#but it is a straight shot to and from work

[mya-valentine]

Hi! it's me again! I'd like to request a few genshin men/boys and most of them are my favs like at least like 14 of them😂 fluff please

I wanted to request a Diluc, Razor (it's fine if you don't do him, but I'm pretty sure he's at least 16 or 17) Xiao, Wanderer, Cyno, Al Haitham, Neuvillete, Kinich, Ororon (there's lack of Ororon love) and Dainsleif. I wanted the headcannon to be like:

their friends asking fem!reader: What do you see in him?

reader: he makes me laugh

i wanted to see this kind of headcannon for so long (i hope it's okay if i can request this much character😅)

Headcanon: He Makes Me Laugh

Diluc

At a cozy café in Mondstadt, you and your friends sit around a small table, sharing stories over steaming cups of tea. One of your friends leans in, eyebrows raised. “Diluc? Really? What do you see in him?”

You take a moment to think, a smile creeping onto your face. “He makes me laugh,” you finally reply.

Your friends exchange skeptical glances. “Diluc? The serious, brooding one? How does that even work?”

You lean back in your chair, recalling a recent night at the tavern. Diluc had been tending bar when a customer made a ridiculous drink request. With a straight face, he had leaned over to you and said, “If I serve one more ‘secret drink’ request, I might just invent a potion to erase memories of it.”

You burst into laughter, and he shot you a quick, playful smirk, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. The moment had felt electric, a fleeting glimpse of the softer side he rarely showed anyone else.

As you reminisce, you can’t help but grin, feeling warmth in your chest. “He’s got this dry wit that surprises me. You just have to know where to look.”

One friend rolls her eyes. “Okay, I can see it. But how do you get him to show it?”

You shrug playfully. “Maybe he just needs someone to break through the brooding exterior.”

Diluc, standing nearby, overhears your laughter and smirks, catching your eye with a knowing look, as if he appreciates the affection behind your words.

Razor

Your friends are gathered in your room, sprawled on the floor as you all catch up. Suddenly, one of them narrows their eyes and asks, “You’re with Razor? What do you even talk about?”

You can’t help but giggle at the question. “Oh, you have no idea. He makes me laugh!”

Your friends exchange confused looks. “Razor? The one who spends all his time with wolves?”

You nod, recalling a beautiful morning walk you took with him through Wolvendom. “The other day, we were watching the sunrise. He looked at it, wide-eyed, and said, ‘Looks like egg yolk spilled.’ And then he asked, ‘Why do people say ‘crack of dawn’? Dawn don’t break…’”

Your friends burst into laughter, imagining Razor’s serious face juxtaposed with his innocent, childlike observations.

“He’s not trying to be funny, but he has this way of looking at the world that’s just… refreshing,” you explain, a soft smile on your lips as you think about him.

One friend grins, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I guess if you’re into that… unique perspective.”

Razor, who has been listening from the doorway, looks a bit confused but intrigued. “I like egg yolk. It is good food,” he adds earnestly, causing another round of laughter.

Xiao

In a quiet corner of Liyue Harbor, your friends sit across from you, disbelief painted on their faces. “Xiao?” one asks, incredulous. “But he’s so… intense and brooding! What do you see in him?”

You chuckle, leaning back in your chair. “He makes me laugh,” you respond, shaking your head at their expressions.

Your friends exchange skeptical glances, clearly struggling to understand how someone as serious as Xiao could ever be funny. “Seriously?” one of them challenges. “How?”

You remember a day when you and Xiao were training together on the mountain. As you stumbled over a loose rock, he caught you just in time, and without missing a beat, he said, “Are mortals always this clumsy?”

You had burst out laughing at his deadpan delivery, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “He doesn’t mean to be funny, but his honesty is refreshing,” you explain, smiling at the memory.

Your friends nod, starting to see your point. “Okay, I can see how that would be amusing.”

Just then, Xiao approaches, overhearing the conversation. He raises an eyebrow. “You laugh a lot around me. Is that good?”

You grin, meeting his gaze. “Absolutely! It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

Xiao looks slightly flustered but turns away, a hint of a smile breaking through his usual stoicism.

Wanderer

Strolling through a quiet clearing with your friends, one of them shoots you a concerned glance. “So… Wanderer? The same guy who’s known for his prickly attitude? What exactly do you see in him?”

You smirk, already used to the question. “He makes me laugh,” you say simply.

They look skeptical, one raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same guy?”

You nod, smiling at the memory of a recent encounter. Wanderer had once muttered something about the “absurdity” of people who thought they knew everything about him. He’d followed it up with, “Honestly, they know less about me than that rock does about erosion.” He’d pointed at a boulder, then turned to you, daring you to laugh. But you couldn’t help it—you cracked up, and he’d rolled his eyes, but with the faintest hint of a smile himself.

Your friends seem taken aback. “Wait, Wanderer said that?”

Just then, Wanderer appears, crossing his arms as he approaches. “Are you sharing my profound observations with these mortals?” he asks, feigning annoyance, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he glances at you.

You grin, meeting his gaze. “I can’t help it. You’re just so funny.”

He scoffs, muttering something about “annoying people,” but the faintest smile betrays him, earning a knowing look from your friends.

Cyno

After a long day, you and your friends gather at a cozy teahouse. One of them finally leans in with a curious look. “Cyno, though? Isn’t he a little… intense? What do you see in him?”

A grin spreads across your face as you think of Cyno’s well-meaning, if occasionally dreadful, sense of humor. “He makes me laugh.”

Your friends look surprised, clearly doubtful. “Cyno? Are you sure? He’s the General Mahamatra!”

You laugh at their disbelief. “Yes, that Cyno. Once, he tried to tell me a ‘joke’ about Teyvat’s elemental reactions. ‘Did you know Pyro and Hydro make steam…y results?’” You can’t help but laugh at the memory, and your friends blink at you, processing.

Then one snickers, and another gives in. “Okay, that’s actually—unintentionally funny.”

As if summoned, Cyno appears at the table. “Did I hear mention of… humor?” he asks with utmost seriousness, casting a proud look your way. “I have another one. What did the dendro traveler say to the withering zone?”

You grin knowingly, but your friends glance at each other nervously. “What?” they ask in unison.

“‘Leave it to me,’” Cyno deadpans, straight-faced. You burst out laughing, your friends struggling to hold back their smiles. Cyno raises an eyebrow, satisfied. “See? I told you humor is a valuable asset.”

Alhaitham

Gathered at the Sumeru Library, your friends can’t hide their disbelief. “Alhaitham? What do you even see in him?” one of them exclaims, shaking her head.

You grin, leaning back in your chair. “He makes me laugh.”

“Really? The stoic scholar?” they ask, bewildered.

You reminisce about a quiet evening when you found him deeply engrossed in a book. You had asked, “What’s so interesting?” He glanced up and replied, “The existential dread of characters in fiction is quite entertaining. They can’t even do anything about it.”

His deadpan delivery made you laugh, and he’d raised an eyebrow, confused by your reaction. “You find that funny?” he’d asked, genuinely perplexed, which only made you laugh harder.

Your friends start to nod, clearly amused. “Okay, maybe he has a point there.”

Alhaitham, overhearing your laughter, approaches with an amused glint in his eye. “I see you’re discussing literature. Should I be concerned?”

You shake your head, smiling. “Only if you’re worried about being funny.”

He smirks, unfazed. “Then I have nothing to worry about.”

Neuvillete

In the refined atmosphere of Fontaine’s opera house, your friends question your attachment to Neuvillette, the reserved Chief Justice. “So, what do you see in him?” one friend asks, an eyebrow raised. “Neuvillette’s so… solemn. He barely smiles.”

You chuckle, casting a glance at the grand stage. “But that’s the thing. He makes me laugh when I least expect it.”

Your friends exchange looks, clearly unconvinced. “Really? Neuvillette?”

You nod, remembering a moment from an evening much like this one. Neuvillette had been watching an opera, his typical composed expression in place, when he leaned over and whispered, “I find it curious that, despite its grandeur, this aria is about a fish lamenting her lost pond. Dramatic, isn’t it?” His understated humor and subtle wit had made you stifle a laugh, though he looked pleased with your reaction.

One friend’s eyes widen in surprise. “Wait, he actually jokes? In his own way?”

At that moment, Neuvillette arrives, having overheard the conversation. “I merely observe the world as it is,” he says with a faint, almost invisible smile. “I trust I’ve provided adequate amusement?”

You smile up at him warmly, while your friends look at each other, slowly starting to see his appeal. “Yes,” you reply, reaching for his hand. “You certainly have.”

Kinich

As you and your friends stroll through the bustling markets, one of them nudges you, raising an eyebrow. “So… Kinich? He’s got that cold, intense vibe. What do you see in him?”

You chuckle, picturing the man who, beneath his pragmatic exterior, occasionally revealed a dry, clever humor that caught you off guard. “He makes me laugh,” you reply, smiling.

Your friends blink, visibly unconvinced. “Kinich? The Kinich? The guy who talks like every word is a business contract?”

“Trust me, he’s funnier than you think.” You recall a time when you had teased him about always being so serious. He had given you a mock-stern look and said, “Seriousness is simply efficiency applied to communication. If I were to, say, laugh needlessly, it would be inefficient—unless, of course, you think I’m funny?” His tone had been deadpan, but you had caught the sparkle in his eyes, which only made you laugh harder.

One of your friends scoffs, half amused, half disbelieving. “He’s secretly funny? Now that I have to see.”

Just then, Kinich appears, drawn by the sound of laughter. He stands with his usual composed expression, his gaze steady as he glances at you. “Am I interrupting?” he asks, though his eyes linger on yours with a warmth your friends would never guess at.

“Not at all,” you reply, a mischievous smile on your lips. “We were just talking about how funny you are.”

A single brow arches, and he replies smoothly, “If efficiency in humor is what amuses you, then I suppose I’ve succeeded.”

Your friends stare, open-mouthed, as he gives a faint smile, the smallest show of his affection reserved just for you.

Ororon

Gathered in a quiet grove just outside the bustling village, your friends share stories, each of them glancing at you with barely concealed curiosity. Finally, one of them speaks up. “Ororon? Really? He’s so… unconventional. What do you see in him?”

You smile, looking down at the wildflowers in your hand. “He makes me laugh.”

They seem taken aback, sharing doubtful glances. “Ororon? But he’s so… odd. He even lives out in the woods by himself. Isn’t he a little too eccentric?”

You laugh softly, thinking of all the moments Ororon’s uniqueness had brightened your days. “Maybe. But he’s more observant than anyone I know.” You recount a day spent walking with him through the forest, where he had pointed out a bird with feathers the color of storm clouds and said, with absolute conviction, “Look at him, he’s judging us. Clearly, he’s unimpressed with our lack of feathers.” You’d laughed, and he had given you a small, playful smile.

One friend smirks, shaking their head. “You actually find him funny?”

Before you can answer, Ororon appears, emerging from the trees with his usual easygoing stride. “Are we discussing birds?” he asks, his expression calm as he settles beside you. “I could have sworn I saw a bird earlier that looked particularly snobbish. Perhaps it’s you it dislikes.”

You laugh, reaching for his hand as your friends chuckle, finally starting to understand his strange charm. “Exactly,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze.

Ororon gives a satisfied hum, his eyes meeting yours. “See? Nature understands us well.” And in that moment, your friends see how the quiet humor of this eccentric man makes him so dear to you.

Sitting on a rooftop overlooking the stars, your friends are still trying to wrap their heads around your choice. “Dainsleif? Really? What do you see in him?” one asks skeptically.

Dainsleif

You smile softly, reflecting on your experiences. “He makes me laugh.”

Your friends look puzzled. “But he’s so serious and mysterious!”

You recall a late night when you were stargazing together. He had shared tales of his travels and then abruptly said, “In the end, I find that stars are just like people. Some are bright, some are dim, and some are just… lost.” Then, after a pause, he added with a straight face, “But at least they all shine, even if it’s just for a moment.”

You had burst into laughter at his unexpected metaphor, and he’d turned to you, a hint of confusion in his eyes as he asked, “Is that amusing?”

You nod, a warm smile on your face. “Yes! It’s all about perspective with you.”

Your friends nod, starting to see the appeal. “Okay, that’s a bit poetic.”

Dainsleif, overhearing the conversation, walks over with an amused look. “If my musings provide amusement, then perhaps I should share more.”

You grin. “Please do! We could all use a little more humor.”

.

.

.

Masterlist

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Falling for the Sun in a Cold Empire || Kalim Al-Asim

You lose everything you've worked after getting transported to the novel that you read when you were a teenager after a freak accident. As the villainess.

It's time to rebuild yourself, one step at a time with a little help from Kalim Al-Asim, your betrothed.

This one isn't as silly as the rest, I hope y'all still like it

Other parts in this series: Vil ; Riddle ; Lilia ; Malleus ; Azul ; Leona ; Idia ; Jamil

The bar was bustling with the lively sounds of clinking glasses, laughter, and music. It was the kind of place that invited camaraderie, a perfect spot for celebrating the latest success your team had pulled off. You were surrounded by your colleagues, all in high spirits. The project you had all worked tirelessly on had finally paid off, and the sense of accomplishment was almost palpable.

Someone had insisted on buying another round, and before you knew it, shots were being passed around. You weren't normally one to indulge too much, but tonight was an exception. After all the stress and sleepless nights, you deserved to relax a little.

“Cheers to us!” someone shouted, and everyone raised their glasses, laughter rippling through the group.

You smiled, genuinely feeling the warmth of the moment. There was something about the shared joy of victory that made the exhaustion worthwhile. You took a sip of your drink, eyes drifting across the room to see your colleagues—people who had become something like a second family over the months of grueling work.

But then you noticed one of your colleagues.

He looked like someone who’d already had a bit too much, was stumbling his way towards the exit, mumbling something about needing fresh air. His unsteady gait set off alarm bells in your mind, and without a second thought, you set your drink down and quickly followed after him.

“Hey!” you called out, catching up to him just as he pushed open the heavy door to the outside. The cool night air hit your face, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the bar. “You okay, man? Maybe you should sit down for a bit.”

He waved you off, a lopsided grin on his face. “Nah, I’m fine! Just need… air,” he slurred, his steps veering towards the curb.

You frowned, reaching out to grab his arm gently. “Come on, let’s get you back inside. It’s not safe—”

Suddenly, he pulled away, stumbling further into the road. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The flash of headlights, the blaring horn, his eyes widening in confusion as the truck bore down on him.

Your body moved on instinct. Without thinking, you lunged forward, shoving your colleague out of the way. The last thing you heard was the deafening screech of tires, the rush of adrenaline flooding your veins as the realization hit.

There was no time to move.

The impact came with a force that stole your breath, pain radiating through your body before everything went dark.

The world faded away, the laughter and warmth of the bar replaced by an all-encompassing silence.

You woke up slowly, the world around you blurred and unfamiliar. There was an ache in your body, a heavy sort of weariness that made every small movement a struggle. You blinked, trying to clear your vision, your head pounding as if it was caught between a vice.

The first thing you noticed was the ceiling. It was wooden, beams running across it, the kind of architecture that seemed straight out of a period drama. You frowned, your eyes narrowing in confusion.

Where were you? This wasn’t the hospital—there were no sterile white walls, no beeping monitors. And the bed… It was hard, almost uncomfortably so, and you could feel the scratchy fabric of the sheets beneath you.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up, the unfamiliar weight of the clothes you were wearing making you pause. They were heavy, the fabric rough against your skin. You looked down, taking in the sight of the dress you were wearing—long, old-fashioned, and visibly worn. The sleeves were frayed, and the fabric itself looked like it had seen better days, like something out of a historical novel.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, your bare feet touching the cold wooden floor. The room around you was small, cramped, the furniture sparse and outdated. It was then that you noticed the mirror hanging crookedly on the wall. You stood, your legs shaky beneath you, and made your way towards it.

The face staring back at you wasn’t your own.

You swallowed, your heart thudding painfully in your chest as you took in the unfamiliar features—the pale skin, the hollow eyes, the face that looked almost gaunt. The realization settled in slowly, the pieces falling into place with a horrible sort of clarity. You knew this face. You knew these clothes, this room, the aching feeling that lingered in your chest.

It was the face of a character from a novel you had read as a teenager. A tragic, doomed villainess—one whose story had always stayed with you, not because of her actions but because of the injustice of it all. She was a character meant to suffer, her only role to push the heroine into her journey. She was used, discarded, her death nothing more than a footnote in the protagonist's story. The villainess with a cruel fate, a pawn in the hands of those more powerful, destined to be cast aside the moment her usefulness ran out.

You felt a chill settle in your bones, your body sinking back onto the edge of the bed as the weight of your new reality hit you. This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t some fleeting nightmare you could wake up from. You were here—stuck in the body of a character whose life was nothing but misery.

Everything you had worked for—your career, your friendships, the life you had painstakingly built for yourself—was gone. All the late nights, the hard-earned successes, the laughter with friends over drinks—all of it was gone in an instant, replaced by a fate you wouldn’t wish on anyone.

The hopelessness of it all settled in, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest. There was no future for this character, no way out. She was meant to suffer, to be used and discarded, and no matter how much you wanted to fight it, to believe that you could change it, a part of you knew the truth.

You were powerless here.

You buried your face in your hands, a shuddering breath escaping your lips. You wanted to cry, to scream, to demand answers. But there was no one here to answer you, no one who would care even if they could. You were alone, in a story that had already decided your fate.

The tragic villainess—the role you were now forced to play.

And you couldn’t help but feel the crushing weight of despair.

After coming to terms with your new reality, you made a decision. You couldn’t afford to be a passive character in this story, waiting for the inevitable to crush you. If you were going to live in this world, then you would fight for it, rewrite the narrative, and carve out a future for yourself—even if that meant playing a role that no one expected of you.

The first challenge came at home. The character you possessed had a father—a lazy, indifferent man who spent his days drinking, oblivious to the decay of his household. The family was in debt, the estate falling apart, and the few servants left were more interested in lining their pockets than doing their jobs. You took a deep breath, refusing to be overwhelmed by the enormity of the task. One step at a time.

You started with the estate. You reviewed the books, fired the corrupt staff who had been bleeding your family dry, and brought in trustworthy people to take their place. It wasn’t easy—there were threats, and more than a few people tried to intimidate you into silence. But you had faced challenges before in your old life, and even in this new one, you weren’t about to be cowed.

Slowly, things began to change. The estate began to recover, the debts lessened, and the people who worked for you started to believe in you. You gained a reputation—first as a shrewd manager, then as someone who could be relied on to get things done. You built relationships, carefully navigating the intricacies of this world’s social dynamics. It wasn’t long before the local nobles started to take notice.

Your father, indifferent and content with his habits, became less of an obstacle as you quietly took over the responsibilities of your household. You made connections, attended social events, and gradually climbed the ranks. It was exhausting, demanding work, but every success fueled your determination.

Then came the opportunity that changed everything. A crisis in the kingdom required volunteers, and you stepped forward—a move that shocked those around you. A woman, much less a former disgraced noble, didn’t typically take on such a role. But you had no intention of following the rules laid out for you. You worked hard, proving your capability on the battlefield, earning respect not only for your strategic mind but also for your courage.

Eventually, you were knighted—a Dame of the kingdom, an honor that would have seemed impossible not long ago. It was followed by an offer to serve as a general. You accepted, knowing that with power came the opportunity to change your fate and secure a future free from the shackles of the tragic story you had once read.

The war that came next was brutal. You spent months on the frontlines, leading your soldiers through grueling battles. The weight of command was heavy; lives depended on you, and the decisions you made could mean the difference between victory and death. But you faced it all with a determination forged from your past life, a refusal to be anything less than victorious. You strategized, fought alongside your troops, and inspired them to fight harder.

In the end, you won. The kingdom's enemies were driven back, and you returned home not as the villainess destined for tragedy but as a war hero. The people cheered as you passed through the streets, and for the first time since you arrived in this world, you felt something other than fear and despair. You had fought, you had survived, and you had won.

The nobles who had once looked down on you were forced to recognize your accomplishments, and the people who once whispered about your family’s disgrace now spoke of your triumphs. You had rewritten the story, taken a character destined for misery and given her a new path—one forged by your own hands.

But even in victory, you knew the dangers of complacency. The story was far from over, and though you had managed to change your fate thus far, there were still challenges ahead. The heroine of the original story had yet to make her appearance, and the narrative that had once doomed you was still a threat.

But for now, you allowed yourself a moment to breathe, to take in the sight of the city you had fought to protect. You had climbed higher than anyone had expected, and you were determined not to fall. You had built something new—something that was yours. And you would fight to keep it, no matter what came next.

But along the way, you’d lost something essential. The joy, the ambition, the passion that had once driven you was gone. You’d become cold, hardened by the betrayals you’d faced. Even the people closest to you turned out to be disloyal.

The most painful betrayal was from a soldier you had trusted with your life—someone you had fought beside in war. He had been leaking information to the enemy, and you were forced to execute him with your own hand. His treachery cut deeper than any wound you had suffered in battle.

Your butler, a kind old man who had become something of a father figure to you, noticed the change. He often tried to cheer you up, suggesting suitors and hosting lavish events, but none of it worked. The eligible bachelors and bachelorettes who came your way were only interested in your title and wealth, not you. You became cynical, distrustful, and your butler could only watch in sadness as the vibrant person you once were faded away.

It didn’t help that you had made powerful enemies. The first prince, who you had fought beside during the war, had proposed to you.

The grand hall of the imperial palace was buzzing with the energy of the noble elite, all gathered to witness the unprecedented moment. You stood at the forefront of the room, the golden imperial crest behind you shimmering in the light of hundreds of candles.

The emperor himself had just awarded you the title of Grand Duchess, a feat no woman had ever achieved before. The applause was thunderous, the murmurs of awe and envy swirling through the crowd like a current.

You stood tall, your posture regal, even though the weight of the moment pressed down on you like a heavy crown. You’d worked for years to get here, fighting both on the battlefield and in the political arena, your every victory hard-earned.

It should’ve been a moment of triumph. And yet, the expression on the emperor’s face, tight and thin-lipped, warned you that this celebration wasn’t going to end on a pleasant note.

Sure enough, the moment the formalities ended, the first prince took a step forward. His crimson military uniform was pristine, medals gleaming on his chest, but the shine didn’t reach his eyes. You’d fought beside him during the war, seen his cowardice firsthand, and his presence already had your stomach turning.

He cleared his throat, and the hall fell into silence. The crowd’s attention shifted to him, eyes wide with anticipation. A royal prince proposing to the empire’s new Grand Duchess? It was the kind of spectacle they lived for.

“Grand Duchess,” he began, his voice booming with the kind of arrogance that only a man born into power could possess, “your bravery and accomplishments have brought great honor to this empire. You have achieved more than any woman before you, and it would be my honor to have you by my side.”

You felt your blood run cold. Oh, you knew this was coming. It had been whispered through the halls of the palace since the day you returned from the front lines—the cowardly prince, had been seeking to marry you and elevate his own standing. You’d avoided it until now, but it seemed the time for subtlety was over. He had chosen this moment, in front of the entire nobility, to make his move.

The prince knelt before you, reaching into his pocket to produce a ring—a garish thing, oversized and glittering with a ridiculous number of diamonds. The kind of ring that screamed, look at me, I’m important, but utterly lacked any true beauty. He held it up to you, the crowd around you gasping in unison.

“I ask for your hand in marriage, Grand Duchess,” he declared, his voice filled with artificial charm. “Together, we will rule this empire as the most powerful couple in history.”

You stared down at him, your jaw clenched so tight it was a wonder you didn’t break a tooth. Your mind raced as you felt the weight of every eye in the room on you. They were waiting for you to swoon, to accept, to submit to the prince’s advances like some simpering debutante.

But you? You were no ordinary noblewoman, no pawn in the empire’s political games. You had fought for this title, bled for it, earned it in ways he could never understand. And there was no way in hell you were going to let yourself be reduced to a mere accessory to this man’s weak, cowardly ambition.

Taking a deep breath, you looked down at the prince—this spoiled, useless man who thought his status alone could make up for his lack of character—and something inside you snapped.

“Marry you?” you repeated, your voice clear and cold, echoing through the hall. The prince’s smile wavered, and murmurs began to ripple through the audience.

You stepped forward, your voice rising with a sharp edge. “You think I would ever marry someone like you? A man who cowered behind his soldiers in battle, who fled at the first sign of danger? A man who abandoned his comrades, left them to die while he ran to save his own skin?”

The crowd gasped, the sound a collective intake of shock. his face flushed with embarrassment, but you weren’t done.

“I would rather marry a toad,” you continued, your voice dripping with scorn, “than be tied to a man as spineless and pathetic as you.”

The hall fell into a stunned silence. the prince's face went from red to ashen, his hand still frozen in place, holding that absurd ring. He opened his mouth, sputtering, but no words came out. He hadn’t expected this—no one had.

You could feel the weight of the empire’s gaze on you, but it didn’t matter. You were no longer just the Grand Duchess. You were something far more dangerous: a woman who had the power to defy the expectations of an entire empire.

“You would do well,” you said, your voice dropping to a deadly calm, “to remember that I earned this title. Not by birthright. Not by marriage. But by merit. And I’ll be damned if I ever let someone like you take that from me.”

With that, you turned your back on him, the prince still kneeling, humiliated in front of the empire’s most powerful. The nobles around you stood in stunned silence, some daring to whisper amongst themselves, while others watched in awe, as if witnessing a force of nature in human form.

As you walked away from the proposal, your eyes met the emperor’s. His face was unreadable, but there was a glint in his eyes—a silent acknowledgment that you had just done something no one else would have dared. You had broken the rules of this world, and the repercussions would be felt for years to come.

But you didn’t care. You were done playing their games.

Let them try and tame you. You had made it this far on your own, and you weren’t about to let anyone—least of all a toad in princely clothing—stand in your way.

The day had started like any other—a grey, somber morning draped in the quiet monotony you had come to know. The Grand Duchess’s estate was immaculate, polished to perfection, reflecting the cold and unyielding nature of its owner.

You moved through the day with the same precision as ever, going through endless meetings, signing off on reports, handling political maneuvers with the finesse of a seasoned war general. Yet, beneath it all, the hollowness remained.

Until that afternoon.

A delegation from the Scalding Sands had arrived, their colorful caravans contrasting sharply with the muted grandeur of your estate. You had heard they were coming—a diplomatic mission of sorts—and while you didn’t expect much from it, the formalities had to be observed. It was part of your role now, after all.

You stood at the grand entrance, waiting as the doors swung open to reveal the visiting party. A small group of advisors and servants stepped in first, but then your eyes fell on the young man leading them.

Kalim Al-Asim, heir to the most prominent merchant family in the Scalding Sands.

Dressed in vibrant silks, Kalim practically radiated joy. His bright eyes shone with unfiltered excitement, and his smile was wide, carefree, as if he was about to greet an old friend instead of a war-hardened Duchess. His enthusiasm was…disarming, to say the least.

“Grand Duchess!” Kalim called out the moment he spotted you, practically bouncing as he approached. “It’s an honor to finally meet you! Your reputation precedes you—everyone’s been talking about how amazing you are!”

You blinked, taken aback by his unabashed warmth. No one had spoken to you like that in years—so casual, so genuine. Most nobles approached you with caution, fear even, carefully curating their words to avoid upsetting the ice-cold facade you’d been forced to build. But Kalim? He had no such hesitations.

You inclined your head, keeping your tone measured. “Lord Al-Asim, welcome to my estate. I trust your journey was smooth?”

“Oh, it was fantastic! The weather was perfect, and we got to see so many beautiful sights on the way here! Your countryside is amazing—so green! Nothing like back home.” He beamed at you, his energy practically infectious. “I brought some gifts too! We have spices, silks, and a bunch of other stuff from home that I think you’ll love.”

As he rattled off the list of things he brought, you found yourself…listening. Actually listening, instead of mechanically going through the motions. There was something about his unfiltered excitement that was strangely comforting. It had been so long since anyone had spoken to you like this, without calculation or hidden motives.

“I appreciate the thought,” you replied, a small flicker of something unfamiliar stirring in your chest. “I’ll have the servants take care of the gifts. Please, come inside.”

He entered the estate like a burst of sunlight, his presence immediately brightening the space. As the servants guided his entourage to their rooms, you walked alongside him, pointing out some of the estate’s features. Kalim seemed utterly fascinated by everything.

“Wow, this place is incredible!” Kalim exclaimed as they passed through the gallery. His eyes wandered over the portraits lining the walls, the tapestries depicting your family’s history. “It’s so different from back home. You must be so proud to live here.”

Pride? You hadn’t felt pride in anything for a long time. Your estate, your title—it was all just the result of relentless hard work, the endless climb to the top. But you had never stopped to admire it. To feel pride in what you’d built.

Still, you nodded, keeping your face composed. “It serves its purpose.”

Kalim gave you a curious glance. “You know, it sounds like you’re talking about a sword instead of your home.”

A sword. That’s what your life had been, hadn’t it? A weapon, sharp and unyielding, forged in battle, cutting down every obstacle in its path. But now, with Kalim’s innocent comment, you wondered—was that all it was?

Before you could respond, Kalim suddenly paused in front of one of the massive windows overlooking the gardens. The view was breathtaking, the autumn leaves casting the scene in warm, golden hues.

“Hey, look!” Kalim pointed excitedly. “Your garden! It’s so beautiful this time of year. Do you ever just sit out there and enjoy it?”

You blinked again. Enjoy it? The idea seemed foreign, almost absurd. But then, looking at Kalim’s wide, hopeful eyes, you found yourself saying, “No… I don’t.”

Kalim turned to you, that same sunny grin never leaving his face. “You should! I mean, you’ve worked so hard, right? You deserve to enjoy the little things too.”

His words caught you off guard. You’d forgotten what it felt like to enjoy anything.

But then, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, a faint smile tugged at your lips. It was small, barely noticeable, but it was there.

The maids and butlers who had been quietly observing from the corners of the room nearly gasped. One of them—your head butler, who had served you since the day you first took over your family’s estate—actually dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief, looking as though he might burst into tears.

“D-Duchess…!” one of the younger maids whispered, her voice filled with wonder. “She’s smiling…”

You caught sight of the butler’s reaction and, for a moment, you almost laughed. It was such a strange sight—your stoic, stern staff, so moved by something as simple as a smile.

Kalim noticed it too, tilting his head curiously. “Why’s everyone so emotional?”

You shook your head, a soft chuckle escaping before you could stop it. “I suppose they’re not used to seeing me… enjoy myself.”

Kalim’s grin widened, his eyes practically sparkling. “Well, then, I guess we’ll have to change that! It’s about time you had some fun, right?”

You didn’t answer right away, but for the first time in years, something inside you—something long buried under layers of responsibility, grief, and betrayal—began to stir.

Perhaps he was right.

Perhaps it was time for you to remember what it felt like to live again.

The grand ballroom was a sea of glittering gowns and tailored suits, filled with nobles and dignitaries who moved gracefully across the floor, their laughter and chatter blending with the soft music from the orchestra.

You stood at the edge of the room, as you always did during these events, keeping a careful distance from the festivities. These gatherings were necessary, of course—an unavoidable part of your role—but that didn’t mean you enjoyed them.

You took a sip of the champagne in your hand, your eyes scanning the room with practiced detachment. As always, you were observing—watching the faces, reading the subtle exchanges of power and influence happening between the guests.

The weight of your title hung heavy on your shoulders, a constant reminder of the responsibilities you bore. Even here, surrounded by laughter and music, you felt that familiar distance, the wall you had built around yourself growing ever higher.

It wasn’t until you noticed the flash of bright colors weaving through the crowd that your attention shifted. Kalim Al-Asim, as vibrant as ever, was making his way through the ballroom, greeting guests with his usual exuberance.

His silks shimmered in the soft candlelight, his wide grin impossible to miss. He moved with an ease that most nobles envied, free from the stifling formality that seemed to bind everyone else.

And then, as if sensing your gaze, his eyes found yours. His face lit up with recognition, and without hesitation, he started toward you.

“Oh, there you are!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement as he reached your side. “I’ve been looking all over for you! Isn’t this ball amazing? The music, the lights, the people—it’s all so lively!”

You gave him a polite nod, your usual reserved expression in place. “It’s certainly… lively.”

Kalim laughed, clearly not picking up on your lack of enthusiasm. “You’re always so serious! You should join in the fun, you know! This kind of thing doesn’t happen every day.”

Before you could respond, he held out his hand to you, his eyes sparkling with genuine excitement. “Dance with me!”

The request caught you off guard, and you instinctively took a step back, shaking your head. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t dance.”

Kalim tilted his head, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Come on! You can’t say no to a party like this! Everyone’s having such a good time—you should too.”

You opened your mouth to refuse again, but the look in his eyes stopped you. There was no expectation, no hidden motive—just the same infectious joy he carried with him everywhere he went. And for a moment, you hesitated, feeling something stir inside you. When was the last time you’d allowed yourself to have fun? To do something as simple as dance?

Still, old habits were hard to break. “I’m not exactly one for dancing,” you replied, trying to maintain your composure.

But Kalim wasn’t deterred. “That’s okay! You don’t have to be good at it—you just have to enjoy it!” He took your hand, his grip warm and inviting. “Please? Just one dance?”

There was something so sincere in his request, so full of hope, that you found yourself nodding before you could think better of it.

Kalim’s face lit up with delight, and without wasting a moment, he led you out onto the dance floor. The room seemed to blur around you as he took your hand in his, guiding you into the rhythm of the music. His movements were far from graceful, but they were full of life, and you couldn’t help but be swept along by his energy.

At first, you were stiff, your posture as rigid as ever, but Kalim’s enthusiasm was contagious. He spun you around with such glee that you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, the sound surprising even to yourself. Kalim grinned at you, clearly thrilled that he had coaxed a smile from you.

“See? You’re already having fun!” he said brightly.

And he was right. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you weren’t thinking about the politics of the room, the weight of your title, or the endless responsibilities waiting for you. For this brief moment, you were just… dancing. Letting go. Enjoying yourself.

As the music swelled, Kalim twirled you again, his laughter mixing with the sounds of the ballroom. The two of you were out of step with the rest of the dancers, your movements more playful than elegant, but you didn’t care. Neither did Kalim. He didn’t care about appearances or expectations—he just wanted you to be happy, and for this one dance, you let him succeed.

Around you, the other guests had begun to notice. Whispers passed between them, astonished gazes following your every move. The Grand Duchess—stoic, untouchable—laughing and dancing with such abandon was something no one had ever expected to see. Your knights, stationed at the edge of the ballroom, exchanged incredulous glances, unable to believe what they were witnessing.

“She’s dancing…” one of them murmured, barely audible. “And she’s smiling.”

Your head butler, who had been hovering nearby as always, watched with misty eyes. “This… this is a day for the history books,” he whispered, dabbing at his face with a handkerchief.

You could feel their eyes on you, the shock rippling through the room, but for once, you didn’t care. In this moment, you allowed yourself to be free, to laugh, to dance, to let go of the weight that had been pressing down on you for so long.

As the song came to an end, Kalim pulled you into one final twirl, his grin as wide as ever. When the music stopped, you found yourself breathless but… lighter. For the first time in years, you felt a spark of something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Joy.

Kalim beamed at you, clearly proud of himself. “See? I told you it’d be fun!”

You shook your head, unable to stop the small smile that lingered on your lips. “You are… impossible, Kalim.”

He laughed, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ll take that as a compliment!”

As you returned to your spot at the edge of the room, the music starting up again for the next dance, you realized that something had changed. Kalim had reminded you of something you had long forgotten—that it was okay to enjoy yourself. That even someone like you, burdened with the weight of leadership, could allow herself a moment of happiness.

And maybe, just maybe, you could allow yourself more moments like this.

The night after the ball had been long and arduous, and you were ready to retreat into the sanctuary of your chambers. The walls of your estate, which had once felt like a fortress, now felt suffocating as you tried to quiet the noise in your mind.

The forced smiles, the veiled threats, the insidious whispers among the nobility—they were all routine by now, but they weighed heavier tonight.

As you reached for the door to your private quarters, a sharp knock echoed through the hallway. One of your servants stepped forward, their face pale, eyes lowered in deference.

"The Emperor has summoned you, Grand Duchess."

Your fingers froze on the door handle. The Emperor? At this hour?

Though dread prickled at your skin, you squared your shoulders and strode down the hall toward the imperial throne room. The Emperor wasn’t one for idle conversation; this was bound to be more than a simple debrief after the ball.

The grand doors to the throne room loomed before you, and with a nod from the guards, they creaked open to reveal the Emperor seated on his throne. He was draped in the finest clothes, his presence radiating authority, but there was something sharper in his gaze tonight. The first prince, stood off to the side, arms crossed, a triumphant smirk barely hidden behind his princely facade.

You stepped into the room, head held high. You wouldn’t show weakness, not here. Not in front of them.

"Your Majesty," you greeted, voice steady.

The Emperor wasted no time. “Grand Duchess, tonight’s events have caused quite a stir.” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes hard as stone. “Your rejection of the First Prince in such a public manner has… complicated things.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a suffocating blanket. You clenched your fists but remained silent, waiting for him to reveal his true intention.

He sighed, a sound heavy with pretense. “The nobility is divided, and the Empire cannot afford instability. You have two choices before you.”

Your eyes flickered towards the first prince, who was barely containing his glee. You already knew what was coming.

“Marry the first prince and strengthen your position within the royal family.” The Emperor's voice was calm, deliberate. “Or, if that does not suit you…” He paused for effect, his gaze hardening as if daring you to defy him. “Marry Kalim Al-Asim and solidify our diplomatic alliance with the Scalding Sands.”

The room felt as though it had tilted. You knew this was coming, yet hearing the words spoken aloud felt like a slap across the face. “And if I refuse both?” you asked, voice colder than ice.

The Emperor’s eyes narrowed. “Then I will have no choice but to imprison you for defying royal decree.” He leaned back into his throne, fingers tapping on the armrest. “You’ve served this empire well, but even you are not above the law.”

Your heart thundered in your chest, fury bubbling just beneath your skin. You, who had rebuilt "your" family’s estate, who had served the empire with every drop of blood and sweat you had to give—this was your reward? An ultimatum. Marry a prince who disgusted you, or chain yourself to Kalim, someone who was the antithesis of everything you had become.

You felt your lips curl into a grim smile. “So those are my choices. A cowardly prince or shackling Kalim to someone like me—a shell of a person who’s long forgotten how to live.” The bitterness in your voice was unmistakable.

Kalim, who had been standing nearby, watching the exchange, finally stepped forward. His face was still lit with that ever-present smile, though softer now, and he didn’t seem rattled in the slightest by the gravity of the situation. “I mean… I wouldn’t mind.”

You turned to him, incredulous. What?

Kalim laughed lightly, scratching the back of his head, his tone still as carefree as ever. “I’d be happy if it’s you. Really. Out of anyone in this empire, I’d rather be with someone strong and capable like you than some stranger who doesn’t even care.” His eyes were warm, completely sincere. There wasn’t a trace of fear or doubt in his words. “Plus, you’re pretty amazing! You’ve done so much for your estate, your people... I think you’re really cool!”

For a moment, just a brief moment, your raging heart stilled.

Kalim had no idea what kind of burden this marriage would be for him. You weren’t the person you once were. The years had hardened you, chipped away at the softness, leaving only the cold, sharp edges behind. Yet here he was, smiling, accepting the situation with an ease that made you wonder how he could be so unaffected.

You swallowed hard, your anger at the Emperor still simmering, but Kalim’s words had softened the blow. This wasn’t about him. He wasn’t the one forcing you into this corner. If anything, he was as much a pawn as you were.

But that didn’t mean you would accept this quietly.

You turned back to the Emperor, the cold fire in your eyes unmistakable. “Very well,” you said, voice calm but laced with venom. “I’ll marry Kalim if that is what you demand.” You took a step forward, your gaze piercing through the Emperor. “But rest assured, Your Majesty, this humiliation will not go unanswered. I may be bound by your decree, but you will regret underestimating me.”

The Emperor raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but unimpressed. “Is that a threat, Grand Duchess?”

You smiled, slow and dangerous. “A promise.”

With that, you turned on your heel, your decision made. Kalim followed you without hesitation, his steps light and unburdened.

And as you left the imperial throne room, you couldn’t help but glance at him from the corner of your eye. Kalim was smiling still, bright and carefree, as if nothing had changed.

Maybe—just maybe—you would survive this ordeal with a little less bitterness than you’d expected.

But the Emperor? He wouldn’t escape unscathed. You would make sure of that.

The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of your manor, casting a warm, golden light across the room as you stood in the foyer. Kalim’s people from the Scalding Sands were preparing to depart, their vibrant, colorful robes a stark contrast to the colder tones of your estate.

You watched as they bustled about, gathering their things, saying their goodbyes, and it was a strange feeling—this sudden departure of the warmth they had brought with them.

Kalim was chatting excitedly with his entourage, gesturing wildly as he recounted some tale or another. His boundless energy had not dulled, despite the situation. You wondered how someone could remain so cheerful even in the face of such an uncertain future.

One of the senior members of Kalim’s delegation approached you, bowing deeply. “Grand Duchess, we are honored by your hospitality and your graciousness in this… unexpected engagement.” He glanced at Kalim with a fond, yet slightly exasperated look. “But our duties call us back to the Scalding Sands. We regret we cannot stay longer.”

You nodded, your expression softening slightly. “You are always welcome to stay in my manor for as long as you like. Consider it an apology for the empire’s… difficult circumstances.” The words didn’t come easily, but you meant them. You hadn’t missed how awkward the situation was for them—dragged into imperial politics without much say in the matter.

The advisor looked touched, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he bowed even deeper. “Your kindness is greatly appreciated, Grand Duchess. But, alas, we must return. We have duties to fulfill back home. Our people rely on us.”

You nodded in understanding, casting a glance at Kalim, who was still busy waving goodbye to his people. “I understand. Do what you must.”

The group finished their farewells and began filing out of the estate, leaving only one person behind—Jamil, Kalim’s loyal aide, who stood with his arms crossed, looking as calm and composed as ever.

Kalim turned to you with his usual bright smile, waving at his departing entourage. “Looks like it’s just us now!”

“And Jamil,” you added dryly.

Jamil gave a polite nod. “Of course, Grand Duchess. I will remain at Kalim’s side as always.”

You offered Jamil a brief nod before turning your attention back to Kalim. “I hope the manor is to your liking. It will likely feel different without your people around.”

Kalim beamed, completely unfazed. “Are you kidding? This place is amazing! Plus, I’ve made some new friends already.”

You raised an eyebrow. “New friends?”

At that moment, the door to the kitchen swung open, and a trio of your staff—two maids and your head butler—rushed into the room, their arms filled with notepads. They hovered around Kalim, their expressions a mix of admiration and excitement.

“Lord Al-Asim,” one of the maids began eagerly, “could you tell us again how you made the Grand Duchess laugh yesterday? We’d like to take notes.”

Kalim’s face lit up even more, if that was possible. “Oh, sure! So, I was just talking about how much I love riding on magic carpets and how one time, I almost flew straight into a flock of flamingos. You should’ve seen the feathers everywhere!” He burst into laughter, and the staff furiously scribbled in their notepads.

You stood there, blinking, utterly dumbfounded. You knew Kalim had a way of getting people to like him, but this? This was something else. You caught sight of your head butler, who was listening intently, nodding along as if Kalim were revealing some great secret to unlocking your happiness.

Kalim, noticing your expression, turned toward you with a huge grin. “See? I told you! They’re really interested in learning how to make you smile more!”

You couldn’t help it—a soft laugh escaped your lips. It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Your estate, so accustomed to the stoic and rigid demeanor you carried, was now filled with your maids and butlers eagerly taking tips from a young merchant heir about how to bring joy into your life.

Your head butler gasped at the sound of your laugh, immediately dabbing at his eyes with his handkerchief. “The Grand Duchess… she laughed again!” His voice quivered with emotion, and the younger maid next to him looked ready to burst into tears as well.

This time, you couldn’t stop yourself. You laughed—genuinely, fully, for the first time in what felt like years. The absurdity of it all, the sight of your normally stone-faced butler shedding tears of joy over something so simple, was too much.

Kalim, of course, laughed along with you, completely at ease. “See? It’s not so hard!”

You shook your head, still chuckling as you looked at him. “You’re impossible, Kalim.”

He grinned, clearly proud of himself. “Hey, as long as you’re smiling, I’m doing something right!”

You glanced over at your butler, who was now openly weeping into his handkerchief. “Please, calm down. You’re making a scene.”

But the butler only waved a hand dramatically, unable to compose himself. “It is… a joy to witness such a thing, Grand Duchess. A joy I never thought I would see in my lifetime.”

You rolled your eyes, though a smile lingered on your lips. “Honestly…”

Kalim, still grinning from ear to ear, looked at you with a warmth that, for just a moment, eased the tension that had been building in your chest since the engagement was announced. Though the situation was far from ideal, and though you still had plans to make the Emperor regret his actions, Kalim’s presence—his boundless energy and optimism—was like a ray of sunlight breaking through the storm clouds that had surrounded you for so long.

And maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

<hr>

The bustling market was alive with the sights and sounds of your people going about their day—vendors calling out their wares, children running between the stalls, the smell of freshly baked bread and roasted meats filling the air. It had been years since you last visited the market like this, blending in with the common folk, and you were struck by how much had changed since you were younger. The town had grown, thriving under your rule, and though you were always kept informed of the state of your territory, seeing it firsthand was a different experience altogether.

Beside you, Kalim was practically vibrating with excitement. His eyes sparkled as he took in the vibrant displays of food, crafts, and goods, his smile as wide as ever. “Wow! This place is amazing! Look at all these stalls!” He dashed ahead, marveling at the colorful array of goods, his enthusiasm as infectious as ever.

You couldn’t help but smile at his energy, though you maintained your usual composed demeanor. “This market is one of the oldest in the region. It’s a center of trade, and many of the local families have been running their stalls for generations.”

Kalim turned to you, eyes bright with admiration. “Your people look so happy! I knew you were an amazing ruler, but seeing this with my own eyes? It’s incredible! You’ve built something really special here.”

There was a warmth in his words that caught you off guard, and for a moment, you found yourself lost in thought. You had always worked hard for your people, but you rarely took the time to reflect on how much you had accomplished. Hearing it from someone like Kalim—someone who was so honest and open in his praise—made it feel different, more personal.

He suddenly grabbed your hand, pulling you toward a food stall where a vendor was grilling skewers of seasoned meat. “Hey, we’ve gotta try some of this!” Kalim exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement. “It smells so good!”

The vendor, a stout older man with a friendly smile, bowed as he recognized you. “Grand Duchess! It is an honor to serve you today. Would you like to try one of our specialties?”

You nodded, taking in the scent of the sizzling food. “I’ll have two, please.”

The vendor handed you two skewers, and you turned to Kalim, offering him one. “Here, try this.”

Without a second thought, Kalim leaned in and took a bite right from the skewer you were holding, grinning up at you as he chewed. “Mmm! This is delicious!” His face lit up in delight, and he barely waited to swallow before he added, “You have to try some too!”

Before you could react, Kalim held his own skewer up to you, expecting you to do the same. The casualness of the gesture—the ease with which he shared his food—made you pause. It had been so long since anyone had treated you like this, without the usual formality or hesitation. Almost on instinct, you leaned in and took a small bite.

The flavor was rich, the spices perfectly balanced, but it wasn’t the food that had your attention. No, it was the way Kalim was watching you, his expression full of warmth and joy, as if this simple moment meant the world to him.

Your face warmed slightly, and before you could stop yourself, you realized you were blushing.

Behind you, you heard a sharp intake of breath from one of your knights, who had been quietly trailing after you. “Did… did the Grand Duchess just blush?” one of them whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with astonishment.

Another knight, equally stunned, gasped. “She did! I saw it! She actually blushed!”

You turned to glare at your knights, trying to regain your composure. “Enough,” you said sharply, though your flustered tone betrayed you. “Focus on your duties.”

But your knights were having none of it. One of them, a young woman with a mischievous glint in her eye, exchanged glances with her comrades before whispering, “Did you see how casual she was with him? They’re feeding each other like a couple!”

Another knight, eyes wide with excitement, chimed in. “I can’t believe this! The Grand Duchess… flustered by her fiancé? It’s like we’re in a romance novel!”

You shot them another look, but Kalim, completely oblivious to the whispers and side glances, just laughed, offering you more of his skewer. “Here, have some more! You look like you liked it!”

Your heart raced at the simple, kind gesture, and though you wanted to maintain your icy composure, something about Kalim’s sincerity made it impossible to stay guarded. You took another bite, feeling your face grow even warmer as your knights barely contained their squeals of excitement.

One of the senior knights, trying to remain composed but failing miserably, muttered, “This is the happiest I’ve ever seen her. Lord Al-Asim is working miracles.”

“I know!” another knight whispered excitedly. “We should take notes! Maybe we can keep her in a good mood if we learn from him.”

The absurdity of it all—the idea of your battle-hardened knights taking pointers from Kalim on how to make you smile—was too much. You couldn’t help it; a soft, genuine laugh escaped your lips.

You sighed, shaking your head as Kalim smiled up at you, completely unaware of the chaos he had just caused. “You really are impossible, Kalim.”

Kalim grinned, completely at ease. “Hey, as long as you’re happy, I’m doing something right!”

For the first time in a long while, surrounded by the people you’d worked so hard to protect and with Kalim at your side, you felt a genuine lightness in your heart. Maybe this wasn’t the life you had planned, but for now, in this moment, it didn’t seem so bad.

From the moment Kalim Al-Asim first stepped into your estate, he could feel the weight of the world pressing down on you. It wasn’t something you said or did—if anything, you were composed, graceful, carrying yourself with the kind of authority that made people hesitate before speaking to you.

No, it was something deeper, something in the way your shoulders were always so tense, the way your eyes seemed to hold a kind of tiredness that went beyond just physical exhaustion.

Kalim wasn’t blind to his own shortcomings. He wasn’t the smartest guy—he knew that. He’d been told as much more times than he could count. People often saw him as naive, too happy-go-lucky for the responsibilities placed on his shoulders.

That’s what Jamil was for, after all, to cover for his inadequacies and ensure that things went smoothly. Kalim didn’t mind. He trusted Jamil more than anyone, and he knew his limits.

But when he met you, something shifted inside him.

At first, it was just awe. You were the Grand Duchess, after all—the person everyone talked about. A ruler who had risen to power not by birthright but through sheer will and skill.

You had this aura of strength around you, like a shield. But Kalim could see the cracks in that armor, the way the weight of your responsibilities was crushing you, little by little. And it hurt to see.

He’d expected you to be cold, maybe even harsh, like so many nobles who carried the weight of authority. But when you greeted him, your voice wasn’t harsh—it was gentle. There was pressure behind it, sure, but you didn’t snap at him or dismiss his excitement, even though he knew people often found him a bit too much.

Instead, you listened to him. You smiled—a small, almost invisible one—but it was there, and it lit something inside him. A flutter he didn’t quite know how to describe.

It was when you smiled for him for the first time that he really felt it. That small, faint curve of your lips after he’d gotten a little too excited about something as simple as a window view of your garden. The flutter in his chest was unfamiliar, but he didn’t dislike it. No, in fact, it felt… nice. Special.

Kalim couldn’t help but want to make you smile again.

He’d seen so many people forced into roles that didn’t let them be happy, and he hated that you seemed to be one of them. You were strong, yeah, but you were suffering, too. And that was something Kalim couldn’t stand. So, from that moment on, he made it a personal goal to lighten the weight on your shoulders, even if just a little.

He didn’t have Jamil’s cleverness, didn’t understand the nuances of the political games you were constantly playing, but maybe—just maybe—he could give you something simple. A reminder that life wasn’t just about duty and responsibility, that there could be joy, too. If anyone deserved to smile more, it was you.

And when you did, that tiny flutter in his chest bloomed into something more. He didn’t have the words for it, but whatever it was, it made him even more determined to stick by your side.

Because in the end, Kalim Al-Asim wasn’t the smartest, but he knew one thing for sure: he liked making you happy. And if he could do that, even in the smallest ways, then maybe that was enough.

The wedding had been a grand affair—briefly mentioned in conversations, a formality that had swept through the palace in a whirlwind of silks, flowers, and the astonished murmurs of nobles. Now, life had settled into its new rhythm. The days moved forward, filled with work and the familiar weight of duty, yet something had shifted. Something brighter.

You sat at your desk, papers spread out in front of you, quill in hand. The room was quiet, save for the soft scratching of pen on parchment. But then, a familiar burst of energy entered the room.

Kalim.

He bounded over to you, practically glowing with life, as always. His smile was wide, his eyes gleaming as he plopped down beside you, legs crossed, hands gesturing animatedly as he spoke.

“Hey, what’re you working on? Anything exciting? You should take a break—you’ve been at it for hours!” His words bubbled up, his excitement palpable.

You glanced up from your work, unable to suppress the smallest of smiles. Kalim had that effect—an infectious lightness that made everything around him feel… easier. As he leaned closer to peer at your papers, you felt the warmth of his presence, the joy that radiated from him in every small movement.

And then, it hit you.

The past few months, since you had arrived in this world, had been the best you could remember. Despite everything—despite the weight of your responsibilities, the confusion of your new life—there had been him. Kalim, always there with his endless enthusiasm, his unwavering kindness. He was the reason those months had been so full of life, so unexpectedly joyful.

Without thinking, you reached out, grabbing his arm and pulling him down onto your lap. His laughter bubbled up in surprise as you tugged him into your space, but before he could say anything, you leaned in and kissed him.

For a moment, the world stilled. His lips were soft, warm against yours, and you could feel the surprised smile lingering there, slowly deepening as he kissed you back, his hands resting gently on your shoulders.

When you pulled back, his eyes sparkled, his grin wider than ever.

“Well, that was unexpected!” he laughed, his cheeks flushed. “I should interrupt your work more often!”

The chaos hit you the moment you opened the door.

Papers were scattered everywhere, an overturned chair lay dramatically in the corner, and somehow, somehow, Kalim had managed to knock over an entire shelf of books, which now covered the floor in what could only be described as a literary avalanche.

In the center of it all was Kalim himself, spinning wildly in circles as he tried to catch a parrot—yes, a parrot—that was squawking and flapping around the room like it had a personal vendetta against order.

"Oh! You're back!" Kalim shouted, not missing a beat as he stumbled over a pile of papers, arms flailing as the parrot swooped low above his head. "You wouldn’t believe it—Jamil said not to bring the bird in, but I thought, 'Hey, it’ll liven things up!' And now it’s really livening things up!"

The parrot screeched in agreement, swooping low again as Kalim tried (and failed) to dodge it, knocking into another pile of books in the process.

You just stood there, blinking, trying to comprehend the sheer absurdity of what you were seeing. Your instinct—your usual instinct—would have been to explode, to demand why Kalim had brought a parrot into your office and created a scene worthy of a disaster movie.

But then Kalim turned toward you, still laughing despite the madness, his eyes bright with excitement and joy. He looked so happy, so full of life, and that grin—oh, that ridiculous, infectious grin—just melted away any irritation you might’ve felt.

You sighed, half-amused, half-exasperated, but completely smitten.

"Why did you bring a parrot in here, Kalim?" you asked, not really expecting a logical answer.

"I thought it could help!" he said earnestly, ducking again as the parrot flapped by. "You know, for moral support! But I think it’s mad about the crackers I gave it—they weren’t the fancy ones."

Despite yourself, you snorted a laugh. Fancy crackers for a parrot. Of course.

Shaking your head, you rolled up your sleeves and waded into the chaos. "Alright," you said with a sigh, "how do we calm this thing down?"

"I knew you'd help!" Kalim beamed, his grin wider than ever as he accidentally knocked over another stack of books while trying to reach for the bird. "You’re the best!"

And just like that, any frustration you might’ve felt disappeared. It was impossible to stay mad when Kalim was around, when he looked at you like that, his smile brighter than the chaos surrounding you.

Sure, you should’ve been irritated—you definitely should’ve scolded him—but the truth was, you didn’t care. Not when you liked seeing him happy like this.

The parrot screeched again, now perched on top of the chandelier, and you looked at Kalim, who was already planning his next attempt to capture it, enthusiasm never wavering.

"Alright," you muttered with a smirk, "let’s catch a parrot."

Because really, with Kalim, how could you say no?

The council chamber was as dull as ever. Endless discussions, arguments over treaties and trade, and the first prince droning on with his overinflated sense of importance. Once, you would have gritted your teeth and endured it, forcing yourself to care because you had to—because that was what duty demanded.

But now, with Kalim beside you, the air felt lighter. His presence added a quiet warmth, even in this room filled with scheming nobles and stifling protocol.

You caught Kalim sneaking glances at you, barely containing his grin, and he leaned in, whispering, “Do you think they’d notice if we snuck out? I saw this really nice restaurant on the way.”

You smothered a laugh, turning your gaze downward. You’d never dreamed you could feel such joy during these dreary meetings, but here you were, caught in this bubble with him, like the two of you were the only people in the room. His happiness became your own, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

The first prince’s voice faltered, his expression darkening as he noticed the soft smile you were trying to hide. Anger sparked in his eyes, a sharp glint of resentment as he realized his plans to manipulate you had come to nothing. He looked at you and Kalim as if he were staring at an infuriating puzzle—one that needed to be destroyed.

That night, after a grueling day of meetings, you made your way to your chambers. The hallways were quiet, and the familiar comforts of your estate filled you with calm, but something felt off. Shadows stretched where they shouldn’t, moving unnaturally, as if they had a life of their own. Your instincts kicked in, and you quickened your pace.

You reached your shared bedroom, a flicker of movement catching your eye. There, in the corner, figures clad in dark robes converged around Kalim. His eyes widened, but before he could react, you lunged forward, fury blazing in your veins.

You fought them off with nothing but raw strength and sheer will, each blow desperate and ferocious. They struck at you, blades glinting, and you felt pain slice across your skin, but you refused to yield, refusing to let them get anywhere near him.

At last, the final attacker crumpled to the floor. You staggered, blood staining your clothes, the pain seeping into every limb, but Kalim’s arms were already there, catching you before you could fall.

His expression was uncharacteristically serious, his cheerful demeanor replaced by something sharp, regal—a reminder that he was no mere boy in love but the heir of a powerful family.

The doctor arrived, working quickly, and once you were settled in bed, Kalim took a seat beside you. His gaze was steady, intense, and for the first time, you saw the weight of responsibility in his eyes, the silent authority he usually kept hidden beneath layers of laughter and joy.

“Why did you fight them alone?” he asked quietly, his hand reaching to brush a strand of hair from your face. “You didn’t have to—”

You shook your head, a faint smile pulling at your lips. “Because no one hurts you. Not while I’m here.”

His hand stilled, and a flicker of pain crossed his face. “I didn’t have to stay, you know.” His voice was soft but firm, carrying the weight of a decision made long ago. “I’m not tied to this empire. My family’s influence is vast; we don’t need anyone’s approval. But I stayed… because I like being here with you. Because I…” His voice faltered, but his gaze held yours. “Because I love you.”

Kalim’s hand clasped yours, his fingers warm and steady. “The Scalding Sands will manage without this empire. And this place… it doesn’t deserve you. Not when it has hurt you like this.” His voice grew colder, a tone you’d never heard from him before. “Let it fall apart, for all I care. I’m done watching it drain the life out of you.”

For a long moment, you lay there, absorbing the enormity of his words. A world without the burden of duty, free from the endless cycles of treachery and expectation. And Kalim beside you, offering not just escape, but freedom, and a life filled with joy.

A soft laugh escaped you, surprising even yourself. “I don’t care if the empire crashes and burns,” you murmured, your hand tightening around his. “I don’t care about any of it. I just want you.”

Kalim’s eyes softened, and he leaned down, his lips brushing gently against yours. The kiss was slow, tender, and filled with a promise of a new beginning. It was a moment that felt like the closing of one life and the opening of another, a vow sealed with warmth and certainty.

You both pulled back, breathless but smiling, a new, shared future blooming between you. And when you finally closed your eyes, your hand still in his, you knew you’d face whatever came next together, no matter where it led.

The final ball was as grand as ever, the ballroom filled with nobles dressed in the finest silks and jewels, their laughter and chatter a thin veil over the ever-present tension in the room.

You entered with Kalim by your side, the weight of what you were about to do settling over you like armor. The empire had always been a battlefield for you, but tonight… tonight, you were walking away from it all.

At the far end of the ballroom, the Emperor sat on his gilded throne, the golden imperial crest looming behind him. His eyes scanned the room lazily, but you could see the calculation in his gaze. Beside him stood the First Prince, his eyes narrowing at you the moment you entered. His jaw clenched, the flicker of rage barely contained beneath the surface.

You weren’t here to dance, though. No, tonight was about setting yourself free.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the center of the ballroom, Kalim’s presence a comforting warmth beside you. The chatter died down almost instantly, and all eyes turned toward you. Whispers spread like wildfire through the crowd—what was the Grand Duchess planning now?

You gave them no time to speculate.

“Your Majesty,” you called out, your voice sharp enough to cut through the murmurs. “I stand before you one last time to say this: I will no longer serve this Empire.”

The room fell into stunned silence, gasps echoing off the walls. The Emperor’s eyes darkened, his hand gripping the armrest of his throne tightly, but you didn’t stop.

“Your empire,” you continued, your voice rising, “is built on the backs of people far better than you. You are a rotten king. You speak of honor and glory, but all you do is send others to die for your own ambition. I bled for this empire, fought your wars, won your battles, and for what? So you could sit on your throne, pretending to be a ruler when you’re nothing but a coward hiding behind false titles?”

The nobles gasped again, their shock palpable. No one had ever spoken to the Emperor like this.

“And you,” you snapped, turning toward the First Prince, your eyes blazing. “You—who ordered the assassination of my husband because I rejected you—are even worse. A spineless coward with nothing to back your ego. You hide behind your father’s power, hoping that killing the man I love will somehow make me regret not choosing you. But I could never love someone as weak as you. You are pathetic.”

His face turned an ugly shade of red, his hand twitching toward the sword at his side, but you weren’t afraid. You had seen what he was capable of—nothing.

The Emperor finally spoke, his voice low and dangerous. “You dare insult your emperor, the man who gave you your title?”

“I earned my title,” you snapped, stepping forward. “I didn’t need your permission or your favor to become who I am. You gave me nothing that I didn’t take for myself. And I’ll tell you this—I will never fight another war for someone as revolting as you.”

The Emperor’s mask of indifference cracked, his eyes blazing with fury, but behind it, you could see the desperation. He needed you. The Empire needed you. They couldn’t afford to lose you.

He leaned forward, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. “What do you want? Wealth? Power? I’ll give you anything. Just don’t walk away.”

You almost laughed at the irony of it—this man who had always acted like you were disposable, now begging you to stay.

But you didn’t need his power. You didn’t need his wealth. You glanced at Kalim, who stood beside you with that same warmth, that same unshakable love in his eyes. And in that moment, you knew exactly what you wanted.

“Kalim is enough,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “I don’t need anything from you.”

With that, you turned on your heel, not sparing the Emperor or his pathetic son another glance. Kalim followed without question, his hand finding yours as you walked out of the ballroom, your loyal knights, butler, and maids falling in step behind you.

You could hear the stunned whispers of the nobles behind you, their shock hanging in the air like a tangible thing, but you didn’t care. You had walked away from the Empire, from its corruption, from its endless, soul-sucking games.

And now? Now, you were free.

As the cool night air hit your face, Kalim squeezed your hand, his bright smile lighting up the darkness. “So,” he said, his voice filled with excitement, “where should we go first on our adventure?”

You laughed softly, feeling lighter than you had in years. “Anywhere. Everywhere. As long as it’s with you.”

And with that, you ran. Away from the Empire, away from the pain of your past, toward a future filled with love, adventure, and endless possibilities.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you were truly happy.

Masterlist

Other Parts in this series:

Part 1: Vil ; Part 2: Riddle ; Part 3: Lilia ; Part 4: Malleus ; Part 5: Azul ; Part 6: Leona ; Part 7: Idia ; Part 8; Jamil

[iwasntstable]

n.s. | happy birthday

🗀 C:/PROJECTS/MYWORK/ONESHOT/HAPPYBIRTHDAY [projects] ﹂ [my-work] | in-progress | favourites 　﹂ all | series | [one-shot] | blurb | head-cannons | ask 　　﹂ … | new-neighbour | if-im-there | [happy birthday]

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➔𝐢𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞➔➔　𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦!+　　[𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐀𝐎𝟯]

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summary: Sometimes lying is okay when it's planning a birthday surprise for the birthday-hating man you love.

content tags: fluff, fluff, fluff.

word count: 2.5k.

note: Is this two whole days late? Yes. But it's finally here and I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for being so patient, and again, Happy Birthday Noah our beloved 🖤

You’d both gone to bed hours ago, and when you were certain Noah was asleep, you carefully untangled yourself from his arms and slipped out of bed.

“Where are you going?” His drowsy voice reaches your ears through the darkness. 

You squeeze your eyes closed and scrunch up your face with your back to him; you were so sure he was asleep. “I can feel a headache coming on. I’m just going to get the meds I left in your car,” you lie, turning around to face him. “I’ll be quick,” you lean down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“M’kay,” he mumbles, rubbing your back as his eyes drift closed again.

You head out of your shared room to the front door, grabbing his keys on the way. Thankfully, he seemed to believe your little white lie. Going straight for the trunk of the car when you step outside, you hope the flowers you'd stashed in there all day hadn't wilted to death. Inspecting them under the light of the car, they did look a little sad, but you were sure some water and sunlight could save them.

Cradling the flowers, card, and little gift box in your arms carefully, you enter back into the house, cautious not to let the paper wrapping on the flowers crinkle too loud. You go to the kitchen and take out the vase you'd washed and stashed away earlier, filling it with a little water for the flowers to revive in. Setting it all up nicely on the counter—the card resting against the vase and the little box, wrapped in silver paper sitting in front.

Noah told you not to get him anything, but you weren't about to let that slide. He might not be big on birthdays, but you wanted nothing more than an excuse to shower him with love, and knowing he'd likely be up tomorrow before you, he'd find your little surprise first thing when he goes into the kitchen. You take a glass from the cupboard, fill it halfway with water, and take it with you as evidence of your little deception.

"All good?" He asks when you tiptoe back into your room.

"Yeah, all good." You set the glass down on the side and crawl back under the sheets with him, where he instinctively pulls you close into his side, the warmth of his body banishing the chill from yours.

The dip in the mattress wakes you a few hours later, followed by Noah’s lips ghosting softly over yours. With a sleepy groan, your hands instinctively move to his shoulders, where he’s hovering over you.

“I love you so fucking much,” he whispers.

For a moment you’re confused about the sudden show of affection until you crack your eyes open against the glow of the morning to see him holding his card and gift, the latter still unopened. “You haven’t even opened it yet,” you smile when he rests his forehead against yours.

“The card would’ve been enough,” he kisses you again. When he pulls back, you see his eyes are rimmed red, like he’d been crying. “What you wrote was so beautiful. I just- I’ve never felt so loved before. I’ve never loved anyone like you before.”

Now he’s going to make you cry. You encircle his shoulders with your arms, pulling him down on top of you and holding him close, so tight as though you could transfer all of the love you feel for him from your body to his. He rests his head in the crook of your neck, his arm securely around your waist, and you lie there together while the sun rises higher in the sky and the birds fill the air with song.

“C’mon,” you pat his back after a few minutes, “you need to open your present!”

He squeezes you just a little tighter before he plants a kiss against your shoulder and lets go. He sits up, and you follow, crossing your legs and snuggling into the duvet to hide from the cold October air.

Noah looks down at the little box in his hands, then looks at you, his expression saying, “Are you serious? I told you not to get me anything.” You nod encouragingly, and he finally tears off the tape from the metallic silver paper to reveal the little black box inside. He looks up at you again, quizzically. 

“If you want to know what it is, just open it! Don’t look at me!” You kick him playfully from beneath the sheets. He laughs and shakes his head, pulling the lid from the base and finally revealing the gift you agonised over for months inside. You sneak a hand out of the sheets to bite at your nail, suddenly questioning your choice. What if he didn’t like it? He was right; you shouldn’t have gotten him anything. You should’ve just stuck with the card. Now he’s going to have to pretend he likes it to not hurt your feelings.

But when he takes it out of the box and sighs your name, your anxieties vanish as quickly as they arrived. “It’s the date we met,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” you reply just as quietly, slipping out of the sheets to sit by his side, your legs folded beneath you. “I stole your other bracelet to get the right size, so I hope it fits.”

“Oh, so it didn’t fall down the back of the dresser?” He teases, raising an eyebrow at you.

“It might have fallen into my bag and all the way to the jewellers.”

“Will you put it on for me?” He asks, looking at you with those big brown eyes that make you melt every time.

You nod and take the silver chain from his hand. He holds out his right arm for you to loop the bracelet around, positioning the bar—engraved with the day you first met—on the top. Once it’s secure, he takes your arms and pulls you into him, onto his lap, where he wraps his arms around your waist to snuggle close into your shoulder and mumbles, “I love you.” 

“Do you like it?” You ask, tenderly running your fingers through his hair.

“Are you kidding?” He pulls back to meet your eyes. “I love it. I love you. I never cared for my birthday until I met you,” he brushes your sleep-tousled hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “Now each birthday reminds me of how grateful I am that we get to spend another year together.”

You feel a blush creeping up on your cheeks, warming your face. “I love you too,” you smile and lean in to meet his lips. A soft and gentle kiss, full of love and adoration for the man that chose you that day and still continues to choose you.

“Do you want your cake?” You ask with a teasing smile when you pull back, raising your eyebrows.

Noah blinks in surprise. “My what?”

“Come on!” Your grin spreads wide across your face as you slide off his knee and drag him up with you by his hands, holding them all the way to the kitchen.

You let go when you reach the fridge, throwing open the door and scooping out the contents and tossing them on the counter: tomato ketchup, chicken, veggies, miscellaneous sauces, leftovers.

“What are you doing?” Noah chuckles.

“I hid it in the back yesterday. I can’t believe you didn’t see it... AHA!” You declare when you finally reach the white box. You turn to place it on the counter only to find there’s little to no room left.

“No wonder I didn’t find it. You totally buried it back there!”

“It was a surprise!” You banter back.

Noah just laughs and shakes his head, taking several items in hand and placing them back in the fridge to clear a space for you. Leaving the cake box on the counter, you take the candles from their hiding spot inside a mug in the cupboard and dig the matches out of the drawer. When Noah was putting the last items back in the fridge you ordered, “Stay there! Don’t turn around!” He throws his hands up in surrender and stays facing the fridge.

You quickly lift the lid to reveal the funfetti cake decorated with white icing and fresh fruit on top. You consider placing exactly twenty-nine candles, one for every year of his age, but decide against it and add five instead. Lighting them quickly before they get the chance to drip wax onto the frosting. “Don’t move!” You yell, crossing the room to hit the light switch.

“I’m not!”

“Okay,” you sigh, taking the cake in your hands. “Okay, you can turn around now.”

The candles, though small, illuminate the room in a warm, comforting glow, the light of the morning blocked by the still-drawn shades. While the fire warmed you on the outside, the intimate nature of the scene warmed you on the inside. You sing as soon as Noah turns around, and a smile erupts across his face, reaching his eyes, making them crease at the corners, and making his cheeks look full.

“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Noah, Happy Birthday to you!” He moves closer to close the gap between the two of you. “Come on, make a wish!” You hold up the cake higher as the candles melt.

Noah places his hands over yours where they hold the cake and, with one quick breath, blows out all the candles in one go. “I don’t need to make a wish. All my wishes already came true when I found you.” His eyes meet yours in the dim light, and you put the cake back down to fall into his chest, your arms secure around his waist. “Thank you for this,” he whispers, resting his cheek against your head.

“You’re welcome,” your voice muffled against his hoodie. “You deserve to be celebrated. It’s your day.”

Noah sighs and squeezes his arms around you tighter, swaying you both gently side to side. In his arms has to be your favourite place to be. The place that never fails to banish your worries and anxieties, you hope to remain here for as long as time will allow.

“Do you want a slice?” You mumble against his chest.

“Of cake? For breakfast?”

“Yes!” You exclaim like it was obvious, looking up at his face. 

“We can’t have cake for breakfast,” he scolds, holding you close by the hips.

“It’s your birthday! We can do whatever we want,” you turn, dip your finger in the frosting and smear it on his nose, then wrap your arms around the back of his neck.

He gasps and laughs, full and carefree. He always works so hard and weighs himself down with self-created expectations. To see him now, relaxed and accepting of the love he deserves, especially on his birthday of all days, a day he’s so adamant about not celebrating, warms your heart and brings a smile to your own face. He deserves to be celebrated, and you wish you could get that into his head.

“You know what? You’re right,” Noah dips his finger in the frosting and smears it on the tip of your own nose. “I’ll get some plates,” he leans down to meet your lips in a sweet, chaste kiss.

You laugh in disbelief, then shake your head and get a knife from the drawer, wiping off the frosting and licking it off your finger. “Mm, it’s good!” You look over your shoulder where Noah has two forks and two plates from the cupboard, frosting gone from his own nose and a pleased expression on his face. He nods in agreement and sets down the plates. “How big of a slice do you want?” You ask.

“Hm, maybe just a little piece. Then we can have real breakfast after,” he snakes his arms around your waist as you make the first cut, clinging to your back.

“This is real breakfast,” you retort, lifting the cake carefully with the knife and placing it on a plate, then cutting a piece for yourself. “It has fruit on it.”

“You’re right, that makes it a health food,” he jokes, taking a bite-sized piece on his fork.

“Exactly,” you nod, doing the same.

The cake was amazing, thankfully. You were worried about the flavour, having never bought a birthday cake for Noah before. He wasn’t the type to frequently eat cake, which left you stumped in the store when the staff asked what flavour you wanted. Her suggestion seemed to be a success though, judging by Noah’s pleased hums behind you and the way he was forking down another bite.

“I love the flowers, by the way. They’re beautiful,” he mumbles, mouth full of cake and a smile on his lips.

You glance over to the vase at the end of the counter; the bright colours of the petals thankfully revived after suffocating in the trunk of his car all day. “Good, I’m glad. You deserve beautiful things.”

“Not as beautiful as you, though,” he leans to the side and wipes frosting from the corner of your mouth with his thumb before leaning in to place a quick peck on your cheek. You roll your eyes at the compliment, fighting to suppress the flustered smile it brought to your face.

Cake devoured, you lounge on the couch together, putting on the local weather to see what activities the day would allow. Noah brought the flowers with him, placing them in the centre of the coffee table right in his line of sight, with the card you wrote standing in front of them.

Noah,

Happy Birthday, my love! 

You’ve worked so hard this year, and it has been nothing short of a pleasure to watch you grow and achieve everything you aimed for, and more. I know it hasn’t all been easy, but your perseverance and drive to be the best version of you that you can be inspire me every single day. Even on days where we’ve struggled, you never let it get in the way of what’s most important.

I love you so much, I don’t even think I can put it into words. It’s an honour to listen to your beautiful voice and watch you create every day, and I feel so lucky to be a part of your life and have you be a part of mine.

Thank you for being here for me through everything I’ve been through this past year, even when I felt like I didn’t deserve it. You keep me sane when I’m overwhelmed and feel like I’m losing my mind from stress, and I’ll never be able to express how grateful I am for your love, support, and presence by my side. You mean the world to me.

I look forward to seeing what the next year together brings us, what you achieve next, and what our lives will be like in a year's time. 

Thank you for always being my light in the dark and for continuing to love me.

I love you, and I hope you have a good birthday. ♡

✉ C:/SYSTEM/APP/TAG

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[batboyblog]

I keep seeing the take of "vote blue no matter who is fascism/leads to fascism" literal days before the election and people going on tirades about how we're licking their boots while they kick our teeth in and I'm just so fucking tired. I just. Am so tired. I also saw someone explicitly mention "they could eviscerate a baby on the stage and you'd still vote for them" and that just SEEMS anti-Semitic. I sincerely hate this so much. I see people also claiming that "withholding your vote is the only political power you have" and I want to scream.

And I'm straight up seeing people say "Oh so republicans will be so much worse? Then we die together" and holy fucking shit these people are awful, straight up the most selfish motherfuckers I've ever seen in my life. They really are just hoping for a "revolution" so they can cosplay as the anarchists they've always wanted to for a few brief moments before they get jailed/straight-up killed. They don't care about the millions, billions of people who's lives are about to get so much worse thanks to this.

I'm sorry for doing such a rant but oh my god. Why are people like this.

where's that tweet about firebombing Wal-Mart and then not?

maybe the greatest tweet of all time.

any ways, I was just out and about in the real world knocking on doors and yeah I was knocking easy turf (every other house was a Democrat pride float of signs and banners) but I can tell you these internet edge lords aren't real, I mean in some cases literally not real being fake people meant to demotivate voters. But even those who are real Americans who really feel that way, they're such a tiny unimportant minority that they're not really real and spoiler most people like that are NEVER voters, they don't vote, ever so like "I'm not gonna vote" you didn't before so you don't really factor in, its like children, how they feel doesn't matter because they can't vote.

The real feeling out there is good, you know, I'm tired, and I'm going out again tomorrow, thats what its really about, they bitch about Democrats and shit but we're out talking to people, organizing, mobilizing, and voting, they want a Revolution, well then here it is you can turn the world if you do the work.

people saying they won't vote for a better world is stupid, and its childish, I think of all the fights we've fought, all the little wins that build up to national victories, we have a chance to keep going forward, to break down more barriers, to right more wrongs to make the American Dream available to more people who never before had a shot, we can be a more perfect union, and we can do great things together. Or we can allow the gift we have been given, guarded by generations in blood and pain in the fields of Gettysburg, Beaches of Normandy, in the dirt of Philadelphia, Mississippi, and in the street in front of the Stonewall Inn to be take away from us, to allow a Government for, by and of the people to vanish from the Earth. Thats the choice, the rest is noise.

[pandapetals]

Chores

You try to get out of doing chores by flirting with Logan.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

"I love you," you said, standing on your tiptoes to press a sweet, lingering kiss to Logan's lips, giving him your best wide-eyed, innocent look as you pulled back.

Logan narrowed his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Sweetheart," he said, his voice low and amused, "I love you too, but you can't say that just to get out of chores."

You sighed dramatically, making a big show of taking the laundry basket from his hands. "Fine," you huffed, "though it usually works."

Logan’s eyebrow shot up, his smirk widening. "Does it, now? Pretty sure it never works," he drawled, crossing his arms as he watched you with that glint in his eye.

"Oh, please," you scoffed, giving him an exaggerated eye roll. "Usually, I just look up at you with these adorable, puppy-dog eyes…" You leaned in closer, batting your lashes dramatically, “…and then you fold like a cheap lawn chair."

Logan scoffed, leaning back slightly as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "I do not fold," he replied, though you could see the hint of a smile breaking through his mock-serious expression. "I’m not that easy, darlin’."

"Yes, you are," you teased, nudging him playfully. "I bet you’ll fold right now if I try hard enough."

Logan’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he crossed his arms, looking down at you with a challenge in his gaze. "Alright, then," he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, rough tone that always made your stomach flutter. "Let’s see who folds first."

You grinned, accepting his unspoken challenge. You sat the laundry basket down. "Fine," you said, stepping up close to him, your fingers lightly tracing the collar of his shirt. "I’ll just keep saying cute little things until you’re putty in my hands."

He chuckled, though you could tell he was already fighting to keep a straight face. "Go on, then," he challenged, his arms still crossed. "Give it your best shot, sweetheart."

You tilted your head, giving him your sweetest smile as you trailed a finger along his jawline. "You know, you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met," you said softly, batting your eyelashes. "All gruff and rugged… but with a heart of gold."

Logan’s lips twitched, but he held firm, his arms tightening across his chest. "Nice try," he replied, his voice sounding a little strained. "But flattery ain’t gonna cut it."

"Oh, really?" You bit your lip, pretending to think, then leaned in even closer, your face barely an inch from his. "Did I mention that I’m hopelessly, madly in love with you? That I think about you every second of the day, even when I’m supposed to be doing something else?"

Logan let out a small, almost inaudible breath, and you could see his resolve beginning to waver. His eyes flicked down to your lips, and you knew you were getting to him.

"That all you got, darlin'?" he murmured, though his voice had dropped to a whisper.

You smirked, sensing victory. "Oh, no," you whispered back, reaching up to gently trace your fingers along the back of his neck. "I’ve got plenty more."

Before he could react, you stood on your tiptoes, brushing your lips along the line of his jaw, then murmured against his skin, "You know you can’t resist me, Logan. You’re already melting."

Logan's breath hitched, and he exhaled slowly, the last of his resolve slipping away as he dropped his arms and wrapped them around your waist, pulling you flush against him. "Alright, alright," he grumbled, but his voice was soft, his eyes locked onto yours with that familiar warmth. "Fine. You win."

You grinned triumphantly, wrapping your arms around his neck as he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. "See?" you whispered between kisses, "Told you you’d fold."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips quirking up in that lopsided grin. "You might’ve won this time," he murmured, "but don’t think I won’t make you pay for it later."

"Oh, I’m counting on it," you replied, your voice filled with laughter as he pulled you in again, his grip on you tightening.

[jobean12-blog]

random hoeing:

Javi P. holding your gaze as he slowly licks the salt off his hand before taking a shot of tequila

Troublemaker

Pairing: Javier Peña x female reader

Word Count: 633

Summary: After spending one amazing night together you and Javi find yourselves grabbing some quick after work dinner at the same local spot and since you're not one to dance around what you want, you make it very clear you want him.

Author's Note: EVA! eeeeeeee I have been thinking about this image since you sent this into my asks and I LOVE IT! Thank you so much for it! He is so fucking sexy I can't stand it. Just a little drabble to hone in my horniness haha, have the best day! Love and hugs friend! Thanky you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: they clearly have feelings for each other but right now it's just about the fucking haha, shower sex, fingering, a quickie bc Javi's too hot to resist

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

Long fingers slip around the sweaty glass, but your eyes quickly dart back up to his face when you see him lift his other hand, the back of it coated in salt, to his lips.

His dark eyes never leave yours as his tongue slowly slides out of his mouth and over his skin, licking up every grain of salt before he raises the shot glass. He downs it easily, the clear liquid burning down his throat while the muscles contract and relax and the long line of his neck tempts you.

“You make me insane,” you whisper, more to yourself than him, as you take a sip of your drink.

“I think you don’t like how much you like me,” Javi answers back, unable to stop his smile.

You smile back at him. “I need a shower before I head out with the girls tonight…”

His eyes widen slightly and his brows lift.

He holds the door open for you and you step inside, familiar with the layout of his place and head straight for the bathroom.

You strip on the way, then climb into the shower, turning on the water and watching through the glass as he undresses.

He follows you, his eyes closing when you drag your teeth along his jaw. You grab for the soap and lather some in your hands, moving them to his chest and with your eyes on his face, reaching lower, sliding a hand down his cock.

You work your hand over him, slowly squeezing, and then stretching up to kiss his neck. He chases your lips, parting them with his tongue and deepening the kiss, and groaning into your mouth.

His fingers make tiny circles over your nipples, and he presses you into the tile before reaching down between your legs to find you silken and wet.

You pull back from his mouth, letting your head fall back against the wall, eyes closed and mouth soft and open.

Your bodies slide together, and he finds your mouth again, his lips trailing along your jaw and down your neck.

“I’m so close Javi,” you mewl.

His fingers stroke and press but you still his wrist just as your legs begin to shake. “I want to come with you inside me.”

He nods, unable to reply aloud because he’s wound so tight. He rubs your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, catching his breath.

You reach lower, taking him in your hand, and at his sharp hiss, your eyes turn up to his face, taking stock of every detail of his reaction.

The water runs down his face, his dark hair plastered to his forehead and his thick lashes clumped together. It collects above his top lip, and you suck it off, moaning when he lifts your thighs, pulling your legs up and around his waist and then sliding in slowly, inch by inch.

Your fingers move up his neck into his hair and then your lips follow, kissing, biting, and when he pushes in deeper you release these tight, sharp noises straight into his ear.

He knows you’re so close and he pulls back to look at you, your mouth falling open, your pussy clenching tight.

He grips you hard, face now pressed to your neck, fucking you fast and deep. You watch him now, watch him climb, give in, and topple over the edge with a rumbling groan.

With ragged breaths his hands slip along your wet skin and trace your curves. His mouth searches for yours. Everything is soft, drenched in water and he’s still inside you.

You tilt his face in your hands, kissing his jaw and sucking water from his bottom lip, his mustache tickling your soft skin.

“You okay?”

He nods, whispering, “you’re going to wreck me angel.”

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

The Heat of the Matter

Summary: Dreams are keeping her awake, so Y/n decides to visit Dean at work

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: 1.3K+

Warnings: Language, sexual intercourse (wrap it before you tap it), low-key voyeurism

Author’s Note: I can't believe I wrote words! It's not a lot of words but it's words. This little one-shot was inspired by a dream I had the other night so enjoy!

Check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly!

“It’s late.”

The statement was laced with more concern than it was accusatory. The firefighter stood before her in a dark pair of joggers and a t-shirt with the department emblem on his left chest. His hair was ruffled as if he had just run his hands through it before greeting her. For a moment, she felt bad for waking him, until she remembered that he had answered her text almost immediately. He had been awake too. 

“Couldn’t sleep, weird dreams,” she replied, pushing past him into the darkness of the fire station. Dean had met her at the back door, leading straight to the firehouse living quarters. The kitchen was easily recognizable as she stepped into it, even in the darkness. The double industrial-sized refrigerators hummed in the distance and the large dining table, big enough for at least a dozen men, loomed in the center of the space. 

“So you decide to visit me at work… in the middle of the night?” Dean closed the door, the latch clicking quietly behind them. She hummed to herself as she ran a finger across the glossy wood of the table, the red Maltese firefighter cross in the center shining in the little bit of light coming from outside.  

“I was lying in bed, staring up at the fan whirring above me, and it got me thinking,” she answered as she continued deeper into the station, towards the one place she truly wanted to see. Dean’s soft footsteps followed after her, through the rec room and finally stopping just before the door to the apparatus bay. 

“About?” He tried again, his curiosity rising with her elusive behavior. 

She pursed her lips as if she had to remember what had been keeping her up, before turning to push into the bay. The large space somehow felt freeing as she stepped into the moonlight streaming in from the large windowed doors. She no longer had to hold back. 

“Me, you… us.”

“Us?” Dean paused in the doorway as she skipped towards the engine. The soft summer dress she had slipped on in her haste to get out the door flowed around her as she spun back to face him, cross-armed and leaning against the open door frame. 

“You know I’ve never gotten to sit in one of these?” The woman ran her painted fingers across the shiny chrome and fire-red paint. 

Dean’s nose scrunched at her sudden change in topic. She continued to smile softly at him until he rolled his eyes at her, giving in easily to whatever it was she wanted. 

“Better late than never,” Dean sighed and made his way over to her. The firefighter pulled the engine door open, the creak of the metal echoing around the open space. He offered her his hand, helping the woman into the backseat before slipping in behind her and shutting the door. 

The pair sat across from each other, their legs intertwined in the small space. She looked around her, taking in the equipment that hung overhead and the station name stitched into the fabric of the seats. 

“You wanna tell me what this is really about now?” Dean’s voice had her looking back at him, his hands clasped in his lap as he waited patiently for her to reveal her true motives for coming here. 

“Everybody’s sleeping?” 

“What? Y/n/n, this is-”

“Is everybody asleep?” She asked again, not letting him finish what was sure to be an aggravated rant. He searched her face, looking for something within her features that might answer whatever questions were running through his mind. After a moment, he finally relented with a soft nod of affirmation. 

Leaning forward, the woman placed her hands on Dean’s thighs, slowly running them up toward his hips. Dean sat back in the seat, letting his hands drop to his side as he looked at her, eyes going wide. It was clear this was the last thing he had expected, but he made no move to stop her as she climbed into his lap. 

“Y/n, what are you doing?” His voice was a breath against his lips as her hands found their place at the column of his neck. 

“I thought that much was obvious,” she replied with a smile, leaning in to brush her lips against his pulse just below his jaw. Dean’s hands found the dip in her waist and he gripped tight, fingers curling into the light fabric. 

“This is what you dreamt about, wasn’t it?” It all had finally clicked for him. The being awake in the middle of the night, the needing to see him right away, she had dreamed about being with him and now she was all worked up and needy. 

The woman nodded as she continued her assault on his neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the length of it before licking up toward his jaw. He turned his head toward the action, catching her lips with his own and sucking her tongue into his mouth. A low moan vibrated in her chest, urging him on. His thick arms snaked around her, pulling them impossibly close to each other and sending a jolt of excitement through her nervous system when she felt the length of him below her. 

“Okay, sweetheart.” 

That was all she needed to know he was all in and she reached behind herself to pull the zipper of her dress down her back. As the material fell from her body, she pulled her arms free from the dress’ straps. Her body reacted to the cool air inside the engine, goose bumps rising under her skin and her nipples hardening. 

“We’ve gotta be quick,” she explained as she slid back on his thighs, giving herself just enough access to pull on the elastic of his waistband. Dean lifted his hips to allow her to move his sweats and boxers to his thighs. 

“Fuck.” the expletive dripped from his tongue as she took his length in her hand, squeezing gently as she ran her hand from the base of his shaft to the head, bringing his arousal to life. Spitting in her palm, she repeated the action one more time before moving her hips back to his.  The woman slid her panties to the side to line him up with her core and sank onto him. 

Her breath caught in her throat as her body adjusted to the intrusion. Once her muscles relaxed to the fullness, she began, rolling her hips as she moved up and down. Dean’s fingers dug into the flesh at her waist as he helped her with the motion, his hips meeting hers thrust for thrust. 

The dream had left her so inflamed with need that she could already tell she was close. Her body thrummed with the arousal that flooded her bloodstream, releasing itself from its confines with every moan that fell from her lips. 

å“Dean,” she whined as he buried his face in her neck. He was letting her lead this time, letting her use him to get herself off, but she knew how much he was holding back. 

“Yeah, baby, I know, come for me.” His breath fanned over her as her pace quickened in search of her climax. 

A bolt of electricity sparked across her nervous system, snapping the band in her belly and sending her arousal over that final cliff. Her legs shook around his hips, the muscles losing their strength with her orgasm. Dean grunted below her and she just barely registered him twitching inside her, having found his end along with her. 

“Was that better than your dream?” He asked with a wry chuckle, pulling his head back to look at her flushed face. She wrinkled her nose, feigning ignorance for a moment before leaning in to kiss him slow and deep. 

“Let’s just say, I crossed something off my bucket list that I didn’t even know was on there.” She admitted before peppering soft kisses across his cheek.

Forevers: @440mxs-wife @akshi8278 @emoryhemsworth @ever-mischief @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @jbsgirl4ever11 @jensengirl83 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maggiegirl17 @maliburenee @muhahaha303 @mrsjenniferwinchester @sexyvixen7 @siospins2 @spnwoman @suckitands33 @stephv213 @stoneyggirl​2 @supernatural3002​ @traceyaudette @xlynnbbyx@anathewierdo @atc74 @austin-winchester67 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @briagallen @callmekda @dawnie1988 @deandreamernp @deanwanddamons @ellewritesfix05 @heartsaved @janicho88 @jarpad24 @littlewhiterose @lunarmoon8 @msmarvelouswinchester @polina-93​ @roseblue373 @sleepylunarwolf @spnbaby-67 @squirrelnotsam @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @suckmyapplejacks​ @supraveng @tatted-trina6 @thoughts-and-funnies @tranquility-or-chaos​ @watermelonlipstick @waywardbeanie @wayward-dreamer @winchest09 @woodworthti666

[graciegoeskrazy]

one more fight - she's begging you to stay stay part THREE

Matty Healy x lost!OFC!daughter!r

part 1 part 2

Warnings: crying, mourning/death of a parent, mention of running away, school lol, idk really, angst, ft George a bit

A/N: Idk how I feel about this but I think it's good. I had this way longer originally but the rest will just be separate parts. Some if the rest isn't s angsty (who IS she??) I like it. When Liam Payne died this reminded me that this is basically “I got adopted by one direction” fan fiction so now I hate it all actually but whatever

It had been a week since you attempted to run away from home, and a week since you decided to try calling this place home.

The days had been strange and tentative, each one blending into the next. You were slowly piecing together routines, latching onto anything that made you feel settled, though part of you wasn’t ready to trust the feeling. School, of all things, had become a useful distraction. It wasn’t that you suddenly loved studying or cared much about what grades you’d get—just that there was comfort in the rhythm of it. It gave you something to think about other than Matty or Mum. With midterms looming, you had a convenient excuse to keep your head down, keep to yourself, and attempt to be unnoticeable.

Your room, the biggest you’d ever had, still didn’t feel entirely like yours, Since the night Matty found your diary and read how you truly felt about staying, you’d been slowly adding little pieces of yourself to it—posters, knickknacks, little things that might make it feel like you belonged there. Nothing too bold or permanent, just small touches, as if you were testing how much of yourself you could leave behind in this space without making it obvious. It was easier to imagine Matty noticing and disapproving, though he’d only ever tried to show how much he wanted you to feel loved.

Every morning he’d check in, a soft knock on your door, asking if you needed anything. He never asked outright if you were okay or if you wanted to talk, and you only assumed it was because he knew that was too much to ask, too soon. Instead, he let you take each day as it came, hoping that small gestures—a cup of tea, your favorite snack he’d bring home for you, a movie night he’d suggest but would never force—would show you that this was, in his eyes at least, home for as long as you wanted it to be. Maybe even for good.

Yet the question lingered in the air between you both, like a thread that neither one of you wanted to pull. The question of staying. You hadn’t spoken about it since the night he found your diary, and though you’d been too mortified to say anything then, you wondered now if he’d been waiting all along for you to come to him and make it real with words. But for now, you settled into the quiet in-betweens, letting the weeks go by without saying anything final, and instead working to leave small pieces of yourself where you hoped they might take root.

…….

You never heard the quiet rumble of the car outside or the front door shutting. It was only when the light spilling through your bedroom door shifted into the shadow of a man that you finally turned around. Matty stood there, dressed in black with his wallet and keys in hand, dress shoes still on—he hadn’t even bothered to drop them off by the door. He’d come straight to you. “What the bloody hell are you doing up at this hour?” he asked. You rolled your eyes, too exhausted for his lecturing, and turned back to your work.

“Studying,” you said calmly.

He walked toward you, his tone firm but holding no anger or malice. “Not at one in the morning! You should be in bed. I told you I wanted you asleep by the time I got home.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, not looking up from your work.

He sighed, setting his keys and phone down on your desk. “Did you eat dinner?”

“Yes,” you replied, a little too quickly.

He scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, so we’re lying now, are we?” You shot him a confused look. “I checked my credit card charges,” he added, shrugging with a smile. You rolled your eyes and turned back to your study guides. But before you could get back to work, he closed your laptop and began shutting the books on your desk. “It’s time for bed.”

“No, I’m busy.” You said, starting to open everything back up. Matty started closing everything again as soon as you did, putting more books into your backpack beside your desk.

He laughed, which pissed you off even more, “Don’t tell me ‘no’, it’s time for bed.” You ignored him, opening your laptop and trying to resume working, but it was no use, he just kept shutting everything off around you,

"Stop," His voice was firm, cutting through the air. The word felt heavier than it should, a gentle command that broke through the walls you had been trying so hard to keep up. Your body reacted instantly, curling in on itself as if his voice had unlocked something inside you. You pulled your knees to your chest and clamped your hands over your eyes, as though covering them could make the world go away. The tears you'd fought all night surged forward, warm and relentless. The sobs you’d been choking back finally broke free, trembling out in small gasps, filling the silent room.

For a moment, you felt nothing but the weight of it all—your sadness, your anger, the uncertainty that seemed to wrap itself around you like a second skin. You couldn’t stop shaking, the tears pouring out faster than you could handle, but before you could drown in them, you felt Matty slowly shift beside you. His hand wraps around your wrist. It wasn’t forceful, just a quiet, persistent tug, and you let him pull your hand away from your eyes. Your vision blurred through the tears as you blinked up at him, trying to make sense of his face through the haze of emotions.

"Come here," he murmured, his voice softer now, the firmness replaced by something warmer, something that felt like home. His arms opened prompting you to come to him.

Without thinking, you moved. The space between you two disappeared in a second as you pushed yourself off your desk chair and stumbled into him. You buried your face in his chest, your body shaking as his arms came around you, pulling you in tightly like he was trying to piece you back together. His chin rested on top of your head, and you could hear the steady thump of his heartbeat, a rhythm that began to steady your own.

"It’s okay," he whispered into your hair, his voice a soothing tone against the storm raging inside of you. "I’ve got you. Let it out."

You sobbed harder, your fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt as if clinging to him could stop you from falling apart completely. He didn’t flinch, instead, his hands moved in slow, comforting circles across your back. His touch was light but steady, grounding you with each stroke. He rocked you gently, the motion slow and rhythmic like he was trying to lull you out of the darkness with nothing but his presence.

"Shh," he murmured again, his breath warm against your hair, "You’re safe. I’ve got you."

His words wove their way into the cracks of your heart, slowly calming the tidal wave of emotions crashing inside of you. The ache in your chest began to ease, though the tears kept coming. You hadn’t realized how badly you needed this, how much you’d been holding back until this moment. The dam had broken, and now there was no stopping the flood.

But he didn’t seem to mind. He just held you tighter, wrapping his arms around you like a shield, protecting you from the world. He leaned back slightly, shifting his position so that you could sink further into his embrace, his arms cradling you like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.

“You’re okay,” he repeated, his voice steady. Each word felt like it was unraveling the tight knots that had wound themselves deep in your chest, loosening the tension that had been building since your mom died. You weren’t sure how long you’d been crying, but he never left your side, never pulled away,

The warmth of his body seeped into yours, and slowly, the sobs began to fade. Your breaths, though still shaky, came easier now, and the iron grip you had on his shirt began to soften. You felt heavy—exhausted, drained—but somehow lighter at the same time, as if some weight had been lifted. His hands never stopped moving, rubbing soothing patterns across your back, his thumb tracing slow, comforting circles over your shoulder blade.

He didn’t push you to speak. He didn’t pry or prompt you to explain. All he did was hold you, shushing your tears, whispering that everything was going to be okay. And it was you who chose to break the silence, your voice muffled against his shirt as you continued to cry into him.

“I just miss her,” you whispered, your words broken by the tears that hadn’t fully subsided.

He paused for a moment, letting the weight of your words hang in the air. The only sounds were your quiet hiccups and the soft rustle of his breath as he held you tighter.

“I know,” he finally said, his voice gentle, full of understanding.

“I just...want to see her again.”

“I know, baby-”

“And I’m so tired.” The exhaustion wasn’t just physical at this point.. Every part of you was worn thin, stretched beyond breaking.

“I know,” he whispered again. “But pushing yourself like this, studying until you can’t see straight, working every second of every day... it won’t bring her back, love. It won’t take away the hurt.”

His words settled in your chest, heavy but true. You felt the warmth of his breath on your forehead as he pressed a kiss there. He then spoke words that would take a while to itch out of your brain, “You don’t have to be so strong all of the time, kid.” You continued to let the small tears flow off of your cheeks and onto his shirt, “You can ask your help every once in a while, you know that right?” You didn’t nod or answer, just stayed still, letting his words sink in.

He looked at you as he spoke, “You’ve had a long day,  I’ll bet money your exams will go just fine, and deep down, I think you know that, too.” He pulled back slightly, his eyes soft but serious. “But if you don’t get some rest, you’ll be too tired to keep your eyes open for any exam you take.” His fingers brushed a stray tear from your cheek. “It’s time for sleep now, love.” You just nodded as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Go get changed. I'll be right here.” You slowly pried yourself off of him, the chill in the air coming back without his warmth.

You grabbed one of the pajama sets from your dresser and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The momentary silence felt heavy, almost suffocating after the outpour of emotions just moments before. The fluorescent light buzzed faintly as you turned it on, casting a harsh glow on your reflection in the mirror.

For a second, you just stared. Your face was blotchy and red, eyes swollen from crying, dark circles lingering beneath them from nights of restless sleep. It was hard to recognize yourself like this—so raw, so vulnerable. A completely different person than the one you were mere months ago. You reached up to rub at your cheeks, your fingers brushing over tear-streaked skin, but the feeling lingered deeper than the surface.

You dried your face, tugging on your pajama top and slowly made your way back out of the bathroom. Matty was still sitting where you left him, his expression soft but watchful as you re-entered the room. He didn’t say anything, just gave you a small, reassuring smile, patting the spot beside him.

And without thinking, you went to him, letting the quiet between you two speak for itself.

He moved out of the way and moved the covers down, prompting you to get in. He pulled them up once you settled in and started fluffing your pillows. His gaze finally met yours once he got you settled and he couldn’t help the small frown on his face when he saw your eyes, still full of tears.

“Shh. It’s alright my love.” he said, voice almost a whisper, secretly trying to lure you to sleep

You looked at him with those big doe eyes of yours. The ones he has become very accustomed to. “Will you stay with me?” you asked, voice barely a whisper.

It took everything in your father to not cry in that moment, seeing you so small, so fragile. So terrified of what was to come made his heart shatter into a million pieces. “Of course I will.” He said.

Once he took his place next to you, you wasted no time, immediately finding a spot against him and his chest. He held you tighter as you cried into him. He didn’t say a word, yet you felt the most supported you’ve ever been. It almost felt as if a weight started to lift off of you. Eventually, your sobs subsided. The amount of crying in that short time was enough to wear you out during your barely conscious state, He was still in his dress shirt and pants, not that he cared. All he could think about was you. He didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to let go of you.

…….

George bursted through the door, slamming it loudly. Not aware of your sleeping form on the couch, You were cuddled into your father, asleep, face hiding in his chest while your legs were sprawled out on the rest of the couch. To Matty’s surprise, his loud, booming voice didn’t wake you. Matty shut him up before he could continue. “Shhhh! Shut up will you!” he whispered. If he could’ve shouted he would.

George abruptly stopped when his eyes caught sight of you. “Christ, is that her?”

“No, it’s another 12-year-old who lives in my house.” George rolled his eyes. Matty continued, “She’s still asleep. Come sit.” He nodded towards the chair next to him.

He saw George’s hesitant look as he slowly crept to the couch, his eyes never leaving your sleeping form. Matty noticed the way his gaze hovered over you as he took slow, calculated steps towards the chair, afraid a creek in the floorboard would wake you up. He spoke as he sat down. “Why so tired? It’s barely 3?”

Matty shrugged, “She’s been up late. Barely sleeps through the night since Flo died. Being up through the night studying for her exams sure didn’t help.”

George quietly sighed. “Poor girl.” He looked at you once more, paying attention to your features, now having a proper chance. “Christ, she looks just like you.” He said, almost a whisper.

Matty looked up at him quickly. “You think?” He said, not bothering to hide the smile on his face.

“Without a doubt.”

Matty hummed, looking at you again, “Acts like me too, stubborn as hell.”

George let out a small laugh before quickly responding. “Nah, I don’t imagine she’s as big of a pain in the ass as you.”

Matty rolled his eyes. “Oh shut-”

“Dad?”

Both men panicked when they heard the timid and groggy sound of your voice. You were still half asleep, not even bothering to open your eyes all the way. The sun peeking in through the living room windows was too bright anyways,

“I’m sorry I woke you, my love.” He whispered sweetly. “Go back to sleep, darling.”

You rubbed your eyes as if doing so would get rid of the tiredness in them. “What are you doing?” You asked while stretching.

“Nothing, just talking with George. Come here, come back to sleep, my love.” You didn’t argue, just fell limp again into his arms. Matty smiled down at you as George breathed a sigh of relief.

“Shush,” Matty said to him.

“Me shush? You're the one who woke her up!” He whisper-shouted,

Matty shrugged and repeated. “Shush.”

“She’s been doing alright otherwise?” George asked, his pettiness now replaced by pure concern.

Matty smiled as he continued his mindless movements of rocking you back and forth, “As good as she can be. All things considered.”

George hummed. “...And you? You doing alright there ‘Dad’?’

Matty sighed as he looked between his best friend and his daughter, his shoulders falling slump. “...I don’t know. I just…Sometimes I can’t believe she’s mine. Not because of everything that’s happened, but because she just seems…too good for me.”

As much as George wanted to make a joke and say something stupid like well, most women are, he didn’t. He stayed silent, only nodding his head to prompt Matty to continue. “She’s so mature. Well beyond her years, sometimes I think she’s more mature than me. She’s smart. Really really fucking smart, way smarter than me…sometimes I wonder how i’m supposed to help her…grow.” 

“I think you’ve done much more and much better than your giving yourself credit for.”

He sighed, “She’s already amazing. I don’t want to fuck her up. She too perfect.”

George nodded “Maybe that part she gets from Flo.”

Matty smiled, knowing he was right.

[httpvomitello]

I Can Explain *⁠.⁠✧

request: April O'Neil's younger sister, the same age as the turtles (in the first film they were 16-17 years old). And she met them much earlier, but did not pay attention to this older sister. Splinter, a smart rat, knew about the reader's relative, but kept silent, since she did not see the point in telling yet. When the ninja turtles contacted the older O'Neil. And so, when April was transferred to the turtles' lair in the first film, the reader, like "Oops", was lying on the couch, trying to hide from her older sister, since she could get angry at her. The sisters' relationship is reminiscent of Leo and Raph

next - I Am Fine

April still had the bag covering her face, but she could smell the place they were passing through. She tried not to show her discomfort, but by the time she reached the lair, and the bag was taken off her head, her gaze ended up going straight to the couch.

The second April saw her sister lounging on that beat-up couch, she froze. “Are you kidding me?” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through steel.

Her sister froze too, then tried to look casual as she slowly sat up. “Oh, hey! Didn’t, uh, expect to see you here, sis!”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me.” April’s tone had that no-nonsense edge that only made her sister's hackles rise. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Why was her sister in the lair of mutants who were once her pets?

The younger O’Neil rolled her eyes, crossing her arms in that defiant way she knew would get under April’s skin. “Hanging out? Just catching up with my friends.”

“Oh, you’re friends now?” April scoffed. “How long has this been going on? And why didn’t you tell me?”

“Maybe because you never stop to listen?” she shot back, the words out of her mouth before she could hold them back. “You’re always too busy with your reporting and acting like the world’s gonna fall apart if you’re not the one saving it.”

The room went dead silent, the turtles exchanging awkward glances. Raph chuckled, nudging Leo. “Hey, does this remind you of anyone?” He was looking way too pleased with himself.

“Shut it,” Leo muttered.

April stepped forward, the fury and hurt in her eyes enough to make anyone else flinch—but her little sister held her ground. “You think I don’t care? That I’m just obsessed with work?”

She scoffed, standing up and folding her arms, not backing down an inch. “It sure looks that way. I mean, I’ve been coming here for months, April. Months. You didn’t notice a thing because you’re too busy pretending you have to protect me from the big, bad city.” She jabbed a thumb at herself. “I can handle myself just fine!”

April clenched her fists, practically shaking. “You don’t get it. This isn’t just some fun club you can join, alright? These guys have been through things you can’t even imagine!”

“Then why do you get to be here?” she shot back. “What, you think you’re the only O’Neil who can handle this?”

April opened her mouth, clearly ready to fire back with something biting, but then hesitated, the frustration and pain mixing on her face. “I never asked to be here. I didn’t choose any of this! But when I found out, I had a responsibility—”

“Oh, don’t give me that ‘responsibility’ speech,” she cut in, throwing her hands in the air. “You always act like you’re the only one who can handle anything serious. You don’t trust me with anything!”

“Maybe because you never act like anything is serious!” April shouted, her voice echoing off the walls. “You just go around like it’s all a game, and that’s exactly why you don’t belong down here!”

Silence fell hard, the weight of her words hitting both of them. Her sister’s face darkened, that look of raw hurt settling in her eyes. April flinched, but it was too late to take it back.

Mikey whistled low. “Ouch. That was cold.”

Leonardo shot him a look that said not now, but Mikey just shrugged. April’s sister clenched her jaw, her hands in fists at her sides. “Fine, April. You don’t think I belong here? Guess what? You’re not the boss of me. And you can’t stop me from being here.”

April just shook her head, muttering to herself, “Unbelievable. You’re just so—”

“So what?” she challenged, stepping right up to her big sister. “Say it. Go on.”

“Enough!” Splinter’s voice cut through the argument, his calm authority making both sisters go quiet. He stepped between them.

“You two have more in common than you see,” Splinter said, looking from one sister to the other. “Both of you care deeply, in your own ways. But perhaps it is time you see each other not as obstacles…but as allies.”

April sighed, rubbing her temples, still fuming but a little deflated. Her sister shot her one last heated look before turning away, frustrated tears shining in her eyes.

Leo put a hand on her shoulder, giving her a sympathetic look. “ You can go rest if you want, we're going to talk to April.”

Agreeing, the girl left and headed towards Donnie's room. The turtles were already used to seeing the youngest O'Neil going there to get some sleep. And at the moment, it was the best thing to do.

[kaythefloppa]

Wild Kratts - Salmander Streaming - Thoughts

Spoilers!!

I've a good feeling that this isn't actually a clip from a movie, but just something the animators whipped up. The fact that the animals running are in blue and green gives me the impression.

But also, the characters being able to stream movies makes me feel old.

If I had a nickel for every time a red squirrel fucked up high tech structure in this show, I'd have 2 nickels.

Also, how efficient are the tellurium crystals (which we saw earlier in the season premiere) are, if shit like THIS can render the turtle ship's power efficient??

Roll credits!

Also, this is the first of MANY moments in the episode that made me laugh unironically.

Martin, that is a fucking exoskeleton. I don't think I have to explain why that is incredibly gross (although it does make for an efficient boat).

Also, random fact: The largest crayfish on the planet has weighed up to 11 pounds. That's huge!

This is another thing about the episode that regularly comes up (and that many people have noticed). The animation is suprisingly fluid. I mean, not surprisingly, there were new riggers on board for the show, which likely explains why it took nearly 2 years for the new season to drop, but still. Screenshots alone do not do several scenes or shots (this included) justice when talking about how eye-catching or interesting the animation is.

I did not know that some salamander species were cannibalistic! This show always manages to teach me new things every day, even at the age of 18.

Am I the only one who is the tiniest bit miffed when they call it "the human fish" and not "the olm." I get that it's a nickname like "Wolf Hawks" but, it's not the only name. 😭😭

I feel like this is yet another moment where I should needlessly harp into the "lore" of Wild Kratts. Because she describes the suit as "universal" and as we see in the episode, the Salamander Power Suit can be reactivated based on species. So why didn't she do this with the Spider, or Wolf Suit. I'm 100% looking too much into this, but just saying.

Also, I really hope that a Universal Salamander Power Suit implies that we'll be getting an Axolotl episode and a Power Suit. I was kinda hoping we'd see some of them in this episode, but the potential is there!

There is DEFINITELY no way I could've done this joke justice using screenshots. You need to see it in video form to see my point. Because the joke was predictable in every sense of the word. I knew what the punchline was. I knew when the punchline was gonna hit. But because the animation was so fluid throughout the frames, and because of how detailed the shading and lighting were and how overtly obvious the punchline was because of the visuals, it still made me laugh my ass off. I legitimately had to look up if James Baxter (yes THAT James Baxter) worked on this episode because it reminded me of a lot of scenes he did for Steven Universe and Owl House. Was surprised to know that he wasn't, but regardless, whoever animated these episodes, whether veterans or newcomers, deserves their fucking raise.

I know that he's referring to the salamander, and yes, the joke has been made before, but like, if someone told you that there's an episode of Wild Kratts where they [by technicality] said the word "hell" *checks notes* twenty-four times in one episode, would you believe them? Yeah that's what I thought.

Also, indeed hellbenders are the largest salamander in North America, the third largest in the world. Adult healthy hellbenders have very few predators and that's because of how gigantic they are.

I used up my one-video free-card on a previous joke, but once again, it's so silly, you know what the joke/punchline is, yet it's presented in such a way that is still really humorous, either because of how it doesn't bring too much awareness to the fact that it's a joke, embraces said fact of it being a joke, or both. Complete with straight-up fucking Looney Tunes style anticts, it's just really fun.

Also, another thing I find funny is that the hellbender ate the crayfish exoskeleton. Like, would that even be tasty?

Spoilers, but Chris does NOT Activate Tiger Salamander Powers. Yes, I am also miffed.

They're so besties.

Ok but like I'm sensing a pattern where Martin activates a Creature Power Suit with Aviva whenever he's not activating it alone or with Chris. Which at first I didn't think much of, but then I realized. Blue is a component color to make up purple. So this occasional running theme/pattern could be a reference to how similar they are, and how both rely on each other in some fundamental way in their adventures, much like how the colors blue and purple are interconnected in a way. Am I looking too much into this as well? Yeah, but I actually enjoy it!

Ok not gonna lie, I actually liked the fourth-wall break. Mainly because they could've easily fucked it up badly by having it drag on for too long, or making it too meta, but quick cuts and gags like this make it all the more worthwhile. And unlike the Camel Chris gag in the camel episode, it sticks around once and doesn't wear out its welcome.

Also, the Salamander Suits were activated by touching a Hellbender, which we've established, is bigger than every other salamander shown in the episode.... so... why the fuck are they that tiny?? They should at least be way bigger than the rocks they're standing on.

Also, the Salamander Suits genuinely look like Dinosaur Suits. At least... from this angle.

-... because from THIS angle they look so. FUCKING. CUTE. I so badly want to hug them like plushies (now I'm even more disappointed that Chris wasn't in one of these)

How the fuck was this guy able to stuff a huge-ass butternut underneath his vest and shirt.

Also, Chris, you do realize that keeping squirrels from eating the nut is a good way to make them endangered as well? Bro is petty 😭

I think this is the first time we've seen the Tortuga miniaturized by someone on the actual crew, not a villain or an accident.

As someone who didn't know or care that much for salamanders (at least in comparison to frogs and toads), this episode enlightened me a lot. I actually hope I do see a hellbender sometime in my life

CONCLUSION:

PROS:

The humor. Like, every single joke in this episode either got me to crack a grin, or laugh out loud

The animation. Once again, the animators have got their rent due. So many memorable facial expressions and cool color designs that just make it nice to look at.

The salamander species themselves.

CONS:

Chris definitely should've activated the Tiger Salamander Suit. Bro was robbed

No mention of Axolotls? The most well-known salamander in the world? For shame.

Final Ranking: 8/10. A nice slice of life mini-adventure with no huge or real stakes, but overall a pretty fun romp. Before this episode came out, there were a lot of positive reviews of this episode on IMDB and Rotten Tomatoes, and while I generally take those with heaping grains of salt (because opinions are opinions at the end of the day), I definitely agree that this episode is fun. The very epitome of "camp."

[camryn-haitani]

Sam golbach smut plsss I need him bro he's so fine

he’s so yummy i can’t😩

hey there, honey

Sam Golbach x Reader

you and sam met at a bar and hit it off but uh oh, no phone number. he surprisingly meets you again at the same bar but with some other guy?

TW: SMUT, “one night stand”, p in v sex, unprotected sex, fingering, praise, oral (both receiving), one night stand to lovers, alcohol mention, slight choking, misunderstanding, pet names (pretty girl, darling/darlin’, honey, princess), aftercare

lowercase intended

🚨i do not condone having sex while under the influence. everything is consensual in this fic🚨

“i need dick.” you slam your forehead on the bar counter but you never made contact because of a hand blocking your way. “well, you pretty straight forward, aren’t ya?”

you look up to see a blond man with mesmerizing blue eyes. “another round ooooof…..?” he made a questioned look at you. “tequila.” you answered. “ahh a woman of taste. i like that.” the man sat down next to you.

“so what’s a pretty lady like you doing in a bar all alone?” he questioned. you raised your eyes to him but your head never came up. “wouldn’t you like to know, pretty boy.” you nod your head as thanks to the bartender as they bring your shots. “that’ll be $8.” they said. you pull out your wallet but he beat you to it. “i’d never let a pretty lady pay for her drinks in front of me.”

“alright mr. big man,” you cross your arms as you sit up right and fully look at him, “why’d you come over here? you see a girl all alone and thought you could get some?” you suspect.

“no no not at all. wanna introduce myself. i’m sam golbach.” he sticks his hand out to shake. you pause for a second and give him a distrustful look. “come oooon, i saved you from bashing your head against the counter, didn’t i?” sam states. “alright. i’m y/n.” you meet his hand in the middle and give him a firm shake.

sam raises his shot glass in the air, waiting for you. “cheers to….” he pauses to think. “being single?” you finish. “to being single.” he says back as you both meet your glasses with a lil *clink*. you down your drinks and proceed to talk about anything and everything with sam.

as the night goes on, you find yourself pressed against supposedly sam’s car with your dress hiked up and his fingers between your dripping legs.

“shush darlin’ don’t wanna cause a scene, do we?” sam asked. you shake your head no. “good girl, that’s it. you’re making a mess all over my fingers, aren’t you?” you nod your head. as soon as his fingers were poking and prodding all the right spots, he pulls them out. you stutter a whine from your throat but sam covers your mouth. “what did i say about being quiet. now get your ass in my car and i’ll teach you how to be quiet.”

you get in his car and he drives off to a hotel that wasn’t far from the bar. he pays for whatever room is available and hurries inside. in the elevator ride up, he ever so lightly grabs the sides of your neck and pulls you in to kiss you. the lack of air cutting off to your head makes you dizzy and aroused for more. sam hears the ding of the elevator and pulls away.

he drags you to y’all’s room, opens the door, pushes you inside and begins to undress you as you do him. you barely get your bra off when he throws you on the bed. he kisses all down your thighs.

“please sam, don’t tease me like this. i’ve been so good for you.” your plead. “but pretty girl, can i not worship your body?” he asks. sam has his hand’s all over your tits. groping, squeezing, teasing your nipples. his eye contact with you is intense too which you don’t wanna look away. his lips latch onto the fat of your chest. he sucks like his life depends on it. he only sticks to your boobs because he knows it’s a work day tomorrow but he just also can’t get enough of your perky tits.

sam grabs your throat to pull you up to his level. you mainly get up in your own but the pressure is just so arousing. he lets out a sigh, “get on top of me, doll. i wanna see your tits bounce when you ride my cock.”

he lays himself down and waits for you to climb on top. you straddle him as sam pushes into you, but not too much as to hurt you. “say when you’re ready, mkay?” he asks. you nod your head as you adjust to his size.

your pain turns into pleasure when the stinging goes down. “i’m ready, sam. please i need it. i need you.” you plead. “such a naughty girl i have here. don’t worry,” he pushes the rest of himself deeper into you, “i’ll take goooood care of you, princess.” you moan aloud from his sudden action.

your hands fall on his chest as your ass bounces against his pelvis while his hands are gripping the life out of your waist. he helps you move up and down his leaking cock just the way he likes. you toss your head back when he pushes you all the way down with his tip hitting that oh so good spot.

the sound of skin slapping, the sweat, the smell of sex, everything was perfect to you. this is all you craved for. a man who is willing to make both of you get the most out of the pleasure of sex. this is who you need. just alone from this act, you knew sam was the man who would take care of you when you were sick, the man who would make your days happy when it all went to shit, the man who would always be there for you, day and night. you want sam. you need sam

you snap back into reality when his moans get more high pitched, his breathing more ragged, and his hands losing grip on your waist, so you had an idea. you stop your movement and position yourself to where your feet are flat against the bed and your legs more spread than they were before. you start you up and down, and the occasional grinding, and sam dies and goes to heaven. his tip reaching even deeper than he was before. he feels the most of what he’s ever felt.

“sa-m.. go-nna.. cu-um..” you manage to let out. he understands what he has to do.

he can’t control himself. he’s gonna cum, quick. his grip tightens and slams your hips on his pelvis while he paints your walls.

you fall into his chest and immediately pass out. sam gathers what strength he has left, picks himself up and gets a warm washcloth. he runs it over wherever has cum or sweat on you and makes sure you’re all clean. he wipes himself up and lays down next to you, falling asleep with his arm around your waist.

…

your eyes burn from the sun as you open them fully. sam still asleep on your other side. you find your phone and check the time.

“shit shit shit…” you rush out of bed, put you clothes on, order an uber and go back to your apartment.

you unlock your door and call your boss. “i’m sososososo sorry, boss. i overslept and running late. take it off my paycheck, or something. just please don’t fire me.” you say pulling your shoe on your foot. your boss laughs lightly, “don’t worry, you’re fine. just come down and we’ll get it sorted out.” “thank you so much” you say. you hop in your car and go to work.

sam on the other hand, rolled over in bed and notices you aren’t there. he swipes his hand over where you slept multiple times but, no you. he sits up and rubs his eyes, still confused on where you went. sam picks up his phone to text you then he remembers, he never got your number. his chest fills with dread, he’ll never see you again. he picks up his clothes and anything else he brought and checks out of y’all’s room.

not wanting to waste anymore money, sam walks home. it’s surprisingly not far from the hotel but it’s still a long walk. meanwhile you are driving to work, rushing against the time to not be any more late. finally, you get to your desk and sigh of relief and as soon as you sit down, you immediately wanna go home.

sam returns home and goes straight to colby’s room. “hey dude, can i ask you a question?” sam asks. “sure, what’s up?” colby’s sits up right to listen to his question. “do you ever long to see someone you only met once?” sam walks over to colby. “hmm… no not really. why?” colby answers. ‘i’ll tell him later’ he says to himself. “don’t worry about it colbs, but thanks anyway.” sam walks out.

*couple hours later*

you find yourself in the slimmest, sluttiest, sexiest dress you could ever own, in hopes sam is there to see you like this. since last night, he’s never left your head and your panties unsoaked. you get in your car and make your way to the bar.

sam walks again for some reason. he felt as if he needed to be walking to the bar. he didn’t know why but he followed it. his mind in the clouds when a woman pushes herself against him. sam puts his arms in the air to not touch her but she keeps persisting that she be all up on him.

you stop at a red light, pull your visor down to fix your mascara, and when you flip it back up, you see your blond man… with a woman pushing her tits in his face. your mind immediately goes to the depths and figure that he’s taking her to the bar with him. your eyes dull and drive off when the lights flashed green.

sam finally pushes her off him and adjusted his shirt. he briefly brushed off his encounter with her and continues to walk to the bar.

he pushes the door open and immediately tries to find you. he doesn’t know why, but he needs to see you again. even if it was just a one night stand, he longs to see your beautiful face again. but to his avail, he finds you flirting with another man. a man that’s not him, a man who looks at you with nothing but lust and not one ounce of love. looking at you as if you were just a human fleshlight. sam takes his leave to the bar counter and orders him a drink. he hears your giggle from behind him, the same one you gave him when he told you his corny joke. he looks to his side to see you attached to his arm, laughing at the guys obviously unfunny joke.

“oh, i didn’t see you. where’s your girl? the one who was all over you?” you asked. “i didn’t bring any girl, she was just someone who wanted a man’s attention. i pushed her off and came here, hoping to find you…” he painfully said. you like at him with sadness. “come on, sugar. i’ll show you what a real man can do to you.” the guy said to you. you cringe at his words and reluctantly follow. sam stays seated to sip on his drink.

you and the other guy were dancing. him pressing his hard on against you but it just made you feel uncomfortable. you want sam, you need sam. you saying those words to him, broke your heart like glass shattering on linoleum. you mind wanders as your body sways less and less. “what’s up, doll face? you’re not grinding onto me no more.” the man says with no intention of being worried about you. “nothing. you know what,” you pause while shoving your drink in his chest, “ima get a hotel. pay for our drinks like a man should, if i could even call you one, and don’t follow me.” you walk off. “whatever, bitch.” he mumbles under his breath while going to find another girl to flirt with.

sam however, never meant to listen to your conversation, but he heard ‘you’ and ‘hotel’, so he’s gonna try and find you any way he can. he looks up any close hotels from the bar and hurries to the closest ones. he needs you, not sexually, but emotionally. just in that one night you two spent together, he felt such a deep connection with you. sam needs you.

you check into your room, throw off your shoes, unstrap your bra, and toss yourself on the bed. buzzed from the drinks and shots, you lazily scroll through your phone.

sam runs to every check in desk to ask if you’re there. he runs and runs and runs. he needs to find you, he needs your touch, sam needs you. he’s so desperate to find you, tears prick his eyes. he stops in front of the last hotel within a 10 mile radius of that bar. this was his last chance.

a knock at the door interrupts your doomscrolling. you groan and pick yourself up, not caring if you’re not wearing a bra. you unlock the padlock on the top of the door and open it to see him.

“hey there, honey.”

- - - - - -

i’m sorry if this wasn’t all smut, my mind had one thing and ran with it. i apologize if this wasn’t what you asked for

[sturniololuv08]

The Game Part One (Matt - PG)

Song: My Favourite Game - The Cardigans

Tumblr: @kirby0strombolli

"You could have any guy you wanted Nina." Her best friend rolled her eyes.

"I know but where is the fun in that." Nina shrugged loving a challenge.

"Everyone knows Christopher Sturniolo is untouchable." They giggled as they watched him from afar. He was standing with a group of his friends composed of the most popular guys in school.

"I think I could get his attention." Nina was determined. She was the most popular girl in school but somehow her and Chris' paths never crossed the way she so desperately wanted them to. Her friends tried to talk her down because Chris was in fact untouchable. But Nina knew boys were just a game. There was always a way to get them to fold.

"You gonna try tonight at the pool party?"

"Yeah. That's perfect." She sighed still eyeing Chris. He was laughing and throwing his head back exposing his neck. She licked her lips just thinking of all the bad things she'd love to do to him. School let out and she went straight home to start plotting. She threw her clothes all around her room looking for the perfect pieces. Desperate to stand out from any other girls who might shoot their shot with the school's most eligible bachelor. She settled on a dark sandy brown bikini. Her skin was already sun-kissed so she knew she would look good. Her rich brown hair fell in soft waves down to the crease of her breasts. The time didn't take long to pass and before she knew it her friends were picking her up.

"Okay, pop off." Her best friend Lizzie exaggeratedly snapped her fingers.

"I'm telling you guys, boys are just a game. It's light work." Nina knew how to pick apart a boy's mind and find out how to get her way. She always got what she wanted. SHe would love and leave them or she would date them for a while for fun. If she wanted a holiday boyfriend she could pull that off too. She knew what she wanted and this time it was the untouchable, un-date-able, Christopher Sturniolo. They pulled up to the house throwing the pool party. Everyone started looking their way and a few people greeted them.

"I'm going to see if Nate is here." Lizzie left quickly to find her fixation. Nina looked around for Chris but had no luck. She sighed thinking it was probably for the best so she didn't look desperate immediately going up to him. She walked into the house from the open back door and found her way to the kitchen full of alcohol to supply minors.

"Here." Someone handed her a drink. She smiled and took the cup without thinking of potential dangers. She took a sip. Everyone was her friend and everyone looked out for her because she was a nice popular person at their school. She included everyone but always naturally outshined them. There was some music playing to keep the background from being too quiet.

"Chris!" She heard someone yell and her ears perked up realizing he was there. She watched as he walked in with a few others behind him and started talking to a group of people. She wanted to shoot her shot perfectly. She waited watching the groups laugh together. After what felt like forever the groups dissipated and he was by himself getting a drink. Nina walked right up to him and started small talk.

"Hey." She smiled sweetly. She had to get him talking to figure out how to get what she wanted.

"Hi." He seemed almost shocked she was speaking to him.

"What are you drinking?" She peered into his cup and made sure her breasts were poking out in his direction.

"Water." He tilted the cup at her.

"That's... interesting." Truth was it was interesting to her. Chris had to be the biggest partier their school had so for him to drink water at a pool party on a Friday night was Interesting.

"I have to drive." He said offering up information she didn't ask for.

"Oh, that makes more sense." She giggled pretending to be interested in his reasons. He was quieter than she expected. "Do you want to go talk somewhere?" She thought maybe away from everyone he would open up more.

"Sure." He looked around as if he was looking for someone specific. Nina grabbed his hand and felt the cold rings on his fingers. She pulled him through the house and pretended to not see everyone staring at them. She took him downstairs and found a couch empty of people. The music was muffled and everyone else was upstairs partying so it was just them. "So..." He drew it out.

"Can I be honest with you?" This was her chance to shoot her shot but she knew to play it innocent.

"Yeah?" He was hesitant.

"I've liked you for a long time. I've wanted to tell you for a long time too; I just didn't know how." She looked away leading him to believe she was embarrassed by her feelings.

"You like me?" She looked at him with a fake shy smile.

"Yeah." She bit her lip. She could already tell she was winning him over. His eyes were looking all over her body. He snapped his eyes back up to hers and she saw a little gleam of lust in them.

"You are like super popular." He questioned her feelings.

"That doesn't mean anything to me." She fibbed. She knew her status in school mixed with Chris' status would make them a power couple, so to speak.

"I don't know what to say." He seemed timid. She thought it was cute. Nina always thought it was weird how Chris and her paths hadn't crossed naturally sooner but she liked the way he was doe-eyed about her.

"Don't say anything." She moved in and kissed him. He took to her tongue immediately and swirled his across the inside of her cheek. She was winning. She was getting all of Chris' attention. She straddled him and started grinding her hips back and forth on his baggy jeans. He was already bulging to try and touch her skin. She entangled her fingers in his hair and continued to kiss him. Her skin was on fire. She had wanted this for so long. Chris was perfect. Every time he rubbed his fingers over her bare shoulders she got goosebumps. 

She didn't just want Chris for his status or something physical. She wanted to be invested in him. She had watched him from afar for so long that she had delusions of them being a happy couple doing couple things. She imagined herself wearing his jersey on lacrosse game days. She imagined him lying in bed with her and playing with her hair. She imagined them watching and talking about her favorite movie, The Perks of Being a Wallflower. She didn't want to be railed into next week but instead wanted to make love for a long slow time. As if on cue to ruin her mood his phone started buzzing. He reluctantly pulled away from the kiss. He typed away on his phone and set it on the couch. He looked up with sad eyes. Nina knew it meant their time was over.

"I have to go. Chris needs me to take him home." Nina stood up fast.

"Chris?" She questioned.

"Yeah, my brother, Chris." He said like it was common knowledge.

"Oh, that - that's cool." Nina wasn't sure what to say. She didn't want to acknowledge her mistake because then she would have to admit defeat to herself. He stood up and ran his fingers through his hair.

"But I'll see you around." He looked unsure of how to approach her or the situation.

"Yeah." She smiled sweetly. He went up the stairs and left her standing still confused. If that wasn't Chris but his brother how was she supposed to get close to Chris now? There was no way for her to get everything she wanted now. Everything was ruined. She had lost her favorite game.

[octorockff]

Rush Hour

Lucy hated rush hour with a passion. Who in their right mind would like to squeeze in jam-packed transporting tube, filled with body odors and humid air? No sir, not her.

But the young editor didn’t have a choice as her boss Jason, the chief editor of the Crocus Weekly, had urgently requested her to gather the material to prepare for their sudden, exclusive interview with the hot shot - Salamander last minute.

Being a people pleaser and this was her boss, whom had helped her greatly when she was just starting out her career and normally was very reasonable with working hour, of all people, she readily agreed.

But she hasn’t anticipated the amount of work she had to pour in to prepare the material. Admittedly, sport was never her forte and this Salamander guy, who supposed to be a rising star in the baseball world, surprisingly having little to no information at all about him.

From grapevine, she learned that the guy avoided the paparazzi and presses like plague. The only information about him she got from the internet was general information that his club had released publicly, or snippets from group interviews.

Why he decided to change his mind and do an exclusive interview now of all time was beyond her. But she knew this was too good of an opportunity to pass up, and the information they collected from the Salamander himself would definitely put their magazine in the leading place.

With little information to work with, it certainly made her job all a lot harder. But Lucy has always been known as an overachiever, and she had never backed down from a challenge before. If anything, she was more than determined to scrape together whatever information nuggets she could find.

And finished it she did. With a list of strategic questions and leading topics that would surely encourage interesting answers, Lucy mentally patted herself on the back for making Jason proud.

However, that also meant her little investigation and info digging session dragged on longer than necessary. Meaning she was stuck in the worst possible train ride ever during rush hour.

Being squeezed between sweaty and depressed office workers was just what she needed on a Friday evening (not!).

And to make the matter worse, the hanging handle was just a bit out of her reach even if she tiptoed, snuffing out her last hope to stay balance on the occasional jerking train ride. Curse fate for her inconvenient height and the fact that all seats were taken!

A phantom feeling of her butt being groped filled Lucy’s veins with ice at the audacity of the pervert who dared to grope her blatantly in public.

Indignant swelled her heart and fueled her temper as the blonde turned around, ready to give the dirty fleabag a piece of her mind, when the sudden jerk of the train threw her off balance and sent her careening towards the door.

Cursing her rotten luck, Lucy squeezed her eyes shut and braced for the painful impact. But her falling momentum was reverse when the she felt something encircled her waist, pulling her body flushed against a wall of solid and warm muscles.

The smell of sandalwood and patchouli, with a hint of smoky campfire, filled her nostrils and Lucy couldn’t help but take a big sniff of the wonderful scent. She was a sucker for drool-worthy scent damnit!

Finally gaining her balance back, Lucy’s body went stiff as she realized the thing that wrapped around her waist in a vice-like grip was a toned, tanned arms - definitely belonged to a man, was still there. And it seemed like he had no intention to let go just yet.

Despite this man had saved her from a rather painful bump, the blonde was still skeptical of this total stranger and his intention with her. For all she knew, he could be the pervert that groped her earlier.

“Miss, miss! Are you alright?”

Turning around in the slightly slacken hold, Lucy was met with a rather stunning face, despite half of his upper features were shadowed by the band of his baseball cap.

Straight, high-bridged nose, cut jawline with sharp cheekbones, and a pair of brightly-lit, slanted viridescent staring down at her as his thin lips forming words she couldn’t hear. This guy easily ranked high in her top 10 of most attractive men list, and Lucy had had interviewed numerous hot celebrities to know what a good looking man was.

“Hey, are you listening? Did you somehow hit your head during your fall?” A large, calloused hand waved in front of her face, snapping the blonde out of her stupor. Heat rushing up her face and she was sure her complexion now rivaled that of a tomato. Damn, it must have been quite sometimes since she actually being in a close-range with such a handsome, good-smelling man that she was lost in a trance. Control yourself Lucy!

“No, I’m fine. I’m just a bit disoriented from the fall that I didn’t hear what you’re saying. Thank you for saving me.” Lucy signed as she put her hands against his chest to put a bit of distance between them, not that she could moved further out even if she wished, seeing how jam-packed the people around them still were. It’s a good thing those people didn’t care enough to pay attention to her and the mysterious guy.

“Aye, that’s great to hear! I’m glad you’re okay. Wouldn’t want you to smash your head against the door, it quite painful from my experience.” A toothy grin stretched across his face, showing off his sharp incisors and lit up his demeanor despite the shadow of his cap.

She couldn’t help giggle a little at his carefree remark, and she swore his smile stretched a tad bit wider and eyes a lil more sparkling at her laughing. But that was far-fetched thinking, so she quickly brushed it off as the lighting.

“So..what make you almost kiss the door like that?” He tilted his head and Lucy thought he looked like a curious puppy, a really cute one at that. But the reminder left the blonde in a sour mood as she thought back of the blatant disrespect she had faced.

Her expression must have been off putting, when the tall guy waved a hand in front of her face: “Whoa, you don’t have to tell me if it’s make you uncomfortable. I’m just worried - ah no, curious, yes, that’s all..”

Warmth filled her heart at his concern, not only he’s cute, but also kind as well, score Lucy! Patting his arm, which she now noticed was still wound around her waist loosely and something in her screamed how right it felt, she effectively stopped his sputtering and smile kindly at his reddening face.

“No, it’s okay. I’m just mad at the douche who dared to grope me earlier. I was about to give him a piece of my mind when the train jerked and threw me off balance.” A light frown marred his handsome face as he pursed his lips at her explanation.

“Well that’s not cool at all. No one should go through something like that. If you recognize the guy, let me know and I’ll be happy to pound him for ya.”

“Well, isn’t that nice of you Mr. Shining knight in armor. But unfortunately, I didn’t see their face so I guess they’re lucky to escape your justice wraith.”

“I’m no knight. I prefer to be known as a Dragon instead and you betcha I’m gonna beat the bad guys with my awesome dragon powers!”

Lucy laughed, and soon both of them guffawed at his silly declaration, making a few heads turned and stared at them incredulously due to their loud volume. But the blonde couldn’t find it in herself to care, too busy thinking how it was so easy to talk and joke around with a guy she just met.

Finally calmed down enough, she realized she didn’t even know the name of her savior, and that they were still standing so close that she could feel the warmth of the man’s body seeped through her clothes.

Blushing at their close proximity, and the fact that how unnaturally comfortable she was interacting and touching with a total stranger, Lucy spoke up:

“Say..I believe I didn’t catch your name. Mind telling me so I could thanks you properly?” Her fingers skirted up the length of his arms, barely rested on the man’s shoulder blade as she fluttered her eyelashes at him.

Lucy could hear his breath hitched and his pupils dilated, the hand on her waist unconsciously tighten its grip as his pretty eyes bored their gaze into hers.

Normally, she wouldn’t be so bold to flirt with a total stranger right off the bat, only when under the influence of alcohol or within the setting of social gathering. But she was heavily attracted to the man in front of her, be it his look or his charming personality, and she didn’t know if she’d ever see him again.

And Lucy was confident he’s interested in her too. She knew she was blessed with good genes and curves in all the right places, and was witty enough to hold any types of conversation. And not to mention, she was certain her savior had definitely tried to prolonged the contact and conversation between the two of them as he had yet to let go, or excuse himself after helping her.

That was all the good signs, so why not let him know she was interested as well?

“Why, how forgetful I was. But it couldn’t be help when you was the only thing I could focus on, any minor details seemed to slip my mind.” His voice dropped to a low timbre, the baritone tickled her brain in the most delicious way, and his large warm hand on her back pushed her closer until their front pressed flushed together.

“The name Natsu, and yours?” His name practically rolled off his tongue in a near purr. Natsu leaned down closer until the tips of their noses nearly touched, and Lucy could see tiny specks of gold ladened within his pools of vivid green.

For a fleeting second, his name reminded the blonde of Salamander, both of them bore the same name after all. But there’s no way the famed baseball player would end up on the same train, and openly flirted with her..right?

From what she knew, if there’s anything that could instantly rat out the sport star, it would be his shocking pink hair and motion sickness.

But the guy in front of her looked fine, though his cap had hidden any visible hair strands, and the varsity jacket he wore made it hard to tell whether he had any motion patches on or not.

Anyways, she quickly dismissed her silly thoughts and focused back on the sole objectives of getting this cute guy’s contact.

“It’s Lucy. And your name would definitely look amazing on my contact list.” She matched his tone, and her full lips curved up in a sensual smile that would surely swayed any man to see her ways.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl. I like your confidence, it looks hella sexy on you. Was ‘bouta ask for your number anyways, cuz I’d love to see you again beautiful girls”

Inwardly, Lucy nearly swooned from his praises and her ego had sky-rocketed to the roof for snatching such a hunk. But she maintained a cool facade and dig through her purse to get the phone.

After exchanging their contacts, the blonde was about to chat with Natsu some more when the intercom announced the arrival of her destination.

Sullen from the abrupt end of their conversation, Lucy reluctantly pushed herself away from the male, when he caught her hand and raised her palm to his lips, putting a light peck to the skin.

“Text me when you’re home, I wanna know if you’ve arrived safely” Natsu mumbled, his slightly chapped lips moving against her palm, effectively turning Lucy into a tomato with how flushed her face became.

Pulling her hands away, she gave him a timid nod and a bashful smile, no longer the brazen girl as she escaped from their own bubbles previously, as she rushed off the train before the door closed off.

Watching the train rode off, her stomach was filled with butterfly and a mixture of elated and nervous feeling swelled up her heart, and Lucy couldn’t help but cupped her mouth and squealed a little like a crushing schoolgirl at the whole event.

Who knew getting stuck within a rush-hour train ride, would lead her to such amazing encounter - as if it was fated. Lucy really hoped that they would get to meet each other again.

Little did she know, her wish would be granted in such a spectacular way, and led to something more than what she could ever hope for.

[sharkieboi]

so I’m trying to move cause this apartment sucks, and my dad suggested I see if my aunt (who is also my godmother) would let me move in with her, cause she’s got a big house and she’s been living alone since her husband (my uncle and godfather) died. and she lives a bit far from work but not terribly inconvenient, and she loves me and likes animals so neither me nor my bird would be unwelcome housemates.

and like trying to move I’ve shifted some priorities cause I’ve realized I don’t actually like living in the city proper and I would like to have trees and nature around and yknow not have my home be a mice-infested basement with no climate control with the entrance off a back alley that’s filled with dead rats and broken glass.

and it is taking everything in me to not just cave and ask her if she wants a housemate asap. she’s retired, she’ll love my bird, and I will be the best resident ever if she would have me.

but she’s also 30-40 mins out of the city with no public transit that goes to the city, and my car just absolutely shit the bed so I would have to get a car and/or figure out borrowing one from her or another family member

but also. cheap rent and guaranteed meals and in-house laundry and a big house with a big yard and a big garden and also I’m genuinely worried about my aunt living alone as she gets older so like???????? I’m very very very tempted.

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

people always talk about edwin being an older ghost, and he technically is, but he doesn’t have any more experience being a ghost than charles. he was in hell from the moment he died to the night he met charles. he died at 16 and then did not get a chance to go through any growth or learn anything in hell other than torture—he lost those 70+ years. functionally, neither of their afterlives start until they meet, and they have to (get to) learn how to be ghosts and how to exist in this form on earth together every step of the way. anyway, what are you procrastinating right now? i’m procrastinating an essay that was due 4 days ago AND an essay that’s due tomorrow 🤠

[navree]

i'm sorry hbo allowed this writing team to plan out a ten episode season until a MONTH before shooting when they cut it down to eight????? and then kept production going when the writer's strike started like two weeks after and kept up for the entirety of the filming schedule??????? i said that filming during the writer's strike was the death knell of this season but oh my god i did not expect to be this fucking right