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florencemtrash · 6 months

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Flame, Shadow, Beast : Flame

Azriel x Reader x Eris

Summary: Years after Eris frees you from his father’s prison, you’ve managed to find a new love, new friends, and build a life for yourself in Autumn. But when a certain Shadowsinger stumbles upon your home, dragging in painful memories of betrayal and longing, you’ll have to face the things you left in the past and make choices about the future you want.

Warnings: Fluffy Eris x Reader and our favorite monster, Bryaxis, makes an appearance.

Flame, Shadow, Beast: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It was a cruel irony that winning a war was the easiest part of ruling. Eris thought about it often, doubts invading his rare moments of quiet; Maybe he’d made a mistake. Maybe the lives of thousands of Autumn Court members - both those loyal to him and to his father - hadn’t been worth the weight of the crown now sitting on his head.

The wood and gold had been harvested from the body of one of the Old Gods to whom some of the rural folk still owed their ultimate allegiance; the rubies had come from a land beyond the western seas as a declaration of war back when they’d been ruled by a more ancient race of beings - the predecessors to the Blood Rubies the Summer Court was so fond of doling out. Eris wondered if he’d ever get used to carrying so much history on his body.

The sun had barely crested over the treetops, blanketing the forest floor with streams of liquid gold, when he came across your village. The first fae he saw - a female with short elk horns extending gracefully from her temples - nearly dropped her basket at the sight of him. Eris gently bowed his head in greeting and her face flushed as crimson as the red garment dye that stained her hands.

“My High Lord,” She breathed out, dropping to her knees despite the prickling straw that perpetually littered the roads.

Heads of varying shades of chestnut and scarlet appeared behind closed windows like candlights. During the harvest months everyone woke and slept with the sun.

One by one fae streamed out of their homes, each of them carrying tribute in the form of freshly baked bread, baskets of apples and peaches, sheepskin cloaks, and barrels of mead.

“Stand.” Eris gently commanded them as they fell to their knees, “We’re just passing through.” He could see the hesitation in their eyes. They feared disrespecting him.

Eight years of being High Lord and he had yet to perfect the delicate balance between distance and familiarity with his people.

Halvor coughed from beside him, eyes raised from beneath the shadow of his bronze helm.

Get off your horse and talk to them. His eyes said, repeating the mantra that you liked to say around the royal pair.

Eris understood and dismounted with grace and power. With his scarlet and gold riding cloak, flaming hair, and ruby crown he looked like the spirit of Autumn come to life - all sharp edges and burning stoicism. He was a living fire.

But fire could give warmth as much as pain - nurture and grow as much as it could raze the world to the ground. So Eris took his time to speak with the people. He sampled their mead and ale, complimented the pixies who wove threads of warm oranges, yellows, and reds with their nimble fingers, and visited the rolling fields of corn, barley, and wheat that waved in the brisk breeze. The gray-tinged sky above tasted of power and freedom.

Under Beron’s reign, the fruits of the fields would have fallen entirely under the purview of the High Lord with little remaining for the people who tended the long grasses. Now that they were allowed to own their own land and keep what was due to them, the air was lighter here, happier. It was the first harvest in a long time where they’d feel comfortable enough to celebrate properly.

The mask ebbed away, leaving him feeling lighter than he had in ages as he walked through a town.

A familiar face stared out from behind the small crowd that had gathered by the wheat fields. Talk of this year’s harvest festival rose in the air until everyone could taste the spiced rum, roasted pistachios, caramelized apples, and pumpkin with fresh cream on their tongues. It was still months away, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t get excited now.

Eris broke away - an easy task when they parted ways for him like a hot knife through butter - and approached your smiling figure.

“I was wondering what was taking you so long.” You said, clasping your hands behind your back and smiling at Eris.

“So you came all this way just to investigate?” Eris arched his brow. You were no stranger to these people (and much beloved), but you preferred to keep to your little cottage beyond the town.

“Surprisingly, yes. For you, I would come all this way. And,” You shook the small parcel in your arm, “For Aliona’s candles.”

He grinned and offered you his arm, which you accepted, and quietly began to walk back to where Halvor had been dutifully waiting with the horses… and taking more than a few samples of drinks from beside his stead.

“I also wanted to make sure he hadn’t killed you in your sleep yet.” You said, tilting your head towards his brother.

“Careful, Y/n.”

Halvor was the youngest of Autumn’s trueborn sons, and had grown to become Eris’s second over the course of the war and the years that followed. Cruelty was still hammered into his bones - a disfiguring mark left by their father - but disloyalty was not one of his many negative traits. He’d been the only one to come to Eris’s aid in the war, and subsequently the last of Eris’s brothers to survive. That counted for something in your book.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it seriously, but I could’ve poked fun in a better way.” You said softly, gently leaning into his side. He forgave you quickly. He could never stay angry at you - he wasn’t even sure it was possible.

Halvor tipped his head towards you, eyes the color of freshly brewed coffee staring at you with mischief.

“My Lady.” He said half-mockingly, sweeping out his arm into a shallow bow.

You rolled your eyes. “How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

“Why not? Is my brother not a good enough romp for you? If you want better company I could-”

Eris cut off his words with a growl of warning. Halvor only tipped his head back and laughed - a grating sound that eight years of peace under Eris’s rule still hadn’t managed to file away.

“We’ll be walking to her home from here.” Eris said, slipping into his High Lord voice, “Try and keep your distance and be on the lookout.” Halvor nodded, turning serious at the shift in his brother’s voice. There were countless enemies who would be happy to snatch the crown away from a new, as of yet untested, High Lord.

He followed obediently, keeping his distance as you and Eris both bade farewell to the townspeople.

You lived on a patch of land too far to even be considered the outskirts of town, but you were a familiar face to everyone. A healer by trade and Eris’s most trusted advisor and friend, you were the one they called upon in the dead of night when evil whispered nearby or sickness fell upon them.

Evaldre, they called you in one of the Old Tongues. The exact meaning had been lost to time, but it spoke of someone cherished and highly regarded. Some of the bold ones even went so far as to call you “Our High Lady.”

Ten years ago uttering those words would have meant the swift swing of a sword on one’s neck. If High Lord Eris knew of it, he never seemed to mind.

Bryaxis waited for you on your doorstep, pleasantly lounging in a patch of light and watching the gentle fall of crisp leaves from the trees above. Both Eris and Halvor’s horses groaned low in their throats, hooves pressing into the soil to stop before the clearing. Halvor whistled at them to move forward, but they refused.

“It’s that devil dog of yours,” Halvor said, dismounting and tying off the pair on a low hanging elm branch, “Makes them anxious.”

He whispered words of comfort to them, sliding his hands along their thick necks until they stopped bucking against the reins. Eris had his dogs and Halvor had his horses.

“He’ll stay inside then. Wouldn’t want you to have to walk back to the Forest House with your tail between your legs because you lost the horses.”

Eris smirked when Halvor threw an obscene gesture your way.

The dog in question, black as night with shining silver-blue eyes, stretched and nuzzled into your outstretched hand as you reached your front door, Eris following closely behind.

“Will you be long?” Halvor called out to Eris, raising his eyebrows suggestively with his hyena grin.

“Go home if you’re so impatient. I can make it back on my own.”

“I’ll wait til noon.” If Eris was finished by then, it would mean they took care of business… if Eris wasn’t finished by then, it would mean they were taking care of other business, business Halvor would do no good sticking around for. He snorted at the thought, then lost himself in imagining the other females he might be able to seduce back at the Forest House.

You both passed through the enchantments woven into the wood of your home, feeling a rush of power pour over you like water over stone.

Eris snapped his fingers and the candles you’d placed on your dining table and mantle burst to life, fluttering about like dancers. The fireplace followed suit, sending a wave of warmth throughout the house. Firelight bounced off the rich velvet and creams that adorned your home - a cleaner mimic of the Autumn lands that existed behind the walls and flooded in through the open windows.

The Forest House was a place of luxury, massive enough that it would take you an entire morning just to walk from one end to another, and filled to the brim with treasures of gold, bronze, and enough precious jewels to sink a ship. It was a palace fit for a High Lord. But this was a home, so he took off his crown and hung up his cloak.

“What happened to him?” Eris said, kneeling on the ground and giving Bryaxis a well-deserved scratch behind the ears. The millennia-old creature closed his eyes in satisfaction. “The last time I saw him he was a cat.”

You chuckled, bustling about in the kitchen for a tea set that would match and piling pastries on a plate. The smell of browned butter and strawberry rhubarb jam waltzed in the air.

“He’s been experimenting with new forms.” You said, smugness and pride warming your chest. Not so long after Eris had freed you from the mountain and given you a new home, Bryaxis had found you, drawn to your power. Twin bargain tattoos snaked up from the bridges of your feet to your ankles like vines up a trellis - the first promised that you would do no harm to one another in exchange for dual protection, the second allowed you to take a portion of his power, giving him to opportunity to mold his being into a form that could experience the world in a more physical sense.

Gone was the shapeless creature of shadow and nightmares. Enter Bryaxis the wolf-dog (and occasional housecat) who still radiated enough power to scare away any creature (wicked or otherwise) that dared to disturb the peace of their home. But he could curl up by the windows and watch the night sky uninhibited, and in his heart he was a creature of violence and simplicity in equal measure.

“I like this one better than the cat.” Eris said with a grin, for the monster had copied the shape of one of his prized hunting dogs. Bryaxis seemed to growl in appreciation when Eris straightened up.

He sighed in contentment, feeling the stress of his crown melt away when you wrapped your arms around his middle, burying your face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the scent of cedar, smoke, and cinnamon.

“Hello.” He murmured softly, turning in your arms and pressing his lips against your forehead.

“Hello.” You whispered, brushing your lips against his with a sigh, “I missed you. Where have you been all this time?” The finished reports on your desk, much like your empty bed, had been waiting patiently for Eris’s next visit.

He hesitated, pulling away to look at you. He brushed aside a few stray strands of hair that had fallen out of your braid. “The Night Court.”

You stiffened, “Keir?”

He shook his head, frowning, “Rhysand.”

You blinked, and he saw darkness pass through your eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.”

Twelve years.

You’d been Beron’s prisoner for decades before. Then you’d escaped and managed a couple of years of peace. You’d found a home and a family… or so you thought. And then twelve years ago you’d been betrayed - handed back to the now deceased High Lord on a silver platter and trapped beneath the mountain for four years. It made your blood boil to think about the people who helped put you there.

“You’ve been dealing with them for years now,” You forced out in a diplomatic tone, “It’s good for you to have allies, especially strong ones like them.”

“Y/n-”

“You should've told me. I don’t want you to worry about my feelings when it comes to these things. Autumn comes first and-”

“I’ll always worry about you.” Eris said, tilting your chin up and catching the moisture gathering in your eyes that you’d furiously tried to blink away, “And there’s no choice between you and my Court. You belong here. To protect Autumn - to protect you - are the same thing, my love.”

Your cheeks burned at the careful way he spoke, the sincerity in his voice he reserved solely for you in moments like this.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Y/n. I promise it won't happen again."

Fury burned in his stomach, a continuation of the anger that had steadily been eating away at his patience during his visit to the Night Court. To see the Inner Circle look so safe and happy in the bubble they’d carved for themselves in Velaris, naive to the pain and suffering they’d caused you, had made him want to burn The House of Wind to the ground. Alliance be damned.

He hated them nearly as much as he had hated his own father.

“I don’t want to think about them.” You declared, setting your jaw and smoothing away the lines of anger that had formed on Eris’s forehead, “To hell with them.”

Eris smirked, loving the determination that settled in your eyes as you dragged him over to the living room and finished setting up the tea that had started to whistle on the stovetop. You would carve out a space for yourself in this world and be happy, even if it killed you.

“To hell with them.” He repeated.

Business and pleasure. The two were impossible for him to separate, which is why he cherished time spent with you. The pair of you spoke easily together, seamlessly transitioning from discussions of grain reports, treaties, and trade deals to banter about the Harvest Festival and the latest court gossip. Halvor was long gone, and Bryaxis off hunting, when the talking ceased and Eris found himself comfortably spread out on your velvet couch, shirt unbuttoned, and head resting in your lap as you wove your fingers through his hair.

He opened his eyes, lazy and slow, and quietly took in your features - the slope of your nose, the gentle curves of your cheeks and lips as you smiled at him, the contentment in your eyes that shifted into deep thought.

He waited for you to share them with him.

“I’ve been thinking about your proposal.” You said carefully and he froze beneath your hands.

“You-you have?” Eris swallowed and sat up, keeping his distance even as he dared to hope. You’d both been keeping your relationship secret, visiting each other under the guise of court business and court business only. It had certainly started out that way, but things had quickly shifted into something far more intimate and worthy of secrecy… Then Eris had asked if it could stop being so secret.

You nodded, searching his face for something more than the neutral mask every High Lord learned to master.

You moved onto his lap, laying your hands on the sides of his face as his eyes widened ever so slightly, “My answer is yes.”

“Yes?” He asked in disbelief.

Yes to living with him. Yes to going to court with him. Yes to showing the world that he was not alone in his duty. Yes to being by his side wherever either of you went.

No more hiding in this house on the outskirts. No more being afraid of what had happened in the past. No more loneliness.

“Yes.”

He shuddered under your touch and suddenly he was everywhere. His hands roamed the expanse of your back, pulling at the fabric of your bodice. Red locks as vivid as flame got knotted beneath your fingers, and his body pressed flush against yours, desperate for any contact as his chest continued to shake with laughter.

You stayed with him on that couch, neither of you wanting to bother with the effort of walking the extra twenty steps to your bedroom, as articles of clothing were hastily torn off and allowed to float onto the floor in crumples of fabric.

A growl from just outside your front door, low and gravelly enough to shake the ground, woke the two of you up. The sun was kissing the horizon on its way down, lateral rays of light streaming through the window and splashing onto the bookshelves and walls like gold paint. Eris groaned with displeasure, pulling you flush against his chest when you dared to draw yourself up on your arms to look at the door.

You giggled against him, pulling a rare smile from his lips when he felt your laughter.

He was all warmth and color beneath you as you shouted at Bryaxis to give you more time alone. He could practically hear the rolling of eyes with the huff that Bryaxis gave out. But he eventually trotted away to find a patch of soft grass from which to watch the sun set.

“It’s good to know a murderous beast like him still has a sense of humor.” Eris quipped, practically humming with pleasure when you melted into him. “You would know. You can be funny sometimes.”

“Sometimes?!”

“Sometimes!”

“You must give me more credit than that.”

“I will not.”

“You must. Your High Lord demands it.” Eris said, puffing out his chest and deepening his voice.

“Your High Lord demands it.” You parroted in a silly voice that made Eris chuckle and kiss you again.

You laid in the silence for as long as you could, until the sun was once again buried in the ground and the calls of the Forest House could not be ignored. With every piece of clothing Eris pulled back on his body, the vulnerable joy that came from being with you seemed to dim.

Was he a lovesick fool for asking you to come to court and be with him? Was the protection of a High Lord worth the dangers that came with it? Lucien had been the first of their brothers to fall in love and he had paid for it dearly. Sometimes Eris had nightmares that you would suffer the same fate.

Eris watched you as you laced up your bodice with quick fingers, fixed your hair, and smoothed your skirts. You looked heavenly in the light of the fire. You were everything he could have dreamed of and more… because you were real… and you loved him as fiercely as he loved you. Which meant he could lose you.

“Y/n.” He whispered your name like a prayer, drawing your attention. You drew close to him, pressing your forehead against his as he took a deep breath, “What you’re agreeing to… you know what it will mean, don’t you?”

You closed your eyes and nodded. This was no light decision and it was why you’d taken three months to come up with an answer for him.

“It will mean people will come for me, and never stop coming for me, just to hurt you and to hurt this Court.” Eris flinched, but you wouldn’t let him open his mouth to dissuade you. You’d given this much thought, and your decision was made.

“It will mean constant scrutiny from the other Lords and Ladies. A life spent in a house known for its history of cruelty and disloyalty. A life that will never fully be my own.”

Eris was beginning to think he’d truly made a terrible mistake in asking you to be with him. But before that cold mask of his could fall over his features, you grasped his face in yours hands and forced him to look at you.

“But it will also mean a chance to be with you. A chance to lead alongside the first person to give me a real home - a real family. A chance to continue to build and protect what I love. I love you, Eris, and I love Autumn, and I’ll be damned if I don’t protect what I love.”

Eris clenched his teeth, holding back the emotion that threatened to spill out like a ruptured damn.

“I won’t be like this at the Forest House.” He said, hating the truth of the words that fell off his tongue, “I won’t be able to show who I truly am when I’m around others, at least not for now. They’ll call you foolish, or cruel, or wicked for being with me. I can’t promise you an established and worthy court. I-”

“Then we’ll build it ourselves.” You said fiercely, pouring your power into the words, “We’ll build a new court, a new life for ourselves and everyone here. I know you’ll do everything you can to fix things, even if it breaks you.” You whispered the next words reverently against his lips, “Let me help you. Let me do it with you.”

Eris let the tears run rivers down his cheeks, even as he set his jaw, and stared resolutely into your eyes.

“Let’s do it then. Together.”

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______

Author's note:

*shouts from the mountaintops* I just want Eris to be happy! And I want him to have someone he trusts that can rule alongside him!

That's it. That's the note. Oh and let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters.

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @nightless @mmb-09 @thesnugglingduck @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @logankemaek @the-sweet-psycho @a-frog-with-a-laptop @flameandshadowx @applerubyy

#eris x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x reader x eris #eris fluff #eris vanserra #eris x y/n #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #eris acotar #autumn #autumn court #night court #the night court #the inner circle #azriel angst #eris angst #acotar #acotar fanfiction #bryaxis

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honeymaki · 3 months

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𝘐 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 .｡.:*･

Warnings: mentions of bodily harm, oral sex (f → receiving), penetrative sex, creampie, unneeded religious themes, mentions of body hair; reader has a hydro vision and is from Inazuma.

Words: 6k

Characters: Cyno; mentions of Tighnari as a reluctant tutor.

→ Notes: this is my first fic in honest to god years, proper thought out all consuming insane in the head fic; and I am proud of this.

The heat of Sumeru was different to the heat of Inazuma, the sweet smelling summers and the cool touch of the vast ocean on your toes were now just memories wisping like the steam that rose from streams, and the breeze that picked up the morning dew drops from leaves larger and thicker than any you had ever seen.

Inazuma summers meant blue ice pops and sweet milk beverages, lounging in you underclothes on the veranda, fanning yourself and whoever was your companion for the day, sucking on juicy melon slices and watching the fishermen bring in their catch of the day down by the shore, the crystal waves just beckoning you in for a much needed swim. The heat there was bearable, almost, with the promise of a fiery red autumn to follow if the sun got high enough and always smelling oh so sweet in the evenings when restaurants and common folk would move their cooking outdoors, smoke from the barbeques dancing in the mellow breeze like rice plumes in their paddy fields, carrying drippings of fat and roasted lavender melons to your nose. If the night was just right, you could just catch the slow baking of Tomoki’s dango, sweet rice cakes lathed with caramel or a soy glaze, both welcomed after hours wandering the slopes beneath Narakumi.

Sumeru summers, despite only experiencing a few in your recent years, were so stiflingly different and yet, a gentle reminder of what it was like back home. It was definitely - wetter with sweltering days that made it hard to breathe and made way for almost frigid nights, dew settling fat and heavy over the land, clouds gathering to tease a storm but only showering a gentle drizzle. The sprawling fields and jagged islands of Inazuma made way for the jungles and vast forests of Sumeru, sunlight dappled and sparkling no matter the time of day, shining through leaves and spider webs and flowers you had yet to name, catching in the estuaries and ponds snaking across the landscape. And the desert, dry and barren with the formidable beast in the sky baring down at all moments, was teaming with the same greenery as your new residence. You didn’t often venture past Caravan Ribat and the few times you did travel there, the sun was shielded behind great hanging cloths and rugs of immense beauty, some old and worn and some witnessing their first day protecting the residents and travellers of the threshold of the desert. Though the shade and protection of the trees was much more suited to you and your gentle memories of Inazuma, flitting from branch to branch the way you used to with the sea caves and shipwrecks of your home.

Sumeru summers meant ripe Zaytun peaches and crunchy radishes pickled with chilli and mint, sipping on lukewarm water from your pouch but wading through ice cold streams to document new outcrops of lotus’. It meant the constant shout of brightly coloured birds beyond your window, the low hum of traders passing through and offering their wares, the enticing aroma of curries and unleavened breads, both sitting heavy and comfortingly in your belly after every sweltering excursion.

There were times you missed Inazuma, deeply and painfully, but as it was, fate had called you beyond the services to the Shogunate and beyond the great sea which had previously been barred. The lifting of the decree saw a mass migration of people, some back to their original homes and many off to new, including yourself in the form of a letter from the Akademiya offering to school you in the great city of Sumeru.

That summer saw your first sea voyage, and your last taste of Inazuman sweetness for many years. The Akademiya was good to you, one of the first Inazumans in an age to study among their natives, bringing your knowledge of Inazuman biology and medicine to their foresight and introducing them to a world of eternity and strange new ways to ferment soybeans. It was difficult to grow accustomed to their culture, their ways and laws, and their itchy uniforms, preferring the loose garb that the forest rangers wore, their bows and their nimble knowledge. Studying under the Amurta discipline was a gentle reminder of home, reading about all sorts from around Teyvat, wishing so dearly to travel even beyond Sumeru to see it all for yourself; sitting at your desk in the early hours of the morning dreaming of the mountains of Liyue and the beauty of the Qingxin that you would find, wondering what it would be like to swim in the waters of Fontain and venture among the ancient forests of Mondstadt. Your love of the forest, of all things green and living and thriving sent you to Gandarva Villa, under the apparently famed and somewhat reluctant mentorage of Tighnari. Reluctant in that upon reading your thesis and realising that you had already submitted your first manuscript, and concluding that he had little idea of the basis of your study and that you had already nearly finished it entirely.

Inazuma had been closed off, shut to any and all outsiders for a generation, prompting only theories and wild ideas about your archon and her dealings; which lead to a dramatic decline in knowledge flowing from her shores, not only technologically but also botanically. Growing your first successful lavender melon on a rickety trellis in your front garden was talked about for weeks, fuelled only by your multiple displays of how one could cook, eat and utilise it. Food from Inazuma was indeed traded in the cities, but many of the forest rangers rarely ventured into the winding, bustling streets so in between studying and writing up a new version of your manuscript; you took it upon yourself to grow as much as you could from home to share with your new and beloved friends. And the Sumeru summers were the perfect growing conditions to do this, spending your pink and orange evenings pruning the naku weed and spreading straw beneath the amakuno fruits, tending to the delicate blooms of your unsuccessful dendrobiums.

Which is where you found yourself one calm and thankfully cool evening after feasting with your companions. Knelt on the grass, books and papers surround you and your distinct annoyance, chewing your lip and pondering on the answers you finally found regarding your one nemesis. A single sprout curls and threatens to wither before you, rejecting the sprinkle of water you summon from your palm, looking very sorry for itself; a sad reflection of its carer,

“I didn’t think I’d have to resort to such sinful methods little one,” you grumble, theory confirmed by the pocketbook of your own writing completed some years ago, “But I promised Tighnari and he looks really silly when he pouts,” as if your words would suddenly spark the sprout into blooming, a crumb of soil instead shuddered and dropped from its crisped leaf in defeat. A creature called out in the distance, wind blew gently through the valley and rustled your papers, concealing the staggering breaths of a person advancing on your delicate little world, and concealing the unsheathing of a small pocket knife. It was clear your intention, fuelled by your field notes and the archived history of Nazuchi Beach, and in a dramatic display; you held your hand out over the sorrowful sprout with the blade kissing your skin.

A hiss of breath and the nicking pain never came, pressure and a grunt revealed a hand holding your wrist far from the shining lick of the knife.

“What exactly are you doing?” the familiarity of that gruff voice causes a chill to ripple down your spin, hanging your head with heat in your cheeks, “I didn’t know it was Inazuman custom to sacrifice oneself to plants, dead ones at that,”

“I wasn’t going to entirely sacrifice myself, these plants grow only where blood has been spilt and I'm not going to ask someone else to do it for me, or start a war like they did back home so I figured -,” turning to face him, something catches you off guard. It wasn’t unusual for the General Mahamtra to pass through the valley, even stay for a few nights with his fellows, but it was unusual that he seemed - not quite right, despite still gripping you and staring at you with unimpressed judgement. So much so that you abruptly ended your swotty explanation and tried to pull away from him, to no avail,

“Are you okay? You look kind of unwell?” voice gentle and curious, causing Cyno to tighten his grip on your wrist even more, “Ah ! - you’re hurting me,”

“Where is Tighnari? I need to see him, something has happened…I’ve done something regreful,” even though he seemed to have been speaking perfectly fine a few seconds ago, Cyno suddenly sounded a thousand miles away and almost intoxicated. Eyes glancing around furtively, searching for nothing and everything, specifically your reluctant mentor who currently -,

“He’s away right now, Liyue - ow ! - there was a cooking event he wanted to go to and so I asked if he could pick me up some Violetgrass and also some starconches,” you say through your teeth, struggling out of his grasp and rubbing your wrist, squinting at his figure in the doctor-ish way Tighnari taught you. All of a sudden, he didn’t look much like a General Mahamatra, or even a matra; trying desperately to hide the sways in his body and the shaking of this fists held tightly by his side, tongue dipping out of his mouth to lap at the beads of sweat rolling down his upper lip, eyes red and rimmed dark. Words seem to be a loss for him at the news, swallowing thickly and looking down at his feet, toes digging into the carefully curated moss of your garden,

“What did you eat?” your sharp question stuns him out of his stupor for a moment, scrambling to your feet to assess him properly, “Or drink, but I assume it was something edible that has you sweating like the grand sage in a brothel,”

“Don’t - ,” he spits, “Don’t mock me,” you step back, hands up in submission, face shining with the want to help,

“I wasn’t Cyno, I promise, Tighnari isn’t here right now so I’m going to help you, but I need you to answer my questions so I can do that,” it occurred to you for a moment that as the General, Cyno probably knew about his friend’s little excursion and yet, came straight to you instead of the Akademiya. But a sharp exhale banished that thought from your mind,

“In the North, near Vanarana, there were Fatui breaking protocol,” at the mention of the mysterious and mostly unmapped region, you usher Cyno into your humble hut, drawing the wicker shutters and lighting a candle in the dwindling dusk, “they had stolen goods - crests from all over Teyvat, mostly food from Inazuma, some kind of mushroom …,”

“Oh Cyno, we have both told you never to -,”

“Yeah, yeah, never eat something I can’t name, I know; but it looked like a starshroom, it was glowing and I can obviously name that so, I ate it,” sinking into a chair, Cyno suddenly looked pale in the candlelight, wiping sweat from his brow and shifting his hips beneath your scrutinising gaze,

“Did you say it was glowing? You ate a glowing mushroom?” this was hardly the time for jesting but you couldn’t help but grin, vanishing in a second under Cyno’s scowl, “Tighnari is going to be so mad at you, I thought it was obvious not to go around tasting things that glowed! We teach that to children! And newcomers who have never seen anything like it before,” your berating is only half serious, rummaging around you various knapsacks and baskets for the ingredient you needed to ease his pain, handing him a strip of dried something or other with a kind look, “Chew on this, it should stop the pain in a few seconds but just hang tight okay? I’ll take care of you,”

As much of a mother you seemed around those who made mistakes, berating them sharply before showing them the right way or the solution; Cyno almost felt like a lover to you in the way you cupped his jaw to make sure he was indeed chewing on the bark, stroking the tops of his cheekbones and the round of his collar in search of a rash, fingers soft and methodical, loving in a way he was unsure of whether you used towards other patients. He watched you work, content with his stabilising condition and preparing some kind of drink, back facing him and sweetly busy at your workbench. You were so precise and aged in your movements, picking the right herb and concoction without having to think, mixing them perfectly into a hand thrown cup with an extra spoonful of something for good measure,

“Here,” you sat down in the chair next to him, pressing a cool palm to his forehead beneath his headpiece, “I put some sugar in it to make it a little easier to drink, m’fraid I didn’t have any lavender melon syrup left,” the cup is heavy when you push it towards him, eyes curious and ever watchful, “If you need to throw up then warn me first,”

That struck him as odd. “Why didn’t you make me do that as soon as I arrived here? Surely that’s the first protocol in eating something dangerous?” you jerked your head, an indicator for him to drink and truly, the sugar did nothing to hide the foul taste and Cyno couldn’t hold back the winces and the gags as he swallowed,

“You ate fluorescent fungus, probably a rarer sub-specie that is very similar to the starshroom and native to Inazuma, obviously. The spores would have touched your lips first and as it is a very delicate plant -,” you fiddle with a small pocket book left on the table, showing him a beautiful painted depiction of the yellow-ish fungus he ate, “your saliva would have dissolved it before it even hit your stomach so vomiting would not have done much,” he nods, somewhat in defeat, gulping the last of your concoction with a poorly hidden gag, “We can sit until you feel better if you’d like, I’m surprised you didn’t have worse symptoms. Usually people get hallucinations, fainting, loss of limb control; the usual when one eats a poisonous mushroom, but you’re strong I guess,” you steal a glance at his body reclined and tense in the chair, “or just resistant,” Cyno doesn’t reply, tilting his head back and taking a shallow breath, still uncomfortable and unwell, “Just relax, it’ll take effect in a little bit, I’ll take care of you while it does,”

There was that strange feeling that made Cyno want to suck in his cheeks and puff out his chest, but it was not all that unfamiliar. Moments like this were common, more so in the recent visits, the ones where he felt like you could be a little more than the Inazuman who knows surprisingly too much. Sat around the fire in the cool nights, palm held in yours, tracing the deep callouses and lines and pretending to be a mage from your home city, making up some jumbo about his future and him suddenly so wishing you were in it; waving at him from down in the valley, wading with the fishes and the fungi, trousers rolled up to your knees and looking just about the happiest he had ever seen you; listening from the shadows as you animatedly retold stories from travelling around Watatsumi and foraging the pearls hidden beneath the glowing waters, an eagerly fond look twinkling in his eye; slyly asking about you at the Akedamiya, wondering about your studies and pretending to be interested in your thesis when all he could see was your printed name at the top of the manuscript; times when you thought he couldn’t see you looking at him with his headpiece off, a cut on his brow or a set of cards on the table in front of him, noticing your longing gaze and keeping it safe for the lonely nights in the desert.

You were looking at him now, thinking he was resting, allowing your eyes to trace the steady rise and fall of his chest, the soft skin of his stomach and the trunks of his thighs, spread and inviting. It takes all he has not to smirk, or flush, or even move. It’s strange, he thinks, he feels almost uncomfortable in that he desperately wants to do something about it, in an all the more wanton way. Makes him feel wound up, on edge almost, biting his tongue and scrunching his toes in case he might stand up and simply confess.

“How do I know if I’m hallucinating?” Cyno knows he isn’t, but it fills the heady silence and he hears you readjust yourself, sitting up a little straighter,

“Well, first of all, you shouldn’t be hallucinating now since the medicine should be working,” there’s concern in your voice, licking like a lover over his ears, feeling you press forward and he feels you caress his closed eyelid, “look at me? Why could you be hallucinating now?” he’s lazy in aiding your poking and prodding, allowing you to remove his headpiece and place it on the table, blinking blearily, “Describe what you are feeling please, and what you’re seeing,”

“I’m not sure how to describe it,” he grumbles after a moment in gathering his thoughts, struggling in your close proximity, “You’re so close, it’s interfering with my concentration,” you furrow your brows, confused and more than concerned, that same soft scowl of a lover settling on your face at his words, “there, you’re doing things and saying things and making me feel things I’m not accustomed to, it feels wrong; like it and you and all this shouldn’t be here,”

“And so, you think that you’re experiencing a hallucination of what exactly?” you feel for a temperature, sitting back in your chair at his leaning forwards into the touch of your hand, “I’m not sure you’re hallucinating Cyno, your vitals are - ,” precise fingers dig into the doughy, giving skin under his chin to feel for a pulse, finding it strong and fluttering like a small bird, “Let me get you something to drink, water this time I promise,” you’re not angry with his feigning symptoms, or that concerned at his apparent anxiety, not berating him in that motherly way like you usually do and that only causes his pulse to rocket higher and the anxiety creep further into his gut. You’re acting in that way again, sweet eyes and a sweeter voice, like honey, fetching him a cool welcomed cup of water in the way such as after a night of -

You distinctly remember hearing absolute silence in the seconds between you standing to get your guest some water, and then feeling his imposing presence behind you, close enough to feel his breath on the back of your neck. Time stops at the sound of his fists clenching by his side, swallowing thickly at the sight of your inviting skin, physically shaking in his restraint,

“I feel like I’m dreaming, like none of this and none of what I am feeling is real,” you’re silent still, barely breathing in the confined space he’d boxed you into, a small corner of your hut with a sink that provided you some much needed physical support. Psychologically however, you were in turmoil. Cyno, the Great General Mahamtra, felt as if he was having a hallucination or some kind of dream in his apparent romantic or lustful pursuit of you, and the implication of what was standing behind you was suddenly too much to bear.

“I could - pinch you if you’d like,” the voice that leaves you doesn’t sound like your own, shaky and shy, “Dreams aren’t real, you shouldn’t be able to feel or touch or taste in a dream, if you concentrate hard enough,”

A beat passes, filled with sharp, quiet breaths passing between you and it aches that you cannot see what he’s doing, or what he looks like or how he feels. Your heart flutters like a sakura petal in the spring breeze, mouth dropping open when you feel his hands rest on your hips, burning hot through your clothes. Cyno sucks in a breath, lips dry and cool as they part against your neck, tongue darting out to taste the damp saltiness of your skin,

“I feel you,” he mumbles into your jugular, thick hair sticking to the side of your face and his nails dig into the cushiony flesh of your hips, “I feel you, and you feel - soft, so soft,” hips press into you, strong and hard and fluid, “And you taste like nectar, like honey and wine and - like a dream,”

“It’s been more than enough time for the medicine to take its full effect, you shouldn’t feel any more side effe…Cyno,” his name comes out a sigh at his attaching his mouth fully to your throat, wet and warm and causing your knees to buckle. He catches you, almost, slinging an around around your middle and hoisting you back against him, panting against the back of your neck,

“I guess you’re right,” one hand grips your wrist, urging you to put down the cup and Cyno lifts it to his lips, nose running down the pulsing veins as it trying to absorb your scent and the effect he has on your pulse, throbbing beneath the delicate skin, “How could this be a dream, a hallucination if I can feel everything, taste you on my tongue, touch you like this?”

He’s grinding against you, body writhing in tandem with his in response, mouth open with heady gasps and mewls that remind him over and over that not only did you save him from certain madness, but you also were eagerly reciprocating his equally eager advances. Long fingers unlace the ties of your trousers and dip beneath your waistband, instead dragging up into your shirt, loose and comfortable for your planned evening of study, now easily parting like clouds on a blustery day for him. The first touch against your chest sends you shivering into his grip, fingertips brushing the underside of your breast oh so softly and politely before gripping a little firmer, then altogether greedily. Flesh spilling between his fingers, nipple catching on a callous, rough and a little mean but eliciting such a submissive little reaction that Cyno nearly folds forward against you.

“Please, please, please,” you’re muttering desperately, sacred like you’re saying a prayer, pushing your chest further into his touch and arching your back, “Touch me please,”

“You’re always so polite,” he isn’t much for words, let alone praises but you’re so dear and so sweet in his arms, shivering like a little lamb and even bleating at the slithering of his other hand into your trousers. With his face still nuzzling into your neck, Cyno is only just able to hide his distinct devastation at how wet you are, positively soaking your underwear and covering his fingers in honeyed slick. He grips your breast harder, plucking at your nipple at the same luxurious pace as his forefingers sliding through your cunt, slipping sloppily over your clit and you all but howl. You aren’t quite sure what to do with your hands, the one he was previously lathing kisses to was now somehow tangled in his hair, holding him in place and it’s grounding, it’s anchoring you to the intense, gooey pleasure coursing through your gut. Your other hand is gripping his forearm, the one deep between your thighs or the one greedily fisting your breasts, you aren’t sure but your nails hurt and you think it’s because you’re holding on too tight, but how can you not when too much is happening all at once?

Cyno feels your arousal coating his hand, palm sticky and fingers pruning with his assault, languid circles over your clit, following the shivers and writhes of your body with grinds and jerks of his own. Gods, he’s so hard that it hurts, and he knows that you’re so close, so fucking close to cumming but he can’t help but still worry if he’s dreaming, if this is all an after effect of his incident, if you’d neglected to tell him how long something like a hallucination could last. He vaguely hears you howl in agonising dejection when he rips his hand from your trousers, strings of arousal glistening in between his fingers in the light and he’s struck with how you’d much prefer to cry over the loss than watch him lick up the mess you’d made. You only just manage to catch his eyes rolling back at the taste, dripping down his wrist, three fingers shoved into his mouth and positively devouring the essence of you. Tears leak down your cheeks, replacing his fingers with your lips in a whirlwind of need and hard, hot desperation, swallowing his surprised grunt with a whine of your own. Cyno doesn’t respond for a moment, shocked at your display of wantonness, tongue licking inside his mouth in a thinly veiled attempt at tasting your own arousal and his grip on you suddenly becomes all the more fierce.

“I can’t - I can’t -,” your kisses grow sloppy with your begs, struggling to pull your trousers down, almost losing your balance and it pains Cyno to part from you for even a second to disrobe himself. Red eyes follow your every movement, toeing off your shoes and ungracefully kicking away your trousers, bending over for a moment and it takes everything in him not to cum on the spot. Nestled between your thighs, dripping and plump, the scent of it wounding him to his knees, crawling half dressed over to you,

“Gods - fuck,” eyes fluttering closed at your suprised gasp, tongue darting out to lick gently, lightly like he was licking honey from his finger, catching the leaking drops and feeling his stomach clench, and his cock kick against his thigh. You remain in place, frozen against his curious, pointed licks, flattening his tongue after having his fill and splitting your pussylips with a lewd noise. He could be content between your thighs for the rest of his life, Akademiya be damned, coming home from his duties to this lifeline of saccharine sin that he swallows down greedily and selfishly. The wings of your shirt sit bunched over your hips, sliding low over your ass until he frustratedly fists the cotton against your cheek and spreads you enough to put his whole mouth against you.

“Cyno! Ah - !” you startle forwards, but he only follows like a worshipper, slurping and swallowing every flutter and every throb of you, fingers digging hard into your thigh and ass to keep himself in place. A tentative hand cards into his hair, a question and his answer was a long, slow moan directly into your cunt, vibrating between your hips and the result was your closeted strength almost shoving him over, nose hitting your clit and causing you to gyrate deliciously.

That was all he wanted, this drawn out stupor only stabilised by your shuddering grinds against his tongue, palm slapping against the countertop. If you’d allow him, Cyno would do this every day, he’d gladly station himself in the city if he got to taste the heaven between your thighs even for a few seconds in the mornings before he was called in to deal with the country’s worst and the best. It would be a welcome reprieve, one he’d been craving without even knowing it; in the moments alone with you, sacred and secret, soft and sweet and warm. To feel you gushing down his chin, moans reaching their crescendo and legs shaking on your tiptoes, all but sobbing into the crook of your elbow as you cum; it would be worth the sacrifice.

Cyno felt selfish, detaching himself from your cunt, resting his forehead against the back of your thigh and smoothing his hands over your shuddering calves, down to your ankles and then back up to your ass.

“Are you okay?” his breath is hot on your skin, and through your gulping pants, you manage to answer with a cracked ‘mhm’. You feel him smile wide and smug, standing and hiccuping at the state of you, slumped against the sink and writhing as if in pain, whole body breathing with your dwindling orgasm, “Come here, I got you,”

Carefully and all too greedily, Cyno scoops your torso against his with his hand angling your jaw, tilting your face up to his. A kiss is pressed to your lips, languid and lazy, a stark contrast to the blunt head of his cock kissing the lips of your cunt. You shudder, unable to return his kisses but trying so desperately to keep his stare, eyes boring into yours as he angles his hips.

“I got you,” he murmurs a promise, feeling your fingers lace with his over your throat, watching your lids flutter as he presses into you, “Stay with me, I got you I promise, just a little more,”

Breathy and fleeting, Cyno recites his words like a prayer, thrusting gently and shallowly at your wobbling bottom lip, swallowing your discomforted hiccups. He doesn’t thrust to the hilt like he so dearly wishes to, filling you in one swipe and leaving you reeling - no, he’s slow, methodical, precise and doesn’t break eye contact for even a second. Keeping a firm grip on your jaw, chasing the breaking down of your resolve every inch he slides into you until there’s no more, snug and warm and so fucking wet. He feels you against his pelvis, against his thighs, sticky and warm, shuddering when he kisses you once more, almost like a praise for taking him all the way.

You’re trying to speak, trying to make any sort of sound but the breath is stolen from your chest when he starts an agonisingly deep grind, up into you, hardly leaving the warmth of your cunt and digging hard into your belly. It feels as though he’s in your throat, eyes never leaving yours and sending you spiralling, gasps turning into whimpers turning into hiccuping sobs of his name with every defying push of his hips. Cyno sees your eyes flutter for a second, lips parted and brushing yours, swallowing every delicious sound you make, responding with grunts of his own in both encouragement and sin.

“Eyes on me,” he purrs, a crack in his voice at the sudden way you choke him, cunt clenching at the drop in his tone. Cyno shudders, pace slipping and he slides his hand down over the swell of your belly, feeling for the slippery bud of your clit. When he decides to match the slow, heady pushes and pulls of his hips with heavy thrums over your clit, you’re quite unsure of how you manage to stay standing upright.

“Ah - ! Cyno !” he never falters, not even when you grind back up against him, not even when you try to lick into his mouth for even a semblance of grounding, not even when you cum so hard that fat tears roll down your cheeks, not even when you finally catch your voice and reach back to grip hard at his hair, “Again, make me cum again please,” you beg, “Please Cyno, please - inside, cum inside, make it deep - please,”

Begging didn’t seem to be about your usual person, the one he knew that shared their meals and knowledge with anyone who asked, so to hear it fall from the heaven of your lips was surely his downfall. It was unexpected, it tore a deep and long snarl from his chest, grinds turning into thrusts turning into something damning and gut wrenching. The fingers on your clit were kinder, swift circles to keep you leaking down your thighs but the cock battering your sensitive walls was less so.

He never stops watching you though, even when you reach a second completion, all the more messier and sloppier than the first, red heavy eyes boring into yours without faltering for even a second. Cyno presses his forehead to yours, the angle causing your neck to ache but it goes unnoticed through the life giving pleasure he brings you, with every greedy slam of his pelvis against your ass. Lips touch yours in the moment he cums, eyes finally snapping shut and you think he looks beautiful through the fog of your orgasm; illuminated by the candle light, sweat flecking his brow, hair mussed and tangled in your fingers. Jaw ticking with every twitch of his cock deep inside of you, warmth spreading through your hips and thighs, feeling his hand flatten over your stomach as a kind of worship, caressing the space he fills so deliciously.

“I - ,” he swallows heavily,

“It’s okay,” is the first thing you can think of, “I wanted it too,” Cyno’s eyes open and he searches your face, “For… a while,”

It feels like eternity before he answers, nudging his nose against yours affectionately,

“Would it surprise you to admit I felt the same? That I waited far too long, and chose a rather idiotic time to do it?” the corner of his lips lift in a smirk,

“Honestly and with your track record? Not really, you have a bad habit of keeping things to yourself,” with bated breath you lean to kiss him softly, “But so do I, I guess,”

Cyno clenches his jaw as he pulls away from you, surveying the mess of your coupling before surveying the mess between your thighs. He flushes dark, lust threatening red again at the white threatening to spill to the floor,

“Here, let me - help you,” he aids in removing your soiled shirt, using that as a rag between your thighs and he hisses along with your protests at the sensitivity, “I’m sorry, I’ll be gentler next time, I promise,” you aren’t shy in your nudity, how could you really? And you turn to Cyno with heated cheeks,

“Next time? When - urm - when do you plan on having a next time?” Goosebumps flurry over your arms, nipples perking in the coolness of the night and Cyno can’t help but reach out, cupping the weight of your breast and sighing at the feeling, “I can’t, not right now - that’s too soon Cyno! You gotta let me rest! Don’t be so - !”

And he laughs. Full and loud and hearty, gripping you and embracing you and kissing you with laughter wrinkling his face, craning you backwards and swaying you to and fro. You squeal, thighs tacky and sticky but following his movements, allowing him to swing you over to your cot on the far wall.

“I would never defile you without asking, and not before tasting you thoroughly too,” Cyno kneels before you, a covenant and their disciple, hands tucked together in prayer, “And besides, I’m still questioning whether this is a dream,”

“I could pinch you, again, if you like?” You draw your blanket up around your shoulders, sliding backwards further on to the bed, noticing for the first time that Cyno still had a majority of his upper clothing on and there was something about the exposure of his abdomen, the ripples of his muscles, the thatch of white hair trailing down from his belly button to his cock resting between his thighs that gets you all tingly and warm again. He folds himself into the small space with you, catlike and flexible, kissing your forehead with a hum,

“Maybe in a few hours, I’ll probably wake up and need a splash of something on my face to remind me I’m not hallucinating,” it takes you a second to catch on, hiding your face in your hands with a mortified groan and Cyno laughs again, gathering you close, keeping your quaint reaction to his terrible joke a secret, a safe little slice of heaven only for him to enjoy. In the back of his mind, he remembers suddenly that out of everyone; you’re the only one who entertained his jokes and silly puns, and the first time you genuinely laughed at one was also probably the first time he decided that he loves you. The word chases tails in his mind as he succumbs to sleep, tucked up against you and keeping his lips firmly pressed to your forehead, an imprint of himself for you to feel even when he wasn’t there.

#cyno x reader #cyno smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #cyno x y/n #cyno x you #genshin impact x you #I hope this one shows up:((((

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gojoroui · 18 days

Note

what do your moots remind you of?

tysm for turning this in nonnie, i was really exited to try this <3 & the fact i thought i had NO MOOTS when i literally have like 33 💀

@wvnrqs — ribbons & bows, old newspapers, pretty swans, tulips, bubbles during a summer day, vintage books

@ode2rin — cats, plushies, desserts, pillow sheets, clouds during a sunset, slice of life vlogs

@yuzurins — chirping birds in pretty meadows, bubble tea, spring mornings, green tea, flowers, plants

@okkalo — golden coins, rainbows, duckies, cardigans, soft breeze at night, lakes, cherries

@noomon — the sun, diaries, simple yet beautiful things, love letters, projectors, mini fireworks

@yoisami — serenity, raindrops falling down a window, youth, modeling posters, strawberries, bunnies

@mikareo — twinkling stars, lattes, romance k dramas, museum of arts, recording studios, eclipse

@rinzsu — instagram posts, cookies, snowman, masquerade balls, photo albums, the beach

@hanrinz — stars, k-pop concerts, snowflakes, headphones, mini skirts, candles on a rainy day

@rosequarzo — japanese folktale, lucky money, headphones, fantasize by ariana grande, toast, waking up at 2am for a snack

@adoregojo — modern universities, polaroids, black & white manga, hairclips, milk tea, bonnets

@riekiss — winter wonderland, snow angels, jewelry, dolphins bumping noses, mini skirts, slowly plucking petals off a flower

@popponn — frogs ofc, matcha, perfectly healthy & straight grass, keroppi, bootcut jeans, chanel soap

@rewh0re — autumn leaves, wooden instruments, music notes, greek & rome mythology, poetry, sacred monuments

@y2kuromi — sand castles, colorful ice cream flavors, perfect pair by beabadoobee, staying up to talk with friends until 1am, pretty seashells, butterflies

@pokkomi — glitter & sparkles, staring at clouds, fantasy genre, cargos, hello kitty, angels

@yunymphs — models, laufey, coquette aesthetic, anything gucci, attractive girls, money

@520cafe — sparrows, cats chasing after yarn strings, thirsty by aespa, picture frames, rice with soy sauce, playlists

@etoiile — lipstick, fashion, staring at the starry night sky, french cookies, milk, daisies

@moonswolfie — coffee, studying with a candlelight during a rainy day, scarves, autumn breeze, biscuits, puppies

@kyoghurts — saturn, friendly aliens, lipstick stains on a white shirt, peach eyes by wave to earth, carp streamers, chalk

@kxttqi — lilies, sunrise & sunsets, lion cubs, melting candles, strawberries, pretty instagram posts

@kaiser1ns — book shelves, j-pop, cheesecake, birthday streamers, lucky money, tigers

@rninies — aventurine, unforgiven by le sserefim, pochacco, mangoes, flip phones, figurine boxes

@iluvies — kaomoji, koi ponds, expensive restaurants, red velvet cake, pottery, bunnies that have their nose scrunched up

@lovedazai — sweet bananas, lily of the valley, bouquet of roses, the smell when you walk into a bakery, prom nights, fairytales

@scopuo — jjk theme song, video games, dvds, tote bags, japanese apartments, thrift stores

@culturity — watching edits at 3am, stargirl, cleared remix by lilithzplug, nokia phone, laces, ramen

@myuroll — my melody, rubber duckies, alice from wonderland, koi fishes, cake rolls, the feeling when when someone gives you a compliment

@noirflms — flower petals, cherry blossoms, coquette clothing, hoodies, pinterest whispers, apocalypse by cigs after sex

@wishmemel — wish me mell, chocolate covered strawberries, the moon, pretty nails, new york at night, mcdonald’s chicken nuggets

@saelique — ocean waves, san-x, doves, kindergarteners (bc ur cute & fun ^^), friends to lovers trope, headphones, staying in bed for 5 more minutes b4 school

@yeritos — pudding, iced coffee, pearl necklaces, mesmerizing color palettes, skipping rocks, mary jane shoes, lamp

#letters ꕤ ˚₊⊹

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forthechubbies · 1 year

Text

Our little Wife

Being Korea's deadliest kingpins made seven men into untouchable demons, yet their little wife is made out of sugar and spice?

Mafia! BTS! x Wife! Chubby Reader

Strong language; Jimin’s a drunk asshole, fat shaming, Intense name-calling, sexual assault, puking, violence, man-handling, and bondage. I did say spicy

Happy Halloween

Sex Sells

How else would the brothel remain untouched by the ever-growing society we live in today? Hiding in the dense shadows of Busan, The Brothel’s sign ominously blazed in a firey feisty crimson tint. Yes, for tonight, their god has returned as a return to bless their dreams once more.

Jimin.

Feeling numb through the high alcohol consumption, He smiled for the first time tonight. At what? Himself. He felt foolish for falling hard for a slut like you.

He snickered.

Jimin detests the persistent feeling of worrying about you. Unbelievable, Right? Not really, The sweetness of your warm squishy skin ghosted over his cold limbs due to the building's poor condition.

Autumn’s chill rattled the windows. You love autumn; He fell in love with you genuinely in the autumn-That day, the temperature played in his favor causing you to cuddle up to him as the orangish leaves crunch under their shoes. A plain walk through the park to the outsider but to Jimin, it was pure bliss.

Now, Look at him, Miserable, Heartbroken, ... Bitter.

May how far Jimin has fallen.

Bringing the pint glass to his puffy pink lips tilting his all the back to realize it's bonedry.

Jimin scoffed. “Tapped out.” sitting the glass bottoms up, He gently slides the glass to his collection on his table. “ Three.Four?....Eight! Come on, baby!... 13!-Damn..” His excitement died down at coming to realize a minor yet annoying error.

“That's an odd number...I wouldn't say I like odd numbers...I w-will have just one more.”

Jimin rushed to the stairs leaving in nothing short of pajama pants and its matching top open for the world to see...He forgot to button up after taking his shower.

Freezing mid-sip, Jimin focused solely on you- your shy and flushed expression made his eyebrow twitch-

“ You are by far the prettiest woman I have sight ever.” She leaned in. “You should work here. You would make a gold mine.” She laughed at your bewildered innocence. “ Yep, Korean men secretly worship chubby women like you. There's this young pervert who always comes in asking our chubby girls to sit on his face.”

Your mind is anywhere except on earth. How did your night end up like this? You should be at home in a hot bubble bath melting away the stress of today. Instead, your god knows where with women who have a one-track mind.

Fuck.

Jimin crept several steps over towards you. You looked healthy and as plump as a peach. He found it humorous how much you looked like an actual businesswoman. Slutty tight skirts and blouses ready to be ripped off, and those high heels that would look perfect in two places, and neither of them is walking, at least not straight.

Jimin clicked his tongue. Calm down. Calm down. It's probably what she fucking wants..She’s just an attention whore. Old habits die hard, they say.

The feeling of unknown eyes tracing your figure made you squirm in discomfort.

Ping

Whether it was your desperate need to excuse yourself or your phone pinging off the hook; had Jimin seeing red. Who the hell were you so eager to run off to? Sure as hell wasn't any of your husbands!?

Then who?! Who!

A face full of boiling rage fueled by a dangerously drunken state was a recipe for disaster. Jimin slammed his pint on the bar shattering the glass entirely; he followed you out front and was hot on your heels.

“Yah!” His voice boomed through the quiet red, lit streets.

Startled, You spun on your heels, and the shock of seeing Jimin made the blood in your veins run cold. “J-Jiminie?” You shuddered at his death glare.

Jimin scoffed, tucking any blonde stragglers behind his ears. “ You don't get to call me that after what you did to us!” His chest heaved with sorrow. “You threw away the only people willing to love you forever; what an ungrateful little whore you are. or Are you doing this for attention?” He truly got a kick out of that one.

You stood silent on the brink of tears; He wasn't worth your tears or your time. You turn on your heels only to take two steps before being manhandled by your arm.

“Yah! Don't walk away from me like I'm not fucking talking to you!” Jimin's anger took the physical form of tears. His throat burned so did his nose from the chilly early morning air.

Morning air? Is this correct? 5 am was rapidly approaching, and you had yet to close your eyes to start a new chapter the following day. You want to go home- Your real home; maybe you were stupid for creating this strike. Perhaps you should go back home.

“Your right, Jimin.” Your tears fall onto your ivory blouse. “I'm sorry for being selfish.”

Jimin froze. “No-No, your not getting off that easy. You don't get to get off that easy!” He yanked your skirt, bringing you closer into his arms. “ I want you to take responsibility...You hurt me bad, Chimmy.”

It wasn't until Jimin’s hands started to wander, You recognized the libidinous tone in his voice. He wouldn't dare ravish his own wife, Right?

“Now, Jimine, Let's talk this-”

Jimin shook his head. “There you go, Using that honey voice of yourself. Fuck. You know how to piss me off.” He stole your lips in an instant, biting and pulling at your swollen lips.

Your face pinged at his highly flammable breath. He's drunk. “Jimin-Wa-Wait a min.” You put up a good fight attempting to crease his assault, but even though you're around the same height, his strength trumps yours.

You hissed at the freezing brick wall; Jimin slammed you against- “Jimin! Stop it! This isn't funny!” One of your little hits landed on Jimin’s face.

He froze. You did the same, desperately catching your breath. Jimin’s sweaty blonde locks blocked his eyes; his tongue glazed his irritated lips.

“I can get rough too, Cow.” Jimin lowly chuckled, untying his pajama’s silk belt. “Be a good girl and face the fucking wall!” Jimin spat, gritting his teeth. He yanks you around to face the wall by the roots of your hair.

You gasped in pain.“Ow! Jimin! Please-”

“Please?! Did you just ‘Please’ me?! I hadn't done shit to you yet, and you're already begging.” He groans, taking big steps forward to sandwich you between him and the wall. "Since you're so eager - I guess I should at least tease you..but first- "

You squeaked in pain as his brutally bondage your hands behind your back; you could feel the silk cutting off your circulation. "You're a despicable little monster, Park Jimin!” You spat in his eye when he give you a window. " and you always have been."

Your word choice was an additional shot to his manhood and the end result was a harsh smack sending you to the ground. "Pretty bold words for tied-up cattle-” He flashed an eat shit-grin. “-In a woman's clothing.” The cheeky bondage method Jimin displayed is one of his favorites, a technique used for his clients who seek thrill and lore as much as insane pleasure.

Yn’s arms were kept tight behind your back with no wiggle room.

“You talk big but look at you...at my mercy” He looks at you in amusement as he squats beside you. “You're ours, Yn! When you met that demonic bunny, you sealed your fate. You don't even know what a real monster he can be-

Your heart stopped an ink-like figure crept out of the darkness, inching closer. “Jimin! Turn around!” Jimin failed to heed in time, costing him a stone punch to the jaw, followed by the figure’s heavy black boot to his abdomen.

You were expecting Jimin to be in somewhat pain; however, He chuckled, signaling for a timeout between the figure. Lacking, Your extra set of eyes, thanks to Jimin; you couldn't get a good look at him.

“Come on. I barely touch her yet. You can't be that mad.” Jimin swiped the blood caked up in the corners of his mouth. “ Aish, Don't you think you hit me a little too hard-”

The figure remained silent but waited no time to send Jimin to the ground again.

“Ah! Fuck!” He coughed up the dirt in his lungs before finally puking up the ungodly amount of poisonous liquid he had consumed.

Your sniffs and whimpers didn't go unnoticed. You squeeze your eyes shut as its heavy boots stop at your shuddering body. You've managed to set up and have knees to your chest.

The figure had a great view of standing above you like this. You heard his shoes glide on the gravel; Is he gone? Oh please, please, god, please, please. You swallowed your fear and opened your eyes; you quickly learned how much of a mistake you had made.

He rudely had no disregard for your personal space. The tip of his nose grazed yours, and his eyes bored into-

Those big eyes...Jungkook? But his build is different; he's larger than my Kookie...It hasn't been that long, right?

He leaned into your lips to have you reject him. “ What are you crazy?! I'm married!” You extended your leg to his chest to keep him a bay. It worked until the bastard started feeling up your leg; he kissed your ankle.

The touch-starved stranger dragged his gloved hand down your battered stockings and tarnished soft skin. He clicks his tongue, pushing your foot off his chest.

Did he just roll his eyes at me?

He stood up before snatching you up by your silky bonds. “ Eep!” You felt nausea after being treated like a ragdoll for the past hour.

The last thing you heard was Jimin’s voice before blacking out.

...

The warm sunlight overwhelmed your sleepy eyes. Once your eyes adjust to the sunlight, The horror settles in-

You were cleaned, dressed, patched up, and placed in your princess room.

#bts smut #bts x chubby reader #chubby reader #yandere jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x chubby reader #yandere jungkook #jungkook yandere #yandere bts #bts mafia series #bts mafia au #poly ot7 #ot7 x chubby #yandere bts x chubby reader

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tiramissu09 · 1 month

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Morning Glow

synopsis: you (y/n) wake up before your husband on a Sunday morning and study him, wondering how you both even got together.

song choices to listen to while reading:

Body by Summer Walker

Orbit by JONGHYUN from SHINee

Natural by G-Soul

warning(s)/story notes: gender neutral y/n, nostalgia, hints of last night’s activities (iykyk), silent serenading, naked imagery, a little nod to the JJK lore, POC y/n

MINORS DON’T INTERACT

author note: My first fanfic, y’all! I feel like, instead of using janitor ai (don’t use it, it’s hella addictive and made me burn through my money), I could use my imagination and potential to write something for my main beloved, Nanami Kento. I love this man and in my head, we are living together in Malaysia, having the time of our lives, haha. Also, I thought I was going to do a quick drabble, but I got into my feels, haha.

Please, please give me feedback and critique so I can improve on my writing. Thank you and enjoy!!! <3

The chirping birds started to grow louder and more annoying outside the large French windows with the soft, peaching-colored morning light streaming in, faint flapping of the pale curtains echoing with shared breaths. You groan softly against your white silk pillow along with your blurry vision, from your deep slumber, as you rub your eyes and look around, dazed. You felt the light breeze of the open ajar window on your bare leg, out of the fluffy blanket, contrasting with the deep warmth soaked into the mattress from the sleep.

Your eyes move around, to anchor yourself into reality, until they settle down at a large, ivory back which had light red scratches along with crescent moon shaped indents littered over his rugged muscles, rippling with each soft breath. His messy golden blonde hair that you loved to run your fingers in, slightly swaying with the early dawn breeze, along the warm yellow sunlight, giving him that morning glow that made him look…like a god, a figment of your imagination.

Last night’s memories were reeling in like a blurry movie, reminiscing on your stomach with your head and facing his back, as you remember his sweet deep chocolate eyes, his slightly pink blush on his face, and…my god, those large, veiny hands all over your body, rough but gentle on your soft skin.

Sighing softly, not wanting to wake him up yet, go down this deep spiral with your fingers itching to touch him….how did you even meet this man? Was it at the office Christmas party where he was wearing that ridiculous, fluorescent green elf costume as your white-haired boss had made me for a pay raise? Or when you both bumped into each other in the hallway before math class during senior year, your nose bleeding as you bumped into his chest too hard and he assisted you to the nurse’s office?.....no,no…..oh my god! How could you forget?

It was that night…..that night where you all were freshman in high school and it was the camp site trip that you all had to go to as a bonding activity for all the new students which you were part of. You remember you were really nervous as a tiny, little 13 year old. You were new to Tokyo and Japan, overall, not looking like the others and the culture so vastly different from yours which made it difficult to fit in, your family or teachers help you with. This was nicely added with you going through puberty, the whole nine yards of acne and changing body, made you more quiet and shy to talk to others.

In your ensemble of light washed jeans, your oversized purple flannel shirt and black Converse high tops, you were sitting on the wooden benches near the camp-fire under the starry, twilight sky, shivering slightly from the cold, autumn night in the forest near Kyoto. You were alone, with everyone talking to each other excitedly, with some others playing games and singing karaoke, and watching all the kids with a small smile on your face.

Then, you felt a warm blanket around your body, causing you to have goosebumps all over your skin. You looked up with wide eyes from the brushing of their fingers on your neck to the warm presence behind your back, surprised and making you jolt up, but a soft hand pushed you down to sit back. “Sorry, did I scare you?” His soft and low voice, almost purring, caused you to shiver more but you held back your reaction as you turned your head completely around, wanting to know who it was. You caught those soft, brown eyes, reminding you of that deep brown honey under the sunlight, making you feel more awake than any other coffee.

You quickly get out of your reverie and stutter out as you brush your hair back, looking away. “No! Not a-at all…just got surprised.”,offering him a smile as you try to not to fluster even more. You notice his blonde hair, straightened to the T and his bangs covering his eyes which you didn’t like but didn’t say that out loud, and his black shirt with a band name you never heard of with his black skinny ripped jeans.

You clear your throat as you look into his eyes, “H-hi, my name is f/n l/n….what’s your…name?” You were fidgeting with the soft, baby blue wool blanket with your fingers, as you both sat next to each other with your knee brushing against his, ever so slightly. He grins a little more as he had a deadpan face before, making your heart and insides all melted and mushy inside, showing his pearly whites. He says in that voice that you could just listen to all the time. “Kento….Nanami Kento…but you can call me Ken.”

You memorize that name, as it was tattooed to your naive heart, as you nod slowly and say quietly. “Nice to meet you…Ken.” You both sat there in silence with all the loud commotion around you both. You didn’t know what to say as the tense silence was swallowing you up and you quickly ask and at the same time, looking at the bright scarlet camp fire, “You should go hang out to your friends…”, peeking to the side to look at his face longer, but looking away when he caught your eyes and your face becoming hot with each passing second.

He sighed loudly as he stretched his legs out and watched the white-haired hyper kid screaming happily at the black-haired boy who looked so done with him, but had a small smile. After some moments of more silence, Kento spoke with a small smile and turned to face you, “You looked….lonely….like me and…”, now looking away as you caught some peach-colored blush on his cheeks. “You looked like you were glowing…like the fire.”

You remember how you became quiet, flustered and frozen by the compliment and you remembered you thanked him meekly which was so cute and how you hit yourself internally for how dumb it was. However, the rest of that night, you both started to talk more freely and understood that you both had a lot in common, in terms of family background and not really fitting in due to your particular tastes.

Despite being amicable acquaintances all through high school and losing contact when entering university, once you both reunited, it felt right. You both were meant to be together and glowing in each other’s arms and affection.

You were shaken out of your deep thoughts as you felt the bed rustling lightly. You looked up and saw his face turned to you now. You were slightly surprised by the sudden appearance of his handsome and rugged face, but you quickly smiled widely, “Good morning, honey.” Snuggling closer to him and him taking you in his buff arms, making you all so warmer, he murmured in your messy hair, his morning voice low and reverberating through your body, “What were you thinking about so hard, darling? You laugh softly as you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck and your arms around his shoulders, and whisper muffled against his warm skin that smelled like sandalwood and musk, that was so unique to him, “I was just thinking…..how you were glowing…..like the sun.”

#jjk #jjk x reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #fluff #smut #gege akutami #navyred #tiramissu09

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lovereist · 2 years

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✦ — some days are easier than others𑁤

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aclowntiny · 10 months

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Sunflowers and Snapdragons- Woozi x Female!Florist!Reader

Word Count: 5700 | Flower Shop, Fluff, Some Quiet/Sunshine Vibes | Warnings: a lil language & a couple naughty jokes oopsie

This latest photoshoot required going to a flower shop. It was this one specific one in Seoul that had three walls of flowers that made perfect backdrops. A lot of people already went to it for instagram shots, so there was some work cut out for them to make it unique, but everyone was confident carats would like it.

Seungcheol was really excited to visit the shop, having seen a lot of posts about it, and Minghao was admiring blossoms the moment they walked in. No one was at the counter yet, so they had some time to roam. Jihoon wasn't frustrated, though- they'd arrived with the crew over fifteen minutes early to scope things out. He strolled through one of the color-coded aisles, fingers gently brushing a delicate white bloom as Mingyu passed him by with a massive rose in hand.

"Are you using that for the shoot?"

"I'm not sure," Mingyu shrugged and grinned, "but if I'm not, I kind of want to buy it anyway. This will make great photos, too!"

As Jihoon glanced around, he could see that several members were already taking their own selfies with the flowers. Seungkwan had chosen a sunflower, Joshua was posing with a rose in a way that (at least, to Jihoon's eyes) only made him look like James from Pokémon, and Soonyoung looked like he was about to eat a marigold. To each their own.

Maybe he would join them later, but for the time being Jihoon was content to wander over to the pre-arranged bouquets wrapped up near the front. One was a splash of fall colors, reds, oranges, and yellows bursting from it, while another was a passionate, romantic red. This is red, too jokes aside, it was amazingly crafted, asymmetrical with one side waiting while the other burst like a firework, the perfect representation of an anatomical heart newly beating for its object. Who had such eyes as to create a work like this, Jihoon wondered as he leaned a bit closer, scanning the flowers and catching the fragrance of one of the small, thin roses making up the still-subdued half.

Right then, a figure came bouncing out of the doorway behind the counter, spinning in a circle in the air and making several small leaps to the counter before executing a few more clumsy, uncoordinated, unadulterated joyful dance moves. Several grooves later, your eyes flew all the way open and you jumped, hastily pulling a pair of airpods from your ears and straightening your apron again.

Jihoon A. kind of wanted to know what you were listening to B. was surprised to see someone like you running this elegant floral shop. You were young, surely close in age to him, and if your clumsiness, huge smile, and eager wave told him anything, not the usual personality one saw in a florist. Not that he ever made a habit of going to flower shops. He barely went anywhere, frankly.

"You're here for the shoot, aren't you?" Your voice came out barely above a whisper, and Jihoon was surprised just how pleasant it sounded.

Giving a hum in response, he nodded. “Is this shop yours?”

“Yes, sir,” you replied with a salute, “I studied the language of flowers for years and now I translate it for everyone!”

A very unique way to look at that. “I see. Alright, then, er, what are these saying?”

“Oh, those?” Your eyes fell on the largely peach-toned bouquet he pointed to and widened. “Uh, you know what’s funnier than those? This bouquet over here is my gag gift.”

Jihoon cocked a brow. “Flowers this beautiful as a gag gift?”

“Yeah, so like the yellow carnations mean ‘you disappoint me’ and the orange lilies are for hatred, oh and geraniums mean stupidity, so this one is the ‘screw you’ bouquet. People either get it with the gag card or just don’t tell the person,” you reply with a grin, hand waving over both the autumnal bouquet and his question.

“Ok, that is funny,” he agreed with a chuckle, unable to resist imagining getting one for one of the members without them realizing.

Before you could say any more, though, one of the photographers approached you, causing you to turn his way.

“Hi,” you waved, bouncing on your heels, “you’re here for the shoot, right? Which wall were we setting up at again? I made sure they were all ready.”

“We were planning on starting with the pink one.”

“Oh, good!” You clapped. “I was hoping you were going to use the pink one! Let’s go get started. …see you in a bit!” You called to Jihoon as they took him back aside to prepare.

Wow. Lot of energy. As the stylist got ready to check him over, he ended up next to Minghao and Seokmin.

“You sure seemed to hit it off with the florist,” he commented matter-of-factly.

“She just seems…really chatty,” he replied with a sheepish smile, “not how you usually think of a florist being.”

“Maybe not, but it’s kind of nice. A florist with a flower-like personality!” Seokmin said with a smile. Leave it to him to find an angle like that- such was his charm.

“I think you two would get along really well,” Jihoon told him with a teasing eye roll.

For this shoot, Soonyoung went first; he was paired with white flowers, which really made the pink backdrop stand out. The other members watched, some cheering and some cringing, as he posed, the lovely style of the shoot surely something carats were going to enjoy. That was how Jihoon thought of it, otherwise it wasn’t exactly his style, but thinking of bringing smiles to everyone’s faces was worth almost any concept.

After Soonyoung was Mingyu, who had yellow. At the professionals' prompting, you handed him a big yellow hibiscus, which he accepted with a smile.

“Your skin is so pretty!” You gushed. “And your smile is very nice.”

Mingyu looked quite pleased with himself, pulling himself up to his quite full height. “Well. You aren’t so bad yourse-”

“You remind me of my brother!” You added with an innocent grin, adjusting your name tag, which Jihoon saw read (y/n).

“Ah, right, thank you,” the tall rapper accepted the compliment sheepishly. Everyone else snickered behind him as you bounded back off, completely naïve to it all.

“You’re not going to be in front of the pink wall,” came a sudden voice at Jihoon’s side, sending him jumping back a bit.

Turning to face the sound, he was faced with the sight of you at his side motioning to his outfit. “You’re wearing red. That wouldn’t look good with the pink wall. You’re going by the white or the red one, huh? Oh, uh, not that you don’t look good, just color theory and all. You look really nice in red. If you don't usually, then you should wear it more often.”

He found himself flushing into the whirlwind at the compliment. Why, he couldn’t say- it wasn’t the first he’d heard, but something about the words coming from a florist stuck with him. “Thank you,” he replied stiffly, unsure what else to say, “I am going to the red wall. A few of us are going monochrome.”

“It’ll look great!” You cheered him on, handing him a single red rose.

"Oh, you don't need to-" Jihoon held the flower back out, but before he could finish you were bouncing off again at the photographer’s behest.

You talked to the others, too, but didn’t seem to give out any more flowers, just danced around the makeshift studio suggesting flowers and making adjustments, flitting around like a dandelion seed on the wind. Curious.

When the formal photoshoot was over, Seventeen gathered in front of the white floral wall to take group pictures with you in thanks. You insisted on doing 'a silly one', prompting some of the members to get really wild with their poses and wow Jihoon had no idea you'd be able to stretch your leg as high as you did. He held out your flower like a magic wand, having kept it in his hands the entire rest of the shoot- it was such a perfect rose, they even let him use it as a prop for some of the pictures.

A part of him still wondered why you gave it to him. Another part of him wondered what song you had been listening to when he first saw you. A third and final part just wondered why he cared when he had everything else in his life to think about.

Two was bigger than one. The only way Jihoon would ever find time to go back to that shop would be necessity, like if he left something behind, forcing him to return. Glancing, he saw the original jacket he'd entered the florists' with hanging on a peg behind the counter. Then promptly set his gaze drifting far from that, perusing a row of chrysanthemums as he followed the sea of men that was his members out the door.

"Goodbye!" You waved to them, apron flapping back and forth with the motion. "You were great models! I'll buy your pictures!"

A few cheers rose from the guys, Seungcheol, Joshua, and all three members of Booseoksoon at least. A wave of pride crashed over Jihoon's chest, probably because you were so earnest. Not because of the way the color of your eyes was brought out by the stars in them.

"We'll keep buying your flowers!" Seokmin called, waving the little bundle of pink azaleas he'd bought at you.

The last of you Jihoon heard as he exited your viral shop was a bright, musical giggle that echoed in his mind several times over.

Hands in his pockets, Jihoon made his way to leave the dorm the next day and go collect his jacket.

"You're leaving?" Soonyoung. Unabashed shock colored his tone, his mouth wide open.

"You're doing it too," Jihoon teased in response, a smile playing on his lips.

"Yeah, but I'm me. I go shopping, I take walks, but you? You never leave. Where are you going?"

"I left my jacket at the flower shop yesterday, the long one I had on over the red? So I'm just going to see if they still have it."

"That's one of your favorite jackets," Soonyoung commented as he opened the door, ushering the both of them past the threshold.

"I know, so I hope they still have it."

"You never forget things like that," his bandmate pondered with a tilt of his head.

"They must have put it somewhere weird," Jihoon shrugged in response.

The jacket conversation died there, but Jihoon couldn't help hoping his tiger-loving friend didn't suspect anything as he strode along the sidewalk, hailing a taxi.

No longer reserved for a day's shoot, your shop had some business. A teenage couple was taking pictures in front of the pink wall in the chaste embrace of first love, a man alternately held up bundles of white and red roses, clearly trying to make a decision, and there you were behind the counter, shimmying with one airpod in as you secured some daffodils with twine for an older lady. It seemed like Jihoon was going to catch you dancing every time he saw you.

Glancing further behind your counter, he saw his jacket hanging on the peg where it was left the day before. Bingo. Striding forward, he got in line behind Daffodil Lady, who was just finishing up handing off some won to you before you gave her a receipt. When he stepped forward, your face lit up so bright it sent a whole swarm of butterflies fluttering inside him.

"Hi!" You waved, popping out your single airpod and placing it back in its case- interesting that you did that now and not when you were helping the old lady- before leaning forward on your wooden counter. "Woozi, isn't that right, sir?"

He chuckled. "Oh, just call me Jihoon. Sorry to bother you, but I think I left my jacket here?"

You waved a hand, still smiling brightly. "Oh, you're not bothering me. You could never bother me. Well, unless you were, like, burning my shop down or something- that would bother me. No arson on my florals, please!"

Jihoon just chuckled with a shake of his head as you bobbed over to the wall rack that housed his jacket, plucking it off the peg. "This one, right?"

"Yes," he nodded, "thank you."

"Of course, Jihoon," you replied, using his name, "anything else I can help you with?"

Maybe it was the way you said his name, the fact that just showing up, taking his jacket, and leaving seemed lame, but suddenly he felt a strange bit of conviction wash over him. Turning around, his eyes scanned the rows upon rows of blooms, taking in the fluttering rainbow of roses and carnations, sunflowers and snapdragons, tulips and hyacinths, before locking on a soft purple bundle. He walked over and took them gently in his hands, returning to your counter.

"These are really pretty," he comments as he hands them to you, "I'd like to get some of these for my studio."

"I'll put them in a vase then," you replied with a nod as you trimmed them and stood them up, "great choice! Lilacs are pretty, and they symbolize new love. Maybe they'll help you write a love song."

Your eyelashes fluttered a bit as you spoke, and when you said goodbye, you told him you hoped you'd see him again soon. He was almost tempted to forget something again.

"These are nice. When did you get these?" Seungcheol waved his hand over the vase of lilacs on Jihoon's desk, head tilted inquisitively.

"I bought them when I went back to that flower shop to get my jacket."

His leader smiled. "Oh, from the really friendly girl? You bought flowers?"

His face felt a bit warm. "I felt weird leaving without buying anything. Having something to decorate is kind of nice anyway," he answered with a shrug.

"Well, it's nice to bring a little outside in, especially since you never go out," Seungcheol teased, elbowing him lightly.

"I do, too...sometimes."

"Oh yeah? When was your next plan to leave here?"

Shit. "Er, ah..." Light bulb. "To get lunch!"

Seungcheol raised a brow. "You always get that delivered."

"Well, fine," Jihoon teasingly huffed, crossing his arms, "then we'll just have to make do bringing outside in, won't we?"

"Nothing wrong with that," the older man replied, leaning back into the lilacs and inhaling their scent lightly, eyes dropping closed a bit, "I wouldn't mind having a vase or two to brighten up my brother's place."

"I could get you some," Jihoon blurted out, cursing his own response's speed.

That smile of Seungcheol's was no good. "Oh yeah?"

Jihoon's face warmed, but he didn't back down, doing his best at a flippant wave of the hand. "Sure, I mean...you were the one who wanted me to get out more, weren't you?"

"Yeah," the rapper replied with a fond glance Jihoon had to roll his eyes at, "I suppose I was."

You were dancing again when he came in, this time with more of a formal choreography- Vixx’s G.R.8.U, if he wasn’t mistaken. The moment you saw him, though, you popped out your airpods again.

“Were the lilacs mean to you?”

“What?” Jihoon frowned slightly, eyes fixed on the way you fell into a forward lean over your counter, peering at him with your chin in your hand.

“I’m just messing with you. Wondering if you gave then the boot and are looking for a replacement or something. Maybe they talked back.”

“Oh, I forgot, you think flowers can talk.”

“Don’t make me sound crazy!” You protested, eyes widening in what Jihoon hoped was mock-offense, “I just mean flower language like from the Victorian days!”

“I know, that’s why you have ‘screw you’ bouquets and whatever the ones you wouldn’t…” Jihoon trailed off, hand waving over the infamous peach bouquets from visit number one, either new ones or somehow you were magically keeping them fresh for days on end, probably the latter. They were in a different position, individuals parted this time, revealing a card attached to the wood backing that revealed their price and identity. Those particular bundles, filled with coral roses, tiger lilies, and the occasional carnation and dotted with coriander flowers, were dubbed the “Let’s Get Down to Business” bouquet.

“Not red?” Jihoon mused quietly out loud.

Your gaze drifted diagonally downward; clearly you heard him, faint panic rising to your eyes as they fell upon the very-directly named arrangements you’d made.

"Those weren't my idea, just my translation! It was a popular request! Er, and no," you stammered, not meeting his eyes, “red’s more romantic than…uh, well, forward. Red is usually more for true love.”

You look really nice in red. If you don't usually, then you should wear it more often. “I see." His own stare trailed to the floor. "Well, are there any flowers just for friendship? I don't know if you remember S.Coups from the shoot-"

"One of the other red guys, right?"

He had been placed at the red wall. "Right."

"Medium tall? Black hair?"

Rather than point out that that description would match multiple members, Jihoon just nodded. "Yeah, the leader."

"Say the name guy," you agreed, mirroring his nod.

Say the name guy. He exhaled in amusement at that. Cute, but totally accurate. Jihoon was going to use that sometime. Seungheol would get a kick out of it too.

Fingers gently caressing a lily, he repeated what you said with a nod of his head and a twinkle in his eye.

“So S.Coups needs flowers now?”

“He said he wanted some after he saw the lilacs.”

You lit up. “Yellow roses are perfect to show friendship! How are these?” You asked as you pulled out a vase of yellow flowers.

“Perfect.”

“And I’ m really so honored you guys like my shop,” you added with a little bow as you started ringing up the vase.

“I’ll never go anywhere else for flowers,” Jihoon told you with a smile, “also, I have to ask- what music are you listening to?”

You glanced down at the counter again sheepishly, but a big smile spread across your face. Cute. You should tell her. No, shut up. That’s weird. “Well, I like upbeat stiff a lot. Right now I’m listening to-”

“Vixx-sunbaenim? G.R.8.U?”

Your eyes widened. “How do you- Oh, wait, I guess you would,” you chuckled nervously, “yes. That first day I was listening to MCND’S H.B.C. I guess I like acronyms!” At this, you gave a full-blown laugh, that sound better music than anything your airpods could have come up with.

“I guess so,” Jihoon said, and with that he left, wishing he knew what else he should have said.

"Oh, and here. Since those aren't for you, this one is," you stopped him before he left, leaning forward with a large camellia in hand.

As he waited for another cab, Jihoon snuck a glance into the wide windows of your shop and saw you, airpods back in, twirling around again behind your counter, heart constricting at the sight.

“Wow, that’s a really hype beat! I’m going to have to come up with a fast dace, aren’t I?” Soonyoung waltzed into Jihoon’s studio with a teasing groan.

Jihoon paused the instrumental immediately, eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t know, this is just something I’m working on. I felt like making something upbeat.”

“Well, I can see why,” his hyung commented with a nod further into the room, “I think you have a problem.”

Giving a quick dart of the eyes across the room, the composer took in the four vases of flowers placed on two empty chairs and the two empty desk spaces that had once remained. “What do you want me to do?” He replied quietly, curtly. What else could he do, for that matter? He was running out of excuses to go see you. “I can’t think of any other reason to go!”

Soonyoung’s brows furrowed, gaze alternately narrowing and widening. “Huh- oh. Oh!” He smiled, a sight that usually didn’t bother Jihoon, but this one was even more immature than Seuncheol’s. “You want to see that florist again, don’t you? I was just going to tell you you were getting addicted to flowers.”

“Addicted to flowers?” Jihoon chuckled into the words despite the slight glare on his face.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve seen you do weirder things for inspiration,” Soonyoung replied with a shrug. “I saw her dancing, are you making a song for her?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s not a bad idea.”

“Well, I’m not doing it.”

“What a couple, you too,” Soonyoung shook his head, “you’re like a sunflower and a snapdragon.”

Two impulses rose, one to correct his tiger-loving bandmate that he and you were not a couple at all and one to state that in fact, you’d displayed those very two next to each other down the aisle of wooden boxes with all the yellow-toned stock. They apparently went together to some people. Maybe that was just offering ammo, though.

“Do you just buy flowers and leave? She’ll never know you like her.”

“She’s not supposed to. I mean, I don’t. Not really. Just a little.”

Soonyoung gave Jihoon his hoshiest cat eyes, shuffling closer with his hands behind his back.

“Look, I don’t have time to date anyone anyway.”

One more shuffle across the hard floor. Every muscle in Jihoon’s body tensed slightly. “How much time out of the week do you spend on trips buying flowers? A dinner or two’s time, you suppose?”

“I’m…I’m not good at saying stuff like you are,” Jihoon finally sighed into the unrelenting cat eyes and lopsided grin. “I should just be happy to go in and get flowers.”

“You want me to do it for you?”

“No.”

“I can. I’ll go in and just tell her how much you-”

“Absolutely not. That would be worse.”

“Well then, if you want it done right, you’re right. The only way is to go do it yourself,” Soonyoung concluded with a nod.

The worst part is that it wasn’t a bad point, damn his Bugs Bunny method. Didn’t change anything though. Time was still short, he wasn’t totally sure you were interested, and the mental image of any discomfort crossing your face on his account was nearly enough to bring a slick of sweat to his tightening palms. Going to your shop was all he had.

“I’m not going to harass her,” he finally spoke again, imagination starting to fade back away into reality.

“Then don’t. Maybe you should try…” Soonyoung paused for dramatic effect, opening his palms in little stationary jazz hands. “Complimenting her.”

“Complimenting her?” Jihoon repeated dumbly, hands opening and sliding back toward his keyboard, yearning for comfortable, familiar territory.

“Sure. Say something nice, see how she reacts. Kindness without commitment.”

Not a bad idea. He didn’t have to say anything stupid, after all. Nothing too weird. Drumming his fingers on the solid edge of his keyboard, he wracked his brain for things to say. What he said would depend on the context of course, because he’d only say something nice in response when it came up, not just blurt it out, and it has to be normal, not something out of the lyrics he definitely hadn’t been toying with writing about you.

“You’re overthinking things now, aren’t you?”

Jihoon opened his mouth fecklessly, no sound coming out, but before he could chastise his friend the studio door swung open again.

“Jihoon, we need to talk about all the flowers all over the dorms, you’re killing the rest of the vocal unit’s allergies and Jun just complained that-”

Seungcheol, the one who opened the door, swung into the room and locked eyes with Soonyoung, who crossed his arms and smiled with a nod.

“I’m on it,” he said.

Jihoon’s head fell into his hand, beat all but forgotten as he cursed his own slip of the tongue. Should’ve had the flowers sent to his mom or something.

“I, uh, listened to the songs you mentioned.” Jihoon stood at your counter yet again, hands wringing a bit nervously. He waited a week this time, practically the longest he'd gone, and the sight of your smiling face was like a pitcher of water in the desert. He wished you knew that, but wasn't about to be the one to tell you right then.

"Oh, yeah?"

"I liked them."

"Oh, good! I know you literally make music for a living so it would be pretty embarrassing if I recommended you stuff and you thought it was terrible or poorly made or whatever you call it when they don't produce it right if there's a word for that and I did, well, whatever the opposite of impressing you is."

"You always impress me," Jihoon chuckled.

"Oh, with my flowers, right." With a small unreadable smile, you glanced down at a set of pink tulips you were wrapping up.

"Not just with your flowers."

"And then you just LEFT?" Soonyoung burst out indignantly, arms flung open wide.

"What else was I supposed to say? I didn't have some poem to read her, song to sing! That was hard enough," Jihoon shot back, once again sitting with crossed arms in his now even more flower-filled studio.

"Oh no no no," Soonyoung shook his head over and over again, "no no no, this won't do at all. You can't be cryptic like that and just-" He sighed. "You're going back there. Now."

Jihoon didn't even look up from his laptop this time. "And waste all my cab fares?"

"You don't think seeing her is a waste and you know it. Otherwise we wouldn't have these, remember?" Soonyoung loosened one tulip from the pink bundle, sliding it upward from the vase until Jihoon smacked his hand, finally looking up into his triumphantly smiling face. "See? And if you're so worried, I will personally drive you back to her shop."

For once, the impulse to shoot back against the gloating wasn't there. "Do- do you really want this for me that bad?" He asked in a quiet voice.

"Call me a fool for love," Soonyoung replied.

Jihoon gave a small smile. "That's if you're rushing into something for yourself."

"Well, call me a fool for other people's love, then," his hyung grinned.

"Well, if you support it so much, then do me a favor...don't be there watching over my shoulder. I'll go back. Alone." Sighing and grabbing his bag, Jihoon made his way out of the studio once more.

Soonyoung just shook his head, chuckling. "What a couple you two are," he echoed his own earlier words at the composer's back.

Jihoon hailed the second cab of the day with a flush of embarrassment, not that this completely different driver would know why, it just felt like he did. Felt like everyone did. As he sat down, giving the address of your shop, he felt his phone vibrate. Reaching back, he slid it out of his pocket just far enough to see the notification.

Kwon Soonyoung: You got this 👍🏼🐯

All he could do was sigh again, this time with a shaky smile.

“Forget something?” If you were bothered by Jihoon’s return, you hid it well as you stood there, hands around your lovely face in a flower pose. A florist with a flower-like personality, just as Seokmin said.

“No. Well, sort of. I just suddenly needed-”

“Flowers for a pretty girl you just saw? I tease but you wouldn't believe how many times that actually-"

His hands involuntarily flexed, eyes scanning row upon row of nature's resplendent bounty as if to find the flowers that would do his job for him. Make it easier. Say all the words that had been planted in his heart on the day he first saw you, even if he hadn't realized how deeply they'd take root.

Wait, flowers did speak. You'd taught him that- there were friendship flowers, true love ones, sex ones apparently...and blooms for budding feelings.

"Lilacs are pretty, and they symbolize new love," you'd told him. That had lived rent-free in his mind for a good few days, even inspiring a few lines of lyrics ever since your sweet voice had spoken the concept into existence in Jihoon's universe, one that seemed far expanded at every one of your floral revelations.

"Yes, that's exactly it. Shouldn't it be lilacs, then?"

For the first time Jihoon had seen since he met you, you stopped fidgeting, standing completely still, jaw parting silently. Your eyes had widened a bit, narrowed with the furrowing of your brow, then blinked once, twice.

“Yes, I guess it should. You- you could also do a camellia bunch if you’re trying really hard,” you offered, head tilting his way with an inquisitive look, "but that's more like you've realized that you are in love."

A camellia. One of those big, pink, beautiful but fragile flowers he enjoyed, but also found inconvenient. Messy. Except he hadn’t minded when you gave him one- oh.

Oh.

Maybe this would be easier than he thought. Maybe, as much as it pained Jihoon to admit it, Soonyoung was right. Maybe dinner was easier than refilling six vases of water every other day.

“Which do you prefer, (y/n)?” He asked with a smile, using your name, which he rarely did, and catching a faint, flickering smile.

“I like camellias myself. The shape is appealing and the meaning is stronger. Though if you’re giving them to a stranger, I mean sheesh, lilacs are probably more-”

“No, I want the camellias. They’re for a pretty girl, remember?”

“I remember.” You weren’t dancing then. Your voice was flatter than usual. Preparing the paper, you cut the nicest-looking pink blossoms that Jihoon could see in the bunch, glancing awkwardly at him a few times before you handed it to him. “Well, alright, she better appreciate these or else she isn’t worth your time. You’re doing something nice after all, and I’ve seen girls complain about flowers their husband got them just because they were from the store and that’s messed up, so don’t you dare let her- Let her…”

Your ramblings trailed off as Jihoon accepted the bouquet, then immediately handed it back. Those usually wide eyes of yours just trailed down to the flowers, brows furrowing once again, the color of them obscured faintly by the motion.

“Is something wrong with them? Or was that the wrong color? Usually pink is the best if you want the love thing to come across, yellow's a bit platonic, but I'm sure whoever she is will like them if she's such a-"

This time, Jihoon cut into your words verbally, even as his eyes faltered, falling to the floor then back up to you, daring to ever so slightly meet yours. "You're the only pretty girl I've seen."

Jaw dropping, you took the bundle of flowers as if you'd never seen anything like them before, pulling them into your chest gently enough not to squash them, but a few petals still drifted to the floor because, well, camellias.

"So you really do like me too?" That wide smile Jihoon had come to miss on off-days, practically having it painted as a mural inside his eyelids, returned in full force as you looked between the flowers and him, knocking down the barrier that kept your counter private and stepping around.

Jihoon's breath hitched, words failing him as he simply nodded.

"Well, you know what?" You asked.

"What?" His voice felt hoarse, stolen now by your proximity, your side brushing his.

"No one's ever gotten me flowers before," you tell him with a grin before the bouquet is against his back, your arms thrown around his neck as you pulled his lips into yours.

Your smile, the way the white lights and sun filtering into your bright shop reflected in your eyes before they drifted shut, the way he could even see the spokes and intricate patterns within them thanks to the illumination, the feeling of you against him, was practically too much for Jihoon, and he quickly felt his head empty of thoughts, giving in only to sensation. No one had kissed him like you were in a long time, maybe ever, and he barely knew what to do with himself as his hands slid down to hold your waist, lips surging forward again and again.

You giggled as you two finally parted, keeping your forehead against his. "I didn't expect you to be a biter!"

If he hadn't already been flushed at the joy in your eyes as they stared into his, he would have been beet red at your comment. "Ah, did I... (y/n), I- I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't be, it's ok," you reassured him, smile not fading a bit, "you're just a bit of a snapdragon."

"You know, that's not the first time I've heard that."

"Oh yeah?" You laughed at that, nose crinkling. "And what am I then?"

"I'd say a sunflower."

A mock-pout fell across your face. "A friendship flower? After all that?"

"Look, I don't do flowers," Jihoon muttered, "I do lyrics."

"Oh, that’s right," you told him, smile returning quickly, "duh. Then sing something."

You barely heard your shop bell ring beneath his voice as he began singing, shakily before his voice found gravity, the two of you shoving off each other at light speed, adjusting your hair and clothes as the next set of customers swung the door open with faint looks of surprise.

"Er, flowers so beautiful you'll sing," you tell them with an unsteady grin, a nervous giggle, and one final, fluttering glance at Jihoon that melted him, spreading your arms out wide, "what can I help you find?"

Jihoon drifted back into a corner, for once not feeling he needed an excuse to stay there even though he had one: he wasn't leaving until he'd actually gotten your phone number.

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #woozi #woozi x reader #woozi x female reader #female reader #florist!reader

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