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Here the Boys and they're Bunny Outfits~
👯♂️💖✨
#alizera62#my artwork#fanart#au#yandere#sdj#sdj jack#sunny day jack#sunnydayjack#somethings wrong with sunny day jack#aphrodesia#Jambee#ghost#clowns#sparkles#hearts#tgogm#tgogm fanart#groom#roses#ghost groom#corpse groom#elias gallagher#flowers#blue flames#flames#glowing#TheGroomOfGallagherMansion#undergarments#the groom of gallagher mansion
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𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲, #𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 ★ ( modern au! headcannon )
★. . . introducing a new series and a new fandom 𓆩♡𓆪 this is a modern alternative universe of a court of throns and roses. this is only a headcanon! i'm not sure if i'm going to make this into a drabble. we'll see how this goes :) ★ . . . synopsis ⸻ you accidentally throw one to many parties a few... many times and now all of a sudden your landlord is kicking you out. who knew!? and on that unlucky day your angel from above found a "roommate needed" poster on one of the bullent board at school. desperate times calls for desperate measures. who knew this day and every single day after that would turn into the most luckest days in your life. 𓆩♡𓆪 ★ . . . note ⸻ female!blackreader, "the inner cirlce" will only consist of rhys, cassian, azriel for now and mor is not related to rhys in any shape or form.
it's been 3 months since the boys ⸻ ( not azriel apparently ) opened their hearts and their homes to you! and you still couldn't believe how things drastically changed, like you almost found a box to live in! Basically. but in all seriousness, you were extremely grateful. you didn't know where you were gonna end up 3 months ago so now, you carried nothing but gratitude in your heart.
however, living with three grown men can be a hassle and sometimes it can be overwheleming. with their scents suffocating you with every step they took around you and oh! did i mention that they are bigggg like fuck! with their muscle straining against their shirts and sometimes you would get caught staring at them; moslty rhys. but in all honselty it wasn't your fault!, like they should as least put on a shirt once or twice when you are around the house.
which brings up the topic of: ground rules you felt like yall needed some especially after the countless of times the boys would walk in on you changing or walking in on them. so it was perfect time to bring up this conversation
"honey, i'm home" cassian sang the words, with rhys snickering in the back and if you listen real close you can hear the huffs and grunts of azirel.
"hello, boys" you purred, you rose to your heels; trying carefully not to ruin your freshly panited nails. "i need to talk to yall." you stated clamly. the three tall giants gazed over you, azirel was puzzle, rhys show signs of concern and cassian just stuffed his big mouth with trail mix while the crumbles dropped periodically onto the shiny hardwodden floor.
you leaned back onto the kitchen counter, supporting yourself by your elbows. the small movemnet caused your chest to rise towards the celling and with your relaxed posture made the boys feel at ease. all three of them are insanely attractive that it even hurts to look at them.
rhys sat on the arm chair with his legs spreading wide as he steadied himself on it. your eyes didn't faltered, you didn't look down there you told yourself it was a trap to look there and oh boy there were countless of times where rhys caught you looking.
cassian sat on the edge of the cushions with his elbows perched on his kness.
Azriel standing the farthest away from you and the boys. brooding and letting the shadows of his bedroom engulfed him as he leaned against his doorway.
"so.." you trailed, and they watched intensively. your eyes dropping to rhys to your dried toes. they let you gather your thoughts, “We need to lay some ground rules, or like at least mention it" The invisible weight dropped off your shoulder, and so did they.
“oh, that's not so bad. you had me worried" cassian confessed. they all agreed in union.
you laughed, “How do feel about me bringing in guys over" You swallowed. your eyes darted to Rhys, whose expression was shocked to Cassain who tried to hide his smile and Azriel looked puzzled. as if, you looked like the type to never have a boyfriend or even mention a boy before.
you felt offended, "well don't look so fucking shocked" you spit out. rhys inhaled deeply as his mouth began to move, "no no, i-its just-
"we don't mind"
your eyes landed on Cassain after he cut off Rhys. you locked eyes on him and somehow he had you under his spell, he was so easy to talk to, and by easy you meant; all he had to do was look at you, and then all of sudden your lips were moving and he's giving you nothing but warmth.
"good, cuz-
"no overnight stays." azriel stated firmly. he locked eyes with you. holding you into his stare, like some sort type of competion.
you pushed yourself of the counter and nodded your head in agrument. "of course, this isn't a bed and breakfast. they leave before the sun comes up" you reply quickly. not backing down from he's intimate stare
"just keep the ...noise down" rhys mutters. you would of thought that you guys was talking about the bird and the bees in front of yall parents. like im pretty sure they bring in girls here all the time, well.. actually you haven't see that or you haven't even seen them with a girl in the first place. and you are 100% sure that their asses is not celibate.
it kinda makes you wonder a bit.."so um what about you guys ?" you curled you lip behind you teeth. rhys drly chuckled, he turned around to face cassian and azriel. which made you even more curious to know their sexual relations. i mean, its none of your business but at the same time you can't help to wonder. like do they share women secretly? or are they embrassed to bring with them around because you're here.
"uh, let's refocus. any more rules you got sweetheart?" your attention left rhys's who didn't stop staring to cassian who cheeks stained a pinkish color. you rasied your eyebrows, oh yeah they are definitely hiding something. and you have every intentions on finding out what.
but for now you continue with your ground rules,
number one: one night stands leave before breakfast
number two: knock, always knock.
number three: no snooping. ( az looked at you when he said that )
number four: help with grocery, dishes, cooking etc. ( duh )
number five: split household chores/clean after yourselves ( the boys are clean people for the most part but just in case )
number six: no being half naked or naked in the presence of eachother ( very important!!)
⸻ you know, you thought living with three full grown men would have cause you to pull out your hair in distress but now with ground rules in place you wouldn't mind living here full time. instead of a temporary stay, like you planned in the beginning.
author's note: i wanted to write more but tumblr got this thing about can't go over 4000 thousands word count so i hope yall enjoy this!
comment and rebloging is appreciated not required :)
#𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 ★#writers on tumblr#writing#black fem reader#writerscommunity#acotar x reader#a court of thorns and roses#acowar#a court of silver flames#a court of fey and flowers#rhys x reader#cassian#azriel x reader#cassian x reader#roomates#azriel#rhys#rhysand#az x reader#modern au#batboys#cassian imagine#rhys acotar#rhys imagine#azriel imagine#morrigan acotar#feyre archeron#rhysand smut#cassian x you#a court of mist and fury
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I did a thing…again.
Just realized that ya’ll need to click for better quality for some reason this post looks especially bad 🤚
#OKAY so this piece is a little old#I think I posted it on my twitter (of which I do not use anymore) and nobody really cared for it#WHICH IS FINE#I don’t make art for others I do it for me#BUT I know for a fact that some of you will definelty like this so I’m posting it on here as well#I added a WHOLE new just standing still sketch of Killer and a bunch of doodles to make it more fun#but technically the orginal piece was just the ‘in murder mode leaning over one’#which I could post seperately if ya’ll wanna see that idk??#ya know without the extra image of him and the doodles so its looks less like a collage#ANYWAYS back to the art I REALLY like how I drew Killer in this#LIKE HE LOOKS SO GOOD#ITS CRAZY#so pretty so lucious so cute#I’m literally obessed with drawing flame lighting#everything looks pretty in a nice warm glow#so yeah#he be standing#he be killing#hes killer#OH and all the doodles are of course easily apparent the rest are his trivia#oda thinks his flower is a snow drop#that boy would be a chef in a real world au#and one of his hobbies is playing the drums#so if ya’ll didn’t know that now you do#i also like to think how I wrote his name is how he signs his name#killer one piece#kid pirates#illustration#digital art#one piece
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Good Omens Fic Rec: Barriers, and the Breaking Thereof
Ezra Fell has long been comfortable in his loneliness. He’s content to simply run the Soho Public Library and otherwise keep to himself. However, when a handsome stranger bursts in one evening with a baby, frantic and in need of help, Ezra finds those carefully constructed barriers he’s long maintained begin to crack. Perhaps it’s time to let them fall.
Length: 71,209 words
AO3 Rating: Mature / Spice Level 🔥
Best for: Safe in Public, Pick-me-up, Romance, Human AU, Parent AU, Fluff
Triggers: None
Read it here, fic by Cardinal_Daughter
*Minor Spoilers* I am SUCH a sucker for parent AUs and this one really got my ass. This has to be one of my favorite parenting stories. Adam is written very believably at his various ages. I hate when kid dialogue is too baby or too advanced, this is that sweet spot. Crowley is such a good dad. He desperately wants to give Adam a better childhood than he had. And Ezra is a great parental figure as well. Becoming such a pillar of safety for Adam. I love that Crowley and Ezra don't just fall for each other because this is a fanfic and we know they will. This story takes care to show how their pasts have shaped them and where it has left scars, then shows us how Ezra and Crowley help each other to mend those jagged edges. They are both so lonely, but believably so. It's not weird that their chance encounter leads to a longer friendship, it's what both of them have been missing out on. This also allows them to be just friends for awhile. They both have feelings for each other, but they're not in agony over it. It's for understandable reasons that it hasn't progressed in a romantic sense, not just a forced conflict. They're just inexperienced, awkward, and happy with how things are going. I was also worried when it got to a certain point that it was just going to end abruptly, that they would share a kiss and that's it story's over. But thankfully it doesn't! It lets us see a bit of their happy ending, how they navigate changes to their relationship and make new traditions. It's such a natural friends to lovers story.
Completely safe in public until towards the end, but those scenes are not graphic so you'll still be okay. This is such a fluffy story, read it when you really need a pick me up!!
Read it here, fic by Cardinal_Daughter
#good omens#good omens fanfiction#good omens fanfic#fanfic rec#aziracrow#ineffable husbands#good omens fic rec#aziraphale x crowley#ineffable idiots#Barriers and the Breaking Thereof#Cardinal_Daughter#human au#parent#books au#plant au#wedding#Friends to lovers#safe in public#fluff#pick me up#one flame#faves of the blog#librarian au#flower shop au
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Tawnypelt should've had Brambleclaw's arc in TNP. Literally all she did was get bitten by a rat and almost die. Let my girl be important
#she also should've gotten the -claw suffix while bramble should've gotten -flower or -heart#rising flame#rising flame rewrite#warrior cats#warrior cats au#warrior cats rewrite#warriors rewrite#wc#wc rewrite#wc au
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Link loves to make drawings of him and his friends
#i made a link and now i was to make it into a game#link au#linked universe#link fanart#fire flower#my link#Zelda flower of the flaming heart
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New Story!
She was just trying to have a real life. A life where there were no summons, no war, no death… just… peace. A life she'd found in a tiny town under the shadow of a great mountain, with a man and 3 children that she loved enough to give up her immortality for. A life that is threatened when a summons comes from someone she cannot refuse and throws her into the middle of a story she never wanted to be a part of.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊
This is a Hobbit AU Fanfic and I am posting it here on A03 and here on Wattpad. The only reason I don't post on Tumblr is because I'm still not entirely sure how to make a Masterlist. This is my third BIG multific I've posted and I'm so proud of it, I hope you like it.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊
**My name on both those sights is different to this one so please don't think you're on the wrong page. My name on here used to be TatteredSoul_88 but I changed it for personal reasons.**
#the hobbit fanfiction#bard the bowman#bard#thorin and company#thranduil#legolas#tauriel#hobbit au#hobbit oc#fae oc#fire fae#bard's wife#hobbit fanfic#alternate universe#fanfic writer#multi chapter fic#the flower in the flame#Thorin being thorin#bard is daddy#Thranduil isn't a complete ass in this#legolas greenleaf#legolas is bestie#fili and kili#bofur#gandalf#gandalf being gandalf#and getting everyone caught up in bullshit#the fae#a03 fanfic#a03
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Why was dream given flowers by goose
Goosefeather was the only other seer at the time when Dreampaw was showing signs of being a seer.
Goosefeather didn’t have anyone to help him so he decided to lend a paw and help Dreampaw with his abilities.
Goosefeather’s powers are ever present, even more so when around Dreampaw so during his full naming ceremony he gave him a daisy the standard for a seer and a begonia.
It was definitely tense during that ceremony and that night.
#I like flower languages#tof: dreamsight#tof: goosefeather#brokenstar#brokentail#goosefeather#trail of flames au#warriors rewrite#warrior cats rewrite#warriors au#warrior cats au#asked and answered#anon ask
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prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 1; ghoap x reader) masterlist
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Johnny’s been bragging about a pretty bird lately.
Ghost listens because the periods between missions are long and colourless—he fills the time with paperwork, PT, exhausting his muscles in the gym, and dissociating in a booth at the only good pub on base when Johnny drags him along—and it’s better to tune out the thoughts in his head and replace them with something else. Besides, for as much as he gripes about poorly trained dogs barking too much, he enjoys the sound of Johnny’s voice. It quiets the faint ringing that follows him wherever he goes, an agitated humming that leaves him, on his best days, on the brink of rage.
“Tinnitus,” a doctor says when he brings it up during a routine check-up. Can you shut that fucking noise up?
“Best we can do is get you hearing aids.” Apologetic, sincere even. Stained, as always though, by a trembling, noxious unease. It emanates off the doctor in waves.
Hard not to feel uneasy around a man in a mask, Ghost assumes. That’s all part of it though. He doesn’t cultivate comfort, doesn’t attempt to engender soft feelings or put the mind at ease. His body and persona are designed to put the body and mind on the knife’s edge of fear, and then tip it over. He leaves the sweet talking and charming to men like Johnny, who babbles red language in a tongue like larkspur.
Ghost’s first language is oil slick. It stains and it covers and it darkens everything it touches.
And now, Johnny’s talking about a bird.
A couple months after Las Almas, the first picture comes out. Not a folded up keepsake tucked away in the pocket of a bag or a wallet or the inside of his jacket, but right on Johnny’s lockscreen on his phone. He disapproves at first glance. Not of the girl, but at the thought of keeping something so valuable on display for anyone to see. It’s not how he functions. Everything sacred is burned, destroyed, or—if precious enough—buried so deep underground that salt miners might greet it on the way down.
“Pretty, eh?” Johnny goads, nudging Ghost with his shoulder. He’s all wide grin, eyes electric-blue like the flames of Kawah Ijen.
She is pretty. Pretty as pie. Not a speck of grit or blood on her; if there’s any edge to her at all, it’s tempered by her smile in the photo on Johnny’s phone. A sugar sweet cunt, by the looks of it, sure it’d taste like candy if he got his mouth on it. He angles his eyes with Johnny’s lips and wonders how many times he’s eaten her out, if hers was the last cunt he ate. Likely. His boy’s the loyal kind, hard to shake off once he’s got his teeth in. Swapping spit or blood, he doesn’t leave once he’s got a taste.
“Where’d you find her?” he asks instead of agreeing, and takes a swig from the bottle in front of him. The bar’s hardly filled out yet; the two of them come early because Ghost’s an old man—that’s what Johnny would say—and doesn’t like to be around people once the sun’s set. It’s a burnished gold now, sun hovering low in the sky when Ghost turns an eye to it.
“Florist. Met her when I picked up flowers for mam’s birthday.”
Nearly a month then. “And I’m just hearin’ about this now?”
Not in this same pub three times a week since then. Not on the tarmac, suited up and sweating already beneath two layers of gear. Not in the shower beside Ghost’s, fingers reaching over the side for a bar of soap because Johnny can’t be arsed to get his own. Not with his head slumped to let Ghost shave the sides of his head nice and neat, thick fingers splayed over the delicate bone of his skull that Ghost knows would take nothing to break.
It rankles him until he looks back down at the phone in his hands—the one he’d plucked from Johnny’s fingers even while he whined about Ghost always stealing his shit—and feels his heartbeat slow. It levels out like staring into the scope of a rifle, the molecules of his breath melding with the molecules of the air until even the sound of his heartbeat dulls to the insects around him.
Johnny purses his lips. “…Wasn’t sure then. Am now.”
“Cunt’s a cunt. What’s there to be sure about?”
“No.” Johnny shakes his head vehemently. “She’s no’ like that. She’s special—I’m telling ye, Lt—” he stresses when Ghost snorts, the sound thick with scepticism, “—she’s a good egg. Smart one. Sweet as pie.”
Sweet as pie. Mutt half-shares his thoughts these days. They must have brought more home than just shellshock and keloids.
Johnny squawks when Ghost unlocks his phone and thumbs through his photos, trying to wrench it out of Ghost’s hand to no avail. He’s easy to hold back. All he has to do is put down his beer for a second and get a handful of hair and jerk, and there it is. Peace and quiet. A wince bleeding into his peripheral vision while Johnny mumbles something under his breath about him being a mean bastard.
He snorts again. Even from Johnny, he’s heard worse.
There isn’t much left of him these days. A tired husk and a taste for Guinness. He bleeds and shaves and wipes it off, smells the viscera still staining his mask that he hardly ever washes, can’t bear to honestly. Waste of fucking time, as far as he’s concerned. Just going to get dirtied again, soaked in blood again within the week. Shaves his head too just to have less to deal with, less to distract him from the single-minded intensity he brings to the job. He’d dematerialize if he could, become a ghost in name and shape, if only the laws of physics allowed.
Instead he’s saddled with a body that echoes back his age in creaking joints and low back pain. Scar tissue that aches when it gets cold.
In the months he’s known Johnny, he’s never let himself think about the world outside their bubble. His rank demands a certain level of socialising, and while he doesn’t schmooze with the brass like other lieutenants might, Ghost hardly has the privilege of isolating himself all the time, but still he can count the people he considers close on one hand.
Not family, but close. The thought of family is sheathed within him; he knows to leave the knife in lest he bleed. Still, Johnny’s fought his way onto the list and now he has to pay with his pound of flesh.
There’s a switch that’s been off for years, closer to a couple decades, and it flips back on when he finds this man that trusts him without question, that follows his orders and looks up at him with these big, puppy blue eyes. It twists something in his chest. It turns him into a thing that says maybe it’s better to take than just covet.
There are other photos of the girl in Johnny’s phone, some likely not meant for present company (Johnny flushes red when Ghost flips to a picture of his bird in a pretty little number, lace cupping her tits and ass, sitting on Johnny’s bed back home and looking back at him over her shoulder with a little grin). Still, it interests him to see this side of his boy; he’s maybe thought of it before in abstract terms. He knows that Johnny’s no stranger to a wandering eye, not with the way he’s built and his pretty boy face. He’s well acquainted with Johnny’s dick, hard not to be in such close quarters; it’s a nice, pretty thing, just like him, a good handful. Nothing like the ruddy battering ram in between Ghost’s legs. The one Johnny once got a glimpse of in the showers after a two week long stint in Kyrgyzstan and paled, mouth gaping open while he stared until he could finally laugh it off.
Ghost remembers thinking detachedly about how lovely that little gaped open mouth would feel around his cock.
Surprising that it took this long for him to cotton on to his own desires.
“Bring ‘er around then. I’ll see for myself how sweet she is.”
Johnny scowls at the sudden uproar from a nearby table. “No’ a chance in hell. Dinnae trust any of these fuckers to behave around her.”
Ghost hums. He’s not wrong to be wary; under the table, Ghost runs a hand over his bulge and gives it a squeeze, lifting his thigh to readjust. She has a lovely mouth too.
He’s been breathing fire and brimstone recently. Hungering to hear something break. It takes Johnny’s hand on his arm to hold him back, every cigarette puffed down to the filter. The pictures on Johnny’s phone make it seem easy though.
Johnny’s been bragging about a pretty bird lately, preening at every opportunity to show her off. He doesn’t know that it takes approximately eight seconds for Ghost’s brain to file the girl in Johnny’s phone under mine, slotting her right under Johnny in that category and isn’t that just perfect because it also takes approximately eight seconds for Ghost to imagine what she might look like under Johnny.
He hands Johnny back the phone, face down. “You get one week. Then I wanna meet your bird.”
#ceil writing#cod mw2#cod x reader#ghost/soap/reader#ghoap x reader#soap x reader#ghost x reader#ghost/reader#ghoap x you
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Title: Foxglove and Oleander.
Pairing: Yandere!Sukuna x Reader (JJK).
Word Count: 6.0k
Commissioned by the very lovely @letstalktea.
TW: Heian Era AU, Wildly Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Blood + Violence, Deliberate Manipulation, Obsessive Behavior, and Implied Cannibalism.
Sukuna first arrived the night your chrysanthemums bloomed.
That was the only reason you weren’t in the temple when the fire reached it. Against your better judgement and the wishes of your superiors, you’d committed yourself to spending the night in the courtyard, carefully monitoring each delicate bud as they slowly unfurled and stained your garden with scattered blotches of bright, bleeding scarlet. In the morning, it would be your responsibility to gather each flower, dry their petals, and deliver them to the temple’s healers to use as medicinal herbs before you were allowed to get to your less seasonal chores, but tonight, the chrysanthemum belonged to you.
From your little corner of the courtyard, you watched as flames climbed the side of the side of the mountain, consuming the forest that surrounded your home before latching onto the servants’ barracks, then the outer sanctuaries, before finally reaching the main body of the temple. There were a few screams to accompany the fire’s first arrival, but they were quickly drowned out by the fire’s deafening roar, by the sound of buildings already mostly burnt away collapsing into themselves and putting their unfortunate occupants out of their misery. You could feel the heat, hear the others begin to flee, but it was only as the fire reached the peak of its gluttony that he emerged, entirely unscathed and painted with the blood of those you supposed you may have cared about, if you’d had more time. Sukuna, although you wouldn’t know to call him by that name, just yet.
It went without saying that he was hideous. Too many limbs, too many eyes, too many mouths – every part of him distorted with bulk and muscle and ink. His teeth struck you first, bared and glinting in the blinding firelight, then his clothing, the tattered and charred remains of what appeared to be a once fine kimono tied around his waist. He was carrying a spear, but he drove it into the ground as he stepped out of the inferno. There was something slung over his shoulder, too – a corpse, male and burnt beyond the point of recognizability – but that was abandoned just as thoughtlessly, left to rot on the outskirts of your garden. You were glad. Your chrysanthemums wouldn’t survive being crushed by such dead weight.
He didn’t notice you immediately. You stayed where you were, kneeling in the dirt, as he turned in either direction, taking in the devastation with a full-chested laugh. The noise was, in kinship with his appearance, unspeakably gruesome.
Finally, he turned to face you, his eyes lighting up in spite of the stark shadows cast over his face. His spear was still within arm’s reach, but he made no attempt to retrieve it – holding out an open hand to you, instead. “Are you a monk or a maiden?” he asked, his voice more of a growl than anything proper, anything human. “I’ve already had my fill of the former, tonight.”
“A servant,” you answered, bowing your head by way of greeting. “I tend the gardens, among other things. Are you the one killing all the acolytes?”
“Among other things.” His tone had a mocking lilt, although he seemed far from vicious. You’d been warned about that, once, by someone very dear to you. You couldn’t remember the specifics, but the sentiment was still clear enough. ‘Do not fear the animal that bares its teeth, but the creature who lures you closer before it lunges’, or something like that. “I’m afraid I only have a taste for holy meat, tonight. Although, if you run, I’ll certainly take more enjoyment in striking you down.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but—”
“Lord,” he corrected. “Make that mistake again and it’ll be the last time I allow you the privilege of using your tongue.”
“My apologies, my lord.” Again, you bowed your head. “The high priest can be harsh with his discipline. My ankle is still healing, and I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to move quickly enough for either of us to get very much out of it.”
He grinned, and the fire raged on behind him. “Grovel, then. Perhaps, if you manage to please me, I’ll be merciful and kill you quickly.”
He was clearly a man (man? monster? beast?) of great ego. You pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth, trying to block out the taste of something harsh and acidic rising up from the back of your throat. “If it’s all the same to you,” you managed, eventually, sparing one last glance towards your chrysanthemums. They really were beautiful. You could only regret that you’d never get to see them in the light of day. “I’d really rather not. It seems like it be easier, to just… uh, let you get the job done, as it were.”
In his defense, his pride overshadowed his shock. That, or you simply weren’t the first person he’d met to pay your own life such little regard. “I’ve cut down braver men for bolder suggestions.”
“But you cut them down all the same.” You swallowed, dryly. It’d been a while since you’d last had anything to eat or drink – the better part of a day, at least – but you supposed you wouldn’t have to worry about that for much longer. “I’m sorry, my lord. I would try to run, but my ankle really does make things difficult.”
He regarded you for a moment, as yet another wing of the temple buckled under its own weight. You decided, as you stared back at him, that his eyes weren’t so terrible – the pair he was supposed to have, at least. Although currently narrowed and creased around the edges, they had a pleasant color, a unique shade of red that seemed to glow when it caught the firelight. At least one part of him was bearable to look at.
Finally, he broke the silence, his resonant voice taking on a more authoritative cadence. “Come.”
He didn’t extend a hand, or gesture for you to follow, only trekking onward – towards the temple’s gates, left open in the panic of the exodus. Gingerly, weary of your injured ankle, you pushed yourself to your feet and hastened to his side. Sukuna only paid you glance by way of acknowledgement, but you didn’t mind. “Are you going to kill me in the woods, instead?”
“Uraume’s been asking for another set of hands.” You weren’t sure what he was talking about, but you nodded as if you understood entirely. He spared you a small, thoughtless smile, and you decided that he was also the type of man who often enjoyed the luxury of never being questioned. “If they don’t care for you, I’ll kill you wherever I wish.”
“Ah.” You passed under the temple gates by his side. Not long after that, you heard the great crash of stone into earth, and knew that those, too, had collapsed. “I hope it’s somewhere with lots of flowers. I’ve always wanted to die somewhere beautiful.”
His only answer was another, more lingering glance in your direction, a low bark of a laugh. Satisfied, you let the conversation lapse into silence and walked into the night by the side of a monster.
~
“How do you choose where to go?”
He didn’t respond, not immediately. Instead, one of his spare hands brought yet another grape to your lips, and with a pleased hum, you accepted it, savoring the sour tinge that accompanied the sweetness. From what you gathered, he preferred savory to sweetness, sweetness to bitterness, and bitterness to all other flavors that followed. He rarely ate anything that wasn’t the strange, ambiguous meat prepared by Uraume, his ever-smiling mastress of rituals, but the last village you’d passed through had a surplus of fruit. It’d seemed like a waste to let all of it rot, now that there was no one left to enjoy it.
It was strange – traveling with Sukuna and Uraume. They seemed to be on a pilgrimage of sorts, the destination unknown and the purpose one of endless carnage. Not that either of them expected you to participate in the devastation. No, as far as you could tell, you were regarded more as a servant, meant to be of aid to Sukuna when Uraume was otherwise occupied. Except, Uraume never seemed to be very occupied at all, and Sukuna very rarely needed aid, and you were often left in a position more akin to that of a pet than anything else – kept around predominantly because Sukuna found it entertaining to do so. Not that you minded. Pets were cherished and coddled. Pets never went hungry. Pets weren’t expected to be anything other than endearing and obedient, which wasn’t totally dissimilar to the things you were always expected to be, regardless of what you were supposed to call yourself.
Currently, you were taking shelter in an abandoned shrine not quite dilapidated enough to be considered unlivable, Uraume tending the hearth while Sukuna stared absent-mindedly at a map pilfered from the shine’s stockroom, the colored ink nearly too faded to read. You paid little mind to either of them – content enough to remain sprawled across Sukuna’s lap, one of his arms wrapped loosely around your waist. This was the first time you’d spoken in minutes, reluctant to break the comfortable silence. Sukuna didn’t seem to mind the sound of your voice, and you didn’t want that to change. “I don’t,” he admitted, eventually. He only spoke for himself, but it was given that you and Uraume would follow. “I go where I please. I only like to know that, when I arrive, there’ll be something worth my time waiting to receive me.”
“So particular, my lord.” You felt something tap against your bottom lip, and opened your mouth to accept a perfectly sweet, perfectly ripe strawberry. “Tell me, then – what would please you?”
He seemed to think for a long moment. Finally, he asked, “What village were you born to?”
His intention went unspoken, but the implication was clear. Sukuna’s sole pastime was destruction, with the target of his ire being any person, town, or creature unfortunate enough to cross his path. Although you’d never seen him go out of his way to find prey before, you were sure willingly pointing him in the direction of vulnerable quarry would result in a predictable outcome.
“Oh, I wouldn’t know. Things like that can be so hard to remember,” you said, which wasn’t untrue. Your memory was a fickle thing – uncooperative on your best days and deliberately misleading on your worst. “You know, being a baby at the time and all.”
His fingers drummed thoughtfully against your side. “You must have family somewhere, servant.”
“Not necessarily.” You shut your eyes to stop yourself from squirming, sighing as you rested your head against his shoulder. “My parents abandoned me before I was old enough to learn their names. A scrap collector took me in some time after that, but he traveled quite often, and I lost track of him years ago.” You paused, shook your head. “Like I said, things like this can be difficult to remember. I’m sorry, my lord.”
There was a slight hum, a momentary lapse. Abruptly, you felt his hands shift to your waist, Sukuna repositioning your smaller form with all of the strength and all of the thought it might’ve taken an ordinary person to right a toppled-over doll. Your back came to rest against his chest as one of his spare hands cupped your chin, directing your attention towards the yellowed map. “Pick somewhere,” he muttered, his voice low and his lips close enough to ghost over the shell of your ear. “Anywhere. Before I pull your unhelpful little tongue out of your throat.”
“Of course, my lord.” Acquiesce came first, a real answer second. Your gaze fell to the map in front of you. It took a second, but you found what you were looking for quickly enough. “Here,” you said, pointing to an area north of your current location. “There’s a village in the eastern corner of this valley with a small population of young farmers and very little in the way of redeeming qualities. But, in the town square, there grows a cherry blossom tree tall enough to scrap against the belly of the sky with branches that stretch as far as the eye can seem. When it blooms, its petals are great enough in volume to carpet the surrounding acre in pink.” You straightened your back, decisively avoiding sinking back into his chest. “I… I wouldn’t mind visiting it again, if it would please my lord.”
It was a dangerous thing to do – showing your hand so plainly. You’d grown so used to keeping your cards tucked snuggly against your chest, even talking this openly felt as if you’d been stripped bare and put on exhibition in front of him.
But, if Sukuna realized that he was the audience to your performer, he neglected to acknowledge it. He only looked toward Uraume, who perked to attention immediately. They were good at that – pretending not to listen. Not as talented as you, of course, but good nonetheless. “We start traveling east tomorrow,” he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m adding another leg to our journey.”
His primary attention remained on them, but a few of his unblinking secondary eyes – repulsive in their lack of necessity – darted to you, watching for any signs of satisfaction, of pleasure. You only schooled your expression, retreating into your own mind to count the days until the cherry blossoms bloomed.
~
It took a surprising amount of time for you to catch Uraume in the act. Not overly long, but more time than you would’ve expected with them making no particular effort to hide the evidence of their ‘ritual preparation’ and you making no exceptional attempt to avoid finding out why their snow-white sleeves were so often stained red. If allowed to, you might’ve gone on living in the bliss of plausible deniability until your time with Sukuna and his chosen companionship came to an end, but he was not so kind, and there was little entertainment to be had in such a passive participant.
Still, you would’ve liked another week, another month, another season. You’d never cared for kitchens, but you cared for them least when they reeked of rotting meat.
The stench was almost worse than the sight – almost, but not quite. Then again, you were struggling to think of something worse than Uraume, all practiced tranquility and iced-over smiles, elbow-deep in the cavity a long dead middle-aged man, his body bare and spread over the stone countertop. You recognized him not by his face, but by his features – his wealth-fattened face, his uncalloused hands, the lack of definition to his legs that those who toiled could rarely afford to go without. He must’ve been the lord who owned the palace you currently found yourself residing in – a sprawling, decadent structure that it’d taken hours to clean after the massacre. Sukuna would survive wherever his whims lead, but he preferred to be comfortable. You didn’t mind. You preferred it when Sukuna was comfortable, too.
It was clear they hadn’t been expecting you, either. Their dark eyes bored into you where you lingered in the doorway, a wicker basket on your hip and your robes still dusted with soil. Most of your day had been spent in the palace gardens. Its former caretaker had planted their shiso along the garden wall, where it would only receive partial sun in the best season – a common enough mistake, for how easy it was to mistake for basil, and a tricky one to correct. An experienced caretaker should’ve known better, but as the herbs were still alive while their keeper was very much not, you could consider their negligence repaid.
You made the first move –bowing at the waist by way of greeting. “Lord Sukuna asked me to fetch his tea,” you explained, as you straightened your back. You didn’t feel the need to mention that’d he’d sought you out in your gardens to do so. “I thought I’d bring you a few herbs in the same trip. My apologies, it wasn’t my intention to disturb you.”
The corner of their lips quirked downward. It wasn’t quite a frown, but it was the closest thing to one that you’d ever earned from them. You weren’t upset. Even glowering, they would’ve been breath-taking. “He wanted you to see my—” They paid a glance toward the dismembered lord, their arm still buried in his chest. “My preparations.”
“It would seem so.”
“And he wanted to know how you’d react. There’s a good chance he’ll ask me about this, later on.”
“I’d say it’s more of a certainty.”
“I’d understand it, if you wanted to leave. I know there are few ordinary humans who can stomach tasks so—” Another pause, this one longer than the first. Clearly, they were making an attempt to watch their tongue. “—needlessly visceral.”
“If I did try, how long would you give me before telling Sukuna?” This time, they choose to hold their tongue entirely, their slight frown deepening into a full-blown scowl. It took everything you had not to let your own satisfaction shine through.
Rather, you paid them another shallow bow before the threshold and setting down your basket on the nearest length of empty counter. “It’s mostly shiso, but I found some usable ginger and garlic, too, and a few stalks of parsley. Is there anything I can do to help?”
After a moment of consideration, Uraume shook their head. It only took a few minutes to make the tea you’d been sent to fetch, but they were minutes passed in silence, undisturbed save for the quiet chime of ceramic against ceramic. They didn’t start their own work again until you’d left the kitchen entirely, which you were thankful for. They’d been right. There were few humans with stomachs so strong as to withstand such grisly tasks, and you’d never counted yourself among them.
Sukuna had claimed the master’s chambers for himself, of course. You let yourself in without knocking, immediately finding Sukuna sprawled across the wonderfully ornate futon that dominated most of the floorspace. He smiled when he saw you, but his expression fell as soon as you returned the gesture.
He didn’t mention Uraume, or the kitchens, or the thick stench of iron-tinged blood that now seemed to fill every corner of the vast estate. You hummed as you poured his tea, and remained at his bedside as he took a long drink, followed shortly by an approving nod. You tried to make your escape quickly, already fantasizing about retreating back to your secluded garden, but Sukuna caught you before you could so much as turn towards the door. “Attend to what you must,” he started, his tone simultaneously dismissive and attention-seeking. “But return here, when you’re done. Bring your belongings, too – you won’t be going back to your bedroom again.”
You didn’t falter, but not for lack of reason to. You’d chosen your bedroom carefully, surveyed the better half of the residential wing before finding quarters that suited you. It was sparse by way of comforts and furniture, but the sole window looked over the mountainside, the landscape stretching on for miles upon miles without interruption. You would’ve been pressed to think of a finer view.
“As you wish.” And then, with a chirp of a laugh, “You know, we spend so much time with one another while traveling. I thought you would’ve taken our stationary periods as an excuse to get away from Uraume and I.”
“If I had a weaker will, maybe.” He reclined, let his head lull to the side, as if inviting you to counter, to protest – or worse, to step closer. “Why? Do you have something to say, servant?”
“Only how pleased I am to be of service to my lord.” You could’ve bowed, but decided against it. This time, when you took your leave, Sukuna was kind enough not to get in your way. Then again, he didn’t have a reason to.
He must’ve known that you were always going to come back.
~
“Who gave you permission to leave, servant?”
No one, but you’d hoped he wouldn’t notice until you were already gone. Stifling the urge to cringe, you turned on your heel and retreated back to the riverbank, not far from where Sukuna had left his robes, deliberately keeping your eyes on the ground. He rarely let you leave his side, but having you remain within eyeshot while he bathed was a newer development – and a tricker one to justify to yourself, at that. You were still allowed to remain more of a voyeur than a participant, but you weren’t naive enough to believe that he’d allow there to be such a great distance between you for much longer.
“I’m sorry, my lord.” Your eyes may have been downcast, but your voice was a light and as upbeat as ever. “I only hoped to catch Uraume before they finished. Servants have to bathe too, you know, and those of us with no limbs to spare can be rather hesitant to do so alone so deep into the forest.”
“Join me, then.”
Ah.
You should’ve been expecting that, honestly. You had no one but yourself to blame.
“My lord,” you managed with an airy laugh, feigning disbelief. “I’m just not sure if someone of my position should—”
Considering Sukuna’s size, he could move impressively fast. You’d only managed to take half a step back before you felt a hand curling around your wrist, pulling you off of the bank and into the river. You managed to take all of two stumbling steps forward before your foot caught on a slick river stone and you fell to your knees, ice-cold water immediately soaking through your thin robes. Sukuna made no effort to catch you, laughing as you tripped over yourself. He’d always seemed terrible to you, but you couldn’t remember the sound of his voice ever being so vile.
Biting back a sigh or some other, more telling show of displeasure, you started to push yourself to your feet, but stopped as soon as you felt Sukuna’s fist curl around your collar, another finding the back of your head. In a brief moment of blissful obliviousness, you thought he meant to help you – or, to restrain you and savor your humiliation for a few seconds longer, at the very worst. You almost thanked him, as little as your gratitude meant to Sukuna.
Then, your head was forced below the water, and you thought better of it.
It happened too suddenly to brace yourself. Your first reaction, operating purely out of instinct, was to open your mouth and try to breathe in – an idea as primal as it was unhelpful. Frigid water flooded into your mouth, your throat, liberating you from any amount of air you might’ve been able to hold onto and filling the now-vacant space with a chill that seemed to bite into your throat and leave everything it touched throbbing, numb. Your second was to thrash against Sukuna’s hold – which was, predictably, equally as useless. He was stronger than you could ever hope to be, than any real human being ever should be. Thick fingers threaded themselves into your hair, the hand holding the collar of your robes falling away only to find the nape of your neck, cementing your place at his mercy.
You tried to be rational, to exhale, to not panic, but something thick and solid seemed to be lodged at the base of your throat, and you couldn’t think about breathing without choking, and it was hard not to panic when you were hyper-aware that you were going to be drowned in some godforsaken river in some heartless forest at the hands of an unlovable monster. You were running out of air too quickly – you were supposed to have more time. He couldn’t have dragged you down any longer than a minute ago, but you could already feel an acute throbbing in your temples, make out dark spots dancing in the corners of your vision. Your body thrashed and stiffened in turns, but it was only when your form went limp in his hold that Sukuna jerked you back to the surface – hauling you back to the shore and letting you collapse onto the welcoming sand. He stood by, his grin the embodiment of mirth, as you hacked up acid-tinged water and blinked back tears, sucking in shallow breaths between coughing fits. Every inhale left your chest tense and aching, though, and every exhale felt like you were giving up something precious, something irreplaceable. You did your best to ignore the strain, to put it out of your mind. You had a feeling it would be some time before you could breathe painlessly again.
It took long, agonizing minutes for you to so much as begin to recover, but Sukuna remained by your side, waiting patiently. At some point, he lowered himself to your height – falling into a crouch and bringing a hand up to your back, rubbing circles into the apex of your spine as you coughed and clawed at the shore. He didn’t hum, or speak, or apologize, but you hadn’t expected him to. To initiate would be to taint what he sought so violently: your reaction. He wouldn’t do anything to spoil his prize, not so close to victory.
No, he wouldn’t dare.
The responsibility of denying him fell solely to you.
“My—”You tried to raise your head, to look at him, only to cut yourself off – another lungful of brackish water forcing its way past your lips before you could find your voice again. “My lord,” you managed, eventually. “If you’d like to bathe together, please give me a moment to undress, first. You know how long it can take cotton to dry.”
To his credit, his composure held. There was another throaty laugh, a sudden edge to his smile. “You should be more careful, songbird. One day, I’m going to eat you alive, and your last words to me are going to how glad you are to serve your master one last meal.”
“There would be no greater honor.” You managed an unsteady smile before dropping your head low, curling into yourself, and coughing up until your throat burnt and your rib cage seemed ready to burst. Sukuna only shook his head, taking you by the shoulders and leaning you against his chest, ensuring your stability before his attention shifted to your robes. With a surprising delicacy, he undid the sash bound around your waist, shrugging off your ruined yukata and carrying you back into the water. Your nails bit into his chest, but if he felt your involuntary resistance, it wasn’t enough to deter him.
Your body was lowered gingerly into one of the river’s shallower portions, and Sukuna kneeled behind you, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek. You shut your eyes, but you could still feel his thumb tracing idly over your cheek, his chest reverberating against your back as he all but purred in delight. “I could hear your heart racing as I pushed you under.” And then, with a feather-light kiss to the top of your head, “It’s a relief to know there’s at least one part of you I can trust to be honest with me.”
You didn’t answer – only smiling as you melted into his palm.
~
The cherry blossom tree was larger than you’d remembered.
The village that surrounded it had grown, too. That made sense – it’d been years since you last passed through this area, and such a lovely corner of the world was bound to attract merchants and traveling warriors and those who, like yourself, simply found themselves drawn to beautiful things. You’d been able to see its wonderous branches rising above the horizon days before you were supposed to reach the village, started catching sakura petals on the breeze while you were still hours away from the nearest scrap of civilization, and a small part of you died upon being told that you would have to wait until after sunrise for your reunion, until Sukuna had finished glutting himself on blood and death and misery. Not that you listened. Uraume was tasked with looking after you, but they weren’t difficult to slip away from. They seemed to be fond of you – or, at least, surprisingly sympathetic to their master’s newest pet. Either way, they let you go without much of a struggle.
An hour or so after midnight, you made your way through fleeing crowds, maneuvering around mounds of disembodied extremities and between flame-eaten farmhouses, still in the early stages of burning down. Wherever Sukuna went, the fire seemed to follow, so you tried to stay where the light seemed the dimmest, where the smoke seemed the thinnest, focused solely on finding your way to the center of town – to the cherry blossom. You couldn’t make out its silhouette against the pitch-black landscape, but you didn’t need to. You would’ve been able to find your way to it on instinct alone.
That being said, now that you stood before it, you found it hard to believe that you’d come to the right village, let alone the right tree.
You didn’t remember your cherry blossom looking quite so… absent.
It was as if some great and wrathful deity had broken your sakura off at the base and spirited its body away, leaving only a charred stump behind. There was evidence that there had been more, at some point – pale pink petals littering the ground, a rope fence that had to have once guarded more than desecrated remains – but the cherry blossom was gone, as the village built around it would be by sunrise. It was cruel, really, when you could put your own despair aside long enough to use such tame vernacular. It was monstrous.
Speaking of monsters – yours was quick to rear his ugly head.
He’d never looked more terrible. Ash tainted the pale color of his hair, blood and gore staining his chest, his face, his hands. As always, he carried no weapon, and as always, he was entirely uninjured, untouched save for the byproduct of the devastation he’d wrought. You watched him approach in your peripheral, bracing yourself a moment before four arms wrapped around your smaller body and pulled you into a stone-hard chest. You knew better than to attempt to resist Sukuna, but this might have been the first time you were tempted to try.
“Songbird,” he muttered, the petname salt to a fresh wound. If he was surprised, let alone angry that you’d snuck away from Uraume, your disobedience caused him no strife. “I come bearing gifts.”
The upper of his two left hands uncurled, revealing a long, stick-like object. A hairpin, you realized, after a moment, the prong of a fine dark mahogany. It boasted only a single ornament: a small, expertly made glass flower. A cherry blossom, to be more specific.
You’d never been quick to anger. For as long as you could remember, in fact, you’d never found yourself angered by much of anything before.
You tasted blood before you realized you were biting your tongue; swallowing back a scream, or howl, or some other unsightly noise. It took you longer than you would’ve liked to regain your composure, but Sukuna was preoccupied, his attention dedicated solely to burying his face in the crook of your neck, to clutching onto you so tightly, you had to wonder how he’d ever managed to let go. It’d been inane to ever compare yourself to a pet, to something so cherished. It’d been inane to ever believe you were anything more than the favored plaything of a drooling, overgrown mutt.
With trembling hands, you plucked the hairpin out of his palm and held it up appraisingly. When Sukuna raised his head, his pointed teeth still lingering against your throat, you did the only thing you could think to – smiling as you leaned into him. “It’s beautiful.” And then, with a sigh, “It’s only a shame to have missed the real thing.”
For all of Sukuna’s faults, you could only be thankful that pride was among them.
“You don’t have to worry.” A hand found your jaw, holding you in place as he pressed a kiss into your temple. “I had more than my fill before you arrived.”
As you watched the village burn in his arms, you thought only of the color of chrysanthemums and the taste of iron, heavy on your tongue.
~
Someone had told you, once, that all the loveliest flowers bloomed under moonlight.
You watched the sky as you waited – your eyes never leaving the sliver of it you could see through small, barred window built into the opposing wall. He’d taken you to another vacant temple, tonight, claimed the head priest’s chambers as his den, and you’d followed lovingly, never uttering so much as a word of complaint. You’d let him rest his head in your lap, raked your fingers through his hair, and brought a cask of sweet wine laced with bitter herbs to his lips whenever he threatened to stir. Eventually, his eyes eased shut, his pulse slowing and his expression dulling into something calm, something docile. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve started to doubt that he was a monster at all.
You didn’t move, didn’t shift, didn’t make a run for the door. You only reached into your sleeve, fetching the cherry blossom hairpin he’d gifted you weeks ago, now, the hairpin you carried dutifully ever since. You waited for him to turn onto his side, revealing the unarmored half of his face, before aligning the pointed tip with his ear, raising it above your head, and plunging it—
You felt his fingers dig into your thigh, another hand latching onto your hip. Your back slammed into the stiff futon with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs – leaving you breathless and paralyzed in an instant. When you recovered enough to think, you found Sukuna above you, straddling your waist, a hand planted on either side of your head. He was breathing heavily, as if excited. You knew it was impossible, but you found yourself wishing that he’d find a way to regurgitate his own lungs and choke on them.
“My lord,” you started, each word measured. You were careful to keep your voice low, your smile perfectly saccharine. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”
His response was a manic smile, a bark of a laugh. “It’s too late to play innocent.” He lowered himself that much closer to you, his chest a hair’s width from making contact with yours. “How many times have you poisoned my wine, songbird?”
“Poisoned? Never.” You’d let go of your hairpin in the collision. Currently, it was lying against the wall to your right – just an inch or so out of your reach. There were other, more accessible weapons closer to you, but if you were going to kill Sukuna, you wanted it to be with that abomination. “If my lord is asking how many times I’ve treated his wine with herbs and spices, then twice. Once to see how he handled his drink, and tonight.”
You’d done him a disservice – writing him off as simply monstrous. He was more beast-like than anything, with his back arched and his talons dug into the bedding, with eyes so wide and so vibrant you believed, if only for a second, that he would manage to burn holes through your skull. “A day will come,” His anticipation was palpable. It was a wonder how such a glutton could ever sound so starved. “Where nothing will fall from you sweet lips but my praises, and I will know beyond the shadow of a doubt that you mean every last word.”
For once, you could only say what you meant. “I’d rather fucking die.”
There was a change to his animal posture, a glint of white teeth in moonlight, and then his mouth was crashing into yours – all fangs and tongue and intensity. Mindlessly, operating off of your own sort of base impulse, you reached out, your fingertips just barely brushing against the prong of your hairpin.
It was only as you curled your fist around it that you kissed him back, unable to suppress your grin.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jjk imagines#yandere jjk#yandere sukuna#sukuna x reader
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When you need to declare your love to your wife but it is so strong you can't help but revert back to french.
You know the perk of being french ? I can write Rook rambling haha !
(Though I am incapable of writing poetry, so here is the poem I used and its approximate translation:
Je respire où tu palpites,
Tu sais ; à quoi bon, hélas !
Rester là si tu me quittes,
Et vivre si tu t'en vas ?
(I breathe where you throb, you know ;
What for, alas! stay here if you leave me, and live if you go away?)
A quoi bon vivre, étant l'ombre
De cet ange qui s'enfuit ?
A quoi bon, sous le ciel sombre,
N'être plus que de la nuit ?
(What good is living, being the shadow of this fleeing angel?
What for, under the dark sky, being from the night only?)
Je suis la fleur des murailles
Dont avril est le seul bien.
Il suffit que tu t'en ailles
Pour qu'il ne reste plus rien.
(I am the flower of your walls for which April is the only good.
You only need to leave for me to be left with nothing.)
Tu m'entoures d'Auréoles;
Te voir est mon seul souci.
Il suffit que tu t'envoles
Pour que je m'envole aussi.
(You surround me with Halos;
I care only about seeing you.
You need only to take flight for me to fly too.)
Si tu pars, mon front se penche ;
Mon âme au ciel, son berceau,
Fuira, dans ta main blanche
Tu tiens ce sauvage oiseau.
(Should you leave, my front/forehead shall lean ;
My soul in the sky, its cradle, will flee,
In your white hand you hold this wild bird.)
Que veux-tu que je devienne
Si je n'entends plus ton pas ?
Est-ce ta vie ou la mienne
Qui s'en va ? Je ne sais pas.
(What would I become, should I not hear your steps anymore?
Is it your life or mine that is fleeing ?
I cannot tell?)
Quand mon orage succombe,
J'en reprends dans ton coeur pur ;
Je suis comme la colombe
Qui vient boire au lac d'azur.
(When my thunder dies down, I take some from your pure heart ;
I am like the dove that just drank in the azur lake.)
L'amour fait comprendre à l'âme
L'univers, salubre et béni ;
Et cette petite flamme
Seule éclaire l'infini
(Love makes the soul understand the universe, healthful and blessed ;
And this lonely little flame shines upon the endless)
Sans toi, toute la nature
N'est plus qu'un cachot fermé,
Où je vais à l'aventure,
Pâle et n'étant plus aimé.
(Without you, all of nature is only a closed cell where I go on an adventure,
Pale and no longer beloved.)
Sans toi, tout s'effeuille et tombe ;
L'ombre emplit mon noir sourcil ;
Une fête est une tombe,
La patrie est un exil.
(Without you, everything falls apart ;
Shadows fill my dark eyebrow ;
A feast/party is a tomb,
The homeland is an exile.)
Je t'implore et réclame ;
Ne fuis pas loin de mes maux,
O fauvette de mon âme
Qui chantes dans mes rameaux !
(I beg and demand ;
Do not flee any longer from my pain,
O warbler of my soul who sings in my twigs!)
De quoi puis-je avoir envie,
De quoi puis-je avoir effroi,
Que ferai-je de la vie
Si tu n'es plus près de moi ?
(What could I want?
What could I be afraid of?
What would I do of life without you by my side?)
Tu portes dans la lumière,
Tu portes dans les buissons,
Sur une aile ma prière,
Et sur l'autre mes chansons.
(You carry in the light,
You carry in the bushes,
On a wing my prayers,
On the other my songs.)
Que dirai-je aux champs que voile
L'inconsolable douleur ?
Que ferai-je de l'étoile ?
Que ferai-je de la fleur ?
(What will I tell to the fields that hide my inconsolable pain?
What would I do of the star?
What would I do of the flower?)
Que dirai-je au bois morose
Qu'illuminait ta douceur ?
Que répondrai-je à la rose
Disant : " Où donc est ma soeur ?"
(What will I tell to the morose forest that illuminated your softness?
What will I answer at the rose asking "Where is my sister?")
J'en mourrai ; fuis, si tu l'oses.
A quoi bon, jours révolus !
Regarder toutes ces choses
Qu'elle ne regarde plus ?
(I would die ;
Flee if you dare.
What is the point, days gone! of looking at all those she no longer looks at?)
Que ferai-je de la lyre,
De la vertu, du destin ?
Hélas ! et, sans ton sourire,
Que ferai-je du matin ?
(What would I do of the lyre, of virtue, of destiny?
Alas! And, without your smile,
What would I do of the morning?)
Que ferai-je, seul, farouche,
Sans toi, du jour et des cieux,
De mes baisers sans ta bouche,
Et de mes pleurs sans tes yeux !
(What would I do, alone, wild, without you, of days and heavens,
Of my kisses without your lips,
And of my tears without your eyes!)
Il suffit que tu t'envoles pour que je m'envoles aussi - Victor Hugo
(You need only take flight for me to fly too))
#mello's drawings#rookvil#rook hunt#vil schoenheit#epel felmier#pomefiore#twisted wonderland#twst#art#my art#victor hugo
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uhhhhh can i rq fem reader x fallen angel arlecchino with virgin reader giving into temptation. also they do it in a church. on the altar.
Ngl anon you cooked with this request. But just for clarification: I will write this fic based on teyvats beliefs, NOT actual beliefs! Which means that reader will be a follower of Celestia/the Heavenly Principles, just to make this clear! I will not write stories based on reallife religions, beliefs, etc.
I‘ll repeat: this work is NOT based off of any religions, I purely made every single stuff up with the guidance of canon Teyvat Lore.
pairing: fallen angel!arlecchino x fem!reader
context: anon request!
cw: kind of an au, loss of virginity, hands down filthy sesbian lex, degrading, worship, arle fucking you out of pure spite for the divine, CONSENSUAL OFC.
NSFW utc, MDNI!
Your bare footsteps echoed through the wide halls, the colorful mosaic paintings being dimly lit by the surrounding candles as you made your way to the altar. A golden decorated podest, roses and other precious flowers being neatly aligned on the marble.
But that’s the least you could do for them. For the Ursurper. The one who came Second. On the day of their awakening you shall not be standing on their wrong side. Why should you? You‘ve been nothing but a devoted follower.
Regular sacrifices, dailiy prayers filling your routine along with one ritual being performed on each new moon.
And tonight there was no moon to illuminate your facial features as you slowly came to a stop in front of the altar, feet already numb from the stinging cold of the tiles on which this church was built upon.
It was a lonely, almost abandoned looking building at the top of a mountain with barely any visitors. Except for you. You made sure to keep the floor polished and the altar decorated with all kinds of goods that would perhaps please the divine. The colorful windows displaying a beautiful pattern made of all the colors you‘d find in a rainbow if the sun dared to light up the sacred mountaintop.
Todays ritual was no different.
With your hands neatly folded in lap and your eyes closed, the prayer started to fall from your lips like a waterfall. You knew every verse by heart, could recite every ritual down to the smallest detail. Quite the devoted follower, are you not?
But during your reciting you failed to notice the candles you so neatly arranged around the cathedral slowly getting put one by one until the last flame was finally extinguished when you opened your eyes again, darkness quickly engulfing you.
For a moment your heart set out until the excitement came rushing back in.
Did your efforts finally pay off? Where you finally heard? It has got to be a sign- there was no way that-
clap.
clap.
clap.
„All these efforts… only for the Divine to look down on you.“, a low, female voice ripping through the silence, „Say… would you water a sprout if you knew that it would never grow up into a tree? Causing your deeds to drown in vain… all the time, tears and sweat you put into watering the seedling, just to get ignored. Tossed aside.“, but when you sprung up on your feet to look around- there was nobody in sight.
„Show yourself-! Who are y-”, the scream leaving your throat was muffled by the hand closing around your mouth.
„My identity….? Such a curious thing, aren’t you? My lordship surely got themselves a sweet treat with you.“, the word lordship was laced with enough hatred to fuel a fire in the depths of the abyss, sending a shiver right down your spine.
„Lordship…?“, you didn’t dare to take a look over your back to face the unknown, instead your eyes wandered up to the statue of the Heavenly Principles or rather what they embody.
The cluster of stars that have been hammered into the crystal before you with a singular eye placed in the middle was silently analyzing you. Judging you. Whenever you stood right in this very spot for longer than anticipated, you‘d get the weird gut feeling that something might be wrong, might be watching. It creeped you out even after so many years of praying to the Heavens, that you just got used to it.
„Surely, you wouldn’t like to spend the rest of your life praying to an uncaring and corrupt deity. Or are you as naive and… innocent as you truly look?“, slender hands snaked around your waist, tugging you back against the strangers chest. As touch deprived as you were- goodness, it did some things with your pussy.
Fuck, she was tall.
„What… What do you know about the Second who came? A-A bitter soul you must be…“, yet you didn’t try to wiggle out of the tight grip of her arms when her sharp nails ran over your stomach that was still covered by the silken robe of yours.
Yes, being a devoted follower meant following certain rules. For example to not engage yourself in any kind of intimacy. Ever. No hugging. No holding hands. No kissing. No sex. But in all honesty you were a sucker for physical affection, not being allowed to even hug your loved ones on special days always nagged at your heart but you couldn’t- you mustn’t disappoint them. A non-negotiable deal.
„A bitter soul? You are not quite wrong with that, doll… what if I told you that your…“, her hot breath suddenly tickled the shell of your ear, „Ursurper is nothing but a coward? A coward feasting off on the hopes of the likes of you. Draining you. Laughing at you. Your efforts were doomed from the very beginning. But…“, slowly, the fabric of your cloth was tugged to the side, exposing your bare body to the cold atmosphere surrounding you.
A gasp left your mouth.
You forgot that the ritual from earlier required you to wear nothing underneath your robe. There wasn’t a specific reason since it was a solo act. That‘s just how it was written down.
„…but it is not too late for you to turn around and start over. To forget how you wasted the past years of your life for nothing in return.“, her words were strengthened by a soft, gentle kiss being placed right behind your ear, the touch forcing you to press your legs together. To try to ignore how the wetness wasn’t stopping to form between them.
Turn around and start over?
How?
The Ursurper has been the sole center of your life for the past decade. You woke up for them. Ate for them. Prayed for them. Sacrificed for them. Breathed for them.
Lived for them.
„I… I-I can’t- I-… th-they wouldn’t want me to turn away from them- to commit a sin in their name- th-that‘s not what they would have wan- Hah…!“, the hand sneaking between your legs came straight from hell itself. Knowing exactly how to glide her fingers in between your slickness, how much pressure to apply on the soft bundle of nerves, in which speed she should circle them over it.
„Is it truly a sin if it feels so good? Is this truly what you would consider defying the laws of the Divine? Look up at them and give me an answer.“
You couldn’t help but push your hips further into her hand, grinding them back and forth over her digits. You didn’t know what this mysterious woman looked like. Neither did you care. But what you did care about was this sinking feeling in your stomach when your eyes found the statue in front of you again.
Guilt.
How could you throw all of your hard work away for five minutes of thrilling ecstasy? What has gotten into you?
„I… n-no… th-this isn’t right… but… o-oh god fuck…“, your need for satisfaction was slowly starting to outweigh the guilty feelings. She was right. How could something feeling this good be considered a sin? Maybe it was a mistranslation from the old books? Maybe this was actually supposed to be a holy message to the heavens.
The stare looming over you felt now more heavier than ever as your hips were now practically fucking the woman’s hand, trying to catch that desired high, to maybe force whoever gods were sitting in the castle high above the ground to pay their attention to you.
„“This isn’t right“, yet you are practically using my hand for your own satisfaction. Didn’t they teach you some manners during all those years of useless worship?“, the sentence came out in a low groan, forcing you to bend over the altar which you swiped clean of any decorations beforehand.
The sound of fabric being ripped echoed through the cathedral.
Then you felt the chilly air ghosting over your wetness, forcing goosebumps to form on your skin as she practically pushed you down on the cold stone like you‘re supposed to be the next sacrifice.
Maybe you were.
Maybe you were going to be the next sacrifice by the way her next words reached your ears in a soft purr, „My, My… such a sweet lamb letting me bend her all the way over. I‘m not sure your lovely god would enjoy this sight. One of their most loyal acolytes just giving into her former Angel of Death like that…“.
The air around you stilled.
Angel of Death?
Goodness. You were in such deep shit.
A stranger would’ve been better than whatever she was.
There was little to no information about her, Arlecchino. The Primordial Ones deathbringer. It was all old tales dating back way before the Archon War, something about her being the Ursurper‘s executioner after they emerged victorious against the Sovereigns.
But something must’ve happened between the two of them for the Angel of Death to betray her superior by stepping into the destruction of Khaenri‘ah from 500 years ago.
The only witnesses to tell the tale died in the following impact from Arlecchino‘s punishment.
Therefore no records of her consequences exist.
„According to your silence, you are very much aware of who I am. That makes things easier for me. Now where were we again….? Ah… right…“, pressing her throbbing tip against your already soaked cunt earned herself a sharp gasp, „I wanted to show you just how much they really care about you. Surely, they would care about me tainting your purity with my cum, right?“.
„A-Ah-! I… I-I don’t know, I- ngh��.“, Holy. She was big compared to your tight pussy.
Never once did you dare to pleasure yourself, too scared about possible consequences but Arlecchinos dick stretching you out further and further as she shoved herself inside… maybe this was the salvation you were looking for your whole life.
„You don’t know hm…? Goodness me. Are your likes really just all tits no brain?“, her hands. Her fucking hands grabbing onto your hips as she guided you over her length. How could this be considered a sin? What on earth is sinful about a strange, powerful woman splitting you open on her cock for the first time in your life? On an altar? In front of a statue of said deity?
Nothing came to mind.
Dragging her hips back now, a whine espaced your lips as you desperately reached behind you to grab onto her, lifting up one leg onto the sacred surface of the altar to grant her deeper access.
„N-No-! No don’t leave-!“, her movement stilled.
„Leave? Oh, doll.“, with a harsh tug on your hair, you were forced to look up right into the divine sculpture, its stare seemingly burning itself into your soul.
„I‘m just getting started.“
The thrust that followed her sentence had you moaning across the whole cathedral immediately. Hands searching for the edge of the altar for at least some stability as her dick dragged into your cunt, grazing the sensitive spot that made your back arch and your toes curl.
Just like that. Over a decade of prayers, rituals, reciting. Down the drain like that.
But her cock forcing your tight walls apart with each thrust of her hips into yours made it SO worth it. Is this what you’ve been missing out on for your whole life on purpose? My, you were dumb. So dumb.
„And? Where is that god of yours now that you‘re allowing me to fuck that pretty pussy for the first time in a place of worship? Do you feel ashamed? Maybe even guilty? Let me assure you…“, Arlecchino made sure to hit your spot which each thrust of her hips, sloppy sounds filling the holy walls as your wetness dripped down your thigh, „They could not care less about you.“
Maybe she was right. Maybe they really don’t care about you. Or else why would they allow their former subordinate to fuck you here in their church? Right in front of their sculpture? Spread on the altar like it‘s already a daily routine, fill up your tight cunt to the brim and have your eyes roll into the back of your head?
But you couldn’t think about that right now. Not when her tip was kissing your cervix with each thrust. Not when her dick started to slightly twitch inside of you, being unaware of what is awaiting you. And what is that tightening feeling intensifying in your abdomen?
„Who is your god now?“
You didn’t know what this heavenly feeling was when you threw your head back, pussy clenching and making sure to get every single last drop out of the liquid she just spilled inside of you prior to your own climax, telling her over and over who your god is.
Her.
Death itself fucking you senseless in a cathedral was not on todays to-do list.
„There, there… sweet thing… having her first taste of salvation. My, how come your legs are already shaking? That good?“, her thumbs stroking gentle circles over your hips when you felt her chest pressing against your back.
„Don’t worry. I‘m not even remotely done with you.“
#albarequests#genshin impact#genshin fanfic#arlecchino x female reader#arlecchino x you#arlecchino#arlecchino smut#arlecchino x reader#genshin x reader#fatui x reader#peruere x reader#arlechinno genshin#genshin smut#genshin women x reader
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𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩’𝐬 𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐬 (1)
a random collection of Ateez fics I have stumbled across and fell in love with. (I am clearly biased towards smau fics)
* marks mature/violent content, please heed warnings posted by the author. MDNI with the fics on this list that are marked like this. You are responsible for the media you consume!
Personal favorites are marked with 💜
Authors will not be tagged multiple times if they have already been tagged once before on this list, this is to ensure that I don’t flood notifications and so I can tag as many different authors as I can!
If any authors would like their works removed from this list or to be untagged, please feel free to tell me!! As well as let me know if any links are not working properly! (I do tend to check them frequently though as this list also helps me keep track of the ongoing fics I am reading)
While you’re here, also feel free to check out my own Ateez smau Forgotten Melodies! (Shameless self promo but oh well, it’s my rec list I can recommend my own fic if I want to)
OT8/Multiple Members
wonderwall * @atzfilm 💜 (ongoing series)
circus * @lani-heart 💜 (ongoing)
inception * @remedyx (ongoing)
hypothesis (woosan) @woneuntonzz (ongoing smau)
ateez mafia au @softsan (ongoing)
this night together * (yungi) @honeyhotteoks 💜 (ongoing)
the essence of youth is summers with you @eightmakesonebraincell 💜 (oneshot)
divine ruination * @seonghwaddict (ongoing)
blinding lights * (seongjoong) @kpoppers-anonymous (ongoing)
when eight becomes nine @bunnliix (ongoing)
for love of the game * (yunwoo) @kitten4sannie (oneshot)
makes him want to give up his sea legs @yeontantrash 💜 (drabble)
that’s what roommates are for * (yunsanmin) @bro-atz (oneshot)
house of cards @moontyun (ongoing)
incomplete @ldysmfrst (ongoing)
our leaves must fall before our flowers can bloom @ eightmakesonebraincell 💜 (oneshot)
Kim Hongjoong
a wild ride * @bombuni (oneshot)
while you were sleeping @ seonghwaddict (oneshot)
when flowers bloom in the dark @makeitmingi (ongoing)
kindergarten love story @xomakara (oneshot)
your gentle hands @yourlocaljonghoe 💜 (oneshot)
Park Seonghwa
the lamb and the wolf * @ seonghwaddict (oneshot)
the way to his heart * @edenesth (completed series)
the stranger in 43b @jae-bummer (oneshot)
i will wait @hwaightme (oneshot)
let me in @ makeitmingi (oneshot)
Jeong Yunho
espresso for two? @xuchiya (oneshot)
music of the heart @noonaishere 💜 (ongoing smau)
empires @peacheeeliz 💜 (completed smau)
hunted: haunting adeline au * @whatudowhennooneseesyou 💜 (oneshot)
let’s start a podcast @mars101 (ongoing smau)
Kang Yeosang
morning glory * @anyamaris (oneshot)
operation: passenger princess @sungbeam 💜 (oneshot)
yeosang & a situationship @yunhoszn (oneshot smau)
oddeleny @songmingisthighs 💜 (completed smau)
Choi San
online/offline @ noonaishere 💜 (ongoing smau)
leave the window open @ sungbeam (oneshot)
hold me @cheeseceli (oneshot)
no hesitation * @daemour (oneshot)
love beyond barriers @catsannie (ongoing smau)
Song Mingi
preying on you tonight * @bvidzsoo (oneshot)
and july @sara-wishes (oneshot)
wave @sorryimananti-romantic (oneshot)
[ 11:45 p.m. ] @mingtinys (timestamp)
hidden flames @imagine-a-life-like-this & @mxnsxngie (ongoing)
save a horse, ride your best friend @ seonghwaddict (oneshot)
Jung Wooyoung
written in the stars @ennysbookstore (ongoing)
247 @yothangie 💜 (ongoing smau)
unexpectedly @dancinglikebutterflywings 💜 (ongoing smau + currently on hiatus/being rewritten)
lover, please stay * @roomsofangel (ongoing)
that and then @halaboyz (oneshot)
plans changed @ dancinglikebutterflywings (oneshot)
bullseye! @lividstar 💜 (oneshot)
let the heart love again @ makeitmingi 💜 (oneshot)
vivrant thing @hwaslayer (ongoing)
i don’t want your sorrys, i want you safe @dvrktvnnel (oneshot + planned part two)
die for me * @jisungchan (oneshot)
Choi Jongho
oh shit, are we in love? * @mingigoo 💜 (oneshot)
thinking about how… @ cheeseceli (drabble)
the pool * @beenbaanbuun (oneshot)
#ateez#ateez fic#ateez san#ateez smau#ateez wooyoung#ateez x reader#choi jongho#choi san#jeong yunho#jung wooyoung#ateez fic recs#fic rec#ateez seonghwa#ateez jongho#ateez yeosang#ateez yunho#ateez mingi#ateez scenarios#ateez fanfic#ateez imagines#kim hongjoong#park seonghwa#song mingi#kang yeosang#ateez x y/n#ateez smut#ateez fic recommendations#ateez hongjoong
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Fanfic Review: Anthophilia
Anthony J. Crowley's life seems like it's finally falling into place: his floral shop has begun to gain an undercurrent of appreciation in the design elite of London, and he might have even finally found a boyfriend who looks just right lounging on his Tenreiro sofa. Things seem almost perfect, until one day the empty shop across the street is leased to frumpy fellow Oxford alumni, who doesn't seem to remember Crowley nearly as well as he remembers him, which really shouldn't bother him as much as it does - it was ten years ago after all, and it wasn't even that good of a kiss.
Length: 49,446 words
AO3 Rating: Mature / Spice Level 🔥🔥
Best for: Mostly Safe in Public, Pick-me-up, Human AU
Triggers: None
Read it here, fic by FortinbrasFTW
*Minor Spoilers* We are in Crowley's flower shop when he gets a blast from the past, the man he spent a night making out with at uni has just leased the bookshop across the street. The problem is Aziraphale doesn't seem to remember him. I love the way this unfolds. It's not necessarily a slow burn, but throughout their meetings they slowly and gently fall for each other.
Crowley in this story is seeing someone. Handsome and wealthy, Lucius is the opposite of Aziraphale. And things are new enough that Crowley genuinely likes some parts of dating him. It's common in fics to see Crowley's partners as abusive, and I love that this doesn't do that. Lucius is an ass. Arrogant, shallow, and uncompassionate. But he isn't abusive, he's just not the right partner for Crowley. Anathema is also a welcome character here. I like when she pops up as a nuisance kind of best friend. I feel like that has become fanon to have her as a nosey neighbor/bff and I love it every time. A minor detail about Aziraphale that I love, the author doesn't go for his usual fashion choices. Oh it's outdated, it's very outdated, and unfashionable. But it's the fashion from his human lifetime. It's 80's and 90's rather than his typical velveteen waistcoat. A small change that I don't see many human aus make and I really appreciated that detail!
It just so nice watching our pair become reacquainted, how easy it is for them to fall into each other's orbit. No more thoughts on the plot, let that play out for you. Safe ish in public, there are some references to sex early on but nothing graphic. The only longer scene is at the end. It's a nice balanced read, not exactly fluffy but not angsty either.
Read it here, fic by FortinbrasFTW
#good omens#good omens fanfiction#good omens fanfic#fanfic rec#aziracrow#ineffable husbands#human au#medium#two flames#previous relationships#plant au#pick me up#Anthophilia#FortinbrasFTW#mostly safe in public#flower shop au
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𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒
pairing. kinich x fem!reader
word count. 2.5k
genre/warnings. pixelprincess!au (princess!reader x knight!kinich), one bed trope, princess is nervous to sleep alone with a man (who isn't)
summary.
after a long journey, kinich and the princess finally turn in for the night at an unfamiliar inn. the only problem? there's only one bed.
author's note. i'm finishing this at like 5am so if there's any errors i'll look over it/fix it when i wake up LOL. for now, please scream and cry about knight!kinich with me. reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!!
𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
It’s too warm.
As a princess born and raised in the land of Pyro, you’re accustomed to heat—thrive in it, even. It’s one of the reasons you dread trips like these so much. Foreign nations, even those with the mildest of temperatures, tend to feel a bit too chilly for your taste. Your father often jokes that you could withstand the heat of the Sacred Flame itself.
At the moment, though, you wouldn’t mind cracking open a window or two, even in the dead of winter.
The journey here had been difficult enough, boring as it was. Kinich had threatened to leave you alone in the woods a few times if you kept poking at him, but it was all you could do to not fall asleep. Attending foreign dinners always resulted in long journeys like these, though you know how important it is to maintain close relations with allied countries.
A few bumps in the road made this trek especially long, however—a number of bandits and blocked off paths added an irritating amount of time to your travel, until you and Kinich decided to rest for the night before heading home tomorrow. It had been difficult to even find a place—most inns had been full by this time, but you’d been fortunate to find one with a single open room.
A single, open room containing a single, solitary bed.
That aside, it’s a nice enough room, really. The dark mahogany furniture is carved with intricate nature-like patterns, flowers and leaves that crawl up the legs of the chairs and the foot of the bed. The whole place smells pleasantly of teakwood—a scent that, for better or worse, you tend to attribute to Kinich.
Your knight sits in front of the darkened fireplace, fiddling with a flint until it strikes with a small flame, then enkindles the rest of the wood. A flushing warmth instantly permeates the room. Usually, you would thank him for his efforts—he knows how cold you get—but now, you feel a thin sweat forming at your brow.
Kinich stands, brushing off his hands and admiring the firelight. The lighter strands of his hair glow in its radiance. “That should last us for a bit.”
He tugs at the clasp of his cloak, pulling the garment off and tossing it onto the chair in the corner of the room. It’s a thick fur with ornate green and gold trim; you’d given it to him as a gift during the Winter Festival a year ago. You let your eyes follow the motion, watching the dark cloth drape over the furniture—somehow, you feel too awkward to look at your companion right now. He glances at you, as if wondering what you’re doing just standing there, but doesn’t comment on it.
“Actually, I’m a bit warm,” you say, thumbing at the edges of your sleeves. Kinich raises a brow, genuinely concerned.
“...It’s wintertime,” he says, an obvious statement that seems to ask what the hell is wrong with you.
“Yeah, and I’m warm,” you retort, arms crossed. He looks at you, then looks at the fire, then looks at you again.
“Alright, but if you get cold later, don’t come crying to me,” he says, kneeling down again. Then, under his breath, he mutters, “though I have a feeling you will anyway.”
He toys with the kindling for a bit longer, until the raging flames die into smaller embers and the room cools down. As much as he gives you a hard time, he prioritizes your comfort as much as he possibly can.
With the temperature now taken care of, there is still one other source of discomfort in the room, you think, glancing back toward the bed. It looks temptingly comfortable, with thick sheets and fluffy pillows, but you can’t fathom sleeping in it at the moment.
“You realize that we can’t sleep here, right?” you say, staring down at your feet.
The dark-haired knight is busy rummaging through his rucksack, only half paying attention to what you’re saying.
“I don’t see why not. The bed is big enough.”
He’s right; it’s a king-size, and the two of you would have no problem fitting. Still, the thought of sleeping in a bed with him makes your face warm in a way that can’t be blamed on the fire.
“...There’s only one,” you manage.
Kinich looks up at you, deadpan. “An astute observation. Maybe you’ll be able to count to three by next year.”
“You little—”
The nervousness turns to irritation at his nonchalance—honestly, the thought of sharing a bed with a man you aren’t married to seems a bit inappropriate. And though you won’t admit it, you’re a bit offended that he doesn’t seem even slightly nervous to sleep with you. Kinich isn’t a nervous person by nature, that’s true; it takes quite a bit to get him to show any sort of strong emotion. But a small part of you is disappointed that he doesn’t seem to care about the situation at all.
“You realize it’s just us, right?” you say, urging him toward the root of the issue. Even just stating that fact makes an anxious lump form in your throat.
Kinich considers your words for a moment, pausing his ministrations, before meeting your gaze directly.
“I’m not going to do anything to you,” he says, raising a brow.
The implication makes your face heat up, and you find it almost worse that he had addressed the elephant in the room.
“It’s not that!” you argue hastily. Kinich seems unbothered by your protests, fiddling with the intricate straps of his armor and the laces of his boots. He works about removing them in a fashion that’s so robotic that you’re sure he must’ve done this millions of times.
“What is it then?” he retorts, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Do you snore?”
“I do not—”
“Sleep talk?”
“No, it’s just—”
“Sleepwalk?”
“No! But—”
“Great,” Kinich decides, clapping his hands together as if to end the discussion. Rising to his feet, he gestures to the bed, even going so far as to pull the blankets back invitingly. “Then sleep.”
It’s hard for you to win against him, especially at times like these—truth be told, you actually are quite tired. With a huff, you begrudgingly climb into bed, nearly hanging off the edge with the ample space you leave.
Kinich doesn’t join you yet; he’s still fixing his clothes and tidying his other belongings. He takes good care of his things, you’ve noticed, almost neat to a fault. There’s a strict routine he follows during the night; before bed, he always takes special care to maintain his weapon.
You watch as he oils and sharpens his blade, brow furrowed in concentration. He’s always been very particular about the thing, as if it was an extension of himself, as long as you've known him. His movements are notably precise and intricate, and overwhelmingly gentle. Lost in watching him, you just about jump out of your skin when his eyes suddenly flicker to you.
“You know, most people rest with their eyes closed,” he hums, amused at having caught you in the act.
“You’re annoying,” you mumble, sinking deeper into the pillows to hide your embarrassment.
He shakes his head. “And you’re supposed to be sleeping. So I guess no one’s happy.”
You pull the blanket up until it brushes your chin. You don’t need it; your skin feels like it’s on fire, but somehow it feels too vulnerable to be uncovered right now.
“You’re telling me you don’t feel weird about this? At all?”
He sets the sword aside and finally removes the last of his armor, simply left in his training tunic and loose pants. The shirt is tighter than you remember, you think briefly. You force yourself to look away.
“Should I?” he asks, brushing off his clothes. “Are you going to do something to me?”
The corner of his lip twitches, and you nearly roll your eyes—he amuses himself way too much.
“No!”
“Then we’ll make a deal. I won’t do anything to you if you don’t do anything to me. Then, we’ll both peacefully sleep so that I don’t have to deal with your crankiness in the morning.”
Irritatingly, he’s right about that too. The two of you will have to head out early if you want to make it home for your lessons, as well as Kinich’s other guard duties. And, truthfully, you don’t tend to be a morning person—it’s all Kinich can do to even wake you up on time.
You huff, shutting your eyes. “Fine.”
“Oh?” You can hear the mirth in his voice, and it only makes your irritation grow. “So you were planning on doing somethin—”
“I wasn’t!”
Kinich doesn’t say anything more, likely sensing that you’re on the precipice of genuine frustration—he always knows your exact limits, even when you don’t say so.
For a few minutes, you really do try to sleep. But your heart is still pounding, and as much as you try to ignore it, it threatens to burst out of your chest. You reason that you would feel this way no matter who you were sharing a bed with—it’s just not a feeling that you’re used to. It’s certainly not because it’s Kinich.
You imagine him sleeping beside you, and your fists tighten until your nails form crescent-shaped imprints in your palms.
Definitely not because it’s Kinich.
Your stomach turns as you listen to your companion move around the room, organizing his things. Everything about him is so calm and quiet, including his footsteps—they’re barely a whisper across the floor. The anticipation nearly swallows you whole, and you wait for something to happen—the blankets to pull back, or even a dip in the mattress.
For several long, torturous minutes, nothing happens at all. In fact, you can’t even hear Kinich anymore, not even a single breath.
Did he leave the room?
Gathering your courage, you silently will yourself to open your eyes, afraid of what you’ll see. It takes you a bit, too absorbed in the awkwardness, and three silent mental countdowns later, your eyes finally snap open. Instantly, you discover two things:
Kinich is not in bed with you.
Kinich is nowhere near you at all.
Instead, the knight is sitting across the room, back against the door, head leaned back and both eyes shut. His greatsword lays across his lap, fingers already curled around the grip—he’s always ready, as usual.
“What the hell?”
You don’t mean for it to come out so loud or so aggressive, but your hand is too late to clamp over your mouth.
Kinich cracks one eye open, fixing you with a lazy stare.
“I thought you said you don’t sleep talk,” he murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion.
“I don’t—forget it, what are you doing over there?”
He sighs, pulling a knee to his chest and resting his chin on top. He looks much softer like this, in training clothes and lacking his headband—the curtain of his hair parts a bit as he leans over, and you catch a glimpse of the scar there. It’s thin and silver, barely peeking from his forehead.
“Unless I was mistaken, you seemed uncomfortable with the prospect of sharing a bed with me. I may not have been raised a prince, but even I wouldn’t force something like that on a lady.”
Your teeth sink into your lip. The explanation makes you feel stupid and guilty at the same time. Stupid, because you’re really not sure what you’re even afraid of if Kinich climbs into bed with you. Guilty, because you’d been so argumentative with him, even when he was trying to respect your wishes.
There’s three beats of silence.
“I changed my mind,” you manage to squeak out.
“You don’t have to,” he says, tracing the blade of his sword. An expected answer. “I’m fine sleeping here, really.”
And you know he really would be—he’s certainly slept in worse places. But something about him sleeping there while you warm up under thick blankets leaves a rotten taste in your mouth.
“Well, I’m cold now,” you say, shifting under the covers, “so can you come sleep?”
He looks unconvinced by your plea, head tilted. “Weren’t you the one who said it was too warm?”
You pout in reply. “I changed my mi—”
“—changed your mind, yeah, yeah, I get it.”
Kinich rises to his feet, slow and steady. He seems more tired than he lets on, likely the result of the events from earlier—he had been the one to deal with the bandits, after all. You merely watch as he strides toward you.
“Just remember, you’re the one who offered,” he warns, crossing to the other side of the bed. “So don’t kick me in your sleep.”
You don’t say anything at all, firmly fixated on staring at the wall—you don’t think you could stand to look at him right now. When the sheets get pulled back, you suck in a breath.
To your embarrassment, something warm draws up from your quick-beating heart as Kinich lies down behind you. You chalk it up to natural human reaction—you’ve never shared a bed with someone like this, after all. He’s gentle as he lays down, the mattress barely reacting to his movement. You squeeze your eyes shut as he adjusts, shifting the blankets and pillows, hoping he won’t sense your overwhelming nervousness.
“This okay?”
You chance a look in his direction. His eyes are half-lidded, heavy with sleep, but they seem to pierce right through you. He’s being very particular about the distance between you—close enough that you can feel a bit of his warmth, but far enough that none of your limbs are touching.
This is fine, you think to yourself, drawing in a long, slow breath. This is totally fine.
You nod meekly, and Kinich sighs, shuffling into a more comfortable position as you turn away.
“Good,” he murmurs, warm breath pooling at the back of your neck. It makes you shiver, somehow both relaxed and on-edge, even as he curls slightly closer to you. “Go to sleep then, Princess.”
He’ll be awake for a while, you know. He never goes to sleep before you do—even once you do, it’ll probably be another half an hour before he follows suit. The thought leaves you hyper-aware of his every breath.
So, for the next fifteen minutes, you lie awake, hopelessly thinking of the man laying next to you. And, for the next fifteen minutes, he lies awake too. Your mind grows foggy, begging for rest, but you still feel something tugging at your chest. You wonder if Kinich feels the same way.
“Kinich?” you finally whisper.
There’s a pause, like he’s deciding whether to reply seriously or to scold you for not sleeping. His voice comes out hoarse, a deep rumble from his chest.
“Yes, Princess?”
A yawn crawls out of your throat.
“...are you warm enough too…?”
Your voice trails off as you finally succumb to the clutches of sleep. Kinich listens as your breathing turns to an even rhythm, calm and serene. For once, he’s glad that you’re not looking at him—if you did, you would see the way his skin is flushed a deep red, from his ears to his neck.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, letting his eyes flutter shut. “I am.”
#genshin impact x reader#kinich x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact#kinich#kinich x you#pixelprincess!au#adeptus ink
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