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gilverrwrites · 7 months ago

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Summer Loving

Ft. Bruce, Dick, Jason, Roy, & Tim.

AN: Have a lot of lengthy and/or smutty wips on the go atm and I can feel them bogging me down a bit, so I decided to take a break and work on some short summer themed slice of life/domestic fluff to cleanse my palate. I feel I must apologise for my gratuitous and obvious Roy Harper thirst but I wont, enjoy!

CWs: Some are more suggestive than others, reader discretion advised. Minor swearing and minors swearing, mentions of alcohol. GN! Reader

Bruce: Tan Lines

It’s moments like these where you wish Bruce didn’t have to spend his nights on the endless pursuit of justice. You knew what you’d signed up for, but you’d missed him all day and god, the feel of his strong fingers massaging after sun into your skin was euphoric. Would you be such a bad guy for trying to convince him to stay home?

“I like this.” His hum pulls you from your train of thought, and you look down to see his fingers trailing against the tan line your shorts had caused. He spares you a quick suggestive glance, the look a wolf might give a rabbit it’s particularly fond of before dipping down to replace his hands with his mouth.

“Ohhh, stay home tonight Brucie?” The look he gives you this time maintains its warmth but there’s an air of warning to it. Despite his simmering combativeness, you add a charming “Please?”

To that he lifts his head, just far enough to deny you of his lips, but close enough that his low voice still seems to reverberate through your body as he speaks. “Crime doesn’t take the night off, neither can I.”

“I know.” You sigh, admitting defeat before the battle has even begun, and he rewards you by assuming his barrage of kisses to your lower body.

“Just don’t go out too early.” You advise, trailing the tip of your finger from ear to ear, estimating the line where his Batman cowl ends. “Don’t want to get any tan lines of your own.”

“Trust me.” There’s humour in his tone now as he works his way upwards, ghosting his 5 o'clock shadow along the skin of your stomach as he prowls closer. “The evening is young, and I have plans for you yet.”

Dick: A/C

The A/C is broken. Again. To combat the heat the whole household has resorted to wearing nothing but their underwear, except of course for Haley who is always naked. Lucky dog.

Additionally, all the windows are open in an attempt to let the cool night air circulate the humid apartment but all it’s really doing is letting in the ambient sound of Blüdhavens boisterous nightlife and countless flies.

“Want one?” Dick asks from the kitchen spaces as he digs into his second ice pop since dinner, you joke about envying his metabolism despite knowing damn well that’s not the real reason for his physique. Although between the food and the heat-induced skipped workout, he’s bloating, just a little bit; the tiniest, most delicious bit of plumpness and you can’t take your eyes off of it. “Are you checking me out?”

“Always.” You reply with a brazen smile, continuing your laser-focused stare even as he begins approaching your spot on the couch.

“How about you stop looking and start touching, huh baby?”

“No.” You finally cease your objectification of his stomach to look him in the eyes. The intended sternness in your tone is stifled by the way his icy confection has turned his lips blue. “I already told you, no sex in this heat until the air con is fixed.”

Despite your posturing, you don’t fight his closing proximity, nor do you stop him from dragging his cool-raspberry-stained tongue along the length of your throat, it’s still cold from the half-eaten lolly and the sensation sends a welcome chill through your body. As inefficient as it may be, you much prefer this method of cooling down to an A/C.

Jason: Sunrise

The metal grate of your fire escape is surprisingly cool against your bare feet. It’s early, pre-sunrise early but the air is still thick, a combination of the arid summer heat and steam of the cities underground. Despite the unpleasant temperature, you settle onto the grill, with nothing but a pillow for comfort and two ice-cold glasses of lemonade.

When 15 minutes pass, and you start to notice a growing tinge of orangeness in the sky, you start to worry you’re being stood up, or worse; something awful has happened. Something that would prevent him from coming home, but then you hear it; The heavy steps of Jason’s steel-toed boots approaching from your apartment’s rooftop.

You glance up just in time to see him dropping down. A loud clang rings out as he hits the floor, causing the whole structure to vibrate and you wonder if he does that every night, surely not, there’s no way you could sleep through it or that your neighbours wouldn’t complain.

“Aren’t you sweating balls?” You ask, taking in his gear as he sits down beside you. The boots, the cargo pants, turtleneck, jacket, gloves, and the full-face mask.

“Nah.” His voice is muffled by the headpiece until he takes it off, shaking his head to support his answer. “It’s weird but I’ve kinda run cold ever since I died, you know?”

Obviously you don’t know, in fact having felt his searing, naked skin pressed to yours on multiple occasions, you highly doubt him, but you nod regardless and hand him his drink. Unlike a man on the chilly side, he chugs half of the icy drink in one go and you wonder if he’ll ever stop jumping from buildings and telling white lies to impress you.

“Want some help warming up?” Before he can respond you lean up, brushing your nose against his and watching as his lids flutter closed in anticipation, his breath is cool on your lips and when you finally press into them you can taste nothing but the tartness of the lemonade. Regardless, it’s heavenly; soft and tender. Every kiss with Jason makes your heart flutter in the same way it had the first time.

When he pulls away you chase after him, eyes only opening to meet his heterochromatic irises when your pursuit for more becomes an abundant failure.

He’s grinning as he tells you; “We’re missing the sunrise.”

“I don’t care.” You answer, trying again, and this time succeeding in drawing him in for another kiss.

Roy: Paddling Pool

If ever anybody asked you to describe a moment of pure domestic bliss, this moment would be a strong contender. Your lower body is submerged in a paddling pool as you bask in the sun, enjoying the occasional splash of water caused by Lian’s uncoordinated but enthusiastic dancing beside you. She too is basking, but hers is under an endless stream of hose water being directed by her father; Roy, who is watching the two of you from a sun lounger, hosepipe in one hand and a non-alcoholic beer in the other.

He's quite the vision, no shoes, no shirt, just tastefully tacky swim trunks and his iconically worn-out grey baseball cap that may be protecting his head, but is doing little to tame his mop of fiery hair. From this angle, you’ve got a great shot of some of his lesser-seen tattoos, but every time you look over at him you find yourself far more smitten with the countless freckles that adorn his chest and shoulders, made darker and more noticeable by the recent heatwave.

“How’s the Heineken?” You ask, genuinely curious how he’s enjoying his first taste of alcohol-free booze.

“Crap.” He replies, lips briefly curving into a self-amused smirk before dropping to woefully panicked as you both turn to look at Lian. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to have been listening in, content in her own toddler babblings. Relieved, he turns his attention back to you and corrects himself. “Um, not good babe.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry.” You offer your condolences, but he seems completely unbothered.

Instead, he turns the glass bottle around in his hands a few times before chucking it over his shoulder. It sails through the air before seamlessly landing in the open bin by your backdoor. Your concern about it leaking into the rest of the recycling is seconded by how impressed you are. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times his trick-shot hit, you’re always at least a little bit captivated by his impeccable aim.

“It’s cool, hon.” He shrugs and leans back into the lounger. His eyes flicker back and forth between you and his child, a slow, contented smile spreading across his face. “Got everything I need right here.”

Bonus:

Hours later, you’re sorting through the soggy contents of the recycling as Roy scoops Lian up in his arms and takes her sleepy frame inside. The sun is still high and bright, but it’s past her bedtime, and it’s been a long, exciting day for her. He dries her with the softest towel he can find, careful to pat down every pruned finger and toe before putting her to bed.

“How was your day, sweetie?” He asks, strong fingers petting her soft hair to help soothe her to sleep.

“Crap!”

Tim: Ice Cream

Tim is still sleeping off a rough, muggy night of crime fighting as you circumnavigate the boat's sad excuse for a kitchen. The bags under his eyes had been growing darker each day under the stress of hunting down a mysterious new bank robber. You’d hoped to lift his spirits by surprising him with a tub of homemade ice cream, but so far all you’d managed to make is a mess.

After having a falling out with the thrifted ice cream maker you’d stuffed in the back of a cupboard months ago, you settled for hand mixing. By the time you put the concoction in the freezer to set, your wrists are aching, and Tim has begun to stir. You’re just finishing up the dishes you’d created when he finally emerges from the bedroom in shorts, flip-flops, and a not-so-summer-appropriate hoodie.

Before you can offer a ‘good morning, Timmybear’ his arms are around your waist, pulling you close from behind and settling the weight of his sleepy head on your shoulder.

“What’s this?” He asks and then he’s licking what you can only assume is a stray splash of the mixture from your cheek with the bravery only a man raised by Batman could possess. It could have been literally anything. “Banana?”

“Chunky monkey actually.” Goddamn. Surprise ruined in less than a minute. Oh well, at least you can give him something to look forward to. “Don’t worry, I didn’t get ice cream without you, I made it for you.”

“I figured.” He hums, sounding so very drowsy despite the ease with which he manoeuvres your body against the kitchen counter so he can keep you close while brewing his morning tea, occasionally planting soft kisses to the side of your neck as his hands move absentmindedly. “You’re the best, you know that? Can’t wait to try it.”

“You figured? How did you figure?” You skip right past the justified praise; he’d been practically comatose since 4 AM, how could he have figured?

“It’s on the ceiling.” He’s right, you look up to see a cream-soaked walnut lodged above you and let out a dramatic sigh as you fall deeper into Tim's arms.

Taglist: @wandalfnation

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

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tw - unhealthy relationships, non/con, mentions of overstimulation, dehumanization, semi-public sex, and abuse.

[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]

If Arlecchino had it her way, you think you’d be more of a doll than a person.

Not that it would make much of a difference when it comes to how she treats you. To her, all the world might as well be pieces of a chessboard; playthings to pose and position as she deems fit. Knights are sent into righteous battles, pawns are burnt to ash on first line of fire, and you’re made to watch it all from your place on a glass-enclosed pedestal, where the cruelties of the world are visible, but at a distance. That’s a flaw in her little world that Arlecchino hasn’t realized, yet – your eyes, unlike those of the delicate figurines she favors, are not only painted on.

You suppose you should count yourself lucky, when compared to the rest of her unfortunate collection. Most of her pieces are chipped and scarred, sharpened into fine, deadly points only to be discarded when they begin to dull. You, on the other hand, have proved yourself worthy of her maintenance. Your wardrobe is curated to her particular tastes, every style of bow and pattern of lace hand-selected to suit her preferred aesthetics, and she spends each morning running comb after comb through your hair, brushing rouge onto your cheeks, taking leisurely minutes to decide if she’d rather see you in blue or pink or lilac – always light colors, always gentle. You think, sometimes, that you must look like a groomed dog next to her, pastel and ridiculous next to her monotone elegance. Often, you try not to think about how little of a difference it would make if she added a leash and collar to your daily ensemble.

She rarely lets you leave her sight. Of course, obligation does draw her away from you from time to time (a rarity she laments as often as you pray for), but whenever possible, she has you sitting pretty by her side or, better yet, perched in her lap, straddling her waist and sobbing quietly into her chest as her clever fingers bring you to the brink of climax for the nth time in the past hour. The company she keeps rarely makes a difference when it comes to how or when she touches you – although, you do try not to remember how many of her colleagues have seen you with teary eyes and open legs. A doll’s owner rarely questions the way they choose to handle their toy, and so, she’s content not to think about how she handles you. Her only acknowledgement of your suffering is a quick kiss to the cheek as she coaxes you onto your own feet, a muttered comment about the new stain on the dark fabric of her pants. It’s a miracle that you can bear the humiliation of it, but your endurance is a convenience, not a necessity. There’s no reality in which your limitations alone would be enough to stop her.

Arlecchino does, at least, make the occasional effort to pretend she thinks of you as a partner, rather than a plaything. She’s made it clear that, in her ideal world, you’d happily accept the total loss of your autonomy and thank her for each and every second you spend under the torment of her obsession, but she settles for the occasional, trembling smile when she presents you with a gift or confection you lingered on while passing by an especially charming shop, the tender intimacy of your head resting on her shoulder when yet another meeting proves to be more long-lasting than your attention span. On her best days, she’ll even respond to your timid requests to please not leave another bruise on your neck, another fang shaped indentation on your collarbone with a breath of a laugh and a hushed explanation of why she has to, rather than just an outright, wordless dismissal. You wouldn’t quite say she listens to you, but it’s as close as she comes.

Dolls, after all, are incapable of requesting to be played with in a certain way, or asking their owners to treat them more gently, or speaking up about anything at all.

A doll, Arlecchino’s ideal doll, can only watch with a smile as it’s broken apart.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshinx reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin #genshin #yandere arlecchino #arlecchino x reader

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writteninlunarlight-years · 4 months ago

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Hi, Since it is the Fall season and Halloween is near, I was wondering if you could do Hazbin Cast x Reader, where it is romantic or platonic short stories but they are all Fall/Halloween-themed?

Romantic:

Lucifer - Haunted Maze -

He didn’t quite grasp why he’d suggested this adventure in the first place. It wasn’t fear that held him back—after all, he was the embodiment of darkness, the big bad devil himself. But amidst his bravado, a flicker of insecurity danced in his chest. Perhaps it was the need to impress you, or maybe it was the realization that after seven long years spent nursing his wounds from Lilith, so much had shifted in the world—and within him.

You both sported casual attire, clad in comfortable jeans and T-shirts that spoke of a relaxed night ahead. Excitement bubbled within you as you approached the entrance of the maze, the air thick with anticipation of what lay beyond. With the king of Hell by your side, this was bound to be an extraordinary experience. You bounced on your heels, your heart racing as you absorbed the eerie ambiance and listened intently to the rules. And just like that, you were off to the races, plunging into the unknown.

It was impossible to choose which aspect thrilled you more: the delightfully creepy atmosphere of the maze or the sight of Lucifer, the master of mischief, visibly unnerved as he navigated the twists and turns. Yet, the most magical part of this escapade was the way you both clung to each other like schoolchildren lost in a thrilling game, your laughter echoing in the shadows, creating an unbreakable bond that brought you closer than ever before.

Alastor - Baking -

He was bursting with enthusiasm to share some of Louisiana's culinary secrets with you, ready to whisk you away into the world of gumbo and jambalaya. But what he hadn’t anticipated was your own infectious excitement as you revealed plans for a homemade apple pie and caramel apples. Despite his usual aversion to sweets, denying you was simply out of the question; your passion was too irresistible.

Clad in your matching aprons, you both chuckled softly as you navigated through the mountain of cookbooks scattered around the cozy kitchen. The air was filled with the intoxicating scents of flour, sugar, and spices while a delightful chaos unfolded. You danced around each other, laughter bubbling up as you measured and mixed, transforming the kitchen into a whimsical wonderland of baked delights.

By the time nightfall claimed the day, the countertops were brimming with an array of confections that could tempt even the most disciplined. Yet, the sweetest part of the evening wasn’t just the delectable treats you’d created together; it was the gentle, lingering kisses shared amidst the flour-dusted chaos, each one a tender reminder of the enchanting memories you were crafting side by side.

Vox - Pumpkin Patch -

In his living years, he’d often heard tales of couples embarking on this charming tradition, though he had never truly participated himself. Now, with you by his side, he felt a surge of willingness to dive into this age-old custom. There was something undeniably endearing about selecting something special together, a silent acknowledgment of the bond you shared. Though he’d never admit it aloud, the thought warmed his heart.

He couldn’t help but blush at the sight of you in your simple overalls, a refreshing contrast to your usual work attire. You radiated a wholesome charm that made his heart flutter. In that moment, he felt an unexpected sense of domesticity, a cozy warmth that enveloped him as you stood together. Even though he was still dressed in his formal suit, your bright smile and gentle words encouraged him to embrace the moment and fully enjoy the date.

After you both selected your pumpkins, his grin widened, stretching from ear to ear. You were delightfully cute, struggling to carry as many pumpkins as your arms would allow, and he couldn’t help but find joy in your determination. He didn’t even think to mention his ability to teleport them home with a snap of his fingers; instead, he allowed his heart to swell with love for you, savoring the simple pleasure of being together in this enchanting moment.

Adam - Scary Movies -

Scary movies held no terror for the first man. Adam had witnessed a myriad of horrifying sights throughout his time as both a living man and an angel. With a heart full of courage, he was ready to be your knight in shining armor as blood-soaked apparitions and creepy clowns flickered menacingly across the screen. Nothing could shake his resolve—or so he thought.

Dressed in comfortable sweats and without his usual mask, Adam wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close as you prepared to press play on the TV. His smile was wide and infectious, and he secretly hoped you’d leap into his arms, proclaiming him your one and only lover, your fearless savior. But reality had other plans, far from the fantasy he envisioned.

As the final movie of your horror marathon drew to a close, you found yourself a laughing, blushing mess beside him, while he transformed into an adorably clingy bundle of nerves. It hadn’t even taken an hour for him to succumb to the tension, burying his face in your neck and holding on for dear life. The only silver lining of the night was the way you protected him from nightmares, showering him with sweet kisses and gentle cuddles, ensuring that he felt safe and cherished amidst the chaos of the films.

Husk - Fall Leaves -

He wasn’t one for fun, love, or anything that didn’t involve the comforting depths of a bottle. Yet, you were the radiant light in his otherwise shadowy world, and he would drop everything for you in a heartbeat. You were the only one who stood by him when life felt bleak and heavy, so he was ready to step outside and embrace the messiness of life alongside you.

He had no clue how you managed to charm Lucifer into conjuring trees adorned with vibrant, falling leaves, but your infectious joy made it impossible for him to resist. As he watched you adjust your little outfit, a warm smile tugged at his lips, despite his best efforts to suppress it. With rakes in hand, you both set to work, gathering leaves to create a magnificent pile, eagerly anticipating the moment when you could leap into the crisp autumn bounty.

He had to admit that the first few jumps felt a bit strange, a quirky tradition he was still getting used to. However, as you continued to play and laugh, he discovered that this outdoor activity was more addictive than any drink he’d ever known. The thrill of leaping into the colorful leaves became infinitely more enjoyable simply because you were by his side. He’d gladly dive into autumn leaves all year round if it meant sharing those moments with you, wrapped in laughter and warmth.

Platonic:

Charlie - Pumpkin Carving -

She was the one who suggested pumpkin carving, a clever idea to break the ice and strengthen your friendship. Since you were still relatively new to the hotel, it was the perfect excuse to spend some quality time together and deepen your bond. After all, what better way to get to know someone than through a little arts and crafts?

The lobby was transformed into a creative playground, with a pristine white tarp spread out like a canvas and one enormous pumpkin waiting to be deseeded and carved by the two of you. The experience quickly turned into a delightful mess, with pumpkin seeds flying and the sticky insides of the gourd splattering everywhere. Laughter echoed off the walls as you both embraced the chaos, reveling in the joy of your shared endeavor.

As you carved and chatted, you discovered so much about one another, and with each passing moment, you felt more at home in the hotel. Charlie’s quirky personality was a breath of fresh air, and you couldn’t help but smile at her antics. If she was willing to embrace your own sinful quirks, you could definitely see this blossoming friendship becoming something truly special.

Angel - Dressing up -

This Halloween, you were determined to shine; however, your fashion sense was more frightful than fabulous. Your quirky friend, the spider demon, with a flair for style, was eager to help select the perfect costume. While the thought of being dressed by an overly seductive arachnid gave you hesitance, your trust in him was unwavering.

The real fun kicked off once you stepped into his fabulously chaotic room. You two explored various costume possibilities, from whimsical animals to bizarre inanimate objects. After a spirited debate, you both agreed that a chic, simple costume would be the perfect choice. With some creativity, Angel transformed clothing and makeup into a masterpiece while seamlessly addressing your concerns with a playful grin.

Amidst the playful banter and flirtatious jabs, you could feel the bond between you tightening like a spider's web. When he finally unveiled your outfit, you were relieved and delighted! It was stylish yet tasteful—no “thrown together by a toddler” vibes in sight.

Rosie - Full Moon -

When she invited you to a night of stargazing under the full moon, a tiny voice in your head couldn't help but whisper that she might have sinister intentions—like sacrificing you in some ritualistic feast for her colony. But those wild thoughts melted away as you arrived at the rendezvous point to find her setting up a cozy scene with a telescope and blankets, ready for a night of the moon and stars.

She whipped up a delightful picnic that catered to both your cravings, complete with snacks as varied as the stars above. As you snuggled into the blankets, the chill of the night felt invigorating rather than off-putting. With each passing hour, you watched the sky transform while sharing the latest gossip and secrets, laughter echoing into the night.

The friend date turned out to be nothing short of magical. As dawn began to break, you both reluctantly packed up, yawning but utterly satisfied. She beamed joyfully, thrilled that you had chosen to spend the night exploring the cosmos and each other’s thoughts. It was a night of friendship that was as charming as it was entertaining.

Vaggie - Hay Rides -

You were buzzing with excitement to take Vaggie on an unforgettable adventure! Ever since she and Charlie became an official couple, it had been a challenge to carve out some quality friend time. So, when Charlie graciously offered you both a day to yourselves, you practically flew out the door! Standing in the dusklit field with cash in hand, you couldn’t help but tug Vaggie onto the hayride, giggles bubbling up as you set off on the great ride around a farm.

As the ride bounced along, it took a moment, but soon Vaggie’s initial hesitation melted away, replaced by a radiant smile that mirrored your own excitement. The small farm around you was a whimsical blend of charm and spookiness, with enchanting decorations that made the whole experience feel like a Halloween fairytale. You could see the joy in her eyes, and it warmed your heart to know she was glad to be there.

Once you both hopped off the hayride and snagged some delicious treats for the trek back to the hotel, light banter flowed easily between you two. It felt like old times, and Vaggie expressed her happiness at rekindling a friendship you once feared was lost. She made it clear that she was eager to put in the effort to spend more time together, and the promise of future adventures filled you with anticipation.

Lute - Bonfires -

Lute wasn’t one to slack off—training was her life’s mantra. But when the exorcists practically begged for a Halloween party, it was Adam who ultimately nudged her out of her comfort zone and into the outdoor festivities. You, her best friend, were the first to greet her with a grin, pulling her toward the bonfire where you knew the chaos would be at a minimum.

As you settled down, the crackling flames and the earthy scent of burning wood created a cozy backdrop for your conversation. You and Lute dove into discussions about new training techniques and strategizing battle plans for upcoming exterminations, your voices mingling with the night air. The only interruption came from Adam himself, who swung by with his usual enthusiasm, trying to coax you both into his quirky game of hide and seek. You exchanged knowing glances and politely declined, choosing instead to savor the peaceful moment.

When the party finally wound down, the scene was a chaotic tapestry of friends sprawled out in various states of slumber, with tents holding those lucky enough to make it to shelter. But you and Lute, the dedicated fighters, remained wide awake, the smoky aroma of the campfire still clinging to your clothes. As dawn broke, you plotted your playful revenge on Adam, eager to disrupt his hangover with the kind of mischief only best friends could concoct.

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holylulusworld · 1 year ago

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Dinner for three

Summary: You and your husband eat together to celebrate something special

Pairing: AU!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, pregnant reader

Catch up here: Dinner for two

Dinner for … masterlist

“The usual?” The hostess chuckles at the insider joke. “Your table is ready, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes.” She guides you toward your table. “I hope you’ll like our new menu. We have a few new desserts.”

“New desserts,” you hum. “Maybe I’ll try something new tonight. What do you recommend?”

Bucky chuckles next to you. He knows you’ve got a sweet tooth when it comes to desserts.

“Oh, I’d recommend the new tiramisu with cherries. Not everyone likes it, but it tastes like heaven. It’s alcohol-free too if you do not like your tiramisu with alcohol.”

Bucky pulls the chair for you, still smiling as you keep on talking to the hostess. He pecks your cheek and whispers something only you can hear.

“I love cherries,” you exclaim. “And it’s a plus that the dessert is alcohol-free. I do not like alcohol in a dessert.”

“We already decided on the dessert then,” he says and sits down to have a look at the menu. “What about the main course, doll? Salmon maybe or lasagna?”

You grin. “The usual please, Clarice,” you say before Bucky gets the chance to decide on what to eat. I’ll take the chicken parmesan and my husband will take the usual.”

“You know me so well,” he grins and closes the menu. Bucky gently grabs your hand to bring it to his lips. “It’s been five years since we first met here. I can’t believe I met the love of my life by chance at my favorite restaurant after I got stood up.”

“Mr. Barnes are you trying to seduce me with your charm and pretty smile,” you chuckle. “You know we are already married, right?”

“This doesn’t mean that I’ll stop complimenting you, Y/N,” he flashes you a smile. “I got a surprise for you too, baby doll. I want to celebrate our anniversary.”

“I want to celebrate something too, baby. It’s a surprise,” you return his smile and bat your eyelashes. “I think this is the perfect moment. But let’s eat first. I’m starving.”

“What? No…you can’t just do things like that and leave me hanging, Y/N,” he pouts, making your resolve crumble. “Please tell me.” Bucky is giddy like a child when you refuse to tell him about the surprise.

You will take your time and wait for the perfect moment. For now, you are damn hungry and want to enjoy dinner with the man you love.

“…and then you just sat down and had dinner with me and my bear,” you giggle at the memory. “If you think about it, I should’ve thanked my unfaithful ex for cheating on me. If he wasn’t such a horrid person, we’d never met.”

“I’ll send him a gift hamper,” Bucky smirks and dips his head to watch you get something out of your bag, “but instead of confect or wine, he’ll get a turd, so he knows he’s a piece of shit.” He whispers the last part.

“James Buchanan Barnes!” You raise your index finger. “You won’t poop into a gift hamper. That’s not…” You struggle not to laugh. “We should stop talking about my ex. I have a surprise I wanted to share with you.”

“Before dessert?” He asks.

You open your hand to reveal a business card with his name on it. Bucky cocks a brow when you place the card on the table and shove it toward him. “What’s this?”

“I made your new business cards,” you casually say. “Why don’t you read it? I chose a nice font, and the paper is eco-friendly. Maybe you should read your new title first.”

“New font, huh?” Bucky wonders aloud as he looks at the business card. “Hmm…James Buchanan Barnes, best soon-to-be dad in the world.” He swallows audibly. “Is this real?”

“I got to know this morning,” You get a tiny shirt saying Daddy luvs me out. “I didn’t feel well over the last days, and I was overdue.” You lick your lips. Bucky and you talked about having children, but now you are a little nervous. “I was seeing my gynecologist and they confirmed that I’m five weeks pregnant.”

“I-“ he looks at the tiny shirt. “Really?” Bucky hiccups. “You are not joking?” He jumps up, knocking his chair over to pounce on you. Bucky wraps you in his arms and whispers your name.

“Buck, are you happy? I know this is sudden and—” Bucky cups your face and presses his lips.

“More than happy, baby doll,” he smiles, and tears are in his eyes. “I guess this means we are having dinner for three soon.”

“We already have dinner for three, baby. They are with us, and enjoyed every bite,” he laughs and kisses you again.

“Dinner for three,” he whispers. “I can’t wait to tell them our story…”

Part 4

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #Dinner for three #au!bucky barnes x reader #pregnant reader

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doumadono · 1 year ago

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GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST

Itto

Itto would morph into a blushing tomato before he could muster the guts to ask for a kiss from you. His usual carefree swagger would crumble into a nervous wreck, and his words would stumble out like they were trying to navigate a maze of shyness. It looked as if his hand might quake with the sheer force of his own bashfulness.

“Y/N, can I...” he'd falter, the hesitation hanging in the air like a dramatic pause in a play.

“What's on your mind, Arataki?” you would inquire, catching on to his internal struggle.

Despite his attempts to play it cool, Itto's infatuation would be practically screaming. His eyes would linger on the curve of your lips, and the subtle, unintentional act of moistening his own would give away the unspoken desire within him.

But when the kiss finally happened, it would be nothing short of a tender delight. Itto would revel in the simplicity of a soft peck, as if it could light up his entire existence. The shy encounter would be etched into his memory, a moment frozen in time, but now, he'd carry it like a cocky badge of honor.

As the sweet exchange concluded, Arataki, now brimming with newfound swagger, would seize the moment to intertwine his fingers with yours, as if to say, "Well, that wasn't so tough, now was it?"

Wriothesley

Wriothesley, being the smooth gentleman he is, always manages to charm you into saying yes when he craves a little pick-me-up kiss. He's got this super sweet approach, especially when the weight of work stress is bearing down on him.

Sometimes, he'll straight-up ask, all sweet and innocent, "Y/N, my little sweetpie, could you give me a kiss?"

But then there are those times when subtlety is thrown out the window. Wriothesley would casually grab you by the waist when there's even a hint of an opportunity, pulling you close against his broad chest with a confident whisper, "Come and kiss daddy, babygirl."

And oh, those kisses! They're like an addiction you willingly succumb to. Sometimes, he's in the mood for a bit of teasing – a swift lick of your bottom lip, a taste that's enough to recharge his energy, leaving you slightly breathless and craving more.

Neuvilette

You remain appreciative that he confines these moments to the privacy of our home or when solitude envelops you.

Whenever the inclination to kiss strikes, his approach is marked by a profound passion, and the duration extends beyond mere seconds. It's as though he seeks to savor every nuance of your being.

When he needs it, he'll watch you intently for a while, whether engaged in scrutinizing others or engrossed in a case. Then, with a politeness that conceals a subtle demand, he would utter, "Kiss me, my love."

His lips, when they meet yours, carry the faint taste of candy. It leads you to ponder whether he perennially indulges in this confection, given the persistently sweet flavor that lingers in his mouth.

Zhongli

Zhongli, unapologetically, never shies away from asserting his desires, regardless of the setting. His kisses, a blend of demand and tenderness, are a testament to the assertive nature of the Geo Archon. In moments when he craves proximity, he doesn't hesitate to make his intentions known.

"Y/N, I want a kiss from you," he commands, the weight of his voice carrying a subtle dominance, a declaration of his desires that brooks no opposition. His hands, steady and firm, find their place at your waist, claiming it as if sculpting the very essence of intimacy.

Zhongli's kisses unfold with deliberate slowness, a deliberate dance that brushes his lips against yours in unhurried motions. The demand in his kiss, paired with the gentle exploration, creates a harmonious balance that reflects both his dominance and the depth of his affection.

Your compliance to his requests is wholehearted, a testament to your fondness for each and every one of his kisses. The unspoken understanding between you two only deepens the connection, allowing the echoes of Zhongli's dominance to resonate in the intimate moments you share.

Kaveh

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Kaveh beckons you with a sing-song voice, his lips playfully pouting as he calls, "Baby, come give me a kissy kissy, yeah?" Persistent and unyielding, he brushes off any attempt to decline, challenging you with a raised eyebrow and a daring smirk.

Refusing him is not an option, for Kaveh always presses on. He questions your love for him, provocatively asking if he's lost his touch as a kisser.

When it comes to stealing sweet moments, Kaveh doesn't shy away. He's not afraid to snatch a taste of any candy you hold between your lips. And as he leans back, a sassy smirk plays on his face, leaving no doubt about the intensity and seriousness he invests in each stolen kiss. "Mmm, sweetie, that was the sweetest kiss you've ever offered me!"

#genshin impact x reader #neuvilette genshin #neuvillette #neuvilette x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley headcanons #arataki itto #itto x you #itto headcanons #itto x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #kaveh headcanons #kaveh x reader #kaveh fluff #kaveh x you

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muiitoloko · 3 months ago

Note

Ooo, I have one. Can you write something with Judge Turpin with a 22 year old virgin fiance who's shy when it comes to affection gets jealous when a secretary of his not so subtly flirts with him and the reader gets jealous? Maybe the reader pulls him in a heated, passionate kiss when the secretary leaves?

Title: The Judge's Indulgence

Summary: When Judge Turpin dismisses her offering of sweets, a lady finds an unconventional way to win his favor, setting propriety ablaze with a stolen kiss.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Jealous

Author's Notes: Thank you so much for the request! This sounds like such an intriguing and spicy dynamic to write, especially with Judge Turpin’s brooding nature paired with a shy but passionate fiancée!

Also read on Ao3

The ornate office of Judge Richard Turpin was dimly lit, with heavy drapes drawn to shield the room from the afternoon sun. The only sound was the faint rustle of fabric as you adjusted your skirts, seated delicately on a chair across from him. The basket of sweets you had brought rested on his desk, and you watched with a mixture of anticipation and shyness as he assessed its contents.

Judge Turpin, clad in his judicial robes but without his wig, his stern features softened only slightly by the flickering candlelight, reached into the basket. His hooked nose twitched as he inhaled the scent of sugar and spices, his hazel eyes flicking toward you briefly before settling back on the confections. His imposing presence made your stomach flutter, and you clasped your hands tightly in your lap, waiting for his reaction.

“You made these yourself?” he asked, his baritone voice as steady and commanding as always, though a hint of curiosity edged his tone.

“Yes, Your Honor,” you replied softly, your voice trembling slightly. You dared to lift your gaze to meet his, only to quickly look away when you found him studying you intently. “I thought… I thought you might enjoy them.”

Turpin’s fingers hovered over the basket for a moment before he selected a delicate sweet, turning it over in his hand as though assessing its worth. “How industrious,” he remarked, his voice carrying a note of approval that sent a faint warmth to your cheeks. “A noblewoman who can both charm and labor. A rare combination.”

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond, but your heart swelled with a shy sense of pride at his words. As he raised the sweet to his lips, your pulse quickened. You watched him intently, holding your breath as he took a small bite, his expression unreadable.

After a moment, he set the half-eaten sweet back into the basket and wiped his hands with a handkerchief. “I do not care for sweets,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact.

His words struck you like a blow, and you felt your smile falter. Your gaze dropped to your lap as your fingers fidgeted with the folds of your skirt. “Oh,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “I… I didn’t know…”

The maid standing silently in the corner shifted slightly, though she said nothing. Turpin, noticing your expression, leaned forward, his piercing hazel eyes narrowing as he observed you. “You’re disappointed,” he stated, not unkindly, though there was a hint of curiosity in his tone.

You shook your head quickly, not wanting to seem foolish. “No, Your Honor. It’s… it’s nothing. I only wished to please you, and I seem to have failed.”

“Failed?” His deep voice carried a sharp edge of disapproval, and you flinched slightly. “Look at me.”

You hesitated but obeyed, lifting your gaze to meet his. His expression was unreadable, his hooked nose casting a shadow over his angular features as he studied you. “You misunderstand me,” he said after a pause, his tone softer now, though still commanding. “I do not care for sweets, it is true. But that does not mean I do not appreciate the effort behind this gesture.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and you found yourself unable to hold his gaze for long. “I only wished to show my gratitude,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “For your kindness in courting me.”

He leaned back in his chair, his lips curling into a faint smile, though it did not reach his eyes. “Kindness, you say?” he mused, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair. “I wonder if you understand me at all, my dear.”

The cryptic nature of his remark made your heart race, but before you could respond, he continued. “You must not let disappointment cloud your face so easily,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “A lady of your station must learn to mask her emotions, even when things do not go as planned.”

“I… I shall try, Your Honor,” you replied quietly, your hands clasping your skirts more tightly.

He reached for the basket again, selecting another sweet. This time, instead of tasting it himself, he extended it toward you. “Here,” he said, his hazel eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite place. “You made them. You should enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

You hesitated, your cheeks growing warmer under his intense gaze. “I—”

“Take it,” he commanded gently, his voice brooking no argument. “Indulge yourself, my dear.”

With trembling fingers, you accepted the sweet, your eyes flicking to the maid for reassurance before you took a small bite. The rich flavors of sugar and spices filled your mouth, and you couldn’t help the small smile that crossed your lips.

Turpin watched you closely, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Much better,” he said, his baritone voice softer now. “A smile suits you far more than a frown.”

The warmth in his gaze, though fleeting, sent a strange flutter through your chest. For all his sternness and formality, there was something about Judge Turpin that made you feel seen in a way you could not quite explain.

The knock on the door cut through the room’s quiet tension, and Judge Turpin’s hazel eyes shifted sharply toward the sound. His hooked nose twitched with impatience as he straightened in his chair. “Enter,” he commanded, his baritone voice carrying an edge of irritation.

The heavy oak door creaked open, and a woman stepped inside, her confident stride drawing immediate attention. You recognized her at once—Turpin’s secretary. You had spoken to her briefly before this meeting, and now, as she approached Turpin’s desk with a stack of documents, your stomach twisted. She was beautiful, with a calculated elegance that seemed almost predatory. Her dress, cut provocatively low at the neckline, left little to the imagination.

“Your Honor,” she purred, her voice smooth as honey, as she placed the papers before him. Her fingers lingered on the desk’s surface, her eyes flicking to his with an ease that made your chest tighten. “The documents you requested.”

Turpin barely glanced at her, his expression stoic as he reached for the papers. “Thank you, Miss Harrington,” he said curtly, though his gaze lingered on the documents rather than her.

Undeterred, the secretary leaned forward slightly, angling her body in a way that emphasized her figure. “I trust everything is in order,” she murmured, her tone suggestive, her lips curving into a coy smile. “If there’s anything else you need, Your Honor, you know I am always at your service.”

You sat silently, your fingers twisting in your lap as a wave of jealousy began to bubble within you. Her boldness was infuriating, her familiarity with him unsettling. How dare she behave so casually in front of you, as if your presence was inconsequential?

Miss Harrington leaned closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper as she added, “I’d be happy to assist with… anything.”

Turpin’s brow furrowed faintly, but he gave no outward reaction beyond a dismissive wave of his hand. “That will be all, Miss Harrington,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The secretary straightened but not without a lingering glance in his direction. She turned to leave, her skirts swishing with deliberate grace, but not before throwing you a faint, smug smile over her shoulder. Your hands clenched tighter in your lap as the door closed behind her.

The room fell into silence once more, but your heart raced, your jealousy simmering into something fierce. Without thinking, you rose from your chair, crossing the space between you and Turpin in a few swift steps. He looked up, surprised, as you stopped in front of his desk.

“Your Honor,” you began, your voice trembling but resolute, “forgive me, but I can’t—” Your words faltered as your emotions overwhelmed you. Acting on instinct alone, you leaned down and pressed your lips firmly to his.

Turpin stiffened in shock, his hands frozen over the papers before him. But the surprise lasted only a moment. His response came swiftly, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that left you breathless. His hands gripped the edge of the desk as though anchoring himself, his control slipping as the kiss deepened.

The heat of the moment consumed you both, his baritone voice rumbling faintly in his chest as he broke away briefly to murmur, “You are bold, my dear. I did not take you for the daring type.”

Before you could respond, his lips claimed yours again, his kiss more insistent, his hazel eyes dark with desire as he cupped your face. His fingers, calloused yet careful, held you as though you were a treasure he had no intention of letting go.

The maid in the corner cleared her throat loudly, the sound startling you both. You pulled back abruptly, your cheeks burning as reality crashed over you. Turpin straightened, his composed demeanor returning swiftly, though his hazel eyes still burned with unspoken intensity.

“Your Honor,” the maid said, her voice trembling with propriety. “Forgive me, but I felt it my duty to… intervene. For the lady’s honor.”

Turpin’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, his hooked nose casting a shadow over his angular features. He turned to you, his gaze lingering on your flushed face. “Your maid is loyal,” he remarked, his voice steady once more. “And wise. For now, at least, your honor remains intact.”

You opened your mouth to apologize, but he raised a hand to stop you. “No need for words,” he said, his tone softening as his gaze dropped briefly to your lips. “Though I do not care for sweets, I find that the sweetness of your lips is an indulgence I could grow quite fond of.”

His words sent a shiver through you, and you clasped your hands tightly in your lap to steady yourself. Turpin rose from his chair, his imposing height casting a shadow over you as he stepped closer. “Remember this moment, my dear,” he said, his voice low, his eyes locking onto yours. “It is the first of many.”

Your breath caught as he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours before withdrawing. “Now,” he said, his tone shifting back to its usual authoritative cadence, “we shall return to propriety—for now.”

You nodded, your heart still racing as you returned to your seat. The maid stood silently in the corner, her gaze fixed firmly on the floor. Turpin resumed his place behind the desk, his expression unreadable as he returned to his papers.

But as the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed, the moment was far from forgotten.

#alan rickman #alan rickman x reader #judge turpin x reader #judge turpin

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acesofspadess · 3 months ago

Text

Christmas Ribbon 🎄

12 days of Mix-Mas // Day 3

Charles Leclerc x reader

warnings: mild bondage, Charles being terrible at wrapping gifts,

summary: after a walk through the Monaco Christmas Market, Charle bad wrapping skills leave you wrapped up

a/n: my requests are still open during this special so if there is something you want me to write send it!!

The streets of Monaco were aglow with holiday magic, the Christmas market tucked neatly into the heart of the city. Every building and stall seemed draped in sparkling lights, garlands of evergreen, and hints of crimson ribbon. The scent of mulled wine, roasted chestnuts, and sugary confections filled the cool evening air, wrapping the city in a festive charm. Charles’s fingers laced with yours as he led you through the bustling market, his smile impossibly bright and his cheeks tinged pink—from the chill, or maybe from the excitement he clearly felt.

“See? This is the best part of Christmas in Monaco,” he said, gesturing to the glowing Ferris wheel in the distance and the stalls overflowing with trinkets and treats. His voice carried the warmth of the season itself, his accent curling around every word in a way that made your heart melt.

“I can see why you insisted on coming here tonight,” you teased, though you couldn’t deny the charm of it all. It was beautiful, and the twinkle in his eye only made it better.

“Wait here,” Charles said suddenly, steering you toward a bench near a vendor. You watched as he disappeared into the crowd, returning moments later with two steaming cups of mulled wine.

“Here,” he said, handing you one, his gloved fingers brushing against yours.

You took a sip, the warmth spreading through you instantly. “Mmm, this is perfect,” you murmured, glancing up at him.

“The night’s just getting started,” he promised, his grin widening. “And we’re not leaving until you try at least three different pastries. Deal?”

“Deal,” you laughed, letting him lead you to a stall showcasing an array of golden, sugar-dusted delights.

Charles picked out a selection, his enthusiasm contagious. He broke off a piece of a flaky pastry and held it out to you. “Here, try this one.”

You leaned in, taking the bite from his hand. The sweetness melted on your tongue, and you let out a soft hum of approval. “That’s amazing.”

“I told you,” he said smugly, popping a piece into his own mouth.

You wandered the market together, sharing bites of pastries and sneaking kisses whenever you thought no one was looking. Charles stopped to point out decorations he thought you’d like, his excitement growing every time he discovered something new.

“Look,” he said, pulling you toward a small stall selling Santa hats. “Should we get matching ones?”

“We’d look ridiculous,” you replied, trying to stifle a laugh.

“Exactly,” he said, already handing over the money for two hats.

By the time you decided to head home, your stomachs were full, and your cheeks hurt from laughing. Charles kept you close as you walked back to his apartment, the sounds of the city fading into the quiet of the night.

When you stepped inside, the warmth of his home wrapped around you like a blanket. The scent of pine from the Christmas tree mingled with the faint cinnamon aroma lingering from the pastries you’d shared. You kicked off your shoes and spotted a pile of gift-wrapping supplies spread across the table. Charles was already there, rifling through rolls of paper and tangled ribbons, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“You look very serious about this,” you teased, walking over to him.

“Someone has to be,” he shot back with a grin, holding up a roll of wrapping paper adorned with little Santas. “I thought we could wrap the gifts for our families tonight.”

“That’s a lovely idea,” you said, pulling up a chair beside him. “But do you even know how to wrap properly?”

Charles narrowed his eyes at you, mock offense coloring his features. “Of course, I do. I’m a man of many talents.”

“Uh-huh,” you said skeptically, picking up a small gift box. “Let’s see how good you really are.”

You watched as Charles struggled with the paper, his tongue poking out slightly as he tried to cut a straight line. The results were... less than perfect. The edges were jagged, and the tape seemed to be holding the whole thing together by sheer determination.

“Not bad,” you said, trying and failing to keep a straight face. “If you’re going for the ‘child’s first wrapping job’ aesthetic.”

He shot you a playful glare. “All right, miss expert, let’s see you do better.”

You grabbed a roll of ribbon and effortlessly tied it around your box, finishing it off with a neat bow. “Voilà!” you said, presenting your perfectly wrapped gift.

Charles huffed, clearly unimpressed. “Fine, maybe I’m not the best at wrapping gifts. But,” he said, his voice dropping to a lower, teasing tone, “let me show you how I wrap gifts.”

You raised an eyebrow at the sudden shift in his demeanor, a smile tugging at your lips. “Oh? And what exactly does that mean?”

“Come here,” he said, pulling you gently to stand in front of him. “I’ll show you.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine as he guided you to stand, his hands gentle but firm. The ribbon in his hands was soft, its sheen catching the glow of the fairy lights strung across the room. Slowly, deliberately, he began to loop it around your wrists, his movements precise and unhurried.

“You want to tease me about my wrapping skills, but here you are letting me wrap you up.” He teased against you r lips, not yet kissing you.

The ribbon was cool against your skin, but Charles’s hands were warm as he worked, securing your wrists with practiced ease. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, his eyes darkening as they roamed over you.

“You’re the prettiest gift I’ve ever wrapped,” he said, his tone playful but edged with sincerity.

Your body burned, the heat spreading down your neck as you met his intense gaze. He was utterly captivated by the sight before him, his breathing heavier now, his tongue brushing across his bottom lip in a way that made your stomach flip.

“Do you feel that, mon amour?” he asked pulling you against him, his voice velvety, the undertone of dominance sending a shiver through you. “Feel what you do when your tied up for me?”

“Charles...” you breathed, testing the restraint. The ribbon held firm, and your breath hitched at the realization. “Shhh,” he murmured, stepping closer, his hands skimming up your arms to rest on your shoulders. “Let me take in this moment. You teased me earlier, and now it’s my turn.”

His lips brushed against yours, soft at first, before he deepened the kiss with a commanding fervor. The tension in the room crackled like electricity, every sensation heightened by the silk binding your wrists. Charles’s hands wandered, firm yet reverent, tracing your body as if memorizing every curve.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered against your lips, his voice husky. His fingers toyed with the loose end of the ribbon, tightening it slightly, just enough to make you feel the restraint without discomfort. “Seeing you like this, knowing you’re all mine... it’s driving me insane.”

He stepped back slightly, his eyes raking over you, the raw desire in his gaze making your knees weak. “I want to unwrap you so badly,” he confessed, his voice thick with lust, “but not yet. I want to savor this.”

You swallowed hard, your own anticipation building as his hands slid your bottoms down, hands lingering just enough to make your skin tingle. The control he exuded was intoxicating, his every move deliberate, his every word laced with a seductive dominance that left you utterly spellbound.

“Teasing me was a mistake, mon amour,” he said, his lips curving into a wicked smile. “Now, you’re going to learn exactly what happens when you challenge me.” The intensity in his voice sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, and as he leaned in to claim your lips once more.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc series #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x black!reader

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ditzycafe · 15 days ago

Text

🥐 Softening the edges

Summery ; Estella, a kind-hearted bakery owner in the bustling city of Piltover, is known for her sweet confections and even sweeter demeanor. Sevika, hardened from her life in Zaun, comes into Estella’s life under less-than-ideal circumstances. Over time, they form an unlikely bond that leads to something neither of them expected.

Author note ; I hope you guys like this it took foreverrr but I will be posting more I promise and please send ask 🥹🤍

W/C ; 1.7k

The little bakery on the corner of Piltover’s artisan district was a beacon of warmth and light. Estella, the bakery’s owner, embodied its charm—always bright-eyed, smiling, and wearing flour-dusted aprons. Every day, the aroma of fresh bread, cinnamon buns, and lavender scones floated down the street, luring in even the grumpiest customers. But there was one particular customer Estella had yet to win over: Sevika.

Sevika didn’t frequent sweet shops. Her world was one of underground fights and dirty deals, where niceties were a waste of time. However, she had a habit of stopping by Estella’s bakery—not for pastries, but for strong, bitter coffee. She appreciated that Estella didn’t ask questions or push for small talk. Sevika wasn’t the friendliest person, but she wasn’t about to complain about the only place in Piltover that served a decent cup of black coffee without trying to dress it up.

One cold morning, Sevika swung the door open a little too forcefully, setting the bells above it jingling madly. Estella was kneeling behind the counter, picking up a basket of freshly baked rye loaves. Her eyes popped up at the sound.

“Sevika! Good morning!” Estella’s voice was sunshine. She beamed at the towering, scarred woman in front of her.

“Coffee,” Sevika said flatly.

Estella grinned despite the brusque greeting. “I have some ready. Give me just a second!”

She busied herself behind the counter, pouring the dark brew into a clay mug. Steam curled up, bringing with it the rich, roasted scent that Sevika craved. Estella handed it over with care, their fingers brushing briefly. Sevika jerked her hand back as if burned.

“Careful,” Estella said gently. “It’s hot.”

“Yeah.” Sevika didn’t meet her gaze, eyes fixed on the black surface of her coffee. She turned to leave, but something made her hesitate.

Estella noticed. “You okay?”

Sevika froze. “I’m fine. Don’t ask me that.”

Her tone was harsh, but Estella didn’t flinch. Instead, she softened her expression and leaned on the counter. “Okay. But if you ever want to talk, or… need anything, I’m here. No strings attached.”

Sevika stared at her for a long moment. “I don’t do ‘friendly,’ bakery girl.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Estella replied. “Just offering.”

With a grunt, Sevika pushed open the door and disappeared into the street.

Days passed, and Sevika continued to come for her coffee, though she lingered a little longer each time. Estella started to notice the small things—the way Sevika’s shoulders tensed and relaxed depending on the crowd, the glint of something haunted in her eyes. But she never pried.

One evening, just before closing time, Sevika appeared at the door again. This time, she looked… different. Her arm, the one that had been augmented with shimmer-fueled technology, was sparking. Blood dripped from a cut along her cheekbone.

Estella gasped. “Sevika! What happened?”

“None of your business,” Sevika snapped. She staggered inside, breathing heavily. “Just give me the damn coffee.”

“Coffee’s not what you need right now.” Estella stepped around the counter, grabbing a clean towel. She hesitated only for a second before reaching for Sevika’s face.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping,” Estella said simply. “Sit down before you pass out.”

For once, Sevika didn’t argue. She slumped into a chair, scowling but too tired to protest. Estella pressed the towel to the cut, careful not to irritate it further. Her touch was so gentle, Sevika found herself leaning into it without thinking.

“Does this happen a lot?” Estella asked softly.

Sevika huffed. “Occupational hazard.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

“Stop digging.”

Estella nodded. She didn’t push, instead focusing on cleaning the wound and calming Sevika’s sparking arm. When she was done, Sevika felt lighter than she had in weeks.

“Thanks,” Sevika muttered.

“You’re welcome,” Estella replied, smiling.

The next morning, Sevika returned to the bakery. Estella greeted her with the usual smile, but today there was a small box on the counter.

“What’s that?” Sevika asked, eyeing it suspiciously.

“A gift,” Estella said. “Open it.”

Sevika’s first instinct was to refuse, but something in Estella’s expression stopped her. She popped the box open and found a small, perfectly golden pastry inside.

“It’s a honey bun,” Estella explained. “Thought you might like it.”

“I don’t eat sweets.”

“You don’t have to. But it’s here if you want it.”

Sevika carried the box out without another word. Later that night, when no one was watching, she took a bite. It was soft, warm, and tasted like kindness.

The days turned into weeks, and Sevika found herself visiting more often. Estella learned to read her moods—when to chat and when to let silence fill the space. Slowly but surely, Sevika began to open up. Little by little, the bakery became more than just a stop for coffee. It became a safe place.

One rainy evening, Estella was closing up when Sevika knocked on the door. She was soaked to the bone, and her usual gruff demeanor was gone.

“Hey,” Estella said, unlocking the door. “You’re drenched.”

“Yeah.” Sevika stepped inside, water pooling at her feet. “I… didn’t know where else to go.”

Estella’s heart ached at the vulnerability in those words. “You’re always welcome here.”

She fetched a towel and some tea, guiding Sevika to sit by the small fireplace in the corner. For the first time, Sevika let herself relax completely.

“You’re too good, you know that?” Sevika said quietly.

“I just care,” Estella replied. “About people. About you.”

Sevika looked up, meeting Estella’s gaze fully. “I don’t deserve it.”

“That’s not for you to decide.”

Something shifted between them then—a fragile, unspoken understanding. Sevika reached for Estella’s hand, and Estella didn’t pull away.

For the first time in a long time, Sevika felt like she belonged.

The days following that rainy evening felt different. Sevika still grumbled and glared at anyone who looked at her the wrong way, but Estella noticed something new—she lingered longer, softened more easily, and even gave small, grateful smiles when no one else was watching.

One afternoon, Estella had just finished arranging a tray of berry tarts when the bell over the bakery door rang. She turned, expecting the usual sight of Sevika in her thick coat. But instead, Sevika was standing there, looking unusually uncertain. In her hands was something wrapped in crumpled brown paper.

“What’s this?” Estella asked, stepping closer.

Sevika cleared her throat, looking everywhere but at Estella. “You’re always giving me stuff. Thought it was… time I returned the favor.”

Estella’s heart skipped a beat as she gently took the package and unwrapped it. Inside was a small, intricately carved wooden flower—a lotus, to be exact. Its petals were smooth and delicate, with a faint shimmer of varnish.

“It’s beautiful,” Estella whispered, tracing the edges.

“Not really,” Sevika said, her voice gruff. “It’s just… something I made when I had downtime.”

“It’s perfect,” Estella insisted. She set the carving on the counter and took Sevika’s hand without thinking. “Thank you.”

For a long, quiet moment, Sevika didn’t pull away.

But life in Piltover and Zaun was never simple, and peace never lasted long.

Late one evening, Sevika arrived at the bakery, breathless and tense. “Estella,” she said urgently. “You need to close up. Now.”

Estella blinked, confused by Sevika’s sharp tone. “Why? What’s going on?”

“There’s trouble,” Sevika growled. “Some old enemies of mine are looking for leverage. If they find out you’re—” She stopped herself, jaw tightening.

“If they find out I’m what?” Estella asked, stepping closer.

Sevika swallowed hard. “Important to me.”

Estella’s eyes softened, but there was no time for tenderness. Outside, the sound of heavy boots echoed down the street.

“Back room,” Sevika ordered. “Now.”

Estella obeyed without question, ducking behind the storage door. Sevika turned to face the entrance just as a group of thugs burst in. They were scarred, dirty, and armed with brass knuckles and jagged blades.

“Well, well,” the leader sneered. “If it isn’t Sevika. Heard you’ve gone soft.”

Sevika cracked her knuckles. “You’re about to find out just how soft I am.”

The fight was brutal but quick. Sevika moved with the precision of someone who had fought a thousand battles. In mere minutes, the thugs were sprawled on the bakery floor, groaning in pain. Sevika wiped blood from the corner of her mouth and turned to the back room.

“It’s over,” she called.

Estella rushed out, her eyes wide with worry. “Sevika—your arm—”

“It’s nothing,” Sevika muttered.

“It’s not nothing.” Estella grabbed a first-aid kit and started tending to the bruises and cuts. Her hands trembled slightly as she worked.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” Sevika said softly.

“I choose to.” Estella met her gaze, her expression fierce and unwavering. “I care about you, Sevika. I’m not going anywhere.”

Something inside Sevika cracked—something she had kept locked away for years. Without thinking, she cupped Estella’s face with her good hand.

“I don’t deserve you,” Sevika whispered.

“Yes, you do,” Estella said firmly. “More than anyone I know.”

And before Sevika could argue, Estella leaned in and kissed her—soft, sweet, and full of everything Sevika had been afraid to hope for.

The next morning, the bakery felt lighter. Estella hummed as she kneaded dough, and Sevika sat at her usual table with a steaming mug of coffee. The sunlight streamed through the windows, warming the space and casting golden light across the floor.

For the first time, Sevika felt at peace.

“You’re happy,” Estella said, noticing the change in Sevika’s expression.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Sevika grumbled, but there was no edge to her voice.

Estella laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

They spent the day together, Estella teaching Sevika how to make pastries despite Sevika’s insistence that “baking is for soft people.” By the end of the lesson, flour coated both of them, and Sevika’s scowl had turned into something dangerously close to a smile.

As the day faded into evening, Estella wrapped her arms around Sevika from behind.

“Stay for dinner?” Estella asked.

Sevika turned, resting her forehead against Estella’s. “I’m not used to this.”

“I know,” Estella said softly. “But we’ll figure it out together.”

Sevika kissed her again, slow and tender. And for the first time in a long, long while, she believed that maybe—just maybe—there was a future worth fighting for.

The end..

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whatisthisdrea · 3 days ago

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[EMPEROR] Kelvin harrison jr. fic

Y/N falls for a charming man she believes to be ordinary. But when she learns he's the emperor, her world is turned upside down. Torn between love and duty, she must navigate the complexities of a romance that seems destined for the grandest of courts.

The cool evening air was heavy with the scent of blooming wisteria and freshly baked bread, remnants of the day’s labor at the bakery. Y/N pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, her breath quickened—not from the chill, but from anticipation. She was meeting him again.

Kelvin.

The man who had, in the span of weeks, unraveled her carefully ordered world with his smoldering gazes and wickedly charming smile. At first, it had been mere glances and pleasantries exchanged over warm loaves of bread. Then, he had begun lingering, conversing, making her laugh in a way that felt like sunlight spilling through the cracks of her carefully guarded heart.

And now, she was sneaking out to see him. It was reckless, foolish even, but she could not resist the pull of him, the way his voice wove around her like velvet.

She did not have to wait long. The familiar figure emerged from the shadows of the village square. His sharp brown eyes locked onto her with an intensity that made her breath catch.

“You should not be out here alone,” he murmured, his voice a deep, measured cadence that sent a shiver down her spine.

“You asked me to meet you,” she countered, trying to steady herself against his overwhelming presence.

He stepped closer, his hand brushing against her wrist before curling around it with a gentle but unyielding grip. “And if I had not, would you still have come?”

She swallowed, unable to form a proper reply. The truth was, she would have. There was something about him, something dangerous and compelling, that made resistance seem laughable.

He exhaled sharply, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles against the inside of her wrist. “You drive me mad, Y/N.” His voice was laced with something raw and unguarded

“There is a festival tonight,” he said, his tone shifting, though his grip on her remained firm. “I would have you accompany me.”

She hesitated. “Kelvin, you know I cannot—”

“Ah, but you will.” His fingers tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You have spent too long doing as you ought. Tonight, do as you wish.”

And heavens help her, she wished for him.

She nodded, a decision that felt like a leap into the unknown, and he smiled—a slow, knowing thing that sent warmth pooling in her stomach. Without another word, he led her toward the festival, his grip unwavering, his pace set with purpose.

The village square was alive with glowing lanterns, laughter, and the tantalizing aroma of roasted chestnuts and sweet confections. Kelvin guided her through the bustling market, his hand never leaving hers as he bought her whatever her heart desired—fresh honey cakes, delicate silk ribbons, and a tiny silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon.

“Kelvin, you spoil me too much,” Y/N giggled, cradling a bouquet of wildflowers he had just purchased for her.

Kelvin only smiled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Anything for the love of my life,” he murmured, his voice rich with affection.

Her heart swelled at his words, a warmth spreading through her chest that had nothing to do with the festive lights or the bustling crowd. She had never felt so cherished, so entirely his.

As they strolled beneath the lanterns, Y/N tilted her head in curiosity. “I never asked you before, but where are you from? You sound like you were raised in a village.”

Kelvin hesitated for a fraction of a second before offering a casual shrug. “My family is... somewhat wealthy.”

As the night deepened, they found themselves near a grand stone fountain, the gentle trickle of water filling the comfortable silence between them. The stars shimmered overhead, casting their silver glow upon Y/N’s face as she gazed up at the sky in wonder. Kelvin, however, only had eyes for her.

“Y/N,” he muttered, his voice hushed but full of meaning.

She turned toward him, her cheeks warming under his intense gaze. His eyes held something deeper than admiration, something that made her breath catch. “Yes?” she whispered, barely audible over the distant festival music.

Kelvin stepped closer, lifting a hand to trace an idle line down her arm, sending shivers racing over her skin. “May I kiss you?” he asked, his voice low, reverent, as if the very idea of her was sacred.

Y/N’s heart pounded, her pulse roaring in her ears. Slowly, she nodded.

That was all the permission he needed. Kelvin closed the distance between them, his hands cradling her face as he pressed his lips to hers, slow and deliberate, as if savoring every second. The world around them faded, leaving only the quiet murmur of water, the whisper of the wind, and the intoxicating warmth of his embrace.

Tonight, under the lantern-lit sky, among the sounds of laughter and music, she would learn precisely what it meant to be wanted by a man like Kelvin.

And she would never be the same again.

As they pulled apart, Kelvin exhaled, his forehead resting against hers. A moment passed, the world hushed and reverent around them. Then, with a quiet certainty, he whispered, “Marry me.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her eyes widening as she took a step back, shock rippling through her. “Kelvin... I—”

He caught her hand before she could retreat further, his grip gentle yet firm. “I love you, Y/N. More than reason, more than duty, more than my own name. Say you will be mine.”

Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, her mind spinning as she gazed at the man before her—the man she adored, the man she knew... and yet, somehow, did not know at all.

“Yes,” she said, shocking even herself.

The next thing Y/N knew, Kelvin's hand was on the church door, his knuckles rapping against the wood with a confidence that made her heart flutter. The quiet night echoed with the sound, a stark contrast to the festival's distant din. She watched him, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling within her, as he called out to the priest, his voice urgent yet respectful.

The priest emerged from his quaint cottage, his eyes widening when he recognized Kelvin. He was an older man with a gentle face, his eyes crinkling with surprise and curiosity as he took in their entwined hands and the bouquet of wildflowers she clutched. "Is there an emergency?" he inquired, his voice calm yet concerned.

Kelvin stepped forward, his gaze unwavering. "Yes, we would like to be married," he said firmly, cutting through the priest's confusion with the decisiveness of a knife through warm butter. The priest opened his mouth to protest, to remind them of the late hour and the proper procedures, but Kelvin's pleading eyes and the urgent grip on Y/N's hand spoke volumes.

"Please," Kelvin added, his voice a soft yet commanding whisper that seemed to carry the weight of his very soul. "We wish to be married tonight."

The priest studied them, his gaze lingering on their intertwined hands, the bouquet, and the unspoken desperation in their eyes. He nodded, his expression a blend of surprise and understanding. "Very well," he said, his voice resigned. "Give me five minutes to prepare the documents." He stepped back into his cottage, leaving them alone in the moonlit courtyard.

The air was thick with anticipation as they waited. Kelvin squeezed her hand reassuringly, his thumb stroking the back of her hand in a silent promise. Y/N felt a mix of excitement and fear. Was she really about to marry a man she knew so little about? A man whose true identity could shatter her world? Yet, as she looked into his eyes, she found an anchor in his love.

Moments later, the priest emerged from the cottage, a leather-bound book in his hands. He cleared his throat and began to recite the sacred vows, his voice steady and solemn. Kelvin and Y/N faced each other, their eyes locked as they made their promises—to love, to cherish, to be each other's confidant and protector, till death did them part.

The priest's words wove around them like a warm embrace, binding their hearts together with every syllable. Y/N felt a tear slip down her cheek as she whispered her vows, her voice trembling with the gravity of her commitment. Kelvin's eyes never left hers, his expression one of pure adoration as he repeated the ancient pledge.

The moment the priest declared them husband and wife, Kelvin's hand slipped to the small of her back, drawing her closer. He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin, and claimed her mouth once more in a kiss that was both fiery and tender. The world spun around them, the stars above seeming to wink in approval. The kiss lingered, a silent declaration of love that transcended the need for words.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Kelvin's neck, her fingers threading through his dark hair, as if she could hold on to this moment forever. His kiss was everything she had dreamed of and more, a promise of passion and protection that made her feel both vulnerable and invincible. Her eyes fluttered closed, her body melding against his as if they had been two halves of a whole finally reunited.

But as the priest cleared his throat, they pulled away, the warmth of their embrace dissipating like mist in the morning sun. "Alright, take this somewhere else, please," he said gently, his voice a gentle reminder of their sacred space.

With a final, lingering look at the priest, Kelvin led her by the hand to his waiting horse, a sleek stallion with a midnight coat that matched the dark of his eyes. He helped her up with surprising ease, his arms strong and sure around her waist as she settled into the saddle. He mounted behind her, his body fitting perfectly against hers, his arms wrapping around her protectively as he took the reins.

The horse's hooves beat a rhythm on the cobblestone streets as they rode away from the church, the sound echoing through the quiet night. Y/N could feel Kelvin's heart racing against her back, the same erratic beat echoing in her chest. She clung to him, her arms tight around his waist, the wind in her hair as they galloped through the moonlit streets of the village.

The house Kelvin took her to was not what she had expected. It was a small, modest cottage on the outskirts of town, surrounded by a wild, untamed garden. The ivy climbed the walls, and the windows were shuttered, giving the place an air of secrecy. He helped her down from the horse, his touch lingering as their eyes met in the soft glow of the moon.

Suddenly, Kelvin swept her into his arms, his mouth finding hers in a kiss that was more urgent than before. Y/N felt herself melting into him, her body responding to his touch as if it had been waiting for this moment all her life. He carried her over the threshold of the cottage, his kiss deepening as they stumbled through the door.

They didn’t even make it to the bedroom. Kelvin paused in the candlelit kitchen, the flickering light casting shadows across his face. He set her down on the wooden table, the roughness of the surface a stark contrast to the softness of his kisses. His hands roamed her body, his touch setting her skin alight, as he kissed her neck, his lips trailing a fiery path along her collarbone.

Y/N’s heart thundered in her ears, her nerves a tapestry of anticipation and fear. This was uncharted territory for her, a dance she had only ever dreamed of. She felt the heat of his hand as it traveled up her leg, the fabric of her dress bunching around her thighs. Her eyes grew wide, her breath hitching as she realized the gravity of what was happening.

“Kelvin,” she murmured, her voice a tremble as she reached up to grasp his face, her fingertips tracing the contours of his jaw. His eyes searched hers, a silent question in their depths. She could feel his restraint, the way his body tensed as if holding back a storm.

“I’ve never done this before,” she confessed, her cheeks flushing with heat as she bit her bottom lip. She had never been with a man, had never allowed anyone to touch her so intimately.

Kelvin’s expression softened, his gaze filled with a gentle reassurance that made her heart skip a beat. “I will teach you,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to her nerves. He dropped to his knees, the fabric of his trousers whispering against the floorboards. His eyes never left hers as his hands found the fastenings of her dress, deftly working them open.

Y/N felt a warm rush of air as her legs were exposed to the cool night, the fabric of her undergarments parted. Her legs trembled slightly as Kelvin’s strong, calloused hands slid up her thighs, his touch a gentle caress that made her skin tingle. She took a deep breath, her heart racing, as she felt him spread her legs wider, his gaze never leaving hers.

He took a moment, simply looking, his expression one of reverence as he studied the delicate folds of her sex. “So pretty,” he murmured, his voice a low, gruff rumble that sent a thrill through her core. His thumbs brushed lightly against her inner thighs, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of her arousal, a silent confession that she was just as eager as he was.

Y/N’s cheeks burned as she felt the weight of his gaze upon her most intimate place. It was strange, feeling so exposed, so vulnerable, and yet, there was something incredibly intimate about it. She bit her lip, her body responding to his touch, her legs trembling slightly as she awaited his next move.

Suddenly, Kelvin’s mouth was on her, his tongue flicking against her sensitive folds, and she gasped, arching her back as the sensation washed over her. He kissed her pussy with a hunger that was both thrilling and overwhelming, his hands gripping her thighs firmly to hold her in place as he explored her with tender precision.

Y/N’s moans grew louder as he began to lick her in long, slow strokes, his tongue delving deep, tasting her, savoring her sweetness. His mouth was warm and soft. Each pass of his tongue sent waves of pleasure crashing through her, her body responding with an intensity she had never before experienced.

Kelvin’s hands tightened on her thighs as he grew more insistent, his tongue swirling around her clit, his suction gentle yet firm. Y/N’s legs began to quiver uncontrollably, her breath hitching as she felt the beginnings of a crescendo building within her. His eyes remained locked on hers, his own filled with a fiery desire that only served to spur her on.

The first trickle of her arousal slipped down her thigh, and Kelvin groaned against her, his mouth moving faster, his tongue swirling in a way that had her entire body tightening with need. He loved the way she tasted, the way her juices painted his face, marking him as her own. It was a claiming, a declaration of his ownership of her body, and he reveled in it.

“Kelvin, I think—I think I have to pee,” Y/N managed to gasp out, her eyes fluttering shut as the sensations grew more intense. But Kelvin knew better. He recognized the signs of her approaching climax, the way she tightened around his mouth, the sweet, tangy scent of her arousal. He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through her, his tongue pressing harder against her swollen clit.

“No, my love, it’s not that,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. He knew she was unaccustomed to the feeling, the urgent need that built within her, begging for release. He felt her pulse quicken under his touch, her body quivering as she neared the edge. “Let it come,” he encouraged, his voice a gentle coax.

And come it did. Y/N’s climax washed over her like a wave, her body spasming as she cried out his name. Kelvin’s mouth never left her, his tongue lapping greedily at the sweet nectar that filled his mouth. He savored her taste, her cries of pleasure echoing through the cottage like a symphony to his ears. It was intoxicating, the power of giving her such bliss, and he felt his desire swell, his cock straining against the fabric of his breeches.

But he wasn’t finished with her yet. He stood, pulling her down from the table, her legs shaky beneath her. He scooped her up again, carrying her to the bedroom as if she weighed no more than a feather. He laid her gently on the soft, inviting bed, his gaze raking over her body with a hunger that left her trembling. He removed his shirt with swift, efficient movements, his eyes never leaving hers.

And then, with a sudden fierceness that took her breath away, he ripped her dress open. The fabric gave way with a soft tear, the cool air kissing her skin. Y/N gasped, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of him—his bare chest, the muscles rippling as he moved, the tension in his jaw as he took in the sight of her. Kelvin’s gaze fell to her breasts, swollen and exposed, the tips pebbled with desire.

With a low growl, he reached for one, his hand cupping the soft mound with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down her spine. His thumb brushed her nipple, and she gasped, arching into his touch. The sensation was exquisite, a delicate balance of pain and pleasure that made her toes curl. He watched her reaction, his eyes dark with need, his own arousal evident in the bulge pressing against his breeches.

Without warning, Kelvin bent his head and took one of her nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking and teasing the sensitive peak. Y/N's eyes flew open, a sharp gasp escaping her as she felt his teeth graze her tender flesh. His other hand trailed down her body, finding her other breast, his fingers playing with the neglected nipple in a symphony of sensation. Each tug and roll sent jolts of electricity straight to her core, making her wetter, more desperate for his touch.

With a sudden, almost feral sound, he released her tit with a pop, leaving it glistening with his saliva. His eyes searched hers, dark with a hunger that made her heart race. Without a word, he leaned down, his lips crashing against hers, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth. She tasted herself on him, and the eroticism of it made her legs quiver. His kiss was demanding, possessive, his hands roaming her body as if he could never get enough.

And then, as if the anticipation had become too much to bear, he pulled back, panting heavily. Sitting up on his knees, he reached for the laces of his pants, his eyes never leaving hers. The fabric fell away, revealing the thick, hard length of his cock. Y/N’s eyes widened, her cheeks flushing as she took in the sheer size of him. It was a beautiful monster, jutting out from a thatch of dark hair, the tip glistening with precum.

“Kelvin... will that fit?” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. His smile was wicked as he leaned over her, his cock brushing against her inner thigh.

“Perfectly, my love,” he assured her, his voice a low, seductive purr. He took himself in hand, stroking the length of his shaft with a practiced ease that sent a fresh wave of desire through her.

With a gentle touch, Kelvin coated the tip with her slickness, her juices making it glisten in the candlelight. He hovered over her, the head of his cock nudging at her entrance, his expression one of pure, unbridled lust.

"Alright, baby," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm as he began to push in, inch by agonizing inch. Y/N bit her lip, her eyes squeezed shut as she felt herself stretching to accommodate his size. The pain was sharp, a stark contrast to the pleasure that had come before, but she trusted him. She had to.

He groaned as he felt her tightness envelop him, her warmth surrounding him in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating. He had never been so close to someone, had never felt so connected. He paused, his cock buried to the hilt, allowing her to adjust to his invasion. Her walls quivered around him, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

“You’re so tight, so perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. He waited, his muscles taut with restraint, until she gave a tiny nod. Only then did he begin to move, his hips rocking back and forth in a slow, steady rhythm that had her clutching the bedcovers.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Kelvin’s intense gaze. She watched as he pushed into her, his eyes never leaving hers, his expression one of pure, unbridled passion. Each stroke was a declaration of his love, his need for her. “Look at me,” he rasped, his voice thick with need. “Let me see your eyes when I claim you, my love.”

Her eyes locked onto his, her pupils dilating with each powerful thrust. He filled her, his cock stretching her until she thought she could take no more. Yet, with each movement, she grew wetter, the pain morphing into something darker, more primal. Her body was his, a vessel for his pleasure, and she reveled in the power she had over him, the way his eyes blazed with desire and love.

“Oh yes, you see how good this pretty pussy is taking me,” Kelvin growled, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his climax. His words were a declaration, a raw, carnal truth that resonated through her core. He loved her, and he wasn’t afraid to show it, wasn’t afraid to claim her in this most intimate of ways.

With a sudden jolt, Kelvin pulled out almost completely before slamming back in, the sound of their bodies colliding a symphony of passion in the quiet room. Y/N’s eyes rolled back in her head, her moans echoing off the walls as she clung to the bed, her legs trembling. His strokes grew more demanding, his hips pistoning in a rhythm that had her entire body shaking.

“Ah, ah, open those legs for me, you little temptress,” Kelvin growled, his eyes burning with a wild need. He leaned back, placing one hand firmly on her thigh, holding it wide open as he thrust deep inside her again. The new angle made her gasp, his cock hitting a spot that sent shockwaves through her. She could feel him fill her completely, the thickness of him stretching her to the brink of pain, only to be overwhelmed by the intense pleasure that followed.

Y/N’s nails dug into the bedcovers, her eyes never leaving Kelvin’s as he held her thigh open, his other hand braced against the bed. His movements grew more urgent, his hips snapping against her with a force that had the headboard knocking against the wall. The room grew hazy with the scent of their passion, the candlelight flickering across his sweat-slicked skin. Each stroke was a declaration of his ownership, his claim on her body and soul.

“You look so pretty, darling,” Kelvin murmured, his eyes dark and hungry as they locked onto hers. The words were a gentle caress, a stark contrast to the fierce, almost brutal way he was taking her. She felt a strange thrill at his words, the raw, unfiltered need in his voice. He leaned down, capturing one of her nipples in his mouth again, suckling her breast with an intensity that had her hips bucking against him. The pleasure was intense, a maelstrom of sensation that threatened to consume her.

Y/N felt her body tightening around him, her inner walls clenching to hold him closer. She didn’t know what was happening to her, only that she never wanted it to end. Kelvin’s eyes snapped open, his gaze fierce as he felt her climax building. “Come for me, baby,” he grunted, his hips driving into her with a ferocity that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Her eyes grew wide as she felt the pressure build, a coil tightening in her stomach that sent her hurtling over the edge. Kelvin watched her face, his own expression one of pure, unbridled ecstasy as she screamed out her release, her body shaking beneath his. He could feel her pussy pulsing around his cock, milking him, drawing him closer to his own peak.

With a roar, Kelvin’s hips stuttered, and he pulled out of her, his cock pulsing with the force of his climax. He painted her belly and breasts with his seed, each spurt hot and thick. “You’re mine now, Y/N, in every way,” he grunted, his voice hoarse with passion.

Her chest heaving, Y/N could only nod, her eyes glazed over with pleasure. The words had barely left her lips when Kelvin leaned down, capturing her mouth in a bruising kiss, claiming her once more. His taste lingered on her tongue, a mix of her own arousal and his desire, and she reveled in the intimacy of it.

Their bodies were a tangle of limbs and sweat-dampened skin as Kelvin rolled them over, her legs still wrapped around his waist. He broke the kiss to nip at her neck, his teeth grazing the tender flesh, making her gasp. His hips continued to move, his cock still hard and insistent inside her, as if he couldn’t get enough.

Y/N felt a sudden jolt of panic at the sound of banging on the cottage door. It was still dark outside, the candles flickering low. “Kelvin, wake up,” she whispered urgently, her voice a breathless caress against his ear.

Kelvin’s arms tightened around her, and she could feel the tension in his body as he stirred from sleep. His eyes snapped open, and he looked at her with a mix of concern and confusion. “Someone’s here,” she murmured, her heart hammering in her chest.

With a low curse, Kelvin rolled off her, his cock slipping out with a wet sound that seemed obscenely loud in the quiet room. He grabbed his discarded shirt and hastily pulled it on, his movements swift and sure despite the sleep haze. Y/N watched him, feeling vulnerable and exposed as she lay there, naked and trembling. The banging grew louder, more insistent, and Kelvin moved to the window, peering out into the predawn gloom.

“Dammit,” he growled under his breath, his jaw tightening. He turned to Y/N, his expression unreadable. “Stay right here,” he ordered, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.

Her eyes searched his, a question in their depths, but Kelvin had already moved to the bedroom door, pulling it shut behind him with a firm click. The sound of his bare feet on the wooden floor grew distant as he approached the cottage door, the urgent banging echoing through the small space.

But did Y/N listen? No. She got up, her legs shaky, and wrapped the corner of the bedsheet around her. Moving closer to the door, she pressed her ear against the aged wood, straining to make out the muffled voices beyond. Her heart raced—what had she gotten herself into?

The words grew clearer as the volume increased. “Your majesty, please come back to the palace!”

Y/N’s heart stopped. Her majesty? The realization hit her like a sledgehammer. Kelvin was not just a charming, mysterious man from a wealthy family—he was a king in disguise. Her mind reeled with the implications. The gentle touches, the tender kisses, the way he had made love to her as if she were the only woman in the world...it all made sense now.

Was she just some quick fuck? The thought brought tears to her eyes. Had she been a mere escape for him, a dalliance in the arms of a commoner to relieve the boredom of royalty? The pain of doubt washed over her, and she clutched the sheet closer to her trembling body.

The shout grew louder, the man's voice tinged with disbelief and anger. "You did what, you married a woman? You're the Emperor! You can't just marry a commoner!"

Kelvin's shoulders squared, his jaw tightening. "I'm in love " he said calmly, turning to face the furious figure in the doorway. "Y/N is my heart's desire, and I won't be parted from her."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she peeked through the crack in the bedroom door. The man who had found them was one of Kelvin's guards, his face flushed with outrage. "You can't do this, your highness," he spat. "Your duty is to the empire, not to some peasant girl!"

"Watch your fucking mouth when you talk about my lady," Kelvin growled, his eyes flashing with a feral intensity she had never seen before. His voice was low and deadly, a stark contrast to the gentle whispers of moments ago. The guard took a step back, visibly intimidated.

Y/N stepped out of the bedroom, her heart racing. "Kelvin," she called out softly, the tremor in her voice betraying her fear. She didn't know what to expect, but she knew she had to face this with him.

Kelvin turned to her, his expression a storm of emotions—love, anger, and regret. He took a step toward her, his eyes searching hers. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice thick with concern. "You should have stayed in bed."

But she could not look away from the guard, the reality of Kelvin's words crashing over her. "Is it true?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You're...a king?"

Kelvin nodded, his gaze never leaving hers, his expression filled with a sadness that made her want to weep. "I'm an emperor," he corrected, the weight of his admission heavy in the room.

Y/N felt the blood drain from her face, her knees threatening to give out beneath her. The sheet fell away, forgotten, as she clutched at the doorframe for support. "An...emperor?" she managed to choke out, her voice barely a whisper.

Kelvin took a step toward her, his expression one of profound regret. "Y/N, let me explain," he began, reaching out a hand.

But she stopped him, her own hand shooting up in a firm, unmistakable gesture. "You lied to me!" she sobbed, the pain in her voice a knife to his soul.

He stepped back, his arms dropping to his sides. "Y/N, no, it wasn't like that—"

"Then what was it?" she demanded, her voice trembling. "Was I just some common whore for you to use and discard?"

Kelvin's eyes flashed with anger at her accusation, but he quickly composed himself. "Never," he whispered, his voice a soft caress against the storm of her rage. "You are my wife, my love, the woman who holds my heart."

Y/N looked at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Then why did you lie to me?" she repeated, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.

Kelvin's gaze searched hers, the regret in his eyes palpable. "I didn't lie to deceive you," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "I wanted you to know me for who I am, not what I am."

Y/N stepped back, the cool air of the cottage hitting her bare skin like a slap. She wrapped the sheet around her tightly, her eyes never leaving Kelvin's. "But you are an emperor," she whispered, the weight of his admission sinking in. "You have duties, responsibilities..."

"And I will fulfill them," he said firmly, taking another step toward her. "But not at the cost of us." His hand reached out, thumb brushing away the solitary tear that rolled down her cheek. "I love you, and nothing is going to change that."

Y/N's breath hitched as she looked at him, torn between anger and the love that still burned brightly within her. The guard's voice intruded again, his tone pleading. "Your majesty, this is madness."

"Shut the fuck up," Kelvin barked, his voice a thunderclap that made the guard's eyes widen in shock. The room grew still, the only sound the crackling of the dying embers in the fireplace.

He turned back to Y/N, his expression softening. "Listen, baby," he began, his voice a low, soothing murmur that seemed to wrap around her like a warm blanket. "I knew it was a matter of time before they found me."

Y/N gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as the implications of his words hit her like a wave. "What...what does that mean?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"It means, my love," Kelvin said, his voice firm and unwavering, "that I have to return to the palace. And when I do, you will be by my side, as my empress."

The guard's jaw dropped, his eyes darting between Kelvin and Y/N in astonishment. "Your...empress?" he stuttered, his disbelief palpable.

Y/N felt the world spin around her. An empress? The thought was ludicrous, a fairy tale she had never dared to believe in. Yet, here she was, standing before the man she had just shared the most intimate act with, and he was speaking as if it were destiny

Her knees buckled, and she felt the darkness creep in at the edges of her vision. She reached out, her hand grabbing for something—anything—to hold on to. But there was nothing.

And then, strong arms were around her, catching her, cradling her against a warm, solid chest. She knew it was Kelvin, even as her eyes fluttered closed, the last thing she heard being his sharp intake of breath as he realized she had fainted.

“Ready the horses, Castor,” Kelvin said, his voice firm. He didn’t look away from Y/N’s pale face, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

#kelvin harrison jr.#kelvin harrison jr. x black oc #kelvin harrison jr. fic #Kelvin Harrison Jr. smut

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aventurineswife · 7 days ago

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Hiii I have a request for childhood friends to lovers with Aventurine (slow burn)

Aventurine has feelings for reader but they're too oblivious to what Aventurine has been hinting at, Aventurine starts to feel like reader was just avoiding it but really reader just doesn't really see it. Not until someone (any character) tries to persuade reader. Aventurine starts to become a little bit possessive nothing too extreme, Aventurine just doesn't want anyone to get reader first before him.

Aventurine starts to take reader out on a date, nothing to fancy since he knew it's not reader taste to eat somewhere fancy so he took reader to the sweet bakery they used to go to and that's because reader is a sweet tooth and loves to buy it every time. Since it's taking too long for reader to notice he just confesses his feelings to reader, reader genuinely doesn't know but they also have feelings for him too, they always thought that he's too good for them.

The end is just a bit slightly suggestive if not just them cuddle together on the sofa or bed. (reader could be male, if not keep it gender natural)

Chance or Fate?

Summary: Aventurine has long harbored feelings for his childhood friend aka you, but his subtle hints have gone unnoticed. When one of his colleague starts showing interest in you, Aventurine feels a possessive urge to finally confess his emotions. Taking you to a familiar bakery, he opens up about his feelings, and you realize that you've always felt the same, but never thought you were worthy of someone like him.

Tags: Aventurine x GN!Reader, Slow burn, Childhood friends to lovers, Confession of feelings, Romantic tension, Fluff, Emotional vulnerability, Possessive but not extreme, Bakery date.

Warnings: Slight possessiveness (not extreme), Minor emotional angst, Light suggestiveness (in the form of cuddling).

The sweet scent of pastries filled the air as you walked beside Aventurine, the soft rustling of your footsteps mixing with his quiet, almost nervous hum. It had been a while since the two of you visited this bakery, a place from your childhood where sweet memories lingered. You smiled as the familiar bell above the door jingled when you entered, and you could hear the gentle murmur of the baker behind the counter.

"You still come here?" you teased, glancing at him with a smile. "I thought you'd have moved on to something more... extravagant by now."

Aventurine's lips quirked upward, his usual charismatic smile hidden beneath his carefully maintained charm. He was dressed as impeccably as ever, yet there was a slight edge to his posture, a rare vulnerability you only ever saw when you were alone with him.

"This place has a certain... charm," he replied, his tone smooth, almost too smooth. He didn’t meet your gaze, instead focusing on the rows of sweets laid out before you both. His eyes flicked to the candy jars, where colorful confections glistened. “And, besides... I haven’t seen you indulge in your sweet tooth in quite a while.”

You grinned, knowing exactly what he was referring to. It was a harmless habit, one you’d never outgrown. The bakery’s chocolate éclairs (you can change this, if those aren't your favourites) had always been your favorite, a small indulgence in your otherwise busy life.

“You know me too well,” you said, your voice light.

As you picked out a box of éclairs, you could sense Aventurine’s eyes on you, watching you carefully. He always did, even when it seemed like nothing was amiss. He was never far, always just a step behind—observing, studying, but never quite opening up. Yet you could feel it now, a tension that had been growing between you for what felt like an eternity.

You both walked back to his quarters after the simple yet cozy trip, the evening air crisp and cool, perfect for a walk. It had always been this way with Aventurine—easy, familiar, and yet... you could never fully pinpoint what was always bubbling beneath the surface of your relationship. The hints, the moments, they were always there. But you were oblivious.

You settled down on the couch, the warmth of the evening still lingering in the air as Aventurine sat beside you, his gaze distant for a moment before he reached for the box of éclairs, his fingers brushing against yours. A simple touch, yet something about it felt heavy.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You both ate in comfortable silence, enjoying the pastries, but there was an undeniable shift in the atmosphere. His eyes lingered on you longer than usual, his smile tighter, less confident.

"Did you ever think about... us, as more than friends?" Aventurine's voice broke the silence, startling you. His words hung in the air like a delicate web of tension, making your heart skip a beat.

You blinked, confused. "What do you mean?" you asked, not realizing how far he was trying to hint at. You had always assumed Aventurine was too perfect, too confident for someone like you to even consider in that way.

Aventurine hesitated, his expression faltering for the briefest moment, before his usual charming mask returned. He leaned back on the sofa, crossing his arms as if to create distance. His voice was more casual now, though there was an underlying layer of vulnerability, a raw honesty you hadn't heard from him before.

"You know, I've been trying to show you... something," he said with a half-smile. "But you're so oblivious to it, it's almost like you're avoiding it."

You frowned, still lost in the haze of your own ignorance. “Avoiding it? What are you talking about, Vasha?”

For a split second, his expression hardened, a flicker of frustration passing through his eyes. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that same calm, confident demeanor. He seemed to withdraw for a moment before sighing softly.

"Let me be clear then," he said, leaning closer, his tone earnest. "I care about you. In a way that's more than just... this," he gestured between the two of you, his eyes fixed on yours. "I’ve always cared. And it’s been... hard, to watch you not realize it. To see you brush it off. Because I can't stand the thought of someone else getting to you before I do."

Your heart skipped a beat as you processed his words. "Kakavasha, I... I didn’t know. I thought—"

"I know," he interrupted gently, his gaze softening. "I know you didn't know. And I should've been clearer sooner. But you always seemed so... out of my league, you know? You’ve always been so kind and wonderful. And I..." He trailed off, rubbing his fingers against his choker, a nervous habit you noticed whenever he was conflicted. "I never thought you'd feel the same."

The realization hit you like a wave, and for the first time in years, your mind cleared. You had always thought of Aventurine as someone out of your reach, someone too perfect, too composed. You were just a simple person, lost in your own world. But here he was, confessing his feelings with a rare sincerity.

"Kakavasha, I..." Your voice faltered. "I think I always felt the same. I just... I didn’t know how to say it. I thought you were too good for me."

He smiled softly, but there was a glimmer of relief in his eyes, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "I’ve been gambling on this for a long time, you know?" he said, his voice low, teasing. "Guess I finally won."

You chuckled lightly, feeling the tension melt away. Aventurine’s smile grew wider as he leaned back on the couch, making room for you to move closer.

“Guess we’ll take it one step at a time, won’t we?” he said, his voice soft, more vulnerable than usual.

You nodded, letting yourself relax in his presence as you shifted closer. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you gently into his side. The two of you sat there, the comforting warmth of his embrace lulling you into a peaceful silence.

The night stretched on, the gentle sound of your breathing mixing with the quiet hum of the room, and for the first time, you let yourself feel the connection you had both ignored for so long.

As Aventurine’s fingers brushed your hair back, his eyes met yours with a quiet promise. "You don’t have to worry about being out of my league," he whispered. "We’re in this together now."

And as he pulled you into his arms, everything felt right, like the pieces of a long-forgotten puzzle falling into place. The world outside faded away, and for once, Aventurine let go of his perfect mask, simply allowing himself to hold you, to love you in his own quiet way.

And you let him.

#x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #slow burn #childhood friends to lovers #fluff #confessions #emotional vulnerability #possesive but not extreme #bakery date

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slyvieselkie · 8 months ago

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Sweet As Bonbon - Aizawa Shouta

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⋆˚✿˖°🍰♡ ༘*.ﾟ⋆˚✿˖°🍰♡ ༘*.ﾟ⋆˚✿˖°🍰♡ ༘*.ﾟ⋆˚✿˖°🍰♡ ༘*.ﾟ⋆˚✿˖°🍰♡ ༘*.ﾟ⋆˚✿˖°

Bonbon is an adorable nickname, everyone can agree, not many believe it should be associated with a man like him. When everyone ask who 'Bonbon' is, you show them your favourite photo with a bright grin. They expect the most charming, handsome, young man that has the sweetest smile...only to find Aizawa Shouta.

Smiles freeze as they take in the man on the tiny screen. A man that seems much older than you, with long messy hair, exhausted dull eyes, and an unkempt stubble. Well, that was definitely a surprise. Especially since the photo you show is one of his insane smiles, psycho adjacent. But no one has the heart to wipe the giddiness you show, so they smile respectfully.

You can tell he's not what they expected, nothing about this man is sugar and chocolate. Even his colleagues laugh at the nickname thinking you were just teasing Shouta, until they stop because the two of you aren't. Everyone grows seriously concerned that you're actually serious. The blonde man, Hizashi, glances between you and a pissed Shouta, "...You're definitely getting cat-fished, run girl-". Hizashi gets cut off by the cloths wrapping around his throat and everybody panics. Later that night you ask Shouta, what was that about? The black haired man waves your worries away, "Nothing, he's just chronically stupid."

But even the man himself can't help but wonder, all the time. He thinks about it a few times a day. Like when he decides to sneak into the shower with you, you'll squeal "Bonbon~!" at him before making room for his surprisingly large form. Or when you bring his forgotten lunch to U.A. He'll finish a class and return to the teachers' office to find everyone passing your sweet note with cute bonbon faces. Shouta despises how the word haunts his life and mind. He hates how everyone makes a big deal out of it and wishes the word never existed. But the man would also hate it if you stop calling him that, because you say it with so much love and affection. The day he stops being "Bonbon"...is the day you stop loving him.

He finally gets his wish on a random Sunday when he returns from his morning run. After stopping by the fridge for some cold water, Shouta makes his way for the bedroom when he hears your voice and someone else on the phone.

"Bonbon, whose that?"

Seated at your dressing table, you gasp and pause your makeup, "Oh my gosh girl, have I not told you about Bonbon?!", "No!", "Shit where do I start?".

Your friend on the other side snort, "Uhh maybe on how Bonbon came about?", you give a dreamy sigh and turn to look at the beautiful weather, "Well..."

Bonbon is a small chocolate confection, with a hollow inside where fillings can be hidden. These include sweet alcoholic ingredients, creamy ganache, fruit purees, and so much more. The sky is truly the limit when it comes to Bonbon and their combinations. And the best part of it, is the surprise. From a simple chocolatey treat to a galaxy of flavours. That is the best way to describe Aizawa Shouta.

....

At first, he reminded me of the marshmallow bonbon my patisserie used to sell.

You and Shouta met during your part-time employment at a patisserie near U.A. From the moment he first walked in, the man had caught your eye. The lanky customer stumbled in like he had just returned from war, or stepped out of the trash. All of the other customers also noticed him and their discomfort showed through how they cleared the pathway like he was Moses.

Your coworkers also eyed the man, wondering what a man like him was doing here. You also had your questions, like why on earth would he buy a liquorice loaf out of everything here? The disgusting thing was an item your boss had put on to please a niche audience consisting of herself. The patisserie would literally make one loaf a week because no one would buy it.

"This one please", he spoke in a gruff voice and you chirped, "Of course, that'll be $7.50 for today."

After returning his change, you placed the item in a small paper bag and smiled, "Thank you so much, have a good day!"

He nodded and left. As the door slowly shut, you felt the atmosphere lighten up and heard the whispers. Regardless of how you felt, it wasn't your place to step in so you just left to clean up. He was just a customer, and most likely a one time buyer.

Until he kept coming in and in. The man had a routine now, and it somehow always lines up with the days you would be working at the front. Monday afternoons, Wednesday mornings, and Fridays just before closing. And he would always walk around the whole store, tricking you to believe he'd buy something new, before picking the liquorice loaf. You two would repeat the same dialogue, no small talk or extra fluff. At some point, he became a part of you. A thing you had to check off the list to ensure that your day was complete.

Until he didn't come for the whole week, and it made you...different. You weren't right, weren't thinking straight or doing anything properly. It made you so distracted that you burnt yourself while melting sugar. The injury was small but you had to immediately leave for the hospital and was told to rest for two or three days. With that, you missed the black haired man another week. During that time, the ache in your chest grew unbearable.

You feared that you fell in a love with a stranger. A much older man who you know nothing about and speak a total of twenty words to him. However, there was something that drew you to him. Something that forced your eyes to follow him and every movement of his. A curiosity to discover what he contained inside that plain shell. A wonder to what other flavours he held.

It was nearly three weeks later on Friday when you met him again. You had finally gotten used to not seeing him...almost. That was until the bell rang signalling a customer and turned around to greet them, only to find him. Freezing for a moment, you stutter a welcome before scurrying off to the kitchen. You hid your face in your palms, your resolve to ignore the tightness in your chest had vanished. A sweetness rushed in, just from seeing him. What hell was wrong with you? Before you knew it, he was already at the register with his item. Why was he so fast today?

After taking a deep breath, you walked down and went through the steps on the routine. Say the amount, take his money, return the change, place his item in the bag, say your farewells, and wait for the next time.

"Welcome back, I missed you", your mind with blank hearing those words.

It wasn't in his usual grunt. It was a deep voice coated in sugar chocolatey richness, with an airy tone. And you felt your soul shatter into pieces. Oh gosh, everything was bursting out. Rushing out like a flood.

"Y-You can't say that", your voice and body trembled while he raised an eyebrow, "I can't, why?"

Opening your tightly shut eyes, you finally looked up at him and whisper terrified, "Because now I can't hide that I like you."

And his eyes widened while you escaped to the kitchen. But of course you couldn't hide from him forever, couldn't hide from his rejection. You knew what he'd say, that you were a foolish young girl who fell in love with a fantasy. Juvenile emotions, he'd scoff and walk away leaving your broken feelings to seep into the cracks of the ground. At some point you wished that he'd just walk off never to be seen again, so that you can remember him with a bitter sweetness. But you had a feeling he wasn't that type of guy.

You were right. When the lights were turned off, doors locked, and everyone walking seperate ways...he was waiting there for you with a blank face. Say it, you begged him in your mind. That you were a happy-go-lucky girl, that someone like you wouldn't know what love was. Because maybe he was right, maybe he wasn't, you were fine with that.

Except he only approached you, one step at a time at a slow pace. And you allowed him into your space, to stand in front and tower over. For his hand to land on your cheek and caress it so sweetly with a light touch. You gulped and bit your lip to void yourself, in case he woke up from whatever spell had been casted and ran off.

Until the black haired man gave a small smile, "Are you okay?", and you squeak out, "Aren't you supposed to reject me now?"

He blinked before chuckling, and you felt yourself drown in a sea of cocoa, "Is that how confessions go these days, I have to reject you?", "W-Well, I just assumed that would happen! I mean, you probably just see me as a kid!"

The twinkle in his eyes grow even more vibrant and he answered, so softly you thought it would be carried away by the wind, "Only assholes would think that. Regardless of age, your feelings are real and I should respect that."

You were thankful to the breeze for cooling your cheeks, because without it you might faint of overheating. Amused he leaned down and asked if you really wanted him to reject you.

"G-Give me a moment", you turn to the side and hold up your arms to block his sight.

Then you squeak feeling a bounce against your inner wrist, you pull them away only for the man to find your nose as a replacement. You whine again and he fits you against his body, breathy laughter tickling your ear like a cloudy marshmallow.

"Alright, we can take it slow."

....

But of course, Shouta had other flavours to him...possessive like lemon cheesecake.

Many people view Shouta as a tired man who couldn't be bothered to lift a hand outside of work. And all of his friends, family, and colleagues would agree. But you disagree with that. Whenever it came to you, Shouta was always 100. Including his mission to keep the 'wolves in sheep clothing' away from you. AKA the guys at your university.

You always assured Shouta that he was the one you wanted and the guys don't really chase after you, but your boyfriends begs to differ. During his intel collecting mission, stalking you, the pro-hero lost count of how many eyes followed you. He grew sour as a lemon seeing some think about approaching you. All the while, you innocently skipped along thinking about your classes. Unforgivable, death to all of them.

That day when your classes were finished, he texted you that he'll be there to pick you up. Confused, you sent a heart anyways and forgot about it for the rest of the day.

"Damn, what's with the crowd of girls?", your male classmate noticed as the two of you walked down to the gates.

You watched as groups of giggling girls with hearts in their eyes running past with their phones out. Thinking it was some kind of idol, you shrugged it off. That was until you reached the mess and your jaws dropped. Because in the eye of the cyclone was your man. Your man who wore a black button up, rolled up to his thick biceps, with matching dress pants and shoes. Not only that, he had cleaned up his appearance.

You huffed seeing girls ask if they could touch his ponytail.

"No, My girlfriend will be here soon so you should leave", the girls pouted, "Come on, it's just a touch~ Is she that possessive she won't let you have any girlfriends?"

After a few seconds he smirked down at them, "Is that really what you think?", one of them scooted up to him until their hips bumped, "What else~?"

Instantly Shouta cringed up like he just ate something tart, "It's more that I don't find you that attractive. You should see how much better she is than you, especially with the way she respects people's space and relationships."

Everyone froze including you at his response.

Then Shouta found you and his face softened, "There she is...with a guy", and Mr Lemon was back.

He flashed in front of you, enveloping you into a tight hug greeting you so sweetly. All the while glaring down the fool who dared to compete with him. The poor boy shrunk away and didn't bother to say goodbye before running off.

You didn't even care, nuzzling into his chest with the brightest grin. Only you could bring out the sugar within this man, the cake like richness that he saved only for you. Noticing this, he smiled and pecked your temple. What a terrible duo.

It only got worse from there, for everyone else. Shouta upgraded his wardrobe and tried his best to pick you up from university as much as possible. Regardless of his new status as the campus eye candy, whether those wolves still lusted after you, all of it would vanish when you stepped through those gates. Because Shouta's sour barrier kept them away while you ate up all that he had to give.

....

And very rarely does he become as bitter as dark chocolate and cherry liqueur.

It's a side that Shouta rarely shows to you. A cold, blunt, and apathetic version of himself that is only reserved for everyone else but you. The version called Eraserhead. Shouta tries to keep Eraserhead and you seperate, but the overlap is inevitable.

Like the time he forgot some paperwork at home so you had to bring it to U.A, only to find him grilling a student with fury radiating out in purple waves. Or when you get to see him in action, rescuing civilians and arresting villains. He's aggressive, dangerous, and icy. And the most memorable was the night you two were invited to a hero celebration party hosted by the government.

Shouta never attends those, he finds it boring and meaningless. However, his mind was changed when he was sent an series of photo from Nemuri. It was of you, dolled up the prettiest gowns with the cutest grin on your face. He sent back a message 'Buy all of them' with his card details, and accepted the invite. All the while unaware that he had started humming, and terrifying the rest of the office.

The night itself started off better than ever. You were bursting with excitement and greeting his colleagues so brightly, there wasn't a single person who wasn't charmed. But of course there will always be some bad apples, even amongst heroes.

As Shouta spoke to the few assemblymen, you had been whisked away by a few female proheroes.

You smiled shyly at their compliments, "Oh aren't you just the most cutest~?", "No wonder Eraserhead immediately snatched you up!", "I mean, who wouldn't want a young and sweet girl! Look, she doesn't even have a callous or bruise on her hand!"

Your smile faltered at the odd...compliment? Was it one?

"Wow, I bet you've never been in a fight before huh?", they giggled to themselves, "Come on, her?! I doubt she would even raise her voice at someone!", "Maybe that's why he likes her, easier to you know!"

The air suddenly felt hostile and you laughed uncomfortably, eyes scanning the room to hopefully find Shouta. After a few seconds, you found him with a few teachers from U.A and sighed in relief, time to escape.

That was until, "Look it's Ms Joke!", and you watched as a woman with sea green hair approach the group.

As you watched her lean in towards him with a teasing smile, whispers from behind echoed in your mind, "Have you met her yet? The two of them are quite close", "Yeah, everyone used to think they were dating!", "It's hard not to when she constantly jokes about it~"

"Joke about what?", a gruff voice spoke up and all of you turn around to find the black haired prohero.

The ominous and bitter look in his eyes made the women around you tense up, "I asked, joke about what?"

No one said a thing and his eyes flickered over to yours, softening but still brewing with abyssal darkness like the liqueur, "Tell me."

You choked up, feeling a child before him about to tattletale. It was so painful, how they were absolutely right. You'll always be a child compared to him, hiding behind his money and authority with a deep well of immature thoughts and feelings. It becomes stuffy in your chest, realising that everything you are and have now is an extension of him.

The hurt on your face was enough to tell him everything, but someone else joins in, "What happened? You all looked so happy humiliating her before?"

Eraserhead turns to the woman beside him, "M-Mirko, what are you saying?", the prohero laughed casually, "What, you thought no one else heard you? Joking that Eraserhead chose her because she's young and docile so he could control her better?"

Your eyes fell to the ground in order to avoid his, shame slowly seeped out through the stinging in your irises.

"Or distort his relationship with Ms Joke, implying something more than friendship?", your body curled noticing the increasing attention.

As the voices grew louder and harsher, you begged the heavens to just vanish into thin air. Suddenly, there were hands covering your ears. You look up to find Eraserhead, mouth shaped into an acrid scowl as his eyes narrow similar to the feeling of sharp alcohol.

He was saying so much, you assume it was very acerbic through everyone else's expression. None of it could you hear, was it someone's quirk? Maybe it was a good thing because in seconds, the situation grows physical. It looked like a bar fight with the way Mirko flies through the air, not a government party filled with proheroes.

The two of you escape the mess and into one of the chauffer cars. It's silent as the two of you collect your thoughts, you could see the driver pray a fight wouldn't start in the car. Then a force pushes your head onto the man's shoulder and your eyes well up again.

"I...I feel so stupid, so n-naive!", your voice cracks and lips lean down to catch your tears.

You feel him return, feel Shouta next to you, the dimensional change from Eraserhead to your sweet man. Sweet like the subtle, fruity, aftertaste of the cherry liqueur. And you cry even harder.

As much as he is proud of his heroism and work ethics, this makes Shouta hope that you and Eraserhead stay in different worlds. Because its a sign, that if Eraserhead is close...then you are in pain.

....

Your smile softens as you continue.

"He treats me as a normal person, always capable of learning more, but not hopeless and defenseless. He teaches me things I don't know patiently, let me figure things out on my own, allow me to be emotional. Because in his words, You should spend your youth free and limitless, reach the skies and if it gets too high...I'll be there to bring you back down".

On the other side of the door, Shouta has the brightest grin on his face. He's giddy, wondering how he should celebrate hearing this. Take you to a nice restaurant? Holiday across Europe? Ideas flood his mind as he walks away, humming softly.

"That's why I call him Bonbon, my Bonbon."

Hi Lovelies, long time no see!

Soz if Aizawa was a bit ooc for you, but that's the beauty of a tsundere! This one was actually very difficult to write because the initial word I had in mind was butterscotch but there wasn't much to write about and everything I could write sounded weird. So yeah, tough time for me.

Anyways, I hoped you guys enjoyed this one and I'll see you another time ✮⋆˙💋ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶💋⋆｡° ✮

#reader insert #romance #fanfiction #long reads #female reader #fluff #bnha #bnha x reader #aizawa #aizawa x reader

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sometimesanalice · 1 year ago

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Make You Mine This Season

Summary: It’s your second Christmas with Bradley and the holidays are always better with him by your side. After the perfect day out, you come home with a new accessory- just not the one you were hoping for.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 8K

Warnings: so much fluff and some allusions to smut and a cast that looks like a candy cane.

(Author’s Note: set in the Oh, Christmas Tree universe, can be read on its own)

You can’t fight the smile on your face as you watch Bradley studiously stare at the Christmas tree with a delicate glass icicle ornament dangling from his long finger.

“I think it need to go a little to the left, Roos,” you say, watching the way the little golden thread attached to it gleams from the many strands of white lights he had spun around it earlier in the afternoon.

The contrast between your handsome Naval aviator boyfriend and the very large, very fluffy pink Christmas tree he had bought for you would never not thoroughly charm you.

“Here?” he asks, moving the dainty icicle to the left per your suggestion.

“Maybe just a bit up?”

Bradley moves it and holds it up to a spot near the little glass Hawaiian shirt ornament you’d gotten for him. He was so amused by it that he’d given it what he called a place of honor on the tree.

“Hmm, no. I think back to the right and down a smidge.”

He turns and shoots you a smirk over his broad shoulder, “Ok, now you’re just messing with me.”

And then he hangs it on the tree with a flourish.

You laugh when he steps back and gives a dramatic sweep of the hand that would put Vanna White to shame.

Ever the showman.

He had been so excited when he’d found the ornaments in the storage locker he’d kept in Virginia earlier in the summer when the two of you had taken a quick trip to there to pack up the remaining things he’d left behind and bring them home.

The sleeves on the flannel plaid shirt he is wearing are rolled up highlighting his forearms and that snug fitting tank and the ridges of his abs on full display. You’d taken the liberties to sneak in a few glances as he’d bent over to grab ornaments out of the large plastic storage container you keep them in.

It’s an easy choice to abandon the silvery glittery Fa-la-la-la garland that you had been working on hanging on that tricky bit of wall space beneath the stairs to come stand next to him by the tree.

Plus, you know that you can get Bradley to put it up for you- even though he hates the feeling of glitter on his hands- if you offer to make him an Old Fashioned in exchange.

He drapes his arm over your shoulders and drops a kiss to the top of your head as you wrap your arms around his waist, the two of you taking a moment to admire the pretty twinkling tree in front of you with Bob Hope crooning softly on the background.

You love this tree.

And not because it is the most wonderfully ostentatious thing you’ve ever seen. Or because he’d surprised you with it when he asked you to move in with him the year before. But because it was one of the many ways he showed you just how important you were to him, just how much he paid attention to you.

Bradley kept asking what you wanted for Christmas this year, but you’d been avoiding giving him an answer.

Because he was the only thing on your list this year.

You would gladly never have a real tree again as long as it meant that Bradley got to be yours forever.

His allergy to pine trees had taken both of you by surprise last year. Before that chaotic afternoon last December, he had never had a real tree before, but it didn’t take long until his normally sunkissed skin has been covered in angry red hives.

And that gorgeous seven-foot Noble Fir that you had selected from the Christmas tree lot had quickly become Jake’s gorgeous seven-foot Noble Fir.

But you’ll never forget that magical moment when you had walked into his cozy living room to see that candy colored confection of a tree for the first time and how proud Bradley had been to be the one to make your dreams of a pink tree Christmas come true.

It was something you had only ever mentioned once in passing, but that’s who Bradley Bradshaw is. The type of man who goes above and beyond for the people he loves.

Last year, the two of you had just picked up a couple boxes of basic multicolored bobbles to hang on the tree. But this year, your pretty pink tree has some new decorations that you’d collected along the way since then.

The sparkling frosty mug was something he’d found at the airport on the way back from when you’d taken him home to meet your parents for the first time. To no one’s surprise, they’d loved him. He’d had a lot of fun at the breweries you’d taken him to and you liked getting to see a tipsy and pink cheeked Bradley Bradshaw.

There was a blue miniature model toy Bronco with a bottle-brush Christmas tree hanging out the back was one you’d recently found at a Christmas market you went to with Nat and Bob the previous weekend. You’ve never handed over your credit card for something so quickly before in your life.

There was even a shiny shamrock that Jake had picked up to commemorate your first- and last- Leprechaun Run.

It was a promise you were coerced into making in exchange for Jake’s help and the use of his truck to move your things into Bradley’s place the weekend after you happily agreed to live in with him. You were planning on waiting until after the beginning of the New Year, but Rooster wouldn’t hear of it. You were able to hold off for a few days, but he’d made some rather compelling points with his mouth that had swayed your mind pretty quickly.

That New Year’s Eve, he’d kissed you properly and thoroughly surrounded by a dozen half-unpacked brown cardboard boxes.

You thought Hangman would have forgotten about it, but it turns out the only person that had forgot was a you, because you’d nearly spit out your beer mid-sip when he’d slapped down the race bib in front of you at the Hard Deck one evening in March.

It was just as terrible as you’d imagined it would be and worse. Not even the four-leaf clover bobble headband you’d worn had cheered you up even the slightest.

The term fun run was an oxymoron and you were willing to die on that a hill.

And of course, there was also a copy of the house key dangling on a pretty pink velvet ribbon. The one he’d originally given you was a permanent fixture on your key ring.

“So what’s the verdict, sweetheart? How did I do? Is it fluffed enough?” he asks, pulling back to look down at you.

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen,” you say grinning up at him.

You’ve loved his homey Craftsman since the first time you’d stepped inside it with all of its warm wooden paneling around the entryways and ceiling beams. The hand tiled fireplace was mostly for aesthetics rather than functionality. You’d filled it with a display of tall pillar candles, but there’d been a couple of occasions where the two of you had stacked it with wood picked up from the grocery store and had the sounds of its crackles and pops serving as the soundtrack to your cozy night in.

You loved it even more now that your books were mixed in with his on the bookshelf. On top of his upright piano there were framed pictures of you and him and of all your friends and family. On the mantle of that fireplace were ivory knit stockings embroidered with your name and his.

This was your home now too, pink Christmas tree and all.

“The best thing, huh?” he says, amused.

“Maybe second best,” you muse, sliding your hand into the back pocket of his snug jeans, “Those Danny Zuko shorts you wore last Halloween still live rent free in my head.”

“I’ve still got those short-shorts, you just say the word and I’ll go put them on for you anytime.”

You snort a laugh and pull him down for a kiss.

The two of you have been together for almost a year and a half, but the way Bradley kisses you still sets off butterflies in your stomach and makes your heart flutter.

Soft kisses. Passionate kisses. Hello kisses. See you soon- never goodbye- kisses. Just because kisses. There you are kisses. Never stop kissing me kisses. All of them turn you upside down just like a snow globe.

He pulls away first, looking to the tree again contemplatively, “You know, the more I look at this the I feel like something is missing.”

You skim over the tree with its warm glow from the many strands of lights, the sparkling ornaments, the glinting icicles, and the delicate bejeweled snowflake tree topper. Short of tying on a few bows for the fun of it, there’s nothing more you think this tree needs.

“I might have tucked a little something in the piano bench,” Rooster says with a nod towards his well-loved upright, “Why don’t you take a look.”

You try and fail to ignore the swoop in your stomach as you walk up to the bench. You already know that you want to be his forever and the two of you are on the same page about it, but you don’t want to get your hopes up. You’re trying to be practical, realistic.

But the heart wants what the heart wants, and your heart wants him.

The seat creaks open as you lift the lid open with a not-so-steady hand, and sitting inside a small box filled with iridescent filler are the prettiest pair of ceramic ice skates you’ve ever seen. You lift the dainty ornament from the box to see that they dangle from a couple ribbons that have been tied together in a lovely bow at the top. They even have a little white fluff lining the rims of boot.

It was one of the things you missed most about home, your town had a little outdoor rink that was set up every year. You weren’t the greatest skater and it had been a few years since you’d laced up a pair of boots, but it had always been one of your favorite traditions growing up.

“Oh Bradley, they’re so lovely,” you say with a dreamy sigh, “I love it, thank you!”

You admire them for another moment taking in all their little details before hanging them up on the pink tree near his little Hawaiian shirt ornament in a place of honor on the tree.

“I have another surprise for you,” he says with a grin, looking very proud of himself.

“Oh? When did you become such a man of mystery?” you tease.

“Gotta keep my girl on her toes,” Rooster winks, sliding a finger through your belt loop to pull you closer before wrapping his arms around you. “You know how Hotel del Coronado has that ice-skating rink set up now?”

Of course you did.

The tickets went on sale a little over seven weeks ago and time slots had sold out in five minutes. You’d even signed up early to try and get a spot in the queue and it still had kicked you out with empty hands.

“Yeah,” you say slowly, drawing out the word, looking up at him skeptically.

Bradley has been on a training detachment at the time, so there was no way Mr. One Percent could have gotten them when you couldn’t. There’s just no way.

You must say that part out loud or think it loud enough for him to hear you because that gorgeous smile of his gets devastatingly self-satisfied.

“I sure did, sweetheart-”

You jump up and cut him off with a kiss, he is quick to get his hands underneath you for support while your legs wrap around him.

“Oh my god, Bradley, how?” you ask excitedly between peppering kiss across his nose and cheeks.

“Ok, I can’t take full credit. I had some help,” he admits, clearly happy with your reaction, “Nat has, and I quote, ‘fast fingers’.”

You make a little squeal in delight as you throw your arms around his neck to hug him and he laughs. It’s the best sound in the world to you.

“What do you say, want to make a day of it? I might have a few things in mind for our San Diego Christmas. We’re a couple weeks early, but I’m feeling festive.”

You get too distracted by his smiling mouth to give him your answer then and there, but you remember to officially accept later that night in bed after your heart finally stops racing.

Convincing you to move in with him might be the best thing Bradley’s ever done.

Those cool Winter nights last year had tasted like bourbon and were spent wrapped up together on the couch and under the covers.

Your first big fight had been over whose Super Bowl team was going to win. There had been a lot of trash talk that night, but eventually a peace had been brokered. And really, no one was a loser when it came to orgasms.

In the Spring, he had built you a bunch of raised garden beds in the backyard for you to grow whatever you wanted. He’d learned that he had a bit of a green thumb when it came to zucchinis, a fact that irked you to no end because you could never get them to produce anything. He didn’t know sunshine had a scent until he could smell it on your skin with your hands covered in dirt and a smile on your facec.

And he was not surprised to learn that he was also very much a fan of your sundress collection.

The golden Summer days were spent at the beach and taking road trips to nowhere in the Bronco then the long way home. Rooster burned more often than he cared to admit, but you started keeping a container of aloe in the fridge for him. He’d never say no to have your soft hands on his body, your touch more soothing than the cooling gel could ever be.

That Fall he’d finally been able to go home with you for Thanksgiving. He’d met your family earlier in the year, but you’d been so proud to show him off at the official family gathering as you’d sipped on your cranberry mimosa. And after a year of planning, the two of you had finally been able to enact your Stealthy Soufflé Scheme.

He had been determined to get his girl that closely guarded recipe no matter what.

Your Aunt Christine had been putty in his hands with all of his yes, ma’ams and no, ma’ams and charming smiles and All-American golden boy aviator thing. You’d primed him on what things she was interested in and he had fully leaned into it, sweet talk and all. It didn’t hurt that she had been a big fan of the expensive bottles Syrah the two of you had brought with you.

You and your mom had been thrilled when he’d presented you with the handwritten copy of the coveted recipe. He had been happy to do it, but he didn’t mind the way you showed him your thanks later that night in your childhood bedroom.

He was the first boyfriend you’d ever had in there, and if he has his way, he’d also be the last.

Victory- and that not-so-secret-anymore corn soufflé recipe- never tasted so good.

The two of you had had a great first Christmas together last year, excluding the slight hiccup with the whole hives thing. And he knows he’s a bit of a perfectionist, but he wants to make this one even better.

He had let you sleep in as long as he could, but he was excited for all the festive things he had arranged for today.

“C’mon, sleepy girl. We’ve got plans,” he says, skimming a few soft kisses along your shoulder.

“Do those plans involve coffee?” you mumble sleepily into your pillow.

He chuckles and brushes back a few of the hairs that are stuck against your forehead, “Of course, it’ll be the first stop after.”

You peek up at him from under your silk eye mask, he’s always liked a slightly fussy girl. You’d even got him one for his deployments to help him sleep better on the carrier.

“After what, Roos,” you ask skeptically.

“You seemed to enjoy that Leprechaun Run you did with Jake and I saw that there was an Ugly Sweater Fun Run today and I signed us up, we have to be there in an hour.”

“Bradley, you didn’t,” you say with a gasp, sitting up like you’ve been struck by lightning.

You look so alarmed, clutching the top sheet to your chest, that he can’t help but throw his head back and laugh.

“No, I didn’t. I promise,” he says, trying to pull you into his chest.

You shove lightly at his shoulder, “That was so rude of you, Bradley Peter Bradshaw.”

“Not the government name,” he smirks, leaning down to trail a couple kisses along your neck. He likes the way you always shiver when his mustache grazes that ticklish spot under your ear.

“Oh my god, I swear I just had a war flashback to that second mile when Jake tried to make me keep up with him,” you huff, leaning your head to the side to let him continue apologizing with his mouth, “You’re so lucky I’m even talking to you right now.”

“I am very lucky to have such a pretty, smart, and forgiving girlfriend. One who appreciates over the top Christmas decorations and brunch with themed cocktails.”

That piques your interest and you seem much more awake now for someone who usually needs at least two cups of coffee before becoming a fully functional human being, “Themed cocktails, you say?”

“Mhmm, they even have a Ho-Ho-Hot and Spicy Bloody Merry, spelled m-e-r-r-y,” he says with a smile, running a finger down the bridge of your nose. “But to get one, we have to get out of this bed and into the shower.”

“Sounds like it would be more efficient if we took one together, huh?” you grin, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Plus I’m all about preserving the planet’s natural resources.”

The two of you were a little late getting out of the house, having worked up an appetite, but still manage to make it in time for the reservations he had made.

The restaurant had been swathed in miles of frosted evergreen garlands with so many oversized ornaments dangling and ribbons woven throughout that he wasn’t sure how it hadn’t come crashing down off the ceiling. Not an inch of it was left undecorated, it was all stands of lights and shiny wreaths and giant cellophane covered candies.

Brunch had been complete with a couple of those Bloody Merry’s he’d heard about from Coyote, as well as an order of Santa pancakes topped with a hat of strawberries tossed with orange zest infused syrup.

The Christmas radio station was playing all of your favorites and you were singing along as he zipped along the highway to the next stop.

The Ocean Beach Christmas tree was beloved for being San Diego’s unofficial response to the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Bob had told him he’d stumbled upon it on accident one day last year when he had been exploring his new city and learned about the tree’s forty-year history and had enthusiastically recommended that Rooster added it to his festive agenda.

Bradley loved the way your face lit up at the sight of it. The top of the massive tree was leaning to the right and looked straight out of Whoville the way it decorated with all kinds of blow up pool toys. There were beach balls galore, traditional ones and ones that looked like disco balls, a few parrots, and even one shaped like an electric guitar.

“Oh my god, look!” He looks up from the text message he was replying to and follows the line of your arm to where your finger is directing his gaze, “Another bird defying the laws of physics.”

And there tucked away up in the tree next to a blow-up globe is an inflatable rooster.

On the way back into town, two of you stopped by Mission Bay to grab some more coffee and walk around the marina to check out some of the decorated boats docked for the Parade of Lights. He’d heard about it from Penny, who had even participated in the event herself a few years ago.

You’d both agreed the one that had turned the tall mast of the sailing boat into a glowing Christmas tree was the clear winner.

The next stop was something Bradley knew you’d be really excited about.

He’d found out about the Christmas centerpiece floral arrangement class from Nat who had a crush on the florist who ran the little shop.

The class was filled with mostly women, but there were a couple other men scattered around. They’d greeting him with that head nod that only men seem to exchange, like you got roped into this too, huh?, but what they didn’t know was that being there had been his idea.

Rooster was slipping his phone back into his pocket when you returned back to your little round table with an arm full of various flowers and different greens, with not a pine frond in sight. He’d even called in advance to make sure that there wouldn’t be any involved, just in case.

You were divvying up the things that you’d gathered from the long farmhouse tables in the front between the two of you when his phone pings again.

“Rooster, is everything ok? I feel like your phone is going off a ton this afternoon,” you asked, putting down the white berry looking things to look at him, a little crease there between your eyebrows.

“Yeah, of course,” he’d said, rubbing the back of his neck, “Fanboy decided to invite chaos into the group chat by asking if a hot dog was a sandwich or not. It’s getting pretty contentious.”

You give him a look but go back to dividing the pile in front of you, moving on from the berry things to some small roses.

“Also, for the record, a hot dog is definitely a category of its own. You don’t call a hamburger a sandwich,” you’d replied, not missing a beat.

“You won’t hear me arguing with that logic.”

“Good. Because facts are facts, Bradley.”

He pulled out his phone again to give it one last quick skim before turning the volume down, before noticing what flowers you’d just set in front of him, “Hey, are those dahlias?”

You hold up a stem with a large deep burgundy flower for him, giving it a spin between your fingers, “They are! It’s a little late in the season for them, so I’m surprised to see them here. Aren’t they pretty?”

“Those were my mom’s favorites,” he’d said fondly, remembering a backyard from decades ago that was lined with around the edges with the flowers.

“Were they? Well, I’m glad I grabbed them then,” you said with a soft smile, before handing him a few more to work with.

By the end of class, he knows his ears are pink because of how much you’re showering him with praise and gushing over his arrangement. He’d even gotten a few supportive thumbs ups from some of the other people in class.

“Seriously, Bradley. It’s so lovely! I mean, look at those pinecones you tucked in it. I can’t wait to put it on the dining table!”

You wanted to swing by Mav and Penny’s place to drop yours off for them, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he managed to convince you that it could wait until tomorrow.

He couldn’t wait for the next part of your day together.

Bradley jogs around the front of the Bronco to open your door for you after he parks at the Hotel del Coronado. He gives you his hand to help you down from the car, instead you reach and pull his face to yours.

The kiss is like spun sugar, airy and sweet. He could taste the lingering peppermint from your latte earlier.

“What was that for,” he murmurs against you lips.

“I just really love you,” you sigh, nudging his nose with yours, “Today has been so perfect. I feel like I’m in one of my Christmas movies, except I know you’re not going to ask me to leave my job in the big city to help you run your grandmother’s failing bakery to only get paid in gingerbread and Christmas spirit.”

“Lucky for you, my grandma could barely make toast, so you’re spared from such a fate. You wouldn’t need that little Mini Cooper of yours in a town that only has one stoplight.”

You press a quick kiss to his cheek, “Well thank goodness for small miracles.”

“We’ve still got one more thing on the list. You ready for this?” Bradley asks, holding his hand out.

You slip your hand in his with a grin, “Virtue and Moir better watch out.”

You can’t say you’ve ever expected to see an ice rink set up with a display of white sand and sparkling blue ocean behind it. But it was easily one of the most magical things you’ve ever seen.

The sunset has painted the skies a beautiful display of cool blues, soft pinks, and dusky purples. The palm trees lining the rink have been done up in strands of white lights that crisscross over it above your heads. The mixture of happy laughter, Christmas songs piped over the sound system, and waves crashing served as the soundtrack to the moment.

And you’re trying desperately not to fall and make a fool of yourself.

It was more than a little humbling stepping onto the rink after having not had a pair of ice skates on for more than a decade. It had been awhile since your family had indulged in this particular tradition, but you figured it would be like riding a bike.

It’s almost laughable now how wrong you were.

“How are you so good at this?” you jokingly accuse as you wobble on your skates, yet again. Luckily, Bradley’s sturdy grasp on your hand keeps you from falling.

He laughs, “I thought you said you did this all the time growing up?”

“I did! I just never said I was good at it.” A kid whizzes past you- a little too close, a little too fast- and Bradley shoots a disgruntled look at his swiftly retreating figure. “You come from a snow state, it’s in your blood. You automatically have the advantage.”

“Are you thinking of the other V-state? Vermont?” he teases, easily gliding around you swapping spots so that you’re closer to the edge of the rink rather than the middle.

“It snows in Virginia, I googled it.”

“I mean, yeah, but not a ton,” he says, “But it wasn’t like I was hitting up the indoor rinks either.”

“So you’re telling me you’re just a natural?” You roll your eyes affectionately at him.

He winks at you, “You said it not me, sweetheart.”

You’d nearly melted on the sight when Rooster had knelt down in front of you and looked up at you with such a boyishly charming smile as he’d tied the laces of your rented ice skates.

It took a moment to get your hummingbird heart back under control after that.

After a few more laps around, you’re starting to feel like you’re falling into the rhythm of it. You’re still keeping an eye out for people and the older kid who had earned himself more than one glare from people trying to enjoy their time on the rink as he erratically bobbed and wove his way through them. But your strides are getting longer and the shifting motion from side to side is getting smoother. You could almost claim to be gliding.

You’d forgotten how much fun it was, but then again, Bradley always made everything better and brighter.

Your cheeks ache in the best way from how much smiling you’ve been doing today.

And if you faked a couple wobbles so that he’d put his arm around you, it was worth the sacrifice of trying to look graceful. He’s already seen you at your best and at your worst, so you didn’t think your lack of skill standing on a quarter of an inch of metal was going to scare him away.

Rooster is a few feet ahead of you showing off some of his fancy footwork and maybe if you hadn’t been so distracted by his smile you would have heard the aggressive woosh of the kid’s skates as he sped up behind you.

It had only been a matter of time.

He collides with you but keeps his balance and propels himself forward, not slowing his pace in the slightest before taking off again. Your feet slip out for beneath you and before you know it you’re extending your right arm down to try and break your fall.

You meet the ice hard.

You feel pop.

A rush of warmth.

And then throbbing.

The next five hours pass in a twinkling blur of heavy guilt and aching pain.

Bradley had gone through so much effort planning such a perfect day for you and you feel terrible about how it ended.

The wait at the hospital had been miserable. The lights were too glaring and the noises too loud. The garish green and red garland draped on the desk seemed to mock you as you’d gone through the motions of getting checked in.

Your wrist had been killing you and you hated being the reason that Rooster’s leg hand been bouncing anxiously next to you in the uncomfortable plastic chairs. He’d tried to hide it, but you’d seen that deep furrow between his brows. You’d almost cried when he started stroking the back your pain-free hand with this thumb. It wasn’t until they’d brought you back for X-rays and had given you a light dose of painkillers that the world had shifted back into the dreamy soft focus it had been like earlier in the day with Bradley when he’d taken you on all those perfect dates.

You didn’t know if he had planned anything else, all you knew is that everything had unraveled so quickly.

It’s an odd feeling like you could float away at any moment. The painkillers made you feel buoyant and light, yet you can feel the weight on your shoulders just the way you feel the weight of the cast on your wrist.

Even now as the candy-colored lights that he’d put up along the front of the house bounce off of his still perfect curls, he’s wearing the softest of smiles for you as he works to open the front door. His dreamy brown eyes are reflecting nothing back at you other than warmth and affection and care.

Your wonderful, loving, perfect boyfriend. Your perfect Bradley.

You know it’s not entirely the drugs fault the way you’re struck by just how pretty he is. You’ve always thought so, but here and now you’re simply mesmerized by him under the glow of the Christmas lights.

“I don’t think I’ve been called pretty before, sweetheart. But thank you,” Bradley says with a little amused chuckle.

“Well you are. And your hair. Bradley, it’s not fair.” The words are tumbling out of your loose lips.

“My hair isn’t fair?” he asks with a tilt of his head, holding open the front door for you.

“No, it’s not! You just wash it and it dries like that?” He takes your purse from you and sets it on the entry table before helping to ease off the heavier sweater jacket you were wearing from your shoulders. “I don’t think you get it. You’re pretty, but you’re so handsome too.”

He squats down in front of you and smiles up at you before helping to slip off your shoes, “I’ll take handsome too if it’s on the table, sounds like a nice combo.”

“Please, you sound like Jake now,” you giggle.

“Oh no, we can’t have that now can we,” he grins, “But at least I’m pretty and handsome, hopefully that’ll cushion the blow.”

And you just love him.

You love him for the way he loves you and takes care of you and tries to make you laugh when he knows you’re feeling down. You reach up to pull his face to yours when you are distracted by the thick cast on your arm.

“This wasn’t the accessory I was hoping for for Christmas,” you say with a sigh.

The panic that electrifies your body is immediate as your spine goes ramrod straight. Oh no oh no oh no oh no. You can almost see the words swirl and twirl around him, and you know there’s no way you can snatch them back from the way they hang in the air.

“Ohmygod. Oh my god, I didn’t mean to say that.” You’re so flustered now, so embarrassed. “Please pretend you didn’t hear that.”

But Bradley is looking at you with his eyes crinkled around the corners and his lips pressed together like he is trying to hold back a laugh with the way his cheeks are pulling up.

“Oh, did you want a pair of earrings?” he teases, cupping your face in his hand.

“Bradley,” you whine.

“C’mere, baby,” he laughs and pulls you into his chest. You wrap your arms around him and wonder briefly if he can feel the hard plaster of your cast pressed against his back. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, “You know you never did tell me what you wanted for Christmas.”

“Don’t need anything,” you murmur into the warmth of him.

He’s already all you’ve ever wanted.

As you make your way up the stairs, glow from your pretty pink tree seems brighter than usual. Normally, you’d take one last peek back at it before going to bed, but you’re still a bit wobbly on your feet. It’ll still be there waiting for you in the morning.

“Oh shit,” you hear him mutter from behind you.

“What’s wrong, Roos?”

“Ah- just stubbed my toe. C’mon, let’s get you upstairs.” The heavy tread of his footsteps is close behind you, you can almost feel the warmth of him at your back.

At you back. By your side. He’s the only person you’ll ever need.

They’d given you some of the strong stuff and he could tell that you were still floating in that sweet spot before all the gravity settles back into your bones.

The distal radius fracture in your right wrist meant that you’d be in the cast for the next six weeks. You’d gone with a white and pink stripped candy cane inspired look to match the tree, Bradley. While he wishes it wasn’t there in the first place, he thought the pattern you’d chosen was cute.

He’d quickly and quietly kicked off his shoes before he’d followed you into the bedroom. Hoping that you wouldn’t notice them, he’d take a disinfecting wipe to the floor and stairs tomorrow.

For as well as Rooster knew you, he felt a little out of his element because he knew you were hurting but he wasn’t sure what would make you feel better in that moment. When he offered to draw you a bath he’d instantly known it was the right choice by the look on your face.

So he’d made you one with all of your favorite products. The mound of bubbles he was able to achieve was truly impressive, if he did say so himself. He even dimmed the lights and lit a few candles for you.

Bradley had carefully wrapped up your cast in plastic wrap and secured the top with a rubber band. And the dejected pout on your face when you looked at it and called it an “unattractive arm condom” had nearly sent him over edge.

He’s already looking on his phone for other options, sitting on the bathroom floor next to you as you soak in the tub, when he feels your fingers thread through his hair and he leans into your touch.

“I really am jealous of your hair, you know. I’m sure there were a few of the girls at that floral class who were too.”

Your head is leaning back against the lip of the tub as you gaze at him, your hair wet from him washing it for you. He’d noticed the moment you realized how difficult it would be for you to do it yourself for the foreseeable future. But you brought out the optimistic side of him and he’d already come up with a solution, “I guess we’ll have to take more showers together then, so I can wash your hair for you. Plus, it’ll be good for the environment”. You’d laughed, and he was happy to see some of the light returning back into your eyes.

“I don’t know why when yours is so pretty,” he says, reaching out and lightly tugging on a lock of your hair.

“Did I tell you one of them asked me if you had a brother? She was honestly so put out when I said that you didn’t that I’m pretty sure she took the last of the dahlias out of spite when she saw me reaching for them. They didn’t even match her arrangement,” you say rolling your eyes, adjusting the way your plastic wrapped candy cane cast rested against the other side of the tub. “Like sorry not sorry, I’m not going to give you my boyfriend.”

“Was it the woman in the striped sweater?”

“Yes! It was her!”

Bradley had notice her checking him out a little too closely for a man who was clearly there another woman and happily taken.

“She had crazy eyes, I wouldn’t have wanted you to give me to her anyways.”

You snicker at that, “She did have crazy eyes.”

He makes a mental note to remember to grab the arrangements from out of the back of the Bronco before he goes to bed. He didn’t want anything to happen to them, but that could until after you were tucked in bed and asleep.

“But the instructor was so sweet, Roos. I told her that the dahlias were your mom’s favorites and then she went to the back and got me a bunch. She didn’t put them on the table or anything for anyone else, just handed them over to me for us to use. It was a real girls supporting girls moment, we bonded.”

He’s struck by the fact that you’d already known about his mom’s favorite flower. That you had let him think it was happenstance when really you had grabbed them because you’d known it would mean something to him. That you wanted to make it special for him when he was trying to make it a special day for you.

He didn’t think it was possible to love you any more than he already did, but you were so good at making him fall in love with you over and over again.

“That was really nice of her, sweetheart,” he says, his throat a little thick.

“It really was. And better yet she’s single and likes women,” you say with a grin, “I got her number to get coffee, but I might see if I can play matchmaker between her and Nat. She looks like Nat’s type.”

“This was our instructor? You got all of that out of her in a few minutes of conversation?” he asks, impressed.

You give him a cheeky shrug of your shoulder, “Yeah, I’m efficient. She owns the shop too. I think I’m going to order something for Penny and Mav from her closer to Christmas.”

“You know what, I think you’re right, she does seem very much like Nat’s type,” Bradley smiles to himself, Phoenix is going to be very excited when he tells her about this.

“’m always right,” you hum.

“You sure are, sweetheart,” he says fondly.

He watches as your eyelids start to get heavy and helps you to get out of the tub, wrapping you up in the biggest, fluffiest towel he can find and sits you on the bed as he goes into the closet to find something cozy for you to wear.

“What do you want me to grab you, baby?”

“Your shirt,” you call out sleepily.

He peeks his head around the opening, “Sweetheart, you’re not going to want hospital germs in bed.”

“No, not that one,” you say, scrunching your nose, “Your henley. The soft navy one with the little white flecks. ‘s my favorite.”

You look so tired, he doesn’t like the slump of your shoulders. He knows that feeling all too well and he hates that you feel so bad about something that you had no control over. It had been such a good day up until the end. But even so, you’re the only person he wants to go through the highs and lows with.

He strips down and puts both his clothes and yours into the hamper before grabbing the shirt for you. “Arms up,” he says gently, he pulls the sleeve wide to fit over your cast before threading it down your arms and over your head.

Rooster pulls back the covers for you to crawl into bed. He climbs in after you, cradling you against him as he reaches over for the remote to turn on your favorite Christmas movie channel for you to fall asleep too.

Your cast rests heavy on his chest.

The heroine just won the cookie cook-off and he thinks you’ve fallen asleep, but then you murmur quietly into the dark room, “This is the second year in a row, Bradley, I really think we should consider skipping Christmas next year. For both of our sake’s.”

“We’ve got too much Christmas spirit for a little pine tree allergy or fractured wrist to keep us down,” he tips your head up so that you’re looking at him, “Give it time, it’ll turn around. I promise, sweetheart.”

He seals that vow with a sweet kiss against your lips and a few minutes later he feels as your breaths even out and you fall asleep tucked against him.

You wake up the next morning feeling more than a little groggy and cotton-headed as everything from yesterday comes rushing back to you.

As does the aching in your right wrist.

You reach out for Rooster, but his side of the bed is already cold. He’s always been an early riser and once he’s awake he doesn’t know how to sit still. You wouldn’t have minded cuddling with him for a little bit, but knowing him he has probably already brewed a pot of coffee for you.

When you finally crack open your eyes, you see that he’s left out a bottle of the prescription strength ibuprofen the doctor had sent home with you on your nightstand and a note written in his slanted script reminding you to take one. Your sweetest boy.

You attempt to splash some cold water on your face with one hand, willing it to depuff your face a little bit and then try to fix up your hair so that you look and feel less bedraggled. It is one thing if Bradley is the one responsible for it, but that wasn’t the case this morning.

Before heading downstairs, you decide on a whim to change out of his shirt and into the cozy cream-colored fuzzy lounge set you’d bought on sale the other week. It takes three times longer to get dressed than it usually did, but getting yourself at least a little more put together made you feel a bit more in control. You knew the extra effort wasn’t necessary, but you felt cute and it was making you feel a little bit better about everything.

The pink and white cast was a bit of a choice looking at it in the morning light filtering through the airy curtains, but you thought you pulled it off well. It was cheerful and fun. And you weren’t going to let it affect you or your Christmas plans with your perfect boyfriend.

There is still some residual guilt you’re trying to shake off, you know it was a fluke of fate, but you’re already thinking about ways to make it up to him all the same.

You gingerly make your way down the stairs making a mental note to look up what other festive things were happening this weekend and call out to Rooster, “Please tell me there’s coffee.”

The raspy laugh that reaches your ears makes you smile for the first time that morning, “I’ve got one ready for you in the living room, sweetheart. It’s ready when you are.”

The painkillers, the coffee. The man is a saint and looks like a god. And he’s all yours.

You take those final few steps a bit faster, ready for the strong dark roast that only he seems to be able to make to just right and to thank him for taking such good care of you.

You lose all words when you walk into the living room.

It’s like you’ve walked into a dreamy pink forest straight out of a fairytale.

Your beloved very large, very fluffy, pink tree covered with all of your memories collected from the past year and Bradley’s mom’s sparkling vintage glass icicles is surrounded by two other very large, very fluffy, pink Christmas trees.

The newest additions to the living room glow with the hundreds of twinkling white lights. It’s ethereal and whimsical the way the light bounces and dapples on the walls and floors.

And there standing in front of them is Bradley, barefoot in his favorite sweatpants in your cozy living room of the home he’s made with you looking like a daydream.

You don’t think it’s the prescription strength pain medication kicking in that makes you feel like you’re floating as you walk towards him. You know it’s all him.

Bradley says your name with such adoration, such love that you swear you feel your heart reshape in your chest with his name on it.

“I envisioned this a bit differently in my mind, but the way I see it, we’re just starting the ‘in sickness and in health’ part a bit early,” he says, taking your right hand and dropping a kiss to your cast. Your eyes well up at the tender gesture.

And then you stop breathing when he sinks down onto one knee in front of you.

“I love you so much, sweetheart. I love your big heart and the way you’re so kind and generous to everyone you meet. I love the way you can light up a room with your smile. The best parts of my days are when I am with you. You’re the only person I want to wake up to, the only person I want to fall asleep with in my arms, and the only person who I want a forever with.” He reaches out and takes your shaky hand in his warm one, “Last year, you let me give you more than a drawer and it has been the best thing that has ever happened to me. You are the best damn thing that has ever happened to me. This year, will you let me give you my last name too and marry me?”

You can almost see his heart that he is wearing on his sleeve. His pretty honey brown eyes are tracing over every inch of your face, almost like he is trying to commit every microcosm of your expression to memory.

You had imagined this moment so many times. It was the movie you’d put on in your mind on those nights when sleep felt just out for reach. And like a snowflake, no two dreams had been the same.

But nothing you’d imagined could have ever topped the reality of this moment here and now.

Because there was nothing was better than being surrounded by three pink fluffy trees and looking forward to getting to spend a lifetime with Bradley Bradshaw.

“Well it’s convenient I fractured the right one,” you say with a watery laugh as a few happy tears escape from your eyes.

“I guess that is a lucky break,” he grins.

“Literally.”

You didn’t think it was possible to smile this wide. That you could be this happy.

“You still haven’t given me an answer yet, sweetheart,” he says, slightly squeezing your good hand.

“Haven’t I though?” you tease. There’s no what he doesn’t know what your answer is, not with the way you’re beaming.

“C’mon, let me hear you say it.”

You don’t make him wait for long.

“Yes, Bradley, yes I will marry you. It’ll always be a yes with you.”

You barely get to finish your sentence before he is shooting to his feet, pulling you into his arms and kissing you.

Your Bradley. Your fiancé.

On Christmas morning, after all the presents are unwrapped, you find yourself sitting under your perfectly pink tree surrounded by scraps of ribbons and bits of shiny wrapping paper.

Even your striped pink and white cast looked particularly festive under the gleam of the trees.

Rooster is in the kitchen making another pot of coffee for the two of you to share. You can hear him singing along to one of the vintage crooner Christmas albums you had gotten him.

You’ll be hosting Mav, Penny, and Amelia for dinner tonight. You let yourself enjoy this quiet of the mid-morning before things get chaotic. The two of you had dressed the oval oak dining table yesterday afternoon. The centerpiece you’d ordered from Nat’s now New Year’s Eve date was stunning, there were even a few white dahlias tucked into the arrangement. Thankfully, with no pine needles in sight.

The tall pillar candles had been moved off to the side and a real fire was popping in the hearth of the tiled fireplace. And the sun streaming through the bay windows is bouncing off that sparkly silver garland that you’d gotten Bradley to hang up for you in a way that makes the shiny wooden floors look like they’ve been scattered with specks of confetti.

The swirling, sparkling, shimmering dots on the ceiling, however, were from your own ring as you move and tilt your hand admiring the way the sun illuminates it. You know the matching pair of diamond earrings that Bradley had gotten for you as you Christmas gift are shining just as bright.

He still blushes whenever anyone teases him about forgetting to pull out the engagement ring he had got for you before he’d proposed. But you wouldn’t have changed anything about that moment for the world.

The marquise diamond had belonged to his mom, but he had had it reset in gold with a halo of diamonds around it for you. He’d even bought a pink velvet box to put it in for the occasion. It was easily the prettiest thing you’d ever seen and your heart still fluttered every time you saw it on your finger.

The two new trees are still only dressed with the many strands of lights that they’d arrived with. You learned that Bradley had enlisted Jake and Natasha to help him out with that particular surprise that day a couple weeks ago when he’d taken you on what you affectionately refer to as the 12 Dates of a Christmas Proposal.

Your favorite pink tree, the one he had gotten for you last year- the one you’re sitting under now- was also in possession of a new accessory. A shiny new pink ring pop ornament Bradley had gotten to commemorate the occasion of you saying yes and was hanging in a place of honor on the tree right between the little Hawaiian shirt ornament and the dainty, dangling ice skates.

Saying yes was the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

Yes to forever. Yes to him.

This season and every season.

You couldn’t wait to see what new ornaments would fill those trees by next year.

And the one after that.

And the next one after that.

Happy Holiday's! It's been almost a year since I've posted my very first story on here. I'm so thankful that a zoom kaboom plane movie has introduced me to so many wonderful people! Thank you for reading my stories and for all the support I've received over this last year! It has meant the world to me!

This story is set in the Oh, Christmas Tree universe. If you missed the fic that started it all, you can read it here!

Many thanks to Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) for so, so many reasons. I hope you enjoy this, this one's for you!

You can read my other stories here!

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