#his peaceful expression just warms my heart

[billionairebratenergy]

Forever Sounds Good

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes had been called a lot of things in his lifetime—soldier, assassin, hero—but when you called him your husband, everything else ceased to exist.

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The compound was quieter than usual, save for the occasional hum of voices from the common area. You and Bucky had settled onto the couch, your legs draped over his lap as you scrolled through your phone, the warm glow of the TV casting soft shadows across the room. His vibranium fingers traced absentminded patterns along your calf, a subconscious habit whenever he was near you.

It was peaceful. Domestic, even.

And then Sam walked in.

"Hey, lovebirds. You two gonna join the rest of us for movie night, or are you too busy being disgustingly in love over here?"

You smirked, not looking up. "Bucky, what do you think?"

Bucky, who had been perfectly content in his own little world, blinked up at Sam like he hadn't heard a single word you just said.

You tilted your head, waiting for him to answer. When he didn’t, you sighed dramatically and turned to Sam. "Guess my husband and I will have to think about it."

Bucky stiffened beneath you.

The silence stretched, and you glanced back at him, only to find him staring at you. Wide-eyed. Lips parted slightly.

He wasn’t breathing.

"Buck?" you prompted.

Still nothing.

Sam, who had been in the middle of making some smart-ass remark, paused and squinted at Bucky. "You good, man?"

Bucky swallowed thickly, jaw tightening, but the color in his face betrayed him. His ears were turning pink.

And then—he grinned.

Not his usual smirk. Not the teasing, cocky one he gave Sam when they were bickering. Not the polite one he sometimes gave strangers out of courtesy. No—this was something different. Something real.

It was soft. Shy, almost.

Like you’d just given him something precious and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

"Yeah," he said finally, voice rough, but there was a warmth in his eyes that made your stomach flip. "Yeah, I’m good."

Sam narrowed his eyes, looking between the two of you like he was missing something. But when Bucky made no move to elaborate, he just scoffed. "Weirdo."

As soon as Sam was gone, you turned back to Bucky.

"What was that?" you asked, amused.

Bucky shifted beneath you, avoiding your gaze. "What was what?"

"Oh, I don't know. You looking like I just told you I was carrying your child or something."

He huffed out a breath, shaking his head, but that small, secret smile never left his face.

"Just wasn’t expecting it, is all," he murmured, almost to himself.

"Expecting what?"

His thumb brushed over your knee absentmindedly. "You calling me that."

Husband.

You bit your lip. "Did you not like it?"

His head snapped up. "No—God, no. I—I mean, it just caught me off guard."

You watched him for a moment, the way he fidgeted slightly, the way his grip on your leg tightened just a fraction.

"You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?" you teased.

"Absolutely."

The way he admitted it so easily made your heart swell.

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. "Should I say it more often?"

His breath hitched.

He closed his eyes for a brief second, then exhaled, a little shaky. "You tryna kill me, doll?"

You grinned. "Not at all, husband."

His ears were definitely red now.

"Jesus," he muttered under his breath, but there was a kind of wonder in his expression that made you soften.

"Bucky Barnes," you whispered, brushing your nose against his. "Are you telling me you like the idea?"

His fingers curled around your wrist, holding you there.

"Wouldn’t mind it," he admitted.

It was quiet for a beat. Then:

"Wait, are you proposing right now?"

He laughed, the sound vibrating between you, and you couldn’t help but join in.

But later that night, as you lay tangled together beneath the covers, his fingers tracing over your ring finger absentmindedly, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—he was thinking about it just as much as you were.

⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒

[gloomskulls]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ IMPERIUM & CHAINS [caracalla & geta x reader]

pairing(s): gladiatorii!caracalla x gladiatorii!geta x pregnant!empress!reader

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ On her return in her homeland, with her children and another one growing in her womb, the Empress expects a moment of peace, a time to remember who she was before Rome. But there were never two husbands like Empress Caracalla and Geta anywhere else in the world. As her old memory resurfaces and the return into her old kingdom begins, she starts asking herself…is this freedom? Or is she just a bird in a golden cage?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ polygamy, extreme possessiveness, captivity, psychological manipulation, implied noncon/dubcon, violence, threats, power imbalance, misogyny, forced pregnancy, gaslighting, emotional abuse, toxic relationship, lemme know if I missed any!

i just watched gladiator ii, and all of the sudden my eddie munson era is back, (so is my obsession with fred hechinger ever since he appeared in fear street 1994)

The imperial carriage rumbled over the bad dirt path, ostentatiously gilded to shine in the noonday sun. Rows of Roman soldiers flanking the route guarded by deep crimson banners. But the Empress felt anything but powerful inside her carriage

Inside the imperial carriage, the air had become still. The rich smell of expensive perfumes, warm wine, and her husbands unmistakable musk conspired to seal her in.

Across from her lay the twin Emperors of Rome, sprawled upon the cushioned seats like lazy gods.

Caracalla, in crimson toga with gold embroidery, rested his feet upon the floor. Sullen, crazed eyes would sometimes flick her way as if watching and expecting something from her—thankfulness or maybe subjection.

In contrast, Geta reclined with easiness, tunic with a looser drape. There was a slow swishing motion to his goblet of wine, and he gazed at the bloody liquid swirling around with keen interest.

The Empress, sitting stiffly in between the two, rested one hand protectively on her bulging belly while the other gripped the silk folds of her dress. Warmth from her children's laughter flowed back into her mind; they were riding ahead of her with heavy guard, separated. One would have thought her comforted by their warmth, but instead, her heart sank deep with the burden of her predicament.

She was going home. And yet, she was never free.

The castle gates swung open, revealing the King waited at the top of the stone steps. Once feared in battle, now an old lion, awaiting the cub's return, flanked by two wolves.

The imperial carriage rolled to a slow, deliberate halt.

The moment she stepped out, her father’s face softened. She barely drew breath before she clambered up the steps, disregarding the indifferent stares of the Roman guards, taking her father’s hands into her own and squeezing him with might.

“Father.”

“My child,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He cupped her face, his eyes flicked down to her belly, then past her to the gilded carriage. The warmth in his expression chilled instantly.

The twins had arrived.

Geta was first out, having in his own right created a suffocating silence in the courtyard, dark eyes sizing everything and everyone present.

Caracalla followed slowly, stretching his limbs as if awakening from a sweet dream, releasing a slight sigh and then glancing toward the King with a grin.

"My lords," began the King, voice firm, with fingers twitching ever so slightly against her hands. "Welcome to my home. Again"

"We are honored," Caracalla purred, ever smooth. He cast a cursory glance around. "Although, I must say, it seems awfully… smaller than I remember."

Geta remained quiet. He stared at the King, the muscles of his jaw taut, as if this entire rendezvous was beneath him. Then he walked past them without a nod and up the steps and into the castle, like a man who owned it.

The grand hall burst into flames under the torches, amid feasting sounds. The servants dashed between the tables pouring goblets of wine and laying platters of food in front of their guests. But the food was warm; everything else was cold with tension.

The Empress sat at the long banquet table between Caracalla and Geta; her children were further down, having an animated conversation with their grandfather. If not for their innocent laughter, she would have completely fallen apart.

"You must let them see the mountains tomorrow," the King said. "The ones beyond the valley, they must know where their mother used to play as a child."

"No," Caracalla responded instantly.

Silence.

The King frowned. "I can assure you they will be quite safe."

"It is not your assurances I am concerned with," said Caracalla. He did not even bother looking up from his plate.

"Forgive my brother," Geta said, putting on a charming smile. "He forgets his manners." He sipped leisurely at this wine. "We simply have too many enemies. Our children—her children—are too precious to us to be taken on an aimless stroll through the wilderness."

The King lowered his goblet slowly. "Precious? They are not commodities."

"Oh, but they are," Caracalla finally raised his head, his gaze fixing on the King. "They are the blood of Rome. And Rome does not share."

The Empress clenched her hands beneath the table. She had known this conversation would eventually happen, but to hear it now, to see their expressions so filled with ownership over not just her but her very own children, made her stomach turn.

Her father exhaled through his nose, wrestling to maintain his composure. But she could see it; the fingers that were twitching against the wood, the way his shoulders stiffened.

"You have stolen my daughter," he said lowly.

A silence that throttled.

Caracalla reclined back in his chair without removing his fingers from the dagger. "No, old man. You gave her to us as a way to soothe your losing war with Persia. We own her."

Geta chuckled. "You should be proud. Your little girl is the Empress of Rome."

Her father turned to her then, his eyes searching. Pleading. "Are you happy?"

She opened her mouth. No sound came out.

Caracalla leaned in close, breath warm against her ear. "Be careful," he whispered just low enough for her to hear. "We wouldn't want father getting any ideas, would we?"

She swallowed hard. "I am… honored to serve Rome."

A lie. And everyone at the table knew it.

High above the castle gardens, the moon cast streaming silver light on the stone pavements and bloomed flowers. The air smelled of damp earth and roses, a scent she had not smelled in a long time. It was completely different from the Rome, where the air was forever heavy with sweat and the metallic pungent tang from bloodshed in the Colosseum.

She walked along the trimmed hedges slowly, her fingers trailing along them. Something unnamable throbbed in her heart; perhaps longing or grief. The familiar feeling of this place, the shelter it once represented, was a cruel illusion now.

She was no longer just a princess of this land.

An Empress of Rome.

And Rome never loosed its hold.

A rustle behind her made her pause, but she did not turn.

"I thought I could find you here."

Deep voice, familiar. Father.

She exhaled, allowing her shoulders to relax slightly. "I needed air."

Footfalls approached, slow but heavy. Then a rough-hewn warm palm settled on her shoulder, and she allowed her moment of sojourn.

Father sighed, grip gentle but firm. "You look tired."

She released a soft, humorless chuckle. "I am always tired."

His hand fell away, and when she turned around, he was looking at her. Like really observing her. They had last met when she was younger, freer. Not a woman weighed down by the crown of Rome and the possessive grip of the twin Emperors.

His gaze fell to her belly. "Another child."

She nodded. "Another."

He inhaled sharply, shaking his head. "How many more, my daughter?"

She didn't reply.

Rather, she had her head turned to face the sky, feeling the cool air kiss the skin.

"You could stay," her father said after a long silence.

Lurching of the heart.

Her throat contracted and she forced herself to say the words. "You know that is not possible."

"Is it?" His voice was laced with frustration. "I am still a king. This is still your home. I could—"

"You could do nothing," she interrupted, shaking her head. "You think you could hide me? That they would simply let me go?"

He didn't speak, but the tension of his jaw told her all.

He knew. He knew that Caracalla and Geta would burn this kingdom to the ground before they let her slip through their fingers.

But still, he wouldn't let that go "You do not have to live like that."

She laughed bitterly but softly. "And how do I live, Father?"

"Like a woman in a gilded cage," he said.

She went still.

His voice softened. "You flinch when they touch you. You never look them in the eye for too long. And when you speak, you measure every word, as if your very breath belongs to them."

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Because it does."

Father's eyes darkened with wrath, but it was not against her. One step was taken closer to and around him, bearing down with great presence. "I could protect you. I could protect your children. You wouldn't have to go back."

Her lips trembled but quickly sealed them into a firm line.

The thought was dangerous.

So dangerous.

But then, for the first time in years, sparkled hope within her. The idea about staying was intoxicating, living beyond those cold, suffocating walls of Rome with her children, without the constant presence of them.

For the briefest of moments, she allowed herself to think it could happen.

The empress didn't know what she was tensed about. She was just a servant girl, staring with wide eyes and nerves.

"The emperors request you," she said. "Immediately."

Now she was in their quarters, she could feel sweat forming in her palms as the tension in the room was rather tense. She could already sense in her gut that something was wrong.

Geta stood at the window, faced out into the darkness of the courtyard. He did not turn round when she entered, but the tension of his shoulders told her all.

Caracalla sat propped in a cushioned chair with one leg flung over the other, playing languidly with his goblet full of wine. Unlike his brother, he was looking at her directly, a faint smirk curling at the edges of his lips.

"It took you a while to get here," Geta murmured. "How rude of you."

Saying nothing, she just stood shivering at the door post.

"Tomorrow at dawn, we leave" is all Caracalla said.

Her breath caught.

"Why the sudden change?" she inquired, doctoring her voice to a level, impassive delivery.

Geta wheeled around at that instant, vision tearing through her like a knife. "There is nothing else for us here."

Caracalla sighed, arms crossed, as he tossed his empty goblet elsewhere. "it's too bad. I was just starting to get into the entertainment." He smiled at her, making little effort to hide the glint in his deep-set eyes. "Your father is such a gracious host. But I am left wondering… does he think he can keep you?"

Silence.

The Empress gulped.

Caracalla stepped closer, the air thickened by his presence. "I wonder," he said softly, "is it possible he thinks you want to stay?"

Another of his tests.

She covered her expression, lowered her eyes. "I am the Empress of Rome."

"Yes," Caracalla said darkly, "you are."

It was a quiet chuckle from Geta. "See, brother? No need to worry. Our little Empress knows where she belongs."

Caracalla looked anything but convinced.

His fingers just brushed her wrist, a light touch, but a warning, nonetheless.

"You should sleep," he murmured.

She nodded, turning to go, but before she could step away Caracalla caught her chin between his fingers, jerking her face back up towards him.

"You wouldn't mistake forgetting, would you?" he whispered.

Her heart pounded in her throat.

"No," she whispered.

He held her for just a moment more and then let her go.

Geta saw it all with lazy boredom. As if he was looking at a lecture.

"Good girl,"

And that was her dismissal.

But as she walked, her heart thundered away in her chest. Now they suspected her. Which meant that if she was to escape, it would have to be soon.

Because come morning, she would be on the road back to Rome.

And once she was back within those golden walls, under their ever-watching gaze, so suffocating and smothering, she's surprised she could even breath.

There would be no way out.

@gloomskulls 2024. DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE ANY OF MY WORKS HERE OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES. Photos don't belong to m

[mejaemin]

˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　. ✦　˚　　. ★⋆. 　.   ˚　　* . ✦　. ˚ . ✦ ˚ 　.　˚ .

untitled - yoon jeonghan

wc: 0.7k summary: jeonghan always knows what you need, and won’t ever hesitate to give it to you warnings: being v sad, being comforted + taken care of an: crazy how the only time i write for my main ult is when i myself need comforting…

˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　. ✦　˚　　. ★⋆. 　.   ˚　　* . ✦　. ˚ . ✦ ˚ 　.　˚ .

you walk in the front door, and jeonghan’s eyes light up from where he’s sitting in the living room. it warms your heart, truly, seeing the way he goes from all sunken into the cushions right into perfect posture, full of joy. you give him a half assed smile, too lazy and unmotivated to give him anything better. you can’t see it when you reach down to remove your shoes, but his expression softens and he’s on his way over to you to take your bag and help you.

when you stand back up, he’s got a hand on your shoulder, and all he needs to do is give you a look, silently asking do you want to talk? and it’s so sweet, seeing how much he cares to avoid even prompting a conversation when you’re not ready, you shake your head softly, immediately letting your head fall into his shoulder once the tears come.

he pulls you into him, a hand rubbing your back while the other runs over your head. “you’re okay,” he whispers into your hair, voice deep and comforting against your body. “i’m here.”

your patience has been tested many times today, people yelling at you and overall disturbing your peace. you’re good at keeping your cool, letting yourself fall numb to these daily occurrences, and essentially going on autopilot for the entire work day. you were still in that mindset when you got here, but seeing jeonghan, so sweet, treating you with such fragile care, it brings you right back to earth and all that frustration falls down to nothing but tears, your vulnerability coming through. there isn’t even anger anymore, just a feeling of being tired.

you pull your head away, wiping at the wet spot on his shoulder. he chuckles, holding your face in his hands to wipe at your tears with his thumbs.

“come,” he says, placing a hand on your shoulder to lead you into your bedroom. your feet drag, hurting and tired, yet he stays patient, matching your pace until he can finally push the door open and sit you down on the bed.

he sits next to you, letting out a little ‘oof’ as he does so. with calm, gentle hands he helps remove your clothes, gently lifting them over your head. it might be simple, but for every movement you make to help him in the process earns you a kiss on the cheek. words of praise fall from his lips all the way until your done, left in your underwear. wordlessly, you turn your back to him, and his cold fingers leave goosebumps on your arms as he unclips your bra. his eyes stay up as he grabs your discarded clothing, putting it away before grabbing a shirt for you. it’s one of his, on the baggier side.

he slips it on for you and it’s baggy enough to cover some of your legs and feel comfortable. with a gentle nudge he leads you to lay down, pulling the blanket over you before turning to shut the light off. when he comes back to bed, he gets on his side, covering himself with the blanket. he brings you close, draping an arm over your stomach, and eventually his breathing evens. you try to fall asleep too, but there’s too many thoughts plaguing your mind to let you do so.

“hannie..?” you speak up, voice tiny and hoarse due to being silent for so long.

after a beat of silence, you hear a ‘hmmm?’ come from beside you.

“can you..” feeling too exhausted to speak, you just tug on his arm, dragging him a little closer until his body is partially on top of you.

eventually he gets the message, picking the blanket up to scoot over, until he’s finally on top of you, he gently lowers his weight down, nuzzling his head into your shoulder. it’s a common occurrence to have him lay on you, the weight extremely soothing and healing to your mind. he’s more than happy to do it for you at any time, i mean, he’s not exactly one to complain about being held and cuddled every once in a while. finally, you relax, the pressure on your torso allowing your body to finally release its tension and sink into the mattress. jeonghan presses a few soft kisses into the crook of your neck before they finally still, resting against your skin as he sleeps. you’re right there with him, your arms tight around his body as your mind finally calms and you succumb to your own fatigue.

˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　. ✦　˚　　. ★⋆. 　.   ˚　　* . ✦　. ˚ . ✦ ˚ 　.　˚ .

perm taglist: @chenlezip @coquettejunnie

[starsturni]

*ᯓ★ BF! MATT X PREGNANT! READER

analysis: after trying for a baby for months, the special moment finally comes.

warnings: cursing. fluff. small mentions of sex.

! NOT PROOFREAD !

wc: 1.3k!

it was in the early hours of the morning when i woke up. the soft rustles of sheets fully selling away my drowsiness as matt shifts in his sleep, looking peaceful as a restless night owl . i shift under my white heavy comforter, it smelling woodsy and warm. it screams matt.

in the morning light as the vibrant orange sun peeks in through the curtains, i turn away my head as it's bright rays dance upon my eyelids.

matt's hand finds it's way under my beige sweater, using his fingers to cascade across my waist, feeling all of my dips and curves. a smile finds its way onto my lips, a small noise of approval falls from them as his hands settle on my lower thigh.

"good morning." he grumbles tiredly, his face buried into the crook of my shoulder, breath tickling my neck. a smile coats my tone, full of happiness that you could only experience when you realize how it feels to wake up with someone you want to spend the rest of your life with.

"good morning to you. how long you up for?" i say, gazing off into his clear, cloudy blue eyes. his hands trail up to my shoulders, his fingers grazing every inch of my skin that he could find uncovered.

"not too long.. was thinkin' about last night." a small light pink blush coats my cheeks, the thought of the relentless night before had my heart pounding. the night previous was - eventful, you could say. the sound of the bed groaning repeatedly as matt bucked his hips into mine, desperate and needy for a sort of relief to get the baby we've dreamed of having ever since we started thinking seriously about what we wanted in our relationship.

"yeah, and my legs still ache." a playful smile becomes visible on my lips, as matt's expression is more of a proud one. "y'know, the more we try.." matt trails off as his lips start peppering light kisses along my collarbone and neck. "the more likely.." he states, in-between kisses. "you'll wake up with my baby inside you."

my face reddens, tucking my face into the pillow as an attempt to escape his dirty thoughts. "matt.." i can feel the smirk on his lips as they trail up to the tip of my earlobe, gently nibbling to get a reaction out of me. "what?" he lightly chuckles, acting like he doesn't know what he's doing to me.

i shift in bed, turning around so i can completely face matt. "i'm gonna go to the bathroom and take a test." he pouts slightly, wanting to sleep in. "y'know you can take the test later, right?"

i playfully groan at his whining, a small grin covering my once neutral expression. "i could do it in a month, but i'd like to know now." i leave matt with a small kiss to his cheek, a small amount of stubble still left over from his last shaving session.

he nods, a smile appearing as he watches me stand up and walk out of our shared room, watching the way my nightgown slightly rides up, exposing a little more than just my thighs in admiration. "okay, i'm gonna get up and make breakfast." he calls out, letting out a groan as he stretches.

i make my way down the hallway, crossing my arms under my chest as the cold air from the air conditioner hits me. i walk across the living room to get the packages off of the counter, but not without greeting trevor and pouring a generous amount (maybe even a little too much,) of food in his bowl.

i grab the plastic bag, my feet padding against the chilly hardwood floor as my heart skips beats, in the anticipation of what the test will say. i gently knock my fist against the bathroom door, and when silence returns, i open the door and step in.

i take a reassuring deep breath, trying to calm my nerves from freaking me out. i reach into the plastic bag, grabbing the box and reading the package’s cover.

it reads ‘pregnancy tests’ in big, bold and pink letters. the nerves start to really crash down on my mind as i think about all of the possibilities that come with the aftermath of the test, the thought of those two lines appearing have me shaking.

my anxious feelings start to slowly dissipate as i hear matt emerging from our bedroom, heading to the kitchen to make us food. i hear the sound of his footsteps come to a stop as he lands in-front of the bathroom door, a shadow casting from under the door.

“hey hun, if you need something just call out for me, okay?” he speaks through the door, granting me my privacy. i nod, knowing that he can’t see me. “yeah, i-i will babe.” matt can sense my nervous energy that radiates throughout my tone, and outside the door.

“y/n it’s okay hun. i know it’s a little scary, but we both wanted this, right? we will get through this together. you have me right at your side, alright?”

his caring tone soothes me and has me thinking not so much about the bad things that could come with having a child, but the good things. the memories we could create and cherish as a family. that’s what we wanted.

"y-you're right, yeah, i-i got this." matt lets out a quiet sigh of relief. "yes you do sweetheart. i know you're brave. do you want me to come in with you?" matt asks me in a sweet tone, in order to calm me. "no, i-i got this." i say back, the nervousness dissolving from my brain. i turn my back to the door once i hear matt's footsteps reside to the kitchen. i open the box, my hands shaking lightly as i pick up a test.

7 minutes later...

as the tests lines start to slowly fade in after the recommended time, i take deep breaths, the prospect of having a family fully sets in, and is eating away at my uneasy mindset.

the timer on my phone goes off, the beeping a ringing sensation in my ears.

beep! beep! beep!

i pick up my phone off of the marble counter, shutting of the alarm. i close my eyes, tears already welling up, as my fear starts to come back. i flip over the test.

two, dark red lines show back at me.

positive.

i'm pregnant.

i let out a scream of overall shock and happiness, hearing a cooking utensil drop onto the floor in the kitchen, footsteps rushing to the bathroom. matt's booming voice follows. "what?! what's wrong! are you okay?" the door swings open with no hesitation, his eyes scanning the entire room, making sure no active threat is happening.

"i-i'm pregnant!!" i squeal, tears flooding my eyes, pouring down my cheeks. matt's eyes widen, a smile of his own growing impossibly fast on his face. "what! y-you are?" he looks down at the counter, his eyes finding the positive test lying in the sink.

"oh my god, shit, you- what, you're pregnant!!" he crouches down, picking me up by my hips, excitedly spinning me around, almost nearly knocking my head against our ceiling. "we're pregnant, we're pregnant, we're pregnant!" he cheers to himself.

he sets me back onto the floor as his shock dies down, still excited as ever. the thought of him being able to say to all of his family members, friends, whoever, that he is a proud dad.

i tightly hug matt, my arms wrapping around his neck, inhaling his scent as happy tears stream down my face, the overwhelming moment of pure happiness was a feeling that was never foreign around matt. his arms wrap tightly around my waist, but only slightly loosen at the thought of now there's a mini matt inside of me.

as the moment really seeps in, it's broken as my nose picks up the scent of burning, which trails from our kitchen. my face scrunches up at the foul smell. "is something in the oven?"

matt's eyes widen with realization and remembrance as he scrambles out of the bathroom, sprinting to the kitchen. "the cinnamon rolls!"

don't mind my break! but i've literally thought about this all week..LMAO

currently tagging! :

@arotzsturns @suyqa @aria3sposts @user101624 @craftycrafter26 @oakley298 @secretbowty @gwennybenny @drlsmiths @strnxzara2 @lillianlovesmatt @sofsturnz689 @wonyyoung @magicalfloweranchor @kyliebabe @avamerrill @h3arts4harry @songstonone @st7n1olo @ivysturnss @literallyjustrue @kitty-kats-54 @hannahsturns @slytherin-princess-x @emosexyvirgin @leeeeree @christmastreecake @graciebrams @aokay1 @pookiewookie0513 @nateismybf @goingtojohnkramershouseee @stvrnmc @chrissturniolodailysluts @gn-4315 @strangelysamantha @sweetrunawaycreation @etherealval @chris-slut @ariiijestertheklown @mattsturnioloarchive @stvrnzwrld @courta13 @sophand4n4 @chrissweetheart @annsx03 @heartsonlyforchris @emely9274

[earthlybeam]

Wait, oh my god. If you don’t mind, could you possibly write the oversized tunic prompt for Haldir, Legolas, and/or Thranduil?

Or possibly, their SO in their tunic?

Thranduil, Legolas, Haldir version below.

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

The flickering light of the hearth bathed the guest chamber in a warm, golden glow, the shadows of the flames stretching across the polished stone walls and draping the room in quiet intimacy. It was peaceful—until the door opened, revealing the imposing figure of Thranduil. He moved with effortless elegance, his long robes trailing in his wake as his sharp gaze swept over the chamber. For a fleeting moment, his expression was serene, his features carved from ice and marble, betraying nothing. But then his eyes fell on you.

You stood in the doorway, caught in the firelight, the oversized tunic billowing slightly as you shifted under his gaze. The garment—his tunic—hung loosely on you, its fine fabric pooling in some places and clinging in others, betraying the fact that it had not been tailored for you. The neckline dipped low, and the material had slipped off one shoulder, baring the curve of your collarbone and a hint of your skin. The hem barely reached mid-thigh, your every move revealing just how precariously it sat. Though the look was accidental, it carried with it an unintended allure.

Thranduil stopped mid-step, his ice-blue eyes narrowing ever so slightly as they trailed over you, taking in every detail of your appearance. His expression was unreadable at first, the practiced neutrality of a king who had seen and weathered all things. But then his lips curved into the faintest of smirks, a spark of amusement glinting in his gaze. “Is this…” he began, his voice low and smooth, laced with an almost imperceptible edge, “intentional?”

You froze, your heart stuttering in your chest under the weight of his scrutiny. “Intentional?” you echoed, heat rising to your cheeks. You felt your embarrassment bubbling over, but you did your best to keep your tone even. “You make it sound like I’ve planned this.” You gestured vaguely to the tunic, the sleeves so long that the cuffs nearly swallowed your hands. “I didn’t exactly have many options. My clothes are being washed, and this was the only thing I could find that didn’t reek of travel.”

Thranduil took a measured step forward, the soft sound of his boots against the stone floor echoing faintly. There was something predatory in his movements, though not unkind—a quiet, deliberate grace that left no room for misunderstanding who stood before you. His gaze softened slightly, though his intensity did not waver. “And you thought it wise to wear this?” he asked, his voice quieter now, as though the question were for himself as much as it was for you. “My tunic?”

You bristled, a mix of defiance and self-consciousness sparking in your chest. Crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to shield yourself, you tilted your chin up. “It’s not like I expected you to walk in unannounced,” you countered, though your voice wavered slightly under his piercing gaze. “Besides, it’s not that revealing.”

At that, one of his thick brows arched elegantly, the faintest quirk of his lips betraying his disbelief. “Not that revealing?” he repeated, a note of dry humor slipping into his tone. His eyes flicked down briefly, lingering on the exposed curve of your shoulder where the fabric had slipped, then lower, taking in the hem that rested just a little too high for propriety. “It barely clings to you,” he said plainly, though there was something warmer—something almost dangerous—beneath the cool cadence of his voice. “It is… distracting.”

“Distracting?” You scoffed lightly, though your pulse quickened under his steady gaze. You had meant it to sound dismissive, but the nervous edge to your tone gave you away. “You sound offended. Or…” You allowed a playful edge to creep into your voice, though you knew you were treading on thin ice. “Or maybe you’re just jealous that I pull it off better than you.”

For a moment, silence hung heavy between you, your words echoing in the chamber. Then, to your surprise, a deep, rich chuckle escaped him, the sound resonating low in his chest. His smirk deepened, his gaze glinting with what could only be described as admiration. “Brazen,” he murmured, almost to himself, though the amusement in his tone was evident. “Only you would dare to jest with me in this way.”

You took a tentative step forward, emboldened by the flicker of humor in his expression. “Would you rather I cower?” you asked, your voice soft but steady now. “Or apologize for borrowing something clearly too fine for someone like me?” The teasing edge in your tone was deliberate, but underneath it lay something more vulnerable—something unspoken, though not unnoticed.

Thranduil tilted his head, his gaze never wavering as you drew closer. When he spoke, his voice was lower, quieter, as if the moment demanded it. “I would rather you be more aware of what you provoke,” he said, his words measured but weighted with meaning. “For once tempted, I may not so easily let it go.” You blinked, the air in the room seeming to thicken as his words hung between you. He took another step forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. His hand rose slowly, hesitating just for a moment before brushing the edge of the tunic where it had slipped from your shoulder. The gesture was so light, so fleeting, it could almost have been unintentional—but the look in his eyes told you otherwise.

“It is not the garment I mind,” he said softly, his fingers lingering just a moment too long against your bare skin, his gaze locking onto yours with a startling intensity. “It is the thought that others might see you like this. That I might have to share what stands before me now.” Your breath caught, the heat of his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “Thranduil,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, “it’s just a tunic.”

His lips quirked into a small, knowing smile, though his gaze never softened. “Perhaps to you. But to me, it is far more than that.” His hand fell away as he leaned in, his face mere inches from yours now. His voice dropped lower, barely more than a whisper, but it carried the weight of a command. “Be more mindful of how you tempt me. You may not like where it leads.” Your heart raced, your words catching in your throat as his meaning settled over you like the heat of the firelight. “Who says I wouldn’t?” you managed to whisper, though your voice wavered with the tension of the moment.

For a moment, he froze, his gaze sharpening as if searching your expression for the truth behind your words. His hand, which had fallen to his side, tightened into a loose fist as though reining himself in. Then, slowly, he straightened, the icy mask of the elven king sliding back into place with practiced ease. “Be ready for supper,” he said, his voice cool and composed once more, though his words carried an undeniable weight. “And wear something less… distracting.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel, his robes sweeping behind him as he disappeared into the hallway, leaving you standing there, breathless and warm, the echo of his touch still lingering on your shoulder.

🍃𝓛𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓼

The quiet chambers of Mirkwood were bathed in the warm, flickering glow of the hearth, the light casting golden shadows on the stone walls. The faint scent of cedar lingered in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest beyond the balcony. Legolas stepped through the carved wooden door with his usual Elven grace, the gentle creak of the hinges the only sound that broke the stillness. His sharp eyes, gleaming with the light of the fire, immediately sought you out.

You stood in the center of the room, hesitant, your fingers brushing nervously at the hem of the oversized tunic you wore. It was one of his—a garment you’d found folded neatly atop the guest bed, clean and soft but unmistakably his. The loose fabric hung down past your knees, its neckline slipping off one shoulder to expose more skin than you were comfortable with. The tunic billowed lightly with your every shift, and though it covered you, the way it clung in places and revealed too much in others made you feel distinctly… vulnerable.

Legolas froze mid-step, his crystalline blue gaze locking on you as if you’d stolen all the air from the room. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out at first, his expression flickering between surprise, concern, and something far more unreadable. He tilted his head just so, as though trying to make sense of the sight before him. “Is… is that my tunic?” His voice, usually steady and serene, carried a hint of bewilderment, the faintest quirk of his brow betraying his confusion.

You shrugged, trying to feign indifference but failing miserably under his piercing gaze. “I didn’t really have anything else to wear,” you explained, your voice quieter than usual. “My clothes were still drying from the river, and this was here, so…” You gestured vaguely to yourself, feeling the heat creep up your neck and cheeks. “It’s fine, right?”

Legolas stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. The flickering light of the fire danced in his eyes as they roved over you—not with judgment, but with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He stopped just short of you, his tall frame towering yet somehow gentle in its proximity. “It is not… improper,” he said carefully, though the faint flush blooming at the tips of his ears betrayed him. “Though I must admit…” He paused, as if searching for the right words, his gaze drifting to the exposed curve of your shoulder. “It is… revealing.”

You laughed softly, a nervous edge to the sound as you pulled the loose fabric back up your shoulder. “Revealing? Says the elf who walks around in robes with slits up to—” You stopped yourself with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at him. “I think your standards for modesty are a little… flexible.”

His lips parted in a soft exhale, and you swore you saw the faintest twitch of amusement tug at the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps,” he conceded, his voice low, almost teasing. “But when it is you wearing my tunic…” He trailed off, his words hanging in the air like a string plucked on a harp. “When it’s me, what?” you challenged gently, meeting his gaze, though your heart thudded loudly in your chest. “Do I wear it poorly? Should I have asked for something less ‘revealing,’ your highness?” You added the last part with a playful lilt, trying to ease the tension that had settled between you.

“No,” he said swiftly, too swiftly, his tone softening immediately after. “No, it is not that. It is…” His hands twitched at his sides as if unsure whether to reach for you. “It suits you. Better than I expected.” You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “Better than you expected?” you repeated, arching an eyebrow. “You make it sound like I’ve been parading around in your clothes for weeks.”

“Have you?” he countered, his voice dipping into something teasing, his sharp gaze briefly flicking over you again. The faintest ghost of a smile played on his lips now, though his posture remained composed, regal. “No!” you said, shaking your head. “I just—” You sighed, gesturing helplessly at the tunic. “It was either this or sitting around freezing in a damp shirt. And it’s not like anyone else is here to see me.” You hesitated, catching the way his eyes softened. “Except you, apparently.”

Legolas tilted his head, his expression gentling further, the faint blush on his cheeks lingering. “I would not fault you for choosing comfort,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost tender. “Though…” He reached out, his fingers grazing the fabric where it pooled loosely over your wrist. “I must admit, I am unused to seeing you so… unguarded.” “Unguarded?” you echoed, a small laugh escaping you. “I’m wearing your tunic, not armor.”

“It is not the tunic,” he said, his gaze steady and earnest. “It is… you.” His fingers brushed against your wrist again, feather-light but enough to make your breath hitch. “You wear it with a grace I did not know my garments could possess.” You blinked up at him, momentarily speechless, before narrowing your eyes slightly. “You’re just trying to distract me from the fact that you think I look ridiculous.” He smiled then, soft and genuine, the kind of smile that could break down even the strongest walls.

“Ridiculous?” he repeated, shaking his head slightly. “No, Mellon nîn or shall I say meleth nǐn.” The Elvish slipped from his lips like a melody, and though you didn’t know the meaning, it made your heart ache in the best way. “Far from it.” And for a moment, as he stood there in the firelight, his fingers lingering near yours, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever be able to look at that tunic the same way again.

🏹𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓻

The quiet serenity of the guest chambers of Lothlórien is broken only by the soft crackle of the hearth. The golden light dances on the smooth, pale walls, casting flickering shadows that shift as if alive. Outside, the faint hum of the Elven woods persists, a sound so subtle and ancient it feels as though it could weave dreams.

Haldir steps in, his presence commanding yet measured, as always. His silver hair gleams in the firelight, and his sharp, discerning gaze immediately sweeps the room before settling on you. He stops short, and for a moment, the mask of stoicism that is his constant companion falters. His eyes widen, just slightly, betraying his initial surprise.

You stand there, clothed only in one of his tunics, which hangs loosely around you, brushing against your knees. The neckline dips further than you expected, the fabric slipping off one shoulder to reveal your skin beneath. The garment is clearly oversized, its looseness making it far more revealing than you intended. You shift awkwardly under his gaze, both self-conscious and oddly amused by the rare moment of silence from the Marchwarden.

“Haldir,” you start, breaking the tension. “I didn’t expect you so soon. I didn’t have time to… change.” Your voice carries an air of calm, though your heartbeat quickens. His gaze snaps to yours, his usual composure quickly returning, though a faint flush lingers high on his cheekbones. “I see,” he says, his tone carefully even, though there’s a tightness to it that suggests he’s restraining himself. He takes a step closer, his eyes darting—unbidden—back to where the tunic slips off your shoulder, exposing a sliver of collarbone.

“I trust,” he begins, clearing his throat as if to steady himself, “that you are aware how… unconventional this attire is.” His voice is low, calm, but there’s a tension beneath it—a mix of protectiveness and something more hesitant. “Such a sight might… cause distraction to others. Particularly in my halls.”

You arch a brow at him, crossing your arms over your chest, which only causes the tunic to shift further, sliding a bit higher on one leg and baring more of your skin. “Your halls?” you counter, a faint smirk playing on your lips. “And here I thought these were the halls of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn.”

Haldir’s lips press into a thin line, though there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He takes another step closer, his voice softening but losing none of its authority. “You know what I mean. Such…” he gestures vaguely at your attire, clearly uncomfortable even addressing it, “an ensemble is not… fitting.”

You tilt your head, letting the smirk grow. “Oh? And who decides what is fitting, Haldir? You?” There’s a playful lilt to your tone now, and you can see the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, as though he’s torn between exasperation and amusement. “It is… unbecoming,” he insists, though his voice has lost some of its sternness. His gaze flickers once more to the slipping neckline, and he quickly averts his eyes, clearly wrestling with himself. “What if one of my brothers or the sentries had seen you like this?”

You take a step toward him, your bare feet silent on the stone floor, and tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. “But they didn’t,” you say, your voice soft but teasing. “You’re the only one who’s seen me like this. Shouldn’t that be enough?” Haldir freezes, his breath hitching at your words. For a moment, the guarded walls he keeps so firmly in place seem to crack, and he looks at you—not as the Marchwarden of Lothlórien, but as Haldir, the Elf who feels so deeply yet shows so little. His lips part slightly, as though he’s about to say something, but no words come.

You take another step closer, your movements deliberate now, emboldened by his reaction. “Haldir,” you say, your voice softening, “you don’t have to pretend to be so composed all the time. It’s just me.”

He exhales sharply, as though your words have pierced through the layers of his restraint. “You test my patience,” he murmurs, though his tone lacks any real bite. There’s something almost tender in the way he looks at you now, his gaze lingering on your face, your eyes, before flicking back to the tunic once more. “You… shouldn’t wear things like this,” he says finally, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Not when you don’t understand what it does to me.”

The confession hangs in the air between you, and for a moment, you’re both silent. Then, a slow, mischievous smile spreads across your face. “Oh,” you say, your tone light but pointed. “And what does it do to you, Haldir?”

He steps closer still, his composure unraveling further with each passing second. The faint flush on his cheeks deepens, and he looks at you as though you’re the most dangerous thing he’s ever encountered. “It makes me forget my duty,” he admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And that is something I cannot afford.”

You reach out, your hand brushing lightly against his arm. “Maybe forgetting your duty, just for a moment, wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” Haldir’s breath catches again, and for a moment, you think he might close the remaining distance between you. But then, with a deep inhale, he steps back, his usual composure snapping back into place like a shield. “You should change,” he says, his voice firmer now but still soft. “Before someone else sees you.”

You watch him for a moment, the tension still palpable, before nodding. “As you wish, Marchwarden,” you reply, a hint of teasing in your tone. As you turn to gather your clothes, you catch the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips—a smile that’s gone almost as soon as it appears. But the way his eyes linger on you, even as he tries to compose himself, tells you that you’ve left him thoroughly shaken.

[hansmic]

ཻུ۪۪♡ 𝒞𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓉 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈┊ཻུ۪۪♡

han jisung x female! reader

summary: After dinner, han jisung sets up a surprise candlelit walk around the neighborhood, holding hands and reflecting on your relationship so far. you share your hopes and dreams for the future, making promises to each other in the soft glow of the candles, and also a unexpected surprise proposal.

genre: fluff, romance

word count: 688

『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』『♡』•『♡』•『

Jisung led you through the quiet streets, the warm glow of candles illuminating the path. The flickering flames created a magical atmosphere, as if they were the only two people in the world.

The quiet was broken only by the soft sound of their footsteps and the occasional rustling of leaves. They walked hand in hand, enjoying each other's company and the peaceful surroundings

"This feels like a scene from a movie," Jisung said, his voice a little quieter than usual. "Walking hand in hand, the candlelight casting a warm glow, it's all so romantic.'

You giggled, feeling a little coy. "Who knew the great Han Jisung was such a romantic?" you teased, giving his hand a little squeeze. It was amazing to think that this was the same person you had been crushing on for so long, and it still took your breath away to be with him like this.

"I just want to make this night perfect for you," Jisung said, looking into your eyes. "I know our relationship hasn't always been smooth sailing, but I want you to know that I'm grateful for every moment we have together. I love you."

You felt your heart swell with emotion. "I love you too," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I can't believe how lucky I am to have you in my life. I can't wait to see what the future holds for us."

As you walked, the air was filled with whispered promises and declarations of love. The night seemed to stretch on forever, each moment more perfect than the last. And as the candles began to burn down, Jisung knew it was time for the final surprise.

He stopped suddenly, turning to face you. His eyes were shining with excitement as he dropped down to one knee. "There's something I've been wanting to ask you," he said, reaching into his pocket.

You felt your heart leap into your throat as Jisung pulled out a small, velvet box. Inside was a beautiful ring, its diamond catching the light and casting sparkles onto the ground. You could hardly breathe as Jisung spoke the words you had been dreaming of.

Jisung took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "I never thought I'd find someone like you," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "You've changed my life in so many ways, and I can't imagine my future without you. You're my best friend, my soulmate, my everything. I love you more than words can express.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you," Jisung continued, his voice trembling slightly. "I want to wake up every morning next to you, to share all my joys and sorrows with you, and to support you in all your dreams. You're the person I want to grow old with, the person I want to build a life with. And I can't wait to start that journey with you."

As he finished, Jisung held out the ring, his hand trembling slightly. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with love and hope. "Will you marry me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You felt your eyes well up with tears as you stared at the ring, your heart bursting with joy. You nodded, unable to speak. Finally, you found your voice, and said the words that would change your life forever. "Yes," you whispered. "Yes, I will marry you."

Jisung slipped the ring onto your finger, and you both stood up, tears streaming down your faces. You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly. The moment was perfect, a memory you would cherish forever.

"I promise to love you for the rest of my life," Jisung said, kissing you softly. "I can't wait to start this next chapter with you, my love."

You held onto him, feeling completely and utterly in love. The ring sparkled on your finger, a symbol of the promises you had made to each other. You knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey, and you couldn't wait to see what the future held for you both.

『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』『♡』•『♡』•『

Happy Valentine’s Day!

make sure to check out my other stories masterlist is here!

[moongirlcleo]

Summer

AN: Check out all of my works on AO3! -> | link

He seems to come alive in the summertime. The dawn breaks over the horizon as Caleb hits his fiftieth pushup. The sweat, glistening over his taut form, shines like stardust in the night sky. His breaths come steady, controlled, even as his muscles protest.

You watch from the porch, your coffee long since gone cold, but you don’t care. It’s not the caffeine that keeps you awake—it’s him. The way his body moves, the way the golden light catches on his skin, the way he thrives in this season like he was carved from the very essence of summer itself.

"You're staring," he says without looking up, a lazy grin curling at his lips.

You scoff, but you don’t deny it.

"Just making sure you don’t pass out," you tease.

Caleb laughs, shaking his head. "I’ve been through worse." And you know he has. From his days as a top pilot for the DAA, performing air shows over Linkon City, to the battles against the Metaflux-infected Wanderers, he’s faced challenges that would break most.

There’s something about the way he carries himself, a quiet steadiness that never fully fades, even here, away from the battlefield. His movements are sharp, disciplined, but there’s a rare ease in them today. A peace you don’t often get to see.

You set your mug down on the railing, stepping onto the grass, damp with morning dew. The scent of summer lingers in the air—warm earth, salt from the nearby coastline, and something unmistakably Caleb.

"You don’t have to push yourself so hard, you know," you murmur.

He exhales, rolling out his shoulders. "Old habits."

Old habits. Ones he clings to like a lifeline, as if letting go would make him drift too far from the person he used to be. The Ace of the Skies, the golden boy of the DAA, the soldier who never backed down from a fight. But here, in the quiet warmth of the morning, he’s just Caleb.

He glances at you, amusement flickering behind that sharp blue gaze. "Why? Worried about me?"

"Always," you say without thinking, and the way his expression softens makes your heart twist.

He reaches out, fingers brushing yours, calloused from years of gripping flight controls, weapons, and the weight of responsibility. The sun is rising higher now, the golden light casting long shadows over his face. For a moment, you swear you see something unguarded in his eyes, something he doesn’t let the rest of the world see.

Finally, he sighs, ruffling his hair, leaving it an even messier blond tangle. "Fine. I’ll take it easy. For today."

You roll your eyes. "That’s the best I’m gonna get, huh?"

He grins, easy and boyish, the same way he must’ve looked before the DAA, before the Odyssey, before Ever. "You know me too well."

And you do. You know that no matter where he goes, no matter how much time passes, he’ll always be chasing something—an enemy, a sky, a past he can’t quite let go of. But for now, just for this fleeting summer morning, he’s here.

And that’s enough.

[navybrat817]

For the valentine ficlet friday: Jame Mace and "I would like my good morning kiss now." Because in my head, the crew listened to his good sense and he didn't die.

He deserved better, nonnie!

Another Sunrise

Pairing: James Mace x Female Reader

Summary: Each sunrise is a new promise with James.

Word Count: Over 600

Warnings: Established relationship, fluff, sweetness, kisses, cuddling, reference to smut, James Mace (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You gazed out the bedroom window to watch the sky gently awaken. The deep indigo of the night always felt tranquil, but watching it turn to shades of orange and gold made you feel alive. The first sunrays cast a warm glow across the nearby water, making it shimmer in the light. Waves made James feel peaceful. Watching the sun continue to rise higher, the colors bright and intense as they spread behind the clouds, you felt a sense of peace, too. Because thanks to James and his crew, the sun hadn’t died.

Each sunrise was a new hope, the day ahead full of promise.

The sound of a familiar groan behind you made you smile. “Mmm. Why are you all the way over there?” James asked, his voice low and raspy.

“Was just watching the sunrise,” you answered. You would’ve woken him up to join, but he looked like he was sleeping well and you didn’t want to disturb him.

“Oh, yeah? Well. I would like my good morning kiss now.”

“James Mace wants a good morning kiss?

“Damn right. Now get over here,” he ordered with fondness reserved only for you.

The smile stayed on your face when you went back to bed. The second you were within reach he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer. You wouldn't have pegged James Mace as a cuddler when you met him, but he proved you wrong, especially when he came back from the mission.

You didn't hesitate to press your lips against his, your heart beating faster when he immediately deepened it. He could be blunt at times and couldn't always express himself with gentle words, but you never once doubted his love for you. In his kiss, you felt the same sense of hope and promise you did when you watched the sun come up.

Just as heat spread through the kiss, you pulled away to ask, “Do you ever miss it?”

“Miss what?” he asked, trying to recapture your lips with his.

“Being up there,” you said.

He was a brilliant engineer. A hero. Some days you wondered if being back on the ground with you was enough. You couldn’t blame him if he said he missed it or wanted to go up there again. Some people belonged in the sky. Who were you to clip his wings?

Running a hand across his buzzed head, he sighed. “Some days I miss the mission itself, having a goal and setting out to accomplish it. The view wasn't bad either,” he answered, a faraway look in his eyes. “But the crew didn’t listen to me half the time and it drove me nuts. And you know I’m always right.”

“Oh, yes. Always,” you teased. Blunt or not, he often spoke the truth and voiced unpopular opinions even if people didn’t want to hear it.

“Glad you agree,” he said, chuckling when you nudged him. “But that’s not where I want to be. I did my job and now I’m back here with you where I belong.”

When he pulled you back in for a kiss, you didn’t stop him this time. He didn’t always say he loved you with words, but you felt it in every kiss. He wordlessly promised that he would always be by your side. So you let him make love to you as the sun shone through the window. You cried out his name like a prayer and thanked whatever power there was for bringing him home safely.

And maybe tomorrow when you woke up to watch the sunrise, you’d ask him to join you.

Love and thanks for participating! ❤️

Masterlist ��� Ko-Fi

[dragonbackvoyager]

I lose it a little bit every time I look at your art here because just look at how precious this moment is!! The adorably fluffy highland alongside Taurosso looking so sweet with them both against the sunset- your colors compliment Taurosso’s palette gorgeously, and I love the way that the oranges make the whole piece feel extra cozy!

One of my favorite things about the pose is how Taurosso’s legs are crossed, it just feels so natural and comfortable 🧡 of course only emphasized by him giving his friend a hug~

Thank you again for the attack!!

✨Cozy coo cuddles✨

Character is Taurosso for @dragonbackvoyager ❤️❤️❤️

[chastiefoul]

how they'd react when you wanted to sleep on the couch... just because.

fluff. light-hearted ft. gojo, nanami, sukuna, suguru, toji, choso

satoru

“baby scooch over.” a whispered voice along with a gentle nudge on the shoulder woke you from your dozed off state. “hmm?” you mumbled out, blinking your terribly heavy lids open although to no avail they’re begging to keep themselves shut. satoru glanced at you with a frown on his eyes with a pillow held close to his body. “scooch over baby,” he pleaded, kneeling beside the couch you’re currently lying on.

“go back to bed toru,” you said softly, tugging your blanket closer. “but you’re not there,” he whined, intertwining his hand with yours as he attacked it with kisses, not letting you go back to sleep, especially if it’s without him. “i thought you said you’re going to be fine?” you asked, jogging the memory of him being all smug while saying you could do whatever you wanted. “that was not me, i would never say that,” he said promptly and goodness you didn’t know before someone’s lips could turned that much downward. you chuckled breathily, knowing this will happen sooner or later.

you scooted over on the big couch, leaving him the space he’d been begging for. you could have sworn you heard a squeal before you’re wrapped in satoru’s warm hold, his head resting snugly atop of yours. “no sleeping on here anymore. not without me,” he said into your hair, kissing it softly.

❀

nanami

“but why, love?” he asked, having a hard time comprehending your wish to sleep alone on the living room only because... you randomly wanted to? you chuckled looking at his bewildered face, an expression of someone who’s probably racking his brain upside down thinking that he’s done something wrong. “ken, i promise it’s just because i feel like it and no reason other than that.” you cupped his face, planting a soft kiss on his nose.

nanami looked a little relieved, albeit sullen, hesitant in asking whether he could invite himself in or you wanted a little time for yourself. and when it’s finally time to sleep it’s becoming more obvious that your lover wasn’t going to make it easy for you.

“need any more blanket honey?” he asked tapping the head of the couch as he stood there a tad nervous, knowing full well you got everything you needed since he insisted to be the one to prepare it. pillows, blanket, a hot drink, he’s got it all for you. “i’m perfect here, ken. you can go to bed,” you said with a reassuring smile, yet it did the opposite effect to the man.

“can i be here until you sleep, my love? it’s just that i feel like i wouldn’t be able to rest properly until i see you do the same.” he stroke your cheek softly with his thumb, and when you leaned into his touch he knew he’s gone for you. that there’s no way he could be asleep if he went back to the bedroom in that moment—unless you’re with him, of course. though, he didn’t say this, he just continued combing through your strands of hair, loving the peaceful expression on your face.

and unfortunately for the blond man, when it comes to these things his thoughts were written all over his face. you already caught on the fact that he wanted to lie down with you there yet his wish in prioritizing your wants refrained him from speaking his. you laughed a little, feeling a burst of fondness towards the tall man.

“on a second thought, can you sleep here with me ken?” he moved as quick as the sentence ended, already making his way under the blanket. he sneaked a hand around your waist, pressing your body closer against him. “i was kind of hoping you’d ask,” he mumbled, slightly embarrassed. you snuggled closer to his chest, feeling utmost comfort as he rubbed your back gently.

“i know.”

❀

sukuna

not even ten minutes in trying to sleep on the said couch, sukuna had already carried you back towards your shared bedroom.

“but-“

“no.”

he put you on the bed gently, then he draped a blanket over as he tucked you in. sukuna has that look of a man who’s determined in keeping you there, and you already knew it’s a fight you could not win thus, you turned for another plan instead: pouting.

even until he got beside you as he rested his big hand on your stomach, you refused to look at him, crossing your hands in front of your chest. he sighed, “give me one good reason i should let you sleep out there,” he said exasperatedly. “cause i want some me time?” you claimed. even you weren’t sure why you’re battling him so hard on this.

“then have it here in this bed with me. you’ll get all cold later and cling to me later anyways. i’m just speeding up the process.” he replied, already closing his eyes.

“what a strange way of saying you couldn’t sleep without me,” you said, with a grin on your face. the feeling of his thumb moving against your skin brought you immense comfort, your impulsive plan long forgotten.

“if you already knew that then quit making it harder for me, brat.”

❀

toji

he stared at you who’s already making yourself comfortable on the couch, amused. “looking cozy there,” he said with a grin, a face of someone who’s up to no good. “yeah, it’s actually not ba-“ the sentence was cut off was your own squeal, toji had picked you up as he took your lying down position and put you top of him.

“you could’ve just asked first!” you fumed, hitting his bicep—which did more to you and it did him, how could one even get their muscle to be as hard as that? he just chuckled in response, putting a hand around your waist. “sorry doll, got too excited,” he said lazily, already seemed all happy, like he had all he needed.

and he did, with you close to him resting your head on his chest, knowing that you loved counting his heartbeat. the man was truly content.

“we really should get a bigger couch,” you mumbled. we should get everything you wanted, toji thought. but it’d be a bit much to say in the moment so instead he just continued rubbing your sides until you dozed off, plunging into the dream land.

“sleep.”

❀

suguru

“whatcha got there baby?” he asked, an easy smile on his face. there’s really no day with you where you didn’t make him tilt his head questioningly. “’m going to sleep here tonight,” you said, fluffing the pillow before lying down on it comfortably.

“okay, where’s mine then?”

“your what?”

“my pillow. you didn’t bring mine along yours?”

“oh well i just thought you’d want to sleep in the bed anyway?” you replied, and suguru looked like you just insulted him deeply. the couch dipped, he then lied down beside you on the same pillow, making him extra close as he embraced you. “i sleep where you sleep baby, you make me this way. i can no longer rest when i don’t get to hold you close like this,” he said softly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

you have a big smile on your face as he said this, inhaling his familiar scent as you put your arms around him. “that better not be a complaint,” you said, cuddling closer to the man.

“never.” he kissed your temple.

❀

choso

it seriously look like it killed him when he had to walk away from the room, leaving you to sleep by yourself on the couch. his steps were excruciatingly slow, taking as much time as he could in case you changed your mind.

“cho?” you almost laughed looking at the way he perked up, a hopeful expression on his face. “can you turn off the light on your way?” and it almost felt too cruel the way the sparkle on his eyes dimmed, his shoulders beyond slumped. he then practically had to drag his own feet before letting out a small nod.

you chuckled, couldn’t keep up with the teasing anymore. “i’m kidding baby, do you wanna get in here?” you lifted up the blanket, patting the empty space next to you. it was the fastest you’ve ever seen him, as he’s beside you in no time.

he clinged to you tightly, like he’s making sure as much of his skin made contact with yours, a satisfied smile on his face. his hair tickled your neck nicely, as you traced the area below his eye with back of your finger.

“next time you want something just ask, cho.”

[kokomyass]

skincare routine

thinking about doing skincare on your hubby nanamin...

"Baby… sit still… I'm almost finished," you murmur, your voice gentle as you pour a small amount of moisturizer into your hands. You rub your palms together, warming the lotion before you begin to delicately massage it into your husband's face.

Nanami sits patiently before you, his eyes closed in peaceful surrender. His strong chin rests against your abdomen as you stand between his legs, giving you full access to his perfectly sculpted features.

"Of course, my love. Take your time," Nanami’s deep, resonant voice rumbles, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You continue to apply the moisturizer, your fingers moving tenderly across his face. His skin, smooth and radiant, glistens under the soft glow of the lights. You can't help but admire the way his freshly washed hair, still damp, clings to his forehead, with the occasional drop of water trailing down his neck.

Nanami is dressed in a loose-fitting dressing gown, the fabric parting just enough to offer you a tantalizing view of his muscular chest and broad shoulders. The sight makes your heart race, and you marvel at how incredibly lucky you are to have this Greek god of a man as your husband.

After lingering for a few moments, lost in admiration, you lean down to cup his face in your hands, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. Nanami responds instantly, his kiss warm and eager.

"All done, Nanamin," you say, a bright smile lighting up your face as you pull back slightly to meet his gaze.

He opens his eyes, looking up at you with a soft, affectionate smile. "Thank you, my wife," he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth and gratitude. His hands slide up to gently hold your waist, his touch firm yet comforting.

You chuckle softly, running your fingers through his damp hair as you feel his grip tighten slightly, pulling you closer. "Anything for you," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart flutter.

Nanami leans forward, resting his forehead against your stomach, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "You spoil me, you know that?" he says, his voice muffled but rich with affection.

You brush a stray lock of hair from his face, your heart swelling with love. "You deserve it," you say simply, the sincerity in your voice clear.

He tilts his head up, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one deeper and more lingering. When he finally pulls away, there's a softness in his expression that takes your breath away. "I’m the luckiest man in the world to have you," he says, his voice filled with quiet conviction.

Your cheeks warm at his words, and you can’t help but smile even wider. "And I'm the luckiest to have you, Nanami," you whisper back, your heart overflowing with emotion.

The two of you stay like that for a moment longer, wrapped up in each other's presence, before he finally stands, pulling you into a warm embrace. As his arms envelop you, you realize that moments like this—simple, tender, and filled with love—are the ones you cherish most.

credit to artist ayushnz

[requiemforthepoets]

baby peanut! 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x wife!reader

SUMMARY: keeping your pregnancy from lando was proven to be very hard when all you want is tell him the amazing news that you both are expecting again. but since his birthday was coming up, you waited for his special day to tell him.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: reader is french-russian, multicultural household, established relationships, pregnancy, typos, and gramatical errors

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HAPPY LANDO DAY!!!!! was debating on posting a new fic for him, but decided to just make it a part of the norris family series, though this can be read as a stand alone. hope you’ll enjoy this one!

The soft morning light was just beginning to filter through the white curtains when you stirred awake, glancing over to see Lando fast asleep beside you. His peaceful face looked even more boyish, framed by the tousled strands of hair he hadn’t bothered to tame before collapsing into bed after last night’s stream. It had been hours before he joined you in bed, he and Max laughing and gaming into the early morning, and you knew he deserved this rest.

Just as you began to carefully sit up, you heard a soft rustling sound from the bedroom doorway. Peeking over, you spotted a small figure, a very familiar figure—a little silhouette with tousled hair, just like Lando’s, and sparkling eyes, trying best to tiptoe into the room. It was Thylane, with her tiny hands clutching her favorite blankie. You could see that she was struggling to hold back a giggle as she glanced over at her sleeping father.

Smiling, you brought a finger to your lips, silently shushing her. Thylane’s eyes widened, and she stopped mid-step, freezing in the doorway. You motioned gently for her to come closer to you, and she padded over quietly, looking up at you expectantly.

“Is Papa awake yet?” She whispered, voice barely more than a breath.

The eagerness in her tone made your heart swell, and you could not help but lean down, kissing her lightly on the forehead.

“No, mon amour,” you whispered back, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Papa had a very late night with Uncle Max. He needs his sleep, let’s let him rest a little longer, hm?”

Thylane nodded, her expression brightening at the thought of what you had in mind. “But it’s Papa’s birthday! I want to say happy birthday to him!”

“I know, my love. But how about we go to the kitchen, just you and me, and make a special birthday breakfast for Papa? Then we can surprise him together when he wakes up, and…” you paused, heart fluttering as you thought about the special surprise you had planned, one that you had kept to yourself until today. “And there’s something very exciting we’ll be giving him. Something you’re going to help me with, too.”

Her eyes lit up, and she bounced on her toes, already whispering with excitement. “What is it, Mama?”

“You’ll see, mon petit trésor,” you murmured with a soft smile. “It’s a surprise just as much for you as it is for your Papa. Now, come on.”

You grabbed your silk robe by the vanity chair and put it on. Taking Thylane’s little hand in yours, you casted a quick glance back at Lando. You leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, lingering just a moment. The warmth of his skin was comforting, and for a heartbeat, you just admired the peaceful look on his face, hoping he would carry that warmth with him when he awoke to find you both by his side. Then you carefully lifted Thylane into your arms to keep her quiet and avoid the soft creaks of the floorboards as you slipped out of the room together.

You and Thylane moved quietly into the kitchen, both of you filled with anticipation. The kitchen was softly lit by the morning sun, casting a warm glow over the countertops as you gathered everything you needed for Lando’s birthday breakfast, with Thylane already clutching the whisk with her small hands, her tongue poking out in concentration as she tried her best to mix the batter for the pancakes.

“Like this, Mama?” She asked, glancing up at you, her face bright with determination.

“Oui, parfait, mon ange,” you replied, ruffling her hair lightly. “Now, tu peux ajouter les blueberries. Add the blueberries, like this.” You handed her a small bowl of plump blueberries, showing her how to fold them gently into the batter.

She followed your instructions very carefully, not wanting to ruin Lando’s surprise, her little fingers pushing each blueberry into the mix with care, her eyes darting to you every so often to check if she was doing it right.

“Is Papa going to love it?” She whispered.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Of course Papa’s going to love it because you made it for him,” you assured her, watching her face break into a wide grin. “Now, pass me the flour, please—la farine. Careful, don’t spill.”

With both hands, Thylane picked up the small bag of flour and brought it over, the look of focus never leaving her face. She had switched to a more serious demeanor, taking her role as your little sous-chef very seriously.

“Here, Mama!” She said proudly, handing it to you as if it were the most delicate thing in the world.

“Merci, mon trésor,” you replied, taking the flour and measuring out the right amount for the batter. “Okay, now you can stir again, doucement, like this.” You demonstrated, letting her hands follow yours as you guided her through the gentle motions.

When the pancakes were stacked high on a plate, topped with fresh berries and a drizzle of maple syrup, you and Thylane both stood back, admiring your creation.

“Look at what we made together,” you said softly, squeezing Thylane’s shoulder. “Papa will be very happy.”

Thylane clapped her hands excitedly, bouncing on her toes. “Can we give it to him now?”

“Not yet,” you shook your head, a smile forming on your lips. “There’s one more surprise we need to get ready.”

Walking over to the drawer, you retrieved the small acrylic box, some soft cloth, and your carefully wrapped pregnancy test. Thylane’s brows furrowed as she watched you, her head tilting with curiosity.

“What’s that, Mama?” She asked, peering closely at the box as you placed the soft cloth inside.

“This, my love, is a very special surprise for Papa,” you knelt down so that you were eye-level with her, placing the test in the box atop the folded cloth. “Do you remember how you told me you wanted to have a little brother or sister?”

Thylane’s eyes sparkled, and she nodded eagerly. “Yes! Yes! Does this mean…”

“Yes, Tilly. This means you’re going to be a big sister.” You smiled warmly at her.

Her face lit up, her mouth forming a perfect little “O” of excitement. “Really, Mama? I get a baby brother or sister?”

“Yes, mon trésor,” you nodded, laughing softly at her reaction. “We don’t know yet if it’s a brother or sister, but the baby is here, right inside Mama’s tummy, just a little peanut for now.”

Thylane’s eyes went wide with wonder, and she pressed her small hands to your stomach as if she was trying to feel the baby herself.

“A baby peanut!” She giggled, delight shining in her face. “Can we call the baby that for now?”

“Of course,” you chuckled, brushing her hair back. “Until we know more, we can call your little sibling, baby peanut.” She grinned, clearly enamored with the idea, and watched carefully as you tied the ribbon around the box with care.

“Can I help with the ribbon?” She asked, her hand already reaching out eagerly.

“Of course, here.” You said, guiding her hand as she carefully looped the ribbon around, tightening it with a gentle tug and finishing it off in a neat bow.

“Where should we put it, Mama?” She asked, glancing around the room.

You took a quick look at the cozy space, then pointed to a spot on the kitchen counter, just out of Lando’s immediate line of sight.

“Right here,” you decided, setting the box down gently. “That way, Papa won’t see it right away.”

Thylane nodded, grinning widely. “I can’t wait to see Papa’s reaction!”

With breakfast prepared and the surprise box tucked safely out of sight, you and Thylane made your way back to the bedroom, eager to wake up the birthday boy. By now, the sun had fully risen, casting a warm glow across the room as you nudged the door open to your and Lando’s bedroom. You expected to see Lando still sleeping peacefully, but instead, he was already awake, propped up on pillows with his phone in his hand, scrolling with a sleepy smile on his face.

Before you could say anything, Thylane let out a squeal of excitement and sprinted towards the bed, practically launching herself onto him. Lando barely had time to react before she pounced, wrapping her arms around his neck and showering Lando’s face with small kisses.

“Happy birthday, Papa! Happy birthday! Happy birthday!” She chanted, each word punctuated with a giggling kiss to Lando’s cheeks, forehead, and nose. Lando can’t help but laugh, his eyes crinkling with joy as he pulled her close, enveloping her in a warm hug.

“Thank you, Tilly!” He replied, chuckling as he looked up at her. “I don’t think I’ve ever had such a special wake-up call on my birthday before.”

She nodded enthusiastically, her face flushed with pride. “I made you a biiiiig birthday card last night! It’s pink, and has lots of hearts and sparkles on it, and I even drew a race car!”

“Woah, a race car? Just for me? Now that is one special card,” he said, brushing a few stray curls behind her ear as he smiled up at her. “I can’t wait to see it. I bet it’s the best card in the whole world.”

Giggling, Thylane seated herself on top of his stomach, her little hands resting on his chest as she looked down at Lando with pure adoration. You leaned against the doorway, laughing at the sweet sight in front of you before walking over to the bed and settling down beside Lando.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, but laced with affection. “I’m so happy that I get to spend my birthday with my favorite girls.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips softly against his. “Good morning, birthday boy,” you whispered, smiling against his lips before pulling back just slightly. “Happy birthday, my love.”

Lando grinned, puckering his lips again, silently asking for another kiss. Laughing, you leaned down, giving him another soft kiss, feeling his hand come up to gently cup your cheek. In that moment, it was just the three of you, wrapped in warmth and love, as if nothing else in the world existed. As you pulled back, Thylane let out a little giggle, pointing at the two of you with a mischievous grin.

“Ew, Mama and Papa!” She teased, though her face betrayed nothing but happiness.

Lando laughed, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “Hey, I deserve a birthday kiss, don’t I?”

“Papa! Mama and I made you a special breakfast!” She announced, clapping her hands. “We worked really, really hard. I even put the blueberries in all by myself!”

“No way! You mean to tell me you were my chef this morning, too?” Lando ticked her side, making her dissolve into giggles.

Thylane laughed, wiggling under his tickling fingers. “Yes, I’m your chef today! Mama showed me how to make everything.”

“Well, now I definitely have to see what my two favorite girls cooked up,” he said, sitting up slowly.

Lando reached over, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulled you close, then lifted Thylane into his other arm. She squealed with delight, wrapping her arms around his neck and snuggling her head against Lando’s shoulder. As the three of you made your way to the kitchen, Lando kept his arm secure around your waist, pulling you close as Thylane chattered excitedly about breakfast.

“Mama taught me how to fold in the blueberries so they wouldn’t smush!” She said proudly. “And we made a big stack of pancakes with syrup and blueberries and…oh! And I even helped tie a bow for your present!”

Lando gave you a curious look over Thylane’s shoulder. “A present, huh?” He asked, raising an eyebrow with a grin. “I’m starting to think you two were up to a lot more than just breakfast this morning.”

“Hm, maybe we were,” you replied, smiling playfully as you reached up to brush a strand of his hair back. “But you’ll have to be patient to find out.”

He chuckled, squeezing your waist. “Well, I don’t know how much patience I have today. I mean, it is my birthday.”

Laughing, you reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Good things come to those who wait, birthday boy.”

The three of you entered the kitchen, where the table was set with the special breakfast you and Thylane had made. Lando’s eyes sparkled as he took it all in, and Thylane beamed with pride, practically bouncing in his arms.

“Happy birthday, Papa!” She exclaimed one last time, her voice full of love and excitement, her little arms squeezing him tightly.

With Lando’s arm around you, and Thylane hugging him with all her might, it was clear to you that this birthday morning could not have started off any sweeter.

Breakfast was a cozy, peaceful affair, the three of you wrapped in the simplicity of the morning. You and Lando chatted about plans for his birthday dinner later, throwing around ideas and laughing at each other’s jokes, while Thylane happily watched her favorite show on her iPad, humming along with the familiar theme song of Little Einsteins. It was a gentle scene, just the three of you? Sharing a quiet, joyful space as the morning sun spilled across the table.

Lando seemed perfectly content, caught up in the warmth of the moment. He had almost forgotten about the small gift waiting for him, tucked away in the kitchen—until you stood up, brushing a gentle hand across his shoulder.

“Wait here for a sec,” you said softly, a hint of excitement in your voice. “Tilly, come help me with something for Papa.”

Thylane’s face lit up as she hopped down from her chair, glancing at you with a secretive smile. She knew exactly what was coming next. Taking her hand, you led her back into the kitchen, glancing over your shoulder to see Lando watching you both with a look of fond curiosity. He seemed completely oblivious to what was coming.

You reached into the cozy corner of the counter, pulling out the small, acrylic box you had hidden away with so much care. Inside, carefully wrapped in a soft cloth, was the positive pregnancy test. You knelt down, handing the box to Thylane, who held it carefully with wide, shining eyes.

“Okay, mon ange,” you whispered, giving her a gentle smile. “Give this to Papa, and make sure he opens it.”

She nodded, taking the box in her hands as if it were a treasure. Together, you walked back to the dining area, where Lando was watching you both with growing curiosity.

“What’s this?” He asked, raising an eyebrow with a playful grin.

Thylane held out the box, her excitement barely contained. Lando took the acrylic box, glancing from her to you, a mixture of awe and confusion on his face.

You smiled, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, leaning close. “Go on,” you said, voice soft with anticipation. “Open it.”

“Open it, Papa! Open it!” She echoed, bouncing slightly on her toes, her face brimming with excitement.

Lando carefully untied the delicate ribbon that Thylane had helped you with that morning, his fingers moving slowly as if savoring the moment. The box felt light in his hands, and his expression shifted from curiosity to wonder as he lifted the lid, pulling away the cloth inside. The instant he saw the test, his eyes widened, and Lando looked up at you with a mixture of disbelief and joy.

“Is this…” he stammered, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though he was afraid he might shatter the moment. “Is this real? Is this for real?”

You nodded, unable to contain your own smile as you squeezed his shoulder. “Yes, love. It is real.” You watched his face light up as the reality of it washed over him.

“Happy birthday, my love.” You added softly, feeling your own heart swell with happiness.

Lando did not hesitate. He stood up, pulling you into a tight embrace, arms wrapping around you as he lifted you off of your feet, twirling you in a gentle circle. His laugh was warm and filled with immense happiness so pure that it brought tears to your eyes.

“After all this time,” he murmured, voice thick with emotions as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “We’re really going to have another baby?” You nodded, laughing through your tears.

“I found out a few weeks ago, when you were in Mexico. I wanted to wait until today to tell you.” You placed a hand on his cheeks, gazing up at him with all the love you had been holding back for weeks. “It took everything in me not to tell you the moment I found out.”

He kissed you softly, his forehead pressing against yours as he whispered. “Thank you for waiting, love. This…this is literally the best birthday gift I’ve ever had.”

“Papa, did you see? It’s real!” She said, beaming and clapping her hand, while bouncing in happiness. “I’m going to have a baby brother or sister! I told Mama I want to call them baby peanut!”

“Baby peanut, huh?” Lando chuckled, bending down to lift Thylane into his arms, bringing her close to the two of you. Kissing her forehead, and looking at you with a grin. “I think that’s a perfect name, for now.”

“Papa, can we tell everyone? All our friends?” Thylane’s face lit up at the thought, and she looked back and forth between you and Lando.

“Soon, Tilly. But for now, let’s keep it our little secret, okay? Just between us.” He leaned down, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “That way, we can keep baby peanut all to ourselves a little longer.”

“Our little secret!” She nodded seriously, her eyes wide as she held her finger to her lips. “I’m really good at secrets, Papa. I won’t tell anyone!”

You all just stood there, basking in the warmth and happiness of the quiet moment, Lando had never felt a new kind of peace settle over him. This was everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever dreamed of. A family, life filled with love and laughter, and now, another little one on the way.

Lando let Thylane down, letting her run towards the living room to play with her toys. He reached out, threading his fingers through yours and giving your hand a gentle squeeze, and kissing it softly.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice breaking a little bit. “For this, for everything. You’ve given me the greatest gift of all.”

You squeezed his hand back, your own eyes shining with emotion. “I love you,” you murmured. “Happiest birthday, my love.”

As Lando held you closely, he realized that this was a happiness beyond anything he could have ever imagined.

[earthtooz]

phainon x gn!scholar reader, phainon is so in love and reader is oblivious

The Chrysos Heir is in love.

The moment Phainon’s eyes first met yours, there was a stutter in his heart, an indescribable feeling of reverence coupled with curiosity creeped into his being when he first met you.

Beautiful. That was the only word he knew at the time.

Your beauty was unparalleled, unmatched as you saunter into his view, mind not exactly present in the moment as your clothes swayed with your every hurried step. Your eyes were foggy, a testament to your dedication and work, evidenced by the tablet you held snug to your side.

He decides in that moment that he wants to know you, so he purposefully sets himself in your line of movement and waits for the moment when you bump into him, far too focused in a world that wasn’t the one you were presently in. Fate decided to be kind to him when you fall right into his schemes, allowing him to catch you with an arm secured around your waist, your tablet falling to the stone pavement with a dull smack.

“Oh my!” you exclaim. “My utmost apologies, I was not aware of where I was going-”

He smiles, for the last thing he was thinking of was your apology. Even your voice is beautiful, the words flowing into his ears like warm ichor.

“It’s alright,” he reassures with that smile of his, almost faltering when his heart skips another beat the moment your eyes flit to look at his. Phainon thinks he’s going to collapse to his knees if you glance away. “I’ll forgive you if you tell me your name.”

Unaware of his flirtatious intentions, you sound out the syllables of your name and he repeats it with much wonder. “What a lovely name. I’m Phainon, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The Chrysos Heir is in love.

It’s been two years since he first met you, and you are still just as enchanting.

He learns you are a widely renowned scholar and author, which explains the tablet you held that day. Of course, you were shocked the moment he uttered his name, for the titles of the Chrysos Heirs were well known, essentially common knowledge for those that flourished in the world of academia. Phainon still cherishes the memory of your expression, keeping it in the back of his mind and musing over it in private.

If you had known he was holding that over you, you would have thrown a slew of unpretty words at him with that pretty voice of yours, and he would have cherished them the same way he does with all of your works.

Whenever Phainon hears that your most recent novel has been released, he is one of the first to scour for it, reading it from start to finish within days. Even your publications from years before have a place on his shelves, there is no book of yours that he has not purchased and proceeded to read from front to back.

He insists on meeting you whenever he can, and while you answer a question he asked, he’s trying to keep his marvelling to a minimum, trying to keep these feelings from spilling all over you as he lets you know that his undivided attention is on you.

You’re skeptical of him. You wonder why he seeks your companionship specifically, what about you entertained him enough to invite you on market walks, buy your favourite drink from your favourite stall, and then sit on a marble bench in a quiet park underneath falling leaves.

As you’re busy pondering, he jolts whenever your thigh brushes against his.

The Chrysos Heir is in love.

His favourite time to admire you is when you’re deep in thought and unaware of the world around you, too focused on the wax tablet that sits on your desk.

Despite the practicality of papers, you tell him you like the sensation of writing on wax, how your pen glides along, all of your bursts of inspiration occur like this, so they hold a dear place in your heart. Soft chatter is exchanged, he tells you about his day, you share some idle musings about yours, then you let him know of the most recent developments of your work before he lets you write in peace.

Phainon tries not to stare too much, knows it’s unbecoming to do so, but he can’t help letting his eyes linger on you as your hand scrawls, occasionally taking a break here and there but never letting the train of thought end without it being recorded.

He could watch forever. He could be here forever, sitting in a comfortable chaise in the corner of your study, rendering himself invisible in your periphery as he just gets to exist with you.

The Chrysos Heir is in love.

It’s not widely known, perhaps less than a handful of people know, and it’s not because he has confessed it to them outright, but because they have caught on to the subtleties.

The company he surrounds himself with knows well enough about the scholar that has caught his heart, and how he refuses to run away. They give him teasing looks now and then whenever the prospect of romance and love is raised, and glance specifically at the light-haired when your name is mentioned in passing, not wanting to miss the softening of his bright gaze.

It’s even more entertaining because you are not aware of it.

You are not aware of Phainon’s awestruck eyes whenever he looks at you, how he leans closer whenever you speak, desperate to close the gap however he can. You are not aware of how he speaks your name so gently, as if wanting the wind to take the words away and to you so that no one else may hear. You are not aware of the little world Phainon lives in where it’s just you and him, existing together.

The rest of the Chrysos Heir hound after him relentlessly when they first discovered of your ignorance to his feelings, and now they make it their life mission to make fun of him for it, especially before you.

Phainon does not mind, well- tries not to, because he is in love.

As infuriating it is that you haven’t caught on, despite your immense intelligence, he waits patiently for the day you will.

Even though he yearns to declare it from the highest point of Amphoreus, that his very being has been seized by you, he is content with the quiet moments you share now, and he will happily take all that you give him, even if he wants more.

Phainon is in love.

© EARTHTOOZ 2025, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[dragon-ascent]

Headcanon that Morax can flirt like CRAZY...except he's not really aware that he's flirting; he's just being sincere.

You see him seated, practicing various styles of traditional calligraphy with dexterous strokes of his brush. When you move closer you realise, as your heart skips several beats, that he's been writing your name - over and over in countless elegant styles.

When you bashfully ask him about it, he responds - with a deadpan expression, "It is a name most beautiful; one that flows from my ink as easily as water in a river."

You subsequently roll around on the floor, not knowing how else to channel your poor flabbergasted heart, as your divine lover calmly continues his calligraphic endeavors.

He'd be creating Mora from his body while you're lounging around on the bed. The deity would sigh, "Ah, all the gold I make cannot compare to this leisurely sight of you at peace."

You stare at him agog as he blinks back at you earnestly. His golden gaze is more intense than the sheen of the Mora, yet his expression is mundane. It takes everything in you not to chew up the pillows.

One day, he's telling you all about his visit to Fontaine, where he sampled some exquisite tasses ragout. He explains how the warm flavors masterfully mingled on his tongue and left him wanting more.

So you ask him, "Is it the most delicious thing you have ever tasted?"

Your god doesn't even hesitate before his answer. "Hm, not at all."

"Then what is?" You expect him to name a traditional Liyuen dish like Adeptus' Temptation, or Jueyun chilli chicken, or...

Morax maintains his beautiful poker face. "I would have to say...you have the most enjoyable taste."

You promptly head to the top of Mt. Tianheng and scream your lungs out.

[xo100]

A summer to remember - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Lando, Y/N, and their daughter Isla enjoy a perfect summer vacation filled with love, beach fun, and yacht adventures.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 2388

୨ৎ

It was a beautiful summer morning, and the sun was already casting its golden glow over the peaceful coastline. The soft sound of waves lapping against the shore could be heard through the open windows of the cozy villa where Lando Norris, his wife, and their one-year-old daughter, Isla, were spending their vacation. It was a much-needed break from Lando's hectic Formula 1 schedule, and he was determined to make the most of every second with his little family.

Inside the villa, the sweet scent of fresh pastries filled the air as Y/N was busy in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the three of them. Isla was sitting in her highchair, her big, curious eyes watching her mom move around, while her tiny hands held onto a small stuffed bear that she never seemed to let go of. Lando, fresh from a shower, entered the kitchen with a content smile, his heart swelling at the sight of his two favorite girls.

“Morning, love,” he murmured, stepping up behind Y/N and wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her neck. “You’re up early. Didn’t think we’d need to be up so soon on holiday.”

Y/N smiled, leaning back into him as she flipped a pancake. “Well, someone woke up hungry,” she said, glancing over at Isla, who was babbling happily to her bear. “Besides, it’s too beautiful outside to waste the day.”

Lando hummed in agreement, his chin resting on Y/N's shoulder as he watched her cook. “You’re right. What’s the plan today, then? What amazing adventure are we going on?”

Y/N turned her head to meet his gaze, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I thought we could start with a beach day. Just us, some sand, and the ocean. Maybe build a sandcastle with Isla. She’s been dying to get her hands in the sand.”

Lando grinned, his eyes lighting up at the idea. He loved the thought of spending the day on the beach with his family, especially if it meant seeing Isla’s face light up with excitement. “That sounds perfect,” he said, stealing a quick kiss before letting her go. “But I think we should add something extra later. How about a yacht ride this afternoon? I’ve already got one booked for us.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise and delight. “A yacht? Seriously, Lando?”

“Of course,” he replied with a cocky smile, giving her a playful wink. “Figured we’d sail off into the sunset like in the movies. You know, champagne in hand, wind in our hair… or at least, your hair. Isla and I don’t have much of that,” he teased, running a hand through his slightly damp hair for emphasis.

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re too much sometimes, Norris.”

Lando winked. “And you love it.”

Isla, hearing her dad’s voice, squealed excitedly, her little arms reaching out towards him. Lando’s expression softened instantly as he scooped her up from the highchair and spun her around, her giggles filling the kitchen. “There’s my girl!” he said, holding her close and pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. “Ready for a fun day with Mum and Dad?”

Isla giggled in response, her tiny hand grabbing onto Lando’s shirt, holding on as if she never wanted to let go. Lando’s heart melted, as it did every time he looked at his daughter. She was the perfect mix of both him and Y/N—her sparkling eyes and infectious laughter were all her mother, while the little dimple in her cheek and the mischievous glint in her eye were pure Lando.

-

After breakfast, the three of them headed down to the beach, which was only a short walk from the villa. The sand was warm beneath their feet, and the ocean stretched out in front of them, glittering under the morning sun. It was the kind of picture-perfect day that made it hard to believe anything else existed beyond this little slice of paradise.

Lando carried Isla on his hip, holding her tiny hand as she stared wide-eyed at the ocean for the first time. Her mouth formed a little "o" of wonder as the gentle breeze tousled her soft hair. “Look at that, Isla,” Lando said, pointing towards the waves. “Isn’t it beautiful? Just like your mum.”

Y/N, who had been spreading out a blanket, glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Lando’s words. “Flatterer,” she teased, though her cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. No matter how long they’d been together, Lando always knew how to make her heart skip a beat.

Once everything was set up, Y/N and Lando took turns playing with Isla in the sand, helping her dig little holes and attempting to build a sandcastle that mostly ended up in a pile of mush, thanks to Isla’s enthusiastic hands. Lando pretended to be frustrated as Isla gleefully knocked over the little towers he was trying to make. “Isla, love, I’m trying to build a masterpiece here,” he said in mock seriousness, though his grin gave him away.

Isla just giggled, grabbing another handful of sand and letting it slip through her tiny fingers. Y/N watched them with a smile, her heart swelling with love. There was something so pure and beautiful about the way Lando interacted with their daughter. He was playful, patient, and so incredibly gentle with her, like she was the most precious thing in the world. And to him, she was. Both of them were.

-

After a few hours of playing in the sand and dipping their toes in the water, it was time for Isla’s nap. Y/N and Lando packed up their things and headed back to the villa, where Isla quickly fell asleep in her crib, her little face peaceful and content.

With their daughter sound asleep, Y/N and Lando had a rare moment of quiet together. They sat out on the terrace, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun. Lando stretched out on the lounge chair next to her, his hand lazily tracing circles on her leg. “This is nice,” he murmured, his voice low and relaxed. “Just the two of us for a bit.”

Y/N smiled softly, leaning back in her chair as she gazed out at the ocean. “It is,” she agreed. “It’s nice to just… be. No distractions, no schedules. Just us.”

Lando turned his head to look at her, his eyes filled with that familiar mix of love and admiration that always made her stomach flutter. “You know,” he said quietly, his fingers gently brushing her skin, “I don’t think I tell you enough how much I love you. How much I appreciate everything you do for Isla and me.”

Y/N’s breath caught slightly at the sincerity in his voice. She turned her head to meet his gaze, her heart swelling with emotion. “Lando…”

“No, really,” he insisted, sitting up a little. “I don’t say it enough. You’re incredible, Y/N. The way you love our daughter, the way you take care of us… You make everything feel so effortless, and I just—I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Y/N felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away, smiling softly at him. “I love you too, Lando. More than you know.”

He leaned in, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss that made her forget about everything else. In that moment, it was just the two of them, wrapped up in each other, the world fading away.

-

Later that afternoon, as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Lando, Y/N, and Isla boarded the yacht that Lando had arranged. It was a sleek, beautiful boat, and as they set off into the open water, the breeze ruffling their hair, it felt like something out of a dream.

Isla was fascinated by the gentle rocking of the boat, her little hands gripping the edge of the railing as she watched the water with wide eyes. Lando stood behind her, his hands on either side of hers, keeping her steady while whispering little words of encouragement. “Look at that, baby girl. Isn’t it amazing? Just like flying, huh?”

Y/N watched them from her seat, her heart swelling with affection for the two of them. There was something so undeniably sweet about seeing Lando with Isla. He was a natural father, always knowing how to make her smile, always there to comfort her when she was upset.

As the yacht sailed further out, Lando eventually scooped Isla up and carried her back to Y/N, sitting down next to her and cuddling Isla between them. The three of them sat together, watching the sun slowly sink into the horizon, casting a golden-orange glow over the water.

“This is perfect,” Y/N whispered, resting her head on Lando’s shoulder as she cradled Isla in her arms. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.”

Lando smiled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Me either,” he murmured. “This… this is everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Y/N glanced up at him, her heart swelling at the love in his eyes. “You mean that?”

He looked down at her, his expression serious but filled with so much warmth. “I do. You and Isla… you’re my world, Y/N. Everything I do, it’s for you two. And I’ll never stop loving you, not for a second.”

Her breath caught at his words, and she leaned up to kiss him, slow and sweet.

The kiss lingered, sweet and unhurried, the weight of Lando’s words settling between them like the most beautiful promise. When they finally pulled apart, Y/N rested her forehead against his, their breaths mingling as the world seemed to pause for just a moment. Isla, nestled between them, was quietly playing with Lando’s fingers, completely content in the embrace of her parents.

“I love you, too,” Y/N whispered, her voice full of emotion. “More than I could ever put into words.”

Lando smiled, his thumb gently brushing her cheek. “I know, love,” he murmured. “I feel it every single day.”

They sat there for a long while, the boat gently swaying with the rhythm of the sea, as the last rays of sunlight danced on the horizon. Isla eventually dozed off in Y/N’s arms, her tiny body relaxing completely, the soft rise and fall of her chest the only sound breaking the peaceful silence.

Lando looked down at his daughter, his heart nearly bursting at the sight. He reached out to lightly stroke her hair, his touch so gentle it was almost reverent. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?” he said quietly, his voice filled with awe. “How did we get so lucky?”

Y/N smiled down at Isla, her heart swelling with love for the little girl in her arms. “We did get lucky,” she agreed softly. “She’s everything.”

Lando’s gaze shifted from Isla to Y/N, his expression softening even further. “You’re everything to me, you know that, right?”

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. “I think you’ve told me that about a hundred times today.”

“Well, I mean it. Every time,” he teased, leaning in to kiss her again. “You’re stuck with me, Norris, so I’m gonna remind you as often as I can.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Y/N whispered against his lips before kissing him back.

As the sun finally disappeared beyond the horizon, the sky fading into a soft twilight, they decided to head back to the villa. Lando took Isla from Y/N’s arms, cradling their sleeping daughter as they made their way back to the dock. The boat ride back was quiet, peaceful, the gentle hum of the engine and the lapping of the water lulling them into a contented silence.

-

When they reached the villa, Lando carefully carried Isla to her room, tucking her into bed with the same care and tenderness he always showed. Y/N stood in the doorway, watching him with a soft smile on her face, her heart full as she took in the sight of Lando, who had once been the carefree, fast-driving boy, now a devoted father and partner.

Lando pressed a soft kiss to Isla’s forehead before pulling the blanket up around her tiny body. He stood for a moment, just watching her sleep, his heart filled with a deep sense of contentment. Finally, he turned to Y/N, slipping his hand into hers as they quietly left the room, closing the door behind them.

Once back in their bedroom, Y/N flopped onto the bed with a happy sigh, stretching her arms above her head. Lando followed, lying down beside her and propping himself up on one elbow to look at her. “So,” he said, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “What’s the verdict? Best day ever?”

Y/N turned her head to look at him, her eyes sparkling with love and amusement. “I’d say it’s definitely up there,” she teased. “But tomorrow might just top it.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what do you have planned for tomorrow?”

Y/N shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Lando leaned down, his lips brushing hers as he whispered, “Whatever it is, as long as I’m with you and Isla, it’s already perfect.”

Their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss, full of the love and promise they’d built over the years. When they finally pulled apart, Y/N curled into Lando’s side, her head resting on his chest as his arm wrapped around her, holding her close.

“Thank you for today,” Y/N murmured, her eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. “It was perfect.”

Lando kissed the top of her head, his fingers gently running through her hair. “You don’t have to thank me, love. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat. For you and Isla, I’d do anything.”

With that, they fell into a comfortable silence, the sound of the waves outside their window lulling them to sleep. As Lando drifted off, his heart full and his arms wrapped around the woman he loved, he couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man in the world.

And as the stars twinkled above, casting their soft light over the peaceful villa, one thing was certain: this summer, this moment, would be one they’d cherish forever.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know! I’m currently writing part three of baking cookies! I hope to finish it soon and upload it soon!

[iamgonnagetyouback]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀────۶ৎ cuddles

synopsis: mattheo looks unfairly soft in the morning, all messy curls and slow breaths, and you can’t help but stare. the moment is perfect—until theo rips open the curtains, groaning about how much he hates couples content warnings: excessive fluff, mattheo being ridiculously soft, and an overall high risk of tooth-rotting sweetness. proceed with caution author's note: kinda part 2 for this ￫ ⟢

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 545

The soft glow of dawn filtered through the heavy curtains of the Slytherin dormitory, the faint light painting the room in hues of gold and grey. The quiet hum of the early morning surrounded you, and your eyes fluttered open, instantly drawn to the figure lying next to you.

Mattheo Riddle.

His dark curls spilled messily over the pillow, a few strands brushing against his forehead. His lips were slightly parted, his chest rising and falling in an even rhythm. You couldn’t help but study him, your gaze tracing the curve of his jaw, the faint freckles scattered across his nose, and the softness in his expression when he wasn’t wearing his usual smirk.

He looked so peaceful, so unlike the sharp-witted, often sarcastic boy who loved teasing you. Your hand itched to brush away the stray curls, but you didn’t dare move, not wanting to disturb this rare moment of calm.

As if on cue, Mattheo shifted slightly, his brows furrowing as if he could feel your gaze. His lashes fluttered before his eyes opened, hazy with sleep, and he blinked a few times before focusing on you. A lazy, lopsided grin spread across his face.

“Morning,” you murmured softly, your voice still tinged with sleep.

Mattheo’s grin widened as he groggily replied, his voice gravelly, “You know, it’s nice that your voice was the first thing I heard today.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, warm and quiet, as you leaned forward, burying your face into his chest to hide the sudden rush of affection flooding through you. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, pulling you closer as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Do you practice being this charming, or does it come naturally?” you teased, your voice muffled against his chest.

Mattheo chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through you. “Both. I’ve got to keep you around somehow, don’t I?”

You smiled, your heart feeling far too full for this early in the morning. The quiet moment was perfect, the world outside forgotten as you stayed wrapped in his arms, soaking in his warmth.

The peace didn’t last long.

The curtains of Mattheo’s bed were flung open, and Theodore Nott stood there, glaring at the two of you with a look of utter exasperation.

“For Merlin’s sake,” Theo groaned, shielding his eyes with a hand. “It’s not even breakfast, and you two are already sickening.”

“Morning to you too, sunshine,” Mattheo drawled, not bothering to hide the smirk on his face.

“Disgusting,” Theo muttered, running a hand through his hair as he stepped back. “Couples should be outlawed. You’re both revolting. I hope your breakfast is burnt.”

Mattheo chuckled, his lips twitching into a smirk as he tightened his hold on you. “Jealous, Theo?”

“Of you?” Theo shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’d rather kiss the Whomping Willow.”

You couldn’t help it; a laugh escaped you as Mattheo grinned, clearly pleased with Theo’s annoyance.

As the curtains swung shut, muffling his footsteps, you and Mattheo burst into laughter.

“Poor Theo,” you managed between giggles.

Mattheo shrugged, his fingers trailing up and down your back lazily. “He’s just mad no one wants to cuddle him.”

You laughed again, feeling lighter than ever. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

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