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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 1 year ago

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THE GREEN IN YOUR EYES MAKES ME FEEL WARM INSIDE ; MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

synopsis; in the comfort of a familiar bookstore, you find a boy. a pretty boy, who’s always reading, who doesn’t speak unless he has to. you’d like to get to know him — and maybe you will.

word count; 4.6k

contents; megumi fushiguro/reader, gn!reader, fluffy!!, lots of pining from afar, bookstore au, no curses au, reader is an overworked student bc uni is beating my ass, gumi is kind of awkward but hes cute <3, gojo mentioned twice (stay safe), can u tell im excited for christmas … :'3

a/n; bookstore employee gumi who hates every single customer except for you is so real to me

(@riaki its here …🙇‍♂️)

he’s there again.

with a decisive step forward, you drag the door open, and the flutter of a bell resounds throughout the bookstore. a precious little jingle, alerting him of your presence.

the boy at the counter gives you a glance. his navy eyes settle on your bundled up figure, and a flicker of familiarity blooms in the scope of his iris, a kind of recognition. something that makes your heart feel like a clumped up little ball of snow.

(oh. it’s you.

you can almost hear the silent words fall past his lips.)

it only lasts for a second, barely even that, your gazes overlapping — then he’s back to reading.

today, you recognize the book in his hands. the hardcover looks just a tiny bit worn, but still well taken care of. well-loved. and it’s a pretty rendition; a butterfly just above the title, snakes crawling on either side, vines stretching out across the scope of the image. there’s a kind of mystique to it. pretty.

wuthering heights, you read off the cover.

a little odd, in hindsight. you’ve only ever seen him read nonfiction. maybe he decided to broaden his horizons?

after a brief moment’s contemplation, your feet begin to move. taking another small step forward, inching closer, while the door falls shut behind you. blocking out the snowfall and colourful lights illuminating the street.

mitten-clad hands go to brush stray snowflakes off your shoulders, as you shift from foot to foot, halfheartedly attempting to warm up your numbed toes. wallowing in the atmosphere of the cozy little bookstore; breathing in the smell of peppermint, the hint of freshly brewed coffee. from the boy, you assume — he’s got his usual mug on standby, a cute little black dog etched into the ceramic. steam rises from it, floating up into the air, and a fragrance of espresso wafts throughout the store.

low christmas music plays from the speakers, barely audible. pleasing to your sensitive ears and tired mind. it’s the usual mix of well-loved songs, for the most part, but then some you haven’t heard before. you can only assume he picked them out himself; pretty instrumentals, or low, gravelly voices, adding to that particular atmosphere simmering around you. nostalgic, a little melancholic.

the boy behind the counter looks angelic.

he always does, when he’s reading — and he usually is. gentle, in the way he turns the pages, awfully delicate, keeping them still between his thumb and forefinger. lips pursed, brows just a tiny bit furrowed. concentrated, immersed. dark eyes trailing over the tiny letters, scanning the ink of the paper, twisting the syllables inside his mind. almost tasting them on his tongue, with the way he wets his lips. they look a little chapped.

for some reason, the sight seems to render you sort of speechless. frozen. like he’s a pretty bluebird seated on your windowsill, chirping softly in the wake of morning, and you’re afraid of scaring him away.

— his eyes meet yours, and you visibly stiffen.

it’s smooth, the motion of his hands. how swiftly he flicks the book shut, placing it face down on the counter with a twitch of his lithe fingers. not before slipping a pretty bookmark in between the pages, lilac-coloured, with flowers embroidered into the silky texture. you wonder if he made it himself.

his voice spills out into the air, a little raspy. deep, but velvety, sending shivers down your spine. he clears his throat, and you watch his adam’s apple bob. ”do you need anything?”

a second passes.

it catches you off guard, the mellow sound of his voice. when you’re so unaccustomed to hearing it. excluding the brief words you’ve exchanged paying for your novels, you’ve only heard it a select few times — mostly from afar, not-so-sneakily listening in on his conversations with the pink haired boy and pretty girl who sometimes come in and never look at any of the books.

(there’s the tall guy with the not-so-seasonal sunglasses, too. but when he enters the store, all you pick up on are usually grumbles and threatening hand gestures.)

but now, that low, low voice is directed at you.

it can’t be good for your physical health. or mental, for that matter. you’re not sure you remember to properly breathe, and you’re almost certain hearts aren’t supposed to flail the way yours is right now.

when the boy behind the counter tilts his head, just by a hair, you’re finally snapped out of your little trance. stumbling for something to say, stuttering out a response, your hands grip at the insides of your pockets.

”well, um — i’m looking for a book.”

a moment passes. the song coming from the speakers changes into an instrumental, kind of jazzy. it’s nice.

”… a specific book,” you elaborate, under your breath. gnawing at your bottom lip, feeling a bit of heat on your ears. clearing your throat, as you step forward, tearing your mittens off with your teeth.

searching for a certain image, your numbed fingertips begin to tap at the cold screen of your phone. the warm air of the bookstore envelops your chilled knuckles, and a shiver runs through them.

the boy watches, silently, as you get closer.

you don’t notice him glancing at your reddened hands, and when you look up to see a glimmer of something displeased in his eyes, you only assume it’s because you’re taking too long. speeding up slightly, you hear a low click of his tongue. his back straightens.

when he gets up from his chair, you notice that he's tall. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him do anything but sit behind the counter with a book in hand, either reading his own or scanning a customer’s.

and, upon closer inspection — he’s maybe just a little bit too pretty for words. smooth, pale skin, a sharp jaw and defined cheekbones, dark eyes that hide a subtle kind of softness. pierced ears, a glimmer of silver on his earlobes, same as the rings on his bony fingers. his nails are painted black, a little chipped. and he’s wearing a big, bright green christmas sweater; one you really can’t imagine him picking out on his own, if his previous all-black turtlenecks and gray sweaters are anything to go by.

while you fumble with the phone in your grasp, the pads of his fingers go to silently tap at the edge of the counter. a rhythmic motion; forefinger, middle finger, ring finger, over and over again.

it’s a little bit distracting. when he moves his hand a certain way, his big sweater sleeve rides up just a tiny bit, showing off the blue veins of his inner wrist. you think you catch a glimpse of a mole or two on his pale skin, and you swallow down a gulp, feeling a little like a victorian man seeing a girl’s ankle.

and then finally, you locate the image in question. swiftly showing him the cover of the book you were assigned to read. he squints a little, blinking drowsily, a flutter of his pretty eyelashes that has your heart skipping a beat.

you clear your throat.

”i’m supposed to read it before christmas break, but i couldn’t find it at our library…” you tilt your head, a little sheepish. ”do you have it here?”

he stares at the screen for just a second more. then he’s angling his head to the left, finger pointing towards a corner of the store. ”it should be over there,” he hums. monotone.

a tentative smile forms on your lips. you thank him, and his eyes find yours.

all he does is shake his head, softly, brushing you off — a silent don’t worry about it. maybe a tad gruff, but you sense an acute gentleness to it. something tender, kind of. or maybe you’d just like to believe the kindness you sense in his eyes is real, more than just a delusion.

but you don’t have time to dwell on it. the boy behind the counter goes back to reading, cradling the spine with his pretty hands. when he tries to grab the handle of his mug, one of the rings on his fingers knock against the ceramic, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

you go to hunt down your own book, still thinking about his voice, how it trickled like honey from out his lips.

the bookstore is entirely empty, tonight. no loud noises drilling into your groggy brain, no people to chatter amongst themselves and disrupt the illusion of peace you gain when you spend time here. a tiny respite, from your studies, from the stress and fatigue that you’ve come to associate with winter. hunting for christmas gifts, finishing late assignments, trudging through the snow. pretending that you have it all together.

but here, none of that matters.

a sense of calm washes over you, as your eyes trail over the books by the science fiction section, and a soft sigh tumbles from your throat. gradually, your hands begin to warm up, and you look out the window.

outside, the world is blanketed by a veil of snow and frost, pure whites and murky grays as far as the eye can see. falling down to earth, smothering everything in a bitter chill. a cold, cold embrace. but when looking at it like this, from inside a cozy bookstore, with a pretty boy by the counter…

it's a breathtaking sight.

little snowflakes descending, dancing in the wind. desaturating your world. if you close your eyes and focus, you think you can almost feel the wind nip at your fingertips, almost taste the fragrance of dried tea leaves and caramel fudge from the tiny shop across the street. almost bask in the green and red of the decorative lights in the skeletal trees, illuminating the city, buzzing with artificial warmth.

(your heart feels light.)

it doesn’t take long for you to find the book you need. keeping it safe and warm between your arm and torso, you walk back to the counter, gaze still lingering on the windowpane. the little snowflakes fluttering about, the glimpses you catch of passerby and their knit scarves in the darkness of the winter evening.

the boy behind the counter is as efficient as ever. he takes the book, fingertips resting exactly where yours just were, and scans it in a matter of seconds. you pay, and he puts it in a plastic bag, handing it to you — all while his copy of wuthering heights sits on the counter, pointedly, as if beckoning you to mention it.

before you can think to stop yourself, you’ve parted your lips.

”is it good?” you ask. finger pointing at his book.

the boy blinks. eyelashes fluttering. once, then twice. he seems a little caught off guard, but still speaks within a split second. almost like he doesn’t even think about the answer. ”yeah.”

a hum buzzes in your throat. you shift a little, from foot to foot, plastic bag in hand. ”i’ve been meaning to read it,” you say, desperate to prolong the conversation, ”but i haven't had much time lately.”

a chuckle slips from your lips. it comes out sounding just a little exhausted.

(he glances at the dark bags beneath your eyes, but you don’t notice.)

”i think i might buy it in time for christmas break, though…” you lift your gaze to meet his own. showing the briefest glimpse of a smile, polite.

he doesn’t return it. lips pursed, silent, gazing at you with slightly lidded eyes. a navy blue, little splotches of a murky green blooming in the corners of his iris. they only appear when you’re this close. soothing, somehow. they’re pretty.

he isn’t saying anything, not a single word, and some part of your heart clogs up like a clump of wet snow. subconsciously, you trap your bottom lip between your teeth, digging into the soft flesh before letting go. cowering a little under his intense gaze.

did you annoy him?

(he probably doesn’t want to talk to you. maybe he thinks you’re hitting on him, or something. are you hitting on him? that doesn’t matter. he must be stressed — it’s holiday season, after all. the last thing he needs is some annoying customer taking up his precious reading time.

gosh, what were you even thinking?)

you’re just about to excuse yourself, mentally berating yourself for forcibly striking up a conversation with an obvious introvert —

when the sound of something sliding against wooden material catches your attention.

you blink.

the boy behind the counter does a little cough. under his breath, clearing his throat. he wets his lips, in what you immediately recognize as nervosity — absentmindedly fidgeting with the rings on his fingers.

”here.”

when you look down, a certain book is placed on the edge of the counter, right in front of you. wuthering heights.

another blink. you look down at the hardcover, and then back up at him, but he’s not meeting your gaze. if you look closely, you think you see a slight flush to his neck, red like a candy cane.

”you can borrow it,” he says. a pause. then he continues, clearing his throat again, a hint of hesitance in his raspy voice. ”… if you want to, i mean.”

”… ah.” is all you can answer. barely a word, more of a weak little hum. an absent tremble of your voice.

outside the comfort and warmth of the bookstore, the wind whistles, digging its claws into the city. tiny whirlwinds of snowflakes dance from street to street, fluttering about joyously. you vaguely pick up on the song from the speakers changing, into a poppy christmas-themed kpop song.

a moment passes.

your muddled mind finally reacts. on instinct, sending little instructions to your frozen limbs. to your heart, face down on the floor, completely useless.

”oh — no, there’s no need!” you blurt out, putting your hands up hastily. waving him off. ”it’s fine, i can just buy my own copy!”

but the boy only clicks his tongue, with that signature furrow of his brows. ”you’re a student,” he states, just a little gruff. but then there’s that kindness. ”you shouldn’t waste your money.”

you’re just about to protest, when he continues. ”besides,” he sighs. ”i’ve already read it. you can just bring it back whenever you’re done.”

and again, your instinctual desire is to protest. unsure of what to say, somehow exasperated by his trust. that’s what it is, isn’t it? trust. trusting a stranger, a customer he’s barely even spoken to, not to just take his book and then never return. trusting you to be a decent person. a good person.

isn’t that naive?

something sprouts like a snowdrop in a ridge between your ribs, though, and you know that it’s happiness of some kind. you’re glad, that he has something even vaguely similar to trust in you.

glad that he’s acknowledging you, in a way. your presence, the sneaky glances shared between you. the comfortable feeling that sleeps inside your veins when it's just you and him, silently passing each other by, in a quiet bookstore that feels a little like heaven on earth. a safe haven, of sorts, with no incompetent professors, tight deadlines or numb fingers.

it’s just him, and cozy christmas music, and a pitter patter rhythm of your heartbeat that sounds a little like jingle bells to your muddled mind.

a lump forms in the back of your throat. you gulp it back down, and part your lips. an unsure question spills into the open air.

”are… you really sure?”

”yeah.” he doesn’t even skip a beat. fingers tapping at the edge of the counter, over and over again. another slow moment passes. ”we can… talk. about it.” he coughs into his closed fist. ”once you've read it.”

with a soft furrow of his brows, he averts his gaze. his voice comes out sounding soft, albeit a little rough around the edges. ”if you want,” he adds.

you’re so distracted by the flutter of his long eyelashes that you barely even feel your lips stretch into a smile. your hearts skips around happily within the confines of your ribcage, and you’re worried that you might look a little too excited — but how could you ever hide your joy, when he’s acting so dangerously, uncharacteristically cute?

”yeah!” you blurt, teeth peeking out when you flash him a bright smile. and finally, he meets your gaze. pretty eyes fixed entirely on you.

at your evident enthusiasm, his shoulders seem to relax. the rapid tapping of his fingers ceases, and he opts to simply bite down on his lip — attempting to obscure his own smile. but you see it, anyway; a tiny, tiny smile. the softest little curl of his lips. you’re entirely mesmerized, all the same.

a hand goes to rub at the back of his neck, and he does that cute little cough again, and you wonder if the warmth sprouting in your chest will be enough to protect you from the snowfall on your way back home.

angelic; that’s the impression he always seems to leave you with. you wonder if he has any idea just how pretty he is. if he has the slightest clue. you wonder if you’ll ever be able to tell him, yourself.

you wonder if you’ll get to know him, someday. if you’ll ever get to know the pretty, quiet boy behind the counter of your go-to bookstore, who radiates a softness so palpable you wish you could stay there until spring blooms beyond the windows and melts the frosted glass.

with tentative hands, a little shaky — not from the cold, but the anxious and excited tingle of your bloodstream — you reach for the book on the counter. taking it into your arms, cradling it gently, like it’s so fragile the pages could scatter away if you aren’t careful. with a steady hand on its spine, you begin to flip through the pages, until three little words on the first blank page catch your attention.

without thinking, you repeat the little scribbled down sentence under your breath. hoping for something. more lulls of his voice, maybe, mumbling to yourself but hoping he’ll hear.

”happy birthday, tsumiki…”

the boy stiffens.

a silent beat. then he clears his throat. ”my sister,” he explains, and you hum.

so he has a sister. a tiny fragment of his existence, now known to you, a little piece of trivia. you want to collect them, want to put them all in your pockets and carry them around, like little precious bells.

”megumi,” he blurts out, sudden, and you look up from the book to meet his gaze. ”my name,” he elaborates. and then a pause. ”i work here.”

…

in a matter of seconds, his face reddens. ears and neck slathered over with that sweet cherry hue, blooming across his pale skin. a soft giggle slips from your lips, before you can think to bite it back, and that red hue exacerbates.

”mm,” you hum, an amused smile on your face. eyes crinkling as you look at him, book safe and secure in your arms. ”i've seen you.”

megumi looks a bit like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. squirming slightly, shifting from foot to foot, tugging a little at the sleeve of his sweater. looking into your eyes, and then back at the counter.

it’s sweet. it makes you feel closer to him, somehow. like you aren’t the only nervous one here. like you aren’t the only person in this city who’s a little bit of a mess.

(it makes the sludge piling up inside your brain feel just a little more bearable.)

”… thank you.” you smile. ”i’ll take good care of it. and i’ll bring it right back when i finish it.”

a low hum. megumi brings a hand up to fix his bangs, nimble fingers running through dark locks. absentminded — a nervous habit, maybe? ”don’t worry about it,” is all he says.

again, that sweet dichotomy; a hint of something gruff, hiding an unmistakable softness. a little like snow. cold to the touch, enough to make you want to stay away, but then it melts on the skin of your palm. turns soft and warm beneath your touch.

unable to fully hide the smile still lingering on your lips, you allow yourself one final inhale — letting that scent of peppermint and espresso invade your mind, soothing every frazzled nerve inside your brain. then you put wuthering heights in your bag, protected and snug, and get ready to leave.

it’s still snowing. if anything, it seems to have gotten worse, enough that all you see when you glance towards the frosted windows are little clumps of snowflakes. obscuring everything else.

just when you’re about to speak, say a little goodbye, a voice spills out into the air.

”… the snow’s supposed to get worse. apparently.”

his navy eyes carry a gentle hue, as they look into yours. maybe a little worried, like a protective mother wolf towards her cub. you blink, and megumi sees it as his cue to continue.

”you can stay until it gets better.”

a brief pause. his signature cough reaches your ears, and it’s enough to have you smiling, even before he adds a tiny if you feel like it. nonchalant, or at least you think that’s what he’s going for. he mostly just sounds like an awfully caring person trying awfully hard to appear uncaring.

and again, a little smile slips itself into the curl of your lips. all giddy and nervous, a little flustered. but happy. now you won’t have to walk through the relentless snowfall outside, feel the wind chew at your reddened cheekbones. now you can spend just a bit more time with him, bask in those quiet, drawn out moments of pure peace, browsing through books while he sits and reads behind the counter.

”thanks,” you breathe. adjusting your knitted scarf. ”i think i'll look at the books a little more, then.”

megumi’s eyes soften. relieved, you think. hope. it’s a subtle shift, but still enough to notice, enough to see. little splotches of a mossy green sinking into that sea of ink blue.

you think he must feel a little embarrassed, though. like he’s gotten too close to broaching the line he’s set up between the two of you. because he quickly fixes his gaze entirely on a book in his hands, a new one — was it just waiting beneath the counter?

you don't think much of it, but you note that he's back to his usual nonfiction. something on astronomy, you think.

and with one final glance at his tousled hair, you begin to stroll through the store. languidly, walking to whatever spine captures your attention. savouring the tiny words on the back of the books, wallowing in the peppermint and espresso that wafts through the air, only growing heavier while you’re busy admiring the white opaque frosting of the windows’ glass.

at some point, the low whirring of a coffee machine buzzes from afar, and when you turn to the counter megumi isn’t there.

a little later, when he comes back, he’ll be carrying two mugs — matching dogs etched into the ceramic, one black and one white. he’ll put one of them on the edge of the counter, closest to you, and then meet your eyes. give a vague nod towards it, but nothing else. you’ll notice the red tint to his ears, though.

and when you do, a warmth will blossom in your chest, enough to chase away the phantom ache of the winter chill soon to envelop you.

when the little bell of the bookstore jingles its jolly tune, and the door shuts itself as you cross the threshold to leave, megumi lets out a barely audible sigh.

he thinks his heart may be beating just a smidge faster than usual, a little out of rhythm. palms against the counter, he allows his eyes to flutter shut — trying not to acknowledge the heat he feels on his face when he finally begins to process your interaction.

he smooths a hand over his face, skin just a little sweaty. chewing at his bottom lip with two sharp teeth.

god.

really, it was no more than a stupid twist of luck. that you happened to come in just when he started reading it, that you noticed and didn’t question him on any of the contents. that you believed him when he said he’d already finished it.

and, sure, maybe he was secretly really hoping you’d come in. really hoping you’d notice it, that it’d be enough to make you strike up a conversation with him, something, anything.

he happened to see you eyeing it once, that’s all. twice, and then thrice, each on different occasions. tsumiki’s old collection came in handy, rotting on the dusty shelves of her room — although he has no memory of her ever reading it.

(he remembers some, though. remembers her reading a few of them to him, on nights he couldn’t sleep. remembers the soft lull of her voice, how the whole world seemed blanketed by a wool of safety.

he wonders if he’ll ever get to hear it again.)

megumi’s heart feels warm. despite everything.

even though he didn’t even get past the first half of wuthering heights, and has no idea what the hell he’s going to be able to talk to you about. even though he thinks heathcliff is a dick and catherine is a brat, and wishes they could save everyone else the trouble and just talk to a psychiatrist.

even with the cold baring its fangs outside, and the cup of espresso sitting right in front of him, still untouched, made with the store’s shitty coffee machine. even in the ugly sweater gojo forced him into. even though he doesn’t even really know you, not even at all, and still somehow feels certain that you’ll come back with tsumiki’s book in tow.

trust.

megumi thinks it’s a little weird, how just that single overlapping of your gazes when you first stepped in seemed to solidify such an abstract notion. he’s always had a sense of it, though — a sense of goodness. an ability to seek them out, those good people, bubbly and cheerful and so tragically hard not to love.

no matter where he goes, he ends up finding them. like tiny sunflower seeds persisting beneath the winter snow. blooming when spring comes around, in a burst of golden vermillion.

resting his jaw on the heel of his palm, megumi allows himself to wallow in the solitude of the bookstore. tired eyes soaking up the words on the pages he flips through, slowly, utterly at ease. drinking his shitty coffee, trying to ignore the itchy feeling of the sweater on his skin, unable to forget the memory of your stupidly pretty smile.

so pretty he thinks it might just keep him warm, all throughout winter, until you return once more. bringing with you the glimmer of snowflakes on soft skin, and a pleasant fragrance of tea leaves from the cozy shop across the street.

a single sunflower, persisting even through the cold.

megumi smiles. a tiny curl of his chapped lips, while he flips the pages of his book. content in the knowledge that this won’t be the last time he speaks to you.

(now he just needs to read up on some good papers on wuthering heights.)

#im just thinking abt ….. bookstore gumi who goes out of his way to only work the quiet lazy shifts . and all he does is drink coffee n read #so its like his selfcare time and he hates customers n gets annoyed when they come in PHDJD…. acting like he owns the store #but then u come in !! :< n ur presence is just so gentle and soothing . n the more he sees you the prettier u get in his eyes.#so he tries to silently impress u </3 reading ur fave books even if he doesnt like them <//3 cutie #just to be clear if a bookstore employee randomly offers u a cup of coffee Do Not drink it . even if hes hot. stay safe ✌️#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro #megumi x y/n #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x gender neutral reader

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railingsofsorrow · 4 months ago

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tiny

[spencer reid]

summary: diana reid has her dad wrapped around her pinky

pairing: none

warnings/content: dad & daughter moments; minor character death (mentioned)

a/n: stay with this fluffy blurb with dad!spencer. I wrote this at 1am trying to sleep. sorry I've been MIA I've been really busy with uni :(

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

spencer is too absorbed in the doctor who's episode playing on tv to properly pay attention to his surroundings. but he does, either way, because the soft pitter-patter of small feet following to the living room in a rapid pace is engrained into his brain.

so when the small body of his five year old jumps on his stomach, causing him to let out a huff in mock surprise, he already knows the drill.

he knows all of diana's tells and quirks when she wakes up in the middle of the night.

“hi, tiny.”

the little girl squirms on top of him, pursing her lips in a pout that makes spencer wants to fit her in his pocket.

“'m not tiny, daddy.”

“okay.” his lips twitches as he attempts to fix her messy honey brown curls. it's foolish. she got his hair and that's a fact. “can't sleep? I just tucked you in.”

“it's been forty-five minutes and fourteen seconds, daddy.” she retorts, sitting up on his stomach to cross her arms to make her look invincible. “fourteen seconds when I leave my bed.”

“when you left your bed?” spencer corrects her english while adjusting her winnie the pooh pajamas because it's all crooked.

ever since she learned how to count and how to learn the time — spencer taught her the latter one time when they were waiting in the doctor's office and she just kept asking every time she saw a clock on the wall — she's been ready to tell him whenever he's late to pick her up from school or literally use it as an argument to prove he's wrong about something.

“are you not sleepy anymore?”

she gives him a tight-lipped smile he feels like looking in the mirror every time. “no.”

spencer bops her nose and pats his chest. she lays down with a giddy smile, curling up against his chest, half her body resting against the couch. spencer remembers when she was too tiny he was scared she would fall off if he as much as moved an inch.

his heart pinches at the thought that his little girl is growing up.

“daddy,” diana whispers, he knows a request is coming.

“mhm?”

“play that episode?”

spencer stretches his arm with difficulty to grab the remote. they may have watched the episode around twenty seven times, but she loves it and he can't say he's tired. if anything, it will help her to sleep again.

“can we light a candle for grandma tomorrow?”

spencer is rubbing her back soothingly and he can feel she's about to drift off when she asks the question. we light a candle for the ones who have passed, so we talk to them. it helps when we miss them. he told diana once when she was trying to grasp the fact that some people that used to be around her were no longe there. she doesn't fully get the concept of death yet, she's too young. but lighting a candle not only brings her comfort but provides it for spencer, too.

like an old friend once told him it would.

“do you want to do it now?” he asks, tone of voice bordering on a whisper to not disturb her.

diana usually holds two of his fingers when she's falling asleep. spencer read a study that toddlers often search for sensations familiar to them as babies. touching and skin-to-skin contact, for instance. these behaviours are a result of forming neural pathways and helping a child feel a sense of security.

she doesn't answer him, just holds his fingers with her tiny hands as her soft snores take over. he watches his daughter fall asleep with a soft smile on his lips, hands cradling her to his chest. at last, he kisses the crown of her head and turns his neck to watch the rest of the doctor who episode he already knows every line of.

diana doesn't wake up in the middle of the night again, she's fast asleep, drooling when he walks up to her bedroom before he goes to his.

he can't help but linger at the doorway, thinking about what he wants to say to his mom tomorrow when they light up the candle and if she would be proud of him today.

he hopes she is.

#criminal minds fanfiction #girl dad spencer #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #girldad!spencer reid #dad!spencer reid

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kenziesimsblog · 1 month ago

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STRUCK BY LOVE (SIMS 3 VERSION)

STRUCK BY LOVE SIMS 3 VERSION

ORIGINAL BY @fruitysimsy and @hellohopesims

(thank you so much for giving me permission to make a sims 3 version fruitysimsy <3)

ORIGINAL LEGACY LINK FOR THE RULES FOR THE SIMS 4 VERSION: https://www.tumblr.com/fruitysimsy/754868387871621120/im-like-hey-whats-up-hello-were?source=share

AND BLURBS FOR EACH GEN

3 traits are required each gen the others you can pick yourself since sims 4 only has 3 traits!

GEN 1 : AGE GAP

colors: brown and red

lifetime wish: professional author career: self employed writer traits: bookworm, over-emotional, hopeless romantic skills: charisma, handiness, and writing

goals: complete professional writer lifetime wish complete self-employed writer career max charisma , handiness and writing skills start dating + get pregnant by a sim 0-3 days after aging up into a young adult get married as an adult have at least one more child catch spouse cheating and move into an apartment fall in love with your young adult next door neighbor

GEN 2: GRUMPY X SUNSHINE

colors: green and neutral

lifetime wish: heartbreaker career: music (any branch) traits : commitment issues, grumpy, perfectionist skills: instruments and guitar

goals: complete heartbreaker lifetime wish complete music career max instruments and guitar skills travel to 3 different worlds before beginning career woohoo with a sim each night you are gone have a self discovery and lose your "commitment issues" trait marry a previous one night stand (must have excitable trait) have at least 2 kids

GEN 3: SINGLE PARENT AND THE NANNY

colors: blue and pink

lifetime wish: celebrated five star chef career: culinary traits: diva, natural cook, perfectionist skills: cooking, charisma and mixology

goals: complete celebrated five star chef lifetime wish complete cooking, charisma and mixology skills go to uni and get a degree in fine arts before starting career move in with single parent and become a full time caregiver for there child fall in love and marry the single parent complete culinary career have 2 more kids

GEN 4: BEST FRIENDS BROTHER

colors: purple and green

lifetime wish: the perfect garden career: self-employed gardener traits: green thumb, hopeless romantic, loves the outdoors skills: gardening and nectar making (optional get the flower arranging mod)

goals: complete the perfect garden lifetime wish complete gardener career max gardening and nectar making skills secretly date your best friends elder brother accidentally get pregnant before announcing your relationship have one set of multiples have the same best friend your whole life

GEN 5: ENEMIES TO LOVERS

colors: blue and maroon

lifetime wish: CEO of mega cooperation career: business traits: athletic, genius , hopeless romantic skills: charisma, logic and athletic

goals: complete CEO lifetime wish complete business career complete athletic, logic and charisma skills have a get together once a week with friends fall in love and marry your workplace rival have at least 3 kids

GEN 6: LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

colors: orange and yellow

lifetime wish: physical perfection career: professional sports traits: athletic, adventurous, snob skills: athletic, logic and martial arts

goals: complete physical perfection lifetime wish complete professional sports career complete skills go to uni for physical education and marry a fellow jock go to spa twice a week and jog everyday before work have a self discovery and lose snob trait have at least one set of multiples

GEN 7: SIBLING RIVALRY

colors: lime green and pink

lifetime wish: swimming in cash career: none or a self employed traits: adventurous, disciplined, dramatic skills: athletic, social networking and collecting

goals: complete lifetime wish complete career if chosen complete skills after graduation move in with sibling fight with sibling over the same sim marry that sim have at least one child

GEN 8: FRIENDS W/ BENEFITS

colors: gold and navy

lifetime wish: the tinkerer career: real estate (according to carls guide its a career) traits : schmoozer, dramatic, ambitious skills: charisma, handiness, and inventing

goals: complete lifetime wish complete skills become friends w benefits with a tenant from purchased apartment complex fall in love with FWB and get married move to riverview or appaloosa plains to start family own at least one horse have at least 3 kids

GEN 9: CHILDHOOD SWEETHEARTS

colors: orange and cream

lifetime wish: surrounded by family career: stay at home mom traits: animal lover, family oriented, irresistible skills: riding , gardening and painting

goals: complete lifetime wish complete skills win at least 3 horse competitions have at least one horse (if possible get cows and chickens from sims 3 store or for free) marry childhood best friend have as many children as possible barely use electronics

GEN 10: SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE

colors: red and purple

lifetime wish: surrounded by family career: education career traits: family oriented , hopeless romantic , genius skills: athletic , logic, and charisma

goals: complete lifetime wish complete education career complete skills have one partner during high school have a pregnancy scare before going to uni and break up marry someone you meet a uni lose your spouse run into your ex and give them a second chance

#sims 3 gameplay #sims 3 blog #ts3cc #sims 3 screenshots #simblr #ts3 #sims 3 legacy #sims 3 legacy challenge

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world-of-wales · 5 months ago

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HAPPY 42ND BIRTHDAY TO HRH THE PRINCE OF WALES, WILLIAM ARTHUR PHILIP LOUIS ♡

On 21 June 1982, Prince William was born to Diana and Charles, then known as Prince and Princess of Wales in St Mary's Hospital, London, at at 21:03 BST. He was born during the reign of his paternal grandmother Elizabeth II and was the first child born to a Prince and Princess of Wales since Prince John's birth in July 1905.

The little prince's name was announced on 28 June as William Arthur Philip Louis. Wills was christened in the Music Room of Buckingham Palace by the then Archbishop of Canterbury, Robert Runcie, on 4 August.

William studied at Jane Mynors' nursery school and Wetherby School in London before joining Ludgrove. He was subsequently admitted to Eton College, studying geography, biology, and history at the A-level.

The Prince undertook a gap year taking part in British Army training exercises in Belize, working on English dairy farms, and as part of the Raleigh International programme in southern Chile, William worked for ten weeks on local construction projects and taught English.

In 2001, William enrolled at the University of St Andrews, initially to study Art History but then changed his field of study to Geography with the support of the love of his life Catherine Elizabeth Middleton who he met while at school.

Will and Cat fell in love during their time at uni, and married at Westminster Abbey on 29 April 2011. The couple have three adorable cupcakes Prince George (b.2013), Princess Charlotte (b.2015) and Prince Louis (b.2018). The family of five divide time between their official residence, Kensington Palace and their two private residences - Amner Hall & Adelaide Cottage.

After university, William trained at the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst. In 2008, he graduated from the Royal Air Force College Cranwell and joined the RAF Search and Rescue Force in early 2009. He transferred to RAF Valley, Anglesey, to receive training on the Sea King search and rescue helicopter, which made him the first member of the British royal family since Henry VII to live in Wales.

During his active career as a Search and Rescue Pilot, William conducted 156 search and rescue operations, which resulted in 149 people being rescued. He then served as a full-time pilot with the East Anglian Air Ambulance starting in July 2015, donating his full salary to the EAAA charity.

Working with all branches of the military, he holds the ranks of Lieutenant Colonel in the Army, Commander in the Navy and Wing Commander in the Air-Force

Upon their wedding, WillCat became HRH The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, The Earl and Countess of Strathearn and Baron and Lady Carrickfergus. He became the heir apparent on 8 September 2022, receiving the titles of the Duke of Cornwall & The Duke of Rothesay. William & Catherine were made The Prince and Princess of Wales by Kimg Charles on 9 September 2022. Additionally, William also became the Prince & High Steward of Scotland, Earl of Chester, Earl of Carrick, Lord of the Isles, and Baron Renfrew.

As well as undertaking royal duties in support of The King, both in the UK and overseas, The Prince devotes his time supporting a number of charitable causes and organisations with some of his key areas of interest being Mental health, Conservation, Homelessness, Sports and Emergency Workers.

He has undertaken several overseas trips representing the monarch, covering a wide array of countries like Australia, Canada, Namibia, Malaysia, South Africa, Tanzania, Pakistan Italy, Jordan, Kuwait, France, India, The Bahamas, Belize, Afghanistan etc ; He is also is also a founder of various initiatives like United For Wildlife, Heads Together, Earthshot and Homewards.

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leossmoonn · 2 years ago

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All Along

masterlist

pairing - xavier thorpe x fem!reader

type - smut, fluff 16+

summary - coming to xavier for comfort, you get something else

warnings / includes - language, smut with plot!! (sorry not sorry) bsf to lovers, oblivious idiots in love, cheating, toxic relationship, semi soft sex, body worship, first time sex, unprotected sex (this is fiction, use protection in real life) alternate uni where xavier doesn’t like Wednesday (romantically)

————

*gif isn’t mine*

You wrap your arms around yourself tighter, sniffling as you walk through the forest. The leaves crunch under your sneakers, branches snapping with each stomp you make. You walk as fast as you can, needing some relief after the horrible fight you’ve just had.

Another argument sparked with your boyfriend. Surprised? No. Hurt? Yes. Annoyingly, so. Each fight seems worse, and no matter how redundant the topics are, your boyfriend manages to say worse things each time. You’re always left sobbing and alone.

But tonight you decided to reach out to the person who always told you to come to him when you needed a friend. You were going to see how well he was going to keep his word.

You softly knock on his door, shivering in the chilly night. You put your ear up to his door, hearing silence. You purse your lips and look back, debating whether or not to go. He doesn’t need to be bothered at this time of night. Not when it’s over relationship drama.

You begin to turn around, but you stop as you hear the door unlock. You turn back around, seeing Xavier in his pajamas and navy blue shirt. His hair is tousled and tangled, sticking up every which way.

“Y/n? What’re you doing here?” he asks, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

You let out a shaky breath, about to start crying again. Just thinking about your argument made you shed tears. You didn’t know how you were going to be able to articulate it.

Xavier becomes more alert as he sees a few tears run down your cheeks. He softly but firmly grabs your hand, pulling you into his dorm. He pulls you into a hug, wrapping his long arms around your back. You melt into him, thankful for the warmth and the comfort. You begin to cry more into his chest, hiccuping and snotting all over his robe.

He rubs your back soothingly, presses a light kiss to the crown of your head. The hand that’s not rubbing your back cradles the back of your head, holding you ever closer. You two stay there for a few good minutes before you are ready to pull away and speak.

Your throat is scratchy and your eyes bloodshot. Streaks of tears seem to be imprinted on your face. Your lips are puffy and swollen, some snot drying from the corners of your nostrils. But Xavier notices none of that. He cups your face, wiping the remaining tears with his thumb. His brows are furrowed as he looks back forth between your eyes, trying to conjure up his own explanation of why you’re crying in his arms at 2:28 AM.

“Let’s sit down,” he says softly, his voice hoarse from just waking up. He leads you to his bed, wrapping a blanket around you to keep you warm. He interlocks hands with you, keeping them warm. “What did he say to you?”

“Same old shit,” you sigh. “Accusing me, blaming me, shit-talking me, making rumors up about me.”

Xavier sighs heavily. You see him roll his eyes out from the corner of your eye.

“Did he hurt you?” he asks. “I mean, yeah. I’m crying,” you chuckle sourly.

“Did he touch you?” he clarifies. “No,” you shake your head. “You know he’s not like that.”

“He’s still an asshole,” he mutters. “Definitely,” you nod. “First he tells his buddies that I’m great in bed, then he accuses me of cheating, again. I mean, if he’s going to accuse me of something, he could at least change it up. Like I killed someone, or something,” you scoff.

Xavier chuckles a little. You glance at him and half smile.

“He shouldn’t be going around telling anybody about your business,” he states.

“I know, and I’ve told him. And he always promises he’ll shut up, but the next day I’m the talk of the school again!” you exclaim, frustrated.

Xavier thinks back to what he’s heard his peers say about you behind your back. Over-sexualizing you to the point where it makes him sick to his stomach. He would be lying if he said he had never thought about you sexually, but only briefly. Mostly in passing when he notices the nice dress you might be wearing, or if his mind wanders too far when he’s about to go to sleep. But the comments he hears are vile and disgusting. And especially since they are from your boyfriend who is supposed to be respecting your boundaries.

“I hope you know that when I hear those comments, I try to shut them down,” Xavier says.

Your smile now is bigger than the one before. “Really?”

“Yep,” he nods proudly. “I almost punched a guy once,” he admits.

“I appreciate it,” you pat his hand. “But you don’t need to be playing hero for me. This is my issue. My problem. My relationship.”

“Just because it’s your relationship doesn’t mean you can’t have help,” Xavier states.

You nod slowly and huff, your shoulder sagging. “But this is my own mess. I’m so stupid, Xavi.”

Xavier furrows his brows, squeezing your hand for support. “You’re not stupid.”

“Yes, I am. I mean, we fight and don’t talk to each other for a day. Then he says nice things to me and kisses me and… and I’m reminded of the guy that I fell I love with,” you mumble.

Your words are like a punch to the gut for Xavier. His hand that’s not holding yours balls into a fist, his knuckles becoming white. He wants to tell you to leave him. That this vicious cycle is toxic, but it’s nothing you don’t know already. Your boyfriend just has you under his ridiculous spell.

Maybe he could tell you. If you’ll allow him.

“Tell me if I’m overstepping, okay?” Xavier asks.

You nod and sit silently, anxious to hear what he has to say.

“Maybe he was never they guy you fell in love with. Have you ever thought that this guy who constantly is hurting you is the real him?”

This makes your heart drop. You feel sick to your stomach. You feel ridiculous now. Of course you have thought about that. This is what Wednesday told you after your second fight with him. But you stay with him because, well, you’re naive enough to fall for his apologies and sweet talk.

You’re so worthless, you think. So pathetic. Staying with a guy who is a piece of shit, and treats you like a bigger one. You can’t help but cry again.

Xavier’s eyes widens in panic. He regrets what he said. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut. You came to him looking for comfort, not advice. Not the truth. And now he’s made you do the one thing he swore he would never make you do: cry.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, getting up and spinning in circles to try and find tissues.

“Xavier,” you call out, voice breaking. He ignores you, still trying to find those tissues and thinking of ways to make you feel better.

“Xavier,” you say louder. You groan as he still doesn’t face you. “Xavier!” you shout.

He spins around, box of tissues in his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re right. I know it, and you definitely do. It just.. sucks to hear,” you laugh breathily.

He nods, gulping hard. He sits back down next to you, holding out the tissues for you. You take them thankfully, blowing your nose and dabbing your eyes. You stay silent for a couple of minutes.

Xavier waits patiently for you to collect your thoughts, admiring you in the meantime. Your eyes are glassy from the tears, but you still have a spark in your eye that he loves to see. Your shirt, that’s ironically your boyfriend’s, hangs off of your shoulder slightly. Your leg bounces up and down as you twiddle with the hem of the shirt. In the dim light of his room, Xavier can see the dark circles under your eyes from the nights that he’s sure are full of screaming and crying instead of sleeping peacefully.

God, what he would to kiss you right now.

“I’ll end it with him tomorrow,” you decide.

Xavier’s eyes light up. He tries to contain the joy in his face, but fails embarrassingly. He grabs your hand that’s on your bed, squeezing it.

“I-I’m happy to hear that,” he stammers. “I know,” you chuckle. “You hate him.”

“Well, I can’t exactly like the guy that makes you feel like shit,” he snorts.

“Thank you for helping me,” you smile.

You hug him tightly, closing your eyes and burying your face into his shoulder. He quickly wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him. He kisses your forehead as you pull away. You smile softly, your breath becoming caught in your throat. You notice his eyes flutter down to your lips, eyeing them for a few moments. His hazel eyes meet yours. Even in the low light, you can see the golden brown flecks around his pupils.

His hand cups your cheek again, bringing your face closer. Your heart pounds in your chest. You can hear it in your ears. Your eyes frantically look over him, studying his body language. His other hand rests on your mid-thigh, warmth from his palm spreading to just below your waist.

“Xavier, what’re you doing?” you whisper.

“I…” he fails to get out the words. He’s so nervous, he can barely speak. He’s been waiting for this moment for a year now, as pathetic as it sounds.

“I thought you liked Wednesday,” you wonder.

Xavier’s brows raise and he pulls back. “Where did to get that idea?”

“You’re always following her around like a lost puppy. You even were excited about going to the Rave’N with her,” you explain.

“I was following her around because she found about my club, remember? And I wanted to get to know her more, but as friend. I don’t like her like that. Not like I like you,” he says. Saying that is like a weight has lifted off of his shoulders. Even if you don’t feel the same, which he is ready to accept, at least he is not carrying this huge secret with him. Maybe you two can still continue to be friends, too. He’d be willing to suck it up for you.

Your heart jumps with excitement. You never thought about Xavier liking you. Well, there was a tiny chance when you started dating your boyfriend. Xavier would hang around more, blatantly insult your boyfriend, try to get Ajax to stone him even. He stopped after a week or so once he realized you were serious about the guy. Not so say you weren’t, but you did miss Xavier’s efforts to get your attention.

But now you’re completely done with your boyfriend. You realize you’ve been for a while now. You’ve just been hanging on to whatever you thought you could still make work. It’s clear to you now that nothing could fix you, too, except for breaking up. That solution sounds very good. And to be frank, kissing Xavier sounds even better.

“Did I say too much?” Xavier asks, his voice a tiny bit above a whisper.

“No,” you shake your head, beginning to smile from ear to ear. “You’ve said just enough.” you bridge the gap between you two. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, your fingers sifting through his tousled hair. You bring your body up close to his, lightly pressing your chest against his.

He’s shocked and you can tell. He doesn’t reciprocate until you pull away. He brings you back, his arms holding you even closer. You sit up on your knees, taking a shallow breath as you move him to the middle of his bed. He crawls backwards until his back hits the backboard. You straddle his hips, feeling his boner up against your thigh.

Your hands slips down to his shirt, lifting it up slowly. He raises his arms, your kiss breaking for a few seconds before your lips meet again. Your teeth clash with each other, tongues tasting each other. The kiss is sloppy now, needy and fervent, but passionate.

You run your hands down his chest, his hot skin burning the palms of your hands. His hands snake under your boyfriend’s shirt, feeling your bare back. You place your hands at the bottom of your shirt, taking it off.

Xavier’s eyes practically bulge out of his head. Your tits sit so pretty, your nipples hard as a rock as the cold air nips them. He becomes impossibly harder, feeling the pre-cum soak the waistband of his underwear.

He doesn’t waste any time staring. He dives down and kisses your neck, sucking harshly on your smooth skin. He places sweet kisses along your shoulders, licking a trial down the valley between your breasts. He attaches his mouth to your nipple, raising his hand to massage your other boob.

“Enjoying yourself?” you snicker, your head tipping back in pleasure.

He looks up at you from your body, his lips sucking your boob. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire now. He smirks as he feels your body temperature rise. You smile shyly in reply. Without warning, he grabs your hips, lifting you up and flipping you two over. Your head hits the pillows, back sinking down into the mattress. You look up and see Xavier settling between your thighs. His hair cascades down his face, creating shadows over his cheeks.

Your run your hands through his hair, tucking the strands behind his ears. He smiles down at you, those smile lines you always loved so much creating ripples in his skin. His hands massage your sides, allowing you to relax even further into the bed.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n. I don’t understand how someone could treat you so poorly. You deserve so much more,” he beams, gazing into your eyes.

You lean up to his ear, nibbling on the skin just below it. A thrill runs up his spine, his eyes fluttering close. “Show me, then,” you whisper.

His head is spinning and heart pounding. He nods excitedly, kissing down your stomach, leaving no skin untouched. You let out a breathy moan in need. You want him so bad it hurts. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to obtain the friction you’re craving. He notices how much you’re moving in bed, taking one hand to trail down to your pants. He looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours. His fingers hook under the waistband of your pants. You nod quickly, your own hands shooting down to your pants and practically ripping them off.

You kick off your pants onto the floor, leaving you almost naked. There’s a jolt of excitement that runs through his veins. His hands feels over your black panties, feeling a little wet spot right in the middle. His cock twitches in his pants as he thinks about how wet you must be, and all because of him.

Xavier picks the pace back up, trailing his lips down your stomach. You feel giddy as his lips get closer to your pussy. You feel the heartbeat between your legs, waiting painfully in anticipation for him to touch you.

He places a kiss over your underwear. You’re so pathetic you moan loudly. You buck your hips up, his nose bumping against your mound. He smiles against the fabric, bringing his head down lower to your thighs. He softly sucks your inner thighs, his hands creeping under your panties. His fingers part your pussy lips, slipping inside to feel the warm, slick center. He swallowed hard, throat becoming dry. You’re seeping juices out from your underwear and soaking his bedsheets.

You’re a little embarrassed. He hasn’t done much but kiss and touch you, and you’re already a mess. Despite your boyfriend bragging about you, you two barely ever had sex. And if you did, it wasn’t very good. Tonight was a big relief for you, especially since Xavier is doing so well, too. Your standards are so low, but you know that Xavier will raise them.

He slips two fingers inside, moving them in and out slowly. Your pussy makes a gushing noise, making him smirk up at you. He peers up at you from under his long lashes. You face feels hot as you see his cocky grin.

“You must really be desperate, huh?” he asks. His fingers go in deeper, moving up and down inside of you. He moves his body to tower over you, no wavering in his hand movements. His head hangs down next to your ear. His hair tickles your cheek. Your laugh and moan at the same time, his fingers fucking you feeling so good.

“Let me guess, he doesn’t pleasure you this well, huh?” he whispers.

“Mm-hm,” you shake your head. His other hand is on your thigh. He moves it down to your underwear, slipping under the top and finding your clit with ease. One of your hands flies up to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck, Xavier,” you say breathily. “Shit. Ah… ah, Xavier,” you moan. “Need more,” you whine.

You bring your other hand down between you two, tugging on the drawstring of his pants. Xavier pulls away, getting off the bed and taking off his underwear and pants.

You knew him being 6’2” would give him some length. His cock is an angry red, pre-cum leaking down and coating the sides. Your mind runs wild with how he’ll feel inside of you.

You take off your underwear, leaving both of you naked. He climbs back into the bed, sitting between your thighs. You place your hand on the back of his neck, your fingers entangling themselves in his hair. You bring his head down to yours, kissing him slowly. His heart flutters, ears turning pink as he becomes flustered. Your hand snakes down between you two, wrapping around his dick and giving him a few pumps. The pre-cum runs down your hand and drips onto your thighs.

“Wait,” he pulls away. “Do you not want to do this?” you ask, ready to get out of bed and put your panties back on.

“No, I do. Trust me, I… I really want to. But this is my first time,” he confesses.

You smile brightly, gently taking his hand and intertwining your fingers with his. “It’ll be mine, too.”

He furrows his brows. “I-I thought —?”

“Yeah, I never allowed him to go that far,” you chuckle. “I was waiting for someone special,” you grin, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles.

Pride fills his chest. He can’t wipe the smile off of his face. His cheeks already hurt from smiling so hard. He squeezes your hand, diving down to kiss you. You both are smiling, unable to properly kiss each other. He rests his forehead onto yours, looking into your eyes.

“I’ll go slow. Tell me if it hurts or anything, okay?” he asks.

You nod, spreading your legs. You try to relax as much as you can, but you’re too excited. You’ve always liked Xavier. You’ve always loved him. There’s no doubt in your mind he’s the right person for you, the right person to do this with.

He parts your pussy with his tip, slowly sliding in. Your nails dig into his hand and bicep. You bite your lip harshly, almost drawling blood.

“You okay?” he asks. “Mmhm,” you nod. You take a big deep breath in and out as he continues. “Stop, stop. I-I don’t think I can have you go any further.”

He nods in understanding, kissing your cheek sweetly. “Feels so good to me, anyways. No matter how much of me is inside.”

You giggle at his kind words, capturing his lips into a kiss once more. He slips out of you and slowly enters you, the small amount of friction making him moan in your mouth. One of his hands rests behind your head while the other goes down between you two, finding your clit. You let out a whiny moan, grabbing onto his skin.

He picks up the pace each second and you get more acquainted with his size.

“More,” you demand. He doesn’t question it, slipping another inch into you.

Your toes curl at the end of the bed. You plant your feet into the mattress, bucking your hips up to meet his. You both groan loudly, Xavier’s eyes rolling back while your head tilts back into the pillows, breaking the kiss.

“You feel so good, fuck,” he mumbles. He opens his eyes, looking down and watching as his dick exits and enters you. His pre-cum mixes with your juices, making a sloshing sound.

“Mm, Xavier. Right here,” you gasp. You buck your hips back up, his dick hitting your g-spot with just enough pressure. “Shit. Ju-just like that. Yeah, yeah. Ah, ah! Xavier!” you shout.

His thumb that’s on your clit circles it faster, his hips snapping with yours. Your muscles clench around him, and he’s almost done for. He doesn’t want to come until you do, though. He’s determined.

Your fingers scrap down his back, your body arching. Your chest meets his, the sweat from both your bodies mixing. Xavier presses his lips to yours in a messy, wet, hot kiss. His hot breath fans over the side of your mouth, his teeth clashing with yours.

“Xavi, I’m close,” you moan, eyes screwing shut. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop. D-Don’t change anything. Ah, fuck.”

He keeps the exact same pressure and pace, looking down at your face. You look so beautiful when about to come. Your jaw dropped with sweat lining your neck. Your eyes are rolled back, head digging into the pillows.

“Xavier, I’m gonna, I’m gonna come! I-I’m gonna —!”

You muscles tense up and you feel the pressure lifting off of your tummy.

“Oh, fuck, Y/n,” he groans, gripping the pillow next to your head. He pulls out quickly, his whole body shaking as he comes. He manages to turn his body to the side, getting a little bit of cum on your thigh.

“S-sorry,” he stammers, quickly getting a tissue and wiping your thigh.

“No worries,” you smile. “Are you, uh, on birth control?” Xavier asks, still a little breathless.

“Yes,” you nod. “If I wasn’t, I would’ve asked for a condom.”

He smiles and nods, “right.” he puts his underwear and pants back on. He grabs your clothes, setting them on the bed next to you. “Would you like some water? Or a snack?”

“I would love some water, thank you.” you nod. You take your clothes and head to the bathroom. Xavier jogs over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you back.

“Do you feel okay?” he asks. “Yes. I feel a little sore, but I’ll be okay,” you answer.

“Okay,” he grins. He leans down and pecks your cheek and forehead. “I love you.”

You sigh happily and wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I love you.“

He kisses the side of your head before pulling away. “What if your boyfriend finds out?”

“He’ll be my ex by then,” you shrug. “And I’ll be able to make up rumors about him. Like how he’s so bad and that’s why I went to you,” you wink.

Xavier smirks, “he’ll be pissed.”

“Mm, good,” you hum. You lean up and kiss him. “He deserves it.”

————

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@murdockcastleslut @kenzi-woycehoski @mayax2o07 @1-800-mocha @wetwilliam02

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe x reader smut #xavier thorpe fluff #xavier thorpe angst #xavier thorpe x reader fluff #xavier thorpe x reader angst #wednesday #wednesday show #sara.nsfw

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justalildumpling · 2 years ago

Text

⇢ finding cinderella

synopsis: it wasn’t often jeno showed emotions of love and affection, let alone kissing a stranger at a party that he doesn’t even remember?! determined to find his nameless cinderella, he began searching the campus far and wide but as hidden secrets started surfacing, he started to wonder whether the midnight spark was meant to be pursued after all.

pairing: jeno x fem! reader genre: social media au, college au, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, crack warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, jokes about murder status: completed started: 14th February 2023 ended: 13th July 2023 update schedule: twice a week (probs mon & thurs??) taglist: closed🤍!!

note: this is the third instalment of the 'lovesick fools universe'! (tho it can be standalone) holy crap, the journey leading up to writing this fic was... chaotic💀 also imma be fr guys, this is gonna be a hell of a long rollercoaster so buckle up🥴

⎯ navi for lovesick fools universe

profiles 1/3: jay's sugar babies profiles 2/3: dream squad!! profiles 3/3: dream squad!! (pt. 2) chapter 1: the fucked up uni chapter 2: the ball and the glass slipper chapter 3: as the clock struck midnight chapter 4: after the magic wore off🍻 chapter 5: her own version of glass slippers👟 chapter 6: the prince and the stepsisters💀 chapter 7: her nike zoom pegasus chapter 8: prince jeno’s big fat L chapter 9: cinderella’s rats🤨 chapter 10: the questionable wingmen🤨 chapter 11: awkwardly dense charming chapter 12: breaking and (not) entering💀 chapter 13: bye mum im getting married💅 chapter 14: soft launch🙈 chapter 15: avengers assemble🫡 chapter 16: pussy🙄 chapter 17: nomin’s divorce era chapter 18: oh how the turn tables chapter 19: jinx😡 chapter 20: 🤡 chapter 21: loving him was red chapter 22: a twisted cinderella story chapter 23: coping mechanisms chapter 24: denial is river in egypt chapter 25: the story of us chapter 26: the untold truth chapter 27: gaslight, gatekeep, not girlbossing chapter 28: sneaky snake🐍 chapter 29: karma is her bf🤭 chapter 30: closing the cinderella story?? chapter 31: DAS MY BFF😤😤😤 chapter 32: lucifier’s new friend🫣 chapter 33: ok relationship veteran🥵 chapter 34: my soulmate frfr😔✋ chapter 35: sunwoo’s party pt.194859🫠 chapter 36: if the shoe fits chapter 37: so this is love🩵 (finale)

next lovesick fool: renjun

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cheollipop · 1 year ago

Text

soybean stew

navi | taglist

pairing: choi san x afab!reader

w.c.: 5.5k

tags: smut, fluff, so much fluff, and even more fluff, established relationship, reader is not gendered, san is so in love, he's so in love!!!! and it's so fluffy!!! and he can cook, but he's a little clumsy, did I mention the fluff?

trudging back home after your final exam, wanting nothing but to sink into bed and sleep through the next three years, san welcomed you with a warm bath and a home-cooked meal. and even as the moon fell to make way for the morning rays, he continued to shower you with his never-ending love.

warnings: beware!!! the fluff may be deadly, reader is not gendered (afab), morning sex, lovemaking, oral sex (f), fingering (f), unprotected sex (👎), multiple orgasms (m), multiple creampies, overstimulation, praise, edging, orgasm denial (only for a bit), nicknames (sannie; love, darling, sweetheart, baby), very sappy, so many kisses, like....a lot, san gets so desperate at one point...oh lord, so whiny too, and so in love :(

A/N: this has been a wip since april and I kinda abandoned it because uni was beating my ass,, buuut I figured it would be a great (belated) birthday fic for san!! (´ ε ` )♡ and happy birthday to my favourite himbo ^^ happy reading! please consider reblogging/leaving feedback if you enjoy my work~ ><

nsfw under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

Your soaked sneakers slammed over the pavement, splashing into the puddles of rainwater showering the Earth. The umbrella you held onto for dear life did nothing to protect you from the downpour, your lower half left helpless to the droplets the wind pushed at it, darkening your jeans to match the overcast sky under which you were walking. The revision notes felt heavy in the bag slung over your shoulder, and you wanted nothing but to burn them and have a barbeque over the flame to celebrate the end of your semester.

Dragging your sore body through the streets and into the shelter of your apartment building, you found yourself out of breath by the time you arrived at your front door. Your arm felt like deadweight as you raised it to unlock your door with languid movements. You lugged your body through the entrance and into the joint living area and kitchen, eyes falling on the tall figure of Choi San, all broad shoulders and glowing skin, swaying his hips to the music playing from his phone, masking the jingle of your keys. A sudden rush of energy – though miniscule – pushed you towards the man, your arms snaking around his waist, his body jolting in your hold and the ladle in his hand rising in defense with a throaty scream.

“Ah! (Y/n)- Fuck-” He slumped over the stove, the steam from the bubbling pot brushing over the smooth skin of his face. “You scared me, sweetheart,” he laughed breathlessly.

You managed a half-hearted apology and a giggle as you pressed your head to his bicep to watch as tofu and an array of vegetables danced in the brownish broth, the pleasant aroma making your stomach rumble against San’s back. He laughed to himself, dropping the ladle into the pot and twisting his body to face you, his arms encircling your shoulders and bringing you closer to his body.

“The jjigae needs a while longer to be ready,” he brushed his hand over the back of your head. “I should’ve started cooking earlier, sorry.”

You leaned in to press a kiss to his pouty lips and shook your head, an easy smile stretching your mouth. It baffled you how you were barely conscious a few minutes ago, but upon laying your eyes on San, wrapping yourself up in his arms, inhaling the uniqueness of his scent – a blend of bergamot and sage, with a hint of baby powder – you felt revived, ready to conquer the world (even though a certain man with broad shoulders and a pretty smile would fight every entity that opposed you before you had the chance to lift a finger).

“I don’t mind waiting,” you pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth before leaning away to admire the stupid smile on his face, his eyes glowing with unrivaled adoration.

“How about I run you a bath, hm? Dinner should be done by the time you finish.” His fingers rubbed small, warming circles over the damp material of the coat you didn’t bother shrug off upon entry, too engrossed in greeting your boyfriend.

You nodded, an easy smile twisting the corners of your lips as you swayed gently in San’s arms. He took you in, from the way the wind had left your locks dishevelled to the dark circles under your weary eyes. San could see your mismatched socks through the slight gap separating your bodies. They weren’t even similar colours—proof of how exhausted you actually were. He cupped your jaw, and you felt the drag of the bandages wrapped around two of his fingers across your cheek. You grabbed his hand and held it in front of you, shooting a glare at him while he sheepishly looked to the side. Injuries were inevitable when you leave a man who can’t even walk straight alone with a sharp knife. Though, scolding San for hurting himself while doing something so thoughtful was not within your capabilities. The guilt would eat at your insides for weeks until it left a hollow cavity brimming with rue and self-condemnation.

You brought the bandaged fingers to your lips, pressing tender kisses to the wounded skin. “Thank you, Sannie,” you gently spoke. For everything you do for me, you silently added. And the smile on San’s face told you he understood.

He had every little detail about you engraved into his mind, from the blemishes decorating your skin to the way your eyes spoke to him when putting your thoughts into words proved to be a task too difficult. You sometimes felt like San knew you better than you did yourself, recognizing exactly what you need before you even had the chance to think about it. And whenever you felt self-conscious about not being as perceptive, San was quick to assure you that you did more than enough for him, that your smile alone could solve all his predicaments.

San led you to the bathroom, turning away from you as you began to strip. He sat at the edge of the bathtub, switching on the water and holding his hand under the tap until he deemed it warm enough, plugging the drain and getting up. Turning back around, San’s eyes fixed on your exposed skin while he blindly reached for the cabinet, tracing the swell of your breasts and the curvature of your waist, blinking slowly as he felt saliva pooling in his mouth at the sight of you before him.

And then he met your eyes, freezing in place when you raised a questioning eyebrow at him. He cleared his throat – a little louder than he’d intended – and hoped you wouldn’t notice the bright red tinting his cheeks as he desperately scrambled to grab onto the handle, flinging the cabinet door open and effectively hiding his face behind the wood. You stifled a laugh, shoving your clothes into the laundry basket while San rummaged through the items stored underneath the sink, pulling out a rose-shaped bath bomb. He stood back up, smiling like an idiot when he turned to face you again, the previous timidity nowhere to be seen as he ogled your bare body with newfound confidence.

“You’re insufferable,” you grimaced, shying away from his gaze.

He breathed out a laugh, the fondness glimmering in his eyes sending a wave of warmth through your body and straight to your heart, sensing as it swelled with adoration. You wondered what you might have done in a previous life that deemed you deserving of Choi San—a man who never failed to make you feel loved, cherished, wanted.

“Stop it,” you whined when San’s eyes remained on you, though not moving off your face.

“It’s hard to look away from you, darling,” he swooned, putting his arms up to protect himself from the towel you threw his way, a soft chuckle echoing in the bathroom.

You waited for him to turn his back to you before allowing the smile you’d been holding back to sneak onto your face, tilting your head down to shield it from view. San didn’t bother hiding his own, dimples sinking into his cheeks as he dropped the bath bomb into the tub, watching it fizz and leak a soft shade of pink into the water.

“Let me know if the water’s too hot,” San spoke, making his way back to you.

He held your face in his hands, pressing his lips to your forehead before pulling away with an easy smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes. You hummed a ‘thank you,’ passing San to step into the water, jolting when a warm palm landed on your ass, the sound reverberating between the walls.

“Yah!” You yelled and watched as the culprit escaped, leaving behind a trail of high-pitched giggles to keep you company.

You shook your head, a smile on your lips, and continued your descent into the warm bath. You relaxed your body, sighing contently when the water brushed the tip of your nose, feeling the weariness of this past month melt away into nothing.

San placed two bowls of rice down on the dining table beside a pair of empty ones, walking back to the stove to grab the bubbling pot of stew. The distant roar of the hairdryer stopped, and the bathroom door swung open down the hall. You walked out, a trail of steam following you as you made your way to the kitchen to watch San place the pot down on the wooden table. He straightened up and an easy smile took over his lips when his eyes landed on you—dressed in one of his hoodies, your cheeks flushed from the warm bath. You found yourself rushing into his open arms, burying your face into San’s chest and making a home in his cordial embrace. He nuzzled his cheek against the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your shampoo and pressing a kiss to your hair.

San placed another peck to your temple before pulling away and leading you to a chair, pulling it out, and waiting for you to sit down before pushing it back in. You shook your head and huffed out a laugh at the simple, yet endearing gestures engraved so deeply into San’s mannerisms. You’d thought they would’ve stopped after a couple months of dating, but here you were, quite a few years in and he remained the gentleman you had fallen in love with on a windy autumn afternoon.

San walked around the table and took the seat across from you, reaching for the ladle and pouring stew into one of the empty bowls, handing it to you before filling up his own. You smiled, inhaling the steam dancing above your bowl, exhaling with a deep, happy hum. You picked up your spoon, scooping up some of the rice and dipping it into the stew before bringing it to your mouth. You blew on it, aware of San’s eyes on you, gauging your reaction as you chewed on the food.

“Be honest,” he spoke, the smile on his lips carrying a hint of tension and anxiety.

You knew he cared the most about your opinion, and wanting nothing but to see the dimples sinking into his cheeks, you fluttered your eyes shut and swayed your body from side to side while humming exaggeratedly. “Mmm! Sannie, this is the best meal I’ve ever had!”

You reached across the table to cover his hand with your palm, and he didn’t waste time flipping it over and giving yours a squeeze. The smile stretching his lips nearly split his face open, a bright red colouring his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “It’s my mum’s recipe,” he scratched at his nape with his free hand.

You felt your chest well up with infatuation, fondness, love. Choi San occupied every inch of your being, and he was wholly unaware of it all—the effect he had on you, how you melted into putty in hands whenever he smiled your way. The gentle touches, the sappy flirting. He drove you crazy at times, and you wondered when you became greedy, wanting to rob the dimpled man of every last drop of his love.

“Well, you did it justice. It’s delicious,” you mirrored the smile he was giving you.

Your fingers remained entwined throughout dinner, even when San directed his spoon towards you, shoveling half of his own portion into your mouth despite your complaints. You tried doing the same, but for every spoon you pushed past his lips, he fed you two back until you were on the verge of exploding, swearing on every living family member you had that another bite would make your heart stop. San only laughed, extending his free arm to brush away the grain of rice stuck to the corner of your mouth, leaning back and sucking the food off his thumb with a coy smile.

You cleared your throat, ignoring the flash of warmth coursing through your body at the action. You were so adorable, San thought, getting up when you did, plastering himself to your back and waddling with you to the living room. You held onto his arms where they were crossed around your chest, stopping by the couch before unwinding your limbs and twisting around to face him. With his hands on your waist, San urged you closer until your arms wrapped around his neck, leaning down to press his mouth to yours.

The kiss was soft, your lips slotting perfectly over each other while you shared your body heat, your fingers tangling in the hair at San’s nape and lightly scratching at the skin. San parted from you only to place tender pecks over your pouted lips, trailing his own over the plushness and to your cheeks, nuzzling his nose against them before pulling away. He walked you backwards until the backs of your knees met the couch, dropping you gently onto the cushion. You found yourself wrapped in your favourite blanket before you could complain about San's hands not being on you, tucked into the corner of the couch with a movie playing on the TV. With a kiss to your forehead and a whispered “I’ll be right back,” San walked back to the kitchen, giggling menacingly at your displeased grumbling.

San’s hips swayed while he loaded the dishwasher, his thoughts revolving around a certain individual impatiently waiting for him on the couch. An individual he was helplessly infatuated with, having built his future in his mind around them—around their interests, their occupation, their preferred paint colour, their desired pet, whether he’d have to build a cot at some point in his life. He rinsed down the spoons while thinking back to the first time he saw you—sat on a bench under the yellowing tree, bright red and orange colouring the dying leaves. How lucky he was, San thought, to still be looked at the same way by the person he was in love with. All starry eyes and warm smiles, as though he’d built you a kingdom with nothing but his calloused hands.

Slipping off his bright pink rubber gloves, he made his way past the dining table and into the living area, his bare feet padding across the carpeted floor and stopping right in front of your sleeping figure. He mooned over your resting face for a few moments, the TV playing idly in the background as he studied the soft furrow of your eyebrows, the gentle grip you had on the corner of the blanket in which you were wrapped up in, the thin line of drool seeping from the corner of your mouth and onto the cushion under your head. San's fist tightened in resistance, the squeal tickling the base of his throat fighting to be let out as he barely held back the aggressive stomps. Everything about you drove him insane, even when you were doing something as simple as fulfilling a basic human need. He took you in for longer than he’d wish to confess, trailing his eyes over every inch of your face before snapping out of the trance he’d found himself in, a dribble of saliva leaving his own mouth while fondness brimmed in his chest.

He scooped you up in his arms, careful not to awaken you, small, light steps carrying him to your shared bedroom. Abruptly stopping in the middle of the hallway, San bit down on his bottom lip and squeezed his eyes shut when you nuzzled your face into his chest, resisting the urge to cover your face in kisses. His grip on you tightened and he willed his legs to move, taking a few – slightly hurried – strides through the hallway and into your room.

Delicately placing you under the covers, San untangled you from the fluffy blanket and threw it over the duvet—the night grew cold now that winter was inching closer. He made a quick work of his clothes, throwing on a hoodie not strained with splotches of soybean paste before slipping into bed. His arm naturally slid under your head, his other arm snaking around your waist and tucking you into his chest, a satisfied exhale blowing out of your nose. Sleep found him fleetly, hints of rose mixing with your natural scent to surround him with familiar amenity, your body soft and pliant against his. Pressing his lips to your forehead, San wrapped himself around you and allowed the gentle tugs of slumber to shut his eyes, his last thoughts circling around the person in his arms, hoping the next day would come quickly, wanting nothing more but to drown them in his affection.

Streaks of gold filtered through the chiffon curtains, the sheer material futile against the aurous beams of light revering the start of the new day. Peeking your eyes open, you blinked away the contrasting brightness of your room, shadows splayed over the disordered sheets and a warm body plastered to your side. San’s head lay lower on the pillow, his exhales blowing over your neck, features softened in tranquility while his chest rose and fell with each breath. You wondered if he was dreaming of you.

Your shoulders felt light, your breathing easy, and the stress of assignments and exams gone with the moonless night, the new sun casting shadows over the face tucked into your neck. San had been so patient with you, planning dates around your busy schedule and racking up the phone bill as he pulled recipe after recipe from his mother every evening. While you were too immersed in reading articles, San made sure you didn’t skip meals, that your water bottle was always full and sitting on the right side of your desk, that your shared home remained clean, that the knots in your shoulders never wound too tight, his delicate fingers working over your muscles as you clung to his torso at night. And though he never deprived you of his affection, you felt an untamable need for him, a wildfire burning in your gut as you took in his resting features.

You started off gentle, your lips feathering over San’s temple and down to his cheekbone, quickly growing frustrated at the continued evenness of his breath. So the needy, openmouthed kisses began, leaving a thin sheen of saliva in the shape of your lips reflecting the morning rays, your fingers brushing dark strands off his forehead to plant kisses there as well. You felt his nose twitch as you pecked down the bridge, the subtle pouting of his lips curling the corners of yours.

Your hands made their way under San’s sleep shirt, your nails dragging over his spine before splaying your palms out to feel the warmth of his skin. You threw your leg over his hip, shuffling closer to his body and trailing your lips down to his cupid’s bow. “Sannie,” kiss, “wake up,” kiss.

He peeked an eye open to look at you, quickly shutting it as he stretched out his limbs, a deep groan echoing in his chest. He relaxed back in your arms, blinking his eyes in quick succession to peer at you with hints of his dream still playing in his head.

“’Morning,” he mumbled, the rasp in his voice only adding to your need for him, his knuckles running over the slope of your jawline.

You leaned down to kiss him again, a slow dancing of lips while the thrushes and blackbirds sang a melody on your windowsill. San was still waking up, you knew that, yet you couldn’t help but nestle closer, holding his face and nuzzling your nose into the side of his as you deepened the kiss. It took him a few seconds to notice your restlessness, your hand slipping off his jaw to run over his sides, sliding under the hem of his shirt and squeezing at the flesh of his waist.

Shaking the last of his drowsiness away, he rolled your bodies sideways until he had you on your back, looking up at him with a mix of confusion and lust. San knew you better than you knew yourself, you remembered as he leaned over you to press a firm, closemouthed kiss to your lips, followed by a trail of tender pecks down your neck. “What’s got you so needy this early in the morning?”

You could feel his smile on your skin as he peppered your neck with kisses, dragging his teeth over your pulse point. “Missed you,” you breathed out, fingers curling around the material hugging his broad shoulders. “Want you.”

San hummed, low in his throat, “I’m here, I’m all yours.” His hands coasted over your sides and down to your hips to hook his fingers into your waistband, slowly sliding off your bottoms and panties in one go, his lips pressing over every inch of newly exposed skin.

Your pants and his haphazardly thrown behind him, San ran both hands down your inner thighs to spread you open, slotting himself between your legs and leaning over you to dot kisses over your jawline and cheeks. “Can I taste you, my darling?”

The rough material of his boxers pressed against your mound, your vision blurring at the friction. “But I want you,” you whined, sliding a hand down his back and resting it over his firm ass to pull him closer.

“Just for a little bit,” he kissed at your pouty lips, grinding his hips into you, the hard outline of his cock straining against the thin fabric. “Please? ‘Wanna feel you on my tongue.”

A shiver ran through you, and you nodded hesitantly, watching as San descended your body with a muttered ‘thank you.’

‘Just for a little bit’ faded into the illuminated dust swimming in the air around you, your mind disconnecting from reality the moment San’s lips found your pussy. It felt like hours in a realm of ecstasy, hot arousal gushing out of you with every suck to your clit, your vision blurring when thick fingers breached your entrance. San lapped at your cunt like a starved man, his tongue flattening over your swollen nub while you desperately rolled your hips over his face, exhaling breathy moans as you neared your high for the nth time, only for him to anchor you down on the mattress with an arm over your lower belly, retracting his tongue to press tender kisses over and around your slit.

“No, no,” you whined as your orgasm dwindled, tears pooling in your eyes and your hands tugging at his dark strands, attempting to push his face back onto you. His fingers curled inside you, pushing up into your g-spot to remind you of their presence, hips slowly rutting into the sheets under him. “Sannie, please.”

He slipped out of you to trail soft kisses along the heated skin as he journeyed up your body, pressing his lips to the pout on yours before pulling away to take you in—all teary eyes and slick skin, gilded under the early rays. Strong arms enclosed around you, soft tufts of dark hair tickling the side of your neck as San dipped his head onto your shoulder. Inhaling deeply, he breathed in the familiar scent of your bodywash, a hint of your shampoo tickling his senses as he basked in your warmth. A muttered echo of his name broke him away from you, his lips parting off your skin to allow a string of curses exit, his leaking cock now burrowed between your folds, cockhead teasing over your clit. “Are you ready for me, love?”

Your frantic nodding and pleas brought a smile to his face, lowering himself over you again to gather you into his arms, his hand sliding between your bodies to align himself with your waiting cunt. Your hips jumped when his thick girth breached your entrance, your nails dragging down San’s spine at the gradual stretch. Feathery pecks turned into open-mouthed kisses over your face, San’s heavy breaths interrupted by the comforting gesture. He trailed his lips down your jaw to nuzzle his nose into the skin below your ear, his pants growing into shaky moans when his cock fully sheathed within you, the gentle squeeze of your walls around him shaking his body with violent shivers.

“Please move,” you tried, rolling your hips in protest, and San’s hands scrambled to stop you.

“W-wait, fuck-”

His body convulsed atop yours, a gravelly grunt ripping through his chest as a familiar warmth spread through your lower belly. His cock twitched inside you, spurting pathetic ropes of cum while he curled in on himself, shuddering as his orgasm washed over him unexpectedly with repeated apologies on his tongue. Your hand smoothed over his back, rubbing soothing circled into his skin while he recovered, imagining the bright red coating the cheeks he was hiding from you.

“San?”

He hummed, his voice small.

“Can you look at me?”

He shook his head, soft strands grazing over your skin at the motion.

“Why not?”

He paused, and you could feel the warmth of his face on your shoulder, “’m embarrassed,” he mumbled.

Your palms cupped his heated cheeks, prying him off your skin and holding his head above you to look at him properly. Teary, half-lidded eyes stared back at you, flushed cheeks squished inwards and his lips pouted in chagrin. You guided his face down to yours, pressing comforting kisses over his eyebrow and temple, “no need to be embarrassed, love.”

He huffed out a breath, tilting his head to slot his lips over yours, leaving a chaste kiss on your mouth before wrapping his arms around you to bring you into his chest. His hips began rolling into yours before you could question it, a breathy moan blowing over San’s collarbone as his cock glided over your walls.

“Missed you so much,” he planted a kiss on the side of your neck, “couldn’t help it, ‘felt so good,” he rambled into your skin.

You could feel his cock chubbing up inside you again, San’s soft grunts echoing in your ear as he pushed through the overstimulation. Languid grinding turned into pointed thrusts, rough palms running over the outside of your thighs and guiding them around his waist, waiting until your feet locked at the small of his back before readjusting his angle. With San’s body covering yours and his mouth on your neck, he aimed his cockhead at your g-spot with shallow drives into your sopping heat. He grazed his teeth over your pulse point, a shiver running through you as he littered an array of faint bruises over the column of your throat. In a couple hours, your skin would become a palette of blues and purples, and San would sheepishly scratch at his neck while you reprimanded him for his messy colouring.

San’s cock stilled inside you, moving only to glide the remainder of his length between your fluttering walls. “Where did you go?” Of course he’d caught you zoning out. “I thought I'd get you all to myself now that you were done with exams,” the pout on his lips pulled at your heart strings.

Your fingers ran through his hair, and you leaned upward to peck at his lips, “you have me, Sannie, I’m all yours.”

San smiled, sliding a hand under you to cup the back of your head, catching your lips in a kiss laced with the thick essence of yearning and lust—as though he couldn’t bare part with you ever again, not even to grab a glass of water. “Mine, mine, mine,” he recited against your lips, moving down to pepper kisses over the bruises painting your skin. “Gonna fuck you so full, sweetheart, ‘make sure everyone knows you’re my sweet baby.”

Your hand reached down to his thigh, grazing the soft skin and trailing upward until your palm cupped his plump ass, urging his hips forward and into your cunt. “Want it, please, want you so bad.”

His lips found yours, parting to run his tongue over your cupid’s bow before planting soft, delicate kisses over the corners of your mouth. Your nails dug into the flesh of his ass, eyes rolling back as he pounded into you with boiling desperation. Utterances of ‘missed you’ vibrated over your skin, your chests flush and nipple grazing over each other every time San bucked into you, his words broken-up by airy moans. Through the thick haze coating your brain, you recognized the tingle in your stomach warning you of your impending orgasm, San’s frantic hands touching every patch of skin available to him, his teeth nibbling on the skin of your collarbones while he fucked into you uncontrollably.

“Gonna cum,” he breathed out, lifting his head to take you in with glassy eyes. “Hngh! ‘Missed you so fucking much,” he pulled you into his chest, only to lean back two second later to admire your fucked-out expression—staring back at him with hooded eyes, pleasure soaring through your body and disrupting every thought, San’s relentless pace as he hammered his cock into your pulsating cunt barreling you closer to the edge. “So perfect,” he pushed the damp hair off your forehead. “Gonna fuck you full, darling, can I? ‘Wanna give you all I have,” he babbled, slurring his words as tears welled up in his eyes, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

“Nghh! G-give it to me, Sannie,” you tightened your legs around him, pushing him further into you and clenched around him.

San’s hips stuttered, his steady rhythm replaced with erratic pounding, his cock filling you up before slipping out, only to thrust back into you without relent. The edging, San’s mouth on your clit, his fingers stuffed inside you, only to pull away every time you came close to an orgasm, and now, his cock pressing into you g-spot while his pelvis grinded over your sensitive nub—you weren’t sure which factor pushed you over the edge, except you found yourself tumbling down a verdant, sunlit hill, wildflowers and dandelions sweeping over your skin in your descent. Your vision blurred, the silhouette of a man brimming with adoration going in and out of focus, the soft melody of moans and echoes of your name reverberating in the back of your mind as your orgasm finally rushed through you, your nerves aflame and body jolting over the soiled sheets.

For what felt like hours, he guided you through your high. Leisurely grinds of his hips, rocking back and forth with his cock sheathed deep within you, even after ropes of white joined the previous load he’d fucked into you, your bodies spasming together as tinges of overstimulation mingled with pleasure. His eyes scanned your face, studying the subtle shifts in your features while his hands roamed your body—from the twitch of your eyebrow to the upward curl of your mouth; palms dipping into the contour of your waist, and curving over the slope of your hips, holding you delicately while you trembled in his arms. He slipped out of you at the first whimper leaving your lips, his muscles slackening as the shots of pleasurable pain subsided.

The mattress jumped, San’s body falling sideways into the space beside you, his arms instantly working on tugging you closer to him, inhaling the flowery scent of your shampoo while digging his fingers into the knots in your back.

San’s soft humming carried on until the sun found its locus in the cloudless sky, the rays sharp where they snuck through the gap in your curtains. You slipped in and out of consciousness, the warm body cradling you and the patterned rise and fall of its chest spreading a veil of tranquility over the quiet room. The peacefulness resided even as San pulled you out of bed and into the shower, washing off the sweat and grime with wandering hands and impish touches, high-pitched giggles and squeals echoing between the tiled walls.

It felt like deja’vu, finding yourself curled up in a fluffy blanket on the couch, except this time, San’s firm body enveloped yours while you sipped on your coffee, feline eyes moving off the TV every time you brought the mug to your lips, watching their subtle pout as you swallowed down the steaming liquid. His gaze flitted lower, examining the splashes of purple and blue decorating your neck with a fond—and slightly cocky—smile stretching his lips.

You remained entrapped within each other’s warmth, the sunlight shifting hues every other hour, from a burning yellow to a warm orange, mixing with magenta and rose when the orb of light neared the horizon. Characters moved around on the large screen: Mulan, then Rapunzel, and now Ariel, the baritone of San’s voice harmonizing with the various ballads blasting through the speakers, your hearty giggles filling up the room when he slipped away from you to dance along with Sebastian to ‘Under the Sea.’

Securing him back in your arms, you watched the rest of the movie in peace, humming the remaining songs and arguing who would get to be the purple mermaid next time you went swimming, the empty bowls of leftover jjigae resting idly on the coffee table, their ceramic reflecting the changing hues of the dying sun.

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#choi san x reader #choi san smut #choi san fluff #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fluff #choi san x y/n #choi san x you #choi san oneshot #choi san scenarios #choi san fanfiction #ateez headcanons #ateez scenarios #ateez san #san smut #san x reader #san fluff

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from-izzy · 4 months ago

Text

dance routine | riize jung sungchan

“This isn’t part of the dance routine, bubs,” he managed to comment when you pulled away slightly.

pairing » riize jung sungchan x fem!reader

trope/au » non-idol au!, university au!, established relationship

genre » just fluffy vibes here!!, you're both very in love with each other (and it's cute), dance team leader sungchan who teaches you his choreography that he made with shotaro hehe, flirty sungchan who loves to kiss you, also shy sungchan

word count; estimated reading time » 1271; ~5 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » from my understanding, other than not being proofread, none!!

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

i was studying and i couldn't get this scenario (nor sungchan) out of my head and so here we are!! i think this fits sungchan so cutely and nicely 🥺 (and again, i just needed to write for him 🥹)

how is it literally only the start of uni and i'm already stressed-

Personally, you wouldn’t call yourself clumsy.

You would like to believe that you trip over the stairs, rock, or the air a normal amount of times, just like everyone else. You would like to believe that the number of times you had a pout on your face and the automatic jut of your lower lip as you spin back around to tell off whatever it could’ve made you faceplant is a normal amount just like everyone else.

That is not what your boyfriend thinks though. In fact, seeing him, you’re slowly believing his words that you are clumsier than most people, but you would never tell him that. Jung Sungchan is friends with everyone and everything around him. The ground seemingly smoothens itself out whenever he walks by and suddenly creates lumps and bumps whenever you walk the same path; not that you would like to admit.

He probably just has superior balancing skills because what do you mean he still managed to save himself on that one rare occasion when he did trip over a little ledge when carrying a bunch of books in his arms? You remember the shocked look on his face a few metres away when you saw him walking towards you. It turned out that you were more worried than he was because, in the next second, he crouched down to stack the book on the ground, hushing your worries with a kiss.

Sungchan tilts your head to meet his lips comfortably and you can feel the wide stretch of his lips by the first second of his touch. “I’m okay,” he reassured you as his thumbs provided soothing glides across your cheeks. “How’s my girl today?” And he’s extremely good at changing the subject.

Later on, he admitted that he was close to facing the surface of the Earth because he saw you way from the distance, increasing his pace and steps to the point that he didn’t pay close attention to his surroundings. You remember reprimanding him by text for that as well as kissing you in the middle of nowhere as you couldn’t reprimand the object that almost hurt your boyfriend.

Today, you managed to convince your boyfriend to teach you one of the dance routines that he choreographed for his university’s dance club. As the leader of the club, he earned a lot of trust from the rest of the team, including making the new routine for the upcoming competitions. Sungchan is good at what he does though and so is his best friend, Shotaro, together making a substantial amount only a few days after the first meeting of the team.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he sighed as soon as he keys in and enters the dance room with your hand in his. “Remember how you got hurt after you tried to learn my other dance from your recording?”

“I won’t!” Yet the way Sungchan raised his eyebrows shows that he didn’t trust your words, “I’ll be okay,” you pulled your boyfriend closer by your intertwined hands. Your hand leaves his and Sungchan tries to chase your warmth back to his. He couldn’t catch you though because your hands chose to ease into his warmth by his jawline, pulling his slowly blushing face closer to yours. Fluttering your eyes close, you take his lips between yours momentarily, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

“This isn’t part of the dance routine, bubs,” he managed to comment when you pulled away slightly. His comment didn’t mean that he wanted to let you go but rather an invitation to keep you close to his. A palm lands on his waist, carefully stroking the side of your body as Sungchan makes you shudder in his hold. He feels the way he affected you from your stuttering breath, “How about we ditch the dance routine and you let me kiss you all day instead?”

Your neck started to warm up from his comment and it wasn’t long until it reached your face. A soft thud lands on his chest along that time and he could only let out a mischievous chuckle at your flustered state.

“Stop flirting with me!”

“Stop being such a good kisser then!”

You two couldn’t help but bicker for a while more before you finally set your belongings down in the corner of the room. Sungchan finally gave up on convincing you to do anything else other than him being your dance teacher for a while and he finally connected his device to the speaker, setting the volume appropriately so that you could still hear his voice over the blasting music. Warming up first to the music, you relax the tension around your body, heart beating according to the rhythm, even though you missed some as it jumps a few due to Sungchan’s fond expression on you. There was no way to avoid that gaze, nor do you ever want it to. So, you mirrored his expression to him, and your heart skipped a few more beats at how he didn’t look away.

During the lesson, saying that Sungchan is a good teacher is an understatement. You can see why the team didn’t limit him to just the leader position. He’s also very patient and pays great attention to detail. Perhaps it’s his experience and his knowledge of the well made routine, either way, you enjoy the fact that he’s teaching you the steps according to your pace.

“Got it?” He asked as he rewinds the music to the start. “I’ll play it at normal speed now?”

Up for the challenge, you nod determinedly to the mirror. “I can do this,” shaking your limbs to rid of your nervousness.

And did it, you did. Since the routine was second nature to him, it allowed your boyfriend to focus on your moves from the mirror. Every movement you make is filled with confidence, smoothly stepping away from the centre tape on the wood and back when you need to. You made it from the start of his lesson to the final step in synchronisation with Sungchan next to you. What’s most important to him is the fact that you didn’t get injured. Not a single scratch, accidental wrong landing, or dizziness that could have potentially led to a physical injury. The proud claps he serenades you shortly earn him a side bear hug from you.

“You did amazing,” he takes out his handkerchief to wipe the sweat off your forehead. You let him do so, giggling with how he goes back a few times to the same places despite knowing it’s all clear.

“See? Didn’t get hurt at all.” You press the tip of your nose to his, landing back on your feet before leaning in once again to press a proper kiss. “Thank you for teaching me.”

His eyes grow wide at the playful gesture, his eyes trained on your radiant smile with your achievement. A hand rises to cover his growing blush, covering up his shyness with a couple of coughs to clear his throat.

“Y-You owe me now…” Sungchan murmurs under his breath, tips playing with the damp parts of his front bangs.

“Ok!” Shrugging your shoulders as additional information that you don’t mind, “What is it?”

Suddenly, Sungchan’s shy demeanour fades and despite your body still not fully dry from your hard work, he didn’t mind snaking an arm around your waist, his palm resting on your lower back. Confidently, he rested his forehead on yours and replicated the touch of your noses together.

“What I suggested before you danced perfectly with me.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

tags: @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿 @starlit-network 🌌⭐

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landinrris · 17 days ago

Note

Since you’ve been re-blogging all these great gifs of young Lando, what did he and Carlos find most intriguing about the other the night they first met at that party in your football au? I imagine there must’ve been such a lovely spark. Don’t know if you’re going by canon, but it reminds of how Carlos said Lando was quite shy during their first meeting at the MTC, which is very sweet.

The young Lando gifs are destroying me tbh. The short answer is that Carlos is immediately drawn to Lando because of circumstance (both hiding out from a party). And then he stays because Lando is just real with him- he doesn't pay attention to football, even to the club that plays down the street, so he has no idea who Carlos is. He sticks around and wants to get to know Carlos for him rather than because Carlos might be able to get him match tickets or a tour of the club. Lando definitely gets more confident over time, but Carlos makes him a little wild from the start.

The long answer is that I have written this part, so why not a little prequel action! Takes place while Carlos and Brentford are still in the Championship League rather than the Premier League.

-----

If Carlos had a choice, he would not be at a house party right now. A house party after playing an away match three hours away that was grueling and maybe the longest ninety minutes of Carlos’ life to date. They’d barely come out on top, a fact about half the guys wanted to celebrate after a rocky start to the season.

Pierre had somehow managed to convince him to come out. Carlos was the captain after all, and his tagging along would be that much more of a morale boost. Plus, it’s not like the party was a total stranger’s. The house belonged to some kid Marcus knew who was busy being productive in uni.

So, Carlos swallowed his pride, resolved to stand in the corner with a beer or two, and provide moral support to whoever needed it.

The house itself is modest. It’s close by the university— small and shared by three guys whose parents names are probably on the deed. The party already looks like it’s in full swing, and Carlos wonders how long it’ll be until the police are called.

A few people recognize and cheer when they see them, but for the most part, the party goes on as it had. Pros and cons about not being in the Premier League, Carlos supposes.

Carlos loses Daniel and Pierre pretty quickly and is sure he lost track of Liam and Marcus before they ever got into the Ubers to come over.

He sighs as he takes in everyone around him. He’s probably not much older than half the people here— certainly closer in age than Daniel is to everyone, but that doesn’t mean Carlos feels connected. He knows he looks older than he is, not helped by his clothing choices— jeans and a navy henley. Not that he has much better “going out” options, but still.

The lights are half out in the living room, spilling out into the back garden where he sees plenty of people chatting and playing some kind of yard game.

In the distance, he sees the glow of what must be the kitchen and heads in that direction. The sacred place. The holy land. As much as he’ll hate it, maybe he can linger in there and someone will make small talk with him. He’s not always overly thrilled to talk about football when he’s not required to, but maybe that would help pass the time now.

The kitchen is small— proportionate to match what Carlos judges to the rest of the house. It’s plain to see boys live here, though they’ve tried to clean up as best as they can. The appliances are begging to be replaced, the coils on the stove rust colored with age and definitely not level. The cabinets are white clapboard as well with dull brass knobs. Carlos didn’t go to uni, but he’s no stranger to the cheapness of a setup.

On the far counter sits a few bottles of liquor and juice. If one was more lazy, a sports drink cooler sits next to that, undoubtedly containing a concoction Carlos could only dream of. He’s not looking to fall victim to alcohol poisoning though.

As if someone in the room could read his mind, a voice speaks up from behind him. “There’s some beer in the fridge if you want something less caustic.”

He turns around to see who’s just spoken to him and finds a boy sitting up on the countertop next to the stove, a plastic cup in his hand and the heels of his feet resting against the bottom cabinet door.

Carlos spends more than a few seconds staring, but he can’t help it.

The kid— because he looks like a kid— has frizzy brown hair that looks like it’s trying its hardest to do something against the laws of nature. Even in the yellowish light of the kitchen, Carlos can tell his eyes are mesmerizing and hard to explain. His face is dotted with what looks like a combination of freckles and acne.

Carlos wordlessly turns to the fridge, pulls out the first beer he finds, and floats over to the other side of the kitchen helplessly.

“Thanks,” he tilts the bottle in the guy’s direction and looks around for a bottle opener.

“Behind the liquor bottles.”

Carlos needs to get his head out of his ass because the bottle opener isn’t even hiding. He does spare a glance at what he’s about to put in his mouth and figures he’s had worse.

“Did you know those beers were there because they are supposed to be drunken or because you are one of the people throwing this party?”

“Probably no to both. My roommate dragged me here because he’s friends with the guys throwing it. I just snooped in retaliation. Don’t know why they’re there.”

Carlos can’t help but laugh disbelievingly. He props his hip against the stove a few feet to the guy’s right like he’s posting up residence. “Well then, I thank you…”

“Lando, not much of a party guy.” He sticks his hand out in introduction, and Carlos can’t help but take it. He repeats Lando’s name to himself in his head a few times, mind rolling over the n and d like it's some foreign word he's learning for the first time.

“Nice to meet you, Lando. I’m Carlos, also not much of a party guy.”

“Did you also get dragged here or are you just a masochist?”

“No, I am also here with friends, but they disappeared almost as soon as we walked through the door. One of them knows one of the people who lives here. I guess. My plan was to just hide in a corner with a beer for an hour and then make a quiet getaway.”

“Well, it’s not much of a corner, but it is relatively quiet in here.”

“I am touched you would share your space. So you are in uni then?”

Carlos tells himself it’s not a crime to make small talk despite feeling like a dinosaur around people a few years younger than himself. There’s just something in this Lando guy’s eyes that has Carlos leaning in closer and wanting to know more. It doesn’t hurt that he’s cute on top of the strange pull.

“Yeah, it’s my first year. I live down on campus with a few people. It’s been decent so far. Mostly spent this term trying to get my bearings and figure out what’s going on.” He glances down into his cup, and Carlos suddenly wonders if he’s even old enough to drink. Carlos should probably leave him alone.

“And what are you wanting to do?” he asks instead.

“Art— sculpture and pottery more specifically. I like making things and getting my hands dirty, you know? Something tells me you are not in uni though.” Lando purses his lips like he’s only now coming to the realization and is somewhat dismayed by it.

Maybe Carlos’ face revealed too much.

He bends his head down and smiles ruefully. “Ah, no, I am not. I just turned twenty-two. I suppose this makes me a bit of a loser being at this kind of party.”

Lando shrugs. “Maybe. I doubt hiding in the kitchen helps that.”

Carlos laughs. “Fair. Does this also make you a loser?”

Lando scoffs in what looks like mock offense. “I’ll have you know I have plenty of friends. They’re all just…” he gestures elsewhere, “Making out with girls somewhere else. Also not really my thing.”

“Randomly making out or the girls? Because if it’s just the making out, I’m sure there are plenty out there who would get to know you first,” Carlos asks before he can stop himself. He’s not even drunk and here he is asking about Lando’s sexuality.

Lando’s eyes go wide. “Uh… no, it’s the girls. Not really my scene, and I’d rather not find out which of the guys’ it is either. Not a few weeks into my first year.”

Carlos hates the way his heart skips a beat. “I know what you mean. Sometimes it feels like it is better to stay quiet than open yourself up to people who can judge and hurt you.” He doesn’t know why he admits as such to a complete stranger. He’s not out publicly, and just because Lando didn’t say I know when Carlos introduced himself doesn’t mean he doesn’t know who Carlos is. For all he knows, Lando could go online later and tell everyone that Brentford’s captain is gay.

Lando doesn’t look surprised though. He doesn’t reach for his phone to tell the world. If anything, his eyes are understanding in a way that strips Carlos bare.

“Have you found someone? Who doesn’t do that to you?” Lando asks.

He sounds like he’s asking partly out of his own curiosity and partly for Carlos’ well-being.

“My family and some close friends know. But if you are asking if I have a boyfriend, no I do not.” Carlos will not admit to reveling in the way Lando’s cheeks redden. It’s like he didn’t expect for Carlos to figure him out quite so easily.

Lando nods and takes a gulp of his drink. Carlos can’t help but look on amused and sip at his own.

“I didn’t mean to pry, I’m sorry.”

For an unbearable second, Lando looks like he’s about to hop down from the counter and flee, which is the opposite of what Carlos wants.

“You didn’t pry, it’s fine.” When Lando looks unconvinced, Carlos repeats himself. “Lando, it’s fine. You don’t have to be sorry.” He wonders if Lando expects him to ask the question in return even if he admitted he was essentially single a few minutes prior. But Carlos won’t let himself open up any kind of possibility with Lando right now. Not before—

“How old are you, anyway?”

Carlos is about to wonder why Lando looks suddenly morose at Carlos’ question before he answers. “I’ll be eighteen in a few weeks.”

Carlos almost chokes on his drink. “I thought you said you were in uni.”

“I skipped a year and I have a late birthday.” Lando sighs and leans his head back on the cabinet behind him. “It always freaks people out.”

It’s understandable, especially while Lando’s still young. “I can imagine. I didn’t mean to be like other people. It just surprised me. How was that for you?”

Because Carlos finds that he wants to hear and wants to still learn everything about Lando even if it’s only for friendship right now. Lando may be mesmerizing, but Carlos can and will control himself.

Lando doesn’t look nearly as downtrodden when Carlos doesn’t run away. Instead, he launches into stories about school that gradually meander into conversation from other areas of life. Carlos steers them clear of anything related to football, utterly uninterested in learning whether it changes Lando’s opinion of him.

Sure, Carlos isn’t a Premier League player, but Brentford is sitting fourth in the Championship, and Carlos knows there’s no limit to what people will do for a leg up.

The topic doesn’t even come up in general, making Carlos think that Lando doesn’t even watch it— and wouldn’t that be something. Of course, it’s not outside of the realm of possibility, but to seemingly click so well with someone in a genuine sense and not because the other person is trying to make themselves appealing because of what Carlos does for a living? It’s refreshing.

He loses track of time huddled in the kitchen talking to Lando. He learns that Lando sells some of his pottery online already and that he wants to grow his business throughout school and beyond it. He shows Carlos some of his work— beautiful and flowing vases and pots with artful designs that remind Carlos of pieces locked away in his mother’s china cabinet. He’s been involved with pottery since primary school when clay pots consisted of connecting coils and pinching a ball out into something usable.

They talk about their families— the woes of growing up the middle child with multiple sisters. Lando makes Carlos laugh harder than he thought possible, the two of them seemingly syncing their laughs in a way he’s ever only done with a few close friends. It makes warmth bloom in his chest.

Only once Daniel wraps his knuckles on the door frame of the kitchen does Carlos realize it sounds quieter beyond the kitchen than it used to. Carlos tries not to react as if he’s been caught out doing something secretive.

Daniel hesitates as he seemingly takes the scene in. “We’re getting ready to go, you coming? Most everyone is starting to clear out.”

Carlos looks down at his watch and balks at the time. So much for only staying for an hour when it’s been about three. “Uh, yes I will meet you outside?”

Daniel nods and turns back into the living room.

Carlos turns back to Lando and takes a leap. “Give me your phone number? We can keep talking and maybe hang out properly?”

Lando’s eyes widen. “Yeah? Yeah, okay. I can send myself a message from your phone if you want.”

“Okay, perfect.” Carlos fishes his phone from his back pocket, navigates to a new message, and hands his phone over. He saves Lando’s contact after Lando hands his phone back, going so far as to tell Lando to pose for a picture for his contact photo. Lando puts his hands under his chin and squints his eyes into an exaggerated close-mouthed smile. It’s hopelessly endearing. “I will see you around?”

“For sure. Thanks for keeping me company.”

“Anytime.”

Carlos is somewhat morose to leave the little room that had become his haven over the last few hours. Lando’s face might as well be burned into his retinas for as long as he’s been looking at him, and yet it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. The living room and front walkway are too dark, the people not as endearing.

Somehow Carlos is going home with the same people he came with, though they’re definitely on the tipsy side compared to Carlos who had only had an additional beer.

“Everything good?” Daniel asks, lingering as Pierre and Alex climb into the waiting Uber.

Carlos startles out of his own head and looks to see Daniel watching him. “Me? Yes, everything is good.”

“Carlos, mate,” Pierre exclaims when they’re seated. “I thought for sure you would have left like an hour and a half ago.”

“Nah, Sainz looked like he was having a good time, didn’t you?” Daniel protests.

Carlos thinks of Lando sitting on top of the counter with his blinding heart-like smile. He doesn’t have any qualms about agreeing and letting them gloat. “Yeah, I did actually.” Carlos doesn’t pay attention to whatever Pierre says after, choosing instead to look out the window instead and watch the trees and houses roll by.

#football au #surprise blurb!#a not small part of me really wants to explore the early years of their relationship so I've got a couple small things written/thought out #carlando #husbands™#writing tag

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aziraphales-library · 4 months ago

Note

Hello amazing people! I wonder if you have any recs for human aus where the boys are like teen or uni aged? Like cute young love story. Maybe spicy. Thank you! <3

Hi! Tags you'll want to take a look at are: #childhood friends, #high school au, #college au, and #university au. Here are some more to add...

Vignettes of a Life Together by Busy24_7 (E)

Crowley, botany student and professional worrier, is harboring a massive, secret crush on his new roommate. Aziraphale, on the other hand, is more clueless than he is given credit for. Will these two ever figure it out, or is Crowley doomed to a life of pining? A 5+1-style fic with a whole lot of fluff and intentionally minimal angst. Rated M for the first few chapters, but will be upgraded to E if Crowley ever gets his way…

The End is Where We Start From by Optimistic Starlight (E)

“Aziraphale, hello. It’s er, been a long time.” “Yes, dreadfully long. You look different.” He immediately coloured in evident embarrassment. “I mean, of course you look different, as do I of course, I didn’t mean bad different, that is to say…” Something inside of Crowley, something that had been in a deep freeze for several eons, was starting to thaw. It was letting little bits and pieces of familiarity break loose to float back into their rightful places in his soul. One of those pieces, those round, blue eyes, suddenly snapped into place, and he felt a corresponding wave of long-forgotten feeling wash through him. Aziraphale is anxious. Make Aziraphale happy. “Yeah,” he interrupted. “D’you wanna… get a coffee or something?” *** Crowley and Aziraphale meet by chance on the street. They've met before, in their youth, in a different life. Some difficult things have happened since then. Will they be able to find their way back to each other and to themselves?

Down to the River by CemeteryAngel725 (E)

Twenty-five years ago, Tony Crowley walked out of Azi’s life and broke both of their hearts. Since then, Azi has been living in suspended animation, working in the army/navy surplus booth he inherited from his dad and writing horror novels. Now Tony is back from the city, flush with success and wanting to catch up with Azi. Should Azi risk his heart and try to reclaim what they’ve lost? Or is it too late to start over? A Good Omens human AU inspired by Bruce Springsteen.

Against All Odds by GroovyNightStrawberry (E)

How can you just walk away from me? When all I can do is watch you leave 'Cos we've shared the laughter and the pain and even shared the tears You're the only one who really knew me at all Az is eleven, and his world is falling apart. His best friend is walking away from him, and Az can't find a way to make him stay. Thirty-five years later, there's a familiar face at Aziraphale's new job, and it threatens to break his heart all over again. Can they do it better this time?

Opposites Attract by Pal456 (M)

The Eastgate family hated the Crowley family. Hated them so much, that their children were not to spend any time together. That never stopped Aziraphale and Crowley being drawn to one another time and time again even though their families would pull them apart. As years go by, Aziraphale tries to do right by his parents in order to take over the family business one day, but it seems like the Almighty might have a different, ineffable, plan that brings the two together every chance they get.

One and the Same Fall by ElliottRook (E)

Aziraphale Fell is a UK student attending an American Catholic school on exchange, an escape from a strict, conservative family. Anthony Crowley is a juvenile delinquent on his last chance, sent to live with his uncle and attend a school that promises to shape him up. When they cross paths at St. Bernadette's, they nearly instantly become friends, and nobody likes it--not the teachers, not the old-money students, not Aziraphale's family--but it's the best thing that's ever happened to either of them. Hanging over their heads, though, is Crowley's plan to flee the moment he comes of age, and what will happen after they're no longer trapped in the same gilded cage.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #human au #adult omens #childhood friends #flashbacks #high school au #college au #university au #mod d

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starkraivennemad · 6 months ago

Text

How Does That Feel?

Mycroft Holmes stood with his little brother as they got dressed together. They were very grown men now and it dawned to him they had not done such since...

"The day before you left for uni. Black trousers, a white button with slate pullover, a navy-blue tie, black socks, and lace-up brogues for you. Black short pants with braces, a tee with charcoal stripes, white knee socks and black penny loafers for me." Sherlock chuckled, speaking aloud the thought in Mycroft’s head, his usually mellifluous voice soft with bittersweet reminiscence.

For all their differences as they became men of the world, when the Holmes brothers were in sync, it was uncanny. This was one of those times.

How does that feel? he asks himself. It something Mycroft does on emotionally laden days to acknowledge the feeling, name it and move on so that he’s not overwhelmed.

“Funny how that feels.” He mused aloud.

“I know.” Sherlock nodded in understanding.

“You loved those braces. They had little yellow and black bee buttons sewn into the front of them."

"Little bee buttons that YOU had sewn into the braces." Sherlock emphasized.

"I did not know you knew." Mycroft smiled surprised, but pleased.

"Mummy refused to buy me the short pants I had seen in a store window and wanted them." Sherlock chuckled in memory. "Yes, they were shorts for little girls, but I did not care. I wanted the bees."

"Yes. And you had caused quite the scene on the asphalt I was told. You were five and already so head strong. Mummy really should have known better." Mycroft chuckled. "You were so chuffed when I presented the black braces, with the bees sewn on, to you a few days later."

"Oh, my behavior then was a pittance compared to the meltdown I had when school bully Melvin Vandenberg, popped off one the buttons, then ran off and tossed it where I could not see. I tore up the flower beds looking for it until I was bodily picked-up and carried out screaming when I could not find it. I thought it lost forever. I was inconsolable. I thought..."

Mycroft saw the slight melancholy that creased Sherlock’s brow then and he knew.

"Though I have to say that must have been one impressive meltdown - enough to have your friend Victor and all of facilities scour the entire yard until it was found, Brother Mine, I would have never hated you for losing a simple button were it not found."

"I realized that later in hindsight. But right then and there when I already felt abandoned by you for going to uni without me, I just knew you were never coming back because I had been so careless." Sherlock shrugged and continued dressing.

So many, many years later and Mycroft could see a shadow of that hurt within his brother. It was life, he would not apologize for being off to university. Nonetheless he felt sorry for the pain his leaving caused Sherlock. It was the beginning of the chasm that formed between them. Given who they are as men, though things are certainly better, there still were moments when Mycroft wondered if it will ever close.

How does that feel? Sorrow, Regret.

Sherlock’s momentary grasp on his shoulder brought him back to the present. It reminded him of how far they have come that Sherlock not only noticed, but quietly did what was needed to remind him that it might have taken them a couple of decades but that chasm has begun to close.

How does that feel? Good. It was a good feeling.

"Victor found the button later and gave it to me and then walked up to Vandenberg and punched him in the nose making it bleed." Sherlock looked askance for a moment a small bittersweet smile at his lips. In less than two years from that day Sherlock loses Victor because of…her.

And it is Mycroft’s turn to grasp Sherlock’s shoulder to ground him.

"No one did anything like that for you again until John...and the cabbie..." Mycroft said carefully, years of being who he is reminding him ears can be anywhere listening.

"Not until John." Sherlock confirmed.

"And that’s why you're marrying him."

"One of the many reasons why." Sherlock tied a perfect double-Windsor knot on the second try. "None other cares for me the way John does."

"Oh?" Mycroft hmmed, tying a perfect double-Windsor knot on the first try. When Sherlock did not respond, Mycroft said nothing as he finished dressing.

John, for all he does care for Sherlock, he has only been in his brother's life the past eleven years. Even Gregory Lestrade, who certainly cared for Sherlock, had five more years than that. Except for the years in uni and the first few as an agent, Mycroft has spent his life, especially the last near thirty of them protecting Sherlock in so many ways. Yes, things were better, but there was still something of a strained relationship between them as adults. He could not help the twinge of hurt he felt at the seeming dismissal of it all.

How does that feel? Disappointment, with a tinge of resolve. It was not a good feeling.

"You two about ready in there?" Greg, John's best man, knocked on the door just then.

"We are." Mycroft went to the door, grateful for the diversion.

Gregory looked at him, the unspoken “You okay?” in the raised brow.

Mycroft gave a single nod in an equally unspoken “I'm fine.”

“How's John?" Mycroft knew his husband would understand he changed the subject on purpose, but would let it be for now, knowing he'd explain later.

"Left him with Mike, checking off the new, borrowed and blue." Greg stood at the door looking to Sherlock, "He said you had something for us…?"

"That reminds me, Sherlock, where is your something ol...?" Mycroft started to ask.

He stopped when Sherlock reached into a toiletry bag and handed him a small box. He raised a curious brow as he opened it, then gasped aloud as he looked at his brother completely stunned. "Oh Sherlock!"

"Myc?” Greg entered the room fully at Mycroft’s stuttered breath in contrast to Sherlock’s pleased but shy smile. He closed the door behind him. “Sherlock?"

Mycroft held the box out so Greg could see the contents.

"Bees and safety pins?" Greg looked from the little bee buttons inside the box to the two brothers staring at each other.

"You…" Mycroft’s usually cool blue-grey eyes were suddenly warm with unshed tears as he found his somewhat choked voice. His fingers gingerly touched the buttons as though he would not believe they existed without doing so. He stared at his little brother. “…you kept these...?”

"Of course." Sherlock reached into the box, "You got them just for me. You defied Mummy who was stuck on the gender bias of their coming from a girl's outfit. She told me years later how you argued with her for me to have them when you explained exactly how you knew I would wear them. Mrs. Hudson, Molly, and Rosie are wearing similar, but different bee buttons that I gifted them as important in my life. But these original buttons are ours…” Sherlock picked up two bees and safety pins and secured them to his brother’s lapel. "Though young yourself, you fought for me. You understood her points, but you fought for me to be me, even at that tender age. Yes, you left for uni soon after, and I simply could not understand that, but I have never forgotten that you did this for me Mycroft."

Mycroft was speechless as he watched Sherlock pin him. He remembered the buttons, naturally, but they were both children when he had given them to Sherlock. He had thought the buttons to be long lost to history. That Sherlock had kept them through the years since floored him.

How does that feel? Frankly overwhelming, but good.

"It was the first of many such battles between our parents and I until they finally understood I had to find my own way and they had to accept it. Other than the drug use, you have never stopped me from being me, even if you don’t always agree with my choices. John and Greg also accept me as I am and will each get one bee, but you were the first, so you get two.” Sherlock continued speaking as he straightened Mycroft’s lapel. “And for all the trouble I have given - and let's be honest will continue to give you - today, I wanted you to know while I outgrew the short pants, and the ability to easily tell you such, I have never outgrown my need for someone to understand the dragon slayer, when no one else does. Yes, I have John, Greg and even Molly, but they are not you. None other cares for me the way John does – save one. And right now, I want to acknowledge that One and say thank you. Thank you, for everything, Brother Mine. Thank you."

Hearing the words from Sherlock, the open acknowledgement, Mycroft was ashamed of having just thought his brother was apathetic to him. He should have known better. For all the strain between them growing up, Sherlock was very much like him in certain ways. Sherlock just was not one for such outward displays of affection.

Mycroft gave a tremulous smile at the memory of the conversation held as they smoked in front of their parents' house that long ago Christmas when he called Sherlock a dragon slayer. He was further shamed to realize that had been the last openly tender moment between them as brothers.

Until now.

Mycroft understood that heartfelt thank you was Sherlock's way of saying he loved him. It was as good as he was going to get with his brother.

And the unshed tears flowed. “Oh, Sherlock!”

Sherlock then picked up two more bees with safety pins and held them out to Mycroft. "Can you?""

"Oh, of course!" Mycroft took the items and pinned the bee buttons to Sherlock’s lapel. As soon as he was done, he did something he rarely did with his brother as an adult: pulled Sherlock into his arms and held him tight. "I love you, Sherlock."

Though he could never forget it, Mycroft will be eternally grateful to Greg, whom both brothers had all but forgotten was in the room with them, when in a few days will present him with a framed photograph of the moment captured on his phone.

The moment when Sherlock himself did something even more rare: hugged his brother back tightly and then said the actual words.

"I love you too, Mycroft."

How does that feel? Absolutely Wonderful!

---------

Read/Comment on AO3

#bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #mycroft holmes #brother!lock #mystradedialogueprompt

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mrsjobarnes · 6 months ago

Text

Not the Only Cowboy - Chapter 5

Summary: Jake had never been the type of guy to fall first, maybe you’ll be the one to change that.

A/N~ Sorry this took so long guys, I had writer's block, and then uni started and it got put on the back burner! However, I’m back and ready to finish this story! Also a huge Thank you to @angel-0f-verdun for helping me with this!

Jake Sersin x Nurse!reader

Word count: 1,172

Warning: Abuse, Angst, Violence

Likes & comments are welcome!

Please do not steal my work!

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

2 weeks. It took you two weeks for you to leave the guest room. You requested time off and were granted 2 weeks but after that, you’d have to go back, back to the place that no longer felt safe since Blake had found you.

He had crossed the country to find you, he didn’t care about the restraining order or that you had only packed the essentials and moved. No, you were still his, his to control, his to break, his to own till death, and even after that. You were his baby, his honey, his sugar, and he needs you back home. Your love hasn't always been like this. He was your college sweetheart, you were his tutor. His smart, kind, patient, and outgoing Y/N/N. After he graduated he went into the Navy to be a navigator and you continued your nursing school. Once you had graduated you became a civilian nurse serving on base. It was picture-perfect if you ignored the screaming matches and the occasional pushing and shoving. It didn't get bad until you were treating some of the naval men and he saw them flirting with you.

That's when the abuse started, he’d beat you within an inch of your life in places no one could see. He’d even threaten to shoot and kill you if you ran away. No one noticed till you were wearing long sleeves in a Virginia July. That's when your charge nurse Maggie asked you. You tried to lie but the 55-year-old saw right through you. She slipped a paper in your locker later that night with several phone numbers to call for help. You knew that she was just looking out for you but, at the moment you felt hurt and angry. Thankfully, the calm part of you kept that note and hid it in your locker. After six months of plotting with Maggie, the clouds parted and Blake was given orders to be deployed for 2 months. You took that as your chance to run. After saying your goodbyes, you sold your car and changed your phone and phone number, opened up a new bank account and purchased a plane ticket to your new haven.

It was your haven until he showed up. Destroying all you had built up, all of the work you’d put into making this place feel like a safe place had just been squashed by him. So here you are lying in Phoenix’s guest room, scared he’ll break through the second-story windows or the door. He’d threatened to kill you before who’s to say he won’t kill Phoenix to get to you? You need to start over again, how far would you go this time? Coast hopping didn’t work, maybe you needed to go to a northern state, he did hate the cold. Maybe in a small town in Montana, get a job at a hospital this time. Yes, that should work. You’ll just choose the smallest town possible, maybe ditch your phone and switch to a pager, they still had those right? You hear a knock at the front door. Your blood runs ice cold, and quickly you run into the ensuite bathroom and lock the door.

“Hey, Y/N it’s just me,” says Phoenix. “I bought groceries, what do you want for dinner?” she asks from the kitchen. You slowly exit the bathroom and start to head to the door, placing your hand on the handle you stop. Maybe you should just run at night and just take what you had here, grab your car, withdraw most of your money from the bank and run. By not telling anyone it would keep them safe right? Turning around, you text Phoenix that you’re not hungry and ask if she is going out tonight. She replies that she is, unless you want to talk. You tell her to enjoy her night and start researching on a private browser about where to go, maybe Sidney, Montana. It seemed small enough that no one would think to look there, now to look at apartments. After googling for about 30 minutes, Phoenix shouts that she’s leaving. Walking over to the window you peer out waiting till she leaves. Once the coast was clear you quickly started packing a bag and making a mental checklist of what you needed to do.

Pack

Shower

get food

Leave a note

Call Uber to the base

Bank and gas

—

25 minutes had passed and all you needed to do was get food and gas then stop at the bank, but first, you needed to get your car. You bring all of your things to the door. When all of a sudden you hear someone knocking at the front door. “Fuck” you whisper under your breath. Quietly you grab a kitchen knife and look through the peephole. When you are met with the most perfect green eyes. It was just Jake, you sigh and put the knife down. “Go away Jake,” you say through the door.

“Phoenix gave me a key, I’m coming in,” he asks.

“No, go away,” you say. He doesn’t listen and slowly enters the apartment. You grab the knife and point it at him, enraged he didn’t listen. “I said don’t come in Jake,” you say, clenching the knife for dear life. As he crosses the threshold, the two of you make eye contact. He has never seen someone so broken and scared, it breaks his heart.

“Hey Y/N” he says slowly approaching, you clench the knife trying to push back the fear. It's Jake, he’s not going to hurt you, but you thought the same thing of Blake. How could you have been so stupid? “Y/N Imma need you to put the knife down darling, I just want to talk okay?” he said, itching closer to you.

“Jake please leave, I don't want to talk. I just want to be left alone”

“No it looks like you're trying to run” he says pointing to the suitcase and backpack next to the door”.

“Why does it matter if I do? I have only brought trouble into the team's life. I've taken over Phoenix house and probably have a write-up at work for causing a scene. So just let me go, you’ll be fine without me.” you say hesitantly placing the knife down.

“No”

“No? What do you mean, No?” you say looking into his eyes.

“No, what about me? I know that’s selfish but you can’t leave me. I was an ass before I met you, I didn't care if I died on a mission as long as I went out in a blaze of glory, but now you’ve given me something to care about, someone who wants to come home too. So please stay, we can get you help. Cyclone says he could look into it, he just needs your permission.” Jake hesitantly walked up to you and cupped your face.

“Can you promise that you won't hurt me? '' You say as your eyes glisten with tears.

“I promise,” Jake says, pulling you into a hug.

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