#and the lighting and colouring is so cozy x((((

[readwritealldayallnight]

Yours, Mine, Ours

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 1.5k words

warnings/tags: fluff

“So did the other two actually say no or did you just never invite them?”

“‘Course I invited them, you asked me to, so I did.” Simon replies with ease, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him. “They’re smart lads, lovie, they knew to say no all by themselves.”

You shake your head at him in disbelief but the smile that’s been plastered across your face ever since the two of you pulled out of your flat’s parking doesn’t budge. Simon’s been driving for a few hours now, and as stressful of an experience as that is alone, you’re too excited to mind the long journey in the car.

Simon is on leave for the next two weeks, something about Price having to attend a funeral following a death in the family, and deciding that everyone on the force was due for a bit of time off. Seeing as the Captain was going to be preoccupied during his time off duty, he had asked if Simon wouldn’t mind checking in on his house for him, making sure things were alright. He’d even offered for the two of you to stay in the guest room for the duration of their leave.

Simon had explained how Price knew that the two of you were living in a small flat in London, and apparently his home was in a beautiful, forested, isolated area which meant he had essentially no neighbours, something he also knew would appeal to Simon. He offered for the two of you to stretch your legs out there at enjoy the property, including the privacy that came with it.

Wanting to be polite, you’d told Simon he should extend the invitation to Soap and Gaz, thinking they might enjoy a nice, quiet stay-cation as well at their Captain’s place away from it all. It would appear your lover had different ideas in mind however. Though you couldn’t blame him entirely, the thought of having the cozy cabin all to yourselves was certainly more appealing.

Every which way you look outside the car, your vision is filled by endless blurry trees as you zoom by, the colours of the leaves having finally changed into the warmer, more vibrant colour palette that came along with the autumn chill. If the drive up to his property was any indication of how beautiful the area really was, then you were in for quite the treat.

Entranced by the beauty of the landscape in comparison to the city lights you’ve grown so used to, you fail to notice the glances Simon keeps sneaking your way, the smallest of satisfied smiles seemingly permanently etched upon his face beneath his balaclava. He was grateful that after explaining the situation and Price’s generous offer to you, you had been too excited to ask many questions, instead getting a jump start on packing a duffel bag or two.

You were one of the most intelligent, clever, curious people he’d ever known, and it was normally quite difficult to get anything by you. He was therefore feeling rightfully proud of himself as he drove you nearer and nearer to the home you believed belonged to his Captain. In actuality, there was no funeral for Price to attend, the sergeants had certainly not been invited along on your getaway, and the home you’d be staying in wasn’t Price’s.

It was yours.

Yours, and Simon’s.

The two of you had been living in that shoebox of a flat he’d considered as ‘satisfactory’ when he was only staying there as a bachelor, for far too long. As ideal as the location might have been, there simply just wasn’t enough space for two people to live together, even considering Simon’s absences for work and that fact that when he was home, you two were essentially always on top of one another anyways.

You’d both been searching for a new flat for what felt like ages now, none of the places you visited feeling like the right fit. Simon would be weary about a certain neighborhood, you’d be concerned with the lack of any balcony or outdoor space, he’d ignore the price tag that felt your eyes bulging, and you’d shake your head as you walked through doorways that had him needing to duck down.

Little did you know, Simon had been doing his own house hunting, outside of the city. You had told Simon you were fine with staying in London, understanding that it’s convenient to have everything near by. But Simon didn’t want to give you just ‘fine’. He wanted to give you a home. The home he intends to spend the rest of his life with you in, plans on carrying you over the threshold in your wedding dress, hopes to carry sleeping newborns in their car seats through the door.

For months now, Simon has subtlety been learning more about what that home looked like to you. He’d look over your shoulder as you scrolled through Pinterest, casually asking if you could show him your boards, you know just for fun, and paid very close attention when you showed him the one named ‘future house’. On his phone, he had a list a mile long in his notes app, from secretly writing down every comment you made while watching your home reno shows. He’ll casually ask you what you think of the houses you drive by, jotting down your answers in his mind, remembering likes and dislikes.

He believes that like you, it’s the people filling the home that matter more than the structure itself, as proven by the way you continue to put up with his minuscule flat. He knows you mean it when you say you’re alright with another flat. But he has the money goddammit, he has the means to do this for you, and when the listing came up for a home in what you’d revealed as being your ideal area to settle down in one day, the house resembling the amalgamation of everything he believed you’d described as being your perfect place, he knew he had to put an offer in.

And if there ever was anything about the house you didn’t like or wanted to change, he’d gladly do it for you, no questions asked. You want to paint the bedroom? Just tell him what colour you want. You want to change the railing on the wrap around porch? He’s on his way to the hardware store already. You need him to dig a stump out of the backyard to make room for your garden? Sit back and enjoy the show lovie, he’s on it. And when the time comes to build a crib? Well he may as well baby proof the whole house while he’s at it too.

He’s pictured your reaction a thousand times over in his mind. He imagines you’ll maybe give a small gasp when he turns the corner of the long driveway and you first see the cozy, two-storey home, surrounded by never-ending foliage of red, orange, and yellow leaves, the time of year perfect for appreciating autumn in the UK, as well as the privacy the tall trees grant you. He thinks the first thing you’ll comment on will likely be the windows, an item high on your priority list he knew to adhere to.

He imagines you kicking off your boots as you step through the door, pace quickening to explore every room, spinning in the kitchen as you joke about how jealous you are of Price. He pictures you groaning with envy when you spot your dream master bathroom, insisting to Simon that since you’d been tasked with checking in on the home you may as well see every room, right? He plans to explain away the obvious sparseness of the home as the Captain not having lived here long, as being very non-materialistic after all his years in service.

He’ll continue to play along for as long as he can, part of him knowing that you know him well enough that you’re likely to catch onto his deception at some point. However he hopes that before you start rummaging through kitchen cabinets and find them empty, too empty even for an absentee captain of a homeowner, that you’ll mention something along the lines of wishing you could stay here longer. That’s when he plans to slip a key into the palm of your hand, revealing that you might be able to stay longer than you believe.

The small piece of metal that’ll unlock the rest of your lives together, sits heavy in his pocket, in contrast to the light feeling in his heart when his hand reaches across the dashboard to grab a hold of yours, knowing that the content, lovesick smile you offer him is likely stretched across his face as well, staring right back at you.

Though you’re unaware that Simon is currently driving towards your home, and not away from it, you’re gently stroking the scarred skin across his hand, feeling as though your home is sitting right next to you, holding your hand and your heart at the same time.

[vrystalius]

hiii there, i was wondering if we please get some more recruiter/salesman cutesy stuff?? you’re such a good writer (love your work) and we do NOT have enough fics of him being an enamoured wife guy on this app. thank you <3 😔

Secret Love Notes.

You keep slipping small love notes into all his pockets and suitcases to remind him that his wife loves him no matter what.

Pairing: Recruiter/Gong Yoo x wife!reader

Summary: You leave small love notes all over for him to find and he cherishes every single one of them.

Words: 0.7k, short and sweet!

Genre: fluff <33

Your husband never admits it out loud to you, but he notices how you slip little love notes into his pocket when folding up the laundry or when packing him a bento box. They have cute little encouragements and affirmations written on them along with some doodles of you two together, holding hands, kissing and whatnot.

You think you’re being sneaky by crouching a little when approaching his coat hung up by the entrance, stuffing a small folded note into his chest pocket.

Whenever he is about to go out the door, you hand him his leather suitcase and a colourful bento box you packed for him. Once you found out Gong Yo only plain loaves of bread or sometimes even nothing at all, you always insisted on packing some food for him so your poor husband can eat something home cooked every day.

Even if the box doesn’t match his aesthetics, he savours every bite and would never shy away from letting out a loud hum of content.

Gong Yoo sat comfortably on a wooden bench by the metro station, well aware of the two mobsters following him the whole day, but who cares?

He leisurely opened up the bento box. His face brightened up at the sight of another small love letter presented to him.

“Keep it up! You’re going great ♡ Your wife loves you ~ ☆ “

Accompanied by your sweet words was a chibi doodle of you doing a heart with your index finger and thumb and him as a chibi too, holding a pair of chopsticks and giving you a wink. He chuckled quietly to himself and folded the note to keep it in his pocket by his heart.

Once, after successfully recruiting a new player, Gong Yoo handed the confused and wounded man your love note with a confident smirk. That man was lucky to have escaped the games but was kind of confused on why a handsome looking salesman gave him a love letter that reminded him to “stay hydrated!! ☆ (drinking coffee doesn’t count >:( )”

He tries to leave behind as many love notes as you lovingly prepare for him, but his doodles were kind of wonky and presented you in a rather disturbing light.

Sticking to his trusty craft of origami your husband instead began leaving small paper roses for you to find as a way to leave his own love messages.

A paper rose in the fridge, in the pocket of your jacket, in your bag and on your pillow; they change colours based on the day too. Blue and red are the most frequent and popular ones though for some reason. Probably because those are the only kinds of coloured paper he owns.

After every day you leave letters behind for him, Gong Yoo always tries to come home on time to properly thank you for them. Pampering you is his favourite activity, meaning you get banned from the kitchen and forcibly made comfortable on your bed or couch with cushions and blankets to keep you warm and cozy.

To return the favour of you preparing bento for him, he’ll cook you a fine dinner that could rival that of high-end restaurants. Afterwards, he’ll make himself comfortable right next to you to plant well deserved kisses all over your face and body and let his hand travel over your body freely, tracing invisible patterns.

A man like him should not be holding a woman like you, that’s what he’s always thinking. You are way too good for him, too gentle, kind, loving, too much of everything good.

“I love you. More than letters or silly paper roses can convey. Allow me to demonstrate just how much I love my wife, hmm?”

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading!

The amount of smut and non-con about this man is INSANE, I just need to live my silly life as a wife with him where we snuggle on the couch like a boring cuddle every night and then go to sleep while he read a book and I knit like grandparents 🫶😭 Anyways, hope you enjoyed it anon!!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[whimsicaldoxy]

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 - 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

pairing: fred weasley x reader

summary: you and fred share a cozy evening at the burrow on new year’s eve, surrounded by the weasley family’s warmth and chaos.

notes: established relationship, pre-war, insinuated fem!reader, no use of y/n, fred loves pet names, fluff

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

The time was creeping closer and closer to midnight, and the evening air was filling the Burrow, the scent of smoked wood and Mrs Weasley’s famous treacle tart.

Fred was sat beside you on the patchwork sofa in the living room, his arm draped lazily over your shoulders. The pair of you were half-buried under a hand-knitted blanket, sharing a butterbeer.

“Go on, admit it,” Fred said, leaning closer as his freckled face glowed in the firelight. “You’re only dating me for my charm.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back into the sofa. “Oh, absolutely. It’s definitely not for your constant, irritating smugness or the way you ruin a perfectly good evening by stealing all the treacle tart before I can even get a bite.”

Fred gasped dramatically, his hand flying to his chest. “Darling, you wound me! You know my heart belongs only to you.”

George, his brother, who perched on the arm of the couch like a smug cat, chimed in. “That and his stomach. Mum’s cooking ranks a close second.”

Fred ignored him. “You’re not denying it, though,” he said, his grin widening as he looked back at you. “See? Can’t even argue because you love me.”

“Love might be a strong word,” you said, lifting the mug to your lips, hiding your smirk behind the rim.

“Oi!” Fred started, his finger gripping the blanket in attempt to pull it. George gave him a sharp jab in the side. “Off you go, Freddie. Don’t embarrass yourself further.”

You yank at the blanket, pulling it fully over you as Fred bickered with his twin. “Speaking of embarrassing yourself,” you said, raising an eyebrow at Fred. “Are you going to ask what my New Year’s resolution is, or are you too scared to know?”

He perked up at that, his golden-brown eyes gleaming with curiosity. “All right. Let’s hear it. Let me guess—it’s to learn to tolerate my unparalleled wit?”

You leaned closer, the corner of your mouth quirking into a grin. “It’s to beat you at Exploding Snap this year. Every. Single. Time.”

Fred blinked once. Then twice. Then he threw his head back in a loud, delighted laugh before leaning forward. “Blimey, darling. That’s ambitious, even for you.”

“You’ll see,” you replied smugly, leaning in.

“Five minutes to midnight!” Mrs Weasley’s voice boomed from the kitchen. “Everyone grab your drinks and get outside for the fireworks! And George, if you light a single one before we’re ready, so help me—”

The whole family shuffled outside, you included, the cold winter air hitting you like a sudden shock after the warmth of the house. Snow crunched underfoot, white, soft and glittering under the light of the stars. The garden was a chaos of footprints and hastily trampled paths, leading to a makeshift firework display that George was already fussing over.

A stack of colourful rockets stood ready, haphazardly tied together in what could only be described as a precarious masterpiece.

As your head tilted to stare up at the stars overhead, Fred slipped his hand into yours, his fingers warm and rough against your own. He guided you towards the edge, his arm curling around your waist, pulling you to his side as the first firework shot into the air with a loud crack—it exploded in a burst of crimson and gold, lighting up the sky.

Fred leaned down, his voice soft in your ear. “You know, it doesn’t matter what resolutions you make this year.” His tone was so different from his usual teasing—gentle and sincere. “As long as you’re with me, that’s all I’ll ever need.”

The weight of his words settled in the air around you, and for a moment, you forgot about the cold or the impending war that loomed on the horizon. You turned to him, standing on your toes to press your lips to his. He tasted like butterbeer and laughter, his lips warm against yours despite the chill in the air.

Around you, the fireworks continued to burst in brilliant waves of colour—and when you finally pulled away, Fred was grinning again, his lopsided smile even more dazzling in the firework-lit night. “Next year,” he said, his tone edging back into a familiar playfulness, “I resolve to make you laugh at least twice as much. Shouldn’t be too hard—I’m brilliant, you know.”

“You’re something, alright,” you replied, shaking your head at him fondly. The words were laced with affection, and Fred clearly heard it, because he squeezed your hand tighter.

“Happy New Year, love,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.

“Happy New Year, Fred,” you replied, leaning into his warmth as another firework burst overhead, painting the night sky in silver and blue. For this one perfect moment, the world felt safe and whole, and the future could wait until tomorrow.

[simpingforstardew]

a mini cozy harvey smut would be amazing if possible ❤️ 🤭

no pressure of course!

pairing: sdv harvey x reader

synopsis: one mini cozy harvey smut, coming right up~ just some fluffy smut, pretty much no plot ♡ i really hope you like it !!

warnings: 18+ smut (minors dni), reader is described as having a vagina, oral sex (reader receiving).

word count: 1.3k

Sparrows chirp outside as rays of the spring sunrise filter through your sheer curtains, casting a golden glow into the room. Beneath the layers of yarn blankets enveloping the bed, you luxuriate in their comforting embrace, basking in the tranquillity of the early morning.

Beside you, Harvey stirs, stretching languidly while he haphazardly pushes the duvet off his body. As he arches his back slightly, the fabric of his white t-shirt obediently follows the movement, riding up to reveal a glimpse of his belly underneath and the happy trail that adorns his midsection. Your eyes follow the trail down to his green plaid boxers, hanging loosely on his hips.

“Darling, you’re staring.” Harvey whispered through a grin, his morning voice more gruff than usual; his eyes slowly adjusting to the light.

You smile in spite of the blush that warms your cheeks, “I’m allowed, aren’t I?”

The doctor rubs his heavy eyes as a soft chuckle escapes his lips, “Shh, come here, you’re-,” A yawn interrupts him, “You’re so far away.”

“I’m only on my side of the bed, Harv,” You giggle, shuffling towards your boyfriend, “‘s not that far.”

He wraps you protectively in his arms, one hand lightly massaging your back while the other finds itself on the back of your head, pushing you comfortably into the warmth of his chest. Harvey’s chypre scent was just as comforting as the embrace. Your calloused fingers trace shapes into the skin under his t-shirt, trying to remember where each mole and freckle is.

“I love you, y’know?” You whisper, looking up at him as another smile tugs on his lips.

“Of course, I just hope you know that I love you more.” He kisses your forehead. You still weren’t used to the tickle of his moustache.

You reach a hand up to caress his soft cheeks, while his viridescent eyes scan your face— as if he was memorising every feature. Harvey’s strong arms pull you impossibly closer as you stare at his mouth, your thumb delicately brushes along his lower lip.

Before you could tease him for the flush that was quickly colouring his cheeks, he leans down to kiss you.

His lips, soft and yielding, already carried the faint taste of coffee; it was intoxicating. A soft whine escaped his lips as you threaded your fingers through his dark hair, still tousled from sleep. Touching him feels like heaven; tasting him is like indulging in a forbidden fruit. It was the kind of adoration that devotees created worship for.

You hadn’t realized how desperately you needed this until this moment, a moment in which you two are the only people awake in the valley. Every sensation seems to converge into a single, overwhelming need for closeness.

Harvey’s large hand moves down to your thigh as it rests on his hip, tugging you desperately towards him, as he deepens the kiss. This kiss is nothing like your first just weeks ago: a gentle, yet nervous confession. This is carnally unrestrained; honest.

“Please I-,” the whispered plea slips out of your kiss bitten lips.

“Fucking insatiable,” Harvey chuckles softly, his lips still brushing against your own, before rolling to cage you between his arms. With your back now pressed against the plush sheets, Harvey took the opportunity to tug off his wrinkled t-shirt, fumbling with the hem before discarding it on the floor. With anybody else, at any other time in his life, perhaps he would have been too insecure to do so.

Harvey’s large frame hovers over you, his hand gentle on your neck as he leans in close. “Tell me what you want,” he whispers; you feel the warmth of his breath caress your ear, “I need to hear you say it.”

“Fuck, you’re killing me here— Please, I…” you beg, voice reduced to a hoarse whisper, “I need you, Harvey.”

He kisses down your neck, nipping just to see you squirm, as his hand caresses your chest beneath your t-shirt.

“You’re so pretty when you’re desperate,” he continues to praise you between kisses, marking your most sensitive areas as he makes his way down your body, “So pretty.”

As he shuffles down the bed, he lifts up your t-shirt to kiss your belly— blowing the occasionally raspberry in response to your embarrassed whines. You look down to see him comfortably snug underneath the duvet, kissing your inner thighs with delicate reverence before meeting your gaze.

“Hi.” he smiles, chuckling as he looks at you longingly.

“Hi.” you respond breathlessly, stroking the brunette waves of his hair. You involuntarily tighten your grasp when you feel the warmth of his breathe tease your clothed pussy; a sinful moan escapes his lips in response.

“Careful, darling,” Harvey exhales, “You don’t want me to come that fast, do you?”

Your breath hitches as you hopelessly buck your hips, feeling both of Harvey’s large hands reach to grab your ass “N-no, fuck— sorry.”

Your wetness soaks through your underwear as you feel Harvey’s deft fingers rub slow circles on your clit; his other hand moving to diligently massage your tense hips. Despite the doctor’s dominant act, you could feel him grinding against the soft mattress as he pants pathetically. He glances up with puppy dog eyes, through the hair that had cascaded down his face, to watch for your reactions.

“Do you-,” you whimper, interrupted by the increasing speed of your boyfriend’s fingers, “Do you want to fuck me, puppy?”

“More than I’ve wanted anything,” Harvey sits up, tugging off your underwear, “but right now, I need to taste you.”

Harvey is quick to begin lapping up your juices, occasionally moaning to send vibrations through your sensitive cunt. He is committed to satisfying every inch of your sex so much it almost overstimulates you. His hot mouth, his coarse moustache, his wet tongue, all determined to make you climax.

“So gorgeous for me like this, darling,” Harvey gasps; all you can do— all you want to do— is whimper and moan as you weakly grind against his face.

Slowly, he pushes two fingers inside you— the mess of your anticipation from Harvey’s unrelenting praise making the perfect lube. The delectable stretch just barely satisfies the heavy ache in your pussy; so you roll your hips in time with his digits as they slide in and out, hitting just the right spot. With his fingers fucking you, he continued to eat you out like a man starved. You spread your legs further when he pulls you closer to his face, resting one thigh on Harvey’s shoulder.

“Mmm, p-please.. Fuck—” your moans were becoming unintelligible, your boyfriend’s ministrations unravelling you completely, “Please, Harv’— I’m so close.”

Snapping your hips back and forth, Harvey’s nose nudges against your clit as he groans beneath you; you quickly came undone. As you stumble blissfully towards your release, your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth falls slack; wanton cries fill the room. You feel your legs continue to shake when Harvey pulls his fingers out, the absence of his touch making you whine.

“So good for me, I got you. There you go—,” Harvey soothes; as you open your eyes again, you’re greeted by the sight of him sucking your juices from his fingers. His unwavering eye-contact leaving you breathless, “All for me.”

He makes his way back up the bed, bringing you back into his arms as you catch your breath; after a few moments, your light-headedness fades as you ground yourself in his embrace.

“Wait, Harv—” you mumble, “What time is it? You don’t have to be in the clinic today do you?”

“Shh, don’t you worry, Maru has everything sorted out for today,” he traces shapes in your back, almost lulling you back to sleep, “How about I get you some water while you go to the toilet, then I can make us some breakfast? Is that ok, honey?”

You nuzzle into his chest, nodding emphatically to his morning plans, “Sounds perfect.”

[fallenprophets]

Home.

Jinx x reader

Summary: set between Act 1 and 2 of Arcane season 2. You find a moment of calm at home with Jinx, Isha, and a stray dog you've found along the way.

Warnings: spoilers for Arcane season 1, tooth-rotting fluff (I hope) not proofread

No use of Y/N, no pronouns used for reader, no gender specific terms etc...

A/N: WHOO first piece of writing by Lev on this blog yippee!! I sincerely hope you all enjoy this lolsies. Please interact! I'm taking requests teehee

You don’t remember the last time you felt this at peace. 

It is like a buzzing, filling your chest, lifting you practically off your feet as you make my way home. 

This feeling is manufactured- it is not coming from the outside. It comes from deep inside your chest, thrumming happily, snuggled between your lungs, right below your heart. There are reasons for this warmth, this light- well, one reason. Her name is Jinx. 

When you say you’re going home, all you really think of is her. Yes, her lair is home- it is warm, and cozy, and as safe as a hot air balloon suspended above what seems to be an infinite void can be- but without her, it would be nothing. 

She is the light that fills your chest, with her bright smile and ridiculously long blue hair and perfect pink eyes. She is the weight on your lungs, making it hard to breathe when you think of her. She’s all the cheesy, corny shit the romance authors you hated so as a child wrote. Only instead of being a character, only words on a worn out page, she’s real, and she’s only a two minute walk away from where you are now. 

You have a satchel slung over your shoulder, the Dog (you don’t know when it became your dog; it just appeared by your side one day, and hasn’t left since) trotting along beside you. Its fur is matted. You reach down and scratch between its ears as you near the Last Drop, smiling to yourself. Never had you thought you would be living this life- on your way home, supplies for Jinx in your bag, the Dog padding alongside you- it is so domestic, so soft, so clean (despite the grime of the Fissures, the thickness of the air, the moaning of the people crowding the sides of the streets). This life is so unlike anything you remember your parents having. 

You take the quick route into Jinx’s lair, the dog following happily, its pink tongue lolling. You should name it, you think as you step onto one of the propellers. 

After Silco had died, you had expected the place to fall into disrepair; you had thought the lights would stop twinkling, and the tinny music would stop playing, and the workstations would gather dust until finally the propellers snapped and fell, taking Jinx with them. And yes, that had started to happen. But then, Jinx had met the kid. Isha, you had called her. All of you, huddled around an old, matted baby names book one of you had found at a scrapyard, pointing out names to each other. Isha, the kid had pointed at, a huge, toothy grin splitting her round face. One who protects. You had closed the book then, knowing that it was perfect. Jinx had smiled at you over the newly baptized Isha’s head, and you had smiled right back, squeezing her hand in yours. You had tossed the book down, into the void below. 

Now, your home was transformed. Jinx’s creepy dolls were gone, replaced with different colourful toys and gadgets picked out or made by Isha. The walls were covered in crayon drawings of all kinds of things- dragons, flowers, the three of you in fields of green and blue and pink and orange. There was a tent set up in the corner, full of Isha’s belongings. It was where you all slept, huddled together like a litter of cats. You love the place. 

At first, you think they’re both out. You call out, and when no answer comes, you venture further in, dropping your bag by Jinx’s workbench. The Dog sniffs around, its tail wagging as it comes closer and closer to an odd lump covered in blankets. You grin to yourself, putting a hand on your hip, tapping your chin with the knuckles of the other. “Hmm,” you muse to yourself, purposefully ignoring the giggle coming from the blankets, “wowie, I wonder where Isha and Jinx could possibly be.” You go in the opposite direction, checking under the workbench, scratching your head. The Dog watches, its eyes saying Can’t you see them? They’re right here! You wink at it, and it sits, tilting its head. “They must have gone out,” you declare loudly as the giggles intensify. “Guess I have this whole place to myself! Finally, I am rid of those stinky-“ 

As you are talking, you approach the mess of blankets. Before you are able to finish that last sentence, a small orange and blue bundle barrels into your legs, almost knocking you flat on your back. Isha launches herself into your arms, grinning her toothy grin as you spin her around. 

“Oh my goodness!” You cry, “where were you hiding? You really are a master sleuth!” Jinx, still have tangled in the blankets, barks a laugh. You hug Isha to your chest and raise an eyebrow at her, mouthing you couldn’t hide anywhere better? She flips you off, but she is smiling. 

She stands and joins you and Isha, her hand finding the small of your back, the other going to Isha’s shoulder. 

“I have a surprise,” you whisper to the child, “but don’t tell Jinx, mmkay?” 

Jinx tilts her head, still smiling. Isha nods solemnly. 

“I found waffles,” you breathe, looking at Jinx out of the corner of your eye. Isha gasps and puts her hands over her mouth. Through trial and error, you and Jinx had discovered that the little one seemed to live for waffles. You now went out of your way, as the only one with your face not plastered all over the place, to find the sweet treat. 

“Gee, I wonder what the surprise could be,” Jinx says, playing along. She follows as you carry Isha to your bag. You set the kid down, the Dog nuzzling into her hand. You rifle around for a moment, and finally pull out the waffles. Jinx lets out a loud gasp, and Isha turns to her, delighted, pleased with herself that she was able to keep this secret. 

“Waffles?” Jinx cries. Isha claps her hands together, startling the Dog. 

You all sit together in the tent, sharing the waffles off the same plate. Isha (who thinks she’s being slick) keeps sneaking pieces of her food to the Dog, who delightedly licks it off her hand. She giggles every time, earning an affectionate look from you and Jinx. 

Once you have finished the waffles, you push the plate away and lie down. Soon, Isha curls into a ball in the space between your knees and your stomach, settling her head on your legs. Jinx dims the lights, then joins you; the two of you become a protective cocoon around the now snoring Isha. The Dog squishes itself in between you and Isha, resting its head on the kid’s side and looking up at you adoringly. You brush a strand of hair from Jinx’s face and smile. She smiles right back. She’s been smiling so much recently. 

“This is perfect,” you whisper to her once you’re sure Isha is fast asleep. 

She smiles, but doesn’t answer. One of her hands rests on your waist, and her fingers trace soothing patterns there. 

“I thought,” she begins, then stops, frowning. Her other fingers tighten around your hand. “I thought that, with Silco gone, there was nothing left for me.” Her words hurt you; it stings somewhere deep in your stomach to hear that she is in any kind of pain. 

“But then… I met the kid,” she continues. “And then I found you.” 

You feel an overwhelming wave of affection for the girl lying in front of you then. A girl you had once known what feels like a very long time ago; a girl who had once had blue eyes and the same wide, toothy smile as Isha. A girl who had been part of your distant past, who was now back in your life. She was right; despite having known each other your whole lives, you have really only just found each other. 

“And- and I realised that maybe, maybe Silco wasn’t all I needed. Maybe…” she trails off, but she has said enough. You shuffle forwards (careful not to disturb Isha or the dog) so that your forehead is only centimetres from hers. She meets you halfway, pressing her forehead to yours; your noses brush, and you smile, reaching up to cup her face. 

“I love you, Blue,” you whisper. A name, who she has always been to you. Blue. Blue like the sky, like the sea. Blue like the warm, the fluttering bird nestled in your chest. 

For a moment, you think she is going to cry. But she only pulls you closer, and whispers the same words back to you, your name uttered like a prayer. 

You close your eyes and smile, and her breathing slows. 

As you fall asleep, you think: 

You have never felt this at peace before. 

[soulofapatrick]

“Patience, love.” - Azriel x female reader

Summary: Azriel gets home from being away and has even more work to do before he can tend to you

Words: 3.2K

Warnings: Smut; cockwarming

Notes: Two Azriel stories in one day?!

Y/N's POV

I sit with Nesta and Cassian in the cozy living room of the House of Wind, the warm glow of the fire crackling in the hearth casting flickering shadows along the walls. Nesta’s sharp wit and Cassian’s booming laughter fill the space, their playful banter about training sessions and Illyrian wingspans enough to keep me entertained—for the most part.

But even as I smile along with them, my mind is elsewhere, thoughts drifting to him. To Azriel. It’s been days since I’ve seen him, his absence leaving a hollow ache in my chest. I’m just about to add something to Nesta’s argument when I feel it—soft at first, like the brush of a feather. Then, stronger. A pull. A familiar, soul-deep tug on the bond that links me to him, wrapping itself around my heart with a tender, insistent pulse. Azriel.

I sit up a little straighter, the change in me instantaneous. It's like a jolt of life surges through me, a spark that had been dulled in his absence now reigniting with full force. My heart skips a beat, joy swelling so suddenly inside me that I can’t stop the bright, eager smile that stretches across my face. The world seems to sharpen, colours brighter, sounds clearer, as if everything in the room has come into focus with that single, unmistakable tug. He’s home.

Cassian’s eyes catch mine, the knowing look in them unmistakable. He’s seen this before. I don’t even need to say it—he knows. He leans back, crossing his arms with a teasing smirk as if to say, Go on, then. Nesta pauses mid-sentence, her expression confused as she glances between us.

I can barely sit still, the urge to move, to find him, overwhelming. “I—” I stammer, already rising from my seat. “I need to go.” My voice is breathless, and I can feel the flush rising in my cheeks, the warmth of excitement spreading through my entire body.

Nesta arches a brow, clearly about to ask why I’m leaving so suddenly, but I’m too far gone, my mind entirely focused on the one person I need to see. “Sorry!” I call over my shoulder as I dash from the room, leaving the half-finished conversation behind. I can feel Nesta’s confusion lingering in the air, but it doesn’t matter—not when he’s home.

My feet pound against the floor as I rush down the hall, my heart thudding in sync with the bond’s steady pull. The corridors of the House blur around me as I pick up my pace, the excitement bubbling inside me, spilling over. Every step brings me closer to him—closer to Azriel.

I can almost feel his presence now, that comforting, grounding sensation that only he brings, and a desperate need blooms in my chest. I need to see him, feel his arms around me, the cool touch of his shadows curling around my skin. I can barely breathe with how badly I want him right now.

Rounding the corner, I nearly skid to a halt in front of our door, my breath coming fast, my fingers trembling as they close around the handle. Azriel’s home—the thought pounds through my veins, dizzying me with anticipation, and I push the door open, stepping into the room where I know he waits.

As I step into the room, my breath catches in my throat at the sight of him. Azriel is seated at his desk, the soft glow of the lamp casting warm light over the planes of his face, making him look almost ethereal. He looks up as the door clicks shut behind me, and the second our eyes meet, a soft smile tugs at his lips—those rare dimples appearing, the ones that never fail to send my heart racing.

His hazel eyes, a swirl of green and gold, brighten at the sight of me, that unreadable mask he so often wears slipping just enough for me to see the affection there. His dark hair, tousled from the day, falls slightly into his face, and he brushes it aside with a scarred hand. The elegant planes of his face are impossibly beautiful, his golden-brown skin glowing in the dim light. Broad shoulders and powerful muscles, shaped by centuries of Illyrian training, are framed by his massive wings, their black membranes stretching behind him. He looks like a warrior, a king—yet, in this moment, he is simply mine.

Azriel shuffles his chair back without a word, the soft sound of the wood scraping the floor echoing in the silence between us. His eyes never leave mine, and with that same gentle smile, he opens his arms slightly in invitation. It’s all I need. I cross the room in a few quick strides, my body practically vibrating with the need to feel him, to touch him after so many days apart.

Without hesitation, I straddle his lap, feeling his strong thighs beneath me, his scarred hands immediately gripping my hips to steady me as I settle against him. I giggle, breathless, and his smile widens, a soft laugh escaping his lips—a sound I rarely hear, but one that fills me with warmth. His fingers dig into my hips just enough to keep me from falling off the chair, and I feel the tension drain from my body the moment his warmth seeps into me.

"Careful," he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, his breath fanning across my skin. And then, he pulls me closer, drawing me into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around me as if he never wants to let go. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, breathing me in, his nose brushing against my skin as his wings curl slightly inward, forming a protective cocoon around us.

I melt into him, my hands sliding up his strong shoulders and into his hair as I cling to him. For a moment, we stay like this—wrapped in each other, feeling the bond between us hum with contentment, with home. But then, his lips move against my neck, the faintest brush of his mouth against my skin, and my breath hitches. Slowly, he lifts his head, his eyes darkened with something deeper now, and before I can say a word, he kisses me.

The moment our lips meet, everything else fades away. His kiss is soft at first, gentle, like he’s savouring the taste of me after being apart for so long. I can taste the faint hint of mint on his lips, feel the warmth of him seeping into me, the smooth press of his lips against mine as they move slowly, sweetly. His hands slide up my back, pulling me impossibly closer, and I can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath my chest, grounding me in this moment.

But the kiss shifts. Slowly at first, then with a growing urgency. The bond between us tightens, a sharp pull, and suddenly, I’m not just kissing him—I’m devouring him. I grip his hair tighter, my nails scraping lightly against his scalp as I deepen the kiss, feeling his responding growl vibrate through my chest. Azriel’s hands tighten their grip on my hips, pulling me flush against him, and I feel the heat of him, the strength of his body beneath me. My heart races, and all the want and need I’ve been holding back during his absence surges forward in a tidal wave of longing.

His tongue brushes against mine, and the taste of him—so familiar, so intoxicating—makes me dizzy. The kiss becomes desperate, consuming, the bond between us sparking like wildfire, reigniting that primal pull I feel whenever I’m near him. I need him now. The warmth in my chest turns into a burning ache, and my hands slip down to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as I press myself even closer, as though I can’t get enough of him.

He growls softly against my lips, his wings flaring behind him as the bond crackles between us, both of us teetering on the edge of control. Azriel breaks the kiss just long enough to meet my gaze, his hazel eyes now dark with desire. His voice is rough when he speaks, barely a whisper. “I missed you.”

Before I can respond, his lips crash into mine again, harder this time, the kiss filled with all the pent-up need, the longing, the hunger. The bond pulses, wild and insistent, and I can feel the desire coil low in my belly, a deep, aching need that only he can fill. I need him now—no, I need him now, the mating bond pulling us both into a frenzy of want, of overwhelming, all-consuming need.

Without a word, one hand finds my panties, fingers finding their way to my already wet core, a proud smirk gracing that beautiful face, “All for me?” 

I’m nodding almost so hard I’m sure I’ll get whiplash, an ache deep inside of me needing Azriel now.  My hips jerk down, trying to get him to sleep one into my aching heat but he clicks his tongue softly, his scarred fingers exploring, tracing a line from my extract up to my clit, spreading my ever-growing arousal. He moves a hand up to my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze when he draws a tight circle over my clit, watching the way my breath catching in my throat and my brain seems to turn to mush. 

Azriel. Need. Need now. Azriel. Az-

Before I can finish the thought, his voice cuts through the haze of desire clouding my mind, sharp and teasing, yet so achingly calm. “Now now, I still have work to do before we can play.”

His words snap like a whip, jerking me out of the intoxicating fog of want, and I freeze, the fire in my veins suddenly roaring hotter, fiercer. I pull back just enough to meet his eyes, my breath ragged and shallow, my pulse thundering in my ears. He’s smiling—smirking—as if he doesn’t feel the same sharp, clawing need that’s twisting inside me.

I can feel the heat pooling low in my belly, my skin buzzing, a desperate ache between my thighs that makes it hard to think, hard to breathe. The bond pulses violently with my desire, a tidal wave of need that crashes into him, and I know—I know—he can feel it. The raw hunger, the gnawing need to be closer, to tear down the walls of restraint he’s so carefully built between us. But his words hang in the air, like cold water dousing the inferno inside me.

I bare my teeth, frustration bubbling over as a low growl rumbles from my chest. Anguish grips me, a burning, agonising frustration that has me trembling in his lap. I can’t stand it—the thought of being denied him, even for a moment longer. My hands tighten their grip on his shoulders, fingers digging into the hard muscle beneath his shirt as I press myself closer, my body desperate for the touch of his skin, the feel of him inside me.

“Azriel,” I hiss, the plea tangled with raw need, my voice almost unrecognisable. “I can’t—” I can’t finish the sentence, too overwhelmed, too consumed by the sharp, aching pull of the bond, the primal need coursing through me like a live wire. My entire body is screaming for him, and the restraint he’s showing, the patience in his voice, only fans the flames of my frustration.

But he just chuckles. That low, rumbling sound of amusement spilling from his lips, as if my need, my desperation, is nothing more than a game to him. It ignites something in me, the flicker of anger sharpening my need into something almost unbearable. His eyes—those beautiful hazel eyes, darkened with lust—gleam with equal want, with the same hunger I feel. But beneath it, there’s control. A maddening, ironclad self-restraint that makes his jaw click as he holds back

His hands go back to my hips, resting firmly on them, his grip tightening just enough that I can feel the tension coiling in his muscles, the barely-contained desire pulsing through him. His wings twitch behind him, his body taut with the effort to hold himself in check. I can see it—the way his eyes darken with every breath I take, the way his gaze drops to my lips, lingering there as though he’s seconds away from devouring me.

He wants this. He wants me, just as badly, just as fiercely—but he’s holding back, holding himself at bay with that damnable, infuriating control. His teeth grind together, his jaw clenching as he restrains the need that’s clearly mirrored in my own. The way his hands tighten on my hips, the way his wings flex—it all tells me he’s fighting against the same pull, the same hunger.

“Azriel,” I growl again, my voice rough and edged with desperation. I lean in, pressing my lips to his ear, my breath hot against his skin. “You’re killing me.”

He chuckles again, but it’s strained now, his control wavering for just a heartbeat. His voice is rougher this time, the tension evident as he murmurs, “Patience, love.”

But patience is the last thing I have. I can feel the bond vibrating between us, the wild, untamed magic of it pulling us both into the whirlwind of lust and need. It’s a cruel thing, to feel the burning want in every fibre of my being and know he’s holding himself back from giving in, from letting go. And it’s driving me mad.

His eyes flicker with something dark and dangerous as he watches the frustration in my gaze, the primal need that has me trembling in his lap. His jaw ticks again, that battle for control raging within him, and I can see it—the moment he almost breaks, the moment the restraint frays and the want claws its way to the surface.

And gods, I want him to break. 

“Stand up.” He suddenly demands and I find myself doing so, watching, practically drooling as he sheds some of his armour. My thighs clenching together as his hands move to his belt, unbuckling it, fingers pulling the zipper of his pants down and I’m swallowing hard at the tent. 

How big he is never fails to make me worry that he won’t fit me despite us being made for each other. Azriel’s glancing up at me as he frees himself, stroking a hand up and down his weeping length and I can’t decide what I want in me more. Those deft fingers or his throbbing dick, both making me almost fall to my knees in front of him from wanting something. Anything.

“Sit.” Azriel’s voice is choked and rough as he reaches forwards and grips my hips, helping me straddle his waist again. My thighs feel shaky already as he lines himself up for me to sink down easily, our bodies molding to each others like they had never been apart before.I go to raise myself up, desperate to move, to ease the overwhelming tension pulsing through my body, but Azriel’s low, deep growl reverberates through his chest, rumbling against my skin. His scarred hands tighten their grip on my hips, stilling me with a firm, unyielding hold. “Patience, love,” he murmurs, his voice a silken warning, his restraint absolute.

“Az—” I begin, but his name falls short, caught in my throat, the word turning into a helpless sigh.

Oh, angel. This man is going to be the fucking death of me.

I know I make a muffled sound of anguish, my lips pressing against his shoulder, my body trembling from how close I am to what I so desperately need. But he won’t let me move. He won’t. Despite being buried inside me, to the absolute hilt, filling me fuller than I ever thought possible, he keeps me still, locked in place, holding back the release we both crave.

My nails dig into the hard muscles of his shoulders, almost painfully, as I fight the primal instinct to rock my hips, to seek that friction I so desperately need. But Azriel—damn him—keeps me pinned against him, his grip firm, unyielding. Every muscle in my body is taut with the tension of it, the ache between my legs a sharp, throbbing pulse that borders on torture.

I burrow my face into the crook of his neck, desperate for some form of release, and without thinking, I bite down on the soft skin there—almost too hard. His breath hitches, sharp and sudden, his body going rigid beneath me for a moment, and I feel a dark sense of satisfaction knowing I got a reaction out of him. His jaw clenches, the want flaring hot in his eyes, but he doesn’t give in.

Instead, his hand leaves my hip, moving slowly, deliberately, to card through my hair. His fingers tangle in the strands, a soft, rhythmic motion that sends an unexpected wave of calm washing over me. I hadn’t realised how badly I needed that gentle touch in the midst of all this aching, burning need. His thumb brushes the side of my temple, and despite the insistent pulse between my thighs, the raw desire clawing at my every nerve, I feel a strange, soothing warmth spread through me.

His hand strokes through my hair again, and again. It’s maddening, the way he can have me teetering on the edge of ecstasy and still manage to lull me into this state of almost… blissful surrender. As if his touch alone could make me forget the ache in my body, the way he’s buried so deep inside me yet keeping me utterly still, trapped in this agonising limbo.

I bite him again, though softer this time, trying to fight the pull of drowsiness creeping up on me. But Azriel’s hand continues to pet my hair, his voice a low murmur of comfort I can barely make out over the sound of my own ragged breaths. Somehow, impossibly, the gentle motion is lulling me, sending me into a state of slumber despite the sharp ache between my legs, the unfulfilled need twisting deep inside me.

I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to drift away. But I can feel my body surrendering, my eyelids growing heavier with every soft stroke of his fingers. It’s as if my exhaustion is finally catching up with me, and though the desperation still burns hot in my veins, I know he won’t leave me like this for long.

Azriel’s hand stills for a moment, his lips brushing against the crown of my head as he whispers, “Rest, love. I’ll wake you when I’m ready.”

When he’s ready. The thought should frustrate me, should make me want to push away, to demand more—but there’s something in the way he says it. A promise. And I know—I know—that when he’s ready, he’ll give me everything. Everything we both need.

So I let myself drift, trusting him to wake me when the time comes, trusting him to fulfill that promise. The ache is still there, pulsing between my thighs, but for now… for now, I let the exhaustion win.

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

[guliexe]

[TOKYO] 18+ mdni

2Hollis x Reader

warnings/tags: friends to lovers, virgin!reader, loving sex, very corny, soft dom!hollis, fluff, confessing, dry humping, oral (f receiving), use of y/n, love bombing, p in v, creampie, choking

♡ you go to tokyo to film a vlog for your friends, feelings are confessed, things heat up.

w/c: 5,082 (i did read it but tell me if there's any mistakes)

You’ve been best friends with Nate and Hollis for years, ever since you were teenagers. You’ve shared countless memories and done almost everything together but you were too shy to be on camera with them.

So when they invited you to join them on a trip to Japan with two other guys you had only recently met, you hesitated, but eventually agreed. Now, here you are in Tokyo, surrounded by four men who seem to have made it their mission to annoy you all day long. Originally, they planned to hire someone to film their YouTube vlog, but since you didn’t know what else to do as the only girl in the group, you offered to take on the task yourself.

“Yo Y/N, grab the camera!” Nate calls out as you all prepare to leave the hotel room and head to the car. You take the camera in your hands and start filming.

“Welcome to the ‘boylife in Tokyo’ vlog yall” Nate exclaims.

“Well, boylife…plus a random girl, actually” Hollis adds teasingly, causing you to laugh, your voice picking up on the camera. You make your way to the car and sit in front of the others so they’re all in frame. Minutes pass as they talk about random stuff, laughing and joking with each other.

"That wasn’t a freestyle, that was SHEDIM,"

Hollis says, glancing down at his phone.

"But y’all ain’t OGs, so..." he adds with a

grin.

After arguing over who’s an OG and who’s not, you can’t help but laugh at their ridiculousness.

“Y/N, you can talk too, you know. Don’t be shy” Hollis says, glancing at you.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, your voice picking up on the camera as you chuckle.

“You’re a part of this too, you can’t hide,” Nate adds jokingly.

After stepping out of the car, you and the group began wandering through the vibrant streets of Tokyo. Neon lights illuminated every corner, casting colourful glows in all directions, while hundreds of people filled the bustling streets and crowded storefronts.

You kept filming them for a couple of hours as they goofed around in different stores, tried strange street food, and shopped for clothes. But as the night went on, everyone started to feel a bit worn out and agreed it was time to head back to the hotel and chill.

Just as you were about to put the camera away in your bag, Hollis stopped you, swallowing hard.

"Hey, we don't have to go back if you don't want to. We can keep filming—I’m not tired" he said softly.

"Oh, sure, no problem. I’m not tired either" you replied, turning the camera back on to capture him.

He grinned at the lens, his energy still surprisingly high. "So, everyone else left—I know, sad—but it's alright because I'm here with the beautiful Y/N, and we're gonna stay out some more." You felt a warm blush rise to your cheeks from the compliment but quickly pushed the thought aside.

After wandering around for a while and filming Hollis ramble about minecraft, the two of you started to feel a bit hungry. You spotted a small, cozy restaurant across the street and decided to take a break there. Setting the camera on the table so it only captured Hollis, you both dug into your meals.

"Y/N still won’t show her face, but I’m gonna film her when she doesn’t know it—just watch me guys" he joked, glancing mischievously at the camera before looking over at you.

"Shut uuup" you mumbled through a mouthful of noodles, and reach your finger to the camera to stop it from recording further, which only made Hollis giggle at the sight.

Every time you were with him, it felt peaceful and fun—like nothing else mattered. This almost felt like an unofficial date, just the two of you chatting about random things, enjoying delicious food, and sneaking glances at each other every now and then. You couldn’t help but wish it could always be like this between you—and that he thought about it the same way too.

After leaving the restaurant, you stopped by a big arcade before heading back to the hotel. The room was packed with colourful machines, and loud Japanese music blared from the speakers. You wandered around, trying out different games and messing with the gacha machines, laughing at Hollis’s excitement over each prize.

Eventually, Hollis spotted a giant claw machine filled with adorable plushies and immediately zeroed in on a big bunny inside. You held up the camera, capturing his determined expression as he struggled over and over to get it out.

"I'm trynna win this for Y/N, but it's really tricky" he grumbled, glancing at you with a sheepish smile before focusing back on the machine. Hollis let out an exaggerated groan, throwing his head back dramatically.

“This shit’s rigged, I swear” he complained.

“You’re gonna spend all your money on that bunny” you teased, still filming him. He shot you a playful glare.

“It’s for you, so it’s worth it.” he turns his gaze back to the machine.

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you tried to ignore the way your cheeks warmed up. Eventually, after a few more failed attempts, Hollis finally managed to scoop the bunny up, and this time it didn’t slip.

“Let’s fucking go!” he exclaimed, and picked the bunny up from the prize chute.

“For you, pretty” he teased and turned over to you, placing the bunny in your hands. You couldn’t help but giggle, hugging the soft plush to your chest, and eventually turning the camera off for the night. “You’re ridiculous” you mumbled, but the smile on your face was impossible to hide.

Just before heading back to the room with the others, you and Hollis stepped outside the hotel and wandered to a nearby bridge. The city stretched out before you, vibrant neon lights glowing from every corner of Tokyo’s center, as the moonlight reflected off the water. You couldn’t help but take a deep breath, soaking in the beauty of it all while hugging the plush bunny close to your chest.

But the view that mattered most to Hollis wasn’t the city—it was you. Remembering what he’d said earlier that night, he pulled out his phone and started filming you. Your hair was swept back by the night breeze, your eyes fixed on the mesmerizing sight ahead.

You turned to him, a slight blush dusting your cheeks. “Hollis! What the fuck!”

He just laughed, lowering his phone a bit but keeping his gaze on you. “Couldn’t help it. You just looked... really pretty right now” he admitted, his voice softer than usual.

"Isn’t she pretty, y’all?" Hollis said, grinning at his phone before finally stopping the recording and slipping it into his pocket.

You shot him a glare, your tone serious, but your cheeks red.

"Don’t put that in the vlog, Hollis."

He just smirked, clearly enjoying teasing you.

"Oh, I definitely will."

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. "Whatever. Let’s just go back."

You headed back to the hotel room with the others, keeping the camera rolling as they danced and lip-synced to random songs, jokingly fought eachother, and chatted excitedly about tomorrow’s show.

Eventually, everyone started winding down, collapsing onto the bed and couch. Laughter still echoed through the room as Nate and the others scrolled through the footage you’d taken. Hollis flopped down on the bed next to you, his shoulder brushing yours as he glanced at the screen.

“You got some good stuff today” he murmured, a lazy smile spreading across his face.

You chuckled. “Yeah, it was very fun filming you guys”

He nodded, his eyes still fixed on the screen, but you could tell his mind was somewhere else. After a moment, he looked over at you, a hint of seriousness softening his usual playful demeanor.

“Thanks for sticking around earlier. I know you could’ve just headed back with everyone else.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I didn’t mind. Besides, it was fun…just the two of us hanging out together.” you said softly, your cheeks blushing. Hollis's smile grew a little wider, and he glanced down, almost like he was trying to hide his own blush.

“Yeah... it was,” he replied, his voice quieter than usual.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the noise of the others fading into the background. You could feel your heart pounding a little harder than before, caught off guard by how close he was and the way his knee still brushing against yours.

Just then, someone shouted Hollis’s name, snapping both of you out of the moment. He cleared his throat and pushed himself up with a grin, throwing you one last glance before joining the others. As he walked away, you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way you did—like there was something unspoken between you two the past few months, especially tonight.

It was around 1 am, and you stood out on the balcony, your hands resting on the glass railing as you lost yourself in the peaceful atmosphere of the city. The others were in the room, chatting and working on a new song, their voices muffled. Suddenly, the sound of the sliding door caught your attention, and you turned to see Hollis stepping out onto the balcony.

“Are you alright?” he asked, giving you a soft smile as he joined you by the railing.

“Just needed some air. It’s nice out here” you returned his smile.

He nodded, leaning his elbows on the glass next to you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, just listening to the distant hum of the city and the muffled laughter coming from inside. Your heart started beating faster at his presence, and his perfume lingering in the air made your mind hazy.

It wasn’t the first time you’d felt that spark between you two. Lately, it seemed to happen more and more—stolen glances, casual touches that didn’t feel so casual, and the way his voice softened whenever he spoke just to you. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were imagining it or if he was just good at hiding how he felt because he wouldn’t want to ruin your friendship.

You glanced at Hollis, your expression thoughtful. "Everything okay?"

He hesitated before answering, his gaze fixed on the city lights. "Yeah, I’m good. Just... thinking, I guess."

Gently, you nudged his shoulder, your touch sending a small jolt through him. "You know you can talk to me, right? Tell me what’s wrong."

He let out a soft, nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nah, it’s nothing. I just... really enjoyed our time together tonight. I mean, I always do, but this was different. I just... I wanna spend more time with you like this... alone" His voice faltered, and he swallowed hard before finally looking at you, his eyes full of a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before. You felt your heart flutter, your cheeks warming at his words. Gathering a bit of courage, you took a small step closer, your fingers brushing against his.

"I’d like that too" you admitted softly and he moved his hand on yours.

"Yeah?"

You nodded, “Yeah, i like being with you…just us” looking up at his tall frame.

Hollis’s lips curved into a shy smile, his confidence wavering just a bit as his eyes flickered between yours and your lips. Taking a shaky breath, he leaned closer. For a moment, he hesitated, as if giving you a chance to pull away—but when you didn’t, he closed the distance and pressed his lips softly to yours.

You leaned in closer, deepening the kiss as your hands slid up to rest against his chest. Hollis responded by placing his hands on your waist, his thumb gently caressing your side, making your heart flutter. The kiss grew more confident, both of you lost in the warmth and softness of the moment.

Just then, the sound of the balcony door sliding open made you both pull apart, your faces flushed and breathing a little uneven. One of your friends poked their head out, completely oblivious to what they had just interrupted.

“ Yo, we’re ordering food—any preferences?” they called out, not noticing the way you and Hollis quickly stepped apart, trying to act casual.

Hollis cleared his throat, glancing at you with a small, sheepish smile before answering. “Uh... no, I’m good with anything.”

Your friend nodded and slipped back inside, leaving the two of you standing there with matching grins and hearts still racing.

After finishing your food, the tension between you and Hollis still lingered in the air, subtle yet unmistakable. Every now and then, your eyes would meet across the room, and a quiet thrill would race through you before one of you quickly looked away.

Eventually, everyone called it a night, saying their goodbyes before retreating to their rooms. You settled into bed, but sleep wouldn’t come easily. Your mind kept replaying the kiss, the feel of his hands on your waist, and the way he’d looked at you with that soft, vulnerable expression. No matter how much you tried to calm your thoughts, your heart wouldn’t stop racing, leaving you sleepless.

“Bro, come on, we’re gonna be late!” Nate called out to one of the guys to hurry.

You held the camera steady, capturing the chaos as everyone scrambled to get ready for Hollis’s show. Since last night’s kiss, nothing else had happened between you two. You’d been surrounded by the others all day, and although you couldn’t help but steal glances at Hollis whenever he was nearby, there hadn’t been a single moment alone together.

You sat in the VIP section of the venue, making sure to get the best angle for the vlog. The energy was electric—your friends on stage giving it their all, the crowd going wild with every song. You couldn’t help but get caught up in the excitement, a proud smile on your face as you filmed the unforgettable moments.

“That shit was crazyyy, bro!” Nate yelled into the camera, grinning from ear to ear as he threw his arm around one of the guys. The show had ended some minutes ago and everyone was backstage.

You panned the camera to catch Hollis as he fixed his earrings and wiped the sweat from his forehead, still catching his breath. When he noticed you filming, he shot you a lopsided smile and walked over, his eyes bright with excitement.

“How was it?” he asked, his voice a little raspy from performing.

You lowered the camera just enough to give him a genuine smile.

“Amazing. You killed it out there.”

His grin widened, and he hesitated for a moment before reaching out to squeeze your hand briefly, giving you a look that made your heart race all over again.

“Glad you were here to see it.”

Your cheeks warmed at the brief touch of his hand, and you barely had time to process it before someone called his name from across the room. Hollis gave you one last smile before walking over to join the others, who were already talking about heading back to the hotel.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your heartbeat as you continued filming the chaos backstage—everyone sharing stories, laughing, rapping and still buzzing with adrenaline. A little while later, when most of the guys had moved on to pack up their gear, you found yourself in a quieter corner, reviewing some of the footage on the camera.

Suddenly, Hollis appeared beside you, leaning against the wall with a casual, tired grin.

“You really got everything, huh?” he teased, nodding toward the camera.

You smiled back. “Yeah, pretty much. Gotta make sure the vlog captures it all.”

He hesitated for a second, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice dropping to that gentle tone he used when it was just the two of you.

“About last night...I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you looked up to his eyes.

“Me too” you admitted, your voice almost a whisper.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little nervous despite his usual confidence.

“Can we maybe... talk later? Just us? I just... I don’t want that to be a one-time thing.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you nodded. “I’d like that.”

Relief washed over his face, and he shot you a smile before going back to packing his things.

“Born to do the most… forced to do the least”

Hollis said to the camera, doing a silly expression before breaking into a grin, making you laugh out loud as he lay on the bed, reviewing the footage for his “style” video clip.

After an hour or so, everyone eventually went to their rooms, calling it a night. You hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Hollis alone, and the anticipation was starting to eat at you. You sat on the edge of your bed, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone when a soft knock sounded at your door.

You quickly set your phone down, crossing the room to open it. There stood Hollis, looking a little disheveled, his hair messy and his shirt slightly wrinkled, but you loved it.

“Hey” he whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one else was around.

“Nate’s finally knocked out. Mind if I come in?”

You stepped aside to let him in, your pulse quickening as he slipped inside and gently closed the door behind him. A shy smile tugged at your lips as you spoke.

“I was hoping you’d come”

He turned to look at you. “Yeah?…I really wanted to see you”

Hollis took a hesitant step closer, towering your short frame.

“Y/N... I feel so good when I’m with you” He said softly, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Lately, you’re all I can think about. I was kinda scared about kissing you—I didn’t want to mess things up between us—but... I really fucking enjoyed it.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and without thinking, you reached up and cupped his cheek. You looked him in the eyes, a soft, sultry look appearing on your face.

“Kiss me again, then” you whispered.

He didn’t hesitate this time. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as his lips met yours in a kiss that was deeper and more intense than the last. Your fingers threaded through his hair, and he let out a quiet, contented sigh against your mouth.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were slightly breathless, and he rested his forehead against yours with a lazy, satisfied grin. His eyes softened as he looked at you, brushing his thumb along your cheek.

“I want more... with you,” he whispered, his voice low and sincere.

“I love you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and a smile spread across your face as you cupped his face in your hands.

“I love you too” you whispered back, your voice full of honesty and warmth.

He couldn’t help but smile, his arms tightening around you as he kissed you again—this time slower, savoring every second. You took a deep breath and whispered.

“Can you sleep here tonight?”

“Yeah” he replied without hesitation.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

A wave of relief washed over you, and you couldn’t help but smile as he pulled you closer, his hands tracing gentle patterns on your back. You leaned into his embrace, resting your head against his chest as his fingers brushed through your hair.

For a moment, you stopped talking, just soaking in the quiet intimacy of the moment. You felt his heartbeat under your cheek, steady and comforting, and it made you realize how safe you felt with him.

“Feels so good being able to say how i feel to you now”

You nod, then soon after, you leaned up and kissed him again, slow and unhurried, like you had all the time in the world. Your hands moved from his shoulders to his chest, feeling the warmth radiating through his shirt. His grip on your waist tightened, and he pulled you even closer, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. Your bodies pressed together, and a soft sigh escaped your lips.

The kiss grew hungrier, his hands roaming up your body as if he couldn’t get enough of being close to you. Your lips trailed down his jawline to his neck, leaving sloppy, heated kisses along his skin. You could feel him shiver under your touch as you sucked gently, leaving marks that made him let out a low, breathless groan.

His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you even closer, and you could feel his growing tent poking you. You moved to his ear, your lips brushing against it as you whispered,

“I want you”

A shaky breath escaped his lips, and he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with desire.

“want you more”,

he whispered back, his hands sliding under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin.

His lips found yours again, more desperate this time, as if he couldn’t hold back anymore. He guided you to the bed, his body pressing against yours as his hands explored the skin under your shirt, never breaking the kiss. He sat on the edge of the bed with you on his lap, leaving open mouthed kisses on your jaw and neck, making soft whines escape your mouth.

The sounds you made only making him harder, he put his hands on your hips, pushing you down on his erection. You slowly start grinding on him, moaning in his ear from the way his hard dick feels on your pussy.

“H-Hollis, wait” you stammered, suddenly gathering your thoughts and pulling back just enough to catch your breath.

He froze instantly, concern flashing across his face as he looked at you, his hands still resting on your waist. “Mh? What’s wrong?” he asked gently, his voice soft and reassuring.

You bit your lip, feeling a little embarrassed but knowing you needed to be honest.

“I just... I’ve never done this before,” you admitted, your cheeks burning.

His expression softened, and he cupped your cheek with one hand, his thumb brushing tenderly over your skin. “I know, baby” he whispered, the pet name making your heart flutter and your pussy wetter. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. I’ll be gentle”

“Okay…” you whispered softly, the nervousness melting away as you looked into his eyes. Then, without a second thought, you closed the distance, crashing your lips onto his with a newfound confidence. He responded immediately, deepening the kiss as his hands slid down to your ass, firmly squeezing it. You start grinding on him again, wrapping your arms around his neck. You panted and moaned as he moved your hips on him faster. His hands moving to your shirt pulling it off of you, revealing your bare chest.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, makin’ me, mhp…so hard”

You whined in his ear, and he kissed your collarbone, pushing you harder against him, as he gently squeezed your tit, his fingers playing with your nipple.

“I’ve fantasized about this for so long” he admitted, caressing your ass.

“Mmh,fuck…need you—ahh…so bad” your small moans and whines filled the room.

“…‘m so close” you panted, your voice shaky as your hands gripped his shoulders tightly. He leaned close, kissing you, and suddenly picked you up and placed you on the bed, hovering on top of you. He placed soft kisses on your jaw, his hands moving to your sides.

“Let me take care of you, princess” he softly whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

He moved his hand under your shorts and panties, placing his fingers on your heat. You gasped at the feeling, arching your back. He smiled at your reaction, kissing your neck and biting on the marks he left before. He started moving his fingers on your clit in a circular motion, moans leaving your mouth as you held him close to you.

“mh, so wet ‘f me, baby” he muttered, feeling your wet folds.

He took his hand out of your panties, making you whine from the loss. He sat up, and placed soft kisses on your tummy, positioning himself between your thighs. He held onto the hem of your shorts, sliding them down with your panties, throwing them somewhere in the room.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby”

He wrapped his arms around your legs, leaving soft kisses on your inner thighs. You flinched under him, your breath quickening as you try to close your legs together from your embarrassment.

“Relax , princess, let me make you feel good, hm?

“O-Okay..” you stuttered and nodded, slowly opening your legs for him.

He went back to kissing your thighs, until you felt his slender fingers on your soaking cunt. He spread your folds, feeling your wetness, as he leaned closer and put his warm tongue on your clit, making you gasp and slightly pull on his hair. His mouth slowly moved faster, sucking and licking on your pussy. Your grip on his hair tightened as you arched your back, moaning and whining from the intense pleasure.

“You taste so good, princess…mmh” he whispered, his mouth vibrating on your clit. Suddenly, he slipped two fingers in your hole, stretching it out, his mouth never stopping, as you bit your lip trying to hold your moans from escaping. He moved faster and faster, devouring your swollen pussy, bringing you closer to your climax.

“ S-Stop���ahh…Hollis…”,

you managed to gasp out, your hands moving to his shoulders as you gently pushed his head away.

“Hm?”,

he asked softly, looking up at you, his tone full of worry. His hands eased their grip on you, giving you space as he searched your face for any sign of discomfort.

“Don’t wanna cum yet, wan you to fuck me” you whined.

Your words made his dick twitch, his eyes widened and breath quickened.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna do any—“

“Yes Hollis, fuck me…please, i need you” you immediately cut him off.

He swallowed hard, taking his shirt off in a swift motion, then his pants, and he hovered over you, kissing your lips softly, his hard bulge pushing on your pussy through his boxers.

“Want you…in me” you whispered in his ear, moving your hands to the hem of his boxers tugging on them.

“So eager for my dick, princess?” he cooed, as you whined and nodded fast. He then took his boxers off, his hard cock hitting his abdomen, making you drool at the sight. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him hungrily, as he grinded his bare dick on your heat, taking in his hand and rubbing it up and down your soaked folds.

“Mhp..fuck” you moaned.

He put his tip on your entrance, slowly pushing it in, not wanting to hurt you. You gasped from the sudden pain, tightening your grip on his back.

“Is this okay, baby?” he softly muttered in your ear, his voice gentle and full of care.

You swallowed back a shaky breath, your hands gripping his shoulders and you nodded.

“Y-Yeah... keep moving,” you reassured him, pulling him closer to you.

His lips brushed against your neck, planting soft kisses as he continued, his movements slow and careful, until he filled you up completely. Soft whines left your mouth, as you tried to catch your breath, adjusting to his size. He started moving again, carefully, going in and out of you, the pain you felt slowly turning into pleasure, and the tears forming in your eyes fell on your flushed cheeks.

“so tight ‘n warm”

His pace quickened, bringing your leg around his wait so he could thrust deeper into you. You panted and moaned uncontrollably, as he wrapped his hands tightly around your throat, lightly squeezing it, and kissing you passionately. His other hand moved on your clit, circling it with his thumb, still pounding into your tight hole.

“Ahh, ngh…feels s-so good” you whimpered, trying to speak properly as his hand squeezed your throat. Feeling overstimulated by his dick and thumb, you suddenly felt a tight knot in your tummy, and you tugged on his hair.

“mhh…’m gonna cum”

“Cum for me, princess…make a mess on my dick” he whispered in your ear, kissing your jaw.

And just by hearing that, you came, moaning his name, creaming his cock, your legs trembling as his thrusts became slower.

“Hold on a little more baby, fuck, i’m so close”

You squirmed under him. He gripped your hips, pushing them firmly on the bed, his fingers bruising your soft skin as he sloppily fucked your dripping pussy.

“Cum in me” you bawled.

“What?!You sure?”

“Yes, please…I love you”

And with a few more thrusts, he finishes in you, “Fuck…”, filling you up with his warm white liquid.

“I love you so much, fuck, my pretty girl”

He presses a soft kiss on your lips , and collapses onto you. For a moment you didn’t say anything, just trying to catch your breath, his cum leaking from your hole. He sits up, and puts his boxers back on.

“Let me clean you up, hm?”

Hollis slipped out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, returning with a towel. Gently, he cleaned your abdomen, his touch tender and careful, never breaking the comfortable silence between you. As he worked, he pressed soft, affectionate kisses along your stomach and up your body, making you giggle softly at the ticklish sensation.

Once he was done, he tossed the towel aside and climbed back into bed, pulling you into his arms. You nestled against his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow and steady beneath your cheek. He pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head, his voice low and full of warmth.

“You okay?”

You nodded, smiling sleepily.

“More than okay” you whispered, looking up to meet his gaze.

He grinned, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from your face.

“Good...I love you” he murmured, his thumb grazing your cheek.

“I love you too” you replied, leaning up to kiss him one more time, slow and sweet, before drifting to sleep in his embrace.

my other works ➵ masterlist

A/N: Not sure if i like this enough, but anyway! I’ll definitely write more hotel inspired fics. Feedback and comments are appreciated!! <3

© guliexe 2025 all rights reserved.

[silverb0wties]

Lemonade - Part 2

Lemonade || leah williamson x alessia russo x child!reader

Summary: When something bad happens to your Mummy and Daddy, you end up living with your Aunty Lessi and Aunty Leah.  But is there room for you considering they have a new baby on the way?

Chapter Summary: Your first few days in your new home.

Warnings: reliving of traumatic events, mentions of death, pregnancy

a/n: Will make more sense if you read Part 1 first.

Thank you to everyone for the warm welcome back. I really, really appreciate it 🫶

PART 2

You couldn’t really believe how different your room looked now.  Your Aunties had gone a bit overboard and it had somehow transformed from a very plain and adult looking room, to a soft and colourful squishy bedroom.  You now had a cozy single bed with a purple duvet cover and lots of new stuffies.  You had a bookshelf that was already half filled with books and a desk with drawers filled with all different coloured papers and various drawing supplies.  Your wardrobe was filled with all sorts of new clothes, including brand new school uniforms and a new backpack.  There’s a big fluffy rug on the floor and a small nightlight shaped like a bunny on your bedside table. 

Beside the bunny nightlight there was a picture frame with a photo of you, your Mummy and your Daddy in it.

It made you feel a bit sad, but you still don’t want to cry.  You hadn’t cried since they died.

You didn’t cry when you found out.  You didn’t cry at their funeral.  You didn’t cry when your Nana took you to see what was left of your home.  You just felt an overwhelming sense of nothing about it all.  You didn’t know how else to explain it.

You did however still feel anxious and trembly and on edge about your new living situation.  You of course knew that Aunty Lessi and Leah would never do anything on purpose to hurt you, but you didn’t want to do anything to upset them or make them angry.  You wanted to be good.  You needed to be good.    

So, as you lay tucked into your squishy new bed, you tried your best to just fall asleep.  You’d wanted to read a book like you usually did before bed, but your nightlight wasn’t bright enough.  So once Aunty Lessi had turned the big light off, you had been left to just toss and turn.  You’d tried counting sheep.  Well, you’d tried counting bunnies actually, but that didn’t help.  Then you tried listing off all the different breeds of bunnies that you could think of, and then you tried to list off all the books you had read and at some point you finally, finally drifted off to sleep.

The next morning it’s your birthday and you’re sitting at the kitchen table with your Mummy and Daddy as they sing happy birthday to you.  There are some presents beside you and a big card with a number 8 and a bunny on it.  You make a wish and go to blow your candles out, but instead of blowing them out, you take a birthday candle off your cake and flick it onto the floor.  The whole house erupts in flames as you walk out the front door, not even stopping to look back as you hear your Mummy and Daddy’s scream.

Suddenly you wake up, gasping for air and covered in sweat.  Your sheets are all tangled around you, and you feel like you’re being strangled.  You leap out of the bed, desperate to escape the location of your nightmare.  You just wanted to escape to somewhere far, far away.  Anywhere would do.  Anywhere but the place where your head was currently.

So, you escape the best way you know how.  Looking around the room, you figure out what supplies you’ll need to gather: a sheet, a torch of some kind, Arthur (of course) and a book.  Once gathered, you sat on the big fluffy rug and pulled the sheet over your head before cracking the new book open and diving into whatever world awaits you.  The relief is instant. 

You’re not too sure how long it is before you hear a few footsteps followed by your bedroom door creaking open gently.

“Bunny, what are you doing up sweetie?”

You panic.  You’d been caught by your Aunty Leah.  Surely you were going to get in all sorts of trouble for being up this late when you should have been in bed asleep.

You quickly turn off the makeshift torch (you’d discovered some kind of bouncy ball that lit up when you hit it and was just bright enough) and hurried to push the sheet and book away, before diving back into your bed and getting under the covers. 

“S-sorry Aunty Leah.  I’m really sorry…”

Your voice was trembling.  In fact, your whole body was trembling.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

“Hey, hey… you have nothing to apologise for sweetheart.”  Your Aunty Leah walked over towards your bed.  “Is it okay if I sit with you for a bit?”

You nodded, unsure where this conversation was going.  She sat down on the side of bed, one hand on her big baby belly, the other reaching forward to gently stroke your cheek.

It felt really nice.  You very much wanted one of her hugs right about now.

“Sorry for waking y-you up, Aunty Leah.  I promise I didn’t mean to.  I’ll try to be more quiet in the future.”

“Oh Bun, you didn’t wake me up.  This one did” she poked at her belly and chuckled.  “They’re currently doing star jumps on my bladder and making me need the loo every 10 minutes.  I just thought I’d check on you while I was up.”

A small part of you relaxed knowing you hadn’t woken her up, but you were still waiting for her to punish you for being up past your bedtime.  Not that you really knew what your bedtime was now.  It used to be 8 o’clock, but you were allowed to read in bed with your reading lamp for a little while after that.  Surely it was way, way past 8 o’clock now though.

“Were you having trouble sleeping?” she asked.

“Kind of…”

“Did you have a scary dream?”

You gulped.  That wasn’t exactly how you would describe it, but you also didn’t have any better words to use, so instead you just nodded.

“Oh sweetie, I’m sorry.  You can always come find your Aunty Lessi or I if you have a bad dream or you’re having trouble sleeping.  We’re always happy to give you snuggles in our bed.”

You just nod, afraid to tell her that you couldn’t climb into her and Aunty Lessi’s bed.  Bad things happen when you sleep in beds that aren’t yours.  You would never tell your Aunties, but you had slept on the floor the two nights before your brand-new bed had arrived, too scared to sleep in the big, adult bed in case something bad happened again.

“I’m happy to see you reading the books we picked out though.  We weren’t too sure what you had and hadn’t read, so we just tried to get you your own little library going…”

All of a sudden, the most intense wave of panic hit you, followed by a terrifying realisation.  For the first time since your parents died, you started to cry.  And it wasn’t the gentle, weepy kind of cry.  It was the big, jagged breaths and snotty nose tears streaming down your face kind of cry.

“Oh my goodness… I’m- I’m going to get in so much trouble! They’ll never let me back there again.  I’ll have to find some way to make all the money to pay them back.  It’s- it’s going to take me years.  I- I- I’ll never-”

“Woah, woah… deep breaths, deep breaths.  Copy me, in through your nose, out through your mouth.”

You copied your Aunty Leah and your breathing slowly started to settle down, your panic subsiding a little, but your tears continued to fall.

“That’s it. Well done, Bunny.  Can you tell me what made you so upset just now?” she asked.

“All of my library books were in my bedroom and… and I must have had at least 15 or 16 of them.  And Nana said nothing from my room made it through the fire and Mummy always said if I didn’t treat the library books good or if I lost one that I would have to save up all my pocket money to replace it.  Because if the books get lost or broken then no-one else can borrow them.”

You’re getting worked up again, your voice beginning to rise. 

“But I don’t have any pocket money, coz it was all in my bunny bank, and that would have gone in the fire too and it’s going to take me forever to save up enough to replace 16 books and the librarians will be so mad at me.  They’ll probably never let me back in the library or any library ever again!”

It was the most you had spoken since you had moved in with your Aunties, and you could tell that your Aunty Leah was a bit shocked at your outburst.  Suddenly Aunty Lessi appeared at your door in her pyjamas.  You must have woken her up now too.

Hopeless. Hopeless. Hopeless.

“I’m sorry for being so loud, I shouldn’t have shouted. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

At some point, you’re not really sure when, you’d buried your face into the fur of Arthur’s belly, rubbing the softness across your skin in an effort to calm yourself down.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

The words just kept tumbling out of your mouth, losing all sense and meaning.  You just kept saying them over and over, feeling like both them and the soft fur of your beloved Arthur were the only things keeping you tethered to the earth right now.

But then you were being lifted out of your bed sheets and being pulled into a tight embrace.  You assumed it was your Aunty Lessi.  There was no baby belly and it smelled like Aunty Lessi.  She wore the same perfume as your Mummy did.  You clung to her with all your strength, even though you were still afraid that she was angry at you for waking her up.  She stroked your hair and ran her fingers gently up and down your back as she walked around the room with you in her arms, rocking you slightly.  You felt like a baby, but you didn’t care.  You knew you were a big girl who could and would look after herself, but just for this moment, this one moment, you just wanted to be little again.  You just wanted to be held and comforted and cuddled and loved.

You just wanted your Mummy and Daddy.

And just as quickly as the wave of panic and outburst of tears hit you, the balloon of emotions grew too big, and popped.  Once again, you felt nothing. 

Your tears dried, your breathing settled and your tight grip on your Aunty loosened until she placed you gently back down in your bed.  Your Aunty Leah brushed your hair back from your face, tucking it behind your ear and cupping your cheek.  She looked at you with what seemed to be a mixture of concern and confusion, as if she couldn’t quite figure out how you’d gone so quickly from a shaking, crying little baby back to your previous state of nothingness.  You couldn’t figure it out either, it’s just how it was.

“Bunny, I don’t want you worry about those library books for a single second.  We will talk to the librarians and if there are any fees that need to be paid, Aunty Lessi and I will make sure they are taken care of.  The library isn’t going to stop you from coming to visit because something really, really awful has happened to you.  We will make sure you get to go back and pick out plenty of new books to read, okay?  We will always make sure you have plenty of books to read.  We promise.”

--

The next day when your Aunty Lessi went off to training, Aunty Leah took you down to the library.

She had asked you if you wanted to talk to the librarian or if you wanted her to do it for you.  Whilst everything inside of you screamed to let her do the talking, you were a big girl, and it was your fault the books got destroyed, so you had to do this yourself.  So, you walked up to the counter and with trembling hands pressed the little silver bell on the bench and waited patiently for a librarian to come help you.

A kind looking lady with fuzzy black hair and big brown eyes approached the desk and gazed down toward you.  “And how can I help you today, little lady?”

With a deep breath and a tight squeeze of your beloved Arthur, you began to explain.

“My house burned down.  I had borrowed lots and lots of books because I love to read but they all got burned in the fire so I can’t return them.  So I-I-I know I need to pay loads of money to replace them, but I need to know how much so I can start saving…”

The lady looked from you, up towards your Aunty Leah stood just behind you, who had what you could only describe as a sad smile on her face as she nodded at the librarian.

“Well, it sounds to me like the only thing that needs replacing here is your library card.  I’m assuming you lost that in the fire too darling?”

You hadn’t even considered your library card.  Were you going to have to pay for that as well?

“Oh yeah, I did.  So umm… how much will it all cost all together then, with the library card added on?”

Useless. Useless. Useless.

“Oh no sweetie, what I’m saying is that you don’t have to pay for anything.  We’ll just make sure we get you set up with a replacement library card so that you can keep borrowing from the library and keep on reading!”

You were shocked.  You were certain that the fee was going to be huge.  Absolutely massive.  And even though you knew your Aunties had said they’d pay for it, you’d promised yourself you would save up and pay them back every last pound.

“Really?”

“Absolutely!  Here, you just need pick out which design you would like on your new library card, and I’ll just grab a few details off your Mum here and-”

“She’s my Aunty.  My Mummy died in the fire.  So did my Daddy.”

A tense silence filled the air as you went about looking over the laminated sheet of paper showing you the card design options.

“Can I get the one with the purple ladybirds, please?”

--

When your Aunty Lessi came home from training that afternoon, she had her kit bag on her shoulder and a couple of shopping bags in her hands.

“Hi my loves!”

You watched from your spot on the armchair as your Aunty Leah walked in from the kitchen and gave Aunty Lessi a kiss ‘hello’.  After their kiss, Aunty Lessi bent down to rub her hands over Aunty Leah’s tummy and pressed a few kisses there too.  They were exchanging soft words, but they were talking a bit too quietly and were standing a bit too far away for you to hear.

Your insides felt a weird jumbly feeling whenever you saw the pair of them kiss and cuddle, especially when Aunty Lessi would kiss or talk to Aunty Leah’s baby belly.  A part of you felt this really warm, light kind of feeling that made you want to sing and fly and twirl, but a bigger part of you felt this awful sinking feeling that made want to run and hide.  When they combined, they made you feel like you might be sick.

In an effort not to throw up all over your Aunties nice furniture, you leapt from the armchair and ran quietly towards the bathroom, making sure to close the door gently behind you.

Whilst you didn’t end up being sick, you found relief in the feeling of the cool bathroom tiles against your skin as you lay on the floor staring up at the ceiling.  You weren’t sure how long you’d been laying there, running your fingers across the smooth flooring, before you heard a soft knock at the door. 

“Bunny? Are you okay in there?  You’ve been in there a little while?”

Lifting your head off the cool tiles, you rummaged together a response for your Aunty Lessi.

“Uhh, yeah.  Just a bit of a yucky tummy.  I’m okay,” you replied.

“Alright sweetie, let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you Aunty Lessi.”

Your head hit the tiles again with a soft thud.

Reluctantly you got to your feet, straightened your clothes and looked at yourself in the mirror.  You made sure to flush the toilet to make your lie seem a little more realistic, and you washed your hands so that they would smell like your Aunties nice vanilla soap.

When you emerged from the bathroom and re-entered the living room, your Aunty Lessi got off the couch where she had been sitting and shuffled on her knees over to you.

“How are you feeling, Bun?”

She looked you over as one of her hands ran over your forehead, checking for a temperature, whilst the other ran soothingly up and down your back.

“I’m fine.  My tummy was just a bit upset, but it’s all good now.  I’m fine.” 

“Do you want some water or some toast or-”

“I’m fine, Aunty Lessi.”

“Okay, well you let us know if you need anything or you feel worse, alright?” she insisted.

You nodded, gently stepping out of her grasp as you shuffled back toward the armchair you had been sitting in, aiming to reunite with Arthur and your book.

There was a brief silence as you got yourself settled, but then Aunty Lessi returned to the room with the shopping bags from earlier.

“I got you a couple of things, Bunny.”

You looked up from your book, confused to find your Aunty Lessi now sitting in front of the coffee table.  She was patting the spot beside her, indicating to you she wanted you to join her on the rug.  You shuffled back down off the armchair, this time bringing Arthur with you, and tentatively sat in the spot she’d gestured at.

“Well, I know you’re not that big on sports or football, but I thought maybe you might want to come along to our game next weekend?  It’s totally up to you and completely okay if you don’t want to come along! Nana has already said she’ll come around and look after you if you’re not interested.  But just in case you do want to come, or if you ever want to later down the track, I got you some gear so you’ll fit right in and match everyone.”

She started pulling a bunch of red and white clothing out of a bright red shopping bag, each one with the same pictures and words printed somewhere on them.  The final item she pulled out was a mostly red shirt with the word ‘BUNNY’ in big white block writing across the back and the number 23 under it.

“I wasn’t too sure what to get on your jersey, but I figured as Aunty Leah isn’t really playing this season, we’d start with my number, 23, and maybe we can swap to 6 next season or on an away jersey or something.  Or you can pick your favourite number, or another player if you prefer…”

Aunty Leah laughed loudly beside you at the last remark.

“The only rule is that you’re not allowed to pick McCabe’s number, because we will never hear the end of that, okay?” she told you.

You nodded, not quite understanding what she meant, but filing that information away for later.  It seemed important. 

As you surveyed the sea of red and white clothing, you felt a strong sense of obligation to attend the game.  You knew that football was very, very important to your Aunties and they spent a lot of their time playing the sport.  And whilst you only very vaguely understood the rules (kick the ball into the back of the big net thing), you thought maybe with your brand-new library card you might be able to borrow a few books on football and learn about it some more.  You loved to learn, and perhaps this could be an opportunity to learn about something completely new.

“Can Arthur come to the game too?”

You watched as both your Aunties eyes lit up with excitement as they both shouted “Of course!”

“Okay, we will come then.”

“Are you sure, Bun?  You don’t have to just because Aunty Lessi got you some gear,” your Aunty Leah was sitting on the very edge of the couch now, her hand reaching out towards yours.

“I’m sure.  And it’s good coz I want to learn more about football because it means a lot to you” you replied as you took hold of her hand before turning to face Aunty Lessi  “To both of you.”

“Well, we will be honoured to have you come along with us.  And I’ll try and score a goal just for you” your Aunty Lessi said.

You like the sound of that.  That gave you the light kind of feeling that made you wanted to sing and fly and twirl, but without the other horrible sinking feeling that made you want to run and hide.

“What’s- what’s in the other bag?” you asked.

“Oh, thank you for reminding me, I nearly forgot with all the excitement about the game,” she reached over the coffee table and pulled a brown cardboard box out of the bag.  “It’s nothing fancy, but your Aunty Leah realised we didn’t get you a proper lamp for reading, so I popped into the shops and picked you up one.  Now you can read before bed or if you wake up throughout the n-”

You cut her off before she finished her sentence, launching yourself at her in the tightest hug you could muster.  You could have cried at the thoughtfulness.  In fact, you think you may have been crying, just a tiny little bit. 

“Thank you, Aunty Lessi.” 

You quickly pulled back and stumbled over to the couch where Aunty Leah was sitting, wrapping your arms around her the best you could with her big baby belly in the way.

“Thank you, Aunty Leah,” you whispered as her hands ran through your hair.

“No more using a bouncy ball as a torch, yeah?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

[emeritusemeritus]

The way that I ran here as soon as I saw that your requests are open...!

Could I ask for a fic of reader and George cuddled up in bed (with reader sitting in between his legs leaning on him - so readers back is against his chest) drinking hot chocolate, watching a movie and enjoying the start of their little Christmas break? And while reader is leaning back on George, readers' soft legs under the blanket distract him from what they're watching 🤭. Gentle kisses on her neck and sweet praises in her ear as he reaches between her legs, just wanting his sweet girl to feel nice and relaxed 😚

Merry (early) Christmas x

Hi lovely Anon! This has been such a pleasure to write, I love cozy George! I hope you enjoy and MERRY CHRISTMAS 🎄🖤

Warnings: smut, PinV sex, graphic sex, mirror sex, fingering, George is a bit of a simp, Christmas traditions. Bit of swearing, major fluff. Almost no plot lol. The POV is a little all over the place as I wanted to show both internalised thoughts and the scene.

Word count: 2.8k

George’s Christmas Angel

"Okay we have hot chocolates with those big marshmallows you like, snacks, some homemade cookies I nicked from your mums aaandd Christmas lights!" You say with glee as you step into yours and George's bedroom levitating a tray full of goodies, pausing to turn on the lights to the tree you'd tirelessly toiled over all day to make it look perfect for tonight.

George is already laid on the bed, his plaid pyjamas hung low on his hips and shirtless, fresh from the shower. He grabs the tray as is floats towards him and puts it on his beside table, careful not to spill the drinks before he turns to you again.

"Oh before I forget," you say absently, talking to yourself. You reach up and with one well practiced manoeuvre, you reach into your shirt and unclasp your bra, pulling out from under your top and throwing it into a pile near your chair.

When George notices what you're wearing, he suddenly falls silent, eyes widening at the sight before him. It's not sexy exactly, at least it wouldn't be if it was hung up somewhere, George wouldn't have even noticed it usually; but on your body, the way it clung to your curves, highlighting the places on your body that George loved the most (not that there were any that he didn't). George felt like he was drooling at the sight and had to discreetly wipe his chin to check when you weren't looking, feigning a nose scratch as he watched you bend down slightly to mess with the muggle tv ahead of the movie you were showing him for the first time. He can't look away, transfixed upon the curve of your bum, deliciously round and illuminated by the colourful pattern of your pyjamas, his eyes naturally drawn to the print. He clears his throat, forcing himself to look away, trying to focus on anything else in the room in the hopes it would hold his attention.

"George?

Your voice calls out to him and he turns his head to look back at you, throat forcing down a swallow as he looks upon your body, this time from the front. Your nipples are hard, now more noticeable than ever since the removal of your bra, breasts swishing at you move. George is completely transfixed, hardly able to string two words together in reply to you.

"I said do you need anything before I sit down?"

"No Angel, got everything I need right here," he says with a grin, arms reaching out to you with little grabby hands that insist on you coming to him right away. You laugh and let out a little squeal as he hoists you up onto the bed, positioning you between his thighs and gently urging you back to lay your head in his chest as he pulls the duvet over both of you. His chin tucks neatly on top of your head, always the perfect fit, as his arms snake around your waist so that he's holding you securely. The heat from his body radiates through your back, soothing you and relaxing you all in one. You realise with a great sense of contentment that there's nowhere you'd rather be than right here.

The film begins to play and you can't help but babble excitedly about how this was your favourite muggle Christmas film, the one that officially started your Christmas viewing every year and how you were so excited to show him all of your favourites in the years to come, if you didn't manage to squeeze them all into this particular festive season.

George is half listening, never one to drown out someone speaking so passionately about their interests, especially not his girl, but he's finding himself at increasingly distracted by your body laying between his legs. It's a wonder that you haven't noticed the prominent bulge rubbing against your lower back, especially with the way that it keeps twitching as if trying to seek out more contact, the blood in George's body racing to that one spot so quickly that he's almost dizzy.

Your legs are smooth and soft against his, just as silky as the lingerie you'd worn on your anniversary, the thought of those little panties never far from George's mind. Your chest rises and falls with every steady breath and he's helpless to look away from your breasts having the perfect view from his vantage point above you as he can stare right down into the delicious slope of your cleavage.

It's instinctual, primal almost as his arms unfurl from around you to stroke the smooth skin of your thighs. You shift a little on the spot, eyes still focused upon the television though George sees the way you lean into his touch, silently asking for more. His left hand slips along the exposed skin of your stomach before reaching up to cup your breasts. Your nipples are already pebbled and George's lips upturn into a smirk, his teeth dragging the skin of his bottom lip into his mouth just slightly as he watches the way your breasts fill his palms. His right hand slips towards the edge of your little shorts, toying with the fabric that lays dangerously close to your outer lips of your pussy, his fingers sliding down to your bikini line. Your hips rise slightly, silently beckoning him as your head raises slightly, allowing him unobstructed access to your neck.  His lips ghost against the skin of your neck and he smirks incessantly again when he feels you shiver slightly in his hold, goosebumps rising on your skin.

It's more erotic than it's ever felt, the sensuality of his touch so innocently arousing, like the days when you had to be quiet sneaking around in George's bedroom at the Burrow.

"Can I touch this perfect pussy Angel?" George coos into your ear, his fingers slipping just underneath the material of your shorts but still staying respectful as he awaits your answer.

"Please Georgie," you say breathlessly, opening your legs further for him, your arousal undeniable.

Instead of his fingers slipping out and down into the waistband of your shorts as you'd predicted, his fingers slip underneath the sides of your shorts, the thin material barely concealing your pussy.

You gasp as his fingers brush the smooth outer lips of your pussy, his touch featherlight and teasing as he traces the outline of you. Your hips move on their own accord, trying to prompt him to touch you more intimately, to stop teasing. His fingers suddenly pull open your outer lips and slip towards your little hole, long and deft fingers now tracing your inner lips and smearing the juices he finds there. One long digit draws up your wetness, tracing the seam of your cunt until he finds the sensitive nub at the core of your pleasure. Your head falls back onto his shoulder as his left hand squeezes your breast through the thin top in perfect timing with his ministrations, finger circling both your nipple and your clit in sync. He presses long and delicate kisses to your neck as his fingers play with you perfectly like a musician that had perfected their craft. You're writhing in delight, gasping out his name like it's the only thing you can remember.

Your chest heaves against the material confines of your top and he's quick to rectify that, lifting the flimsy material over the curve of your breasts, leaving you exposed to both his eyes and the chill of the room around you.

"You're so beautiful my Angel," he coos in your ear, the very tip of his index finger gently flicking the top of your clit, making you cry out at the sensation. He's soft and gentle but always with the tense of teasing, always wanting to hold back from the most obvious route to extend your pleasure. You can feel his erection pressed into your back, the wordless need conveyed so effortlessly that it makes you run up against it, wanting him to feel even a hint of the pleasure he was giving you.

"This is for you sweetheart, don't think of me right now, just enjoy it."

It's unbelievable that he could even conceive that you could think of anything else other than him in that moment, his fingers working over your most sensitive part so beautifully with the expertise of a man just like him that had been fucking your good for years. He knows exactly where you need him, your favourite spots, the ones that draw those long and bliss filled moans from your lips, the ones that make you cry out his name like a prayer and most notably the ones that catapult you to your edge in mere seconds.

"I love you so much," he whispers, fingers now circling the top of your clit in perfect rhythms, just beneath the hood in a steady rhythm that he knows you enjoy the most. You can't sit still, writhing under his touch, legs opening and closing as if simultaneously denying and accepting the pleasure bestowed upon you. His hands feel like pure magic on your body and you find yourself holding off your orgasm just for the chance of more.

When his fingers pull away from your skin you let out a low whine as you reach out for him in desperation for him to continue. You feel his chuckle, the vibrations passing between your bodies where you rest on him.

"Do you want my cock sweetheart? You've been so good."

"Please Georgie," you say breathlessly, trying to turn your head towards him but failing, the height difference not allowing you to see his face.

"I have an early Christmas present for you Angel. Take off your shorts," he gently commands before adding, "and that little top, I want to see every beautiful inch of your body on me."

You do as he asks in seconds. Even using magic couldn't have made your clothes disappear faster as you eagerly await the gift of George's cock, knowing that it had been the best gift you'd ever received years prior.

"Face away from me, I want you to see something," George instructs, giving you a warm but teasing smirk as he reaches out for you one again. He's completely naked before you, sat in much thrice same position that he was before but now the taught and freckled skin of his body is on display for you. The lines of his wide and strong shoulders, taught stomach and incredibly long legs, as well as the sight of his swollen cock all add to your arousal and you don't wait any longer to join him on the bed. You do as he asks and guide yourself to face away from him, looking down at where your cores rest just above each other, a delicious tease to what comes next.

He reaches down and grabs his swollen length, giving it a single stroke before his left hand rests in your hip to guide you, offering his cock for you to slip down onto.

You almost shudder in complete arousal as his bulbous tip slips between your folds, resting for only seconds at the very core of your pussy as you slowly sink down until he's penetrating you, filling you right to the brim. You're rendered both speechless and breathless by the sheer size of him, still the most glorious surprise even years later.

The groan that falls from his lips makes your walls clench around him, your eyes closing at the feel of your walls twitching and stretching to accommodate him. You delicately sit up, pulling off his hips for a moment as you slowly rise before sinking back down cautiously, testing the waters. You slowly increase the rhythm of your hips and in no time at all, your hips are canting on him faster and faster. You're both equally as loud in your affections, unable to hold back your cries of pleasure at the sensations. It wasn't often that you ever made love like this, at least not in this position, so unhurried.

He suddenly wraps a long arm around your middle and manoeuvres you so that he's now almost sitting, your bum nestled perfectly in his groin as he begins to move his hips quicker and harder against you, his right hand slips across your front and down to your clit, increasing your pleasure exponentially. Even in this position he's an artist with his fingers as he begins that perfect rhythms once again, finding that spot that makes you howl like a banshee, his name falling out of your mouth like a mantra.

"Look up Angel, look straight forward."

You do as he says, opening your eyes and fighting the urge to close them once again when his cock shifts just that little bit deeper from his change of angle, his hips flush to your bum.

You gasp when your eyes focus in front of you, seeing your reflection mirrored back, though you hardly recognise yourself. In this position, you're directly facing the mirror that you'd moved to accommodate the Christmas tree, not having noticed it's rather risqué new home. Your face is relaxed and yet also contorted into sheer ecstasy, eyes half lidded and pouting lips wide open. Your body is on display in the most exposing way, your legs separated by George's long legs, your breast cupped by his large hands and your clit being so meticulously toyed with. You're exposed and vulnerable but looking at you now, you don't see that, nor do you shy away from the view that you'd usually avoid under any circumstances. You look empowered and sexy with the smile of a woman that was satisfied in every sense. George looks incredible over your shoulder, his face scrunched up with the effort of his thrusts and the pleasure it brought as his slightly freckled hands occupy every inch of your body.

"Watch how I'm fucking you, how fucking beautiful you look."

It brings you closer to the edge quicker than you'd care to admit, seeing your reflection bounce on the cock of her boyfriend, your eyes fixed upon your spread open pussy that George was mercilessly teasing with his fingers. Your hips move faster now, almost bouncing on his cock as he groans and growls, his grip tightening on your breast as if to signal his own closeness.

"George, George!" You cry out, reaching your peak in an alarmingly short amount of time as you writhe on him. You want to keep your gaze upon your bodies in the mirror but your eyes close upon their own accord, the pleasure too much that it feels like it's consuming you. In the periphery of your mind, you can hear and feel George climaxing only seconds later but you're too lost in yourself to actively notice, still swimming through the brilliant haze of your orgasm, mind foggy from the sheer force of your climax.

When you come down from the high, you're panting and covered in a thin sheet of sweat, clinging to George as you feel him in much the same predicament below you. You glance back at the mirror, seeing your reflection wearing a contented smile, looking as cock drunk as you felt.

"So beautiful," he muses, your eyes meeting in the mirror whilst his hand slipping up and down your legs soothingly, slowly bringing your body back to normal. He slips out of you slowly, knowing how overstimulated you'd be and collapses back onto the bed. You turn to look at him, breaking your fixation upon the mirror and slide in beside him, his arms opening up for you instinctively as he wraps the duvet around your naked bodies once again. Your eyes divert briefly to the screen seeing that the movie is close to ending and there's a small pang of sadness that you'd missed most of the film, though you were far from sad at the distraction.

With a slight groan, George reaches across to his bedside table, grabbing his wand as it lay there and casts an enchantment upon the hot chocolates that lay long forgotten on the side, magically making them warm again. He hands you your mug as you sit up straighter in bed, pulling the duvet up with you to fight off the chill and graciously accept the warm mug, watching as a few extra marshmallows appear on top. You turn to George in confusion, watching as he winks at you and places down his wand again, sipping the hot chocolate with a moan of pleasure.

“Let’s start the film again baby,” George suggests, his eyes focusing on the television that was currently playing the credits to the film. “Start it from the beginning… we’ll see how like I can make it through before you distract me again.”

[mercurycft]

𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓 - 𝐋𝐖

## reader x leah williamson !! MINI FIC

hi pookies!! i’ve really been enjoying writing shorter and fluffier fics recently! somehow this ended up being a bit longer than intended! i hope you enjoy this! more to come. you’ll be able to find them under the “mini fics” section on my masterlist!! love always - RG x

2k words!

no warnings. pure in-love sweetness.

"so, what do you think, le?" you asked, eyes sparkling with excitement as you held up a newly-purchased jersey with the number six emblazoned on it.

leah looked up from her laptop, a smile playing on her lips. "it's perfect, lovie, just like everything else you pick." you replied with a sweet smile and a gentle eyeroll, folding the shirt neatly and pushing it to the side of the sofa which remains empty beside you.

the two of you sat in leah's living room, which as of a few days ago was now officially also yours too, cozied up beneath a blanket. you sat surrounded by boxes containing all of your beloingings, labelled by room and organised neatly into piles. re-runs of old shows playing on the tv ahead of you, casting flashes of colour across the room, overpowered by the lamp light from the corner of the room.

though you sat close together, leah had angled her body and screen away from you. tapping away on the keys with narrowed eyes of concentration. "what're you tip tapping away so furiously at?" you teased, lifting your head exageratedly to sneak a peak at her screen.

"hey, no peaking!" she quipped back, pulling the screen down to sheild it. "good things come to those who wait, love." she spoke after a second, lifting her hand and brushing her knuckles against your cheek gently.

"fine," you huffed, tilting your head to kiss her hand softly before turning back to the screen in front of you; attempting to drown out the noise of her tapping with the serene sounds of gavin and stacey.

the football season was in full swing, and your weekends were usually spent cheering from the stands, so a saturday in together was a rare but valued gift. you spent the time relaxing, allowing yourself to potter around. leah, on the other hand, seemed consistently distracted. whether that be by training, or whatever it is she seemed to be doing on her laptop or phone. you paid it no mind, aware of leah's growing responsibility. unbeknownst to you, that evening, leah had announced to the team her plans for the coming days.

you woke on sunday to leah leaning over you, training kit on and hair slicked into a ponytail at the back of her head. "good morning, love. im off in a minute, call me when you get up okay?" through the stirring of your sleep you murmured a small response and lifted to kiss her gently, before waving her out of the room.

it was past nine when you finally woke up fully. leah long gone and already at training as you made your way around the house carefree. after a swift call to leah, a lazy breakfast and a hot shower - you stumbled into the kitchen; towel still in hand and scrunching the last of the water out of your hair.

the sun shone through the kitchen windows, casting a warm glow on the gleaming counters. it was quiet without leah's usual 'morning country session' as you called it, and the sound of her soft singing echoeing through the hall. you grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table, scrolling through your phone.

your thumb froze mid-swipe when you saw a message from leah pop to the top of your screen. "hey, the girls keep bothering me about seeing you. wear your new jersey. love you x" you stifled a laugh at the thought of beth forcing leah to type and send the message, shaking your head softly and typing small reply.

you took your time getting dressed, slipping on the jersey adorned with leah's number six with a sense of pride. wearing it felt like a silent declaration of your support and love for her. as you made your way to the living room, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house.

your face screwed together with confusion, taking a second to swipe your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans to check the time. half ten. "can't be leah then," you thought aloud as you made your way to the front door, you swung it open to reveal beth. stood in her kit and holding two take-away cups of coffee in her hands.

"good morning, my favourite wag." she spoke cheerfully, moving into the open space you had created by opening the door further to let her in. you shared a small hug as she came in, laughing at her comment.

"you know i hate when you guys call me that," you laughed, but shook it off, taking one of the cups from her as she thrusted them towards you. "you're the best, but can i ask what you're doing here and not at training?" you shut the door behind her as she advanced further into the house.

"i have a late start and leah said to come and get you because-"

"she took the car," you both said in unison, breaking into a small shared laugh over leah's predictability.

"give me two minutes and ill be ready to go, just have to go put on my jewellery."

you retreated back into the bedroom, as you reached for your necklace, the doorbell rang again. you huffed quietly to yourself, confused on who else could possibly be at the door.

"i got it," beth called from downstairs, opening the door.

"what was it?" you asked as you made it down the stairs, clasping the necklace around your neck and shaking your hair onto your back.

"just a parcel," she said shrugging, placing it on the kitchen counter and turning back to you. "ready?"

you nodded, grabbing your keys and checking for your phone one last time before flicking off the lights and locking the door behind you.

the car ride was quick, and you and beth chatted the whole way. once you arrived at the grounds, beth led you around to the side entrance, away from the usual doors at the front. "whats going on?" you questioned with a quizzical look, "leah said to bring you here." she replied with a seemingly unbothered shrug.

you followed her down the corridor and into the changing room, which was unusually quiet and empty. beth stopped you just before the double doors, forcing you to turn around and face her one last time. she smiled at you, with nothing over than love with a small hint excitement. "where is everyone? you lot are stressing me out." you laughed, attempting to break the confusing silence.

"they're all outside, probably running circles around your mrs." she teased, eyes flicked across your features and hair, then down to the jersey. you watch as a smile spreads across her features and she reaches for your phone out of your hands.

"you're scaring me, i dont want to go out there alone if everyone is out there!" you whined like an anxiety ridden child, taking a deep breath as beth pushed your hair off your shoulders and looked directly into your eyes.

"you'll be fine. trust me, go out there."

beth nudged you gently towards the doors, the sound of your heartbeat growing louder in your ears. you took a deep breath and stepped out onto the field, squinting against the sudden burst of light. once they had focused to the brightness, your eyes skimmed across the pitch searching for leah.

your gaze finally fell into the middle of the pitch where players and staff seemed to crowd around someone down. your face fell into concern when you realised leah wasn't standing with them, and instead they were stood around her.

"leah?" you called, eyes wide as you sped up to reach the group. the sound of your voice brought a hush over the crowd, who all shared the same concerned look as they concealed leah from your view. you tried to calm your breathing as you made your way closer, mind reeling with the worst possible scenarios of why leah is on the floor. "leah?" you called again, now close enough to reach for some of the girls to move them aside. as your hand extended to push past katie, the girls in front of you parted - finally giving you a full view of leah.

however, it was not the view you expected. you had expected to see her on the floor, injured and writhing in pain. instead, what you found had you stopped dead in your tracks.

leah, knelt on the grass, her eyes glued to yours. her hand outstretched, a small velvet box balanced on her palm and clasped between her fingers. you couldn't read her expression, and couldn't bring yourself to say anything. the world around you seemed to fade into the background as you stared at her, your eyes wide.

you watched as she took a deep breath and began. "i have loved you from the moment we met on this very pitch, during that first interview all those years ago. i have loved you everyday since and will continue to love you everyday for the rest of my life. since that first day, you have changed my life in ways i will never be able to explain to you. i knew from the first time you laughed at one of my stupid media trained jokes that i would marry you. so, im down on one knee, ready to love you forever. will you marry me?" leah's voice was shaky and hopeful, her eyes never leaving yours.

you felt like the air had been knocked from your lungs. your hand flew to your mouth to cover the shock that washed over your features. the crowd around you was silent, their eyes flicking between leah and you, their expressions a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.

slowly, you stepped closer to her, the realization of what was happening settling into your heart. "are you serious?" you whispered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

"as serious as i've ever been," she replied with a hopeful smile.

you dropped down to your knees in front of her, wrapping your arms around her and pressing a swift kiss to her lips. "yes," you choked out, the word barely audible but clear enough for the entire field to hear. the crowd erupted into cheers, their claps and whistles piercing the quiet air like a gunshot.

leah's face broke into a grin so wide it could've split her face in two as she watched the tears fall down yours. she brought the box closer to you, revealing the ring nestled inside. it was simple, a silver band with a small diamond in the center - but to you, it was the most beautiful thing you had ever laid eyes on.

you took the box from her, watching as she lifted the ring out and slipped it onto your finger. it was a perfect fit, as if it had been made just for you. "yes," you repeated, louder this time so that everyone could hear the conviction in your voice. "i'll marry you, leah."

the crowd around you grew closer as the teammates you had come to know so well rushed in to embrace you both. the warmth of their arms around you, the sound of their cheers in your ears. they wrapped around the both of you, all smiles and laughter.

as the congratulations died down, you took a moment to swat her shoulder with a stern look "i thought you were hurt!" you muttered, looking down at the ring sat perfectly on your hand, then looking back to leah who mirrored your wide smile. before you could continue back and fourth, the sound of renee's voice called everyone back to training.

"you two got something to celebrate," she said with a knowing smile, "but remember, we've got a game on tuesday." you both laughed, as well as the rest of the girls surrounding you as leah moved to give renee a quick hug. around you the team split back into their usual groups to continue with their session, but leah made her way back to you.

"mrs williamson. it suits you."

[nesepte]

Hundred Steps | Jaehyun

Pairing: Jaehyun x fem! reader

Genre: soft jaehyun, fluff (he is cute in this), very mild angst, unsaid words, cozy, vinyl record store, music(al), rich jaehyun, but very humble jaehyun, acts of service love language jaehyun, small town, small shop owner, shop assistant jaehyun, first kiss, first crush, coming of age (?), senior jaehyun. Word Count: 6.5k words

A/n: Happy Jaehyun day, my loves! Here is the full fic. This is probably the sweetest fanfic I have ever written. Hope you find it so too! xD

Taglist: @yewshi @kanekisheart @cigsaftersuh

The air was warm against your cheek. The summer had ended but the heat lingered like a stubborn heart refusing to see reason. In front of you beyond the wrought iron gates, stretched the steps to your new life but you stood frozen in place.

Mind can be so fickle, and this restless heart even more so. You had waited your entire life to leave your hometown and move to the city. You had dreamed of this college every night and here it was, ready to welcome you.

But you turned your gaze behind— the city quiet from this height. Beyond the mountains in the distance, amidst the swirling roads that led to nowhere, your eyes searched for him.

Jaehyun…

It was two weeks after your high school graduation. You were working late in your father’s store for vinyl records. Just a few minutes before closing time you heard the ding of the tiny bell fixed atop the door. He stumbled in, trying to frantically shut his umbrella which was dripping onto the carpeted floor. His brown pants were soaked at the bottom and his white shirt was wrinkled at the joints.

‘That’s alright,’ you said and he looked up. Despite the umbrella, his hair was slightly damp and the tip of his nose was red. ‘We are closing soon,’ you told him. ‘If you want to browse, I suggest you come back tomorrow morning.’

His curious eyes darted from you to the aisle behind him. ‘Where is...?’

‘Are you looking for my dad?’ you asked, trying to keep your tone professional. ‘He fractured his leg. I’ll be taking care of the shop in his absence.’

He finally managed to close his umbrella and left it by the window.

‘Right,’ he said, walking into the glow of the dim lamp hanging from the ceiling above the counter. This close, you noticed that his cheeks were red too but it wasn’t particularly cold out that night.

‘I am sorry to hear that,’ he said, ‘but by any chance did he mention any Beatles record on hold?’

‘The Beatles…’ you mumbled to yourself and ducked behind the counter to check the cabinets. At the very top, wrapped neatly in a clear film was the record and stuck to it was a post-it that had the word paid written in block letters and a name beside it.

‘Jung…’ you whispered, rising back to your feet to find the light, ‘…Jaehyun.’

It took you a moment to place the name in your head, and when you did, you blurted out, ‘It’s you!’ You looked up at him. ‘You are Jung Jaehyun?!’

Your raised voice had startled him but he replied as even as before, pressing his lips together. ‘That’s correct,’ he said.

‘Get out,’ you gritted out.

‘W-What?’

His blank, ignorant eyes angered you even more.

‘Do you have any idea what you put my father through?’ you yelled, your voice echoing through the empty shop. ‘You have been making these insane demands for those godforsaken rare records ever since you stepped foot into our store!’

You could feel your face heating up, your heart pulsating inside your throat. It was a bad look— shouting at a customer, but you could not stop the words from flowing out.

‘Do you know how difficult it is for my father to find them?! It’s because of you that he had an accident and fractured his leg. He was out in the rain to get your stupid record!’

‘I…’ He stared at you, mouth agape and his face drained of colour. He had shrunk under your gaze somehow. ‘I… I had no idea.’

‘Of course, you didn’t!’ you spat back, the thin record shaking between your trembling fingers. ‘All you rich kids care about is your own convenience!’

‘That’s a harsh judgement to make,’ he returned, though not unkindly.

‘Harsh?’ You let out a mirthless laugh. You could not believe your own anger. The bulb over the counter flickered like a dull firework as the record player in the corner switched to the next song.

‘I’ll tell you what’s harsh. All his life, my father has worked tirelessly in this shop to raise me alone and I have done nothing but kept my nose buried in books so I could get into the best university in Seoul.’

You sighed, pressing your palm to your forehead to control the wretched tears that were pricking the corner of your eyes.

‘This was my last summer before college. My last chance to taste freedom and it’s ruined because of you! I am stuck in this shop, working all day. The boxes are heavy, the shelves are high. I don’t know any of the customers and all they really do is ask about my dad. I haven’t even eaten all day but I can’t complain to anyone without looking like an ungrateful brat!’

There was more you wanted to say but you had no breath left in you. Besides, you had embarrassed yourself enough and you couldn’t risk crying in front of him.

‘Just take this and leave.’ You held out the record to him.

His hand reached out immediately but stopped just centimetres from the edge.

‘Take it,’ you repeated, hiding the hitch in your voice. You did not rush his hesitation— there was no other customer in the shop waiting anyway. At last, when he closed his fingers over the record, you let the rest of your anger flow out of you with it.

‘What?’ you asked. He was still standing at the counter, staring at you. Maybe you had been too harsh but your anger didn’t allow any sympathy.

‘I can pay the hospital bill,’ he mumbled, clutching the record tightly in his hands.

‘There is no need,’ you replied. You could not let your pride take another hit after making a complete fool out of yourself in front of a complete stranger. ‘Just… don’t come back here again.’

You regretted saying it the moment the words left your lips.

When you had first learned of Jaehyun through your father, you had imagined a stoic, old man in his 50s, dressed in an unnecessarily expensive suit with a cigar in his hand and a flashy gold chain around his neck. He definitely seemed the kind with his incessant demands for particularly hard-to-find, expensive records. He liked nothing in the shop.

Pretentious bastard, you had called him.

But standing in front of you was a boy, who didn’t look much older than you. He was careful with the record while stowing it away in his bag, holding it delicately by the edges. Despite your outburst, there was a twinkle in his eyes, one that you recognized all too well— your father had it too whenever he got his hands on a new record.

In the wake of your receding anger, you saw clearly how frightened you had made him but he did not protest again. Without another word, he left, stopping only for a moment at the door but he did not speak whatever it was he wanted to say.

However, that was not the end. He came back— sooner than you had expected.

The next morning was busier than usual. You had to receive a new consignment and the truck that came with the boxes did as little as unload them right on the street in front of the store.

The sun was already up and you were sweating through your shirt by the time you had dragged the third carton inside amidst the sea of cursing passersby tripping over them.

Jaehyun found you sitting on the pavement, exhausted and on the verge of tears again. You had your head between your palms and was about to keel over from your own weight when he tapped you on your shoulder.

You looked up at him, squinting at his silhouette against the sun.

‘Didn’t I tell you not to come back here?’ you said, unable to keep the sharpness out of your tone.

He nodded, his expression unchanged. His eyes raked over the mess you had made on the street behind you.

‘What?’ This time you actually felt the tears fall out of your eyes but he didn’t startle. Instead, he sat down beside you.

‘What are you doing—’

He reached into his bag and produced a sandwich from it. It was homemade, you could tell. He peeled the wrapper back and offered it to you.

‘You haven’t eaten, have you?’ he said.

It was your turn to stare at him, wide-eyed. ‘I— don’t understand…’

‘I made you a sandwich.’

He had it so simply as if that was the most natural thing in the world. He had that air about him. You had mistaken it for confidence but Jaehyun was never too proud. He was just… him. You were dumbstruck and humbled at the same time. There were tears in your eyes again but you weren’t crying anymore.

You scoffed instead, amused. There were people still around you, cussing while stumbling through the maze of boxes; the sun was still shining— brighter and hotter; the drains smelled foul from last night’s rain and here was this boy, sitting on a hot pavement beside you with a godforsaken sandwich in his hand because you had told him last night that you hadn’t eaten anything all day. But the most absurd thing of all was when you actually took it from his hand and ate it, right there on the street.

He waited patiently beside you, not saying a word. He only had one sandwich too— you realized it after finishing it. He asked for the wrapper and shoved it in his bag, then got up and offered you his hand.

‘Let me help you,’ he said.

‘With the boxes?’ you asked.

‘In the shop,’ he replied.

His unwavering gaze was steady on you and he inhaled before speaking. ‘I can be your shop assistant. You do not have to pay me,’ he added before you could protest.

‘You want to work here?’

He nodded his head, his eager eyes searching your face for an answer you weren’t quite sure of yourself yet. For a moment, you saw it— behind the façade of his coolness— his guilt. You did not want to be pitied but he seemed more earnest than arrogant.

‘Do you not have a job?’ you asked.

‘I am in college.’

‘No summer internship?’ You could not help the derision that seeped into your words. And he picked up on it too but he did not budge.

‘It’s only my second year.’

‘I can’t pay you,’ you said in a final attempt to dissuade him.

‘I didn’t ask for money,’ he replied in the same breath.

‘Right… the shop opens at 10 and closes at 9 but you have to report an hour early to help me clean it. Will that be alright?’

‘Yes,’ he replied.

You could not tell your father about him. Jaehyun was a stranger and the shop never had any assistants before. But you needed the help, and he was willing even if it was for his own atonement.

‘So, am I hired?’ he asked.

Sighing, you took his hand and he pulled you up to your feet.

‘Get those cartons inside,’ you ordered your new assistant walking inside the store.

His reply came after a pause. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

That is how Jaehyun came to work at your store.

Every morning, he was there waiting in front of the shop before you arrived. His satchel over his shoulder and a homemade sandwich in his hand that he gave to you. He listened to what you said without question. When you told him to vacuum the floor, he did. On the mornings you told him to wipe the windows clean, he did. He steered clear of the records. Perhaps he was afraid he would break them. But he did not help you with dusting nor with arranging the shelves.

He was rich, you had realized that much but, in the shop, he acted no more than an errand boy. From carrying the boxes to special deliveries— he did them all.

During lunchtime, you took turns to eat in the backroom while the other manned the counter. In the evenings, he got you coffee from across the street and offered to tally the register while you rested.

You did not speak much, nor did you learn anything about each other that was not necessary, not until that night—

It was past 9 pm. You had closed the shop. Jaehyun was folding the cartons in the backroom and you were shelving the scattered records back in their places. You were almost done too, save for one record that was supposed to go on the top shelf of the closet in the back. You jumped up from your toes to fling it into the thin gap but not even its edge made it on to the shelf.

It's useless, you sighed to yourself after another failed attempt But just as you turned around to reach for the ladder, you bumped into his chest.

‘I’m sorry,’ he quickly straightened but did not move away. His eyes landed on the record in your hand then up at the open shelf.

‘Let me,’ he said and waited.

When you nodded, his fingers closed over the edge. He pulled it from your grip but kept standing in place. You stood there with him, confused.

‘Uh…’ The tip of his nose turned red. Perhaps the A/C was too cold, you thought at first but it was when he leaned forward that you realized why he was waiting.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, you cursed inward, holding your breath as you shrunk under him against the shelves. The blush on his face creeped up your cheeks, your breath drained out of you as he pressed further.

But Jaehyun braced himself against the edge and swiftly placed the record back onto the shelf, not even letting the hem of his shirt touch you. You had never realized how much taller he was than you, but then again, you had never bothered to look before.

You were looking then, up at him and back at his face when he found his footing again. He had an earphone in his right ear. You could hear the faint music leaking out of it in the sudden silence that had enveloped you both.

‘What are you listening to?’ you asked, surprised at the strangeness of your own voice.

He took the earphone out and held it out in front of you. ‘Want to listen?’

You nodded but he walked down the aisle and out of sight. Several seconds later, you heard the soft crinkling of a plastic film and the distinct sound of a record being pulled out of its case. You waited as he dropped the pin over it and the song reached you.

The Night We Met by Lord Huron.

Unexpectedly, he found you on the floor again as the notes of the first chorus filled the empty shop. He sat beside you, just as naturally as he had done the first time.

When the record player cracked to a halt, he turned to you. He did not speak, not out loud at least, but you could make out his words. So, when the next night came, you put on a new record in the player— With You by Harrison Storm.

The night after that, he replied and the one after that, you replied to his reply. Every night, after you flipped the sign in the window to closed, you both found a song for each other. To his Dandelion you replied with Sofia. For his Laufey, you had Lana Del Rey. For your Hozier, he had Artic Monkeys.

You sat beside each other on the same spot tucked between the shelves, listening to your conversation echo against the walls. It was easy to slip through that crack in time that you had opened and enter that small pocket of dimensionless space, save for the music.

He tapped his foot against the floor when you replied to his Home with Nancy Mulligan and danced on the night you had played Something Just Like This to his question, Mystery of Love.

It was strange how you knew nothing about Jaehyun yet you had never known anybody that intimately before.

But the summer was ending. In a blink of an eye, three months had passed. You had started receiving emails and thick letters from your college about orientation, dorm rooms, classes and credits. And two days ago, you had taken your father to the hospital to get his cast removed. He was going to come back to the store; you were going to leave for college and Jaehyun… you didn’t even know where he was going to go or whether you would see him again.

You fell asleep on the counter that night after closing the shop. It was humid outside and the A/C was on full blast. It was a restless sleep and you must have been shivering because you felt him drape his outer shirt over you. It smelled of him— warm and sweet, and you groaned, suddenly wanting more. You opened your eyes slowly. He was right there, his face in front of you but your gaze did not surprise him.

He reached out and brushed a strand of your hair away from your face. His touch was so light that you thought you were still dreaming, but his warm breath over your lips was evidence enough. His dazed eyes pulled you in and for a brief moment you thought he was going to lean in but when you blinked up from his lips again, he gulped and shook his head.

‘Uh…’ You straightened up too, his shirt falling to the floor behind you. You were sweating beneath your collar, a familiar flush on your face.

‘It’s your turn to pick a song,’ he mumbled. Perhaps he did not know what to say either.

‘R-Right…’

You leafed through the records to find your words. A conversation had ended last night so it was your turn to begin anew. But all you could really think of was Jaehyun… and you, and what if you hadn’t met him like you had. What if you had met him in college. He would have been a senior and you, like every other girl in his class, would have had a crush on him. Then, one day, after gathering all your courage, you would have asked him out. Perhaps he would have said yes, and instead of helping you around the shop, he would have done all those small things for you as your boyfriend.

You found him at your spot on the floor after putting the song on the record player— Those Eyes by New West.

Three minutes and forty seconds. It’s not long, not by any measure, but it was enough for you to tell him what you could not speak that night. You couldn’t recall how long you sat beside him, silently, after the song was over. You didn’t want to leave, not yet.

Then it struck you.

‘Do you want to go on a trip with me?’ you asked, keeping your eagerness at bay.

‘A trip?’

‘It’s just to get a record from the next town. Don’t say it,’ you warned, expecting a taunt about it but it never came. Instead, he smiled his dimpled smile and nodded his head.

‘We’ll have to take the bus,’ you told him, testing his resolve.

‘Alright.’ He nodded his head.

‘We will have to leave at 5 am.’

‘Okay.’

‘You might get bored,’ you told him.

He paused— the dimples on his cheeks deepened. ‘Then let’s get bored together.’

The morning was silent and still blue. You reached the bus stop before Jaehyun, who came a minute after. There was no sleep in his eyes, nor any hint of exhaustion. If anything, he looked as lively as the birds singing in the trees behind you.

‘Did you walk here?’ you asked.

‘It wasn’t that far,’ he replied and you realised you didn’t even know where he lived.

‘What’s that for?’ You pointed at the film camera that was hung around his neck.

‘Oh, this is…’ He looked down at the camera, running a hand through his hair. ‘In case I find something beautiful today.’

You and Jaehyun sat near the end of the bus— him by the aisle and you at the window seat. The ride was short, or so it felt (you fell asleep quickly into it and woke up when the sun was up and your destination was two stops away). If he was bored, he didn’t complain, nor did you feel him stir beside you.

‘Here,’ he said, taking out a wrapped sandwich and a small box of chocolate milk from his bag. ‘Why are you smiling?’

You took the sandwich from his hand and unwrapped it. ‘Why do you bring me a sandwich every day?’ You knew the answer already but you wanted him to say it.

There was a shy smile on his face and he fumbled before speaking. ‘That night…’ he started, ‘you said you hadn’t eaten all day.’

You were grateful that he turned his pointed gaze away from you because you could feel your face heating up. Pressing his lips together, he offered you the carton of milk with both hands.

‘I don’t like chocolate milk,’ you lied and pushed the box towards him. ‘Why don’t you finish this?’

He sighed, looking disappointed but took the box nonetheless.

In the soft light of the morning sun, even the town’s chaos seemed peaceful. Amidst the sudden swarm of running children, Jaehyun pulled you close by the elbow— you were about to bump into a child, who was scampering to find his way around your legs.

‘Do you know where to go?’ he asked.

‘Hm?’ It was hard to focus when he was that close to you.

‘The way to the shop…’ he repeated.

‘Right,’ you said, pulling away to conceal the beat of your thumping heart. ‘Straight down this road and right at the intersection.’

‘Alright then,’ he said, cheerily, ‘lead the way.’

The shops were only just waking up, delivery trucks lining the streets. In the distance, you could hear the ocean, calm that morning except for the occasional thrash of the waves which marked its presence.

‘Where do you live?’ you blurted out without thinking. The question must have caught him off-guard too. He jerked his head in your direction, pausing for a bit before answering.

‘My parents’ home is in our town,’ he said. ‘But I go to college in Seoul.’

‘Oh, which one?’ you asked. ‘My university is also in Seoul.’

‘I know,’ he replied but did not answer your question.

You could see the ocean in the distance now, merging into the sky beyond the intersection. The cars looked as if floating on water as they sped off in either direction.

‘I am sorry,’ you said.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘What for?’

‘For shouting at you that night.’

‘It’s alright.’ He shrugged. ‘If someone was making my father work that much, I would have been angry too.’

That was Jaehyun— easy and uncomplicated. He had managed to put your mind at ease so simply that he made you question your own apology. You nodded, not sure whether grateful or humbled but whatever it was, you knew it was real, the feeling anchoring itself inside your heart.

When you reached the store, he stayed outside. The store owner had already laid the record out for you. It was a rare 12-inch record wrapped in a gatefold sleeve. You replayed your father’s instructions in your head as you picked it up for inspection. You held it up to the sun for signs of scratches or scruffs along the fine grooves. There were none. The label was authentic and so were the markings at the back.

You lowered the record and your gaze fell on Jaehyun, standing outside the store window. He had his hand on his camera and his eyes on you. The sun must have been burning his back— he was standing so still but he did not move.

You jerked your chin up in question but he shook his head and turned away. You had seen that look before on him before, several times in the last three months. It was either in those early hours of morning when he would report to work or later during the slow evenings just before closing time. You had never questioned it. It wasn’t your place. But you had realized as much that it was always when he was staring at you.

‘Did you get it?’ Jaehyun asked once you were outside.

‘Hm,’ you replied, tapping your bag and sighed, ‘We still have the afternoon to kill before the evening bus.’

‘What do you want to do?’

‘There is a lighthouse here,’ you said. ‘Do you want to go see it?’

‘Yes,’ he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up.

You retraced your steps back to the intersection and turned left this time, towards the sea and to the lighthouse that stood down the stony promenade. It was painted in striking red with a set of staircases leading up to the cabin at the top. The sea behind it was a stark blue in contrast, endlessly spilling over the horizon.

You sat on the edge of the walkway, your feet dangling over the breakwater rocks below you. You leaned back on your palms and breathed a sigh. The clouds overhead had overshadowed the sun and the salty wind had turned cold.

‘What are you doing?’ you asked.

Jaehyun had torn a page from a notebook in his backpack and was folding it up into a shape.

‘Making a boat,’ he replied with a child-like giggle.

‘A boat?’ You laughed. ‘For the ocean?’

‘Mhm.’ He had his eyes set on the paper he had laid out beside him. ‘See?’ he chimed up, holding the paper boat up to your face. ‘But the question is whether it will reach the ocean or not.’

The rocks were blocking the water and the aim had to be perfect. You got up with him, taking a step back to witness what you could already tell would be a failed venture. He angled the front of the boat towards the water like a plane and shot it like a dart towards it only for it to land right in front of your feet.

‘Here, let me try,’ you said and picked it up. You held it from the bottom and aimed it further away. It flew a few inches but landed in a small crevice between the boulders below.

‘Jaehyun!’ You shrieked.

Jaehyun had practically flung himself down the pavement to the slippery rocks, his hands still holding onto the edge.

‘Careful…’

‘I am fine,’ he shouted back above the sound of the waves just a few metres away from him.

‘Just throw the boat from there,’ you shouted back as you saw him scrambling back up to you with the boat still in his hand.

‘What’s the fun in that?’

‘You are insane, you know that?’

He smiled and shrugged.

The boat was crumpled beyond hope. With a quiet sigh, Jaehyun tore another page and made a longer, sleeker shape this time only to fail again. You tried different angles, shapes, even places. At one point, Jaehyun even took a running start and hurled the boat forward, but it always fell short of the shoreline, sometimes by mere inches.

By afternoon, a few children returning from school had joined your futile pursuit. While you kept folding new boats, you could hear Jaehyun behind you— scolding them in an attempt to keep them away from the edge.

At last, exhausted, you both plopped down.

‘Should we just give up?’ you asked. The wind wasn’t in your favour and the clouds were shifting again. You saw his shoulders slump further with a sigh as his gaze fell over the pile of the failed paper boats.

‘You look disappointed,’ you remarked.

You wanted to laugh and perhaps you did too because his dejected frown quickly twisted into an offended scowl. Why was he so disappointed over a silly boat. That boy really was mad. And, maybe you were too, because before you even realized it, you were grabbing his hand and pulling him along.

‘Come on, get up,’ you said, picking out the very first boat he had made from the pile. ‘We are going to get your damn boat into the water.’

The paper had dried hard but it was not torn. If it landed correctly, it could still float. You straightened out its crumpled edges, making the perfect cone at the top to balance its weight and took the position at the edge.

‘Careful.’ He tightened his grip on your hand.

‘I’m fine,’ you told him. ‘Just hold on tightly me.’

He braced his foot against yours as you leaned forward with his support. His fingers stiffened and his other hand grasped your elbow tightly but he gave you enough room to safely incline yourself over the rocks.

‘A little more.’

It took him a second to loosen his hold to let you lean further over the edge. You were focused on the angle, your eyes fixed on the pattern of the crashing waves. You counted the seconds in between. One more. You had to wait for just one more.

‘Now,’ you said. Jaehyun let go of your hand. You shot the boat towards the receding tide in the fraction of a second before he yanked you back into his arms.

This time the ocean accepted it, pulling the little devil inwards with its current.

‘It’s in the water,’ he said.

You had expected more of a celebration after the hours you both had spent on it. But perhaps the feel of his pounding heart beneath your palm was evidence enough of his triumph and the smile on his face was your reward.

‘It’s in the water,’ you echoed, amused at your own joy.

The evening bus was right on schedule and you barely made it back to the stop in time. The sun was setting in the distance. It was time to go back. You glanced back, as if hoping you could catch a final glimpse of the boat that you’d set afloat in the ocean together but it was gone.

The bus was packed yet quieter somehow. Jaehyun pulled a juice box from his bag for you and as you sipped on the bitter taste of farewell, your eyes swelled with tears. This really was the end— the last night of the dream that the summer had pulled you into.

Tomorrow, Jaehyun would be gone.

And so, you held on, as tightly as you could. You closed your eyes and let the setting sun lull you into one final sleep. He was still there, and you weren’t going to let tomorrow ruin that.

‘It is your turn to pick the song tonight,’ you turned to him.

His dazed eyes focused on yours then took out the earphones from his bag and gave one of them to you. It took him a while to find the song on his phone.

The Night We Met by Lord Huron.

Why did he choose that song? It was the very first you had both listened to together. Perhaps that was his closure.

It was still early when you reached your town but the bus stop was empty save for the passengers who got down with you. Jaehyun had offered to walk you back to your house but you had refused.

You pointed to the camera around his neck. ‘You didn’t take any pictures today.’

He remained silent, but you could see his mind working behind his eyes. He was perfectly still but he seemed restless somehow and you couldn’t tell why the same impatience was seeping into you as well.

‘Didn’t find anything beautiful to click?’ You tried to break the tension his silence had caused. The street lamp above you flickered for a brief moment before settling down.

‘I did,’ he said at last, his voice not above a whisper but his smile had returned— the shy one. In the same breath, he raised the camera to his eyes and snapped a picture of you.

You are not sure how long you stood there, arrested in place by the flash but you were sure of one thing then— you had to ask him the question that had been poking at you since last night.

‘Will I see you again?’

His relaxed smile irked you. Why was he so calm?

Silently, he unhooked the chain that he wore around his neck. You had seen it before but as he pulled it away, you saw a pendant hanging at the end. It was a small silver record complete with its grooves.

He took your hand and placed it in your palm, closing your fingers over it. He leaned in close, as if whispering a secret to you.

‘On the day you climb a hundred steps, close your eyes, hold out this pendant in front of you and say my name. That’s when you’ll see me again.’

You looked up at him, confused, but he had already let go of your hand.

‘Promise me, you will remember this,’ he said. He was pulling away but his eager eyes were waiting for your answer. ‘Promise me.’

‘I will,’ you managed before he left.

That was two weeks ago and the last time you saw Jaehyun.

Nothing had moved around you— the wrought iron gates still stood; the people still walked by. The air was still warm and the college was still waiting.

Pulling the strap of your bag up your shoulder, you dragged your gaze back to your new life. One step after the other, you walked till you reached the base of a steep climb.

This entrance was reserved for freshmen. For a moment you wondered whether it was some sort of a prank set up by the seniors because in front of you was a seemingly endless set of steps stretching to a top you couldn’t even see from where you stood.

Just then, a boy next to you groaned. ‘Why are there a hundred steps here?’

You heard a breathy laugh next. ‘Funny you say this. It’s exactly a hundred steps here.’

A hundred steps…

You had started climbing the steps alongside them, your ears perked up at their conversation.

‘What do you mean?’ the first one asked.

‘It’s tradition,’ the other one replied, catching up to him. ‘Freshmen are supposed to climb a hundred steps on their first day of college for good luck.’

‘What did you just say?’ You suddenly turned to them, making them jump up.

The two boys exchanged a confused glance before looking back at you.

‘I am sorry,’ you quickly added, seeing their startled expression. ‘The steps…’

The shorter one nodded his head. ‘Yes, it’s a freshmen tradition—’

‘No,’ you cut him off. ‘Are there exactly hundred steps on this staircase?’

‘Y-Yes,’ he stammered.

Jaehyun’s words rushed to the front of your mind— on the day you climb a hundred steps…

It was the strangest thing that he had said that night. You had turned his words over in your head a thousand times, wondering if you had misheard him or missed something between the lines.

But here they were, quite literally, a hundred steps in front of you.

Heart hammering inside your chest, you quickly counted the steps you had already climbed— 24— before turning around and breaking into a run. You could feel the pendant burn inside your pocket as you rushed up the stairs, two at a time.

Your legs burned with the strain it took to push yourself up the incline, each step more demanding than the last.

This is ridiculous, you thought. This isn’t a fairytale. How would he even know about this.

But the rising questions melted away in the face of what was pulling you up.

Your breaths turned into short gasps, making your pounding heart thud against your ears, drowning out everything else. Your lungs ached for air, but you did not stop. If he was really waiting at the top, you didn’t want him to wait for too long.

One after the other, you kept going, slower when you couldn’t anymore, but not stopping until the top finally came into view.

Still panting, you reached for the pendant in your pocket, your other hand pressing against the stitch in your stomach. The silver record dangled from the chain as you held it out in front of you, the tiny grooves reflecting the sunlight.

You closed your eyes, and whispered his name like a prayer— it felt like magic anyway.

‘Jaehyun.’

The leaves above you rustled in the soft wind that had caught you. The birds were chirping too. There was a dull chatter somewhere in the distance and the soft curses of the students asking you to move. But you could not bring yourself to open your eyes yet.

God, this is so stupid. You were sure you looked deranged to others. The possibility crossed your mind too. What if he had meant his words to be something else. What if you had not paid close attention to what he had said. Ugh. Why couldn’t he have just said what he wanted to?!

But then you heard it— him.

‘What took you so long?’

You smiled first, then opened your eyes. He was standing right before you, his dimples etched on his cheeks. His hand closed over yours, pulling the pendant to himself, and you with it.

‘I am sorry, I am late,’ you said.

There he was, your senior in college, the dream within your grasp. Just like every other girl in his class must have, you had a crush on him too.

‘Do you…’ The words caught in your throat. The fantasy was easier than reality. But you had not just climbed a hundred steps to shy away.

‘What is it?’

Gathering all the courage in your heart, you asked, ‘Do you want to get a cup of coffee?’

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling like they did the first time you had seen him. His smile grew wider barely leaving space for the dimples on his cheeks. He wrapped his arm around your waist, hesitantly at first then bolder when you followed his lead. The tip of his nose had turned red but his bashful gaze remained fixed on you. He held your face in his hands and pressed his lips over yours ever so sweetly like he had been waiting to do so for an eternity.

‘I would love to,’ he whispered and kissed you again.

The End.

[nickistuffs]

Between the Lines

Pairing: Harry x Designer reader (curvy or plus size whatever you feel they should look like. This is my preference 😌)

Summary: An early birthday gift should help. 

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: None. Angst with slow burn. 💗

✨masterlist✨ read the rest of Harry x Designer Reader there ...

It was nearing the end of January, and you found yourself deep in thought about what gift you could give to someone who seemingly had it all.

You scratched your head, wracking your brain for ideas. What could you possibly get Harry—someone who could effortlessly buy whatever he wanted?

The answer hit you after some deliberation. As a craft-loving person, the best gift wasn’t something money could buy. Instead, you decided on something personal: an elaborate handmade birthday card.

The idea sparked your creativity as you sat down to brainstorm the design. Your phone suddenly beeped, interrupting your thoughts. Looking down at the screen, you froze for a second. It was the very person occupying your thoughts.

Harry ☺️: Hey! Are you busy tonight and want to have some dinner?

Your heart leapt, and you quickly replied, feeling excitement bubble up in your chest.

Y/N: Nope, not busy at all! So what are we eating? 😩

Harry ☺️: I was thinking pasta. 😗🍝

Y/N: Hmm, I’m craving rice. How about sushi? 😗🍣

Harry ☺️: Sure, I’ll find a place. Pick you up in 40 minutes.

Y/N: Okiee! I’ll get ready. See you! Be safe. 😌🙏🚙

Harry ☺️: Always 😮‍💨🫡

You tossed your phone aside and hurried to your closet. After some deliberation, you settled on the comfiest yet stylish outfit you could put together—a flowy top paired with your favourite jeans. For the finishing touch, you applied a berry-coloured lipstick that made you feel confident

You were just about to head out when your phone buzzed again. Seeing Harry’s name pop up, you smiled and answered.

"Hello! Just going down the stairs now. Wait a minute for me, please.”

"Hi! Sure, I’m parked by the door," Harry replied, his voice warm and familiar.

Hanging up, you rushed out the door. Your excitement must have been contagious because you didn’t even pause to greet the doorman as you hurried to Harry’s car.

Spotting his sleek black Range Rover, you knocked on the tinted window. Harry rolled it down with a cheeky grin.

"Spare change, sir? Please, I’m hungry and cannot afford even bread crumbs," you teased, feigning a pitiful cough to sell the act.

Harry chuckled, his laughter lighting up the cold evening air. Playing along, he gave you a mock-serious look.

"I’m so sorry, madame. No spare change here. Go somewhere else, pauper," he said, rolling the window back up dramatically.

Your mouth fell open in exaggerated shock. Opening the car door, you saw him laughing so hard he was almost in tears. You couldn’t help but join in, your loud laughter filling the space.

"Hello! I guess I missed you," you said sassily as you settled into the passenger seat and buckled your seatbelt.

"I missed you too," Harry replied softly, leaning over to give you a quick hug in the tight space.

"Okay, let’s go. I’m hungry. For SUUUSHHIII!" Harry suddenly screamed, making you burst into laughter again.

…

The restaurant was cozy, with warm wooden tones and a calming atmosphere. You admired the decor as you waited for your food, bopping your head to the music playing in the background.

"Look at the solid wood they used here," you said, gesturing to the tables. "And the lights! The pendants are gorgeous. I love the pattern they used on the accent wall."

Harry watched you, a soft smile spreading across his face. He was quiet for a moment, his mind racing. Is now the right time to ask her to be my girlfriend? he wondered.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the waiter arrived with your food.

You both broke your chopsticks simultaneously and reached for a piece of salmon nigiri.

"So, how was your day, Harry?" you asked, savouring the fresh flavour.

"It was fine. Full of the usual meetings… that kept me from you." Your cheeks warmed at his response.

"I miss you too," you said shyly. "Thanks for inviting me to dinner. This is delicious!" Harry hesitated, his fingers fiddling with his chopsticks.

"Uh, Y/N… Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what’s up?" you replied, taking another bite.

"Well, we’ve been having dinner for the past month or so…"

"Yeah?

"What do you think of our relationship at this point?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. "I guess… we’re good friends. You mean a lot to me, Harry."

"You mean a lot to me too, Y/N," he said softly, his gaze flicking to your lips.

But you didn’t seem to pick up on his deeper meaning. Harry smiled to himself, deciding to try again tomorrow.

… 

The next morning, both you and Harry found yourselves struggling. You still hadn’t come up with the perfect gift for him, and Harry still couldn’t figure out how to confess his feelings.

As you prepared for the day, your phone chimed.

Harry ☺️: Good morning. Want to ask if you’re busy for lunch today. 🌞😴

Y/N: Not at all. Want to get sandwiches at Feli’s place?

Harry ☺️: That’s what I was planning. See you there. 😎🥪☕️

As you ended the conversation, an idea suddenly struck you.

What if I made Harry something that wasn’t just a card? What if it was something more personal—something meaningful?

You grinned, a spark of excitement taking over.

…

By the time you arrived at Felice’s, Harry was already there, waiting at your usual table.

"Hey, you," he said with a warm smile. "Missed you all morning."

"It’s noon, Harry. We literally saw each other last night," you teased, sliding into the seat across from him.

"Well, it felt like a whole day already," he replied cheekily, his grin infectious.

As Felice brought over your drinks, Harry shifted in his chair, tapping his foot nervously under the table.

"So," he began, his voice hesitant, "I wanted to ask you something… about us."

You set your matcha latte down, a small crease forming between your brows as you looked at him. "What is it, Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath, his green eyes searching yours for courage. "You mean the world to me, Y/N. I was wondering if… if we could take things to the next level?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. For a fleeting moment, you thought you might have misunderstood him. But instead of jumping to conclusions, you took his statement the way you always had—through the lens of your friendship.

A warm smile spread across your face as you reached out to pat his hand.

"Of course we can, Harry," you said earnestly. "We’re best friends! I don’t think I’ve ever been closer to anyone."

Harry blinked, his hopeful expression faltering for a split second before he quickly recovered. "Right. Yeah… best friends," he said, his lips curling into a soft, bittersweet smile.

You leaned back in your chair, sipping your latte. "I’m so glad we had this talk. It’s nice to remind each other how much we mean, you know?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, his tone warm yet tinged with something unspoken. "It’s good to know where we stand."

But inside, Harry felt like screaming.

He cleared his throat, glancing at the time on his phone. "Actually, I just remembered—I have a call I need to take back home. You know, work stuff."

Your face fell slightly. "Oh, already? We barely had time to hang out."

"I know, I know," he said, standing up and putting on his coat. "I’ll make it up to you, promise."

You gave him a warm smile and stood up to hug him goodbye. "You better. Drive safe, okay?"

"Always," he murmured, his voice soft, as he stepped out the door.

…

As the door chimed shut, you settled back into your seat, finishing your latte. Felice appeared from behind the counter, wiping her hands on her apron, her expression a mix of frustration and disbelief.

"Y/N," she said firmly, crossing her arms as she leaned on the table and sat in the chair Harry previously sat on 

You looked up, startled. "What’s up, Feli?"

She sighed heavily, shaking her head. "You do know he’s trying to ask you out, right?"

You blinked, confused. "What? No, he’s not. Harry and I are just friends. He was just being sweet, as usual."

Felice groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Sweetheart, he wasn’t being sweet—he was confessing his feelings for you! That whole ‘take things to the next level’ thing? That wasn’t about friendship."

Your cheeks flushed, your mind replaying the conversation. "Wait… are you serious? He meant—oh my god."

"Yes, I’m serious!" Felice threw her hands in the air. "He’s been head over heels for you for weeks, and the poor man is probably banging his head on his steering wheel right now because you didn’t pick up on it."

You stared at her, stunned. "But he didn’t… I mean, I thought he just wanted to—oh no."

Felice softened, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Listen, Y/N. You’re amazing, but sometimes you’re a bit oblivious. Go home, think about it, and if you feel the same way, don’t make him wait too long. He’s trying, but he’s nervous, too."

You nodded slowly, feeling the weight of her words. "I had no idea," you murmured, biting your lip.

Felice smiled knowingly. "Now you do. And for the love of all that’s holy, don’t let him chicken out next time."

…

The walk back to your apartment felt longer than usual, your mind replaying every word Felice had said. Could Harry feel that way about you? 

The thought sent a mix of butterflies and panic fluttering through your chest.

Shaking your head, you unlocked your door and stepped inside, determined to distract yourself. 

"Focus," you muttered, setting your bag down on the table. There was still the matter of Harry’s birthday gift—a task that had been daunting enough before all this confusion.

You pulled out the materials you had bought earlier, laying them carefully on your worktable. Cardstock in soft pastels, fine-tipped pens, watercolours, and a small collection of pressed flowers you had saved from past projects.

Your plan: a Victorian puzzle purse. A charming, intricate craft that unfolded layer by layer to reveal hidden messages. It was old-fashioned, meaningful, and perfect for someone as thoughtful as Harry.

With a deep breath, you started sketching designs for the embellishments. At the corners of the puzzle, you drew delicate hearts, intertwining vines, and blooming flowers. Each stroke of the pen felt meditative, calming your nerves as you thought about what you wanted to say.

…

Once the decorative borders were complete, you dipped a fine brush into your watercolour palette, adding soft blush tones and a touch of gold to the design. 

As the paper dried, you pulled out your favourite pen, poised over the center of the puzzle where the first message would go.

"Dear Harry," you wrote, the words flowing easier than you expected.

"Happy Birthday to someone who brings light and laughter into my life every day. You’ve shown me what kindness, warmth, and passion look like, and I’m so grateful for every moment we’ve shared."

You hesitated, biting the end of your pen. Should you say more? Your mind wandered back to Felice’s words, and the possibility that Harry’s feelings for you went beyond friendship.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to be honest in your writing. Erasing your previous note.

You smiled to yourself, finishing the letter by signing your name. Folding the puzzle purse carefully, you tucked each corner in place, marvelling at how beautifully it had turned out.

Setting the finished craft on the desk, you leaned back in your chair and studied it, pride swelling in your chest. The puzzle purse was perfect—elegant, intricate, and heartfelt. You hoped Harry would love it as much as you had loved making it.

But as you stared at the delicate folds and hidden messages, Felice’s voice echoed in your mind again: "He’s trying to ask you out."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Could she be right?" you whispered to yourself.

For the first time, you allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like if Harry did feel the same way. His shy smiles, the way he always made time for you despite his busy schedule, the way his green eyes softened whenever he looked at you… it all started to fall into place.

Your cheeks heated as you realized how much you wanted it to be true.

Pushing the thought aside, you stood up and placed the puzzle purse carefully in an envelope, sealing it with a wax stamp for an extra touch of flair. "We’ll see," you murmured. "First, let’s get through his birthday."

Little did you know, Harry was sitting in his car outside your apartment, staring at his steering wheel and replaying your conversation at Felice’s. He was determined to figure out how to tell you his feelings, once and for all—before he lost his nerve.

The soft knock on your door startled you. You weren’t expecting anyone. As you peeked through the peephole, your breath caught. There he was, standing in the hallway, looking both nervous and determined, a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his hands.

You opened the door cautiously, surprised to see him. "Harry? What are you doing here?"

"Hey," he said, his voice soft but resolute. He held up the flowers with a sheepish smile. "These are for you."

Your eyes widened as you stared at the bouquet—an assortment of daisies, lavender, and tiny pink blooms, the kind of arrangement that felt as though it had been picked straight from a garden. "For me?"

He nodded, stepping inside at your invitation. You closed the door behind him, still cradling the flowers in your arms as if they were the most fragile thing in the world.

"Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "They’re beautiful."

Harry’s gaze softened as he watched you fuss over the flowers, your fingers delicately brushing the petals. He noticed the faint blush creeping up your cheeks, the way you avoided his eyes, and it only strengthened his resolve.

"Y/N," he began, his voice breaking the silence. You glanced up at him, your expression curious but cautious.

"I—" He faltered, running a hand through his curls. "I came here because… well, because I couldn’t wait anymore."

You tilted your head, confusion flickering across your face. "Wait for what?"

He let out a shaky breath, his hands fidgeting by his sides. "To tell you how I feel."

Your heart skipped a beat, the weight of his words sinking in. You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out.

"I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks now," he continued, his green eyes locking onto yours. "Every time we have dinner, or lunch, or even just coffee, I try to find the right moment, but it never feels right. And then today, when we were at Felice’s, I realized I can’t keep putting it off."

You stared at him, your mind racing. Could this really be happening?

"I like you, Y/N," he said, his voice steady despite the nervous tremor in his hands. "More than a friend should like a friend. And I don’t want to pretend I don’t anymore."

Your grip tightened slightly on the bouquet as you tried to process his words. Harry liked you? As more than a friend?

"But…" you stammered, your voice shaky. "I thought we were just—"

"Friends?" he finished for you, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. "I know. I’ve probably confused you by not saying anything sooner. But, Y/N, you mean so much to me. More than anyone ever has. And I just… I couldn’t hold it in anymore."

You blinked, your heart pounding in your chest. "I… I don’t know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything right now," he said quickly, his voice gentle. "I just needed you to know. Whatever you feel, I can handle it. I promise."

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the air thick with unspoken emotions. You glanced down at the bouquet in your arms, your thoughts swirling. Finally, you looked up at Harry, his hopeful green eyes searching yours.

"Harry, I…" You hesitated, biting your lip. Then, as if a lightbulb went off in your mind, you remembered the gift you had been working on for him all night.

Without a word, you turned and walked to your desk, leaving Harry momentarily confused. When you came back, you held a sealed envelope in your hands.

"This… this was supposed to be your birthday gift," you said softly, holding it out to him. "But I think maybe it’s better if you open it now."

Harry blinked, his brows knitting together as he carefully took the envelope from you. "Are you sure?"

You nodded, clasping your hands nervously as he broke the seal.

Harry studied the puzzle purse with awe, gently unfolding each layer of the intricately designed card. You had poured your heart into it, embellishing it with tiny hand-drawn flowers, delicate hearts, and vibrant splashes of color.

When he reached the center, he found the letter you had written. As he began to read, your pulse quickened.

"Dear Harry, I spent so much time trying to figure out what to give someone who seems to have everything.

But then I realized the only gift I could give you is the truth:

you’ve made my life brighter in ways I never thought possible. You inspire me, make me laugh, and make me feel seen. You mean so much to me, 

more than I think I’ve let on. And though it terrifies me to say it… I think I’m falling for you.

Happy birthday, Harry. You deserve all the happiness in the world."

sincerely yours, 

Y/N

When he looked up from the letter, his eyes were glistening with emotion. He smiled, a mixture of relief and joy spreading across his face.

"You…" He paused, shaking his head in disbelief. "You’re falling for me?"

You nodded shyly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t know how else to tell you. I thought it would be safer to put it in the card."

Harry let out a soft laugh, his shoulders relaxing as he set the card on the table. "Y/N, you’re incredible, you know that?"

You looked at him, your brows furrowing slightly. "I’m… incredible?"

"Yes," he said firmly, stepping closer. "And for the record, I’ve been falling for you too—hard. I’ve just been too much of a coward to say it outright."

Your heart swelled at his words, and before you could overthink it, you reached out and took his hand.

"So… what now?" you asked, a nervous smile tugging at your lips.

Harry grinned, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. "Now, I make this official. Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?"

Your breath hitched, and you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. "Yes, Harry. I’d like that."

Relief and happiness washed over Harry as he pulled you into a warm embrace, the wildflowers now forgotten on the table. 

You rested your head on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

"I guess I don’t have to wait until my birthday for the best gift of all," Harry murmured, his voice low and full of affection.

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your eyes shining. "And what’s that?"

"You," he said simply, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

… In the spirit of Harry's 31st Birthday. Here is my gift to the fandom. 💗💗💗

[fungateshortcakes]

Personal attention ASMR

Don't ask questions just run with it

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Summary: You use Logan as your ASMR model

Wordcount: 2.4k (this was supposed to be a drabble what happened)

Warnings/tags: none, english is not my first language, fluff, established relationship, reader is gender neutral but is described to wear acrylic nails, sharp or dull challenge, hair brushing, face tracing, nail tapping, face masks, implied that reader wifes Logan up in the future lol

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The cozy glow of a string of fairylights illuminated Logan as he sat in his armchair, a beer in hand, watching you fiddle with your - what did you call it? - ASMR setup? You struggled to get your camera into the right position on your tripod without knocking off the little hypersensitive microphones that extended from each side.

Logan sat there with an amused smile, but as his eyes wandered over the coffee table that was packed with various tools he couldn't name, facemasks that ran too pink and glittery for his liking- in that moment he thought, why the hell had he agreed to this? Your damned puppy eyes and sweet kisses, that's why.

"You're seriously gon' make me do this?" he asked you, standing up from his seat to stretch. "You agreed to it" you pouted before laughing. "Do I have to let you sign something next time?"

Logan rolled his eyes playfully at your words, shaking his head and lifting his hands dismissively "Nah, I'm kiddin'. I'll do it. But just cause it's you" he replied, helping you connect everything. You gave his rugged cheek a biiig kiss "You're the best boyfriend ever"

Logan chuckled and gave you back some sloppy, over the top kisses to your own cheeks until you were grossed out giggling. "I won't take the blame if your lil' fans don't like it though"

You shook your head. "I am sure they will love it. And you have nothing to worry about except being relaxed and looking pretty. I'll handle the rest" you teased him, smoothing out the thick neutral grey coloured blanket on your carpet in front of the couch, adding a matching pillow for Logan to rest his head on.

He shimmied into position on the ground so he looked directly into the camera hanging over his face. You made sure that his face was entirely in frame, fiddling with the contrast controls of the camera. The warm light from the fireplace contoured the left side of his face while the cold fairylights illuminated the right side of it, creating a interesting and aesthetical pleasing scene. This was gonna be great!

After everything was tuned to perfection, you knelt down over Logans head so you had all the access to his face that you needed. You had even gotten new acrylic nails for the occasion!

You rubbed your hands together "So, one of the most important rules of ASMR is no talking, only whispering. Okay? We want the ambience to be nice and peaceful" you explained excitedly to him. You knew that Logan knew what he was getting into - somewhat. The concept of ASMR wasn't too foreign to him. That comes with having a better half that does ASMR content for a living, but you still wanted to make sure.

Logan scoffed, snorting "Right. Peaceful. That's me"

You slapped his chest, shooting him a mocking glare in the process. "Shush now. I want to start" Logan blew a rasberry at you but quickly settled down after you switched on the camera for recording.

You showed your freshly manicured nails into the camera, tapping the crisp acrylic before slightly scraping them over Logans face "Welcome to another personal attention ASMR. My model for today is my beautiful boyfriend. He was kind enough to be of assistance" you whispered into the microphones, your voice soft and quiet.

Logan huffed at your words, only a small smile playing at his lips but he chose to not say anything and let you work. "We will be starting by tracing his face." you cooed gently, tapping the tips of your nails against his cheek with your left hand while your right hand mimicked the movements off-screen on a wooden board "Oh yeah, forgot to mention, he is a lumberjack, so he is more wood than man" you giggled into the mic, making Logans eyes roll at the corniness. But he couldn't deny that it felt nice.

You drew tingly patterns on his face, each sounding like scratching across crisp wood. You poked three dots under his eyes, drew an x on his forhead over and over again, traced over his frownlines and trailed your nail over his face in a continous line until you gently proded at his lips, making it sound like you knocked on them. He gave the tip of your nail a brief kiss, making you sigh out a smile into the mic. You tapped his face a few more times until you decided to switch up the trigger.

"Next, we will be playing a very popular little game" you spoke in a shushed tone, creating a bit of anticipation before you showed the camera two tools. One was a make-up brush, the other a kind of metal dermaroller with rotating spikes. You brought the tools to Logans head after you parted his hair to your liking "I'm going to touch your scalp with different textures. One is dull-" you started to explain, dragging the soft bristles of your brush over his head "-and the other one is going to be sharp like this" you ended, dragging the spiky roller across. "You feel the difference?" Logan nodded at your question, a low grumble sounding in the back of his throat.

"Good. I want you to tell me which one you feel, sharp or dull. Close your eyes for me, baby" you cooed quitely, humming as Logan did as he was told.

You angled his head a bit to have easier access, taking your time to part his hair neatly in a different location than before until you were ready to start. You stippled the brush against his head, waiting for an answer. "Dull" he whispered and for a second, you felt your chest tighten with joy. He was actually playing along and taking this seriously, it warmed your heart. When you said he was the best boyfriend, you meant it.

You switched the tool, drawing a line with the spike roller from the back all the way in front to his hairline, picking it up again and waiting for his reaction. "Sharp" he murmured and wow, his voice was very relaxing like this. You always found his voice soothing, but his deep whispers were another level. "Very good" you praised and a little proud smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. You decided to use the sharp roller again, letting it hit his skin only shortly before stopping. "Sharp" he replied, enjoying the way the tool made strong tingles errupt from the very top of his head all the way down his back. This was nice.

Your fingers raked through his hair, choosing another part of his head to part. You swiped the tip of your brush over him next, nodding as he whispered "Dull" to you in a hushed voice. You took your time to admire his face for a moment. It wasn’t tense nor taught, the usual frown line between his brows smoothed out and barely visible.

Another stipple of your brush "Dull", another turn of your roller "Sharp".

If you asked Logan, you could do this forever. He would prefer to be completely silent, though. And for you to only use the spiky tool.

To tease him a bit, you used both the brush and the dermaroller at the same time, softly giggling at the way his nose scrunched a bit in confusion. "Come again?" he whispered, a gruffness in his tone. You did, watching him lose faith in himself. As you repeated it the third time, he cracked open an eye and tried to keep his reaction as quiet as he could as to not mess up the video "That ain't fair, sugar" he said a little louder than intended, making you softly giggle into the microphone.

You put your stuff away, ready to move onto the next trigger. Your nails found his coarse beard, scratching along the thick mutton chops in circles while you explained what you were going to do next. "Now that we have messed up his hair quite a bit, I think it’s time for a bit of hair brushing" you whispered, cooing at the way Logan purred almost like a cat as you played with his beard. You kept that in mind for next time.

You sat back and got a neat brush, showing it off to the camera, tapping your nails against the plastic backside a little, before letting your fingers glide over the bristles slowly, softly whispering "bruushhh, bruushhh" over and over again.

When you started, Logan fought the urge to roll his eyes into the back of his head. Your slow strokes just hit the spot, tingles and shivers exploding on his head. If the little spike tool felt like heaven already, then this was absolute nirvana. Now this was something you could do for the rest of his life.

Your gentle whispers of brushing fell on deaf ears as Logan tried not to hum at the feeling of the bristles scratching over his scalp. You combed through his whole head of hair multiple times, changing out the brushes and combs from time to time to not make it boring for the viewers and to give Logan different sensations.

When you were done, you settled on scratching his scalp with your nails instead, both hands under his head, massaging in deep circles. "Oh wow" Logan couldn’t help but murmur, closing his eyes for a second to stop them from trying to roll back. You could practically see the shudder that went through him at that, his mouth slightly agape.

As you stopped to get your next pieces of equipment, Logans eyes fluttered open, darting around as if he had just randomly woken up in the middle of nowhere, completely disoriented. It was cute.

"Last but not least, I have some face masks prepared for him." you muttered, presenting the camera a glittery, foaming face mask, swirling a brush through the bowl it was in, the soft crackling of the bubbles being picked up by the mic.

"But first, we will lightly prep his skin. Close your eyes for me, love" you whispered to Logan who gladly let his eyes flutter shut. You used a clear face primer, putting it on his face in little droplets all over before moving to get your sparkly water globes. You turned the globes in your hand, a satisfying glug glug glug emitting from them, iridescent glitter swirling inside. You brought them together at the bottom ever so gently as to not make them break over Logans face, a sound you either loved or hated coming from them as they bounced off of each other quickly.

Then you let the round, bulbous sides glide over Logans face to spread the primer and work it into his skin. At first he slightly jumped from the sudden coldness, but it didn’t take long for him to ease into it as the bulbs warmed up.

You were swiping the smooth globes over his skin effortlessly, removing the puffiness from under his eyes, massaging his cheeks in circular motions and easing any kind of headache as you glid over his forhead and temples. He could really really get used to this.

Like with everything else, you ended this treatment far too soon for his liking. And if he didn't know any better, he would actually start to protest.

The next thing he knew, he felt something cold and gel-like being pressed to his under eyes. Nurishing eye patches - sparkling, probably. Then he heard you rub your hands together, before your palms landed on his cheeks. The foam on your hands crackled loudly at the contact, the bubbles bursting and popping on his skin. You massaged it in, cooeing and making sounds with your mouth. His head lolled a little, too relaxed and sleepy for his own good. But he wasn't about to fall asleep, nuh uh, he wouldn’t fall asleep because of some ASMR stuff.

By the time your hands were back on his scalp to let the foam mask really sink in before washing it off, he was gone. Out like a light

At first, you hadn't even noticed, mindlessly scratching and massaging his head thoroughly with your nails and admiring his relaxed face, thinking about how lucky you were to have him. You had boyfriends before that laughed in your face when you asked them to be part of a video. When they realised you weren't joking, they got mad and lashed out, telling you that not even over their dead body would they sit there like a dumbass and have you whispering weird bulshit in their ear. You were disappointed, a simple no would have done it. But they were angry like it was something deeply personal. Not Logan though, he was a sweetheart.

He acted like he didn't want to, that he was only doing this because you batted your eyelashes at him, but deep down you knew he liked doing these things for you, seeing you so happy and excited was enough. If he was truly against it, he wouldn’t be in this position right now.

You liked to think he was secretly actually enjoying this - imagine your face as you realised he had fallen dead asleep, softly snoring as you wiped the foam mask off his face ever so gently as to not wake him up. "He has fallen asleep, guys" you whispered into the mic, the giddy smile could be heard from your voice even though your face wasn’t visible. You couldn't believe it. Your big, beefy teddy bear of a boyfriend fell asleep because of a little pampering.

You cooed softly, rubbing the last oil treatment onto his skin, being extra careful and gentle with him. "If you liked this video, leave a like, consider following my channel and leave a comment if you want to see more boyfriend content" you said in a hushed voice, coddling the face of your sleeping boyfriend. "See you next time, lovelies!" you whispered, booping Logans nose before switching off the camera.

Your boyfriend continued to snooze even after that, laying there unbothered with a glowy face. And it that moment you knew, maybe it was time. Just maybe, a few videos later, you could welcome your fans to another ASMR video with your husband.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

This idea came to me so randomly, i hope you guys still like it. Let me know in the comments please and leave a like, reblog if you want <3 I love to see it🎀

[artsninspo]

006 | Richmond Inc.

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

「 ✦ aaron pierre & characters library ✦ 」

⇚ 005

♠ summary: Thrust into leadership, Lorence battles pressure, secrecy, and an enigmatic boss—until his unexpected attentiveness causes things to heat up more than expected ☕.

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Lorence Cole (Black Fem OC)

♠ word-count: ~2.6K

⌖ - Richmond Inc. HQ

The new demands of my position are both a gift and a curse as I’m required to expand my knowledge base and think as a leader. There’s an element of freedom that I've been robbed of in this new position. There’s no time for fresh ideas and innovation in the same way there's no freedom to make mistakes. There’s no one to ask to review the work I have - I'm the final step in the pecking order before the other’s at my level look and ultimately Richmond’s eyes scan over it. I’d be lying if I said the thought doesn’t unnerve me. Dissatisfaction on his face and the scolding that will undoubtedly follow is a nagging inevitability. I’ve sat through so many briefings that I miss doing the work. This week has been an overwhelming barrage of discourse, planning and preparation. We’ve gone over logistics and transportation which is my specialty. Monaco is a logistical and transportation nightmare but I’ve taken all the necessary notes to make sure everything goes off without a hitch. Which includes sending one of my best agents there in person to scope out the scene and get the necessary measurements and blueprints. It’s my first major assignment and with my budget sky’s the limit. Consulting for the organization responsible for the formula one race's security is not something I ever considered in the realm of possibility; so I make the most of it. I add to my list of tasks and lock the documents before going over my new operating budgets. I still have money to spend but until my best guy is back I can’t be sure where the resources will be best allocated. I’m researching local charities in the area when Richmond appears in the doorway. It’s his first time stopping by all week and I can’t say I’ve missed the light eyed giant. 

“Sir” I stand.

“Cole, I’ve received preliminary drafts from all the other teams. Is there something you require assistance with?” He asks, leaning in the doorway. He’s in a white knitted sweater today looking too casual for a man like him. 

“I thought we had another week” I respond, disregarding how his arms fill out the otherwise cuddly, cozy ensemble, transforming it into something different altogether.

“I like to look over things by the project’s midpoint,” he explains, folding his arms.

“Well, I’m new and I didn’t know that” I swallow daring to meet his eyes.

“We can go over what you have for now,” Richmond says entering my office. I straighten, hating his presence and proximity. With Richmond it isn't walking on eggshells, it's like walking on glass barefoot. I stand walking over to the table and pressing the projector button. I unencrypted my files and show him what I’ve been working on. He watches attentively, his eyes scanning through the details projected in front of him.

“They’re color coded by threat level” he says perceptively interpreting the markings I have on the 3D map model of the area the races will take place in. 

“Yeah, it determines what will work in terms of an emergency exits.” I state, explaining my process.

“So you don’t only look at routes?” He asks.

“No, when I develop my plans I consider routes, danger, closures, alternate routes and transportation that is as discreet as possible while being resilient and agile” I explain and he nods zooming in on my tablet.

“You’re looking for places to land helicopters? Possible counter sniper positions.” He says interpreting my work in seconds. Impressive isn’t the word. Nothing is explicitly stated there’s just circles, dots, x’s and stars in a variety of colours.

“Yeah” I nod and he looks from the tablet back to me, with a ghost of a smirk on his lips, only for it to be gone as soon as it appears.

“You’re doing Jameson work for him.” He comments.

“I understand why our teams are separate but I think all aspects should inform each other” I swallow and his expression hardens.

“That’s not your job. It’s to take direction. No one should be fully informed of the other's actions in case of leaks. Your team needs to be agile. Keep your work to yourself” he orders going back to his military facade.

“With all the testing you still don’t trust us?” I ask and he scowls. His jaw sets before clicking as he clenches  it. 

“It’s not about trust. It’s about what a person gives away during torture. How can I protect my team from that? The rules are in place for a reason. Adhere to them” he orders again but his eyes are more sensitive. If I were a psychiatrist I could diagnose his paranoia and mood swings but as a civilian I table my judgement.

“The non patronizing way to say that is;  follow protocol Cole” I quip before he gets carried away and it ends poorly.

“I don’t care if you don’t like my delivery. At least you’ll be alive not to like it” he comments standing. I can't help the sharp look I send his way. If he were anyone else I wouldn’t put up with it. “Good work” he says finally but somehow the praise falls flat.

“Have you lost a lot of people?” I ask and the tension in his shoulders answers the question in an instant. His expression sobers. 

“I’ve seen a lot of death,” he nods. I look him over before nodding. It at least explains his incessant over preparation and commitment to structure, secrecy and preventative measures.

“I’m sorry,” seems the only appropriate response.

“You won’t have to be if you follow protocol. Your safety equipment needs to be fitted before we go wheels up, go see Cassandra. I’m scheduling you for some extra hand to hand” he says adding more to my plate.

“I don’t have time for extra hand to hand, I’m behind” I tell him pointing to the projections.

“No you’re not” he swallows. “You’ll fry your brain if you continue staring at blueprints. Movement will serve you more than sitting at your desk” he says parroting what I’ve heard from Jameson. I wonder if it's advice Jameson has commandeered from the Boss.

“Okay” I concede. RIchmond seems surprised by my concession but he nods, slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers. Cassandra appears in the doorway and I let out a relieved breath.

“I hope you’re being nice.” she says, looking him over. Richmond doesn’t dignify her with a response. “Are you finished or can I steal Cole - her safety second skins are in” Cassandra says.

“We’re done and I have ten minutes” he says looking at his watch. I go along with them walking to his office suite instead of asking questions. Two suits wait in a box in his conference room. One is my perfect nude shade, it nearly looks like mesh but it's made of something stronger. It’s fully opaque and when I hold it up I frown wondering what in the T’Challa Black Panther, Richmond has paid for me to wear.

I raise a brow. “What’s this for?” 

“Protection, no burns, cuts or bullets can pierce it. A safety precaution” Cassandra responds.

“Try it on,” Richmond says, stepping out of the room.

“Please!” Cassandra scowls at him as she closes the door. I hold it up again and wonder what else money can buy. I head into the ensuite and I undress quickly. I step into the unitard that fits almost like a second skin. I manage the nearly invisible zipper at my side and look in the mirror. I look remarkably naked and tense up when I see shaded contouring that could pass for real hips and ass.

“Need help?” I hear Cassandra ask from outside.

“Uhh?” I respond and she giggles.

“That’s exactly how I felt - can we come in?” she asks.

“I guess” I responded, not quite sure. I remind myself I’m not naked as I leave the bathroom and re-enter the conference room as they come in. Cassandra’s eyes scan me.

“Toes are wonky” she says to Richmond whose eyes are glued to my body. 

“The suit is wonky” he comments with eyes on my breasts. “May I touch you?” he asks without making eye contact.

“Ok” I respond unsure if no is even an option and he stands behind me pulling the material taut until I can feel it on my chest and stomach like a corset. When I look behind he hes standing with a handful of the suit.

“That’s how it should fit” he tells Cassandra, sparing a look her way. The suit feels completely different with this kind of tension. He grapes lower, gathering the same amount of fabric in the small of my back. I feel like a doll in his care as he manhandles the suit. It’s oddly erotic, or maybe it’s been too long since a man has had his hands on me. He goes to do the same around my hips but there’s no stretch left. 

“Can you see if there’s any give?” he asks as if he hasn't already probably made at least five HR violations. I oblige finding some give.

“Hold it like that” Richmond demands and I wonder if he’s this bossy in bed. Girl, get your head out of the gutter!

“Cassandra test its resistance” he says and Cassandra comes over with some sort of scanner gun reading all over my body noting weak points with a red marker as well as what needs to be removed. 

“The suit has to fit like a glove, it’s most effective when the fibres are extended to their limit they interlock creating … well armour.” she explains.

“What if I have to pee?” I ask being practical.

“You’ll get a zipper once everything else fits seamlessly” Cassandra explains. It’s another level of overkill.

“Does everyone wear these?” I ask.

“They aren't required for smaller scale events, I always wear mine for the big ones” she explains. Richmond is still staring at me and it makes me feel naked, the proximity, the physical toughness, the attention. My body hums like a starving stomach craving sustenance. I’m gonna need to see a therapist for sure, I think looking away from him and back to Cassandra who clears her throat.

“Mr. Richmond, you have a call in two” she says to him and he nods, peeling his eyes from my ass. 

“Ensure it fits perfectly...Please” He says, taking one last look at me. He looks at Cassandra who nods with a smirk on her lips before leaving.

“I’m gonna go change” I announce heading into the restroom. When I get out I hand her the suit.

“Is he always so hands on?” I ask, a little unnerved.

“Hands on… he was with me but he was a lot less attentive and there was a lot more back and forth bickering until he pulled it so tight I couldn't breathe comfortably.” she discloses amused.

“I’m pretty sure that’s wrong of him” I remark.

“Terry’s like family - he’d never actually hurt me and lord knows he could” she huffs sitting on the conference table. Her disposition makes me think of them like siblings opposed to coworkers. The most toxic workplaces have the ‘family titles’ it's definitely a red flag.

“So how was your first week?’ she beams crossing her legs but my mind is on how it felt to be constricted in his hold and hugged by the suit.

“I’ve only considered quitting right now” I smile and she laughs.

“I came to your office because I was sure there was going to be fireworks. Terry was too but with how at ease he was I'd say you’re doing amazing on your first assignment. What was his feedback? I can help you decode its meaning to stay on his good side.” she smiles and I’m excited until I realize there was none.

“He just told me to stick to the protocol and that I did a good job. Oh and he prescribed extra hand to hand” I explain and her eyes light. Her smile widens like a Cheshire cat and she shakes her head.

“He’s setting me up to fail isn't he?” I ask, afraid of some humiliation ritual test.

Cassandra shakes her head. “No Lorence, it means you're keeping him up at night. He must think you're one of the best”

“I don’t copy.” I confess.

“The best agents are all the same Lorence and they never leave their people behind when shit hits the fan. He doesn't think you’ll be tripped up by the plans so he’s preparing you for the people.” she explains.

“Do I have anyone but him to fear?” I ask.

“No, that’s how I know you’re keeping him up. The guys that we’d need to fear see us as menu options - they don't know we’re trained to kick their ass and so they never have security with them. They’re easy to outsmart before things get ‘hand to hand’” Cassandra explains and it’s consistent with training. I get a reverie of the intensity in Richmonds eyes as he held the extra fabric of my suit taut, again. I never put much stock in her words before.

“I think you're wrong. Richmond doesnt look like he needs help attracting women. I’m sure you’ve had to shoo away your fare share.” I respond.

“Are you kidding?! He’s a work-a-holic. I've only seen him flirt for better access. His indiscretions are kept from me if they exist” she comments. “Come on, let's go shopping for after hours  in Monaco - I have a few party invites with an open plus one slot.” she winks and it sounds like a good way to relax and enjoy the rest of the day. Retail therapy is still therapy after all.

Cassandra and I end up in the heart of the city in stores with names that English speakers need tutorials to pronounce. Cassandra can sell salt to a snail because she convinces me to indulge in whims that are unfamiliar and then she swipes the company card stating outfits while on vacation are somehow a business expense. Paranoia makes me set aside the amounts in case it’s some test or something the Boss intends to scream at me for later. But for the rest of the night from shopping all the way to my night routine I’m a little uneasy. Terry Richmond’s ability to rattle me is unmatched. Whether in anger or cloaked kindness. The intensity of his expression is imprinted in my mind. 

I lay awake in bed slightly amused by the irony of Cassandra’s words. At least if they’re true I’m keeping him from sleeping too. It feels like some consolation for all he’s put me through. Maybe my haywire feelings are the result of something akin to Stockholm syndrome. The result of that stupid test. His gaze comes back to me again and the attention held within them. My body heats as recognition clicks into place, its reaction starts to make sense. After years of feeling unnerved and unsure I’ve read the first real emotions from him. There was real sincerity in his eyes. No resentment or animosity. Maybe hints of more complicated emotions but at its core it seemed to be pure preoccupation with my safety.

My body seems to settle at my brain's recognition of the day's events. The anxious energy leaves my body and I settle when it becomes clear to me that before all else my boss wants me to be okay. Before I take my last conscious thought, I promise to move forward with Richmond with that at the forefront of my brain.

authors note: what are you doing if you're Lorence and the boss gets all close and touchy feely? Fight, freeze, call HR - I have to know! Let me know what you think in a comment or reblog 🖤 if you enjoyed things heating up dont forget to comment, reblog and like!

007 ⇛

click here to ✮ join taglist ✮ and be notified when new updates drop.

[onlyhereforthestories]

Gift Guessing Games (Ingrid Engen x Reader)

Day 11. I really love Ingrid but shes so sweet I feel the cute ones like this are best suited for writing for her. So enjoy!

“Alright, let’s do this,” Ingrid declared, tugging her bobble hat snugly over her ears as she adjusted her scarf. The two of you stood at the entrance of the bustling shopping centre, a cold breeze whipping at your bodies that was the only positive about going inside. She turned to you, her expression a mix of determination and something a little more fun. “I need your help, but there’s a catch. Well not really a catch but you’ll get what I mean in a second.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious already. “Oh? What’s the catch? Is this some impossible mission?”

She smirked, leaning in slightly. “It’s for my secret Santa gift… but I’m not telling you who I got. You’ll have to guess.”

You laughed, shoving your hands into your coat pockets. “So, I’m helping you shop but I’m being left completely in the dark? That’s okay but you can’t blame me if we end up with something ridiculous.”

Ingrid grinned and grabbed your hand, tugging you inside where the warmth of the mall wrapped around you like a cozy blanket. Twinkling fairy lights adorned every storefront, garlands hung over doorways, and a giant Christmas tree stood proudly in the centre, its ornaments shimmering under the glow of the many little bulbs lighting up the tree. Holiday music drifted through the air, creating a welcome distraction from the many people who looked like they were panicking or just not liking the sheer amount of people around them.

“Alright, first question,” you said, as the two of you strolled into the first shop. “Are they someone who’s hard to shop for? Like do we actually have an impossible task anyway, even without me being in the dark.”

Ingrid shrugged, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. This was going to be a long shopping trip. “Depends on who’s shopping. I have faith in us.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not giving me much here, but okay. Let’s start with something practical but fun. A mug, maybe? Like one of these…” You grabbed a novelty mug from the shelf, reading it aloud. “‘Captain in Charge… of Coffee Breaks.’ It’s perfect if your person drinks coffee. Or if they are, I don’t know, a team captain?” Your guess was the subtlest you could come up with and you were pretty proud of yourself.

Ingrid snorted, the corners of her mouth twitching. “Not bad. But keep guessing.”

You watched her carefully, trying to catch any flicker of a reaction, but she gave nothing away. So not Alexia, one down god knows how many more to go. “Damn it okay,” you said, placing the mug back. “Next question. Are they a more serious person or are they a big goof?”

“Both,” Ingrid said immediately, moving toward a shelf of scented candles and giving one an experimental sniff. “They can be super focused, but they also have a good sense of humour.”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully as you followed her, a gesture that had Ingrid snickering under her breath at you. “Serious but funny. Hmm. What about someone who’s always playing music? Do they love gadgets?” You wandered over to a display of retro-style record players. “This is cute. It’s small, quirky, and perfect for someone who likes to mess around with genres and artists.”

Ingrid chuckled, giving the tiny record player a once-over. “That’s actually a good idea. I really like that as a gift, but nope. That won’t work for my Secret Santa.”

“Okay, now you’re just enjoying this,” you said, narrowing your eyes at her. You had a feeling she had a present in mind already but just wanted to make you come up with things and guesses for her teammates.

She grinned, unapologetic. “Maybe. Keep going.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said with an exaggerated sigh. “Do they like organizing things? Like are they the type to have their entire life planned out in a colour-coded spreadsheet?”

Ingrid laughed, shaking her head. “I think everyone on the team could use a little more organization, but that’s not a hint.”

You spotted a leather-bound planner with gold accents on a nearby display and held it up. “This is classy. Even if they’re not the organized type, it could be aspirational. Maybe push them to be a little more proactive in their organizational skills.”

Ingrid tilted her head, considering it. “You’re really good at this. But still no.”

You groaned, dramatically throwing your head back. “Ingrid! You’re killing me. At least tell me if they’re someone you’re close to.” You grabbed her hand as you strolled around the next shop.

Her smile softened, and she gave a little shrug, squeezing your hand slightly in the process. “I mean we’re all close. But yeah, this person’s special.”

You caught the flicker of affection in her voice and grinned. “Special, huh? So, we’re talking someone who looks up to you, maybe? Someone who thinks you’re the coolest person on the planet?” you made sure she could hear the teasing tone of your voice, she had given you a bit too big of a clue and you now knew who it was.

Ingrid gave you a sideways glance, her smile turning sheepish. “I’m not saying anything.”

You clapped your hands together. “It’s Jana, isn’t it? Oh, I’ve got this. Jewellery. Something simple but meaningful. Like… oh!” You pointed toward a display case filled with delicate silver bracelets, each engraved with a small charm bearing an inspirational word. “‘Fearless.’ That’s perfect. She’s fearless on the pitch, right? And it’s something she can wear every day.”

Ingrid’s silence was telling. She reached for the bracelet, her fingers brushing over the charm as a soft smile spread across her face. “Okay, okay. You win. It’s Jana. And this… babe this is perfect.”

You beamed, pleased with yourself. “I knew it. But for the record, I was onto you from the start.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her expression made your heart swell. “Sure you were.” She wrapped her hands around your neck and pulled you a little closer as she spoke. “And I’m sure you played along with my game just for me huh?”

You nodded your head enthusiastically before standing on your toes to press a gentle kiss to the woman’s lips. Letting your hand run into her back pocket where you pulled out her purse. “Time to pay!” Ingrid was quick to grab her purse back before you could even get out of her arms.

As the two of you headed to the checkout, Ingrid glanced over at you, her voice quieter now. “Thanks for helping me with this. I wanted it to be something meaningful, you know? Something that shows her how proud I am of her.”

You bumped her shoulder lightly. “You didn’t need my help for that. It’s obvious how much you care about her. This gift is just the cherry on top.”

With the gift brought, you and Ingrid headed for the outside. Ingrid pulled her scarf tihght around her neck again before she gripped your hand in hers. You made it all of 5 paces into the cool air before you broke the peaceful silence that had settled between you.

“Now,” you said with a grin, “let’s talk wrapping paper. Because you’re not just slapping this in a bag and calling it a day. We’re going all out.”

Ingrid laughed, the sound echoing warmly in the quiet street. “Bows and ribbons?”

“Obviously,” you replied. “It’s not Christmas without glitter.”

She squeezed your hand, her smile wide and full of gratitude. “Deal. But you’re in charge of the glitter.”

[lisalamona]

𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 - XV

Chapter XV: Wouldn't You Like

. Summary: Despite your brother's insistence, you stubbornly decided to join him and his men in the war. Now, are you prepared to face the consequences of your actions? . Pairing: Various x Fem! Reader . Warnings: drugs (holy moly!), non-sexual nudity (barely described) . Notes: Sorry it took so long 🥺

Previous chapter │ Next chapter

Masterlist

The palace halls stretched far beyond what you could have imagined, a seemingly endless expanse of elegance and mystery. Vines wove their way up marble columns, their emerald tendrils twisting like delicate fingers, while flowers you had never seen before bloomed in breathtaking displays of colour. They extended through the halls as though they had grown naturally, yet at the same time, their arrangement seemed deliberate, as if the palace itself had designed them with purpose.

Every turn you took left you more and more disoriented than the last. You could only wonder how those who lived here managed to navigate it so effortlessly—it felt less like a palace and more like a labyrinth. Not even the winding corridors of the palace you had once called home could compare to the intricate twists and turns you were forced to weave through now.

Occasionally, you passed other nymphs moving gracefully through the halls, their ethereal presence only adding to the dreamlike atmosphere. Some carried woven baskets in the crooks of their arms, filled with items unknown to you, while others strolled in pairs or small groups, lost in quiet conversation. Regardless of their activity, their reaction to you remained the same: a fleeting look of curiosity, followed by a polite smile and a nod of acknowledgment before they continued on their way.

Choosing to ignore the stares, you focused on the nymph leading you. You kept a careful distance, staying far enough behind that you could bolt if necessary. Trust did not come easily to you, not here, not yet. From your vantage point, you could only see her back, but that alone told you plenty. Her hair was a cascading mass of curls, an orangey-red hue that shimmered like embers in the soft light filtering through the palace. The sheer length of it was impressive, reaching all the way down to her waist, and it was thick—voluminous in a way that made you wonder how long it had taken to grow. Nestled within her curls were flowers, some woven into tiny braids that were sparsely scattered throughout her hair, while others appeared to be placed at random, yet somehow remained perfectly in place, untouched by movement. Even as she walked, her steps light and almost bouncing, not a single petal fell.

Her attire was just as intricate. She wore a finely crafted chiton, its fabric flowing like liquid with every movement. The bottom edges were embroidered with swirling golden patterns, shimmering each time the material shifted. She was barefoot, though by now, you had come to suspect that where you were, shoes were not a necessity. Perhaps this was meant to be a sanctuary—a safe haven at best, or a cult at worst. Either way, you weren't letting your guard down.

Every so often, she glanced back over her shoulder at you, as if checking to make sure you were still following. These quick glances allowed you brief glimpses of her face—soft freckles dusting her cheeks, her delicate features framed by her fiery curls, and striking baby-blue eyes that locked onto yours for a fleeting moment before turning forward again. You were sure she could navigate these halls blindfolded.

Eventually, you arrived at a room. She opened the door with ease, holding it ajar as she waited for you to step inside. Hesitation settled in your gut like a heavy stone. Your fight-or-flight instincts flared, and gods, how you wished you had your sword right now. Still, you forced yourself to enter.

The room was narrow but cozy, bathed in the soft glow of natural light from a large, arched window directly ahead. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with neatly folded fabrics in a breathtaking spectrum of colors. Some gleamed with a silk-like sheen, while others were thicker, woven from coarser materials. Opposite the shelves, baskets overflowed with clothing—some wrinkled and in need of care, others draped haphazardly, as if recently discarded. The air carried the faintest hint of lavender, mixing with the subtle scent of linen and aged wood.

"Choose one." The nymph said behind you, propping the door open to prevent it from shutting completely.

You turned to look at her, confusion knitting your brows.

"I'm sorry?" Your eyes followed her as she moved effortlessly into the room, almost gliding. You studied her movements, trying to decipher her meaning.

She chuckled softly, bringing a hand to her mouth. Embarrassment prickled at your skin. You weren't sure what she was expecting you to do, but it felt like something obvious—like you had somehow missed an unspoken rule. Heat bubbled in your chest and quickly crept up your neck to your face.

She gestured with both hands toward the shelves of fabric. "You can choose whichever one you'd like."

You glanced at the shelves, then back at her.

"...Why?"

She tilted her head slightly, as if the answer should have been apparent. "You can't tell me that wearing that is comfortable. It looks like it's been through Hades itself."

Oh. That made sense now. She wanted you to pick something to wear.

And what was it with everyone insulting your clothing today?

Noticing your silence, she arched an eyebrow. "You do know what clothes are... don't you?"

"Yes!" The word came out far too quickly, and you cleared your throat, trying to salvage your dignity. "Yes, I know what clothes are."

"Well then, pick one."

Turning your full attention to the fabric, you hesitated. The sheer variety was overwhelming. After years of wearing the same few options, how were you supposed to decide now?

Blue? No, it reminded you too much of the sea, the wound still raw and aching.

Red? No, that damned eye still plagued your dreams.

So, instead, you reached for the one closest to you without thinking. It was a soft, barely-there shade of pink, the color so delicate it seemed to fade into the light. Your fingers brushed over the fabric, and it was softer than you expected, light yet durable. It felt... right. Safe. Familiar, in a way you couldn't quite place.

Perhaps that was enough.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes?"

"You don't sound sure."

"I was until you asked me."

She just chuckled, clearly amused, and walked over to one of the baskets filled with clothes waiting to be washed. She lifted it effortlessly into her arms, moving with the kind of practiced ease that suggested she had done this a thousand times before.

"Come." She said simply before turning on her heel and heading toward the door, fully expecting you to follow without question.

You stood frozen for a second, processing the sudden shift, before realizing she was already halfway down the hall. Letting out a breath, you quickly trotted after her, catching up in just a few strides. Even though some part of you still urged you to stay behind her, to keep a safe distance, you ignored it completely and matched her pace, walking beside her instead.

"I'm sorry, um..." You trailed off, suddenly aware that you didn't know her name.

"Aora." She answered without even glancing at you.

"Aora..." You repeated, testing the name on your tongue. You hesitated before continuing, "Could I know where you're taking me?"

"Well, you need a bath, and since I have things to wash, I figured I might as well take care of that too."

She led you through the palace, down a hallway that seemed to stretch longer than it should have, until finally, you reached the back of the structure. Enormous open doors led to the outside, where the sight before you made you stop in your tracks.

The place was breathtaking.

A natural spring stretched out before you, its water so clear it looked almost unreal. The surface shimmered under the sunlight, reflecting the towering trees that surrounded it like a protective barrier. Their branches intertwined above, forming a loose canopy that filtered the light into dappled golden patches across the grass and water. Wildflowers of every color bloomed in clusters along the water's edge, their petals dancing in the soft breeze. The air smelled fresh—earthy, yet faintly floral, with a trace of salt carried from the distant sea. It was secluded, untouched, and for the first time since you arrived, you felt the smallest sense of peace.

There was no one else here. No hidden figures lurking in the shadows, no watching eyes. Just you, Aora, and the gentle sound of rippling water.

Aora made her way toward a large rock to the right, setting her basket down. When she didn't hear your footsteps on the grass behind her, she turned to look at you, one brow raised.

"Well? What are you waiting for? I won't look, I promise."

You swallowed, mustering the courage to step closer to the water. Anxiety bubbled in your chest, a lingering hesitation you couldn't quite shake. Slowly, you set the article of clothing down on a nearby rock near where you planned to bathe. Your gaze flickered to Aora once more, checking to see if she was watching. She wasn't—completely lost in her own world, preparing everything for her own task.

Still, you hesitated, scanning the treeline, searching for anyone you might have missed. But there was no one.

Taking a deep breath, you stripped, pausing briefly to test the lake's bottom with your foot. The smooth stones beneath the surface felt firm, undisturbed. Assured that nothing lurked unseen, you placed your discarded clothes beside your new ones and stepped in, submerging yourself in one swift motion.

The water enveloped you instantly, a warmth that caught you off guard. It wasn't scalding, nor unnaturally hot—just pleasantly, soothingly warm, the perfect contrast to the tension coiled in your muscles. As you sank deeper, letting the water reach your shoulders, the tightness in your body gradually melted away. A breath you hadn't realized you were holding slipped from your lips. For the first time since you arrived, your mind felt quiet.

You floated there for a moment, staring up at the canopy of trees above, processing everything.

How had a group of people survived here, on an island in the middle of nowhere? How long had they lived like this? Why were they here?

And what was the deal with Circe?

The questions nagged at you, but one stood out above the rest.

Turning your head slightly, you called out. "Aora?"

"Hm?" she responded without looking up, focused on scrubbing one of the garments from her basket.

"This place... what exactly is it?" You hesitated before clarifying. "How is there a whole group of you out here? Why?"

Aora didn't answer right away. Instead, she wrung out the fabric in her hands, watching as the water dripped back into the lake. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm, assured.

"It's a safe haven." she said simply. "Lady Circe gave us a home when we had nowhere else to go. She helped us through things no one else would. We trust her. I'm sure you will too."

There was no doubt in her tone. No hesitation.

A safe haven.

You weren't sure how to feel about that.

Some part of you wanted to believe her, to let your guard down just a little. But another part, the part that had kept you alive for this long, still whispered warnings in the back of your mind.

A slight unease settled in your stomach. Once you were finished, you'd have to talk to her—thank her, clear up the misunderstanding, and then regroup with the rest.

You said nothing, only sinking a little deeper into the water, letting the warmth soothe the questions that still lingered.

For now, that answer would have to be enough.

──────🐷──────

Odysseus felt a storm brewing inside him, emotions clashing and tangling in a way he couldn't fully comprehend. They swelled, pressing against his ribs, ready to explode and send him crumbling.

He was pissed. Furious that Eurylochus had the audacity to defy the only direct order that truly mattered to him. It had been simple—do not let his sister out of his sight. Do not let her get hurt. And yet, here they were. Eurylochus had failed something so basic, so vital, and now you were missing. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. The more he thought about it, the more memories surfaced—how you had been even as a child, always slipping away, always pushing boundaries. Maybe he should've known better. Maybe, deep down, he had.

He was exhausted. It wasn't just the kind of exhaustion that weighed on his limbs, slowing his every step—it was bone-deep, soul-deep, a weariness that blurred his thoughts and made his muscles feel like lead. His body ached from endless battles, from sleepless nights, from carrying the weight of too many losses. But more than anything, he was tired of fighting battles he wasn't sure he could win.

How did he even think he would defeat this woman?

All he had was his sword and his wit. And what use was a sword against someone who could turn men into pigs? Who knew what else she could do? As for his wit—well, it had failed him more than once lately. Once, his words had been his greatest weapon, a tool sharper than any blade, capable of bending even the most stubborn minds to his will. But ever since that happened, his silver tongue seemed to do nothing but twist the knife further. Every attempt at reasoning with an enemy had only led to more disaster.

All he wanted was to reach Ithaca. To hold his son in his arms, press his forehead to his wife's, and finally—finally—collapse into their bed, safe and whole. But fate seemed determined to pull him further and further from home.

He was frustrated—frustrated with you.

You had been stubborn and reckless since the moment he first laid eyes on you. As a child, it had been adorable, the way you would cause mischief and grin your way out of trouble. But you weren't a child anymore. You were a soldier, one of his men, and it was time you started acting like it. You needed to learn to take orders, to respect him as more than just your brother. He wouldn't always be there to save you. How many times had he told you that? How many times had you ignored him? It was infuriating. When he found you, he was going to make damn sure you understood—whether you liked it or not.

If he found you.

And that was the worst part of all. Because underneath the anger, the frustration, the exhaustion—he was scared.

Gods, he hated admitting it, even to himself, but fear was curling in his gut like a snake. He was terrified of what he would find when he reached this so-called palace. Were his men hurt? Were they even alive? Were you alive?

His breath came unevenly at the thought.

What if something had happened to you? What if he was too late? What if—No. Enough.

You were alive. You had to be. He repeated it like a mantra, like a prayer, forcing himself to believe it. You were alive, and when he found you, you were going to get the scolding of a lifetime.

He had made a decision. He needed to be sterner with you. If you wanted to be treated as an equal to his men, then that was exactly how he would treat you. If you refused to follow orders, you were out. He wasn't about to let you cause more casualties just because you couldn't control yourself.

...And yet, a whisper of doubt slithered into his mind.

That's what you wanted, wasn't it? To be treated as an equal?

Then so be it.

Odysseus exhaled sharply, shaking his head. His mind wandered back to Eurylochus' words—how that woman had taken down half his men in mere seconds. Through trickery, sure, but still. It was unsettling. She had magic, something he had no defense against. How was he supposed to defeat her?

He supposed he could try charm, but that was risky. Considering what she had done to his men, he wasn't about to tempt fate. He had no desire to end up as a pig himself. That thought alone had him gritting his teeth. His men were idiots. What kind of respectable man fell for a woman's flattery so easily? He coul dunderstand why she had seen them as pigs in the first place.

His spiraling thoughts were interrupted by a sudden rustling above him.

Leaves shuddered, and something that sounded almost like a bird's cackle echoed through the trees.

Normally, he wouldn't have given it a second thought—just the wilderness being the wilderness. But something about this sound was off. It was unnatural, something he couldn't quite place, and his instincts screamed at him not to trust it.

He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes snapping to the towering trees above, scanning for movement. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword.

Silence.

Then—the sound again. This time, from behind him.

He turned sharply, but there was nothing.

A slow, creeping unease settled over him. He knew he wasn't imagining it. Something was there, moving, circling. Watching.

Then, it came again, this time from his right.

Odysseus moved faster now, his head snapping toward the sound, but still, he saw nothing.

A voice sliced through the air, smooth and amused.

"I must say, what a brilliant speech you gave back there. Truly admirable."

His body tensed, every muscle coiled like a drawn bowstring. The voice—it was coming from everywhere. Nowhere?. It filled the air around him, slipping through the trees, slithering into his ears as if the very wind carried it.

His grip on his sword tightened.

"Who goes there?" His voice was firm, demanding.

"Don't worry, I'm just a friend wanting to help."

The words were meant to be reassuring, but they had the opposite effect. Odysseus only tensed further, his grip on his sword tightening. If anything, that cryptic response put him more on edge. His brows knitted together as he remained silent, waiting for the voice to reveal more.

"You know, Circe's not a foe easily beaten. You'll need help. A blessing, if you will. Divine intervention. And who better to lend a hand than a certain god?"

At the mention of a higher being, Odysseus' body went rigid. A god.

That single word sent a shiver down his spine, and not in a good way. The last time he had encountered a god, it had gone horribly wrong. Poseidon had ensured his life became a waking nightmare, and the thought of another divine figure meddling in his fate was... unnerving, to say the least. His lips pressed into a tight line, his mind racing.

"Someone who's not afraid to... send a message."

The voice now came from directly beside his left ear. Too close.

Odysseus whipped his head around, eyes darting wildly, only to find nothing. His pulse quickened. The unseen presence toyed with him, shifting, flitting out of reach. Then—a tap.

Right shoulder.

He spun sharply, this time ready for a fight.

Instead, he came face to face with a man.

No, not just a man.

The figure hovered inches above the ground, clad in the garb of a traveler—flowing robes in warm hues of gold and burnt orange, a satchel slung across his chest, its contents impossibly heavy yet carried with effortless grace. His hat, tilted just enough to obscure his eyes, bore two small, feathered wings, identical to those adorning the sandals on his feet.

"Hermes." Odysseus exhaled sharply, realization dawning like a heavy weight upon him. His stomach twisted.

Even after all these years, after all he had seen—gods still unsettled him.

You'd think he would have grown accustomed to their sudden appearances, to the way they materialized out of nowhere, uninvited and all-knowing. But he hadn't. And deep down, he knew he never would.

Hermes took in Odysseus' stunned expression and threw his head back in laughter—a sharp, cackling sound, identical to the one that had followed him through the woods. A chill ran down the back of Odysseus' neck. So that had been him all along.

The god was entertained. Amused.

That, more than anything, put Odysseus on edge.

Still chuckling, Hermes draped an arm around Odysseus' shoulder, his grip far too casual for someone discussing life or death matters. "Now tell me, darling, " He began smoothly, "wouldn't you like a taste of power? To wield more than mere words? To beat her at her own game?"

Odysseus remained stiff beneath the god's touch, his mind spinning. He hated being played with, and this felt an awful lot like a game.

Hermes extended his free hand, as if striking a deal. "Trust me, you'll want my help."

Odysseus narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

Hermes let out an exaggerated sigh, as if Odysseus was being impossibly slow. Then, in a voice laced with mischief, he began listing off horrors like they were items on a menu.

"Well, for starters, she can turn you into an animal. One that'll end up on her plate if she's feeling particularly hungry."

Odysseus stiffened.

"She can make you fall hopelessly, helplessly in love with her—have you worshipping the very ground she walks on, as if she were the love of your life."

Odysseus' blood ran cold. Was that what had happened to his men? Was it magic that had lured them inside the palace? Not just temptation—but enchantment?

"And worst of all," Hermes continued, his voice dipping into something almost dark. "she can conjure up a monster—a three-headed beast that will rip you apart before you even have a chance to scream."

A heavy silence settled between them.

Odysseus swallowed hard.

He had known this would be difficult. He had known Circe was no ordinary woman. But this? If Hermes was telling the truth, then he was truly outmatched.

Hermes, sensing the shift, leaned in, his voice honeyed. "So, I'll ask again—would you like my help?"

The god extended his hand once more, fingers outstretched. Waiting.

Odysseus stared at it.

Everything in him screamed not to trust Hermes. The god was a trickster, a deceiver. His very existence revolved around twisting words and warping truths. But at the same time...

What other choice did he have?

He could not afford to fail here. His men—you—were counting on him.

His pride warred with his logic. His instinct told him to refuse, to rely on his own cunning, as he always had. But this was not a battle of blades. It was magic against man.

And he was only a man.

Slowly, Odysseus exhaled. He weighed his options, searched for an alternative, found none.

He reached out and clasped Hermes' hand.

"Yes."

The moment the word left his lips, Hermes' grin stretched impossibly wide.

Not once had the god stopped smiling, but now? Now, his delight was palpable, almost unsettling. If Odysseus wasn't already rattled by what Circe was capable of, he might have found it downright unnerving.

But there was no turning back now.

──────🐷──────

Once your bath was over, you slipped into the newly acquired chiton. The fabric was softer than anything you had worn in years, its airy weave allowing it to drape effortlessly over your skin. It moved with you, flowing freely rather than constricting, a stark contrast to the garments you had worn before—thicker, sturdier fabric built for battle, meant to endure rough training, long marches, and the ever-present threat of war.

This one was different. Gentle. Elegant.

You ran your fingers over the golden embroidery woven delicately into the hem, small intricate details that shimmered under the light. It was the kind of craftsmanship you would expect to see of a queen. It almost felt undeserved.

A simple rope, tied neatly around your waist, was the final touch.

Your hair, still damp, clung lightly to the back of your neck. You let it fall naturally over your shoulders, the cool air refreshing against your skin.

It had been so long since you'd had a bath like this—peaceful, unhurried. No shouts of men echoing around you, no need to rush before the next battle, no stale smell of sea salt and sweat clinging to your skin. You hadn't realized just how much you'd missed this.

Aora, who had been quietly finishing her task, glanced over and gave you a nod, gesturing for you to follow. She gathered the rest of the garments she had been washing and led you back into the depths of the palace.

You tried to memorize the twists and turns of the halls as you walked, noting the carved archways, the way ivy seemed to grow unchecked in some corners of the corridors, as if the palace itself was alive. But the effort was futile—Circe's home felt like a labyrinth, shifting and endless, refusing to be understood.

By the time you arrived at the courtyard, Aora turned to you.

"Stay here." She instructed. "Circe will be with you shortly."

And just like that, she disappeared into the palace once more.

You did as you were told, not daring to wander.

Instead, your gaze drifted, exploring in silence.

A flowering vine curled up one of the marble pillars beside you, its twisting tendrils creeping toward your height. The deep green leaves shimmered under the golden light, and nestled among them was a single bloom—a soft purple hue, petals unfurling like silk. You reached out without thinking, fingertips grazing the air just before touching—

A sudden chorus of squeals shattered the quiet.

You jerked back instinctively as a flurry of movement burst through the doors you had entered from.

A herd of pigs came rushing in, stumbling over one another, their distressed cries filling the air. At first, you thought they had simply escaped from a pen, but something about their movements—frantic, panicked—made your stomach twist.

Nymphs guided them across the courtyard, ensuring none broke away from the group. But as they passed, one of the pigs—small, trembling—locked eyes with you.

It stopped abruptly, squealing louder than the rest, its gaze wide and desperate.

And for a fleeting moment, your breath caught in your throat.

Because something was wrong.

It wasn't just an animal's cry. There was something in its eyes. Something... almost human.

The thought sent a chill down your spine.

Before you could process it further, a figure slid into place beside you.

A hand reached out—not harshly, but with a practiced, effortless motion—and with a simple nudge of her foot, Circe redirected the pig.

The creature hesitated, glancing between you and the sorceress before reluctantly rejoining the rest of the group, ushered along by the nymphs.

You stood frozen, watching them disappear into another chamber, heart still hammering.

Why had that pig looked at you like that?

Before you could ask, Circe plucked the flower you had been admiring earlier—the soft purple bloom, vibrant against her fingers. Without a word, she reached up and tucked it behind your ear, brushing a strand of damp hair from your face in the process.

Her touch was featherlight. Almost... gentle.

"I trust the bath was to your liking?" She mused, a knowing smile playing at her lips.

You blinked, forcing yourself to refocus. "Yes," You managed. "thank you. And for the clothing as well."

Circe waved a hand dismissively, as if the gratitude was unnecessary.

"But," You continued, shifting your weight, "I should probably head back. My brother must be worried."

Circe's expression didn't change, but there was something in her gaze that sharpened. "Your brother?"

"Yes," You nodded, straightening. "I came to this island with him and his men. He sent half of us to scout it while the others remained back. You see, we got stranded after—"

"Half of you?"

Something in her tone made you pause.

"Yes," You confirmed, though her reaction unsettled you. "I can say on behalf of all the men you took in, as well as myself, that we'd be indebted to you. We appreciate your generosity. I wish I could stay longer, but my brother—"

"We are your family now."

The words were said smoothly, effortlessly. As if they were simply true.

You stiffened. "You need to understand—those men weren't a danger to me. I chose to travel with them. All those years ago, I made that decision."

Circe tilted her head slightly. "Sometimes we think we choose things," She said, voice calm, "but in reality, we have no other option. We do it to survive."

You frowned, the weight of her words sinking into your chest.

"I understand what you're saying," You admitted, "but it doesn't apply to me. Not in this case, anyway." Your voice grew steadier. "Those men are under my brother's command. And he—"

Your lips curled slightly, determined.

"My brother would never let me get hurt. Not that I would let myself get hurt. Especially by them."

Circe regarded you carefully. "How?"

You gave her a small, almost teasing smile. "A sword and strongly worded replies are a lady's best friend."

She chuckled, a quiet, amused sound. Then, after a pause, she glanced at you, as if considering something.

"Say, dear," Circe murmured. "while you're here, would you mind teaching us some of your skills?"

Your brow arched. "Who says I'm staying?"

"You said you were hungry before, yes?" She ignored your question.

The words were casual. But there was something else underneath them, something that made your breath hitch for just a moment.

Circe smiled.

You swallowed.

Oh.

You were playing a game you hadn't even realized had begun.

──────🐷──────

Hermes rummaged through his satchel with a vigor that bordered on theatrical, his entire arm disappearing into its depths. The bag seemed bottomless, endless, filled with trinkets, scrolls, and gods only knew what else. Odysseus' patience wore thinner with each passing second.

His mind was already racing ahead, anticipating what he might find at Circe's palace.He knew he had to act fast, but here he was—waiting for a god to dig through his belongings like some absentminded merchant at the bottom of a chest.

Just as he opened his mouth to snap something impatient, Hermes let out an excited gasp.

"Here we are!" The god's voice rang with triumph.

He yanked out a delicate white flower, its thin stem arching between his fingers. The petals glowed softly, reminiscent of moonlight caught on still water. Odysseus stared, watching as Hermes turned it this way and that way, inspecting it like a jeweler assessing a fine gem.

Despite being buried under a ridiculous amount of other things, the flower remained pristine, untouched—as if the satchel itself had known to protect it.

"Behold!" Hermes declared, extending it toward Odysseus with an exaggerated flourish.

Odysseus took it, rolling it between his calloused fingers. It was... just a flower.

His brow furrowed. How was this supposed to help him?

"How is this going to—?"

"Oh, darling." Hermes chuckled, clearly amused by his confusion. "You ask, yet you hold the answer." He pointed to the root of the plant, tapping it lightly. "Here lies the power you'll need to take her on."

Odysseus frowned, bringing the plant closer to his face, inspecting the thick, knotted roots. What kind of magic did this thing hold? Was it poisonous? Was he supposed to rub it on his skin? Burn it?

Seeing his clear lack of understanding, Hermes sighed and elaborated. "Once you consume and digest it, you'll be able to manifest a being of your own creation."

Odysseus snapped his gaze back to the god, baffled. "You're bluffing."

Hermes smirked and tapped his forehead— a little too hard, causing Odysseus to flinch.

"You lack imagination, darling."

Odysseus' mind reeled. A being of his own creation? That was impossible.

Before he could voice his doubts, Hermes cut him off. "It's only for a moment, though. Until you've beaten her."

Odysseus didn't know whether to be relieved or more unnerved. This felt... too convenient. The gods never offered help for free. There was always a price.

His grip on the flower tightened. "And what do I give you in return?"

At that, Hermes cackled, his laughter echoing through the trees. "Oh, please. Just using it is enough. Believe me, darling."

That was hardly comforting.

Odysseus stared at the plant, weighing his options. This could easily be a trick—a cruel one. But at this point, what other choice did he have?

Hermes clapped his hands together, startling him from his thoughts.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Eat it."

Odysseus hesitated. "...Now?"

Hermes gave him a look. "Well, yes. You need to fully digest it, darling."

There was no point in dragging this out. Odysseus inhaled sharply, then took a bite.

Instant regret.

The moment his teeth sank into the root, a harsh bitterness flooded his mouth. It was earthy, like chewing on damp soil and tree bark, but somehow worse. The texture was fibrous, stringy, almost rubbery, forcing him to work his jaw painfully just to break it down.

His stomach immediately recoiled, his gag reflex kicking in as his throat threatened to reject the vile thing altogether. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to swallow.

His eyes watered.

Hermes grinned.

"You might want to sit down for this."

Odysseus barely processed the words, but his body was already feeling... strange. His limbs felt lighter and heavier all at once, like he was floating but also being pulled downward by an unseen force.

Hermes, ever the entertainer, leaned in conspiratorially.

"Oh! And you won't guess what it's called."

Odysseus, struggling to chew a second bite, shot him a glare.

With visible effort to keep from laughing, Hermes blurted—

"Holy Moly!"

Odysseus froze mid-chew.

"...Ah?"

The absurdity of the moment was almost enough to snap him out of what was happening—almost.

Because then, the effects started to hit.

The world around him began to tilt, as if the earth itself had suddenly decided to move beneath him. Colors sharpened, sounds stretched, the rustling of leaves and the crackling of Hermes' laughter stretching unnaturally long before snapping back into place.

His body felt both detached and hyper-aware, like his nerves were vibrating under his skin. The cool evening air against his face turned to warmth, then cold again, then warm.

Hermes, now looking far too entertained, crouched beside him, resting his chin on one hand.

"Oh, this is going to be fun."

Odysseus barely registered him. His vision blurred at the edges, his mind both racing and slowing at the same time.

It was going to be a long few hours.

BONUS: A little high Ody for the road :)

. Taglist: @permanently-nothere @lemonberryberry @supernatural-bangtanboys @doodle-with-rhy @yonkersworld @pookiezme @keikeiluvyou @hornehlittleweeblet2