#delight windows near me

[delightwindow110]

Top uPVC Windows and Doors Manufacturers in Gurgaon

Delight Windows is a leading manufacturer of uPVC windows and doors in Gurgaon, specializing in high-quality, stylish, and energy-efficient designs. We offer effective noise cancellation solutions and durable products to enhance the aesthetic and security of your space.

[mythvoiced]

-. between work and leisure i've had so many british (mostly english) voices in my ears today that my inner voice distinctly sounds like some sort of cross between J.ame.s A.ca.ster and R.ich.ard A.yoa.de now please free me

[misswynters]

Ambessa spoiling her girly s/o just because

requested by. @seraphineandkamilahs2

Soft pink silks draped over a canopy bed, sparkling jewelry scattered across a vanity like fallen stars, and the gentle lyrics of your favorite song filled the air. Filling the room with color, looking like a kaleidoscope as the sound danced around the room. The new clothes Ambessa had bought for you were stacked neatly in boxes near the window, their luxurious fabrics peeking out like treasures waiting to be unveiled.

You twirled in the center of it all, your bare feet brushing against the plush rug, the silver bracelets on your wrists jingling with each movement. The world outside might have been grim, heavy with ambition and the weight of war, but in this moment, in this room, life was bright, simple, and carefree.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, a wide smile stretched across your face. “I love it all,” you whispered to no one in particular, your voice filled with joy. “She’s amazing.”

The music swelled, and you couldn’t resist. You danced with joy, your body swaying to the rhythm, your heart light. You were so lost in your little world that you didn’t notice the door creak open or the heavy footsteps that followed.

Ambessa Medarda stood in the doorway, her broad frame filling the space. Her usual imposing demeanor seemed more calm tonight, her face shadowed with exhaustion. The weight of her responsibilities clung to her like an invisible cloak, her sharp eyes dimmed with fatigue.

But as she leaned against the doorframe, watching you twirl and leap, something softened in her expression. You were radiant, your happiness infectious, and for a brief moment, the world’s burdens seemed a little less heavy.

“Enjoying yourself, I see,” Ambessa said, her deep voice cutting through the music.

You spun around, startled but delighted to see her. “Ambessa!” you cried, rushing toward her. Your arms wrapped around her waist as you buried your face against her chest. “You’re back!”

Her arms encircled you almost instinctively, though the gesture was far less enthusiastic. “Obviously,” she murmured, her tone weary. “I see you’ve been busy.”

You stepped back, gesturing toward the room. “Look at all of this! The dresses, the jewelry, you outdid yourself this time. I feel like a princess.”

Ambessa let out a low chuckle, her hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You are a princess,” she said simply, though her voice carried a hint of amusement.

Your smile faltered as you took in her tired features. The dark circles under her eyes, the way her shoulders slumped just slightly—it was clear that the day had been long and grueling.

“Ambessa,” you said softly, taking her hand in yours. “Come here.”

“What are you—?” she began, but you were already tugging her toward the center of the room.

“Dance with me,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I don’t dance,” she stated firmly, though there was a faint hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Yes, you do,” you countered, pressing your hands against her shoulders to guide her movements. “Tonight, you’re going to dance with me. No excuses.”

Ambessa sighed, though it was more for show than genuine protest. “You aren’t going to stop asking, are you?”

“Nope,” you teased, stepping closer so your bodies were almost touching. “Now, just follow my lead.”

You swayed gently, your hands resting on her broad shoulders as you encouraged her to move with you. At first, her steps were stiff, her body hesitant, but slowly, she began to relax. Her hands settled on your waist, her grip firm yet tender, and soon she was matching your rhythm.

“There,” you said, grinning up at her. “Not so bad, is it?”

Ambessa shook her head, her expression softening as she looked down at you. “This,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a rare vulnerability, “this is why I fell in love with you.”

Your breath hitched at her words, your heart swelling. “Aw! Ambessa…”

“You bring light,” she continued, her gaze unwavering. “In a world filled with shadows, you’re the one thing that reminds me there’s still joy to be had.”

You reached up, cupping her face in your hands. “My strong anchor,” you whispered.

For a moment, the two of you simply swayed together, the music a gentle backdrop to the sweet chemistry between you.

As the song shifted to something slower, more intimate, you leaned your head against her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart beneath your ear. “You work too hard,” you murmured.

Ambessa huffed a quiet laugh. “Someone has to keep the world turning.”

“Well you can take a break from all that, y’know.” you said, pulling back to look at her. “Let me take care of you the way you do to me, please.”

Her hand came up to rest against your cheek, her thumb brushing your skin. “You already do,” she said simply.

Later that night, after the music had faded and the room had grown quiet, you sat together on the edge of the bed. You leaned against her side, your head resting on her shoulder as she absently played with one of your bracelets.

“You really like them, don’t you?” she asked, her voice low.

“I absolutely love them,” you said, smiling. “But not as much as I love you.”

Ambessa turned her head to look at you, her expression unreadable. “You are sweeter than a piece of candy,” she said finally.

You shook your head, reaching up to touch her face. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in my life,” you said firmly. “And I’ll never mentioning it.”

Her lips quirked into a faint smile, and for the first time that night, the exhaustion in her eyes seemed to lift.She pulled you closer, curled you into her side, her arm wrapping around you protectively.

note. any mistakes let me know and i’ll fix it! thanks 🙏

taglist. @cestlaprincesa

banner @anitalenia

[satellite-evans]

Verano Argentino

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x reader

Summary: Franco taking his girlfriend to Argentina for the first time :)

Word count: 6k

Warnings: nothing but fluff

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The hum of the airplane engine softened as the wheels touched down in Buenos Aires. You glanced out the window, seeing the city stretch out under a pastel sunset. The sight was breathtaking, a blend of orange, pink, and lavender that painted the skyline. But the butterflies fluttering in your stomach made it hard to fully focus. This wasn’t just a vacation—it was a first in many ways. You were in Franco’s world now, stepping into a piece of his life that he’d always spoken of with such pride and warmth. The thought was equal parts exciting and nerve-wracking. Would his family like you? Would you fit into this place that clearly held so much of his heart?

As the plane taxied to the gate, Franco turned to you with a grin that lit up his face, his dark eyes shining with excitement. He gently squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in soothing circles. The small gesture grounded you.

“How does it feel to finally be in Argentina?” he asked, his voice soft but tinged with a palpable eagerness.

“It feels surreal,” you admitted, a small smile playing on your lips. “I can’t believe I’m actually here. I haven't seen anything yet, but I know it will be magical.”

Franco’s smile widened. “It gets even better, trust me, mi amor. Get ready because the adventure is just getting started.”

The plane came to a halt, and as the seatbelt sign dinged off, the cabin filled with the sound of passengers stretching, opening overhead compartments, and chatting. Franco leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, playful murmur. “And remember, if you get overwhelmed by my family, just give me a look. I’ll swoop in and save you.”

You laughed softly. “Thanks for the backup.”

As you disembarked, Franco took charge of the luggage, grabbing both your suitcase and his with ease. “I’ve got this,” he said, waving off your protests. “You just enjoy the moment.”

You stepped into the arrivals area, where a small crowd bustled around, families reuniting with hugs and cheerful voices. Standing near the back, a man and a woman held a handmade sign that read, “Bienvenida,!” with both your and Franco's name written on it. Franco’s parents, Aníbal and Andrea, waved enthusiastically when they saw you. Beside them was a younger girl, practically bouncing on her heels excitedly. Martina, Franco’s sister.

“There they are,” Franco said, his voice warm as he guided you toward them. “Ready?”

You nodded, your pulse quickening.

Andrea was the first to reach you, her arms opening wide as she enveloped you in a hug. It was warm and comforting, and she smelled faintly of lavender. She began speaking quickly in Spanish, her words spilling out in a flurry of excitement.

Franco leaned in, his cheek brushing against yours as he whispered a translation. “She says she’s so happy to finally meet you and that I’ve been talking about you non-stop.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you offered a shy, “Muchas gracias,” which earned you an approving nod and a wide smile from Andrea. Her eyes sparkled with delight as she held your hands for a moment longer, as if to absorb the reality of your presence.

Aníbal’s handshake was firm but friendly, his grip warm and steady. He spoke in accented English, his voice rich and deep. “Welcome to Argentina. It is a pleasure to have you here.”

“Thank you so much for having me,” you replied, grateful for his calm and reassuring demeanor.

Martina, however, couldn’t contain her energy. She darted forward and threw her arms around you in a quick but enthusiastic hug. “I’m Martina,” she said in clear English, her bright eyes darting between you and Franco. “So, this is your girlfriend,” she added with a mischievous grin, her tone teasing as she turned to her brother. “You’ve got good taste, hermano.”

Franco laughed, puffing out his chest in an exaggerated gesture of pride. “Of course I do. Did you expect anything less?”

Martina rolled her eyes but was clearly amused. “We’ll see if she survives dinner with the family,” she quipped, winking at you.

Franco groaned dramatically. “Don’t scare her off already!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at their banter. Despite your initial nerves, the warmth and energy of Franco’s family were already making you feel at ease. You exchanged a look with him, and he gave you a reassuring smile, as if to say, “See? I told you they’d love you.”

The ride to the Colapinto home was filled with laughter and chatter, the kind of easy, effortless conversation that only a close-knit family can share. Franco’s family, warm and welcoming, switched seamlessly between Spanish and English, ensuring you felt included in every exchange. His father, a jovial man with a booming voice, would joke in Spanish, while his mother, Andrea, would smile at you knowingly, making sure you understood the sentiment even if you didn't catch every word. Franco sat beside you in the backseat, his arm draped casually over your shoulder, the comfort of his touch a quiet reassurance.

Every so often, Franco would lean in, his lips close to your ear as he translated a joke or explained a comment made in Spanish, his breath warm against your skin. His voice, soft and intimate, made you feel as though you were the only one in the world.

“I love you so much,” he murmured, his fingers lightly tracing circles on your shoulder, the gentle pressure of his touch sending a warmth that spread through you. His thumb brushed your skin in a slow rhythm, sending little shivers down your spine as the car cruised down the sun-dappled streets.

You leaned into Franco, feeling his presence, his steady, comfortable energy. "It feels nice," you said softly, almost to yourself.

He gave a small, affectionate smile, squeezing your shoulder gently. “I knew you’d fit right in,” he said, his tone filled with quiet pride, and you couldn’t help but feel a deeper affection for him in that moment.

When the car pulled into the driveway, you were immediately struck by the home’s charm. It sat nestled in a quiet neighborhood, with the glow of the setting sun casting a light on the terracotta roof. Colorful tiles lined the pathway leading to the front door, and vibrant bougainvillea vines clung to the walls, their brilliant pink blossoms adding to the home’s already welcoming feel. You could already sense the warmth and love that filled this space, just from the beauty that surrounded it.

Andrea led the way, her steps light and purposeful as she ushered you inside. She spoke animatedly in Spanish, forgetting you couldn’t speak even tough Franco told her. And Franco, walking beside you, translated with ease, his voice calm and steady. He made sure to include you in every detail explaining that his mother would only speak in Spanish if she was too excited, as his mother proudly pointed out the little quirks of the house.

“This is where Martina and I used to play football,” he said, gesturing to the backyard where a weathered soccer ball lay forgotten on the grass. “We would run around for hours, trying to beat each other. We even had a goalpost set up here.”

The smile on Franco’s face grew softer, nostalgic, as he remembered those childhood days. His eyes met yours, and there was a tenderness in his gaze that made your heart skip a beat.

“And this is my mom’s pride and joy,” he continued, leading you toward the garden, “her garden.”

Andrea beamed with pride as you admired the rows of flowers and herbs. Her hands fluttered in the air, explaining the significance of each plant, from the rosemary that was said to bring good fortune to the lavender she used to make soaps. She spoke with a gentle warmth, the joy in her voice obvious as she shared stories of her garden’s growth.

Franco, leaning closer to you, chuckled quietly, his breath brushing against your cheek. “She’s telling you about the time I accidentally trampled her mint plants when I was a kid,” he whispered, his voice playful. “She still brings it up every chance she gets. ‘Franco, you ruined my mint,’ she says.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, glancing over at Andrea, who nodded emphatically, her expression a mixture of amusement and mild exasperation. "You never learn," she added, her eyes twinkling with affection. You could feel the family bonds here, the playful teasing, and the genuine love.

“Oh, really?” you teased back, glancing at Andrea as you wiped a mock tear from your eye. “Such a tragic mint disaster.”

Franco laughed, his arm still comfortably around your shoulder, pulling you slightly closer. “It was a disaster,” he said with a wink, “but she’s forgiven me.”

The tour continued inside, where Franco led you to his childhood room. You took in the modest space, the way it still held pieces of his past—racing car posters on the walls, trophies and medals carefully displayed on a shelf. The room had been a place where dreams had been born and nurtured, and you couldn’t help but smile as you ran your fingers over the polished metal of the trophies.

“Wow,” you said, genuinely impressed. “You were quite the athlete.”

Franco’s grin widened, and he stepped closer to you, the playful energy between you palpable. “Still am,” he replied, his voice dripping with confidence. He leaned in, his lips brushing the side of your neck as he whispered, “But these days, my best moves are off the track.”

Before you could respond, his lips found yours in a soft, lingering kiss. It was tender, filled with a quiet affection that made your heart race. When he pulled away, his eyes danced with that mischievous glint, and your cheeks warmed.

“What?” he asked innocently, his hands resting gently on your waist. “You’re cute when you blush.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re impossible,” you said, but the affection in your voice was undeniable.

Franco laughed, his eyes never leaving yours. He pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours, and for a moment, it was just the two of you—connected in this quiet, simple moment of joy. You could feel the depth of the bond you were beginning to share with him, the easy, unspoken affection that had already taken root in your heart.

"Come on, let me show you the rest of the house."

That evening, Franco’s family gathered around the dinner table, and the warmth of the atmosphere felt like a physical embrace. The house was alive with energy, voices mingling in a beautiful harmony, the air thick with the savory scents of grilled meats, fresh salads, and the unmistakable smell of empanadas. The table was an impressive spread, a feast that seemed to invite everyone to stay and share stories, laughter, and love.

Aníbal worked the grill with an ease that spoke of years of experience. His hands moved with confident precision, flipping steaks and sausages, while his deep laugh boomed across the backyard. Andrea and Martina flitted around the kitchen, preparing side dishes and making sure everything was perfect. You asked if you could help with anything, but they declined you immediately and said that they had everything under control. Their voices were like a symphony, creating a sense of inclusivity and warmth.

Franco, ever the attentive host, stayed close by your side and talked your ears off about F1 while he played with a strand of your hair. He would lean in every so often, his breath warm against your skin, and whisper a funny remark or a translation, filling in the gaps and ensuring you never felt left out. His hand would occasionally brush yours under the table, a subtle but constant reminder of his presence, and each small touch made your heart flutter.

Andrea turned her gaze toward you, her eyes soft and filled with curiosity. In the midst of the laughter and clinking glasses, she asked, “So, how did you guys meet? I keep asking Franco but he doesn't budge.” Her tone was kind, but there was a spark of genuine interest in her voice.

You felt your cheeks warm at the question, and before you could find your words, Franco leaned in, flashing you a playful grin and finally giving in. “I chased her down after a race,” he teased, his voice dripping with mock bravado. “I saw her standing with a bunch of her friends, but she was the only one that stood out, for me at least. Her hair, her smile. Her eyes were 100 percent more shiny than the moon that night. So I couldn't help myself and went after her. And she couldn’t resist my charm, of course.”

The family burst into laughter, but Martina raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with a mischievous smirk. “Oh really?” she said, her tone laced with humor. “Or was it the other way around?”

You couldn’t help but laugh along with them, the tension in your chest dissipating as you realized how at ease you were with Franco’s family. With a lighthearted shrug, you started recounting the real story of how you met. The way you’d first encountered each other at that event, the way Franco had been more focused on winning than on noticing anyone else, until he had finally caught your eye. His family listened intently, nodding and smiling as you shared your version of the story, and soon the conversation began to flow naturally, with everyone chiming in and taking turns asking questions.

Andrea asked you about your life back home, her eyes warm as she listened to you explain your culture and what you loved to do back home. By the time dessert came around, a homemade flan served with dollops of rich dulce de leche, you felt like you had known these people for years. You laughed at their stories, shared in their fondness for each other, and couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the warmth and genuine affection they exuded. They made you feel like one of their own, not just a guest in their home, and for the first time in a long while, you felt completely at ease, as if you truly belonged.

Later, after the table had been cleared and the evening’s conversations turned to soft murmurs, you and Franco headed up to his room. As you both prepared for bed, Franco pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms encircling you with a tenderness that was comforting and intimate. His chin rested on the top of your head as he whispered, “They really like you.”

You leaned into him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. “You think so?” you asked, a little uncertain.

“I know so,” he replied with a quiet certainty, kissing the top of your head. “When you went to the bathroom, they told me. Martina thinks you’re ‘ too cool for me,’ by the way.”

You giggled at the thought of his little sister’s approval, feeling your nerves melt away. His words were like a balm to your heart, reassuring you that you were more than just an outsider in their world. As you climbed into bed together, you whispered about the day, recounting moments of laughter and things you wanted to see in Argentina. But before you could fully drift off to sleep, Franco rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow to gaze at you.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, “I don’t think I’ve told you just how beautiful you looked today.”

You turned your head to face him, a smile tugging at your lips. “You might’ve mentioned it once or twice,” you said, narrowing your eyes playfully. “But I’m not complaining.”

Franco smirked, leaning down to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. His hand moved along your waist, pulling you closer as his lips deepened the kiss. His touch was gentle yet insistent, the way his fingers traced the curve of your spine sending shivers through you. The moment felt electric, the quiet of the room amplifying the intensity of his kiss, the way his lips moved against yours with increasing intent.

When his hand slipped to the small of your back, you pulled back slightly, your cheeks flushed. “Franco,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “We can’t. They can hear.”

He grinned, his dark eyes twinkling mischievously in the dim light. “So?” he teased, his lips grazing your ear. “Mama and Papa are heavy sleepers and my sister is probably busy watching tiktoks. They won't hear your moans.”

You gasped, a little flustered, “Franco!”

His laughter filled the space between you as he leaned in again. “Shh,” he said, kissing your lips lightly before nipping at your ear. “You’re going to wake them up if you keep talking.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could get a word out, he silenced you with another kiss. His hand cupped your cheek with a gentleness that contrasted his teasing nature, and in that moment, his confidence was like a force, making you forget the world outside the room. His lips moved to your neck, and you could feel his smile against your skin.

And then, as if the universe decided to make things even more dramatic, the door creaked open.

“Franco! I—oh my God!” Martina’s voice cut through the intimate moment like a thunderclap.

You froze, your face instantly heating up, and you scrambled to pull the covers up to your chin. Franco, on the other hand, didn’t even flinch. Instead, he flopped back onto the bed, covering his face with his hands as he burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“I just needed my jacket!” Martina squeaked, her voice high-pitched with embarrassment. She quickly grabbed the jacket from the chair by the door, her face a shade of red that almost matched the blush on yours. Without another word, she fled, slamming the door behind her.

You groaned, burying your face in the pillow. “I can’t believe that just happened,” you mumbled, half laughing, half mortified.

Franco turned his head toward you, still chuckling softly. “Why not? It’s not the first time,” he said, his grin teasing but full of affection.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension from the awkward interruption easing as the two of you shared this moment.

"Seriously, Franco, that was so embarrassing."

He grinned, brushing a strand of hair away from your face with a tenderness that contrasted with his earlier teasing. "It’s only embarrassing if you let it be. Besides, I’m pretty sure she’ll be too mortified to bring it up again anytime soon."

You glanced toward the door, half-expecting Martina to burst in again with more awkwardness. But there was nothing—just the lingering tension from the interruption and the weight of his words. “I guess you’re right,” you admitted, your fingers tracing absentminded patterns on the blankets. The only thing you wanted to do was sleep and forget that it ever happened.

The following morning, the sun poured in through the window, casting a warm light over the room. You woke up feeling disoriented for a moment, the unfamiliar sounds of birds outside and the gentle rustling of trees in the breeze signaling that you were no longer at home. Beside you, Franco stirred, his arm draped over your waist. His chest rose and fell with steady, rhythmic breaths, his presence comforting in the quiet of the early morning.

You smiled softly to yourself, memories of the previous evening flooding back—the laughter, the teasing, the way you felt so welcomed by his family. Despite the brief and awkward interruption by Martina, last night had been a success. You felt like you were becoming a part of something bigger than just a visit to a new country. You were beginning to feel like family.

You shifted slightly, careful not to wake Franco, and quietly slid out of bed. The coolness of the wooden floor greeted your bare feet as you stood up, and you stretched your arms above your head, yawning. You felt at peace, as though you could enjoy this moment forever—just you and Franco in this foreign city, with nothing but time and possibility ahead.

The aroma of fresh coffee reached you before you even stepped into the hallway. As you walked downstairs, you saw Andrea already bustling in the kitchen, humming softly as she prepared breakfast. She looked up when she saw you enter and greeted you with a bright smile.

"Good morning, querida," she said warmly, her hands moving gracefully as she flipped a few pancakes on the griddle. “I hope you slept well.”

“I did, thank you,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread in your chest at her kindness. You stepped further into the kitchen, drawn to the comforting scents of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling eggs. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Pancakes, scrambled eggs, and churros,” Andrea said, her voice carrying a hint of pride. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“I think I could eat everything you’ve made,” you said with a smile, your stomach already rumbling in anticipation.

Andrea chuckled. “Good. I’ll make sure there’s enough for everyone.” She poured a cup of coffee for you and handed it over. “I thought you might enjoy this before Franco wakes up.”

You took the coffee gratefully, savoring the rich aroma as you took your first sip. It was strong, just the way you liked it. For a moment, you stood there, simply soaking in the feeling of being surrounded by Franco’s family—this sense of belonging that was starting to settle in your chest.

Before you could settle into your thoughts, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Franco appeared in the doorway, his dark hair slightly messy from sleep. He looked half-awake but still incredibly handsome, his eyes sparkling with a lazy warmth. He stretched his arms above his head, letting out a small yawn.

“Morning,” he mumbled, a sleepy smile forming on his lips as he saw you standing by the counter.

“Good morning,” you replied, taking another sip of coffee. “Your mom’s made an incredible breakfast.”

Franco’s eyes immediately turned to the food, and his stomach gave an audible growl. “I didn’t know churros were on the menu,” he said, walking over to the griddle. “Mama, you’re spoiling me.”

“Don’t complain,” Andrea teased as she flipped another batch of pancakes. “You’ve been away for so long, you deserve a good breakfast.”

Franco grinned and turned to you. “I might just stay here forever if it means I get breakfast like this every day.”

You laughed, but there was a part of you that agreed with him. There was something so comforting about being here, surrounded by the warmth of family and the simple pleasures of a meal shared together.

The rest of the morning passed in a haze of laughter, delicious food, and easy conversation. After breakfast, Franco’s family insisted on showing you around Buenos Aires. It was a beautiful, sprawling city, full of color and life. You wandered through the cobbled streets, the city’s architecture blending colonial influences with modern design. You felt like you were walking through an art gallery with every step.

Franco was in his element, eager to share his love for his hometown with you. As you walked hand-in-hand, he pointed out landmarks he cherished, the small café where he and his friends used to hang out, the bookshop where he’d spent hours on lazy afternoons, and the street art that lined the walls of the city. You soaked it all in, fascinated by the rhythm of the city and how easily Franco moved through it, as though it were part of his very being.

“Do you like it here?” Franco asked, his voice casual as he leaned in a little closer to you.

“I love it,” you said with genuine enthusiasm. “It’s so vibrant. There’s so much life here.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Franco said with a smile, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. “I’m proud of my city, and I wanted to show you why.”

By the time the sun began to dip low in the sky, you had already explored so many new places that you felt like you could call Buenos Aires home.

That evening, you and Franco sat on the balcony of his house, overlooking the garden below. The evening breeze was cool against your skin, and the sky had shifted to a deep, star-filled navy. The two of you were wrapped in a blanket, with soft laughter and comfortable silence filling the space between you.

“What’s your favorite thing about this city?” you asked, your voice low as you nestled further into the warmth of Franco’s side.

Franco didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a moment to look out at the city below. The lights twinkled like a sea of fireflies, and the hum of the city life seemed so distant now, replaced by the peaceful quiet of the moment.

“I think it’s the energy,” he finally said, his voice thoughtful. “There’s a kind of pulse here, like the city is alive. It’s a place where anything can happen, where people chase their dreams and live for the moment.”

“I can feel that,” you said softly, your heart full as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

Franco’s hand found yours, his fingers curling around yours with an easy familiarity. You squeezed his hand in return, not knowing what the future held but knowing that, in this moment, everything felt perfect.

But just as the night seemed to settle into a peaceful lull, the sound of footsteps interrupted the moment. It was Martina again, her head poking out from behind the sliding glass door, a playful grin on her face.

“You two look cozy,” she teased, crossing her arms over her chest. “I hope you’re not making out on the balcony again.”

Franco groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Martina, go away,” he muttered, but you could tell he wasn’t really bothered.

“I’ll leave when I’m ready,” Martina shot back, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You two should try to get out of the house tomorrow. Buenos Aires has more to offer than just each other.”

You both chuckled, the awkwardness of the situation evaporating instantly. Franco, as if to save you both from further teasing, stood up and stretched. “We’ll go on an adventure tomorrow,” he promised. “But tonight, it’s just us.”

Martina raised her hands in mock surrender. “Fine. Have your moment, lovebirds,” she said with a wink before disappearing back inside.

You and Franco exchanged an amused glance before turning your attention back to the sky, the sound of the city below blending with the quiet rhythm of your shared breathing. The night was still, and for the first time in a long time, you felt at peace.

The next morning, you woke up feeling lighthearted and content. The warmth of Franco’s family had melted any lingering nerves, and today felt like the perfect opportunity for a little relaxation, just the two of you.

You had no idea what Franco had planned, but as he ushered you into the car that morning with an excited grin, you knew it was going to be something special. The drive was filled with playful chatter, the kind that had become second nature between the two of you. Franco kept glancing at you from time to time, giving you teasing smirks as he described the beach he was taking you to.

"I hope you like it. It's one of my favorite places to clear my head," he said, his voice warm with that familiar, easygoing confidence.

You raised an eyebrow. "Clear your head? I didn't take you for the beach type."

Franco shot you a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying the playful challenge. “Oh, trust me. I’m more than just a race car driver with a need for speed. Sometimes, I like to slow down, enjoy the simple things.”

You smirked, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “So, you’re saying you're a beach philosopher now?”

He gave a dramatic sigh. “I’m just trying to bring a little culture to your life, cariño,” he teased, calling you by the affectionate nickname he had already grown fond of using.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

Soon enough, the city gave way to open roads, and before long, the landscape shifted to a view of the ocean—an endless stretch of golden sand meeting the calm waves. As you both pulled into the parking lot, the salty breeze hit you, and you couldn't help but breathe in deeply, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace settle over you.

Franco was already out of the car, grabbing towels and a beach bag, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Come on, let’s go! You’re going to love this place,” he said, already pulling you toward the shore with that infectious enthusiasm of his.

You followed him to the water’s edge, feeling the warm sand beneath your feet as the sound of the waves intensified. It was as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

Franco turned to you, a wicked grin forming on his face. “Bet you can’t beat me to the water.”

You looked at him skeptically, already plotting your move. “You know I don’t have the competitive edge like you, but I’m not letting you get away with that.”

Before he could react, you dashed ahead, running toward the waves, feeling the rush of the cool sea spray against your legs. Franco laughed behind you, quick on your heels. You both reached the water at the same time, with him managing to grab your wrist just before you got fully submerged.

"Cheater," you muttered playfully, but Franco only flashed a grin.

“Gotta keep you on your toes, cariño,” he teased, his hand never leaving your waist as you stood in the shallows, the waves rolling gently around your ankles. “You’re too cute when you get competitive.”

You shot him a mock glare, crossing your arms. “I’m competitive when I want to be.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “I’ve noticed.”

The warmth of the sun on your skin and the coolness of the water felt like the perfect combination, and soon the playful banter faded into a comfortable silence as you both soaked in the beauty of the moment. Franco’s fingers gently tugged at a lock of your hair, his voice soft.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You laughed lightly, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh, please. You’re not getting all mushy on me now, are you?”

He grinned, pulling you closer, his gaze full of affection. “You’re not letting me get away with anything today, huh?”

“Well, you did challenge me to a race to the water,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I have to keep you in check.”

Franco laughed, the sound rich and warm. “Fair enough.” He paused for a moment, gazing at you with a tender expression. “But seriously, you’ve made everything better since you got here. I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and you smiled softly. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

The two of you spent the afternoon in the water and on the beach, laughing, talking, and enjoying each other’s company. Franco showed off his stone-skipping skills—though he did “accidentally” pretend to miss one just so you could give it a try.

“Not bad, huh?” Franco said with a wink after you got a few decent skips across the water. “I’ve got some moves.”

“You just wait, I’ll be skipping stones like a pro soon enough,” you said confidently, and Franco grinned.

You continued to trade playful jabs and laughs with each other. It felt like time had slowed down, and you didn’t want it to end. Franco was as playful as he was affectionate, constantly pulling you into small hugs, kissing the top of your head, or whispering jokes in your ear. Every little moment was filled with genuine warmth, making you feel more and more at home.

The heat of the Argentinian sun was burning your skin the same like you arrived hours ago, so Franco suggested another swim. You didn’t hesitate. Without a word, he took your hand and led you back into the ocean, both of you letting the waves carry you along.

The two of you floated in the water, the rhythm of the waves calming, and you both began to laugh over the little things, the world outside the water feeling like a distant memory. Franco’s fingers gently brushed against yours, the touch sending warmth through you even as the cool sea embraced you.

As you swam a little further out, you could see Franco's playful glint return. “Race again?” he teased.

“Not a chance,” you said with a grin, then swam toward him, only for him to pull you into the gentlest of holds, twirling you as you both spun in the sea.

“Maybe not now, but you’ll regret it later,” Franco whispered with a wink.

You laughed, feeling completely at ease as the sea surrounded you both.

Later, as you returned to the beach to rest in the shade, you dug into the bag beside you, pulling out sunscreen. “Time to help out the little boy,” you joked, grinning as you held the bottle in front of Franco.

He raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. “You really want to help me out, huh?”

“What can I say, I’m a giver,” you said with a wink, before squirting sunscreen into your hands.

As you rubbed it onto his back, you couldn’t help but notice how natural this felt. His skin was warm under your touch, and his eyes closed as he relaxed into your hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever been pampered quite like this,” he muttered with a lazy smile.

“Good thing I’m here to change that,” you teased, smoothing the lotion down his arms, making sure every inch was covered.

“You know,” Franco said with a grin, “You should consider adding ‘sunscreen expert’ to your resume.”

You rolled your eyes, still laughing as you finished. “You’re lucky you’re cute, or I might not have done it.”

Franco leaned over, his lips brushing your cheek in a soft kiss. “Gracias cariño, I love it when you take care of me.”

Eventually, the two of you relaxed further into the beach towels. Franco sprawled out beside you while you read, the sun warming your skin as the breeze whispered through the palm trees. When your eyelids began to droop, Franco was quick to notice, and without a word, he shifted beside you, propping himself up on his side. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep,” he said softly. “Want to take a nap?”

You smiled, feeling so content you could easily drift away in his arms. “Just for a little while…”

Franco opened his arms, inviting you to rest your head on his chest. You gladly took the offer, snuggling in close as the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat and the soft ocean waves lulled you to sleep.

After a few hours, you woke to find the sun setting, and the sky was painted in brilliant hues of orange and purple. You both stood, stretching and shaking off the sleepiness as you packed up. Franco grinned, wrapping an arm around you as the two of you walked back to the car.

And as you both headed back, the evening sky above you and the warmth of his hand in yours, it felt like the world was in exactly the right place.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

childhood sweethearts and paper rings ⋆˚࿔

synopsis ⭑.ᐟ james potter x reader where you both realize your love through paper rings

warnings: fluff overload, pining, a sprinkle of angst but resolved quickly, excessive paper rings

word count: 3,438 words

inspired from: (a bit) ➺ paper rings by taylor swift ♡

author's note: childhood best friends to lovers is james potter’s ultimate trope. argue with the wall

navigation┆james potter masterlist┆request here 𝜗𝜚

James Potter was seven years old when he decided that he was going to marry you. He didn’t understand much about marriage—only that it meant you’d be together forever, which sounded like the best thing in the world. After all, you were his best friend, and if forever wasn’t you, then who else could it be for?

The Potters and your family were close friends, and most weekends, you were bundled into the fireplace to floo to their house. James would meet you on the other side, grinning wildly and already tugging your arm to drag you outside. The two of you were inseparable, whether you were building forts in the garden or chasing each other around with toy brooms.

“Sunny, you’re supposed to catch it!” James exclaimed one summer afternoon as he tossed a quaffle your way. His glasses slid down his nose, and he pushed them up impatiently.

“I’m trying!” you yelled back, laughing as the ball sailed past your outstretched arms. You were too busy giggling to notice James running to retrieve it. He came back with dirt on his knees and his hair even messier than usual.

“We’ll practice until you’re as good as me,” he declared, puffing out his chest in mock importance.

You scrunched up your nose, sticking your tongue out at him. “What if I don’t want to be good at Quidditch? What if I want to be the best cake-eater in the world?”

James grinned, his own cheeks turning pink. “Then I’ll be the second-best. We can do it together.”

By the time you were eight, James had discovered the fine art of crafting paper rings. It started when he saw his mum making origami flowers for a party. Naturally, he wasn’t allowed near the good parchment—but his dad handed him some scraps, and the rest was history.

The first paper ring James gave you was lopsided, crumpled at the edges, and had a faint ink smudge from where he’d tried to draw a flower on it. You’d accepted it with wide, delighted eyes, slipping it onto your finger like it was made of gold.

“What’s this for?” you’d asked, holding it up to inspect the crooked folds.

“It’s…” James hesitated, suddenly bashful. “It’s a promise. You’re my best friend, and I’ll always be there for you.”

You grinned so brightly he thought his chest might burst. “I’ll always be there for you too, Jamie!” you chirped, and the name stuck, much to his parents’ amusement.

At nine, you and James built a treehouse. Or at least, you started to. James had insisted on using magic, and after much begging and wheedling, his mum had charmed a few planks of wood into place.

“It’ll be our secret hideout,” James said as you hammered nails into the rickety ladder.

“For what?” you asked, holding the ladder steady. Your hair was sticking to your forehead, and there was a streak of mud on your cheek, but you couldn’t have been happier.

“For… secret plans,” James decided. “Like how we’ll sneak extra pudding without anyone noticing.”

You beamed. “And maybe we can put all the paper rings here too. Like a treasure chest!”

He thought that was the best idea ever.

By ten, James had made you more paper rings than either of you could count. Some were decorated with little doodles, others with clumsy attempts at flowers or hearts. You kept them all in a shoebox under your bed, treasuring them like the precious artifacts they were.

One rainy afternoon, you and James sat cross-legged on the rug in his room, watching the droplets streak down the window.

“Sunny,” James said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Do you know what love is?”

You tilted your head, considering. “Not really. I think it’s when someone makes you really happy. Like my mum when she bakes my favorite cookies.”

James nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. I think it’s when someone does things for you. Like… like when you gave me the bigger half of your pie last week.”

You grinned, your toothy smile making his cheeks heat up. “Then I think love is when you gave me your scarf when I was cold.”

He grinned back, lopsided and bright. “Maybe love is when we’re best friends forever.”

When you turned eleven, everything began to change. A letter arrived, delivered by an official-looking owl, and James practically dragged you across the room to celebrate.

“We’re going to Hogwarts together!” he exclaimed, lifting you off the ground in his excitement. “This is going to be the best year ever!”

You squealed, clutching onto him as he spun you around. “Jamie, I’m so excited!”

Later that day, he gave you another paper ring. It was neater this time, folded carefully with gold-trimmed parchment he’d begged off his mum.

“This one’s special,” James said solemnly as you slipped it onto your finger.

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Because it’s the last one before Hogwarts,” he said. “But I’ll make you loads more when we’re there.”

You beamed, clutching the ring to your chest. “Best friends forever?”

“Forever,” he promised.

And that was the thing about James Potter. Even when he didn’t fully understand what love was, he knew one thing: it was always going to be you.

At Hogwarts, you quickly became part of the infamous Marauders. James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and you. Whether it was sneaking into the kitchens for late-night snacks or plotting pranks on the Slytherins, the five of you were inseparable.

James had a knack for getting the group into trouble, and you had a knack for talking your way out of it.

“It’s not my fault Snape looks so funny when his robes turn pink,” James argued one day, as you all hid in an empty classroom after a particularly successful prank.

“You used an entire bottle of dye,” Remus pointed out dryly, though he was biting back a smile.

“Totally worth it,” Sirius said, high-fiving James.

Peter chuckled nervously. “Do you think he’ll ever figure out it was us?”

“Who cares?” you said, laughing. “Jamie, you’re brilliant.”

James beamed at your praise, his grin so wide it threatened to split his face.

But while James was fearless in most things, there was one subject that turned him into a bumbling mess: Lily Evans, although you understood the feeling, cause she was gorgeous.

“Merlin’s beard, just look at her,” James sighed dreamily one afternoon as the five of you sat under a tree by the Black Lake. Lily was a few yards away, reading a book and flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“You’re staring again,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

James turned red. “I am not!”

“You absolutely are,” Sirius chimed in, smirking. “If you’re going to pine, at least do it with some dignity, Prongs.”

“I’m not pining!” James protested, though his voice cracked slightly.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “You drew a heart with her initials in your Transfiguration notes yesterday.”

“I did not!” James said, horrified.

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “You did. I saw it too.”

You burst out laughing, leaning into James as he groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Jamie, it’s okay to have a crush. Especially if it's on Evans. I do too but the difference is you’re terrible at hiding it.”

“You lot are the worst,” he muttered, though he couldn’t hide the small smile creeping onto his face.

Despite the relentless teasing, you were always James’ biggest supporter. When he finally worked up the courage to ask Lily out in your fifth year, you were the one who gave him the pep talk beforehand.

“You’re James Potter,” you said firmly, gripping his shoulders. “You’re charming, funny, and completely brilliant. If she doesn’t say yes, it’s her loss.”

James smiled nervously. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you said confidently.

And even though a small part of you felt a twinge of something you couldn’t quite name, you pushed it aside. Because James was your best friend, and you’d always be there for him—just like he’d always be there for you.

It happened gradually, so slowly that you didn’t notice at first. The paper rings, once a constant in your life, became fewer and fewer. By sixth year, they stopped altogether. You told yourself it didn’t matter—after all, you and James were still thick as thieves. He was busy with Quidditch, the Marauders, and his relentless pursuit of Lily Evans.

But deep down, you missed them.

Then one day, an owl from your parents arrived during breakfast in the Great Hall. You tore open the envelope eagerly, only to feel your stomach drop as you read the letter.

The treehouse at the Potters burned down.

Your chest ached as you reread the words. The treehouse, your secret hideout, the place where you’d kept all the paper rings James had ever given you—gone. Reduced to ashes.

You left the Great Hall in a daze, clutching the letter as tears blurred your vision. It wasn’t just a treehouse. It was years of memories, laughter, and promises that now felt lost forever. You needed to tell James. He would understand.

You found him in the courtyard, a broad grin on his face as he spoke animatedly to Lily. She was laughing, her green eyes sparkling in the sunlight, and for a moment, you hesitated.

Then you saw it: a paper ring in his hand. Your heart clenched painfully as he turned it over in his fingers, showing it to Lily with the same excitement he’d once reserved for you.

You felt a lump form in your throat. It was silly, really. You’d known for years that James fancied Lily. You’d encouraged him, teased him, supported him. And yet, seeing him with a paper ring—your paper ring—meant for her…

It felt like losing a part of yourself.

You turned on your heel and walked away before he could see you, the letter crumpled in your hand. As you hurried back to the common room, you tried to push the image from your mind, but it clung stubbornly.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. Maybe Lily had finally agreed to a date. Maybe the ring wasn’t even for her. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

But the ache in your chest told a different story.

You didn’t sleep much that night. The weight of the treehouse’s destruction—and the memories it held—pressed heavily on your chest. When morning came, you dragged yourself to breakfast, your usual bubbly demeanor dimmed.

James was already there, sitting with Sirius, Remus, and Peter, recounting some Quidditch play. He caught sight of you as you approached, and his grin faltered.

“Morning, sunny,” he greeted, nudging the bench beside him. “You look like you didn’t sleep a wink.”

You plopped down next to him, twisting the edge of your sleeve. “James… the..the treehouse, it burned down.”

His face froze, confusion quickly giving way to shock. “What?” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

You handed him the crumpled letter. He read it, his expression shifting to heartbreak. “Our treehouse? The one we built with my mum’s old cushions and all the fairy lights?”

You nodded, your throat tight. “All the paper rings… they were in there, James.”

For a moment, he just stared at the letter. Then, without warning, he pulled you into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around you like they used to when you were kids, and you buried your face in his shoulder, letting the familiar scent of parchment and pine comfort you.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t think—I didn’t realize—”

You missed the way his breath hitched, his soft oh of realization. Missed the quick glance he threw across the table to Lily, whose knowing gaze met his. Her lips curled into the faintest smile, as if she understood something neither of you had quite pieced together yet.

But you were too caught up in the hug, too lost in your own heartbreak to notice anything else.

James Potter was not one to do things halfway. The moment he realized how much those paper rings had meant to you, he made it his mission to bring them back into your life in abundance. It started small—a single paper ring folded neatly and tucked into your Potions book during class.

“James,” you whispered, holding it up with an amused smile. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”

“Trouble’s my middle name,” he whispered back, grinning mischievously before turning back to Slughorn’s lecture like he hadn’t just slid a tiny masterpiece of folded parchment into your life.

But James Potter didn’t stop at small. Soon, the paper rings started appearing everywhere. One in your bag during Transfiguration. Another tucked into your scarf at breakfast. A stack of them slid under your pillow one night. He even charmed one to float down from the owlery like a paper snowflake as you walked past.

The grandest moment came during Defense Against the Dark Arts. James, thinking he was being discreet, crept over to your desk mid-lecture to slip a particularly colorful ring onto your parchment. Just as he leaned down, a shadow loomed over both of you.

“Ahem,” Professor McGonagall’s sharp voice cut through the room like a knife. The class went silent, every head swiveling to witness James Potter caught red-handed.

James straightened, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Just delivering a very important piece of classwork, Professor,” he said smoothly, holding up the paper ring as if it were a prized essay.

McGonagall’s lips twitched, though she worked hard to suppress a smile. “Very well, Mr. Potter. But if I catch you again, you’ll be writing lines until your quill runs out of ink.”

“Yes, Professor,” James said solemnly, though his wink to Sirius betrayed him.

As McGonagall turned back to the blackboard, you swore you saw her glance over her shoulder and wink—wink—at you. For a moment, you questioned your sanity.

By the end of the week, you had more paper rings than you knew what to do with. You didn’t have the heart to throw them away—not after all the effort James had gone to—so you started collecting them in an old chocolate box you found in your dorm.

Every night, you added the day’s rings to the collection, tracing your fingers over the creases and folds as you smiled to yourself. It was ridiculous, really. They were just bits of paper, after all. But each one felt like a tiny promise—a reminder of a boy who made the world brighter simply by being in it.

It was another morning at the Gryffindor table, and James was unusually quiet. Normally, he’d be drumming his fingers on the table, bantering with Sirius, or laughing at something Peter said. But today, he was poking at his eggs, lost in thought.

Remus noticed first. Of course, he did. “You haven’t mentioned Lily in a while,” he remarked, raising an eyebrow. “What happened? Did she finally hex you into silence?”

Sirius barked a laugh, and Peter snorted into his pumpkin juice. But James just shrugged, looking nonchalant.

“Oh, yeah, about that,” he said casually, as if he weren’t about to drop a bombshell. “Well… that’s not happening.”

Your fork clattered onto your plate. “Really?” you blurted, a little too loudly. You immediately ducked your head, heat rushing to your cheeks.

James smirked, but it wasn’t his usual mischievous one—it was softer, more thoughtful. “Yeah, she kind of pointed out that I might have feelings for someone else.”

The table went silent. Even Sirius, who rarely let anything keep him quiet for long, was staring at James in surprise.

“And?” Remus prompted, leaning forward like he already knew the answer.

“And I realized… she was right,” James admitted, his voice quieter now.

“Oh,” you said softly, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing. “That’s… interesting.”

“Yeah,” James said, turning to look at you with a curious expression. “It is.”

For a moment, his hazel eyes seemed to search yours, like he was trying to figure out if you knew what he meant—if you felt the same.

But before he could say anything else, Sirius, who clearly couldn’t handle the suspense, interrupted with a loud, “So, who’s the lucky person, Prongs? Don’t leave us hanging!”

James flushed, the tips of his ears turning pink as he grabbed a piece of toast and stuffed it into his mouth, muttering something unintelligible.

“Oh, come on,” Sirius teased, elbowing him. “Out with it, mate!”

But James just shook his head, laughing nervously. “Not telling,” he mumbled through a mouthful of toast.

The conversation shifted after that, Sirius dragging Peter into a heated debate about whether or not owls secretly judged their owners, and you found yourself staring at your plate, your thoughts spinning.

You didn’t know what to make of James’ words. Who was he talking about? Was it someone you knew? Was it… you?

You glanced at James out of the corner of your eye. He was laughing now, teasing Peter about his messy handwriting, but there was something different about him—something softer.

You pushed the thought away. It couldn’t be you. Could it?

The Owlery was quiet, save for the soft hoots of the owls roosting in their perches. You had just tied your letter to your parents onto a barn owl’s leg, stroking its feathers as it took off into the morning light. Beside you, James was doing the same, his handwriting as messy as ever but filled with his usual warmth and charm.

As his owl soared into the sky, you lingered by the ledge, watching the horizon. James leaned beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was comfortable, the kind that came with years of friendship. But you couldn’t stop thinking about breakfast, about what he’d said, and about the way he’d looked at you.

“So,” you started, your voice soft, “this… someone else you might have feelings for.”

James froze, his hands gripping the stone ledge. “Oh,” he said, his voice an octave higher than usual. “That.”

You turned to face him, your heart thudding in your chest. “Yeah, that.”

James rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “Right. Well…” He hesitated, his usual confidence faltering. “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated how?” you asked, taking a step closer.

He glanced at you then, his hazel eyes searching yours. “Because, well because it’s you,” he said quietly.

The words hung in the air, delicate and trembling. You stared at him, your mouth slightly open in surprise. “Me?”

“Yeah,” James said, his cheeks flushing pink. “It’s always been you, I think. I just… didn’t realize it until Lily pointed it out. And then when I thought about it—about us—it just made sense, you know? You’ve always been there. You’ve always been you.”

Your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “James…”

“I know it might be weird,” he said quickly, misinterpreting your silence. “And if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I just thought you should know, because I—”

“I feel the same,” you blurted out, cutting him off.

He blinked at you, his mouth hanging open. “You do?”

You nodded, a shy smile spreading across your face. “I do.”

For a moment, James just stared at you, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Then, slowly, his lips curled into the biggest, brightest grin you’d ever seen.

“Brilliant,” he said softly, almost to himself.

You laughed, the sound light and bubbly, and he joined in, his joy infectious. Before you knew it, he was stepping closer, his hand reaching for yours.

“I, uh, don’t have a proper ring,” he said, his voice nervous but warm. “But…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar folded strip of parchment.

Your breath hitched as he gently slipped the paper ring onto your finger, his touch lingering. “There,” he said, his smile soft and a little shy. “Perfect.”

You looked down at the ring, your chest swelling with warmth. It was so James—simple, sweet, and utterly wonderful.

“Perfect,” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

When you looked up, he was already watching you, his hazel eyes filled with something so soft and tender it made your knees weak.

“Does this mean you’re stuck with me?” you teased, your cheeks aching from how hard you were smiling.

“Forever, if you’ll have me,” James said, grinning.

And as the owls cooed above and the sunlight bathed the two of you in gold, you knew you would. Forever and always.

© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.

[mimiii-3]

saboteur has been on my mind recently and lives rent free.. What will happen IF batsib escapes with darling to spite the batfam for neglecting them? Like get rid of every tracker, remove all traces that they were there, move to a place far away that they won't be able to find both of them? Like a far away country or something..

I like the way you think!

…

Saboteur: Two Most Wanted

Yandere Platonic Batfam x GN Neglected Reader

Notes: typical yandere themes, platonic friend/sibling relationship between darling and batsib

…

What if batsib, reeling from the family confrontation, snuck darling out of the manor…

🦇

Being the least favorite Wayne has its perks. You can snoop around the bat cave, explore the manor grounds, and more without a single glance your way. That includes finding the weak point in the manor’s security system.

You slip through a small pass tucked between a dying tree and a thorn-covered shrub. You duck your head and run across the inembellished yard. You stop just below a barred window, the yellow light peeking between the iron rods.

You reach down and grab a small handful of pebbles to throw at the window. Each pebble ricochets lightly off the window, falling to the damp grass below.

It isn’t until the eighth stone that you see movement behind the window. Darling, a meek little thing, peers down at you from their prison. Their eyes light up when they see your face.

“Good,” you think. Bruce and the others must not have told them what you did. You raise your hand and point to the nearest back door of the manor.

Darling nods in excitement before disappearing from view. You briskly walk to the back door that nears the East side of the manor. You crouch behind a potted plant and wait for Darling.

Darling approaches the door and waves excitedly. You return their smile before holding up a pair of garden shears. Darling nods and readies their hand on the doorknob.

Darling wears a collar with a tracker in it. You’ll have a small window of about thirty seconds to cut the collar off before Tim is alerted. The bat boys kept the collar breakable in case of an emergency.

You breathe out slowly then mouth ‘now’ to Darling. Darling throws open the door and slips a finger between the collar and their neck. The shears easily cut the collar and you toss it back into entryway.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” Darling squeals in delight before hugging you. You shush them quickly and grab their hand. The two of you dart across the yard, back to the opening you found.

You drag Darling through the dense wood behind the manor. Your car sits on the side of the road, nearly invisible sitting in the dark of night. You usher Darling into the passenger seat then make your way to the driver’s.

The car roars to life as you turn the key in the ignition. You press your foot against the gas pedal and fly down the empty road.

Darling turns to you, tears brimming in their youthful eyes. “Why did you save me?” Darling sniffles pathetically, “Tim said that you left me.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at Tim’s blatant manipulation. You were gone less than a day and he already tried to ruin your friendship with Darling. You gather your thoughts before pacifying Darling, “No, Button. You know I would never leave you. I just…needed to get away for a little. That’s all.”

You watch them visibly perk up after hearing the nickname you gave them. Darling wipes their eyes with the sleeve of their oversized sweater. “Well now that I know you still like me, where do we go from here?” Darling reaches for your hand on the armrest and holds it in theirs.

A mischievous smile makes its way across your face as the car merges onto the highway. You peek at Darling out of the corner of your eye, “What do you think about Metropolis?”

…

Extra Notes: batsib has a friend (or love interest????) in metropolis they think might help🤭

[ahqkas]

“HE MOVES MOUNTAINS AND POUNDS THEM TO GROUND AGAIN — bruce wayne.

PAIRING! bruce wayne 𝒙 fem!reader SYNOPSIS! bruce likes to spoil you, especially during christmas WORD COUNT! 3.4k WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, bruce ‘let me spoil my girl’ wayne + lmk if more! NOTES! wanna be spoiled by a rich guy sb , header bellow belongs to @/v6que © ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE STREETS OF GOTHAM, OFTEN SO COLD AND CRUEL WERE CHANGED UNDER THE FIRST TRUE SNOWFALL OF THE SEASON. Blankets of pristine white coated the rooftops, softening the jagged skyline into something almost whimsical. The sidewalks were a patchwork of footprints and slush, as bustling crowds meandered through the early morning chill. Each breath of air carried the scent of roasted chestnuts from a nearby stand, mingling with the crisp bite of snow.

Children’s laughter rang out in bursts, slicing through the muffled quiet that came with the falling flakes. A group of them had gathered at the corner of Robinson Park, throwing handfuls of powdery snow at one another while some tilted their heads back, tongues outstretched, hoping to catch a flake or two. Their squeals of delight painted the city in a light Gotham rarely allowed itself to wear.

Storefronts glowed with soft, twinkling lights, festive decorations hanging from doorways and window displays dressed in shimmering reds and golds. Every shop seemed to beckon, promising warm escapes and holiday cheer, from tiny mom-and-pop bookstores to designer boutiques with mannequins posed elegantly in the latest winter fashion. Salvation Army bells jingled near donation buckets, blending with the soft hum of carolers just off the main avenue.

The energy was infectious—families strolled arm in arm, couples leaned into one another for warmth, and even the loneliest passerby seemed to walk with a lighter step.

Christmas was approaching.

That was how you found yourself walking arm in arm with Bruce, the world narrowing to the warmth of his presence beside you despite the winter chill. His grip on your arm was steady and sure, his hand a comforting weight where it rested over yours. Even through your gloves, you could feel the faintest trace of his warmth, a contrast to the icy air that kissed you cheeks.

He guided you effortlessly through the busy crowd of people, and his towering frame acted as an anchor amidst the chaos. You noticed the way heads turned, how people instinctively parted to let him through—not just because he was Bruce Wayne, the name that commanded attention, but because he carried himself with a quiet, natural authority. Still, his touch on your arm was gentle, not hurried, as though he had no place to be except here with you.

“Do you think it’s going to stick?” you asked, nodding toward the layer of snow coating the rooftops and trees. Your breath slipped through your lips in visible puffs.

Bruce glanced skyward, his eyes softening in the glow of string lights overhead. “It’s Gotham,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smile. “The snow never lasts long. But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it while it’s here.”

There was something so rare about seeing him like this—relaxed, his usual sharp focus softened by the holiday atmosphere. His other hand reached up briefly, brushing a stray snowflake from her your before it could melt, his touch so natural it made your heart stutter. “You’ll let me know if you’re getting cold, won’t you?” he added, his gaze flickering down to you, concern laced in his words.

You tilted your head, a playful smirk curving your lips as you glanced up at him. “I’m fine, Bruce. I’ve survived Gotham winters before.”

The words were teasing, but when he looked down at you with that gentle, pointed expression—his brow slightly furrowed, lips tight with that quiet intensity—you felt the weight of it, as always. It was as if he could see through you, straight into your heart, expecting an answer more than just your usual wit. He always wanted to hear it. A simple reassurance, whether you were okay in his arms after a quality night with him or sharing a quiet moment in the middle of the city’s frenzy.

Your smile softened as you met his gaze, the teasing edge fading into something more genuine. “I’m okay,” you assured him quietly, words a whisper that seemed to linger in the cold air between the two of you. “Really.”

Bruce’s expression softened, but there was still that hint of concern in his eyes, the faintest crease in his brow. His lips parted for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. “I know you are,” he admitted. “But I like hearing it anyway.”

Your heart fluttered, and you gave him a soft, affectionate smile before he shifted his attention. Bruce pulled his phone from the pocket of his coat, the sleek device easily fitting in his hand, and he flicked through it with practiced ease. The light from the screen cast a subtle glow across his sharp features, revealing the concentration as he scanned his list.

“Alright,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Alfred’s gifts—need to pick up something special for him . . . then there’s Damian, Dick . . . Jason . . . oh, and Tim.” He paused, scrolling through the notes app, his brow furrowing just a little as he went over his meticulous list of people to buy for. “It’s harder than it sounds—every one of them has something they’ll really like.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the contrast between his usual effortless decisiveness and the almost comical way he planned out every detail. It was such a Bruce thing to do, and yet it was endearing in its own right. “It’s just shopping, Bruce,” you teased. “You’ve got enough money to buy Gotham if you really wanted. Just get them whatever’s shiny and expensive.”

He shot you a glance, lips quirking into a barely-there smile. “Not for them,” he replied, voice thoughtful. “They’re not impressed by the shiny stuff. I want to get something meaningful, even if they act like they don’t care.”

Your teasing smile faded into something softer, touched by the sincerity in his words. He was always thoughtful, always careful, and it was something you’d grown to admire more than anything else. But you still had to comment, your voice light again to keep things from becoming too serious.

“Alright then,” you said with the twinkle in your eyes Bruce adored to see, “just don’t forget the part where you buy me something too. You know, for the ‘special girl’ in your life?”

The man gave you a look, not quite amused but not entirely serious either, his fingers scrolling on his phone as he half-listened. “Of course. You’re on the list, don’t worry.”

The way he said it, though, with that glimmer of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, let you know he was absolutely serious with it. And you knew, in his own quiet, understated way, Bruce would spoil you just as much—if not more—than anyone else.

As you continued in your stroll down the street, the quiet chatter of the crowd around thr two of you felt like distant noise, a soft hum that blurred into the background as your gaze drifted to one of the storefront windows. Nestled in the corner of the display was a delicate bracelet—its silver links shimmering beneath the soft glow of the shop’s warm lights. Each facet of the small diamonds glistened, catching the light just right, creating a mesmerizing sparkle that seemed to draw you in without you even realizing it.

Your heart skipped a beat as you took a step closer, breath caught in your throat as you admired the elegance of the piece. It was everything you loved—simple, yet exquisite, with just the right amount of subtle luxury. You could already imagine it on your wrist, the way it would catch the light, how it would complement the delicate necklace you wore around your neck. But, of course, you couldn’t be too obvious.

You quickly forced your feet to move, pulling your gaze away with an almost guilty glance toward Bruce. You could feel the warmth of his presence beside you, and you tried your best not to linger too long, not wanting him to see the longing in your eyes. It wasn’t like you wanted him to buy it for you—you weren’t the type to ask for extravagant things—but the thought of having something so beautiful . . . well, it made your heart ache just a little.

But of course, Bruce noticed.

He always did.

Without skipping a beat, he slowed his pace to match yours, his sharp eyes flicking toward the window where you had just stopped. He said nothing at first, but his gaze was keen, taking in the way your attention had been captured by the bracelet. It didn’t take much to read the silent longing in your eyes, and though he didn’t say a word, his lips twitched upward in that knowing, almost amused way he often did when he could see through you better than you could see yourself.

“Something catched your eye?”

You turned to face him, offering a quick, almost embarrassed smile. “Oh, it’s nothing, really,” you waved a hand dismissively, though you couldn’t quite hide the faint blush creeping up your cheeks. “Just . . . admiring.”

Bruce tilted his head slightly, as if debating whether to push you further or let it slide, but his gaze never left yours for a moment. “You know,” he started, his voice low, with a hint of amusement. He was enjoying the moment. “I’m pretty sure I could arrange for that bracelet to be . . . yours, if you really like it.”

Your heart skipped again, and you couldn’t help but laugh, though the sound was breathless. “Bruce, you don’t—”

“Don’t what?” he interrupted, his gaze flicking back to the bracelet. “You deserve something beautiful.”

You met his eyes, a warmth blossoming in your chest at the way he spoke so naturally, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. You didn’t need to ask. He’d already thought it through, already seen something you hadn’t even let yourself admit.

Bruce, as always, seemed to be one step ahead of her.

Before you could protest, he gave your hand a gentle but firm tug, guiding you toward the shop entrance with a determined stride. Your protests, half-hearted as they were, barely made it past your lips before you found yourself caught in his wake.

“I don’t think I need anything,” you started, but the words felt flimsy as he nudged open the door for you to enter first, the warm air from inside the shop spilling out like an invitation. The shop was just as elegant as the bracelet itself, filled with gleaming displays of luxury and an array of fine jewelry that made your eyes sparkle. Even the air smelled faintly of polished wood and expensive perfumes, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly out of place in your cozy winter coat compared to the sleek interior.

Bruce, however, seemed perfectly at home.

He was already scanning the shelves with the kind of focus he reserved for planning an important mission, his eyes darting between the glimmering items like a child in a candy store. “What do you think of this?” he asked, pointing to a necklace encrusted with gorgeous diamonds, its center stone a vivid shade of sapphire. “Or this?” His finger then hovered over a ring so opulent it seemed to catch the light from every angle, a stunning emerald set in platinum, polished to perfection. “I’m sure you’d look incredible in this one.”

You had to laugh, despite yourself. “Bruce, they’re beautiful, but I don’t need anything like that,” you said, trying your best to steer him toward a less extravagant choice. You couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed by how effortless he made it look—like money was a toy for him, to be spent and discarded without a second thought. But you weren’t that girl. You didn’t need diamonds and gold to know he cared.

Bruce merely glanced at you, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “I’m not saying you need it,” he explained with a knowing glance, “but you deserve it. Every piece in here, and more.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through you at his words. “I’m really fine with just looking.”

Yet, his hand never wavered as he pointed again—this time toward the stunning bracelet you eyed earlier, a sleek chain with delicate diamonds set into its links, glistening under the shop’s overhead lights. “What about this one?” he asked, voice smooth and persuasive, as though he knew exactly you would choose this one. “It would go so well with the necklace you already wear.”

Oh, he knew you so well.

Your breath caught for a moment. There it was—the same bracelet you’d seen outside, now glowing with the same captivating brilliance up close. You felt your resolve falter, but you quickly steadied yourself. “Bruce, it’s beautiful, but—”

He cut you off, his voice warm but insistent. “I know what you’re thinking, but I can tell you right now, it’s not too much. Not for you.” His gaze softened as he met your eyes, almost pleading with a subtle intensity that you couldn’t ignore. “Let me spoil you, sweet girl, just a little. You’ve earned it.”

You swallowed, your cheeks warming up with emotion at the sincerity in his words. It wasn’t the extravagant pieces he had pointed to earlier that made your heart swell; it was the thought behind it all. He was offering what you had always dreamed of—the luxury, the feeling of being cared for so much that it made you almost melt.

“Bruce, really,” you tried again, voice softer, more vulnerable now. “I don’t need any of this.”

But his eyes, dark and unwavering, held yours, and you knew—he was determined. And deep down, you knew there was no way to say no.

Your words hung in the air for a moment as you smiled sheepishly, trying to ease the tension you could feel building between them. “I was just window shopping. I wasn’t planning on buying anything. It’s just . . . pretty to look at, that’s all.”

But when Bruce’s expression shifted—eyes narrowing ever so slightly, lips pressing into a thin line—you instantly knew you had made a mistake. His posture straightened, his gaze hardening in that way you knew too well. It wasn’t anger, exactly, but something else—something deeper, like he’d just been presented with an insult he hadn’t expected.

“You were just window shopping?” His voice was soft, but there was a steel edge to it now, one that told you he wasn’t pleased with the idea of you limiting yourself to just looking. “With me?”

For a moment, you were silent, surprised by the strength of his reaction. It almost felt like he’d been wounded, as if the idea of you standing in front of something so beautiful—something you deserved—without actually taking it, was too much for him to bear. The hint of disappointment in his voice caught you off guard, a realization dawning on you that you’d underestimated him again.

“Bruce,” you started, your tone softer now, trying to piece together the right words. “It’s not that I didn’t want it . . . I just didn’t want you to—”

He shook his head, cutting you off gently. “No. You don’t just window shop when you’re with me, sweetheart. Not for things like this. You see something you like, you take it. And I’ll make sure you get it.”

You opened your mouth to protest again, but the gentle cut-off from him stilled the words before they could escape. And before you could even process the shift, his fingers were already moving—sliding his sleek black card from his wallet with an ease you had come to expect, but it still made your heart flutter every time he did it.

The sound of the card swiping against the boutique’s terminal felt like a soft crack of thunder in the quiet of the shop, and the realization you her all at once—he wasn’t just offering to buy you the bracelet. He was already doing it.

The cashier smiled warmly, already taking the sleek black card and ringing up the bracelet. The sparkle of the diamonds under the soft shop lighting seemed to mock your hesitation, making the choice you had avoided all along suddenly seem inevitable. Your gaze flicked from the bracelet to the man who liked spoiling you a little too much, then back again, your chest tightening with a swirl of emotions.

Bruce caught your eye, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t take no for an answer when it comes to you,” he murmured quietly, his words soft but sure, as though the decision had been made the moment he saw you admiring the piece. “You deserve to have everything you want.”

“I . . . I didn’t want to feel like I was asking too much,” you admitted softly to him, fingers lightly brushing the delicate fabric of your scarf.

He stepped closer and his voice lowered just for you, the softness of it carrying a weight that made your cheeks warm up. “Sweetheart, you’re not asking for anything. You’re not asking too much. You never have to. Let me spoil you, let me take care of you.”

Before you could give him a response, the cashier handed him the small box containing the bracelet, wrapped with a care that only seemed to make it more precious.

“Enjoy the holidays, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Bruce turned to you then, the box resting in his hand, his dark eyes fixed on you with an almost expectant look.

“Go ahead,” he urged, his voice soft but firm, “Try it on. It’s yours just like I said it would be.”

Your fingers hovered over the delicate box, the weight of Bruce’s words lingering in the air like a soft promise. You opened it slowly, almost reverently, and your breath caught in your throat as you saw the bracelet in its full brilliance for the first time up close. The diamonds caught the light, glinting like tiny stars, each one reflecting a different facet of the warmth you felt deep inside. It was beautiful, in a way that made you feel a little lightheaded, and as you slipped it onto your wrist, you couldn’t help but glance up at Bruce, who was watching you with an almost proud smile.

“It’s perfect.”

Bruce’s eyes softened with something close to satisfaction, but the teasing smirk tugging at his lips was unmistakable. “I told you it would be,” he said, his voice rich with affection—and something else, something playful that you knew all too well.

You smiled, reaching up to adjust the bracelet slightly, the delicate metal cool against your skin. “I wasn’t expecting you to actually buy it, though,” you admitted, still a little embarrassed by the extravagance of it all. “You could’ve just let me keep window shopping.”

“Window shopping, huh?” He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “You’re with me now. Window shopping isn’t a thing, sweetheart. Not for you. You deserve more than that.”

You laughed, shaking your head, but before you could say anything else, Bruce’s voice turned more teasing, that mischievous edge creeping back in. “Although,” he began, his tone light but with an undercurrent of something more, “now that you have that beautiful bracelet, I wonder what else you might need. I’m sure there are plenty of other lovely things out there for you. More necklaces? Maybe some earrings? Or,” he paused dramatically, looking you up and down with a grin, “how about a whole set?”

You rolled her eyes, half-amused and half-embarrassed by the thought of being so utterly spoiled. “Bruce, I don’t need a whole set.”

“Oh, but I insist,” he teased, his smile widening. “There’s no such thing as ‘too much’ when it comes to you. I’d spoil you rotten if I could.”

You could hear the amusement in his voice, but there was a layer of genuine affection beneath it all. It was the way he looked at you, the way he spoke—like you were the most precious thing in the world to him, and nothing was too much to give.

For a moment, you let yourself bask in the warmth of that feeling, your new bracelet gleaming against your wrist, a symbol not just of his generosity but of something much deeper—the connection the two of you shared. “You’re impossible,” you laughed softly, but there was no real heat in your words. Only affection, and the quiet joy of being loved in a way you’d never quite expected.

Bruce’s smile softened, and he leaned in just a little closer, his voice low and sincere. “I’m not impossible, sweetheart. I’m just getting started.”

[snghnlvr]

hope they caught us. / sim jaeyun

jake x fem reader

synopsis: you knew that an academic girl like you shouldn’t be involved with a mischievous boy like jake, but both of you hide it well…right?

includes: 3.5k words | SUGGESTIVE | fluff too to balance it out lol | jake being a hot mischievous boy next door | but he’s smart! we love a hot, smart guy who thrives attention for y/n | jake’s hand placements⁉️ | y/n is shy but jake likes that | smooth talker jake yessir | LIP PIERCING JAKE !!

extra: hey bffs i’m back from my own grave 👯‍♀️ i lost motivation for a moment but it’s fine, ill try to post more~ | i’ve watched anne with an e so the language here is kind of similar to that style bc i love that fucking show and it inspired me 🤷‍♀️ | enhypen 🔛🔝 | jake has been so fine lately omfg | jake is a fucking simp!!!

likes, comments, and reposts are very much appreciated <3

[below the cut]

“j-jake-“ you pulled away from his grasp, heaving for air after that short yet everlasting kiss both of you shared secretly.

“you know we can’t be seen together.” as your flushed cheeks were on display in front of him, despise all of it, your mind was full of worries and anxiety of being caught by one of your family members or risking into a more intense situation in your bedroom.

“god, you’re so pretty whenever i look at you.” you scrunched your nose at your boyfriend’s compliment as he had a small smug smirk from your shy, silent reaction. you quickly turned your head towards the door, eyeing the hallway like a hawk to check if there was anyone near by and to your fortune, you can still hear the laughter and voices from the adults downstairs. you felt relieved, sighing softly.

your pondering thoughts became interrupted when you felt jake’s hand slither around your waist and pull you back again closer to him. you gasped, having both of your palms being in placed of his chest. he raised an eyebrow as you were taken aback from his gesture that was normal for him to do.

you were a blushing mess, however jake was smiling like a trickster- not giving a damn about what he’s doing to you, rather amused. you stared at him, observing how obnoxiously handsome he is with his hair being slightly disheveled up from your hands a few seconds ago, his hooded eyes gazing to yours and his lips being stained from your favorite shade of red from forbidden exchange that was yet mutual. the sight was scandalous but breathtaking.

you wanted to stare at him for hours, like a painting from a museum, trying to analyze every beautiful feature that earth has offered.

as the moonlight reflected your bodies from your small window, jake felt a breeze from it. the window’s open a tad bit. he sat down on the little space your window offered for sitting. he admired your wavy locks being swayed by the night air and your crimson cheeks being glowed from the radiance of the moon.

both of you smiled in delight, contented with each other’s presences.

jake. sim jake. adventurous yet devilish. elegant yet charming. sincere yet … complicated to deal with.

as you met the rebellious individual, you had no intentions of befriending jake. you didn’t like his trickster behavior in front of his friends, spreading unhumorous jokes, say the meanest things about teachers and most of all having an egotistical mind that one cannot top.

especially jake, for he is not only annoyingly attractive but naturally intelligent in his studies. maybe that’s why you didn’t entirely hate his guts.

your parents warned you about jake ever since he became not only your new classmate but your new neighbor. how innocent looks can cover their sinful stunts.

the way he showed himself to you at a family dinner at your place, he wore all black clothings including black ripped jeans along with multiple rings on his slim fingers and a lip piercing being proudly displayed on the right side of his face. in spite of it, you were surprised how someone your age can look daunting to look at. it somehow concerned your parents how one can allow their child to have piercings.

you would rather be the opposite. your closet would be filled with soft pastel colors. you have two piercings - the lobes. the ones where you would get at a young age and you never recall as you grow older but yet looking at jake’s, you thrived the curiosity of one.

but somehow, it ease your parents’ tension against him when he became a smooth talker and how he was gonna major engineering in college. you gawked at him, comparing how you were gonna take pre-med in college. just wondering how smart can he be?

and of course, as a shy girl you would always stray away in making new friends as if you wanted to be friends with jake. at a family gathering, you were the first one finished with your meal and went upstairs to do your unfinished homework. as a result, jake’s parents admired you for your hard work and dedication, wishing that their son can do the same instead of partying and socializing. not that there’s something wrong with having an extroverted personality, but something to prioritize with studies.

perhaps you did do it on purpose for the sake of your ego against jake and to maintain a good reputation as a daughter in your family.

unlucky enough, jake caught your act rather quickly. he would always scan you whenever you would converse with someone, how your lovely smile would appear, your glowy brown eyes shining under the gleaming light, how he had noticed you have small dimples on both sides of your cheek if your lips curved, how you scrunch your face when you receive a compliment, and your hair look looking smooth. he wonders what it’s like to touch it with his fingers and smell the scent that your hair obtains. there’s many more observations jake silently took note of.

all of his thoughts are genuine. about you. everything he thought about you are genuine.

he noticed whenever you would quickly glance at him and immediately look down at your plate as if you were scared. you would nibble your bottom lip and fiddle with your fingers on your lap whenever the adults mentioned jake to you.

needlessly to say as he took interest upon your first impression, he wanted you to be on his mind as well. in a way that makes him be stuck in your head for days and let curiosity rise to know him better.

the first step in his plan, to offer you to be his tutor. it surprised his parents, amazed at seeing a drastic change in their son after being in your house for one night. although he might in a higher level than you are, he wanted to find a way to know you better.

the night he was supposed to be partying with his friends, it was with books and you.

it was awkward. you felt awkward. your mind had awkward thoughts. the two of you in your room together in the midday of an autumn day. although your window was closed, your body was cold as you were cuddling yourself with a fluffy blanket of yours while sitting down.

next to you was jake, his uniform was a bit crumpled and his tie loosen up a bit after saying, “hope you don’t mind.” to you.

you noticed how his hair was a bit out of place, having the urge to fix it as the perfectionist you are.

however, despite looking tired from his classes, he seemed curiosity and his eyes would sparkle whenever something in your room caught his eye. like noticing your piano medals spread across in a shelf or picture you’ve kept when you were in art class in second grade pinned in your walls.

“so… what subject are you struggling with?” you were the first to break the awkward silence, eyes glancing at the emptiness of your desk table hoping that it would be filled with a textbook of any subject.

“statistics.” jake replied after, gulping in nervousness to make any wrong move on you. you raised an eyebrow.

“oh!” you straightened yourself in your chair, making your blanket slowly fall down. your shoulders from your cami top were exposed to jake, making him take into admiration of your beauty from your single lamp open.

you looked at jake. “the test scores were given back today right? can i see your test score so i can have an idea in what to teach you?” you smiled at jake as a reassurance message.

jake’s eyes widened a bit, taken aback from your sudden request. you noticed the moment of silence, thinking that jake is embarrassed to show you but jake was thinking of something else. he didn’t except nor imagine this scenario taking place. it was something that might make you mad.

“it’s okay, i’m here to teach you not to make fun of you, you can be honest with me.” you nodded at jake, seeing him zip his back bag open behind him. he scooted his chair closer to you.

now you were taken aback from the sudden gesture that he wasn’t even fazed. his eyes were glued onto his folder but your eyes were glued onto his side profile. under the luminous light, it complimented his features well that you questioned how handsome can this boy get?

“whatever you do, please don’t get mad.” he spoke in a low tone. you distracted yourself with another thoughts, nodding quickly so you wouldn’t get caught doing the unforgiven, staring.

you gawked once he opened his folder, with the numbers written in red marker. a big fat 100 smacks you on the face.

“w-what..” you were in disbelief at what you were saying. you were confused as to why he needed tutoring when he got a perfect score. you studied so hard he night before the exam to get a passing grade of 100, but it only resulted in an 80. even worse, jake’s grade wasn’t curved.

it made you be in a lost of thoughts as you glanced at jake. you noticed how his shoulders crouching down and avoiding eye contact like a guilty kid caught in the act.

maybe he can be your tutor instead which is humiliating to accept.

“you lied?” jake whined mentally at how devastated you sound. he was trying to quickly find a way to defend himself but what would he say instead of, i just wanted to know you better? sounds like a psychopath.

his lips trembled, “i-i .. okay look y/n..” you softened when you said your name with such delicacy and softness that it slowly made you forget being disappointed at him. “i just wanted to know you better, not as a neighbor but perhaps a friend since we will be often seeing each other a lot.. and i couldn’t find a way to approach to you without being weird..”

jake rambled with his words, slowly breathing in a fast pace after his chest was relieved from all of the stress he endured of defending himself. he looked at you with sad eyes, knowing that he disappointed you, that you probably never want to ever see him again and how you will snitch to him to your parents and they will forbid you to ever go near him again. but instead of crying your heart out and running away as he imagined, you instead chuckled. you were amused at his creative idea that you wonder how can he have such an idea like this one?

“you wanted to know me better?” you asked again, appreciating the thought that he wanted to be your friend but in an unusual way.

“yeah..” jake lowered his shoulder, whispering his reply to you. he looked at you chuckling at him.

“we can be friends jake, you didn’t have to do all of this.” you slightly rubbed your eye with your index finger, tired of giggling from jake. “i know.. i guess i was scared that i might look like a weird guy to you.” he embarrassingly scratched the back of his hair with his hand. his hair bounced against his flustered head.

“well you seem weird from the first impression but other than that, you seem harmless.. i hope.” you scrunched your nose unconsciously, making jake’s heart fluttered from the dimples appearing on your face whenever you do it.

the more days spent with jake under the act of “tutoring him”, it was him tutoring you instead since he told you that he enjoyed math and physics.

you thought he was a crazy scientist planning to ban away society from earth but the more time you witnessed him enjoy doing homework, you couldn’t help but think about him from time to time in appreciation that there’s someone who’s sincere as him. effortless and a natural.

during those moments, he did nothing but make you laugh and somehow make your heart flutter from his doings. it influenced your heart to be a mess. moments such as pulling your back bag from behind so there’s less weight and it’s lighter to walk with it while going home together from school, raise your blanket higher whenever it lowered from your body whenever both of you studied, and making your body electrocuted from the constant coincidental touches both of you share unknowingly.

although there would be times where jake pulled out his witty jokes and random comments to gravitate your focus onto him, he never forced anything onto you. he keeps his boundaries on alert and respected your feelings.

for instance, if he tried to make a conversation with you while you were studying and you tell him to be quiet, he would. immediately. he would slide the chair away from you, slightly sulking and try to find ways to occupy his bored self.

playing games on his phone is one thing but another would be exploring your room. jake found your art journal from middle school while snooping your drawers next to your bed.

or that one time he unfortunately came across your polka dot underwear lying freely on the floor when he eagerly and abruptly came upstairs after school as you tried beating him first to your room after screaming that you didn’t clean your room.

yeah that was the first time you yelled at him.

besides that, there would be times where you found jake adorable such as trying not to sleep whenever both of you were alone in one of each other’s room, whining in how a certain teacher sucks at their teaching job, and the crazy story times he experienced in his life. it made you realize how such a human can have so much impact in your life in less than a year?

nevertheless, you had to avoid each other at school to not let any rumours about the two of you knowing each other be spread across. jake completely understood as you didn’t want any drama from occurring in your final year of high school. there would be times where the both of you spared glances and smile at each other, missing each other’s presences deeply.

there was a moment where both of you laid in jake’s bed after studying, taking a small break before you return home for supper.

“y/n i’ve been thinking..” your heart thumped after hearing jake’s deep voice while closing your eyes. you never heard jake with this tone so it felt new and exciting.

you opened your eyes, turning your head to your right to face him as his stare was focused on the ceiling above him.

“i really like being with you. you made me realize how there’s always good in a bad place. and i really want to continue to be with you…” you sharped a breath when his picky was interlocking with yours.

he finally turned at you and for once you were grateful that he didn’t witness how red your cheeks were becoming. you were become a mess at how sparkly his eyes were and beautiful his lips can be. especially with that piercing of his.

this feeling was brand new to you. you’ve never been close to a boy before as you were merely focused in your education. boys weren’t prioritizing your mind.

“do you like being with me too?” jake asked, softly as if you were gonna be broken glass. he was being fragile in case he will do something wrong to you. he spoke with hesitation.

your mind was filled with memories that you spent with him from the past few months and you can’t but wanting to spend more memories with him.

“of course i do jake. every moment i spent with you, i feel free against the world that my parents created from me. you make me feel like it’s okay to step out of the comfort zone.” you smiled against your lips.

jake soon did the same as you continued to stare at each other with silence, having a significant spark in each other’s hearts for the first time.

“can i court you then?” jake’s hand slowly creep to yours, softly grasping it. you looked down, your heart pounding as if it was gonna explode from your rib cage.

god you never felt more in love than before. “i would like that jake..” you sheepishly smiled, letting go of his grasp to hide your shy smile but jake didn’t allow that.

jake slowly took the hand that was covering your beautiful smile, taking his hand with it. you were silent, eyeing his every action as jake kept staring at you.

your fingers were lingering the cold metal against his lips and it made your body shivered.

it was like he was having a different emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t identify but you felt safe when you were with him.

jake pecked your palm and held it against his cheek. he closed his eyes, processing the fact that you’re now his and he’s yours.

and the fact that you have to hide it from your parents for now.

and here you are currently, “a penny for your thoughts pretty girl?” jake swept a strain of hair behind your ear. you shook your head, lowering your head in his neck to hide your flushed cheeks.

you would always do this whenever you were feeling bashful from jake’s bold behavior and he loved it. that he was the only boy that made you be like this.

“it’s just you’re so beautiful when you look like that..” you whispered against his neck. jake raised both of his eyebrows, surprise at the sudden change in your usual personality. the position you were in, where jake was sitting down and you were standing above him.

his legs being comfortably spread out so each of his leg is next to yours it made you be in a pit of nervousness and jake took note of it. jake always love how expressive you are with your own eyes as if it was telling a story if your mouth goes mute upon seeing his figure wherever, whenever.

seeing him below you caused a spark in your heart as his eyes stared at you with devotion and attentiveness. jake noticed how your eyes changed when you kept staring at him with a specific look. a look that makes him even more whipped for you.

“really?” jake’s hands slowly crept towards your hips, lightly massaging it before he pulled you closer to him, causing you stumble lightly and sit on his lap thanks to jake’s strength in holding you still. your legs straddled his each side of his hip.

you looked down, realizing the situation you were in but jake kept holding his signature smirk as he was loving your reaction. he kept staring at you, swallowing the beauty you are in front of him. he didn’t want to get you go, thinking you are a dedicate feather ready to disappear if let go.

“well uhm,” you scoffed lightly, keeping a wide grin to disguise the apprehension from your face. as you were at a loss of words - not having a quick way to reply to jake, he took it as an opportunity to steal a kiss from your soft lips.

the sound echoed in your head, making your heart flutter listening to it. you closed your eyes again when jake stole another one.

you looked at him, filled with fond and passion. the silence aura, it spoke louder than words of how much you two love it each other.

you lightly placed your hand against jake’s resting on your hip comfortably with a small smile on your lips. you rubbed his fingers lightly.

“i love you.” as fragile as you sounded whispering the truth spilled from your lips, your heart never felt any less warmer with any other guy besides your secret boyfriend in front of you.

jake’s other hand, cradled your jaw. his thumb was slowly rubbing your cheek as his thoughts were filled of the words “i love you” multiple times. he swore he was gonna be a psychopath with you.

he didn’t say, but you felt it.

“i love you too my y/n.” both of your lips collided with a deep kiss after jake exchanged his romantic confession to you.

“y/n!” you immediately pulled out of the kiss, mentally whining that it ended too quick due to your mother calling you.

“yes?” you yelled back back as jake didn’t stop kissing you. he continued showcasing his love for you when his lips touched your neck, having little pecks as he was attached from your perfume scent you sprayed on before jake’s parents arrived to your home.

you were squirming on his lap as his lips kept going places on your neck. the sounds of his lips touching your skin made your head be distracted from your mother’s voice.

you tried stopping jake, pushing your palms against his chest to pull him off but jake insisted, grabbing both of your wrists with his one hand. you felt jake’s smirk onto your neck as you felt the tip of his tongue on your hot skin, making you gasp.

“jake’s parents are going home now! please send jake downstairs.” your mother yelled out. you sighed after you replied with okay to her, ignoring your heart trying to escape from your ribcage.

“jake..” you called him before he gets distracted with his desirable thoughts of wanting to continue in kissing you. you ruffled his hair to awake his senses but he has beat you to it.

“what a shame..” he scrunched his nose. “i’ll go now, i’ll definitely miss you.” jake pressed his lips one last time to your cheek before you removed yourself from him to get his things.

jake grabbed his black, round glasses from your table and the flannel he tossed in your bed the moment he entered to your room.

this time, you were observing your boyfriend picking up his possession, especially with the gray sweatpants and a white plain tank top. simple yet still handsome in every way and form. you can’t believe that jake is yours.

before jake left, his hand wrapped around your door knob indicating his hesitation. “hm?” you hummed in confusion when you turned your head to see jake stand still. you were curious of what was holding him back.

“i’ll be at your window in 10 minutes.” jake looked back. his eyes were gazing your figure in your bed. you looked up at him and his heart still flutters just as he first saw you.

you taken aback with this new gesture of his that you didn’t know what to say. “i-ill see you then.” you let out a smile. jake smiled back before quickly heading downstairs. you heard the mixture of his voice and you the adults downstairs as you fell sideways in your bed, making your head bounce on your pillow.

with his mischievous and brave acts with you, you’re certain that one day both of you will be caught but you never objected the idea of doing so.

taglist ; @iraisswiftie @s00buwu

[hoshifighting]

Hockey Captain!Reader x Nerd, Diner Owner!Seokmin

— Synopsis: You're the hockey captain at your university, rocking a cool leather jacket and cruising around in your dad's vintage car. Seokmin, on the other hand, is just a nerd from your Campus in a dirty shirt from washing dishes at his dad's diner—a spot you frequent for pre-game meals. — WC: 4.1k — WARNINGS: Emotional struggles, smut, fluff, fingering, penetrative sex, body fluids (cum), chocking, dirty talk, creampie.

[Issue Club Serie]

You arrive at the diner, and park your dad's old, sleek car in the garage out front. The familiar little bell above the door jingles as you step inside. The scent of greasy burgers and fries on the air.

Sliding onto a stool at the counter, you notice the middle-aged man behind it, drying a cup with a warm smile. His kind eyes crinkle at the corners, and you can't help but smile back.

"Hey there, Y/N," he greets you.

"Hey, Mr. Lee," you reply.

You take a moment to glance around the diner, absorbing the familiar sights and sounds. The jukebox in the corner plays a soft tune. your gaze lands on a table near the counter, where a familiar figure is hunched over a pile of biology books. 

"The usual?"

You nod, brushing your hair back.

Seokmin had noticed you the moment you walked in, Y/N, the hockey team captain from his campus. You, with your cool leather jacket adorned with silver details, and your dad’s vintage car. You walked confidently in your fine shoes, exuding an aura of confidence, making him feel small—like, really small. 

He kept his head down, trying to become invisible as he pretended to be deeply engrossed in his biology notes. The white shirt he wore still had faint smudges from washing dishes, and he felt a wave of embarrassment. He hoped you wouldn't notice him.

"Seokmin, can you serve Y/N a strawberry milkshake while I prepare her burger?" his father’s voice called out.

Seokmin's stomach dropped. He closed his eyes briefly, dreading your reaction. You always had that serious, kind of threatening look on your face. He was certain you would think he was a loser.

"Sure, Dad," he mumbled, making a beeline for the milkshake machine. He focused on the task, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. He felt your eyes on him, but he didn’t dare look up.

When the milkshake was ready, he placed it on the counter in front of you, his hand still holding the cup. He was about to retreat back to his table when he felt your hand on his, holding him in place.

"Oh, Seokmin! I didn't know you worked here!" you said with a smile.

Seeing you smile with a friendlier expression than when you are walking down the halls. It was something Seokmin rarely saw.

Seokmin stared at you in shock. You knew him?

"Uh, yeah, my dad owns this diner," he stuttered, feeling a flush creep up his neck.

"Really? Wow, that's so cool! Does that mean you get free strawberry milkshakes?" You took a sip, your eyes widening in delight.

"Kind of," he managed to say, still in disbelief that you were talking to him.

You peeked over at the table he was studying at. "What are you studying for?"

"Biology," he replied, feeling a bit more at ease.

"Hmm," you said thoughtfully, sipping your drink. "I saw your score on the last test. You're really good."

Seokmin's eyes widened. "You saw my score?"

"Yeah, it was impressive. Actually, I heard you were tutoring. Do you think you could tutor me?"

Seokmin blinked, momentarily speechless. "You want me to tutor you?"

"Yeah, if you have the time. I mean, you're one of the best in the class."

"Uh, sure, I can do that," he finally said.

Seokmin watched as you left the diner, your cool leather jacket catching the light as you waved. His heart did a little flip when he noticed the money and a note with your number under your plate: "Text me! :)". He glanced out the window just in time to see you accelerate the car away, leaving a faint smell of exhaust.

Seokmin always thought you were too intimidating, with your serious expression and occasional grumpiness. He never expected you to be this kind. 

He knew you frequented his father's diner but always avoided you, preferring the back where the employees smoked cigarettes. He hated the smell, but your presence scared him more. Yet today, you had been gentle, asking him for tutoring. It had almost made him drop his books.

The next day, Seokmin arrived at the library early, choosing a round table at the end of the hallway between two bookshelves. It felt strange, expecting to see someone like you in this academic setting. You, the intimidating captain of the hockey team, among the quiet, studious crowd.

He spent the whole night preparing the content, wanting to make sure he could teach you effectively. When you arrived, he was surprised at how attentive you were. Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration, you took notes diligently as he explained the concepts and showed you images from the book.

Not that he expected you to be on your phone or filing your nails, but he wasn't used to this side of you. His only other memories of working with you were from a few group projects in your second year, and back then, you had always seemed distant and totally unapproachable.

you find yourself genuinely interested. Seokmin is a good teacher, his explanations clear and concise. You take notes, asking questions when something isn’t clear. You notice how passionate he is about the subject, his eyes lighting up when he talks about cellular structures and genetic coding.

"You’re really good at this," you say, interrupting his explanation.

Seokmin looks up, slightly startled. "Oh, thanks. I just really like biology."

"I can tell," you reply with a smile. "It’s nice to see someone so passionate about what they do."

Seokmin blushes slightly, looking down at his notes. "Well, I’m glad I can help you."

The session continues, and you realize that Seokmin is not just smart but also incredibly funny and patient. You find yourself relaxing, enjoying the time spent learning from him.

As the session ends, you gather your things, feeling a bit more confident about the upcoming test. "Thanks, Seokmin. I really appreciate this."

"No problem, Y/N. Anytime you need help, just let me know."

You give him a genuine smile. "I will. And hey, don’t be a stranger. I’ll be back at the diner soon."

[...]

You had two productive sessions with Seokmin, and the biology concepts were finally making sense. You felt confident that you would pass your upcoming test with flying colors. But then, something changed. Seokmin disappeared.

He had texted you to meet him at the library after his shift on Thursday. You arrived early, settled in, and waited. As the minutes ticked by, 7 p.m., 7:30 p.m., 8 p.m., there was no sign of him. You called him, sent messages, and even tried to focus on the content alone. Nothing.

"Hey, I'm waiting."

"Where r u?"

"Are you serious?"

"nvm, I'm going home."

"You at least should've told me you wouldn't come."

You walked back to your car, stomping your rage on the asphault. Friday came, then Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. Seokmin's absence from college was unusual, and as the days passed, your anger shifted to worry.

Seokmin wasn’t the type to skip classes.

Determined to find out what happened, you headed to the only place you could think of—the diner. If Seokmin wasn’t there, at least you could talk to Mr. Lee.

As you approached the counter, you noticed a young boy in place of Mr. Lee or his wife. Confusion clouded your face as you walked up.

"Hi," you greeted, your voice tentative.

The boy looked up from the counter, giving you a polite smile. "Hi, what can I get for you today?"

"Actually, I was looking for Mr. Lee or... Seokmin," you said, your worry evident.

"Oh, they’re not working today, but I can serve you," he replied.

"Thank you, but I didn’t come here to eat. I’m worried about Seokmin. I haven’t seen him at college," you explained, hoping for some answers.

The attendant gave a sad smile, his expression softening.

Seokmin had been excited about your study sessions.

But life had a way of throwing curveballs. On Thursday, just as he was about to leave for the library, a family emergency struck. His father, Mr. Lee, had collapsed from exhaustion and had to be taken to the hospital. 

Between helping out at the diner and taking care of his father, Seokmin hadn't found a moment to breathe—let alone check his phone. He knew he was letting you down, but he didn't have the energy to reach out.

The guilt gnawed at him, especially knowing you were waiting for him at the library. He had been so excited to tutor you, to spend more time with you. But now, everything felt like it was falling apart. The texts from you kept popping up on his phone, but he couldn't bring himself to respond.

The young boy at the counter seemed to hesitate before speaking. "Mr. Lee... he’s in the hospital. Seokmin’s been with him."

Your heart sank. "Oh my God, is he okay?"

The boy nodded slowly. "He’s stable now, but it was a scare. Seokmin hasn’t left his side."

Guilt washed over you, replacing the worry. "I didn’t know. I’ve been sending him messages, but I had no idea."

The boy offered a reassuring smile. "I’m sure he appreciates your concern. If you want, I can give him a message."

"Yes, please," you said, scribbling a quick note. "Tell him I’m sorry for being upset and that I’m here if he needs anything."

Returning home for a brief moment to shower and change, Seokmin found the note you left at the diner. He felt a wave of relief. He texted you immediately:

"Hey, Y/N. I’m so sorry for disappearing. My dad was in the hospital. Thank you for understanding. Can we reschedule our session once things settle down?"

You text Seokmin back immediately, telling him not to worry about it. "When your dad gets well, we can continue. No rush." Seokmin responds quickly, "Thanks, but the exams are next week already."

You assure him that you can get by with what he’s already taught you.

When Seokmin finally returns to university, you make a point of asking how his dad is doing. Some of your friends tilt their heads in surprise at the sight of your smile. Seokmin, still feeling guilty about skipping your tutoring sessions, tries to teach you some things during shared classes. He’s pleasantly surprised by how quickly you grasp the material.

One thing that makes you feel a bit sad is how Seokmin hides everything. Despite his dad’s situation, he’s always there, cheering you and his friends on, looking like the happiest person in the world.

You’re surprised by how quickly he have broken through your icy exterior. You catch yourself laughing at his jokes or sharing subtle glances, trying to hold back your laughter when you both notice your funny teacher’s odd clothing choices. You can’t help but wonder how his demeanor changes when he faces his problems at home.

Today, your hands fumble with the edges of the paper from the test, determined to get a high score. The thought of making Seokmin proud crosses your mind. He’s taking the test in another classroom, and you’re anxious to meet him afterward.

When you leave the classroom, test paper in hand, you find Seokmin sitting on a bench outside. He’s holding his own test paper and looks up as you approach, a smile spreading across his face. You run to him.

"How much?" he asks, eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"9.5 out of 10," you reply, grinning. "And you?"

"9.75 out of 10," he says, then adds excitedly, "And I have good news!"

Your eyes light up. "What is it?"

"My dad is already home!" he exclaims.

You feel so happy for him that when he suddenly hugs you tightly, you can’t help but hug him back. You both jump up and down in the middle of the hallway, laughing with joy. The teacher inside the classroom looks at you two, confused, through the window of the door.

For as much as you wanted to visit Mr. Lee, you decided to go home to give them family time, thinking about paying the visit another time.

The next day, before your hockey game, you pass by Seokmin’s dad’s diner. You’re so distracted by the upcoming game that you arrive at the counter, asking for the usual. The new guy with the notebook and pen in his hand looks at you confused.

Before you can speak, someone chimes in, "Her usual is burgers with fries and a strawberry milkshake." The attendant nods, and you widen your eyes.

"Mr. Lee? What are you doing here? You should be resting! You just left the hospital yesterday," you exclaim, approaching one of the tables where he’s seated.

"I know," Mr. Lee replies, "Seokmin and Mrs. Lee won’t let me work, so they made me sit here." He glances at them as they look at him from the kitchen.

You cross your arms, "As they should."

Mr. Lee smiles, "Why don’t you sit with me and keep me company?" You agree and sit down. Seokmin glances over from making your milkshake, surprised to see you sitting with his dad, smiling warmly.

When Seokmin approaches your table to serve you, he hears you mention how nervous you are about the game. "You’re going to do well, as always," he interjects.

"Do you think?" you ask, biting into your burger.

He hums in agreement, "You always do."

"Have you ever watched me before?" you tilt your head.

"Yeah... very often, even," Seokmin admits, sitting beside his dad, across from you.

"Oh, I never saw you there," you say, widening your eyes.

He laughs, "Maybe because you��re so focused on your game."

You blush, nodding, "Are you going to watch me today?"

"I have to work," he says, glancing at the clock showing 5:06 p.m.

Mr. Lee puts a hand on his shoulder, "The new employee is doing well. Go cheer for her."

"Really?" Seokmin asks, wide-eyed.

Mr. Lee nods, "But go take off that apron and freshen up. You’re not going to watch her smelling like fries, right?"

Seokmin runs to the back of the diner, and Mr. Lee just nods.

After finishing your lunch, you leave the diner—without paying since Mr. Lee insisted it was his treat so you could do well in the game. Seokmin is in your passenger seat as you drive to the campus.

He looks around the car, "Oh, your car really is all red inside. The rumors are true."

"Rumors about the inside of my car?" you ask, glancing at the road.

"The book club wouldn’t stop talking about it," he says, making you laugh as you arrive at the campus garage.

Your stomach churns with anxiety. Seokmin notices too. You take off your seatbelt and lay your head on the seat. "Fuck, I’m so nervous..."

Seokmin looks at you, "Wow... but you’re the captain. I thought—"

"I get nervous every single time before my games," you cut him off, nodding. "I just hide it in my car before all of them."

Seokmin fumbles with his fingers. You rub your face, trying to calm your nerves. Suddenly, Seokmin leans in and kisses your cheek. "You’re going to rock it," he says.

The sensation of his lips on your cheek puts you on alert. You turn to him slowly, his face still close to where he kissed you, so you’re millimeters apart. "Do it again," you whisper.

His eyes widen. "Here?" he asks, pointing to your lips.

You nod, closing your eyes. You hear him gulp, then he presses his lips to yours in a fast kiss. But you pull him by his collar, making it last longer. Your hands find his hair as you slide your tongue inside his mouth. Seokmin can taste the strawberry milkshake he’s so used to, sick of even, but it suddenly tastes new and special on your tongue.

If you knew Seokmin kissed this well, you would have kissed him during your first tutoring session. 

Your mouth seeks more of his kiss, and you have to leave your seat to sit on his lap, Seokmin gasping in surprise. You feel him melting in your hands as you lower your kisses to his neck. 

His hands squeeze your thighs, but you guide them to squeeze your ass through your game uniform shorts. He squeezes it, bringing you further on his lap, making you hump on his bulge, a whiny moan escaping your lips. As you repeat the motion, Seokmin’s perfect nose grazes your cheek as he moans. You’re sure that if you hump again, your shorts won’t hold your wetness anymore.

You glance at your watch. The game starts in 30 minutes. "We don’t have a lot of time," you mumble.

Seokmin gets the message. His hand slips inside your shorts and panties, fingers playing with your wet folds, making you flinch, a broke moan leaving your lips. Your head almost hits the car ceiling, and your hands clench his shirt. 

You expected him to suck a titty or something. But you are far from complaining about it.

He feels you clenching as he teases your sopping hole. He can’t help but slide a finger inside, your pussy swallowing his long finger as you moan all whiny in his ear. Seokmin’s eyes close in delight, and he slides another finger in just to hear you moan slyly in his ear. 

Despite your shorts muffling it, he can still hear the wet sounds your pussy makes as he slides his fingers in and out.

His fingers are so long, and you never thought fingers could make you break like this. Yours never did all of this. You feel a bit stupid for how loud you're moaning just from fingering. Your face hides in the crook of his neck as his fingers slide in and out fast, your body contorting above his.

Your moans grow louder. He tries to hold your hips still, but he fails. Your hips hump against his fingers as he closes his eyes to savor every second of your reactions. He can feel your juices drenching more of his hand, and your continuous moans turn into a silent gasp as you writhe.

You suddenly hold his forearm, moaning desperately, announcing, "I cummed... I cummed."

His hand slides out of your shorts, and you leave his neck to look at him and his glistening fingers. You hold his hand to your mouth, sucking his fingers just to give him a little show of how you would suck his cock. 

He moans, clearly affected by the sight.

"Let me take care of you too," you coo. Your fingers race to his belt and jeans, as Seokmin lowers his pants and underwear down his thighs. His cock slaps against his stomach, the head pink, almost red, with veins apparent as it stands proudly on his abdomen. You bite your lip at the view, salivating.

However, you are short on time, and the space is very limited. You can't even take your shorts off. You pull the mesh to the side with your panties, aligning his cock with your messy pussy. 

Seokmin rolls his eyes as you begin to slowly lower down. His cock is so long that you thought it would never bottom out, but when your pussy touches his pelvis, you sit down. Seokmin lets out a breath he had not realized he was holding.

You wanted to go slowly, but before you knew it, your hips were doing their own thing. The windows are becoming blurry, and whenever you rest your hand on them, you leave a handprint on the glass. Seokmin's face is contorted with pleasure and almost pain as he looks at you. His hand on your ass makes you push harder, while the other slides up your belly to your neck, choking you.

When he does, you gasp, your mind going numb as you concentrate solely on the sensation of his cock digging into you. 

When he stops choking you and caresses your neck as you breathe in again, you have a blissful view of him. His cheeks are flushed, his hair clings to his face, and he moans constantly, his cock twitching inside you. 

He occasionally checks the windows to see if anyone is in the garage, but it is located behind the campus and is completely empty. However, if anyone passes by your car, they may have a clear view of your captain's college jacket with your name on it, as you roll your hips nonstop on his destroyed form.

You grip the headrest behind Seokmin as you ride him, your moans filling the confined space of the car. The car windows are completely fogged up now, creating a humid cocoon around you both. You lean down, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, "You're so deep, Seokmin. I never knew you could fill me up like this."

Seokmin’s eyes flutter open, meeting yours, “You’re so tight, Y/N,” he groans, his voice shaky. “I can feel every inch of you squeezing me.”

You feel a surge of confidence at his words, your hips moving faster, the wet sounds of your connection filling the car. “Is this what you imagined when you watched me, Seokmin? Did you think about fucking me like this?”

He moans louder, his hands gripping your waist, guiding your movements. “Yes, I thought about it all the time. Watching you out there, so strong and confident… I wanted to see you like this, falling apart on my cock.”

You let out a breathy laugh, your hands moving to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palms. “Well, now you have me. Do you like seeing me like this, Seokmin? Do you like making me cum?”

He nods, his face flushed and eyes dark with lust. Seokmin's cock moves deeper with every thrust of his hips as they rise to meet yours.  

"Oh, God, Seokmin," you gasp, your body trembling with the need for release. "I'm so close. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

His hand moves from your neck to your breast, squeezing and teasing your nipple through your shirt.

His fingers work magic, and you feel the coil tightening inside you. Your groans become frantic screams as every shove brings you closer to the brink. "Seokmin, I'm gonna— Oh fuuck!" Your tone falters. 

His voice strained with need, he begs, "Do it. Just do it, please."

Your orgasm crashes over you, causing your muscles to tighten and your head to tilt back. A loud moan escapes your lips. Seokmin follows you as your pussy clenches around him, his own climax striking him hard. He groans your name as he thrusts up into you one last time, spilling inside of you.

When you finally slide off Seokmin, your shorts snap back into place, trapping the warmth and wetness inside you. Both of you are sweaty and breathless, as if you'd just run a marathon. You dress quickly, trying to make yourselves presentable before leaving the car. Your hockey bag feels heavier than usual as you sling it over your shoulder and start towards the locker room.

Seokmin’s voice calls out behind you, “I’ll be at the grandstand!”

You stop in your tracks, turning back to him with a sudden impulse. His eyes widen, not knowing what to expect. You run back to him, grabbing his face and kissing him passionately. His hands instinctively grip your waist, pulling you closer.

When you finally pull away, you look into his eyes. He whispers, "Good luck," before giving you a soft peck on the lips.

You rush to the locker room, parting ways with him, but the feel of his touch lingers on your skin. As you arrive, your friends ask where you’ve been, and you mumble a quick excuse, your mind still racing.

The game starts, and the crowd’s cheers are deafening, but your focus is on Seokmin, standing out in the grandstand with a smile that lights up the entire field. You feel his support like a warm embrace, grounding you in the moment.

The game is intense, your adrenaline pumping as you skate with a renewed sense of purpose. Each play, each pass, each shot—everything feels sharper, more precise. Seokmin’s presence fuels you, his smile a beacon that keeps you going.

In the final moments, the score is tied. The puck is passed to you, and time seems to slow. You weave through the opposing team, your muscles burning, heart pounding. With a final, powerful shot, the puck sails into the net. The crowd erupts, and your team rushes to you, lifting you in celebration.

As you look towards the grandstand, you see Seokmin standing, clapping, and cheering louder than anyone else. 

As you charge forward, a single thought echoes in your mind, a mantra that fuels your every move: Play like you’ve got nothing to lose, because in this moment, with Seokmin watching, you’ve already won everything that matters.

[prismatic-starstuff]

From the Heart.

— Mr. Crawling x Reader.

"You cold?"

From your position laying on your back in your bed, you find yourself blanketed in silky black hair with a brightly grinning face taking up all your vision. A soft chuckle bubbles up in your throat; it's nice to have someone to wake up to every morning...

...and he's right. You are cold. The wind outside is roaring so loudly that you can practically feel it smacking against your poor walls, and though you can't see your window at the moment - there is, after all, a certain someone in the way - you're sure it's raining too.

Mr. Crawling's sharp teeth bite down on one soft black lip, his expression playful but genuinely concerned. Your newfound roommate is always concerned about you, even though the danger you'd found yourselves in is long behind you now; it's in his nature to take care of you. His head tilts to one side for a moment, and then the other, before he comes to a conclusion:

"I warm you."

That face is quite suddenly even closer, before it disappears to nuzzle into your neck. Spindly fingers run up and down your arms, and with no hesitation, he simply... lays down on top of you. There's not a lot of weight in him; you can feel that he's there, definitely, but having him as a blanket is nowhere near uncomfortable.

Gently, you wrap your arms around your companion's slender frame, stroking fingers through those long black tresses and rubbing his head just the way he likes it. You take a long breath of his scent, uniquely his, and close your eyes with a sigh and a smile. "Me warm now."

"Yayyyyyy..." He giggles, soft and close to your ear, so earnestly delighted to have helped you. You're sure you can physically feel the smile on his lips as he presses his face against your neck, as he holds you tighter than his thin arms would suggest he could.

And as you bury your face in his shiny hair and hear him practically squeal as you kiss him there, you realise it isn't just your body that's been warmed up...

No, you're feeling cozy and fuzzy from the inside out; a warmth that comes straight from the heart.

[leclerc-hs]

snowballs - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x nanny!reader (fem) summary: in which you bake cookies with charles and his daughter but still end up on your knees warnings: some cute fluff?, 18+, slight smut, oral (m-receiving), bad french (please correct me!!! i don't speak french), not proofread word count: 1,342 author's note: merry christmas eve (ya filthy animals) lmaooo. also loling at the title. leaving this here for y'all. single dad Charles has me in a complete chokehold. this is not a part 2, just a little Christmas themed drabble if you wanna call it that. if you didn’t read THIS yet, then go do it.

french edits made by @dannyramirezwife !!! (my angel)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE AIR WAS filled with the sweet scent of pine and cinnamon, instantly putting you in a festive mood as soon as you arrived today. Soft, twinkling lights adorn the walls and windows, casting a warm and inviting glow throughout the space. Throughout the apartment, the sound of classic Christmas tunes plays softly in the background.

The kitchen, where all three of you stood, was pure chaos. Bowls varying sizes are strewn across the countertops, each bearing the remnants of different stages of the baking process. A mixing bowl, its sides smeared with sticky remnants of cookie dough, sits next to a flour-dusted measuring cup. Multiple trays of already baked cookies, sat cooling atop the stove. It truly was a mess.

“Papa! Vous ne pouvez pas manger ça!” You can’t eat those! She exclaimed in fits of laughter. Her face was absolutely covered in ingredients. No doubt from sneaking licks of cookie dough and frosting when she thought that nobody was looking. Flour coated her hands and arms, and some had found its way to her rosy cheeks.

“Ils sont pour le Père Noël!” They’re for Santa! You agreed with her. Swatting him with one of the Christmas themed hand towels that was nearby, before returning to decorating the cookies that lay in front of you.

Charles emitted a resounding gasp, skillfully weaving of feigned anguish. His reaction unfolded with a theatrical flair; a symphony of emotion portrayed through a dramatic hand gesture that traversed the journey of his fist to his chest. It mimicked the palpable sensation of being struck, an artful display of simulated injury. “Un autre homme reçoit tout cela?” Another man gets all of these?

With an indulgent smile, you playfully orchestrate a slow, deliberate roll of your eyes in response to his theatrics. Unfazed by the charming display, you redirect your attention solely to the task at hand – meticulously adorning the remaining cookies with festive embellishments. The ambiance in the room becomes a delightful blend of shared amusement as you all work hard finishing them all.

Charles soon excused himself to his bedroom to gather a call regarding some car testing that happened earlier this week. 

As you were on the verge of releasing a hearty sigh, ready to vocalize your exhaustion, your attention diverted to the drowsy four-year-old near you. Her delicate features were gently pressed against the countertop, closed in the embrace of slumber. A wave of endearment washed over you. Suppressing a giggle, you marveled at the sheer adorableness of the scene, momentarily setting aside your fatigue to savor the precious sight before you.

Tenderly, you gathered her into your arms, cradling her like a precious bundle. With each careful step echoed through the familiar path leading to her room, where the soft glow of ambient light revealed the traces of a day well spent.

Arriving at her bed, you marveled at the cherubic expression on her face. Softly, you attempted to wipe away the remnants of flour that adorned her tiny arms and face, a silent acknowledgment of the shared joy in the day’s baking escapade. Deciding that it was best to let her sleep than to wake her to bathe her now. The sheets could always be washed later. In that quiet moment, you sat on the floor beside her bed, just smiling at her. The room became a sanctuary, where the gentle act of care echoed the love woven into the fabric of the night.

Unbeknownst to you, Charles stood silently in the doorway, quietly observing the intimate scene before him. A swell of emotion gripped his heart as he beheld the tender scene – there you were, alongside his daughter, the warmth of familial connection radiating from your shared moments. In that unspoken exchange, a poignant desire filled his heart, longing for the sense of family that seemed to effortlessly bloom in your presence. His heart was full of want for you.

“Sugar crash?” His voice, soft and unexpected, caught you off guard, prompting an instinctive flinch. As you turned your head, you found Charles slowly approaching, his tall figure standing gracefully behind where you were seated. His captivating green eyes remained fixed on you, their beauty holding a silent intensity, never once wavering from your presence. 

“Oui,” you softly smiled. “Je devrais aller nettoyer,” I should go clean up. You stood to your feet as Charles pressed a soft kiss to his sleeping girl and brushed her hair out of her face.

Back in the kitchen, it truly looked like a tornado had hit the room. Standing amidst the culinary chaos, you contemplated where to even begin when, suddenly, a pair of hands playfully seized your waist, diverting your attention.

“Tu me rends fou,” You drive me crazy.

His lips pressed softly into the swell of your neck, his tongue pressing against your cookie batter covered skin. “Tellement doux,” So sweet.

Your stomach clenched with butterflies as he spun you around, holding you close to him. Slowly, he brings his index finger to the corner of your mouth, wiping a speck of dough off you and bringing it to your lips.

He doesn’t even need to tell you before your opening your mouth, wrapping your tongue around his finger to lick it off. You stare up at him in the process, witnessing the color of his eyes darken as you release his finger with a ‘pop’.

“Je te rends toujours folle?” Still drive you crazy?

You observed the Adam’s apple in his neck bobbing with a pronounced gulp. The veins in his neck stood out prominently, evidence of his teeth being clenched.

You slowly made your way to your knees, trailing your hands down his body, feeling his taut muscles through the confines of his sweatpants. You skillfully looped your fingers into his waistband, pulling them down to free his hard length. Not too far away, was some spare cookie dough on the island of the kitchen. To which, you reached one arm up and grabbed, spreading some of it onto him, a smirk graced your lips as you heard him groan. 

“Mon dieu,” My God. He physically had to lean forward, hunching over you, in order to grip the kitchen counter top as soon as your tongue met him.

You moaned at the taste of him and the cookie dough.

He half-chuckled as his hips bucked further into your mouth, chasing after his pleasure. He inhaled sharply, trying to relax, but you were eager and adamant on getting him there. You were so so so eager to please him. 

Your hand gripped him, collecting the spit on your fingers, spreading it all over his hot skin, while you suckled gently at his sensitive tip.

“Mmm, fuck,” He couldn’t get full words out as you sunk him deeper into your mouth, his tip scraping the walls of your throat. The burning in his stomach was rising as he watched you eagerly take every inch of him. You moaned at the taste of him, the vibrations pushing him even closer to the edge.

His face was completely flushed now as you bobbed up and down, essentially choking on him. Keeping your voice down, you pulled off of him again.

“Je te veux partout sur ma langue,” Want you all over my tongue. Your whimpery tone sent him over the edge almost instantly. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he repeated. The muscles of his arms bulging as he gripped the edge of the countertop tightly. Your eyes were wet with tears, but you were satisfied as he filled your mouth. Your tongue ran over the tip once more, licking up every drop, before he took a step back from you. 

You grinned lazily at him as you stood to your feet. His chest was rising and down deeply as he tried to catch his breath.

“Complètement fou,” Fucking crazy. He murmurs, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. 

“Il est temps de nettoyer!” Time to clean! You clap your hands together, devious to escape his touch. 

But you both know, that he won’t let you off the hook that easily.

[millersfinest]

the thing in your chest that beats ⁴ | e.w

santa barbara!ellie williams & ex-firefly!reader

wc: 5.9k

mini-series: california | oregon | idaho | wyoming (you’re here)

tags: @elliecoochieeater

blurb: you put up a good fight with those rattlers, but it wasn’t good enough—all it got you was strung up near a beach where the sun scorched you dry. abruptly, their set-up gets fucked by their own prisoners, saving your life by only a thread. but the wrath that lingered under your skin was immense, and you’re not the only one to experience that phenomenon. when another damaged soul encounters your brittle state; the dreams that put you in a tough position manifest into reality. along with a few extra miscellaneous things…

cw: healing!reader, healing!ellie, vulgar language, ellie being avoidant as hell, slow-burn romance, little jj, reader being really depressed at the beginning, little time jump, sexual content but not smut per se, pure sugary sweet ending (almost pissed ME off)

note: omg final chapter!! i didn’t really know how i wanted to end it, so i went through scenic route. i hope you guys enjoyed my little series, because i had fun writing it.

wyoming

For the first time in a long time, you were cozy—absolutely bored and comfortable, and what a delight that was! The settlement in Jackson was everything that you had hoped for. It was warm and welcoming. Not by everyone, but by enough to want this place to feel like home. When the moon replaced the sun and the stars trickled over the night sky, warm yellow lights flickered on. Draping over the center of the settlement, where the establishments flourished. Lighting up a path that was being adorned by the first snow of the year.

It’s been a while since you’ve seen snow in all its icy glory; you were nothing but a child then. Waking up from a troubled sleep, in a spacious home that you could call your own, you shuffled to a frosted window. With your arms wrapped around your body, looking to see minute flurries fluttering from the sky. Collecting in piles on the outer edge of your windowsill.

After a month of already being in Wyoming, at the settlement, reality had set in. You were no longer a soldier, or a slave, or a traveler. Finally, you have made it to the place that was nestled in your mind for endless days, weeks and months.

Relief. Solace. Everything you’ve ever wanted. Except for one thing.

The house was a two-story home, with beige striped wallpaper; mahogany wood accenting arches separating rooms, cabinets, bannisters and floor boards. Upon your arrival, it was already furnished. A long, soft maroon couch. Decorated with quilts and knitted blankets from neighbors. A square wool carpet laid flat under a mahogany coffee table. Lamps in various places, warmly illuminating the room.

A dark wood dining table. Iron cookware. Upstairs, a quiet bed frame with a decent mattress and comforter on top. A couple of pillows. Two dressers. A proportionate closet—this house looked like a home. Minus the adjustments and additions you were planning for. However, it didn’t quite feel like a home.

It was empty… Or you were empty.

Since your arrival, talking with Ellie became a challenge. You rarely saw her; it was like she handed you off to the officials of Jackson’s and dusted her hands from you. It was dramatic to ruminate over a woman who’s only obligation was to get you to Wyoming—to this community. That’s what you tried to tell yourself to stay in line, but it wasn’t working. Even after busying yourself with different jobs and tasks to start earning your keep, you still thought of her.

Hell, you caught glimpses of her. Jackson wasn’t that big. She’d be walking hand-in-hand with a small child, a toddler, talking intimately with a dark-haired woman. You saw them together often. It could only be assumed that they were important—her ex-girlfriend and son. Well, now, you were uncertain if that was her ex-girlfriend… But, again, you shouldn’t be ruminating. You got what you wanted, remember?

It was an early morning when Maria had asked to meet with you, at a coffee shop in the middle of the square. Dressed in an insulated coat with a hoodie underneath, a pair of trusted light-wash jeans and black leather boots; you began a trek from the corner of the settlement in a light layer of snow. The asphalt wasn’t cold enough to let it fester just yet, but the grass held onto the ice. Headphones rested over your ears, playing a tape gifted to you as a housewarming gift from your young neighbor.

Some old rock band from the 90s. Nirvana’s About A Girl played in your ears as your boots crunched the snow.

It took about four songs off the album for you to get to the coffee shop. Pulling the flimsy headphones down to rest around your neck, you entered the shop looking for a head of sleek blonde hair. An aroma of burning coffee beans and sugar infiltrated your nose. Small chatter was heard from people holding warm mugs, looking at old newspapers, reading novels.

From a table in the far corner of the shop, Maria stood to wave you over. A friendly smile spread across your lips, taut and plastered, as you approached the square wooden table. “G’Morning, Maria.” You reached your hand out to shake her hand, professionally.

She looked down at your hand, snickering. Impressed by your insistence on professionalism. After all, she basically was your employer. It was the one thing the fireflies taught you well—respect your superiors. “Good Mornin’,” Maria firmly shook your hand, taking her seat.

The heaters in the shop toasted up your exposed skin, causing you to remove your jacket before sitting down in the seat across from the older woman. Two cups warm mugs were put in front of you, almost on cue, by a young girl with a maroon apron. “Thank you, Melissa.” She smiled at the barista. “I wasn’t sure if you liked coffee, so I just ordered you a hot chocolate. Hope that’s all right.”

“Oh, it’s fine. No complaints here.”

“Good.” Maria curtly nodded her head, pulling a black binder from a bag hanging on the back of a chair. “You’ve been sleeping well in that house?” Dabbing her middle finger on her tongue, she sifted through the pages and hand-written documents.

You blink, wrapping your hands around the ceramic mug. “There’s good nights and bad nights…” Nodding, you attempt to take a sip of the hot beverage, but it was too scolding. “Not the fault of the house, just me.” The ends of your lips curl as a softener to your words. Being negative in the face of someone who granted you a place to stay felt like a crime.

Maria hummed, looking up at with genuine blue eyes. “Well, I hope there are more good nights than bad nights.”

“Yeah, of course!” You shrugged, answering entirely too quickly. Which certainly gave away the fact that you telling the truth. Her icy blues were intimidating, although you’ve seen much worse than a pair of eyes.

Falling asleep alone, in the dark was another challenge you had to face. After spending months on the road with someone, knowing they’re there… It was an eerie feeling being far from them—being along. Especially, those last few weeks leading up to knocking on the community’s door. Whenever you found a place to camp out for the night, her arms would be wrapped around you. Or your arms wrapped around her. Relishing in each other’s clothed or bare bodies; it had become a tragic comfort.

Your skin burned for her like it did on that fucking pillar. It tingled, ached and wanted for her touch. Her lips. Her eyes. Her hands.

The nightmare’s of your traumas persisted when you closed your eyes. You wanted to blame it on Ellie’s absence, but they rarely surrendered with her around. But at least when you woke up, boiling, sweating and heaving like you’d just run a marathon, a pair of arms were there to lull you back to sleep. Kissing the back of your neck to remind you that you weren’t there anymore—that you were safe.

And, when she had her moments, shooting up from your arms with tears rolling down her cheeks. You coaxed her back to sleep with her head on your chest, and affirming whispers.

You couldn’t help but wonder if those moments meant as much to her as they did to you.

She hummed at your response, pursing her lips. “If you’re having any problems let me know. I have some great remedies to help with sleep.” The blonde woman offers, a soft smile spreading on her lips. You nodded, chewing on the soft skin inside of your lip. “Now,” Maria begins. “I see that you’ve had some time to try out some of the positions we offer. Have any taken your interest?”

Flipping through a couple of pages, she continues. “I’ve heard great things from Ava Marin, she manages the patrols. Uhm, and Mrs Hayworth, from the gardens and greenhouse…”

“Mrs Hayworth is a very kind woman. I enjoyed working with her— she’s great at explaining things.” You compliment, thinking about the few days you spent with her planting vegetables and fruit. Her salt and pepper hair puffed in coils around her cherubic but wrinkled face. Crowd feet leading to a pair of squinty hazel eyes. Mrs Hayworth treated her plants like they were her children, and she enforced you to do the same.

“She is— wonderful woman.” Maria agreed.

Humming, you think about all the jobs your tried—which was a lot. Patrol was something that you were used to. Being out in the world wasn’t a grand change. However, you weren’t certain that you wanted to go beyond the walls so often. You’ve spent lots of time patrolling, surveying, killing infected—you wanted to hang that up. Every once in a while wouldn’t hurt, though. “If I were to sign up to help out with the gardens… Would that mean that patrolling would be off limits?”

The blonde woman shook her head, pursing her lips. “Not at all! For patrol, it’s in a sign-up basis. If you were to mainly do patrol, it would mean going out every other day. If you were to mainly work the gardens, that would be more of a consistent job— but you could still sign-up for patrols if you wanted.” Maria informed. “As long as you’ve been approved to go, and you have.”

“Hm…” You thought, weighing your options. The inner rage that you harbored had remained dormant since you arrived. It had been replaced with rumination and sadness for things out of your control. “Gardening full-time seems serene… I’ve spent enough time out there.” Nodding, with a subtle curl to the corners of your lips, you admitted.

Maria begins to scribble with a pen on a sheet of paper, connected to the rings in the binder. “Sounds fitting. But, of course, you can change your mind anytime.”

After you deal with business, Maria continues conversation with you. Casual, of course. You could tell she was trying to pry without being obvious—wanting to know more about you. Willingly, you gave in, because why not? It’s been a long time since you’ve had a real conversation with someone. Maria Miller seemed genuine enough.

However, when she brought up Ellie, the air stiffened. And you could tell she noticed it.

“You and Ellie… Have you spoken, lately? It’s been hard getting a hold of her— it’s like she’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time.” She chortles, taking a sip of her coffee. Pressing her lips together at the bitter taste.

Stunned by the mention of her, you shook your head. Fingers growing numb around the warm, untouched, hot chocolate. “Uhm, no I haven’t…”

She hummed, leaning her head to the start. “That’s odd.” Maria scoffs, bunching her eyebrows. “She made it seem like you two were very close— being that you traveled so far together…” It’s like she was thinking out loud, making you want to bolt from the wooden chair holding onto you. “I mean, she made sure that you got the best house in Jackson… I would assume that she would’ve at least visited—“

“Well, she hasn’t.” Sternly interrupting her, you inhaled, sharply.

Noticing the mistake, she sighed, looking at with blue eyes filled with pity. It irked you. Trying to fix it, Maria plastered a bittersweet smile on her lips. “She’s more like Tommy than I thought.” Bunching your eyebrows, she continued. “My husband— ex-husband— I don’t know… It’s complicated.”

You know the feeling… Kind of.

Ellie had told you about Tommy Miller. He was a very ambitious man, to say the least. Ambitious enough to send a grieving girl to kill someone in his absence—feeding off her own despair. You caught that much. But, if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have ever met her. What a selfish thought. “They’re both hermits in their own right, but they always come around.” She released a wistful sigh. “Ellie will come around… Just give her some time to get all her ducks in a row.”

With tight lips, you nodded. How much time? You desperately wanted to ask, but you didn’t. Instead, you stood up, pulling your jacket over your shoulders. “Thank you so much for the hot chocolate, Maria, but I have to go.” Speaking quickly, you slid your arms into your puffer jacket. Maria abruptly stood to her feet with an inquisitive expression.

“Oh, well, uhm,” She began, rubbing her hands together. “Of course. You’re schedule should be out in the next few days. Consider the meantime your sabbatical.” Her eyes drifted over your frame like a concerned mother. “It was a pleasure talking with you, y/n. I’m glad you could join us here.”

Sending another tight-lipped smile her way, you stuck your hands into your pockets. “I’m glad you let me. See you around.”

Leaving the coffee shop, the cold air was a smack in the face. Pulling you from shackles of solemnity—briefly. Raising your headphones back around your ears, you resumed the tape inside of the Walkman clipped to your hip.

Thin flurries of snow began to fall from the bright grey clouds. Trickling over the strands of your hair, melting in contact. Stuffing your hands back into your pockets, you walked down the icy path of the square.

The main square in Jackson was littered with people. Some were standing around conversing, with cigarettes in their hands. Some worked pulling supplies in large wooden carts, moving them to another establishment. You seen a man on a ladder fixing a broken light on the outside of a pub. And a woman walking a train of small children holding hands—like they were on a field trip of some kind. They laughed and giggled under knit beanies, bundled in their jackets that may have been too big for some.

A smile appeared on your lips as you watched them march by you.

You stopped at an art store, looking up at the wooden sign. Quoting Maria, you were on sabbatical; so, you wanted to use this time to fully explore the settlement. In the month that you’ve been in Jackson, you have visited the local pub more often than you’d like to admit. Entering the store, a bell sounded, and you smiled at the few people walking around the decorated shop.

Organic paints and brushes were located in the back corner of the store, taking up two walls and some floor space. While the rest of the store harbored artwork from the people who lived in the community. And some refurbished work found outside the wall. A sign on the wall read: talk to an attendant for group and private classes. You hummed, impressed by the normalcy. Perhaps, you could sign up for one.

Meandering around, your eyes survey the paintings and drawings. Thinking about your home, it could use some personalization. You came across a landscape portrait of two women. The strokes emulated grass—olive tones—that they were lying on—intertwined with each other. Arms and legs entangled. Lips grazing each others cheeks. The strokes that were made were intentionally blurry and messy. Who were these women? Was their relationship as unofficial and indifferent as your own?

Fingers grazing the canvas of the painting, you couldn’t help but think of that freckle-faced woman you’ve grown to adore.

“You interested in that one? Nice choice.”

Even though your headphones played Nirvana in your ears, you could still recognize the outsourced voice. Her voice was like honey. Soft, warm honey. Luring you like a spell spoken by a witch or warlock. God, you missed the sound of her voice. “Funny thing is… The woman who painted this actually has a husband.” She chuckled, glancing at you with a nervous glint.

You froze at the sound of her voice, eyes glued to the art before you. Just blinking. Buh bum. Buh hum. Your heart beat in your ears, in your chest, in your hands—everywhere! Skin growing hot as if you were sat in front of a furnace. Were you mad or just upset? It was hard to tell, even for yourself.

The smile on her lips faded, immediately. Fiddling with her fingers—she always did that. “How’re you settling in—?”

“I’ve already settled in…” Your voice was eerily calm, side-eying her as you spoke. “I haven’t seen you in five weeks, Ellie.”

She sighed, adjusting the knit cap over her hair. Licking her lips, nervously. “I know—“

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.” When you finally look at her, she notices the irateness in your eyes. Crowding over the feelings of yearning and sorrow.

“Can we talk? Please, just let me explain.”

Gritting your jaw, you peer at her. Thinking about hashing it out within a small walk. But, you were tender, sensitive—you couldn’t be sure that your reaction wouldn’t be explosive. What if she told you she was getting back with Dina? Going back to her family. That alone could send you into ruins. And you too far from your house to escape the public once you unleashed hell upon that woman. “You know where I live.” You told, with a pinched expression.

That was your cue to leave the store, pulling your hoodie over your head. Maybe, today wasn’t the day to tour the community. Another day. Plus, you had to spend the rest of the day anticipating a knock at your door.

It was a glum walk back to your place. You had put your Walkman on pause, walking in a depressive silence. Each step you made up your porch was deliberate and slow. An old swing chair swung in the wind, bolts shaking once you put your weight on the porch. It wrapped around the entire front of the house, and it definitely needed more décor.

Entering your house, you hung up your jacket and kicked off your shoes at the door. Stalking up your staircase, leaning in the railing, you made your way to your bedroom. The un-made bed beckoned you; so you kicked the door closed, and jumped under your covers. Hopefully, getting some shut eye could ease your nerves.

The sleep was rocky—you were in and out. In the moments when you awoke, you pulled a book from your bedside table to read—George Eliot—hoping to fall back asleep. But the novel only intrigued you for hours. Distracting from that anticipation long enough for it to come sooner than you expected.

It was dark, but it was no later than six-thirty.

You approached the door with a heavy heart, sliding your fluffy socks across the wooden floor. The reveal of the woman on your porch caused your body to heat up once more. She turned around, still dressed in the clothes from earlier.

“Hey,”

“Hey…”

Pressing her lips into an awkward line. “Nice porch.”

Scrunching your eyebrows at the compliment, you abandoned the door while it was ajar. Telling her to enter without losing your dignity. Ellie stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. “Shoes off.” You tell her, waving a hand, carelessly.

Walking to the kitchen, you threw onto the stove a metal kettle filled water. While your innate anger was healing, there was still pridefulness about you. You had to have some sort of control over any situation that you’re in. Ellie came to your house; this conversation was on your terms. And it was going to stay that way.

Ellie had navigated around your living room, feeling the softness of the carpet under her feet. I did good. She thought. Ellie taking part in the decision making for your accommodations was true. She wanted to give you the absolute best, because she knew she was going to need some time alone.

Appearing from around the corner, you leaned against the mahogany frame lining the entrance to the living room. With your arms stubbornly crossed over your chest. “You have about seven to eight minutes before that kettle goes off, and when it does, this conversation is over.”

She slid the hat from her head, dragging it down to the place over her belly button. Kneading the fabric with her thumbs. “Do you not want me here?” Her voice cracked, hands smacking down at her sides. “Because we can talk another time—“

“Six minutes.”

Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “You know, what?” Ellie scoffed, striding past you toward your kitchen. Irritation rushing through her nerves. It confused her how she could be so obsessed with someone who might’ve been more stubborn than herself.

You followed her into the kitchen. “What the hell are you doing?”

The woman reached for the kettle, taking it off the small flame. Flicking off the fire, she turned to look at you. “You’re not gonna give me six minutes to explain myself— I’m not gonna let you rush this.”

“I’m not rushing anything.”

Narrowing her eyes, she crossed her arms. Leaning her back against the counter, coolly. “Are you seriously insulting my intelligence, right now?” Ellie raised an eyebrow, mocking words that you’ve said in the past.

Squinting your eyes, glaringly, you scoff. “Just… Talk, Ellie.” You waved your hand, leaning on the threshold bordering the kitchen and the small foyer. Perhaps, you were pushing it a bit too far.

The auburn-haired woman sighed behind speaking. Placing her hands on the edge of the counter. “When I left… It was an immediate decision— made in the middle of the night in a farmhouse I shared with my girlfriend, now ex-girlfriend, and my kid.” She began, eyeing you intently. “I left my family behind, y/n, including Maria and Tommy and anyone else in this fucking community that I knew.” Her hands moved as she spoke, passionately. “In that moment, I don’t think I ever planned to come back. There was nothing to come back to…

Then, I met you. When I thought I traveled so far for nothing— I met you.” Her olive eyes looked to the ceiling, thinking. While your heart blundered under your ribs. “Coming back was never my intention, and I left that way. So, when I walked through those doors… I had a lot of work to do. A lot of bridges to mend and gain the trust of again— which I’m still doing, by the way.”

Her hand jutted out, before slapping against her thighs. “I didn’t mean to ghost you like that. Truthfully, I was overwhelmed.” The woman confessed, scratching the back of her head. “For the first two weeks, I was begging for Dina to let me see JJ, my son. For the next, I was arguing with Tommy for letting Abby go— it was a lot. And I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to put any of that on you.” Pursing your lips, you nodded. “You’ve been through enough… I was protecting you. I wanted you to just focus on settling in.”

“Well, it was hard settling in without you.” It almost came out like a whisper—a little louder than a whisper. Followed by a dry, stubborn chortle. “I spent months on the road with you, and it’s like you just hung me out to dry. That fucking sucked.” Averting your eyes, you peered at the shining floorboards.

She nodded, frowning at your downcast expression. But, there was an element of proudness. Give or take a few weeks back, you’d argue her down over anything. However, this time, vulnerability leaked from you. Poured from your words and demeanor like liquid gold. “I know, and I’m really sorry. It was fucked up. But it will never happen again— I swear to you.”

“What if something else comes up?” You question, chewing on the skin inside your lip.

“I’ll clue you in— every time.”

You hummed, raising an eyebrow. “What’s the status on you and Dina?”

Ellie rubs her nose with her index finger, ready to answer your rapid-fire questions. “Cordial co-parents.”

“Does she know about us?”

A goofy smile spreads across her plump lips. “We’re an us?”

Narrowing your eyes at her, fighting a little grin, you responded. “Answer the question, Ellie!”

“Oh, my God! Yes, she knows about us, and she’s happy for me.” With amused features, she begins to slowly approach you. “Now, are you done with the twenty questions game? Because you haven’t accepted my apology once…” She pouted, sliding her hands over your arms, pulling them from their crossed position.

Batting your eyes at her, feigning thought. The touch of her fingers on you sparked a fire, setting your skin ablaze. Even if it was in your best interest not to accept her apology, you probably still would. The way her eyes looked into you with such gentleness—it couldn’t be replicated by anyone else. “I accept your apology…” You admit, grazing your fingers up the sleeves of her flannel.

“Fuck, yes!” She wasted no time to embrace you, wrapping her arms around your neck. Tightly, you wrapped your arms around her back, leaning your head over her shoulder. “I missed you. I hope you’ll let me make it up to you?”

“You have no choice but to make it up to me.” You spoke against her exposed skin, pecking the side of her neck. “For the sake of lost time.”

Ellie giggled at the brush of your lips, pulling away with raised eyebrows. “Oh, shit. I almost forgot— be right back.” She runs to your front door pulling it open, and leaning to the side to grab a flipped canvas that was leaning against the outside brick wall. It was the portrait you were considering buying at the art store. “Housewarming present!” She grinned, presenting it in front of herself.

You matched her smile, reaching out to take it from her. “That woman is totally gay for making this.”

“So gay. I feel bad for her husband.”

Sharing a laugh, you look back at her, setting the canvas to the side against the wall. Walking up to her, you grabbed her face, caressing the skin of her cheeks. Musing at her earthy features, taking them all in like you’d never see her again. The last time you saw her, it’s like you took it for granted—not knowing if it was going to be a while before you got to look at her the way you wanted to. Leaning into her, you pressed your lips against hers, unabashedly. Her hands found comfort at the divot of your waist, pulling you flush against her.

Sliding your hands down to the nape of her neck, the kiss deepened. You whined into her mouth when she slipped her tongue between your lips. With the combination of her grip on your waist and the taste of her lips, you wanted to merge your bodies—so she could never leave your side again. You’ve survived enough tragic loss; was it so bad to want this one thing? The touch of your troubled lover.

Ellie backed you against the wall, muttering against your lips. “I wanna take my time with you…” She began to trail hot kisses over your cheek, down your jaw, to the sensitive parts of your neck. “Show you…” Smack. “Just how much…” Smack. “I love you.”

Under the waistband of your jeans, you throbbed, but the thing beating inside your chest swelled and beat louder. “Y— You love me?” The tips of your fingers scratched at her scalp, comfortingly. As she pulled her face from your neck, her freckled cheeks flushed.

“Yeah, I do.” Her thumb came up to caress your jaw. “I really do.”

That was your cue to completely devour her. You pulled her upstairs, into your bedroom, to ravish her—to ravish each other. Stripping from your clothes to come unto one another with a sickening love. Her lips traced every part of your body; suckling, nibbling, tonguing down the most sensitive parts. Pulling moans from your diaphragm, seamlessly. She cooed for you and spoke filthily in your ear while touching you with a gentle firmness that only she could replicate over and over—making you come undone hard. As if the universe came from within you.

Stars, planets, galaxies—celestial bodies!

You and Ellie were two halves of one whole. Everything that led up to that beach happened with the purpose of bringing the scorned together. To cancel it out, blossoming something much greater. Somehow, you proved to each other that you were both worth saving. No matter the sin. No matter the guilt. It was all worth it to end up wrapped in her arms, skin to skin, caressing her battered epidermis.

As months progressed, gearing up for the spring season, Ellie had long moved her stuff in. Her easel and unfinished works nestled in the guest room. Her clothes were stuffed beside yours in the drawer before your bed, and the closet beside your door. Bringing in sunrises with sleepy, feathered kisses and innocent touches. It was a dream you both got the chance to live out.

This wasn’t enduring or surviving—it was living. Experiencing life.

With your hands covered in dirt, replanting a radish, joyful voices were behind your back. Looking over your shoulder, a tiny frame was trotting toward you, calling your name. Ellie in his trail, with her hands in her pockets.

Gasping, you turned around with a grin. “Hey, buddy!” You opened your arms for him to promptly land in them. Keeping your hands far from his jacket so the soil wouldn’t dirty him up.

“Careful, JJ, she’s working!” She tried, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, Ellie, it’s fine.” You waved a dirty hand, sliding them off your fingers, dropping them onto the grass. So you could reach under his arms to hoist him onto your hip. The sun landed just right on his little head, sparkling off his small growing teeth.

Ellie’s lips curled at the sight. “He wanted to come visit you at work before I dropped him off.” She meandered toward you, pecking your lips.

“Just JJ? Or you, too?”

“Both of us, whatever.” Playfully, she rolled her eyes. “Plus, I had to remind you of our dinner date tonight— its mandatory. You can’t be late.” Her fingers pushed fallen pieces of your hair from your forehead.

Once you had gotten into the grove of gardening, time flew by. It would go from seven in the morning to eight in the afternoon like it was nothing. Causing you to miss out on some of the plans you made with your generous lover. “You’ve been reminding me since I got up this morning. Trust me, I remember, Ellie.” You squeezed his chubby cheek, cooing at him. “Ugh, I love him.” You gushed, peering between him and your girlfriend.

“Oh!” You pulled a folded-up paper from your back pocket. “JJ, you wanna do me a big favor?”

His eyebrows lifted, grinning.

“Give your mama back this recipe for me, all right?” He takes the paper in his hands, preparing to unfold it. “Promise me you’ll give it to her…”

“I promise!”

“Okay, bud. Tuck it tight into your pocket until you get there.”

Instead of unfolding, he pushed it into the pocket of his coat, messily. Patting it, to let you know it was inside. Kissing him on his cheek, you put him back on the ground. Eyes glancing at the watch on your wrist. “Well, I gotta get back to work.” Your hand found hers by her side, leaning your body toward her arm. “Thanks for visiting me, babe. Letting me see that beautiful face of yours.”

Ellie blushed, averting her glazing eyes. You leaned your head closer to hers, warmly kissing her cheek. “My pleasure…”

“I’m sure.” You teased, inconspicuously biting her ear. Quick enough that it went unseen to the surrounding people, and JJ as he played with the leaves sticking out of the garden. Ellie released an airy sigh, narrowing her eyes at you. She whined your name as if she were embarrassed. “Don’t be like that— you know I love you.”

“I love you more… But you have to chill. Mrs Hayworth is right there.”

“You don’t know Mrs Hayworth like I do.” You snicker, waving a hand to the older woman a few bins away. The salt and pepper haired woman waved, sending a teasing wink. Ellie looked back at your with confused, and slightly horrified, features. “I’ll tell you about it later. At the dinner I’m not going to be late to.”

“And you better not.” Ellie poked you, with pouty lips.

“Ellie, I won’t.”

“Okay, I believe you.” She kissed you one more time. A little longer. A little deeper. “I won’t keep you from the vegetables anymore. JJ, say buh-byes.” He jumps from a squat, waving his hand with a smile. “I’ll see you later. C’mon, kid.” Ellie hoisted him up into her hip and began walking back the way she came to deliver him to Dina’s. Leaving you with metaphorical heart eyes, pulling your gloves back onto your hands.

And, when later came; over a hearty chicken dinner prepared by Ellie Williams herself, a shiny silver band was presented to you in the pages of a book. Laying over an underlined and highlighted excerpt of the book—something you highlighted. It was a novel you had finished sometime between the end of December and early January.

“‘What greater thing is there for two human souls, than to feel that they are joined for life–to strengthen each other in all labour, to rest on each other in all sorrow, to minister to each other in all pain, to be one with each other in silent unspeakable memories at the moment of the last parting?’” Ellie had recited, evenly. With not a speckle of wavering, or awkwardness, or pause—unless it was intentional. “Adam Bede. Your favorite book… I hope it’s your favorite book.”

Jumping from your chair across from her, you leaped into her arms after placing the book into the dinner table. Pecking your lips across her face. “Yes! Yes! Ellie, a million fucking times, yes!”

“I didn’t even ask the question.” She laughed in your ear, looking up at you with dilated pupils.

Pulling back, you narrowed your tearing eyes at her. “You don’t have to. I already said yes.”

“But isn’t that the exciting part… Popping the question?”

You scrunched your eyebrows. “I thought the exciting part was me saying yes to marrying you…?”

Ellie spent days studying George Eliot, hours setting up the dinner, and minutes shaking with anxiety. Working herself up to saying those magic four words, only for your to swipe the chance right from under her. And, honestly, she loved you more for it. “All right, can I at least put the damn ring on your finger?”

“‘Course, you can, Els.” You pull the book toward you, opening it up on the page with the ring. Ellie takes it from your fingers, glancing at you with opalescent olive eyes. She slid it onto your ring finger, delicately twisting the band around. You grinned, hopelessly, with your bottom lip between your teeth.

Her hand trailed up your arm, squeezing. “My lucky charm…” She muttered, thoughtfully.

“I’m all yours.” You lean close to her lips, glancing at them. “And you’re all mine.”

Neither of you were able to finish the dinner while it was hot.

[moodymisty]

Hello! So, this is based on an ask I sent a little while back, the one about how the reader keeps asking vulkan for various jewellery and basically coordinating it into jewellery lingerie one day, to try and make him snap. May I ask for a little scenario of his reaction, please? Thank you! Have a wonderful day!

Author's note: I ain't gonna just say no to Vulkan like, mmmmm

Relationships: Vulkan/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Size kink, Jewelry, Kind of rough sex but the loving kind, Creampies, breeding kink and tokophobia warning

"Tell me, Master of the Forge," Your smile was wide, teasing; Looking up at him with a mirth he's quite familiar with. "Do you take requests?"

Vulkan laughed, sticking something into the water with a deafening hiss. Steam rises from it- once it's cooled the primarch sets it aside and returns to you his full attention.

"From you? Always, my love."

Vulkan has made you so many things, beautiful pieces of jewelry that glimmer almost unnaturally. He's made you weapons, but he says he prefers not to. He wants to keep you away from such cruelty, and to widen his skillset with delicate little things you love.

"Could you make me an anket? Two, actually, that match?"

He looks at you a bit oddly, before smiling. He reaches for a few things and sets them on the anvil.

"Of course."

Those anklets had been the last pieces you'd needed for what you had in mind, made shortly before he left Nocturne. You stayed, guarded in his home by many of his sons.

Your sons as well soon enough, if Vulkan has his way. Though they already seem to treat you as if that's the case judging by their vehement defense of you and fondness of your guiding words. They're cute, you won't lie.

Putting every piece of jewelry he's made for you on it bathes your body in gold and a gallery of gems both names and not, shining from the dim light you meticulously set up. You glimmer brighter than a stained glass window, a jewel encrusted crown couldn't spit at the feet of how embellished you were in finery.

You know he's finally returned, his men were quite eager to tell you, and after he removes his armor and greets them, his next stop will be you. You need to make sure it's all ready in time, clasping the last of many necklaces around your throat and scurrying to lie in bed.

It takes significant effort to get on the massive mattress, but Vulkan had it lowered off it's frame so the inhumanly large bed is just about on the floor, and rests at the height of a normal bed for you. It's still wide as a sea however, and you splay yourself out in the ocean of blankets and fiddle with the various chains and gems that lay on your skin as you wait for him. You didn't want even a single one tangled or flipped, they had to be perfect.

It should be any moment now, if you timed it out correctly. Your eyes are locked in the door listening for even the slightest movement on the other side of it; Though only when your eyes begin to wander back to one of your bracelets does something change.

"Love?"

You hear his deep voice come closer, through the thick door before he opens it. It gently creaks open, as if he's wondering if you might be asleep.

"I have returned, It's been so long since I last heard your-"

Vulkan enters the room and stalls completely upon the sight of your gilded form. You wanted to say hello, but the look on his face makes your throat close up completely in something nearing fear.

Vulkan slams the door shut and locks it with newfound force, approaching you with speed in his strides. You let out a delighted squeal as he grips your ankle and yanks you to him from the center of the bed, bringing you right into his arms.

"Ah, ah, ah,"

Coherent sentences were long since lost on you, panting mindlessly as Vulkan pushes the fat head of his cock past your loosened, cum filled entrance for the umpteenth time. Each time he pulls out it stays ready for him, bullied open and used to him. Your voice is far past screaming, you used most of it up well over an hour ago. Now it's just a sore, scratchy whimper. The blanket below you is stained with spit, but cradles your head gently.

You were worried that someone might hear, there are guards posted not far in any direction, but Vulkan fucked that concern out of you along with most of your other factulties.

He's had you in so many different ways you've since lost track, now simply laid spread out beneath him on your knees as your face presses against the blankets. He'd hunted these pelts for you, they were one of a million gifts, and now they're stained with cum as he fucks it out of you and it dribbles onto the fur. All of your jewelry clinks against each other and glimmers, and you swear the noise reignites Vulkan every now and again as he stuffs your cunt full of him.

"You look so beautiful like this, the most valuable of all my treasures,"

You grip his hand like it's your only safety, an island of gentleness as he ruts into you like an animal.

"Let me make you my wife. I can make you the mother of my genesons, and I can give you your own to carry as well."

You've never said no to him, you wanted to be his wife, but you still yelled out a million and one enthusistic 'yes!' until he trailed off into sweet nothings that he panted into the air around you. You can hear the sticky, sloppy noises as a cock that is for all intents and purposes far too big for you stuffs it's way into you, cum leaking down your thighs and smearing on your skin. You can feel his heavy balls smack against your clit, only adding to the primal bodies of the room.

You cum around him again, thighs aching and shaking as even they threaten to give underneath you. Your arms long since had, and soon Vulkan has to use a hand to wrap around your waist and keep you held up, lest you fall to the mattress flat like a limp body. You clench around him with a loud, scratchy cry, almost as if trying to milk his cock for more than he's already given you.

Your jewelry remains still mostly untangled surprisingly, clinking against eachother on your skin as he fucks you. It still shines you imagine, though it's hard to see it. Your thighs and outer lips are slick with juices both yourself and his, mixed together after so long of him mercilessly hammering his hips against yours.

He's always loving, there's a gentleness to him always with you, but you can tell this pushed his limits with you and teeters on the edge of something he has more trouble controlling.

You'd never dream of asking him to stop, this is what you wanted by dressing this way; At least the feral nature. You never expected Vulkan to snap fully, pushing your face down to mount you and growling about filling your womb with the children he's wanted since dawn infinitum.

You aren't complaining, though you also don't exactly have the faculties to do so.

"Relax my love, you wanted this, and now I'm going to fill you until it takes."

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

I can only share my interest in Aegon to you, so I’ll just drop this here. (Dw, contrary to what I say next, this is not a request. Just desperation.)

Broski, I NEED reader wife who’s scared of heights and dragons but Aegon gets her to ride with him just cuz he feels like it. (My hand is probably 1/3 smaller than one of their teeth. I believe Anyone sane should be scared sh’tless while seeing a dragon. 💀)

I ONLY READ ONE FIC WHERE THEY FLY ON A DRAGON! WHY ARE THERE SO MANY AEMOND FICS OF THISS??? HELP ME FIND MORE CUZ I NEED TO HAVE A RIDE ON A DRAGONNNNN. Imagine the refreshing air and scenery. (I personally imagine the beautiful pink/orange clouds from Httyd when Hiccup and Astrid fly together for the first time)😭⚰️

.

.

Also, about the death threats, you handled it well. Really, when everyone finds out you like a hated character, it’s like they are trying to get you to sign your own death sentence. Anyway, keep doing you. You write exceptionally 🤭🫶 ily

PROMISE NOT TO DROP ME? ONLY A FOOL WOULD DROP YOU. ( HOTD x Reader )

pairing: Prince Aegon ii Targaryen x Lady-in-waiting! Reader prompt: Aegon kidnaps you to ride on dragonback, it does not go well. word count: 1, 000+ words

You had been very very firm when it came to dragon's. You were no Targaryen nor held a drop of Valyrian blood in your veins. Sure, you like to gawk at them in art. The dozen paintings, stained glass windows, and books that filled the Red Keep were enough. You would never dare to go near one in real life. Dragon’s were not natural. To ride one, to tame one, it was not natural. A lot of the things that the Targaryen’s did were not natural. 

So when you started as Helaena's Lady-in-waiting, you did everything you could to politely refuse to be near them. Need to go to the Dragonpits? The carriage was nice and comfy, no need to leave it. When Helaena offered to fly with her? Suddenly you grew ill with a cough. Helaena accepted, understanding your fears. She offered kind words and an open invitation should you ever change your mind on the matter.

Aegon was, as always, different. The word 'no'  just could not connect in that tiny little brain of his. He took it as a challenge. He would jest about kidnapping you and taking you flying. You laughed and told him you'd push him out of a window if he dared to do it. 

Of course, he had tried once with a look a little too serious on his face. After waddling away, clutching his groin from your hard kick, he learned that it would not be easy to get you on dragonback. You’d fight back. You would be a challenge, he liked that a lot.

Kicking and screaming at the top of your lungs, you did everything you could think of to get free of Aegon's hold. Clawing at his arms wrapped around your waist, he dragged you along to the Dragonpits, the dragon keeper's onlooking in confusion and mild horror. You could give less of a shit if they thought you mad. There was no way in the Seven Hells that you were going on a flight with Aegon. You'd rather kiss the King's rotten lips than to go flying.

"No! Put me down, you drunken oaf!" You shout, thrashing against him.

"No."

"I am going to kick you so hard you'd never be able to get it up again, Aegon! Put me down!" You bellow, yanking at his hair.

"Not a chance, we are going flying." Aegon brushes off your threats, "You will enjoy it. Tis' delightful."

Letting out a loud scream into his ear, he did not falter, running off of pure spite and stubbornness. It would have been admirable, if it was not for the fact he was dragging you along to go flying. Yanking hard on his hair, he yelps loudly, though his grip does not falter. Gods damn it, why did he have to be strong? Sensing that fighting would not help you, you tried another way.

"Please, please, Aegon." You beg, "I'll give up my desserts for a whole moon. Just let me go."

"Tempting." He chuckles, a smirk on his face.

"Please, Aegon. I do not wish to fly." You beg, on the verge of tears.

"I fly all the time. Once I even did it drunk, tis' nothing dangerous." He scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

Shaking your head frantically as his grip tightens, he drags you into the dark cave, the stench of dragon thick in the air. The few torchlights in the cave illuminated enough to see his dragon, Sunfyre, burrowing into his rocky nest. Feeling tears of fear bubbling up, you go deadly silent, losing your voice. This was your worst dream come true. Face to face with a dragon. Holding back the whimper in your throat, Aegon presses a kiss onto your temple, refusing to let you go.

“He won’t harm you. He’s used to your scent.” Aegon whispers into your ear, “I brought him one of your dresses to smell.”

“Let me go.” You whimper out, voice full of pure terror. 

“Come on, you’re already here. Let’s just go for a quick flight.” Aegon argues, shaking his head dismissively. 

“Aegon..”

Slowly letting go of your waist, you go to bolt for the cave exit, only to be swept back up into Aegon’s arms. He carried you like a toddler who had a habit of running away. Letting out a loud cry as he refused to put you back down, he wags his finger mockingly, a half amused look on his face. Hearing Sunfyre stir in his nest, you try more desperately to get away, the rumbling of the dragon echoing loudly in the cave. 

“No, no, no.” He scolds, “Bad Y/n. No running away.”

“Put me down! I want to go back to the Red Keep!” 

“No, if I have to attend Court, then you cannot escape this.” He suggests, “Consider this your duty.”

“Fuck duty. Put me down, Aegon!” You sob, bottom lip wobbling. 

“Ooh, so now we do not care about duty, hm?” He mocks, shaking his head with a smirk.

Pressing a gentle kiss onto your temple, he carried you closer and closer to Sunfyre, until the two of you were right in the dragon’s face. Feeling your grip tighten on him, he slowly smiles at the feeling, like see you so unlike yourself. This had to be the first time he had seen you act so improper and anxious. It was refreshing, amazing, and amusing all at the same time. 

Smiling bright as Sunfyre stirs away, the golden dragon huffs at the two of you, his two large green eyes staring back. Puffing his chest out in pride, he hoped the sight of his dragon would impress you and make you swoon. His dragon always got compliments. Looking down at your face, there was not an ounce of admiration or awe or anything positive, only terror. 

“He’s pretty is he not?” He gloats proudly, “You know, they say he is the prettiest dragon to have ever been hatched.”

“If I survive this, I am going to kill you.” You whisper out, face pale.

“Stop speaking as if you are going to die. Sunfyre would not dare to attack, not whilst I am here.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“I’ve seen your dragon, can we leave now. I want to go back to the Red Keep, Aegon.” You whimper, tears bubbling up in your eyes.

"No. Don't you dare." He argues, "Don't you dare do the whole crying trick on me. I am not foolish like Helaena and can be swayed."

Watching as you sniffle and whimper, his grip tightens on you, not wanting to give up just yet. Seeing the big puppy dog eyes you give him, he grits his teeth, tensing up. He falter's for a moment. He was always sucker for those big puppy dog eyes of yours. You knew how to make him crumble.

"No, no, no, don't give me that look." He tries to resist.

"Please, Aegon."

"No. Stop that." He shakes his head, "Stop that right now. I demand you stop that."

"I..I want to go home, Aegon. Please, take me home." You beg, sniffling.

Letting out an exasperated groan at you begging and pleading to go home, he begrudgingly agrees to it, knowing that it would be no fun if you cried the entire time. Scowling like a child who had its toy taken away, he loosens his grip on you, putting you back down onto your feet. One day he’d get you on dragonback. Sadly, just not today.

"Aegon, please, I want to go home." You whimper, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks.

“Fine, fine, stop crying.” He grumbles, “But next time, we are going to actually get on the dragon.”

---

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@nightvers

@zaldritzosrose

[ar-ghilas-vir-banal]

I can’t imagine what waking up in the Fade is like for both Lavellan and Solas. I feel like, based on the BlueSky response, that them getting to the Lighthouse somehow is a bit of a given.

Solas is badly hurt. Like. I don’t know how he’s standing before they cross over but you can bet he doesn’t last long like that. Lavellan drags that man there. Or. Maybe in a stroke of cosmic kindness, it’s exactly where they find themselves when they step through.

It takes hours to peel that man out of his armor and tend to all the cuts. There seem to be thousands. He’s too weak to stop her and he weeps when she kisses each one, not minding bloody lips. Lots of talking with and without words for them both in that quiet time of mending and reconnecting. But finally, Solas is clean, tended and in his bed, in his home.

Lavellan is finally there to watch over him. She can rest. He’s safe. And she’s with him. It’s a miracle. So she lies down where she can crook her head into his shoulder and not press down on him, and they both sleep.

And then the waking up.

Solas is sure it was all just a dream. A lovely one. Made of his deepest horrors and wishes. Finds himself in the Lighthouse and just “Ah. I became drunk and passed out. Again. *cough*.” But then he hears breathing near his ear, quiet and rhythmic. Someone sleeping.

It hurts but he turns his head and… no. This is still a dream. This is impossible. He’d know that scent on her hair anywhere. Who else would keep a protective hand on his shoulder as they slept? This can’t be real…

Then it’s Lavellan’s turn. She’s pulled from sleep by the sound of Solas on the verge of hyperventilating and she starts awake, terrified that he’s in pain or worse. “Vhenan? What is it? What hurts?”

Only to be devoured by the most tender of gazes. He doesn’t say a word or move a muscle. He’s too awed. Light comes through the window as if by his bidding and sets her aglow with all the heavenly radiance that befits her. And he can only stare.

“S-Solas?” So she leans down to check on him. Is he so weak that he can’t say? Worry and fear claw at her as she touches his chest, his neck, his face. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

She can’t know what this feels like to him. Her fingers seem to reach down past the flesh and bone, finding his spirit, mending the tears and rips suffered over the millennia at each careful press of a fingertip.

By the time her hands get to his face, Solas’ eyes are trying to roll back in his head of sheer delight. But then she gives a quiet hum of amusement and presses a kiss to his forehead.

The man is now good and boneless. And Lavellan can only smile, a bit pridefully, at how much he obviously enjoys just the barest touches. Her Wolf. Her Man. Her Heart. She’s wanted for so long to simply be free to love him as much as she wanted to, to protect him. And now she gets to.

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Hm?”

“You… asked me what was wrong, Vhenan. Absolutely nothing is wrong.”

“Then kiss me, as we have both wanted.” And after a smile that Solas can honestly say he never thought to wear again, he does.

[temiizpalace]

hiiii!! omg this is exciting ^^ can I request prompt 4 for Azul and Jamil?? Jamil normally offers Yuu their hoodies, then for some reason Azul started to let Yuu borrow the coat he wears from his Octavinelle Uniform. But in the end, Yuu ends up with Jamil, he told Yuu that now they're in a relationship, they're probably going to own almost all his hoodies now doenksnwksnwksjekd head empty, just this request.

Have a great day!!!

☆┊TAKE MY JACKET, I INSIST. (🐍 vs. 🐙)

SUMMARY: COLD CHILLS RAN DOWN YOUR SPINE AS YOUR TEMPERATURE BEGINS TO DROP. HE OFFERS HIS JACKET LIKE A GENTLEMEN, BUT A CERTAIN SOMEONE HAD THE SAME IDEA.

CHARACTERS: jamil viper vs. azul ashengrotto

EVENT MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: determined end couple, jealousy, small azul angst near end?

NOTES: i knew id see this duo at least once!! tysm for your request!

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

˚∘☆∘˚

jamil felt sick.

not literally, thankfully, but horrible enough to feel like he had just gotten a disease. is this happening? seriously? you, in an octavinelle coat. more specifically, azul’s coat. disgusting. he can’t believe his very eyes. why?! and just as he was about to ask if you needed to wear his sweater.

as a very very platonic exchange between two very good friends, you have been wearing jamil’s sweaters during the colder seasons. not like he cares or anything. (he does, he’s literally the one to offer it) however, seeing you in someone else’s clothes? and azul’s nonetheless? do you hate him??? as much as he wanted to run over to you, toss the coat off the window and immediately give you his own sweater to wear instead, jamil would rather die than make such a scene.

he can think of a few.. others.. that would do something so rash, but not him. no, no. he’s seen countless things he never liked to see before! surely this is the same, right?

“jamil! good morning!” you smile, rushing over to him with an enthusiastic wave. “[MC], morning.” he politely greets you in return, eyeing the coat for a second before looking at your eyes. “like my coat? pretty nice, don’tcha think? azul’s letting me borrow it.” you model the coat for him, allowing him to look at every single little detail.

“it’s..” absolutely atrocious. jamil hesitates, biting back any and all comments or remarks he could come up with on the top of his head. he doesn’t wish to insult you! never. the coat itself on the other hand, well.. “..something.” he narrows his eyes, knuckles forming in his hands til they turned pale. “thank you for your sincere input.” you reply sarcastically, already being able to sift through his lie.

“why’re you wearing it?” he asks, crossing his arms and raising a brow. answers. he wants answers. there’s no reason you should be going to azul for anything, so how come? “funny story actually! you see—” “jamil? [MC]?” you both turn your heads to see the refined businessman already on his way towards your direction, jamil unable to hide his obvious annoyance.

“oh, azul! morning.” you wave, unaware to your poor friends furrowed brow. “why, good morning prefect! i see you’re satisfied with the coat?” azul smiles, picking off the lint that was left on your collar. he looks to jamil, taking note of his peeved expression.

“hello, jamil. hanging out with the prefect again, i take it? you know, how about borrowing an octavinelle coat to match with our dear [MC] here? im positive it will look just as good on you as it does on them! our coats are accustomed to keep their subjects nice and warm for the winter seasons.” azul chimes, pulling out a neatly kept contract from his pockets.

“not on your life.” jamil states bluntly, crossing his arms with a pout. “they really do keep you warm though!” you add, much to azul’s delight. “see? i have no ill intentions in the slightest.” the octomer grins, his smile obviously not reaching his eyes. “prefect, i will see you at lunch. we can meet by our usual spot.” jamil sighs, looking at you and now just ignoring his classmate. “oh, okay! see you later then, jamil.”

classes droned on like they usually did. jamil wrote his notes with a focused expression, the thoughts in his head being a complete contrast. small doodles were drawn on the corners of the page, the pencil lead growing duller and duller with each passing minute. stupid octopus bastard.. he sighs, turning to azul wearing a more-than-pleased smile. oh how he wanted to rip that smug grin on his face off and ship him away to a place far, far away from here.

passing period was also no better. azul beat him to the punch, walking you to class like a gentlemen. jamil didn’t fail to notice the boys ears turning red as you laughed, his body language shifting from refined to embarrassed. he fought the urge to bite his nails in anger, leaving that old habit behind him many years ago. a spine chilling aura startles students around him as he walked, his face screaming neutral but his mood nothing but foul.

it’s that damn coat. that damn coat is what’s slowly drifting you away from him, and he cannot allow that. he’ll settle this. once and for all.

jamil awaited your arrival patiently by the tree. his foot tapping aggressively on the concrete as your presence seemed to delay. “sorry im late!” you shout, rushing over with a huff. no. no. no. no. no. no. this was a nightmare. not only were you wearing the coat, but the fedora, scarf, and just the entire octavinelle dorm uniform. “wh-what are you wearing..?” jamil stammers, observing your outfit with pure horror in his eyes.

“agh, azul made me wear it.” you sigh, obviously growing a little too warm in these clothes. it didn’t even snow yet! “this is too much..” he mumbles, removing your hat. slowly, he pulled off each overbearing accessory. he unwrapped the scarf, carefully removed your gloves, and eventually, the coat. “ah, i can take the coat—”

jamil removes his blazer, followed by his sweater. you’d be a liar if you told yourself you weren’t a little bit. seeing jamil in the normal nrc uniform was truly a privilege to say the least. he pulls the sweater over your head and smiles contently. “there. much better.” you hesitate for a moment, feeling your cheeks warm up at his gesture. typically you would put the sweater on yourself, but having someone do it for you? it was different somehow.

“if you’re ever feeling cold, just ask me.” he mumbles, putting his blazer back on while folding the octavinelle clothes neatly. “wow.. sounds like such a romantic gesture.” you joke, nudging his elbow. “could be.” he replies, his tone not holding any of the joking yours previously had. “what..?”

seize every opportunity. “i.. i wouldnt mind if it was.” he mutters, unable to meet your eyes. “is this a confession?” you ask, stepping closer to jamil. he swallows harshly, feeling like his heart was about to jump out of his chest. “i suppose.” suddenly he misses his hoodie. the blush on his cheeks couldn’t help but form, sweat dripping from his brow at the fear of rejection.

“jamil..” you grab his hand, placing it over your heart with a small smile. “if this is a confession, then i like you too.” you wrap him into an embrace, feeling his heart against your own. it beat rapidly, his palms sweaty before he hesitantly reciprocated your hug.

silence fell between you two for a brief moment, but one of comfort rather than awkwardness. “so.. why were you wearing an octavinelle uniform?” jamil asks, feeling the need to soothe the nagging thought in his head. “oh yeah.. that. azul asked me to wear it to promote the lounge. in return, he said id get a few food vouchers and i get to keep the coat.” you shrug, pulling out the small tickets from the octavinelle coat.

“i see..” jamil nods, still not understanding the rest of the accessories. “well, my hoodies are now your hoodies. look no further than yours truly for warmth in the winter.” he smiles, fixing the collar of the sweater. you laugh at his comment, pushing his bangs out of his face.

azul watched your exchange from afar, feeling his smile falter slightly. “oya? azul, is something the matter?” jade asked calmly, staring at his frowning companion. “..it’s nothing. what were you saying about that seasonal dish?” azul smiles, walking and talking with his vice housewarden for the future of mostro lounge.

in reality, his heart ached. even after all his efforts, he came in last. he couldn’t win your love in time. azul can’t help but want to climb into his octopot and weep. he sounds childish, but how else would you deal with a broken heart? maybe someday, you’ll find your love for him. someday, you’ll be part of his world. someday, he won’t feel so poor and unfortunate. but not today.

A/N: im sorry this was a little late something came up 😭

date published: 8/28/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!