Touch starved Bucky who arrived at the tower a couple months ago and everyone keeps avoiding him except us. One day we come back from a mission and just crawl onto his lap, bury our face into the crook of his neck and fall asleep. He stays up all night staying still so he doesn’t wake us up and just rubs our back.
Thanks!
He arrives quietly.
That’s the first thing you notice about him—the way Bucky Barnes slips into the tower like a ghost that forgot how to haunt properly. No announcement. No jokes. No easy smiles. Just the soft mechanical whirr of the elevator and the faint, almost apologetic sound of boots against polished floors.
The team tries. You can tell they do. They greet him, nod at him, offer him space that’s a little too wide and smiles that don’t quite reach their eyes. No one knows where to put their hands around him, so they keep them firmly to themselves. Conversations die when he enters rooms. Chairs scrape back just a bit too far when he sits down. It’s all very polite. Very careful.
And very lonely.
You notice that too.
It’s in the way he keeps his arms folded tight across his chest, like he’s holding himself together. In how he always chooses the edge of the couch, perching instead of relaxing. In the way his shoulders tense whenever someone brushes past him by accident, as if touch is something to brace for instead of something to want.
He’s been here two months when you finally stop pretending you don’t see it.
Maybe it’s selfish—maybe you’re just tired of the way missions chew you up and spit you back out raw and aching. Maybe you’re touch-starved too, in your own way. Or maybe it’s as simple as this: every time you sit beside him, he leans in a fraction of an inch without realizing it.
So you sit beside him. Always.
You don’t force conversation. You don’t ask questions he isn’t ready to answer. You just exist near him. Your shoulder brushing his arm during movie nights. Your knee knocking into his under the table. Small things. Normal things. Things that make him freeze at first—and then, slowly, breathe.
He never pulls away.
The mission that breaks you is supposed to be routine. In and out. Clean. Instead, it’s loud and messy and exhausting, and by the time you’re back at the tower your adrenaline has burned off, leaving nothing but bone-deep fatigue in its wake.
The common room is dim when you wander in, lights low, city glowing beyond the windows. Bucky is there, as usual, sitting on the couch like he’s not sure he belongs to it. His head lifts when he hears you, blue eyes softening instantly.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
You nod, even though your body feels like it’s made of lead. You don’t trust your voice, so you don’t answer. Instead, you drop your gear by the door and walk straight to him.
He barely has time to shift before you’re climbing onto his lap.
It’s not dramatic. You don’t think about it. You just turn sideways, knees pressing into the couch cushions, and settle your weight against his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Your face finds the crook of his neck, warm and solid and real, and you breathe him in—soap and gun oil and something unmistakably him.
You sigh.
Bucky goes completely still.
For one heartbeat. Two.
Then his arms come up—not all at once, but slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid sudden movement will scare you away. One arm circles your waist, tentative. The other rests awkwardly along your back, metal cool even through your suit.
“Hey,” he murmurs, unsure. “You… uh…”
You don’t answer. Your breathing evens out, exhaustion dragging you under faster than you can fight it. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself, and you’re asleep before he can finish the sentence.
Bucky doesn’t move.
He doesn’t even breathe deeply at first. He stares ahead, eyes wide, heart pounding like he’s just come back from a firefight. Your weight on him is warm and grounding and terrifying all at once. He’s scared to blink, scared that if he shifts even an inch you’ll wake up and realize what you’ve done and pull away.
So he stays.
Minutes stretch into hours. The city lights change outside the windows, traffic thinning, the tower sinking into its nighttime hush. His legs go numb. His back aches. He doesn’t care.
Your face is tucked against his neck, breath ghosting over his skin. Every exhale makes something in his chest ache in a way that’s sharp and sweet all at once. No one’s held him like this in… he can’t remember. Maybe ever. Not without expectation. Not without fear.
His hand finally starts to move when he’s sure you’re deeply asleep.
Just a small motion. Fingers brushing up and down your back in slow, careful strokes. Over your spine. Along your shoulder blades. Reassuring, rhythmic. The kind of touch meant to soothe, not claim.
You make a tiny sound in your sleep and melt closer.
Bucky swallows hard.
He stays awake all night.
He watches the room darken completely, listens to the quiet hum of the tower settling, memorizes the weight of you against him like he’s afraid it might disappear if he doesn’t hold onto it tight enough. His hand never stops moving, even when his eyes burn with exhaustion.
When morning light finally creeps in through the windows, painting everything soft gold, he feels something unfamiliar bloom in his chest.
Peace.
For the first time since he arrived, he doesn’t feel like something the tower is tolerating.
He feels wanted.
And when you stir a little, nose brushing his throat, arms tightening around him in your sleep, Bucky smiles—small and stunned and achingly real—and keeps rubbing your back, still as a statue, grateful for every second you choose to stay.
hello!!! i rlly like ur writing!! can i request jing yuan and mydei with a fem!reader who they’re arranged to get married too who’s distrustful of everyone but slowly falls in love with them? like maybe jing yuan/mydei learn abt the reader’s interests like her fav jewelry and what kind of clothes she likes or her food preferences which she isnt used to being the one receiving affection and is skeptical at first but ends up trusting and falling for them? im a sucker for arranged marriage to lovers ahaha anyway tyy for feeding us so much hsr content im always fed by ur posts
To Be Chosen, Not Commanded
Tags: Mydei x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Female!Reader Arranged Marriage to Lovers, Slow Burn Romance, Reader is Distrustful/Emotionally Guarded, Soft Romance/Emotional Intimacy, Gentle Affection, Mutual Respect, Subtle Flirting, Soft Angst with Comfort, Learning Each Other’s Love Language, Reader Finds Safety in Love, Fluff with Depth.
Warnings: Emotional Guardedness/Trust Issues, Mentions of War/Political Alliances, Implied Past Trauma/Betrayal, Mentions of Death (comrades, past losses), Power Dynamics (though handled with mutual respect and consent), Cultural Displacement/Reader Feeling Like an Outsider, Mild Themes of Isolation.
A/N: God, I love these types of tropes 🙏🙏
The Kremnoan banner never flew at your wedding. That had been your one condition.
You didn't trust Mydei—Mydeimos, as the ancient texts named him. The Last Prince. Guardian of Amphoreus. A legend wrapped in golden armor and red war paint. He was a man burdened by prophecy and war, not fit to share a quiet future with someone like you, let alone a throne.
Yet the alliance between your city and the remnants of Castrum Kremnos depended on this union. So, reluctantly, you said yes.
The first weeks were civil. He never overstepped. He never touched you unless you offered a hand, and even then, his fingers hovered like you were made of ash and might vanish in the wind.
But then you noticed the little things.
At the banquet in Okhema, your favorite drink—appeared quietly beside your plate. Mydei said nothing. But when you looked up, he was already sipping a strange mixture of pomegranate juice with goat’s milk and grated cheese, a flicker of amusement in his golden eyes.
Days later, a gift awaited you in your quarters: a pendant, etched with subtle flame motifs, not gaudy like the Kremnoan jewels you'd always hated, but elegant—crafted in the style of your mother's homeland. A note attached read: "Not all flames burn. Some simply warm."
You found him outside, sparring shirtless beneath the moon, tribal markings alive beneath the sweat of combat. His gaze flicked to you, but he didn’t speak.
You approached. “How did you know about the drink? Or the necklace?”
“I listen,” he said, tone matter-of-fact. “You never speak your trust. So I learned to read the silences.”
That night, when he knelt beside your bed to wrap a protective ward before your journey to Okhema, you touched his shoulder. Just for a moment. A simple press of your palm to armor-worn skin.
“You’re still a stranger,” you whispered.
He nodded, voice low. “Then let me remain one—until you decide to name me something more.”
And you did, slowly.
In firelit war camps, where he combed blood from your hair with patient fingers. In quiet hours when he taught you the names of fallen stars. In the way he never claimed your hand in public, only offering it—every time—with a look that asked, "May I?"
You trusted no one.
Until Mydei proved he was worth trusting—not because of a title, but because he asked for nothing you weren’t willing to give.
When the match was proposed, you thought it a trap.
And when the black tide finally surged, when all of Amphoreus burned behind you, you rode beside him—not as a reluctant bride, but as a queen who had chosen her lion.
Marrying the Divine Foresight? The man whose very title suggested he saw everything—including your vulnerabilities?
You arrived on the Xianzhou Luofu with guarded eyes and a frozen heart. Jing Yuan greeted you with a polite bow, all silver hair and golden eyes too serene to trust.
He didn’t touch you. Didn’t press. He just smiled—the kind of smile that could be a weapon or a kindness, and you couldn't tell which.
He let you keep your own residence. He never summoned you to dinners or ceremonies without a personal message asking for your preference. You hated that.
You were used to men demanding. Kings. Lords. Even supposed suitors. Jing Yuan didn’t demand.
He simply waited.
Until one day, a Cloud Knight appeared at your door with a delicate, custom-embroidered robe. Not in Luofu colors, but stitched with your favorite shade(s) and edged with subtle patterns from your homeland’s flora.
You confronted him.
“Why would you give me this? I never asked for it.”
He was feeding Snowmoon, the rumored lion who immediately curled around your legs, purring.
“I observed you admiring a merchant’s fabric three weeks ago. You ran your fingers over the silk, but didn’t buy it. I asked Tailor Zhen to recreate it.”
You faltered. “Why?”
He didn’t look at you. “You seemed… tired of being unnoticed.”
He was right. And you hated that.
But then it continued.
He stopped your meals from including ginger—you hated ginger, and you hadn’t said a word. He gifted you a hairpin crafted like a quill when he discovered you journaled. He started sending poetry, not romantic, but clever, often teasing, sometimes wistful.
And one night, when you wandered the Luofu gardens and found him asleep against a tree, scrolls scattered and a blade by his side, you sat beside him.
“Why are you so patient with me?”
Jing Yuan opened one eye. “Because I am in no rush to win you—I am only waiting for you to realize you were never alone.”
That night, you stayed. Not out of obligation. Not for the alliance.
But because for the first time, you weren’t being pursued—you were being understood.
And slowly, steadily, you began to fall.
The "Dozing General" never forced you to love him. He simply built a world where you felt safe enough to try.
♡ Jaafar never lets you pay. It doesn't matter what it is: coffee, dinner, movie tickets, random snacks you grabbed while walking around. The second you reach for your purse, he's already paid for it. At some point, you stop trying because you know you're not winning that argument.
♡ Jaafar is a complete gentleman. Opening doors, pulling out your chair, helping you take off your jacket, walking on the outside of the sidewalk closest to the street. Not because he's trying to impress you, but because that's how he was raised.
♡ He was so nervous before your first date. Scared, nervous, desperate to impress you, he kept changing outfits, overthinking every little detail, and asking for advice from jermajesty that he was probably going to ignore anyway.
♡ Gym dates are very common. Sometimes you're both actually working out. Most of the other times you're spending more time talking and joking rather than exercising.
♡ Food dates are one of his favorites. Trying new restaurants, finding little spots, ordering way too much food for just two people, and stealing off of each other's plates even though you both ordered your own food. (loves to buy different types of pizza each and split it)
♡ Family day dates are a huge thing for him. Whether it's spending time with his family, attending family events like barbecues, or just hanging out together (family movie night), he loves including you in that part of his life.
♡ Movie dates are incredibly romantic with him. You're cuddled up watching something sweet and making commentary through the entire movie.
♡ He knew he wanted to marry you in the middle of your first date. He'll deny how quickly it happened if anybody asks, but years later he can still remember every detail from that night.
♡ He takes anniversaries VERY seriously. One month. Three months. Six months. One year. He remembers all of them.
♡ He loves matching outfits or color coordinating with you. He'll pretend it's an accident, but somehow the two of you always end up looking like a Pinterest board.
♡ He remembers everything. The first thing you ordered together, the first movie you watched, your favorite snacks, random stories you've told him months ago. When you ask him about it the first time, he said, “Everything about you is worth remembering” (oh lord why can't I have him)
♡ His phone is full of photos of you. Not because he wants to post them. He just likes capturing little moments that make him happy so he can look back at them. (I just thought about his ass while writing that line)
♡ His love language is quality time. He doesn't need some huge date every week. Sometimes his favorite dates are the small ones where it's just the two of you relaxing together.
Extras ♡
♡ If you're a Michael fan, he thinks it's so funny. The first time you start talking about Michael with so much excitement, he's trying so hard not to laugh because you're sitting there talking about his uncle.
♡ He smells amazingly good. The type of cologne that stays on hoodies, jackets, and car seats even days later, no matter how many people use it or wear it after him.
♡ He only lets you touch his hair and only you; everybody notices and won't stop teasing him about it, especially his brothers.
♡ Jaafar, who loves having you sit on his lap whenever the two of you are alone. At first, it starts innocently enough. You're playing with his hair while he's scrolling on his phone, your legs in his lap, his arms around your waist. Then he starts pressing kisses against your neck. One. Then another. Then another. Lower than the last. And every single time he feels you pause for a second with your hands still in his hair, he gets this little smile on his face because he knows exactly what he's doin." ♡
I would like to request some fluffy established relationship headcanons for Aven, Phainon and Stella (my queen 🤲🐥💛🥹) hehe, take your time with this req! 🤭🫶💖
Information : My "fluffy" Established Relationship headcanons! It's been several years since I've written a request, I hope this is to your satisfaction, my Beloved. I’m sure it’s somewhat ooc, and I apologize if it’s chaotic or repetitive! 🥲💙🫶
Tags : Fluff, Emotional vulnerability, Doubt, Comfort, Established Relationship, Intimacy, mutual respect, supportive relationships, gentle affection, etc. I'm terrible at tags.
Subject: Aventurine | Love Language: Gift giving
Aventurine’s love language is unmistakably rooted in "gift-giving." He is a man who equates his self-worth with his financial success, and there’s a certain joy that radiates from him when he showers you with lavish presents. Each carefully chosen gift is not just an object; it symbolizes his affection and desire to indulge you, reinforcing his sense of pride and fulfillment in the relationship.
He is a man who possesses an uncanny ability to read your gaze, effortlessly guiding you through the vibrant store aisles filled with colorful fabrics and stylish garments. As he strolls alongside you, his keen eye catches sight of various pieces of clothing, and he eagerly presents them to you, his enthusiasm infectious. If you express even the slightest interest in a particular item, he insists on purchasing it for you, his generosity unwavering, no matter the cost.
Should you politely decline his offer, he remains undeterred. With a patient smile, he waits for a moment when your attention is elsewhere, and by the morning light, you might discover the very piece of clothing you hesitated over, neatly folded on your bed as if waiting for you. Alternatively, you may receive a discreet text message, a playful hint teasing you about a delightful surprise eagerly awaiting you once you complete your work or studies.
He is a man who takes pride in flaunting you as his own, to the point where it sometimes borders on possessiveness. With a broad grin, he delights in the attention you attract, wrapping his arm around your waist in public and speaking with intention—louder so that those around you can hear. He clings desperately to his last chip, fully aware that without his luck, he feels lost. Without you, what does he have left? You belong to him, just as he belongs to you. It will take time for him to embrace himself, as he is already capable of doing for you.
He is a man whose every intention is to make you feel beautiful, help you stand out, and remind himself that you belong to him. He struggles to understand the concept of love and the idea of someone truly cherishing him. To him, you are a gamble, a thrill he cannot resist, no matter how hard he once tried. He is completely wrapped around your finger.
He is a man who once believed that he could rely solely on his good fortune, as he felt he had nothing else to offer. Or rather, he once had nothing. Now, however, he has more to lose than ever before: you. You have become his top priority for as long as your relationship continues.
He is a man who misses his partner dearly, finding that every little detail in his life somehow reminds him of you. Little by little, he begins to enjoy his life again; every gamble he wins becomes money to be spent on you. You have become his reason for living. Each time he is able to care for his own needs, he feels secure, knowing that you are happiest when he is healthy. You make him whole, serving as a beacon of light in his once-darkened world of solitude. In your presence, he often drops his usual confident facade and smooth talk; whether through his words or actions, he becomes more genuine. He may speak less, carefully choosing his words to ensure they are sincere rather than deceptive.
He is a man who endlessly praises your body and your character. He possesses a genuine love that is free from fabrication or deceit; he truly treasures it. Surprisingly, he is more hesitant when it comes to receiving physical touch than one might expect. In a committed relationship, every move he makes is carefully calculated to elicit a reaction from you. He kisses your fingers delicately, appreciates your every imperfection, and gently trails his kisses toward your knuckles before resting his forehead against the back of your hand.
He is a man who melts into your embrace over time. At first, his body may feel stiff when you take him into your arms, but soon a wave of ease washes over him, and he returns the embrace with an amused comment laced with desire. He craves your arms wrapped around him. His eyes may close as he sinks deeper into your frame, feeling safe. Whether he is the one protecting you or the other way around, he is content to relish this moment. He allows himself to feel the warmth, care, and love that come from a true partner—someone who has seen him at his worst and loves him all the same.
He is a man who takes every chance to whisk you away on a luxurious adventure. While he enjoys shopping during your dates, he gradually introduces you to exquisite meals at sought-after restaurants, all while remembering your favorite dishes for next time. When the moment is right, he confidently orders for you, always with a warm grin.
You | "What if I wanted to try something new today?"
Aventurine | "Then I'd buy you that as well. Who do you take me for?"
Bonus section for @aventurineswife, I'll feel guilty if it's not fluffy enough for you.
He is a man who delights in the sound of your laughter, cherishing it more than anything else in the world. When he breathes softly against your neck, it sends a thrill down your spine, and then he turns away with a casual, playful air, as if to draw you deeper into his charm. At the sight of you, he can’t help but whistle, a melody that reflects the joy you bring to his life. He has a knack for moments of whimsy, like when he playfully sets his hat atop your head, playfully shielding your eyes from the sun, while also drawing you into a world of shared laughter. In conversations, he removes his sunglasses, allowing his eyes to convey the sincerity of his attentiveness. He leans in closer, captivated by your words and eager to connect on a deeper level, showing that your thoughts and opinions matter to him immensely.
He is the kind of man who would go any distance for your attention, whether it’s a small gesture or a grand romantic act. Although he presents an air of confidence, he can be brought to his knees when you challenge him, and only by you, revealing an endearing vulnerability. He thrives on the banter, enjoying how you keep him on his toes, igniting playful debates that spark chemistry between you. He loves to tease you endlessly, his gentle jabs filled with affection, always knowing exactly how to make you smile. There’s something intoxicating about the way he inhales your scent as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, savoring the moment as if it’s a precious secret. His commitment shines through in the way he makes you wear matching rings, a playful promise that symbolizes a bond evolving toward something even deeper—a future engagement that he envisions with you. He genuinely values your opinions, listening attentively and encouraging you to express yourself freely. When it comes to your body, he sees beauty in every imperfection. He adores your "imperfections" whether they're love handles, moles, stretch marks, birthmarks, or scars, he'll end up interpreting each one as a testament to your beauty, strength and unique story.
He is unapologetically a man in love, celebrating every facet of who you are and embracing the unique qualities that make you, you.
Subject: Phainon | Love Language: Physical touch
Phainon is a man who places a high value on "physical touch;" it is his primary love language. He feels most connected to others through the warmth of hugs, the brush of a hand, and the intimacy of close proximity. For him, these simple gestures convey deep affection and strengthen his emotional bonds with those he cares about.
He is a man who wraps his arms around you gently as you drift off to sleep, providing a warm and comforting presence. With each soothing embrace, he creates a safe haven, making sure you feel protected and cherished throughout the night. His steady breathing and quiet whispers reassure you, helping to quiet any worries that might linger in your mind. In those moments, you can surrender to rest, knowing he will safeguard your dreams with love and care.
He is a man who envelops you in a flurry of affectionate kisses, his lips brushing against your skin with a gentle urgency. Each kiss feels like a promise, as he methodically covers every inch of your body, lingering on your cheeks, forehead, and the curve of your neck, pouring his heart into each moment. As he prepares for a long mission that will take him away from you, he seems to want to memorize the warmth of your skin and the rhythm of your breath, as if these tender moments might sustain you both in the days to come. His kisses are not just physical gestures; they carry a depth of emotion, reminding you that every second spent together is a cherished memory to hold onto during his absence.
He is a man who is thoughtful and devoted. He who willingly adjusts his meticulously planned schedule to accommodate your needs. Despite the demanding responsibilities that come with being the Chrysos heir, a position that often pulls him in numerous directions, he prioritizes your time together. His commitment reflects not only his affection for you but also his determination to make every moment count, regardless of the pressures he faces from his title and the expectations that come with it.
He is a man who clings to the tiniest fragments of your conversations, recalling with fondness the playful exchanges and silly remarks that once made you both laugh. Each lighthearted memory—like your infectious giggle or a shared inside joke—becomes a precious lifeline amid the harsh realities of the battlefield. As he navigates the chaos and uncertainty of combat, he often finds himself lost in daydreams of home, where your smile awaits him. The very thought of not returning to you weighs heavily on his heart, filling him with a determination to survive, so he can once again embrace the safe haven of your presence and relive those cherished moments.
He is a man who takes his role as your partner seriously. As the respected heir of Chrysos, he stands guard over you, ensuring that no one suspicious can approach without his explicit permission. Anyone who seeks to reach you must first navigate through his watchful presence, as he meticulously assesses their intentions, weighing each potential visitor with careful scrutiny before deciding whether to grant them access. His formidable demeanor can be intimidating, but beneath it lies a willingness to respect your wishes. If you desire space or want him to step back, he will readily understand and allow you the freedom you seek, always prioritizing your comfort, often brushing off his protective behavior with humor and affection.
He is a man who effortlessly attuned to the subtle social cues that reveal your emotions. He seems to instinctively know what brings you joy and what makes you uncomfortable, even if you hesitate to share your feelings. His playful nature often shines through as he tells silly jokes, aiming to elicit a smile from you or lighten the mood when he senses any unease.
He is a man who, upon realizing he has upset you or made you feel uncomfortable, instantly transforms into a flurry of apologies. His demeanor shifts noticeably, and you can see the concern etched on his face as he fumbles through his words, striving to express how truly sorry he is for his actions. It’s as if he feels a deep sense of responsibility for your feelings and is eager to make amends, often over-explaining himself in a bid to ensure you understand that it was never his intention to cause you distress. His awkwardness only adds to the sincerity of his remorse, making it clear that he values your feelings profoundly.
Subject: Strelitzia "Stella" | Love Language: Quality time
Strelitzia is a woman known for her striking presence, often opting for silence instead of speech. She values "quality time" with her partner, and her moments of quietude do not stem from a lack of thoughts or feelings. Rather, they reflect a profound depth of character and a keen observant nature.
She is a woman who is devoted, willing to fight for your cause in the face of opposition, despite her own anxieties. You can see the fierce determination etched on her face as she steps forward to protect you without a word, her body tense with anticipation, in fear. When you finally call her name, the tension in her features begins to melt away, replaced by a gentle warmth and concern.
She is a woman who swivels her head at the familiar sound of your voice, her expression lighting up as she searches the crowd for you. Her feathers, a stunning array of iridescent colors, create a soft glow that sets her apart from those around her. As she spots you, her wings unfold gracefully, flapping with an animated rhythm that mirrors the excited wag of a dog’s tail, betraying her eagerness and joy.
She is a woman who tends to withdraw due to her fear of making mistakes. Despite this distance, she can't help but keep a watchful eye on you from afar, silently ensuring your safety. Her protective instincts drive her to monitor your well-being, even if she struggles to engage directly. It’s a complex balance of wanting to be close yet feeling the need to maintain space, all rooted in her desire to shield you from potential harm.
She is a woman who, without even realizing it, orchestrates romantic outings in hidden, tranquil spots away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Whether it's a charming little picnic by a serene lake, a leisurely stroll through a secluded forest, or an unexpected sunset watching at a quiet beach, her natural inclination seems to draw her towards intimate settings that evoke a sense of magic and connection.
She is a woman who truly engages with every word you say, giving her full attention as you share your thoughts, stories, and even your frustrations. With her warm, inviting smile, she creates a safe space where you feel comfortable venting and rambling on. It’s as if she hangs on to each word, her eyes sparkling with empathy, reflecting a genuine interest in what you’re expressing. Whether you’re sharing a small triumph or a deep concern, she listens intently, her expression soft and encouraging, making you feel heard and valued in every moment you spend together.
She is a woman who embodies the saying "actions speak louder than words." Her deeds often convey her intentions and feelings more powerfully than any spoken language could. Despite the fatigue that often accompanies lengthy conversations, she perseveres in her efforts to articulate her thoughts and ideas for you. Her determination to communicate, even when drained, highlights her commitment to connecting with you, ensuring that her message is heard and understood.
She is a woman who cherishes the beauty of subtle, gentle touches that convey warmth and affection. As her relationship deepens, she finds herself growing more impulsive and adventurous, exploring this newfound intimacy with enthusiasm. Unbeknownst to her, each shared moment and intimate gesture signifies her personal growth, allowing her to shed layers of hesitation and embrace the comfort of being herself. With each passing day, she becomes increasingly attuned to her own desires, relishing in the freedom of expressing her feelings openly and confidently.
Hi! I was wondering if you could do the grand priest who is feeling love for the first time and is now obsessed with reader? Like him asking whis to bring reader more often (whis being suspicious of all this) daishinkan wanting reader to stay with him? Or romantic headcanons of him ?
The Grand Priest had seen the rise and fall of entire universes. He’d witnessed stars bloom and die, gods born and replaced, mortals achieve miracles. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could surprise him anymore.
Or so he thought.
---
Until Whis brought you to Zeno’s Palace one ordinary morning.
You weren’t anyone special in terms of divine hierarchy. A mortal guest, Whis said. Someone “pleasant to converse with.” You had helped him with something on Earth, a small act of kindness that somehow left even an Angel momentarily speechless, and as thanks, he wanted to show you the higher realms.
Daishinkan had greeted you out of courtesy, floating gracefully down the grand stairway in his immaculate robes, staff glinting with celestial light.
But when you bowed and smiled up at him, warm, kind, utterly human, something happened.
For the first time in eons, the Grand Priest’s perfect composure cracked.
A feeling bloomed in his chest, strange, bright, and impossibly loud.
He blinked.
"Fascinating." He said faintly.
From that day on, Whis started noticing... changes.
“Father,” he said one afternoon, watching Daishinkan rearrange the cosmic schedule for the third time that week. “You’ve requested I bring (Y/N) for another visit. Again.”
Daishinkan looked up, all serene grace. “Indeed.”
Whis tilted his head. “Didn’t they just leave yesterday?”
The Grand Priest adjusted his collar with an air of innocence. “I find their perspective on mortal life most... educational. It would be prudent for the Omni-Kings’ attendants to understand such matters better.”
Whis raised a brow. “Educational,” he repeated flatly. “And yet, when I arrived last time, you were teaching them how to make tea.”
When you arrived that day, Daishinkan was already waiting. The vast divine halls usually echoed with silence, but now there was a faint hum... was that music?
“Oh!” you said, noticing him standing stiffly beside an ornate tea set. “You’re early.”
“I wished to ensure the water temperature was... optimal,” he replied gravely.
It was adorable, the way he tried to look dignified while glancing at you every three seconds. His usual calm voice carried a nervous undertone. You didn’t mention it.
You simply smiled and said, “You always take such care. Thank you.”
And that was it. That smile again.
Daishinkan’s halo flickered slightly. “You are... most welcome.”
Later, you wandered the gardens, marveling at celestial flowers that glowed like galaxies. The Grand Priest walked beside you, hands folded behind his back.
“You seem fond of these gardens,” he said.
“They’re beautiful,” you answered softly. “Peaceful, too. I could stay here forever.”
He stopped walking.
Forever.
The word echoed in his mind like a song he didn’t want to end. For an eternal being who’d never known attachment, the thought of someone staying was dizzying. Dangerous. Wonderful.
“Would you... truly wish to remain here?” he asked, voice unusually quiet.
You laughed lightly. “Well, it’s just a figure of speech. I can’t really live here, can I?”
He didn’t answer right away. He was calculating, imagining, wanting.
A being of cosmic order, suddenly entertaining the idea of bending reality just a little, to keep a single mortal close.
Whis, observing from afar, sighed. “Oh, dear. He’s in deep.”
---
Over time, Daishinkan’s fascination only grew.
He began asking Whis the strangest questions.
“How do mortals... express affection?”
“Is it normal to feel one’s composure deteriorate when they smile?”
“Would you say excessive interest in their wellbeing is... unbecoming?”
Whis nearly dropped his staff. “Father, are you in love?”
Daishinkan blinked, as if the term were foreign. “Love?”
Whis folded his arms. “Yes. That thing mortals feel before doing incredibly irrational things.”
The Grand Priest thought for a long moment. “Ah,” he said finally. “How delightful.”
---
The next time you visited, Daishinkan was different.
More relaxed, almost playful. He showed you constellations he personally designed, allowed you to peek into fragments of creation, even joked about how the Omni-Kings once tried to name a galaxy after their pet Squeaky.
You laughed until your stomach hurt.
And when you turned to look at him, he wasn’t the distant, untouchable being you’d first met. He was smiling. Softly.
“(Y/N),” he said suddenly. “Would you... perhaps, stay a little longer today?”
Your heart skipped a beat. “Of course, if I’m not intruding.”
He shook his head. “On the contrary. Your presence seems to make eternity... less lonely.”
Whis, passing by, groaned audibly. “Goodness. Now he’s poetic. I’ve created a monster.”
You giggled. The Grand Priest’s cheeks tinted faintly pink.
Maybe gods could fall in love after all.
---
It became a routine.
Whis would appear on Earth with that knowing smile.
“(Y/N), Father requests your company again. Apparently, the fate of the multiverse depends on your tea-making expertise.”
A treat inspired by a discussion in the BLiKM server— I don’t usually write Veskier, but we were talking about the boys fighting for Jaskier’s love by giving him things in the hopes that they’ll be chosen, and my brain wandered to “I wonder how Vesemir is involved.”
Jaskier’s a bit older here, maybe in his mid-late thirties, so Vesemir isn’t completely out of his league. Sure, Witcher aging and stuff but, just as an added note.
—
Jaskier has always shown affection with giving gifts, a form of affection he responds best to when given to him. He would pick up many trinkets on the path for Geralt, or his family and friends back home. So when he comes to Kaer Morhen, and each of the younger wolves start offering him gifts, he’s not going to turn any of them down.
Eskel must have worked so hard to make their picnic right, it’s okay that it’s below freezing outside where he wants to sit— Geralt usually listens to Jaskier ramble about his music, a little help with composition in the form of poems is just a nice added touch, and while the odd special treatment from Lambert is strange, Jaskier holds suspicions that he’s done something that will upset him, and it's his way of making up for it.
And yet, the wolves still looked so dejected when he met with them in the evenings for meal time. Where was the spark of enthusiasm they each had while spending time together before?
It shouldn’t have taken Jaskier as long as it had to figure it out, but once he does, he’s even more lost.
“Vesemir,” he says one night, finding the old wolf in the library. He’s alone with a book, which Jaskier knows is how he prefers to spend his evenings, sipping a glass of what appears to be a lovely amber brandy. “The boys are fighting.”
“Over what?” Vesemir grumbled. Jaskier must have caught him in a good mood, if the calm body language he projected was any indication. Vesemir seemed to be having a fairly steady amount of good moods as of late. “The last scrap of deer?”
“Er, no,” Jaskier said. “I think they’re… competing for my affection.”
“Are they now,” Vesemir replied, sounding interested. He closed his book and set it aside, giving Jaskier his full attention. “Does it bother you? Come sit. Have a drink.”
Jaskier sighed and settled in the chair across from Vesemir gratefully. “It doesn’t bother me, if you mean the attention. I. Like men.”
“I suspected.”
The sudden confession makes Jaskier feel awkward, and he shifts his position, subtly clearing his throat. He’s pleased to have something to do with his hands when Vesemir passes him a glass with brandy in it, and once he’s taken a sip, he goes on. “Their affection doesn’t bother me. But the way they’re going about it seems… barbaric. I’m a noble, but I’m not some princess in need of wooing. And I can take more than one partner.”
“I pulled elven poetry from the shelf tonight, if you’d like to read,” Vesemir cut in, passing a book into Jaskier’s hands.
“Oh, yes, thank you,” Jaskier said. “See this, this quiet setting with good conversation? That’s all I need from a courting gift. Just simple respect with some nice company. Ah, and,” Jaskier pauses to sip his drink. “The brandy helps.”
“Brandy always helps,” Vesemir rumbles in agreement. “I can attempt to talk some sense into them, if you want me to.”
“Well… Just don’t make it obvious?” Jaskier requests, placing his hand on Vesemir’s arm lightly. “I don’t want to make them upset.”
Vesemir touched Jaskier’s hand to reassure him. “Gentle as a mouse, little lark.” Satisfied, Jaskier relaxed in his chair. Vesemir downed the rest of his drink and stretched, long and luxurious. “If you’d like to, perhaps…” he scratched his chin, looking mildly anxious. “I could get your mind off of them, and onto things more… pleasant?”
Jaskier recognized a proposition when he heard one and... it would be nice to think about something else. Besides that, the old wolf was fascinating, and had a certain charm to him. “Well, if you’re offering,” Jaskier said, swirling the brandy in his cup. “Wouldn’t want to wear out your old bones though.”
“Cheek,” Vesemir huffed a laugh. “These old bones have life left in them, lark. And a clever dog has to have their tricks.”
Jaskier laughed pleasantly, finishing his drink and cradling the book of elven poetry to his chest. “I’ll leave myself in your surely capable hands, then.”
“Capable,” Vesemir grumbled as he stood, “I ought to knock that sass out of you.”
Jaskier sprang to his feet and sidled neatly against his side, pleased when Vesemir’s arm curled around his waist. “I’d love to see you try.”
—
I hope you liked it! Sassy Jaskier and indulging Vesemir are a fun pair. Also, Vesemir definitely tries to keep the fighting going— he probably started it in the first place, just to distract the boys from his own, much more successful attempt to sweep Jaskier off his feet. Hence his good mood.
Y'all know how everyone wants to frick fictional characters?
Fuck that I want to gently trace radom patterns on their bodies, run my hands down their sides, gently stroke their hair and face. I just want some gentle touches is that too much to ask for
