearest victor, love you so so much.

** for reference, the ring in this piece is "pure emotion" from Mouawad's love story collection. i was debating between a tear-drop, emerald, or square cut, but i think emerald cut just screams victor. also contemplated between "soul of harmony" and "pure emotion", the design of soh fits victor more, though i enjoyed the description of pure emotion <3.

[sunnysanae]

say yes, say yes alhaitham

syn. sweet, syrupy love songs were beginning to cloud your conscience, and you had begun to blindly picture the haitham with yourself. the two of you were best friends, maybe a push was all you needed. settings. modern!au, highschool!au, angst, unrequited love, gn! reader

cloudy skies gloomed over the bus stop, as the humidity in the air around you grew. you were tapping away at your phone, feet lightly at rhythm on the pavement, heart drumming at your ribcage, and thumping droplets blistering the panel covers. sweet, sweet music rang through your ears, as you stood up to look for a familiar face.

the haitham was expected. the two of you spent a lot of time together and got on the same bus every day after school. not to mention the snacks he's pressured into bringing for you, his extra notes from your common lectures, and the plenty of kind gestures he'd show during the long bus ride. it would be coldhearted of you to not become dependent on his company. dependent. you loved having him sit next to you. it was easy to like him, an academically and socially intelligent individual. he always knew what to say: if there was an especially difficult class, he would be there on extra to tutor you; conflict with peers, and he'd suggest ways to get out of it. gloomy days seemed to always bloom rainbows when al haitham was around. tough daytimes at school were met with his afternoon praise, like a band-aid to a wound. you like him. you've liked him for some time now, and you often wish you hadn't. you've come to notice the way his demeanour softens around you, the things you once saw as routine are now burdened by your delusional, romantic fantasies. from the way his fingers lightly secure your shoulder, keeping you still from the bus's turbulence, while you've fallen asleep—to how he takes off his blazer to cover you on chilly days. each treasured memory replaying in your mind, in tune with the metronomic rain. today is the day. and as you lift your head from your reverie, lashes fanning out of scope, there he stands. paraíba tourmaline eyes, curved in a gentle smile, emerging from the shadow of his large umbrella. "what fills your head today?", his crisp voice delivers. 'you, you, you.' your inner-self taunted. it must be the rain, fogging up your vision and steaming your cheeks. your mouth opened to speak, "....i", then closed up again. the brows sitting atop your hiding eyes knitted softly together. he smiled at your dumbfoundedness and reciprocated your look of guilt, trying to understand what you could have possibly wanted to say. the sounds of omitting gas and wheels rushed afront your boots, with the sharp staccato of rain hurled against the solid exterior of the bus. the gust of air making your chilly feet all warm. sighing in some sort of inexplicable defeat and disappointment, you propped both hands on the bench about to stand up. al haitham noticed your mood, and lent you his lukewarm hands, with his umbrella already wide open. the diminishing heat of your hand melting into his. your scattered steps stuttering, as if you had learnt to walk only yesterday. hurriedly climbing to your seat. the bus ride was quiet, but not for you. you found it awfully difficult to hear anything other than your bloodrush. the rainwater outside pummeled like bullets onto the window glass. then as you peered over your shoulder, he was sitting there, perfectly; listening to something with his earbuds. he leaned slightly off the chair, fingers lightly rubbing and twirling at the strings. you enjoyed admiring him like this, where time seemed to still, and the proximity was just right. it was a fragile moment, so terribly hard to not interrupt, so aching to maintain. a wave of infatuation flooded over you again, lips parting while nothing left your lips other than silence. and just like that, it was his stop. you sat there, quietly, as he bade you bye and left the bus. maybe this was how things were best in the relationship you shared. but an annoying voice in the back of your head continued to chatter, 'now or never', 'you'll never know unless you take a chance', 'what if things go right?'. impulse is the devil. you seized your bag, nearly tripping while running for the door. the humidity in the air outside was dangerously high, and huge drops of water began to soak your dress shirt, as you treaded on the sidewalks. "haitham!" you yelled, lungs exasperated, standing there.

he turned, eyes widening with the realisation of you, and jogging towards you with his umbrella. a genuinely worried look painted his sharp features. taking ahold of your soaked arm, and shielding you from the tortuous rain. a dark warmth pulled you close, shortening that perfect distance you tried so hard to preserve. your breath hitching, lungs expanding, as tears almost fall from your eyes. scared and frustrated.

"i need to tell you something," you began.

"i knew there was something wrong today." he noted. yes, something severely wrong, you thought. feeling his amiable, concerning gaze scan all over you for a hint of what caused you to be in such abnormal distress. following, the rain, as if on command, came pouring down. hitting and ricocheting from the sides of his umbrella. a deep breath in, and out came a cry. "i like you, i like you a lot." in a big pout, you huffed it all out. the silence, replay. all your nerves are emptied of the tension and stress from milliseconds before, then filled again with awkwardness. you assumed neither of you was breathing. the answer lay obliviously in the silence. it was written all over his face, his nitted brows, eyes glancing in another direction as if concealing some rage. you understood, in his hesitation were his troubles, his struggles, and his conflict. a glimpse of red crept to the corner of his eyes, as now he was the one deprived of the right words. could you believe it? the smart haitham, at a deficit for diction. you stood there, studying his face, waiting, as the rain simmered. by the time his eyes reunited with yours, you had already known his response. orbs filled with sorrow and apology, you hated to see this so much, but you were glad you didn't have to keep it in your guts any longer. you didn't want to cause him trouble, none of the heart-aching problems he caused for you. your teeth bit down to your inner lip, as water dripped down your chin, eyes looking for enclosure once more. his cracking voice replied, "sorry, i can't". weight in your heart dropped to your guts and a sour feeling immersed your nose. you knew he wasn't the type to want a relationship, how silly of you to do this to yourself. looking down, attempting to hide your tears from his analyzing eyes. you nodded, rain still dripping from your hair. his hand raised, finding its grip on your shoulder, closing in, and letting go. his short-lived warmth on your hands, transferring his umbrella to you. he took the first step out, worry not waning from his attributes, walking, and taking several momentary glimpses back. clutching your elbow as you walked home, holding gently on the handpiece his black umbrella. walking through the puddles on the pavement. no tears would fall, just sharp inhales and exhales. shivering as you climbed up your doorsteps, as a familiar melody rang in your ears. "say yes, say yes."

only then, had you realised the rain had long stopped.

[sunnysanae]

blue lock navigation

nagi seishiro

his annoying habits | fluff, gn!reader. some nagi hcs about his cutely pestering behaviours.

shidou ryusei

my turn for fun | suggestive, f!reader. let's get rid of this party, and rid of these clothes.

[sunnysanae]

his annoying habits seishiro nagi

syn. so what's it like living with nagi? well, let me tell you a bit about the puzzling behaviours of this annoying little football genius i love so much. genre. character-specific scenarios, fluff, gn! reader. an. nagi is a koala, change my mind.

¹ nagi does not let you out of bed!

the man absolutely suffocates you with his big build, straddling and entrapping you with all four limbs. he was definitely one of a kind in his laziness. if he could, nagi would probably prefer to do everything worth doing in a day on the bed: gaming, eating, and even football practice (?). whenever the boy catches you squiggling to the floor, he encloses you again with the sensation of his warm chest and cushy blankets. this was horrible for a busy person like you. i mean, how could you reject his quiet, dry voice when he pleads in your ear, all droopy-eyed, for you to stay?

² nagi likes to stick you to him.

likes to have your body draped over his as he's playing on his console, likes to have you cuddled to him as he stretches out on the sofa, and likes to have you by him under all circumstances. he was like slime, attaching himself to you wherever you went. nagi enjoys brushing his teeth next to you most, his pajamaed arm bestriding your waist, while neither of you want to be awake. sadly, he can't stick to you during practice, so he'll sit you on his seat where everyone, including him, can see you in his place.

³ nagi can eat forever if you keep feeding him.

you realised this in the most horrific way possible. one evening you made a terrific portion of rice pudding, and the footballer ate 32 bowls worth of the concoction. only to find the same man at midnight, face painted with a glow originating from the refrigerator. sometimes, nagi would even go out of his way to steal your food, like that time you left your opened yoghurt on the table while going to the restroom (womp womp). despite his cruel acts, he enjoyed laying on the couch, doing nothing, and sharing a cup of lemon tea with you.

⁴ nagi makes strange sounds when he's hungry.

it's a low grumble at first, then some odd squeaking, and after that, he practically starts yipping. in which, none of these sounds emerge from his digestive system.

[sunnysanae]

lilies of the valley part 5 : silent sonnets | kamisato ayato

syn. you came knocking on his door, like coal on a wintery day. upon the hiemal of his life that seemed to overcast a shadow forever, you appeared. after the tempest, came the cozy winds. treasures came to those who waited. cw/ tw. fluff. implicit female reader. themes of arranged marriage, SLIGHT themes of childhood trauma.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Stumbling backwards as your unsteady breath hitched at his abrupt voice. Gradually losing the little balance you had in the first place. The surface of your back was caved by the warmness of the Kamisato's chest in the dark space, as he secured you firmly by your wrist. Mumbling some short affirmations about being careful, he makes his way over to ignite the candles on the black walnut bedside table.

Small pebbles of water still dewed from his damp hair, the new light creating a signature on the contours of Ayato's features. A deep, silk robe coated his build, glimmering as he removed his blushed ankles from his slippers. Fair limbs accommodating to rest on the mattress, as his eyes moved to linger on you.

Recalling your oblivious regard, you began to explain your disposition, "I figured it would be alright to come to see you, Ayato." A shy smile garmented your face. He responded quickly, a fibbed look of sadness and despair on his face,

"Ah, and I assume that's the reason why on your recurrent visits, you've never even stepped foot into my study."

"Well yes," you began, mustering up an unclever excuse, "I wanted to spend more time with your sister, so I'd been paying my visits to the fair lady." Your face reddening with each word released from your lying mouth, you were a bad liar.

Seeing through your faulty disguise, Ayato remarked, "Oh? is that so?" Raising his body from the bedside, taking slow steps to your frozen stance on the woolly carpet, "Lady Name, are you planning on an engagement with my younger sister," he raised his voice in a teasing tone, positioning himself to face you, and a finger placed on your chin, "or are you anticipating an engagement with me?"

If these words came out of the mouth of any other being, a warning was to be given for the absolute grease and cringe. Though with his light chuckles, the speech was delivered in the most acceptable and kindest of ways.

It wasn't like the fact was unknown to the two of you, and it wasn't as if the topic hadn't been continuously brought up in the letters. Yet, Ayato's aide-memoire of the marriage had induced a vermillion to cover the face you made such an effort to occlude, as your eyes persisted to move to see his.

"You." A pout forms on your lips.

The man gestured for you to join him on the edge of the bed, patting at the soft region beside him. Though your behaviours were quaint, the Kamisato was able to comprehend your body language—how your cheeks flamed, the way your voice stammered, your eyes repressing from his gaze, and most notably the way your fingers, contradictingly, naturally locked with his. You were comfortable around him, just as he was with you. Interactions and exchanges between the two of you felt innate and unforced, or in so he was convinced to believe.

Hands interlinked again, just as they were on that summery spring afternoon the two of you had shared in the garden. Breathing steadily, your eyes almost seemed to lid; you lean, gravitating into his arms. It was silent again. Like most of the moments of your couplet. Comfortable, trusted silence. The beautiful kind of speechlessness neither of you wanted to interrupt. Dropping, almost in synchrony, to the soft sheets of the bed, your hair and his tangling with each other, splayed out on the bed. A whisp of laughter spilt from your lips, and his low chuckles hummed in rhythm.

Ayato realised how much he was beginning to love this commotion: how he longed for someone to be by his side, hands conjoined, sharing memoirs of gaiety with him. One of the rare moments where his worries and stress dissipated, there was a split second where he was encouraged to just let go. He gently brought his eyes to a shut, exhaling deeply and shakily...was it a good thing to be accustomed to this company?

The temperate melody of a voice from your lips soothed him, as it always has, "..I know you've been through a lot 'yato," your head turning to examine his, "I can't fully understand the things you've experienced, " your hands tightening around his, "but I'll be with you now. I'm right here. " you say, patting the soft flesh of his palm while caressing his pale knuckles.

An even tenderer voice confiding him, as you inched close to his ear, "I'm here to stay." The contemplation of a thousand thoughts surrounding the recompensation of your sentiments all vanishes, as you set yourself free to adore him.

Watching as he flittered his prepossessing, periwinkle lashes wide open, revealing his indigo eyes once more; now bringing the air into his lungs at an adagio. The lord adjusted his face to confront yours, a newborn delicateness visible in them. His grip on your plush hands tautened to reciprocate the tempest of emotions inside his fragile heart. Ayato had invariably believed the gods and deities had abandoned him long ago, stripping away the commodities and individuals he cherished most. Now, he was beginning to feel suspicion for his unjust assumptions.

The gods had sent him a dear angel, to be by his side. To light and guard, to rule and guide. And he would accept his destined fate, you were his sacred gift.

"General Surname departed on a mission today, the silent night is never as peaceful as it seems" he pauses, wrapping his large hand around your cheek, "so why don't you stay the night?"

Though the two of you were silent about the connection, the members of the house could already sense the relationship you held. Their hypothesis fully concluded to be true, as the maids found you, all snug and neatly tucked in the toasty cove of the bed belonging to the head of their clan.

an. I am down bad.

tagging. @thetwinkims

[sunnysanae]

mr. love queen's choice navigation

victor li a ring on yours, a ring on mine. pt.1 angst. f!reader | syn. you return to lianyu after your years abroad, to find victor, your former boyfriend at the ring boutique. a ring on yours, a ring on mine. pt.2 fluff. f!reader | syn. mutual understandings, after years it seems our feelings stay the same.

[sunnysanae]

a ring on yours, a ring on mine. victor lee 李泽言, f!reader, angst

you sat on the sofa, admiring the ring adorning your finger, as the sales spoke to you about the brand's history. a blissful smile of excitement lathering over your lips, it wasn't every day you were 'getting married'. shifting the piece side to side to admire the emerald-cut diamond under different lightings. how the little jewels wrapping around your fingers identifed unbreaking love was beyond you. you've considered marriage before, perhaps just never with the right individuals. otherwise, another take, with the right individuals, at the wrong time.

your admirable ex-lover was a busy man after all, and the two of you sought for different things in your relationship. victor was always wanting something tangibly official between the two of you, while you were always heading for business success—never ready for dedicating into his love. the sales assistant's voice dragged you back to reality, "it's brilliant, isn't it? one of a kind, 8.51 ct, rated flawless, and crafted over 2000 hours," lightly whispering to add, "one of the executive designer's cronies, a billionaire, sought after this one for his wife. he said it represented his love-at-first-sight perfectly, isn't that sweet?" she fawned over her little tabloid, reaching over to grab your hand and admire it with joy. you hummed in response, "what happened then, why didn't he take the ring?" "well, there's a lot of discussion around that one, we heard he found one that was even better. no one's sure if that's supposed to mean the girlfriend or the ring." she sighed. you were reminded by the plenty of rumours and gossip revolving victor after you left for an opportunity in France, the model girlfriends and the plutocrat daughters. was he in a relationship now? you wouldn't know, not like the information concerned you anyway. "i know you like this one quite a lot, I'll leave you to it. call me if you need anything, i'm right outside." your sales representative remarked, watching you deep in thought. gently closing the doors of the private salon. taking a sip from the peppermint tea on the side table, still entranced and bemused by the beauty of the diamonds a while longer; before finally deciding to take it for yourself. you'd accomplished so much success in the past couple of years, you deserved to treat yourself with some jewels. everything was only going to get better from here—you were back in lianyu, and back for good. with the ring still on your finger, you walked out of the en suite. "natalie?" you called, searching for her as you roamed the boutique. crashing into a broad, suited shoulder, sensating an odd familiarity. stumbling back with your hands raised in front of your chest, you stuttered, "i'm terribly sorry." only to have had your soft, apologetic gaze met with stern, slate orbs. the name slipped from your mouth, "victor". it wasn't difficult to observe the twitch of shock in his expression this time, unlike in the past when he'd concealed his every emotion from strangers. perhaps, he didn't think you were a stranger. your eyes scanned him, he seemed to be a bit bigger, and even more charming than you remembered it. victor rapidly blinked, adjusting his throat to respond. "congratulations." his firm voice nearly echoed. a look of confusion and bewilderment filled your eyes, swallowing again to utter out, "what?" "your ring," his eyes not adverting from the diamond band, "congratulations." you didn't feel like explaining to him your situation. "thank you," you blandly replied. it also seemed clear to you why he was in this kind of boutique in the first place, "you too, who's the lucky girl?" genuinely and kindly smiling at the man. whoever was to have him was indisputably lucky, victor was a considerate man with all the love a human could give. after all, he was finally able to find the right person to spend the rest of his life with. except it wasn't you, and yours will never be him. a ring now decorated your finger, and soon, a ring would decorate his.

| an. im thinking of writing a part two... maybe a fluff?

** for reference, the ring in this piece is "pure emotion" from Mouawad's love story collection. i was debating between a tear-drop, emerald, or square cut, but i think emerald cut just screams victor. also contemplated between "soul of harmony" and "pure emotion", the design of soh fits victor more, though i enjoyed the description of pure emotion <3.

[sunnysanae]

lily of the valley 4 : hide and seek | kamisato ayato

syn. learning more about ayato's duties causes you to distance yourself from him, only to discover he doesn't want your alienation at all. if you always came to the estate to visit him, why hasn't he seen you at all? cw/tw. fluff, themes of arranged marriage, implicit female reader

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

As your letters became less frequent, your appearances at the estate seemed to increase. The Kamisato, however, was not always free from his heavy duties and work. Prompting an environment for you to familiarize yourself with the others in the house, including Thoma and the maids.

Ayato always prepared new intricacies for you beforehand, placed neatly on the tea table where you had first met. And it was there you had made your first encounter with the lord's sister, Ayaka. During your afternoon visits, Ayaka would sometimes come to join you for tea, pleasuring you with her compliments and kind respects. The two of you had developed a liking for each other, growing up in a similar manner. With guardians sacrificing and upholding the stress, so the two of you could live a liberal, content childhood.

It was through Ayaka that you'd discovered a deeper insight into Ayato's vulnerability and his horrifically depressing past. The accumulating weight he had to constantly upraise on his shoulders was not to be understood by anyone. Ayaka often recalled brief moments from the earlier days, her brother always caring and guiding her as a parent. As the Yashiro Commissioner and the head of the Kamisato Clan, you decided the occupied man was better left unpestered by your visits.

Therefore, on every visit afterwards, you brought pendants and charms for Ayaka, sharing with her the most popular publications in Inazuma, and the fun things you would do at home. Heart set on staying in Ayaka's room or helping out with Thoma—anything to stay a distance from Ayato.

"Name, aren't you supposed to be here to see my brother?" Ayaka would bring up teasingly. She knew how much her elder anticipated seeing you.

"M'm. I like spending time with you more. Besides, Lord Kamisato has lots of work to look through, isn't that right?"

Sighing between her words, Ayaka spoke again. "Excuses, excuses, excuses. Name, if he needs to spend his hours on something, I would much rather it be you than those government officials." Her brother needed someone to be by his side, someone he could communicate and speak to, and someone who could help him.

Hands lifted up in defeat and defence, you explained, "fine, fine, if you say so. I'll go bat him an eye."

The Sun had already set, and the corridors of the estate were lit by nothing other than dim candles. Thankfully, you were able to run into Thoma along the way. "Do you happen to know where the lord is?" You asked.

*. · 。、

Thoma nodded with the basket of laundry in his hands, "Lord Kamisato should be in his chamber by this hour, I don't think he would mind you visiting him. I'll take you." A kind smile plastered on his features. After a series of turns and small stairs, you were met with two tall doors, visible strands light from the gap between them.

"Why, go in now Name, you can wait on the seats to the left." Thoma ushered, opening the door on an acute angle. You carefully stepped in the warm room, as Thoma closed the door behind you.

"My lord?" your voice echoed through the room, there was no sight of the man you were looking for. Dropping yourself on the loveseat, you decided to wait some longer. The Kamisato's bedroom was spacious and incredibly clean, though quite minimalistic—with a monotonous vibe. Charring wood from the fireplace warmed your knees on a chilly night, and you lightly tapped your toes in await. Some minutes later, your voice rose again, "Lord Kamisato?" By this point, you had ventured off to another wing of the ample room, more dull and unclear. "...Ayato?" worry filling your soft-spoken words. You tried to take a step back, bumping into the chest of someone. A familiar voice warming the ends of your ear. "I'm here."

an. prepare yourselves for the next chapter, as I meditate some more..

tagging; @thetwinkims

[sunnysanae]

waking up to cyno fluff. gn! reader. short read 🤍

feverishly waking from your dream, eyes blinking as if not wanting to let go of the slumber land. legs skewed and spaghettied with the fluffy, white quilt; eyes focusing blankly on the ceiling. like usual, flailing your arms onto the headboard, while twisting your neck into tens of odd positions—your own version of a stretch. then with some sudden force, plopping yourself to face left.

grabbing a handful of the blanket to submerge your nose into. as you stared intently at his lidded lashes, fluttering alongside each breath he took, his pointy little nose, and his faintly parted lips. squealing as you buried yourself a bit further into the quilt, he was ardently lovable.

swimming over in the white sheets with your elbows, to place your head sideways on the boy's tanned chest. perhaps his ritual habit of sleeping shirtless was not so bad after all. immersed you were, consoled wholly in the experience. your fingers finding their destined position over the soft skin of his torso. as your ears pressed against his breastbone, willingly forfeiting yourself in the iambic rhythm of his unshared beat.

oh, how you wish you saw the awestricken expression painted on his face; when the position you 'fell asleep in' finally dawned in his mind. cyno's heart entering a sprinting fit—which you were able to recount purely and simply. fighting the scrupling tempest of his emotions, he adverted the weights of his hand to pat your head—which sat soundly nestled on his heart.

| an. what do you think cyno smells like? i think he would be a combination of amber, vanilla, musk, and maybe a little wood.