#i moved him into the sun for now to warm up

[lustlovehart]

OH MY GOSH RIDDLE??? He is ACTUALLY a pretty princess now omg. And tangled?? Me and Riddle are the same person fr 🤞🤞

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEE imagine being the Eugene to Riddles Rapunzel. (With a few creative liberties <3)

Cw: Rapunzel Riddle, Mother Gothel Ms.Rosehearts, A blade is held to your throat, Threatens of Beheading, You both get really close, Low key just cheesy stuff, Riddle deep in his mothers control and you’re the one who breaks it <33

The moment you set foot into his tower shelves upon shelves of books surround the room, all of which seem pertained to studies that you simply could not care in the least about. A vast majority of them are related to medical while a smaller portion is other educational subjects like Math and English.

It has no matter to you though, all you need is shelter before the guards inevitably catch your thievery. Originally, you believed this place to just be an abandoned library, but the closer you look at it… Fresh tea and a warm plate filled with food that looks plain yet nutritional tells you a different story. Especially how organized and tided the room is, and… The long cascade of red hair that has circled around the room.

You don’t have the chance to fly out the window before someone holds you in place, a blade to your throat.

“Mother said the most important rule is to not let anyone inside.” You don’t turn around to look at your captor, only tightening the grip on your bag.

“Is her rule more important than the law? I hope not—“ before you know it he pulls you to the floor, his long hair tangling into your legs. You finally see his face in all its glory, the sun hugging his skin. He looks… Familiar.

“Yet you’re trespassing. If you really cared for the law you wouldn’t be here!” The blade is closer to your neck, his fingers grazing your skin. He opens his mouth to say more truth, his eyes shifting over to your bag. In turn you catch his gaze when he reaches over.

“Ah ah—! Hey that’s mine you recluse—!” You stretch over to grab your rightful steal before he can, but you’re too late.

“… What’s inside?” It’s a book no doubt, he can tell from the indent of the object through the fabric.

“You don’t talk to anyone but your mommy do you? I’m not telling someone who just tried beheading me!” For a moment his face goes red, expression shifting to anger, ready to yell every rule you’ve broken so far. His rage subsides when he notices the way your freed hand grips his hair.

No one else has touched it but his mother.

When you notice the natural progression of his emotions, you lean into him, your faces a few inches apart. It takes a moment before he realizes how close you are, his body falling back in shock. He buries the book into his body, looking up as your body pins him from above. It’s weirdly a pretty sight, the strands of his crimson hair highlighting your features as it webs your body like webs. He winders what kind of person you are.

“Do you wanna leave?” The words don’t fully process, as if he has never even considered the thought. He doesn’t reply, furrowing his eyebrows in suspicion. He really shouldn’t trust you, not at all, yet your smile seems so genuine he can’t help but feel his worry dissipate at your face. You lower your body down, your chin placing itself on the book, the only obstacle blocking you both from practically embracing each-other. “I’ll help you out, and you can give me the book back.”

He shouldn’t believe you, but the moment you smiled at him, he can’t help but put his belief in you.

“… Riddle.” He leans back up, his hair following him, which only further traps you in himself, but you don’t seem to mind for some reason. Your finger twirls his hair, your hand grabbing onto his.

“Let’s go then, Riddle.” Little does he know, the familarity you felt has been realized.

This Riddle, is your childhood crush who suddenly moved away.

[lucygraysboy]

“my ma had once attempted to teach me when i was little, but i was too rambunctious to be able to focus on knitting for more than fifteen minutes. promise i’m a lot more patient now,” the cowboy laughs, pale blue eyes taking in the look on lucy gray’s face, hypnotized. these doe-like hues will be the death of him. all the kindness that’s buried deep inside her chest seems to be shining right through, making him feel so mushy and warm on the inside. she truly deserves the world, and he’ll do everything in his power to give it to her. “speakin’ of songs… was you singin’ a song when i first saw you? i was so exhausted and dehydrated, it’s all so blurry now but i thought i was at the gates of heaven and an angel was welcomin’ me with a song. what were you singin’ ‘bout?” he wonders out loud, just now reminded of the moment he first laid eyes on her. he was so out of it, and now he can barely tell what really happened and what’s only a figment of his imagination. “thanks for thinkin’ so. i didn’t want ‘im to be no outlaw. i wanted ‘im to have an honest job an’ a good life.” but now that joe’s gone, billy can’t help but wonder if maybe he was a little too hard on the boy, expected too much of him. “always. well, except for the time i went and beat up her husband ‘cause he kept makin’ her cry, bringin’ no money home, stealin’ hers… spendin’ it all in brothels and saloons. she told me to leave ‘im be, but i couldn’t.” his pride and honor and the love he had for her wouldn’t let him. 

“yeah? good ‘cause i would never.” boss her around. he thinks that’s how it should be — men should listen to women more often, they’d benefit from that. “i’m mr. sugar bucket sweet potato, and you’re miss birdie boo little carrot,” he laughs, not caring the names make little to no sense. it’s the thought and affection that counts. “i mean, i kind of understand. if i was a goat, i wouldn’t let no strange cowboy near my udders either. i’d kick ‘im in the head.” expression softening as she touches his cheek, his heart melting into a puddle, making it difficult for him to focus on anything but the way her hand feels so nice and somehow soothes the sunburn on his skin. “i’m hungry, too. it’s ‘cause of that lake. water always makes you hungry, is what i’ve noticed.” he follows her back outside, where the last rays of the setting sun have painted the porch a warm, golden hue. it’s a little more humid now, but the wind remains pleasant, lacking its bite. he lays the potatoes down on the table and takes a seat opposite to her, just so that he can admire her beautiful features in this light. if he only could paint, he’d paint her like this. “this is real nice. this table, i mean. beautiful carpentry.” he praises, but what he actually means is this, the two of them doing something so mundane together after a long, fun day, is nice. he wouldn’t mind spending every afternoon for the rest of his life doing this. “i don’t know if i’ve ever told you this, but i’m a very experienced potato-peeler. it was always my job to peel ‘em when i was little,” he brags with a smile, his hands, rough and calloused moving with practiced ease, as if peeling potatoes was as natural as roping a steer to him. 

"that's exactly why i was thinkin' it'd be good to teach you." he already read her mind, she was thinking it could be useful when he sets out on his own. a shy smile spills over kind visage at being called sweet, of course she remembered. and of course each time he says another sweet thing, it flushes her in a warm sensation of love. fills that void and all the hurt that being talked down to by the preacher that has carved a hole in her chest with, a little at each time. "course i think so. poem's are beautiful. poem's are a lot like songs... and i do love writin' songs." speaking fondly, smiling affectionately. "well, for some reason i think that's cute," lucy gray laughs, the part about bossing his brother around because he wanted to take good care of him. "and at least you listened to your mother." so safe to say, she finds that cute too. putting a cute grin on her face because it's adorable he was stubborn but still so respectful to his mama. "i'm just playin' with you, billy. i don't think you would." a gentle expression softens her features as she peers up at him, after handing him his armful of vegetables. "you're a sweet potato." since they're holding potatoes, small laugh emitting.

hand reaches up to gently pat his cheek, he's so cute, he's gotta stop being that cute in personality and his eyes are too big and pure for her heart to handle. "it's best i do that, anyway. she really is picky with that. she might really try to bite you if you grab on her udders." the brunette laughs, but genuinely feels bad for shamus for being scarred by men. "i'm hungry." amusingly replying, scooping out an armful of carrots next before shutting the lid back. "alright, let's go." grabbing a pan, she leads them back out of the house and off the porch and climbs onto the picnic table's seat before dumping her vegetables on the table top and sitting the pan down. she's got a knife sitting in the middle, she goes ahead and grabs that and starts cutting.

[cuntdestroyer3000]

Heart Shaped Box

dividers by @chilumitos

Jackson Joel x f!reader

Sorta sub Joel, he just wants to pleasure you, he is very demure, yay smut, f receiving oral, fluff, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n. ~1.4k words. I wrote this with game Joel in mind but feel free to imagine Pedro🤎

The light in the room is warm and dim as you lay in Joel’s arms. The sun has set and it’s finally just the two of you. You had never thought that you would ever have such quiet, peaceful moments like this.

He holds you so close. He kisses you gently at first, then deepens it; his large hand cradling the back of your head.

You whimper as he slips his tongue into your mouth and that only spurs him on further. He begins to shift slowly so that you’re beneath him; his large form crowding you comfortably and his big arms holding you tight. He never lets you go, his calloused palms constantly roaming over your body, squeezing the soft parts of you.

The low, gruff moans that escape him as he kisses you go straight to your pussy. You feel yourself getting wet for him immediately.

Joel makes his way down your neck, kissing and biting softly. You spread your legs so that he can settle between them.

“Mmmm” he moans as you grind on him through his jeans. His cock is getting harder by the second and you smirk because you know exactly what he wants to do.

He slowly starts to unzip your pants, looking up at you, a hint of desperation in his brown eyes.

“Can I? Please?” He asks in that deep voice, the voice that turns you on just hearing it.

Your smirk grows wider.

“Can you please, what?” You ask.

It sends a thrill through you to see Joel Miller, so strong and commanding; a man who some people feared, begging to please you.

He smiles somewhat sheepishly, his eyes casting down for a second.

His shyness only fuels your desire, making you want him even more. You love it when he gets bashful. He'd been so brooding and quiet when you'd first met him, you never would have expected him to be so sweet, so giving.

He leans closer to you and kisses you again.

“Can I taste you? Please?” He adds.

You giggle,

"Of course you can!" You tease and he smiles, burying his face in your neck and kissing you. You squeal at how the scruff on his face tickles you.

"Mmm, you like makin' me ask for it, don't you?" He rasps in your ear. You shudder as his breath hits you.

“Maybe I do.” Your soft laugh turns into a moan as he trails his mouth down your body, moving your shirt up and kissing your stomach. He moves up briefly to pull your shirt off of you and you shift to unclasp your bra, taking it off and throwing it to the side. Joel moves back up over your body.

“Fuck…” he breathes as he looks down at you.

He lets out a ragged inhale and squeezes your breasts with both hands. You moan and let your head fall back, arching your back as his rough hands massage you. He rubs and pinches your nipples gently, leaning down to suck on them, swirling his tongue around each one and biting them ever so slightly.

He finally tears himself away. Your tits are mesmerizing, but there was only one thing he wanted right now. One thing he needed to do.

He pulls your pants and underwear down, leaving you completely bare for him. You give him a soft smile which he returns with a gentle stroke down the side of your face, the rough pad of his thumb grazing your cheekbone.

“My sweet girl” He murmurs as he slowly makes his way down between your legs, kissing down your body.

When he reaches your mound he presses his nose against your pussy, inhaling deeply.

“Mmmm” he moans huskily and dips his tongue into the pool of your arousal. He breathes heavily for a moment before starting again.

He licks you lightly, his tongue trailing up between your lips before softly flicking your clit.

“Mmm Joel” you whine out, “don’t tease me…please.”

The sound of your begging makes his cock even harder in his jeans.

“Sorry sweetheart.” His voice is low and rough, gravelly, barely more than a whisper.

Then he swirls his tongue around your clit and begins really working it, sucking it into his mouth, doing whatever kind of magic he works when he’s down there.

You moan and arch your back, grinding your hips into his face.

He clutches your upper thighs in his large hands, keeping his face pressed against your cunt no matter how much you squirm.

“Oh my god.” He moans against you as he thrusts his tongue inside your tight little hole, “Tastes so fucking good baby.” He manages to get the words out in between the obscene slurping noises.

“Does it really?” You ask breathily, smiling coyly as heat rises to your cheeks.

“Yeah.” He says softly, pulling away a little bit.

When your eyes meet he looks down, smiling a little as blush creeps up to his face.

“Yeah?” You press, his shyness making you crazy.

“Yeah,” he says again, tracing patterns on your inner thigh, still blushing, “I’ve been thinkin’ about-“

“Look at me Joel.” You order him suddenly and he looks up quickly, his brown eyes filled with adoration and looking so sweet and desperate.

“What have you been thinking about?” You ask sweetly, loving how he’s being right now; how you’re almost in control of him at this moment.

“I’ve been thinking about havin’ my mouth on you.”

“Hmm…” you feel yourself smiling deviously, “And where did you want your mouth?”

His eyes widen slightly and he smiles, laughing a little as he looks down quickly.

His gaze locks on yours again and he leans closer to your cunt.

“Right here.” He breathes and kisses your clit softly. The masculine rumble of his voice makes you clench around his tongue as he thrusts it into you.

You gasp and grip the sheets, your hips lifting off the bed again.

“Joel!” You moan his name, a high pitched, broken sound; so sweet and precious it makes his head spin.

He eats your pussy desperately, moaning into you, whimpering into you. You sit up a little and catch a glimpse of him grinding his hips into the bed. It’s so hot and pathetic you almost come right then and there.

You can feel it starting to build up in you as he moves his tongue over your clit expertly. He spreads your legs even further until you’re spread open completely for him.

You reach down and run your fingers through his soft hair, massaging his scalp with your fingertips.

He moans softly against your cunt. You tilt your hips, letting him lick the most intimate parts of you.

He switches up, licking quickly and then sucking your clit; his eyes closed and his brow furrowed, getting lost between your thighs.

You’re getting closer, your legs are starting to shake and you have to clap a hand over your mouth to avoid letting out a very loud moan.

“Fuck baby, give it to me.” He grits out against you. His mouth draws your orgasm out of you and you stifle your moans as much as you can but you’re still shaking and gasping, quivering as your release soaks Joel’s beard.

Bolts of pleasure shoot through you as you writhe against his face.

Joel just smiles against you at the sight of you coming undone. Your release tastes so good, almost pouring into his mouth and he drinks it down greedily. He feasts upon you as you come for him, running a hand over your stomach and up to squeeze one of your breasts.

He keeps going even after you come down, causing you to twitch from the overstimulation.

“Joel,” You whimper, “I-I can’t anymore.”

“Just a little more.” He whispers as you try to move away, pulling you back against his mouth,

“Just a little more, please baby.” He sighs before licking your clit lightly, his eyes closing in contentment.

His pleading is undeniably sexy and you find that you don’t mind the gentle stroke of his tongue on your sensitive pussy.

“Mmmm fine.” You smile down at him, “But just for a little bit. I want you inside me.”

“Anything you want, baby.” He smirks.

Anything to hear you moan like that for him again. His cock is straining against his pants and it isn’t long before he’s freed himself from their confines; his naked body pressed against yours.

Holding you tight in his arms, he sinks his thick length into you, getting lost in you once again.

Thank u for reading <3 please use tags if you reblog

[bunny-jpeg]

wife

kimi raikkonen

tags: smut/pwp, skiing, wife!reader, age gap (20s/40s), breeding kink, winter fic, established relationship, missionary, dirty talk & praise

mark webber ver. - sebastian vettel ver. - jenson button ver.

"it's cold!" you shivered as you got back inside, you had spent most of the day out on the slopes with your husband, kimi. he had been more than happy to show you how to navigate skis despite your slight nervousness around it.

it felt nice being under the glow of your lover, even when you stumbled. even though you didn't trip in the snow, but rather your own boots when you had a break at the chalet, "you've become too good at skiing, you have forgotten how to walk!" he then wrapped his arms around you.

and now back at your hotel room, your older husband wanted to get out out of that heavy jacket you were wearing. the jacket that he bought for you. he felt something shudder in him when you got the jacket off of you. he nearly tripped over himself. you were beautiful.

you looked over your shoulder before you draped your jacket over your arm, "kim-kim, you're so good at skiing you forgot how to walk!" your tone was cheeky and kimi almost tripped over himself once more as he tried to get to you. he wrapped his arms around and rested his chin on your shoulder. he hand your middle tightly. he kissed the roundness of your cheek, "funny, funny, little hare." that was what he called you in the winter. you were cute like a little arctic hare, all bundled up for the snow.

but now kimi wanted your ski clothes off of you and onto the floor. and while he stripped you of your clothes, you did the same to him. you gave his biceps a good squeeze and you licked your lips. even got a good feel of his chest under his thick grey sweater.

"are you warm enough, my little hare?" he asked before his bare hands went up your t-shirt, "does it feel good?"

you moaned a little as he pinched your nipple through your bra. you nodded, "always perfect, kimi. despite you being to icy, you're hotter than the sun."

he cupped your breasts under your shirt, "how could i not be? you pull me in, my beautiful wife." he then laughed when you ehlped him out of his sweater then t-shirt. he could feel your hungry gaze on him.

mrs. raikkonen loved the sight of her husband.

a weekend away was a good idea. kimi wanted you, recently something had been itching at his brain. and this weekend had only fueled it more. kimi wanted to start a family, you were in your twenties and he was closer to fifty than thirty, so it felt like it was time.

and the first step for kimi was to strip you. expose your beautiful body to him. gray light streamed through the large windows of the hotel room as cloud draw across the sky. kimi kissed your neck sweetly and eventually your collarbones when he got your t-shirt off of your body. he exhaled deeply and rubbed into your warm skin.

"my little hare, my dear." he groaned. he only moved away to finish getting his clothes off. you both were finally nude and in bed. he had you pressed against the covers. you looked like a cute bunny in the sea of white sheets.

kimi's cock was achy, the tip was glossy with pre-cum. it didn't hurt the hurt the feeling when a thought crossed his mind. cuddled up in the chalet with a loose sweater on your body. but, could still see the outline of your baby bump. kimi beside you with a hand on your middle. smitten like the day he married you. he stroked his cock as he eyed you, admiring your beauty. your nude body on a alluring display for him.

"you look beautiful." he said softly, "how did i get so luck? the most beautiful woman under me."

you shifted under him from his intense gaze on you. you were both hungry for one another. the iceman and his little hare, a perfect match.

"you know i think you're beautiful." he said softly as he stroked his cock faster, "beautiful, beautiful." he couldn't take it anymore, he needed you.

you shuddered as he soon grabbed your thighs and hiked your his upwards. he got a pillow under your behind to give him a little extra height to access your pretty little cunt. give him the perfect angle to fuck you with.

"my wife." he said as he slowly sank into you. your cunt fluttered around his cock as he got his entire length into you. he cursed under his breath and shakily exhaled. you moaned and held onto his shoulders when he got closer enough to you. he said softly, "my little obsession."

the pace was steady, but not particularly fast. kimi was never a fast lover, he moved to savour every moment with you. he wanted to feel every inch of heated skin. see the rise and fall of your chest, the expressions that crossed your face when pleasure hit you just right. kimi strived to make his wife feel good.

"you look so beautiful under me. i remember when i first met you, such a cute little assistant. but you're much more suited to being my wife. you let me spoil you, and you spoil me." he continued to move against you.

your pulse leapt from the pleasurable feeling. you clung to him as he pressed into you further, the movements were steady as you tightened your legs around his waist.

kimi wanted a baby with you, that had been on his mind. to grow your little family, seeing you taking care of his child only made him want to get you pregnant faster. maybe he could make you have twins.

that notion made him even more excited.

he moved against you faster. his pace still had a lot of power behind it, and it remained steady. there was a force behind them and a fierceness that made your heart race. he thought you were perfect. of course you were, he wouldn't have been ring shopping after three months of dating if you weren't perfect. he eyed your face for a moment as he pressed his chest against yours.

"i love you."

"and i love you."

quite a pair you were, and it fueled your love. you understood one another. you and kimi were a lovely pair, a type of love that ran deep.

"i want you to have my children. you'd be such a good mother. raise them well." he groaned, your bodies moved together as kimi continued to speak, you leg-locked him, "you'd be glowing, a proud mother to all of them. if we have one child or seven." he chuckled, "we'll raise them perfect. future little racers, with your beauty of course." his words were hot in your mind

it fueled the inferno in his core as his cock hit against your sweet spots with heavy thrusts. your nails held onto him, leaving small tracks across his shoulders. you let out sweet noises, the pleasure built up inside of you.

he knew exactly how to make you squirm. how to make you moan. your noises grew as the two of them fucked on the hotel bed. the feeling was beautiful, he still enjoyed the feeling of you against him. he loved how it felt, he swore under his breath at the feeling. the force of his thrusts made your pussy clench around him. his groans were paired with your sweet moans.

"my little hare, beautiful in bed, quick in the snow, and perfect under me." he hissed through his teeth as the thrusts continued. he scratched his short nails up your thighs which made your nipples hard.

kimi craned his neck down to lick your hard nipples. he gave them both attention, he groaned as the pleasure continued to course through him. a growing heat between the two of you. he loved you, adored you. he held onto you tighter and rocked his hips against you. the euphoria rolled in his head, fire in his body as he continued to move his hips.

"fuck." you shuddered and held on tightly. toes cureld and hissed a little bit from the heat, the pleasure. more curses left your lips as the thump in your chest grew.

he pressed his forehead against yours and he whispered sweet nothings to you. rolled together in finnish and english. the praise left his lips with ease and he knew exactly how he wanted you. to be with you for the rest of his days.

you two moved against one another, the noises were loud and passionate. the heated curses and you held onto him tightly. you almost bit him on the should when you climaxed around his cock. kimi didn't last much longer. the two of you kissed deeply when he came.

he finished inside of you and he said a quiet prayer that you'd have a child with him by next winter. the kisses continued as you both slowed to a stop. he held your face for a moment after he broke the kiss. he exhaled deeply through his nose then gave you one last quiet kiss on the cheek. a promise of a future with you.

-

"i think she's over dressed. it hasn't even started to snow yet." you remarked as you watched kimi make sure that the wool hate was on your small daughter's head.

it was the first winter since you had your daughter, amelia. and kimi wanted to make sure she was kept warm for the season. he didn't want her little head or tiny fingers and toes got chilled while you went out.

"she will be fine, hare. if anything she looks like a teddy bear." he remarked with a small chuckle before he took her in his arms. he kissed her rosy little cheek. she looked a great deal like him.

it was a running joke that she would have the same icy demeanor as her father once she started racing - if she wished to persue that - kimi was supportive of any path she wanted to take when she got older.

even with the speculation of her being an ice queen, for now she was a smiling, happy baby, all bundled up for an afternoon out. kimi leaned over to kiss you gently.

you looked to him then to your daughter. you smiled softly, "you do look like a teddy bear, don't you, amelia?" you kissed her on the face then kissed your husband once more.

the iceman, the arctic hare and their little baby. a sweet little family and the both of you couldn't have been happier <3

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Cool off in the lake

Jason x fem!reader

warning: fluff, flirting, nervous sweet Jason, kiss

summary: In summer, it was usually much too hot for sporting activities, especially in the camp, so the kids had retreated to the somewhat 'cool' huts. But Jason and his colleague had to hold the fort outside, those were the rules. She decided to just sunbathe while Jason got the offer of his life.

info: I have a few more clichés up my sleeve regarding the cute, nervous, underappreciated camp guards. I hope you enjoy ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Summer had something good about it, everything was bright and warm, the plants were blooming and, above all, there was ice cream in abundance for everyone, young and old alike, everyone liked it.

This also applied to the residents of the Summer Camp... well, at least that was the plan, to make homemade ice cream from berries and fruits.

A natural ice cream, as Jason had called it, but a glance at the twenty-year-old ice cream machine made the teenagers groan.

Holes and moldy were more the terms that described the once expensive machine, it was now nothing more than a nest for spiders and rats, but it wouldn't make ice cream.

So the idea had to be discarded and the kids were satisfied with lukewarm sliced watermelon and medium-cold water, which they took with them into the huts.

,,We'll wait outside in case you need us!” Jason had shouted, but by then they had already slammed the door in his face, leaving the two adults outside together alone.

It wasn't the first time that they had found themselves alone together out here; there were far too many days when the teenagers wanted to stay together as a group.

The two 'groups' rarely interacted, and when they did, it was only for dinner.

Which is why, especially in the last few days when the sun was particularly strong, the teenagers separated from the adults. Her gaze fell on him again, that confused, sweet expression on his face as he didn't quite know what to do.

Go inside and cool down?

Or follow the rules and just stay outside with her?

She took the question out of his hands as she disappeared towards the cabin ,,Whatever you do now, Jason, I'm going to get a towel and go for a swim!” she called to him before going up the wooden stairs to change in the cabin and get a few things.

The sun was shining down on the camp and the nearby lake, a large natural pool where, if you were lucky, you could catch a few small fish. But that wasn't why she was here.

Instead, she laid a towel on the wooden dock, put her things next to it, and took off her shorts and T-shirt to jump into the lake in her bikini.

The cool water was a welcome relief on her heated skin, letting herself glide like a starfish or pulling through the water like a frog was so much better than staying in the stuffy hut, the fans were just like everything else here and all that would happen is hot air.

She didn't see the person she had been watching for minutes, didn't see Jason walking along the meadow and the dock, watching her every swim and drift on the water.

How he tried not to look too obviously at her breasts or ass whenever she let herself drift or turned around, the light material of the fabric hiding her most intimate parts, and yet she was the most beautiful mermaid he had ever seen.

Not wanting to come across as a creepy horror movie character, he approached the dock a little closer and sat down next to her things. He tried to close his eyes and enjoy the sun, but his light eyes kept going back to her until she said, ,,Jason! So you took the right path,” and came back to the dock.

A few little moves of the cute frog until she came to him on the footbridge and sat down next to him, put her body on the towel and dried herself a little with it, ,,Yes-Yes, it seems so,” he replied, looking over the lake, into the distorted reflection, and saw her.

It was like being in a hall of mirrors where you saw everything about yourself, but not the real you, because you seemed to lose yourself in it too much.

The rustling of the towel drying and the soft sound of the drops dripping onto the wooden walkway was almost mechanical. ,,So quiet today? Hmmm, no lecture about insects or camp rules?” her question sounded almost disappointed as she lay down on the towel and enjoyed the sun a little.

Jason saw how the sun almost made the water droplets on her hat glisten, pretty, peaceful and definitely soft and warm. He was sure that she was warm and soft too; someone nice and pretty just had to be.

She was always too cheerful, didn't treat him like a weird settler like almost everyone else, and she had a good connection with the teenagers.

The minutes passed by but soon he saw her move again and reach into the small bag for the sunscreen. The tube showed orange and sun, not quite the picture she had here, but enough,

,,Jason darling... would you put sun cream on my back, please?” she asked, holding out the bottle to him.

A question that almost made him choke on his own spit, his hands on her, he would touch her, hold her and, above all, feel her.

The question was such a simple request, but his heart beat much too fast for it, ,,Sure! Sure, I'd love to... I'll do it,” he said hastily and much too loudly as he took the bottle and saw her unfasten the string of her bikini and lie back on the towel.

She closed her eyes and waited for him to touch her.

The click of the opening cap seemed like a bang, he tried to let the cool white cream flow into his hands, concentrating on her and not on his thoughts.

Thoughts that invaded his fantasies, fantasies that haunted him in his sleep or when daydreaming. ,,I-I'm starting,” he forced out, his throat much too dry and he almost flinched when she merely sighed a satisfied sound as his hands touched her back.

He suppressed a joyful thrill when he realized how soft and warm she was, how easily he could glide over her skin with the cream providing some relief.

He pampered the skin and the muscles underneath with a much-needed massage to better distribute the cream.

He thought he felt her heartbeat, calm and happy whenever he ran his hands over her shoulders, his cheeks burning as he ran further down and lightly touched her hip, only to quickly move back up again.

The thought of simply grabbing her like that was clear, but this 'dominance' was always transformed into his own submission.

He was not one of those soccer or sports fanatics who knew what they were doing; he was a nervous, friendly young man whose interests were perhaps a little unusual, but his love and lust were as normal as anyone else's.

But she, she seemed like a goddess he would have done anything to touch her and now he did it, massaged her and received a few gentle, pleasant sounds... a dream come true.

A dream that lasted only a few minutes but a dream he would store forever, or at least until tonight when he disappeared into the shower alone to get relief.

But all good things come to an end and when he had covered her entire back with cream, he said, ,,I'm done” and she uttered a moaning, ,,Thank you, Jason,” and gave him a grateful glance before dozing off again, seemingly at peace.

He would have stayed with her if he hadn't felt a slight twinge in his groin and didn't even have to look down to see what was happening to the bulge in his trousers.

More panicked than aroused, he fumbled around a bit nervously before just shouting, ,,I'm cooling down!” and jumping into the lake with his clothes on, the last thing he wanted was for her to think of him as a creepy loser just because he had touched a woman.

But when the water surrounded him, pleasantly cooling him, he didn't see the knowing smile that appeared on her lips as she looked at the merman, hoping that he would also let her get close to him.

The sun always had something good to offer, besides warmth and beauty, it especially brought people together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@imyprice , @alonsotrick , @xxxibgdrgons , @yearsbecomingcool , @starry-night-lover1 , @bruhlpng , @simonsrealwife , @myromanempire81

[alwayssassydreamer]

Sweat, Love, Awkward Timing

Plot: you and beckman are in a relationship for a few weeks now and the heat of the day isn’t the only thing that's making you sweat. Unfortunately shanks has a bad timing and loves sharing his "discoveries"

A/N: sorry for the abrupt ending, not proofread, oh and i know he's not wearing buttoned shirts but in this story he is because i say so

Warnings: nsfw, sex though it's more implied, sexual tension, embarrassed reader, use of y/n, MDNI

Characters: Beckman x F!Reader, Shanks

It was a hot day as you stood on the deck of the Red Force. Looking around you saw Beckman sitting on the deck newspaper in hand and walked over to him and without a warning sat in his lap straddling and facing him.

Beckman didn't react immediately, his gaze still focused on the newspaper as you settled yourself in his lap. You could feel his body beneath you, solid and steady. Your fingers began to undo the buttons of his shirt, the fabric parting with each motion as you tried to maintain an air of casualness.

Inside, though, you were eager to see him, to admire the muscles you knew were hidden beneath the fabric. The heat of the day was a convenient excuse, but in reality, you wanted more than just to help him cool off.

When the last button came undone and his shirt opened, you let your hands linger on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin. Beckman finally placed the newspaper down and glanced down at you, the corners of his mouth lifting in a slight smirk. His eyes held something sharp and amused, but there was also a hint of possessiveness beneath the surface.

"You know, you could've just asked," he murmured, his voice low and steady.

He let his hands rest on your hips, not moving them, just enough to remind you that he was very aware of your proximity. You met his gaze, your fingers still tracing the lines of his chest, your touch deliberate but teasing.

"Where's the fun in asking?" you replied with a sly grin, your voice dripping with playful challenge. "It’s too hot out here anyway, might as well help you cool off."

He chuckled, his hand sliding up to the back of your neck, pulling you in just a little closer.

"Always pushing boundaries, huh?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear before he pulled back slightly, his gaze growing more intense. "You’re not exactly subtle, you know."

His eyes roamed over you for a moment, and you could see the familiar spark of desire flicker in them.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Beckman's hands on your waist tightened just a bit, holding you securely in place.

"Careful," he warned, voice barely above a whisper, "if you keep this up, it won’t just be the weather that’s heating things up."

You could feel your heart race, the tension between you both thickening as his words hung in the air. But you didn’t shy away. Instead, you leaned forward slightly, resting your forehead against his, your breath mixing with his.

"What are you going to do about it?" you whispered back, your voice teasing but with an edge of vulnerability beneath it.

Beckman’s lips curved into a knowing smile, his fingers slipping under your shirt and lightly grazing the bare skin of your sides.

"I think I’ll let you find out," he replied, his voice deep and rich with promise.

The air between you two was thick with unspoken words, a quiet understanding of what you both wanted, of what was inevitably coming next. The heat of the sun, the warmth of his skin, and the tension in the air made everything feel even more electric.

Beckman’s fingers moved lower gently tracing the outline of your waist as he looked into your eyes, the intensity of the moment palpable between you. His lips were mere inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin as the temperature rose and the weight of the moment settled over both of you.

You could feel his heartbeat beneath your touch, steady and strong. His gaze, as usual, was unwavering.

You let your hands trail from his chest, resting on his shoulders, your fingers grazing the muscles beneath his skin. There was no denying it now. You were both drawn to each other, something stronger than simple attraction between you.

It was a connection that had grown over time — with the teasing, the challenges, and the quiet moments where only the two of you existed in your own little world.

As your lips hovered so close to his, you could feel the slight pull of anticipation in the air. You didn’t need to speak; everything was clear in the way he held you, the way your body seemed to naturally lean into his, drawn by something primal. The tension was thick, thick enough to suffocate you, but you couldn’t tear yourself away from it, not that you wanted to.

But before either of you could close the distance, a voice broke the spell, loud and far too cheerful.

“Well, well, well,” Shanks called out from a distance, a grin plastered on his face as he made his way toward you both. “Don’t mind me. Just wanted to see how things were going on this fine, hot day!”

Beckman sighed and leaned back, his expression darkening with a touch of annoyance, but he kept his hand resting on your waist, as if to reassure you that nothing had been interrupted. The smirk on his face was all too familiar, though, as he glanced briefly at you before raising an eyebrow toward Shanks.

“Seriously?” Beckman muttered, exhaling a long, annoyed breath.

Shanks gave a theatrical shrug, completely unfazed by the situation. “Hey, you two lovebirds were acting like I wasn’t even here,” he said, still grinning. “Thought I’d give you a little… reminder of reality. But don’t worry, I won’t be sticking around too long.”

You groaned inwardly, wanting nothing more than to stay in the moment, but the intrusion was inevitable. Shanks had a way of appearing exactly when he was least welcome, and it was clear he wasn’t going to leave until he had his fun.

Still, Beckman didn’t pull away. His hand lingered on your waist, and he glanced over at Shanks, his lips forming a thin line.

“Get lost, Shanks,” he said, his voice laced with barely controlled irritation. Shanks just chuckled and raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” he teased. “But don’t think I won’t be watching,” he added with a wink before strolling off, no doubt eager to share what he had seen with the rest of the crew.

As the noise faded and you were left alone with Beckman once again, you leaned back into him, taking in the moment before it slipped away. You could feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, the lingering pressure of his hand on your waist, and the shared understanding that you had both been edging closer to this point.

“You don’t give up that easy, do you?” Beckman murmured, his voice a low, rumbling tone that sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers lightly traced the edge of your shirt as he pulled you just a little closer.

“You know you like it,” you shot back with a playful smile.

Beckman smirked, but there was a softness to his gaze now. “I do,” he admitted, his fingers slipping under the fabric of your shirt again, just a hint of teasing in the movement. His touch was slow, deliberate. “But you’re playing a dangerous game.”

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze with a challenging expression.

“I’ve never been one to shy away from danger,” you replied with a wicked grin.

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich, and for a moment, everything felt right. In this moment, it was just the two of you — together.

“I’m not sure you understand how dangerous I can be,” Beckman said softly, his voice dropping lower as his eyes darkened with a knowing intensity.

You leaned closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Prove it.”

With a swift movement he got up holding you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you to your shared quarters.

The intensity of your connection was undeniable. The heat of the day only added to the fervor between you, the air thick with both desire and the oppressive warmth.

Beckman’s movements were sharp and purposeful, and before you knew it, you found yourself in the privacy of your quarters. The door slammed shut behind him, cutting off the rest of the world, as he lay you down on the bed and crawled over you.

His lips found yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle—a kiss that was fierce, hungry, and completely without hesitation.

As his lips moved against yours, the kiss deepened, a fire igniting between you. Every part of you seemed to come alive, an overwhelming rush of emotions flooding your senses. His hands moved with purpose, his fingers tracing your skin as if memorizing every inch of you, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, not wanting even an inch of space between you.

The heat between you grew, each kiss a promise, each touch more urgent than the last. As his lips moved to your neck, his breath hot against your skin, you let out a soft gasp.

He was focused entirely on you, his eyes burning with the kind of heat that only he could give. His fingers traced down your skin, sending shivers through you as his touch ignited every inch of you.

"I want this," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, as his lips moved back to yours, claiming them with a hunger that made your heart race. You could feel his muscles tense beneath your hands as you ran them over his chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing matching your own

The space between you seemed to vanish as his lips found yours once more, and you couldn't help but respond with the same fervor, your hands roaming to his back, feeling the powerful muscles beneath your fingertips. He groaned softly into the kiss as you trailed your nails over his back, the sound sending a wave of heat through you.

"I’ve wanted this for so long," he admitted between kisses, his voice low and rough. His hand slid under the fabric of your shirt pulling or more ripping it off you, sending a jolt through you.

He smirked as he saw you wore no bra today. "Naughty little thing" he growled as you responded with a gasp as his hands found your breasts, his touch burning against you in the best way.

You couldn't help but moan, the heat pooling between your legs as you instinctively arched up toward him. You could feel his restraint, his control slipping.

You could feel his body pressing into yours, and every inch of him felt like a promise. The heat, the urgency, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered —it was intoxicating. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath hot against your lips.

"You are mine," he whispered, a declaration that sent a thrill through you.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, this time even more demanding, more intense. You met him with equal fervor, your hands pulling him closer, wanting more, needing more. You moaned into the kiss when his hand started to get rid of your pants and underwear and he teasingly traced a finger over your slit.

The world outside no longer existed, just the heat between your bodies, the way his hands moved expertly over your skin, the way his touch sent waves of pleasure crashing through you.

The air around you both thickened with anticipation, as Beckman, guided your hands to his pants, his breath heavy against your lips. As you began to unbuckle them and tug at them until he was finally freed from them.

And then he carefully pushed into you, his body moving against you, his pace slow and deliberate, you couldn’t help but give in completely to him. Making you moan and arch your back.

Every touch, every movement, every kiss, every whisper made you feel like you were drowning in him, and you didn't want it to stop. One hand gripped your hips tight enough to probably leave a bruise but you couldn’t care less. His other hand began rubbing your clit coaxing more moans from your lips. His eyes never leaving yours as he seemed to savor every second of this shared passion.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice low and rough. "Say that you belong to me."

Your heart was racing in your chest the pleasure consuming you making it hard for you to speak. But the truth was clear, undeniable. You were his, in every sense of the word.

"I belong to you," you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper and accompanied by another moan.

His eyes darkened with satisfaction at your admission, and with a low growl, he kissed you fiercely, his hands moving with purpose as he took you to the brink of madness as you craved for him

You were lost in the moment, in him, in the way he made you feel alive in a way you hadn't allowed yourself to feel before. There was a raw need for each other.

You hadn’t realized how badly you needed this, how badly you needed him, skin against skin, your bodies moving together with a hunger that matched the intensity of the sun’s rays.

The temperature inside the cabin was no better than it was outside, but it only seemed to make the moments more urgent, more heated. The sweat that glistened on both of your skins added to the atmosphere, but neither of you cared.

As your breaths grew more erratic, each movement between you seemed to ignite the spark that had been smoldering for so long. Every touch, every movement, every kiss, was a mixture of passion and longing, as if your bodies were finally catching up to what had been building for weeks. There were no words needed — the only communication between you was the rhythm of your movements, the glances exchanged, the moans of pleasure.

One final push sent you both over the edge, making you cry out his name in pleasure followed by deep, almost feral, grunts from him before he collapsed on the bed next to you. Both breathing heavily, sweating and smiling.

Later on as the evening settled in and the crew gathered around, the atmosphere was relaxed but charged with the usual playful energy. Everyone had a drink in hand, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filling the air.

You had settled into a corner, half-listening, half-enjoying the quiet peace of the moment—until Shanks couldn’t hold himself back any longer. With a mischievous gleam in his eye, he raised his glass and cleared his throat dramatically, catching everyone’s attention.

“Well, well, well,” he began, dramatically flipping through an imaginary book. “It seems I have discovered some rather interesting new chapters in the ongoing saga of Beckman and [Y/N].”

You froze, feeling a rush of heat flood your face. You had no idea where this was going, but you could already feel the blood rushing to your cheeks as you locked eyes with Beckman, who sat beside you. His normally stoic expression was more relaxed, but you could tell he wasn’t exactly thrilled by Shanks' antics.

Shanks continued, his voice growing louder and more exaggerated. "Chapter one: ‘The Lap Incident,’ where our dear [Y/N] decides to get comfortable in the most unexpected of places — Beckman’s lap, no less! I must say, that was a sight for sore eyes. One minute, she’s walking around, minding her own business, and the next — bam! — right there, straddling him on the deck like she owns the place! And don't make me mention how deliberate her movemens were when she started to unbutton Becks shirt"

The crew burst into laughter, some members chuckling and others trying to hold back their grins, clearly entertained by Shanks’ dramatic retelling of the events. You could feel your skin burning, wishing you could disappear.

Beckman, meanwhile, just sighed, clearly trying to keep his cool, though you noticed the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“And let’s not forget about chapter two," Shanks continued, leaning forward like he was about to deliver some juicy gossip. “The sounds... Oh, the sounds that echoed from [Y/N] and Beckman’s cabin later that day. I must say, I didn’t realize Beckman had such talent when it came to... well, sound effects. I thought I was hearing things at first, but no, it was definitely them."

Shanks continued, his voice booming with false drama, "It started with a soft, sensual whisper in the room. A soft, feminine gasp of pleasure that, no doubt, only the gods above could fully appreciate."

He paused for effect, his eyes flickering to you with a playful smirk. "And what did I hear? None other than... 'Beckman!' shouted with such fervor, I was almost moved to tears!"

The crew erupted into laughter.

Your face burned, and you leaned forward instinctively to hide behind your drink, wishing the ground would swallow you whole.

"Shanks," you warned, trying to muster whatever dignity you had left.

But Shanks wasn’t done. He leaned forward, lowering his voice just enough for dramatic effect, as if telling a forbidden secret. "And then, in the midst of it all, I hear the sweetest sound," he said, his tone shifting as he made a show of leaning toward the others, "the sound of passion, but not just any kind of passion... the kind that belongs to Beckman, who, let’s just say... knows how to leave a lasting impress-"

You quickly grabbed a mug and tossed it in his direction, cutting him off with a playful glare.

"Shanks, I swear, if you don't stop, I’ll make sure you regret it," you warned, even though there was a hint of amusement in your voice.

The rest of the crew erupted in laughter at your reaction, and Shanks leaned back in his chair, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop. But I’ve got to say, you two make a fine couple, though I’m pretty sure no one else on this ship needs to hear all the details. Next time, maybe turn the volume down a bit, huh?” He winked at you both, clearly enjoying every second of this.

He leaned back in his chair, smiling smugly as he let the tension in the room build

"Asshole," you muttered, though you couldn’t stop a small smile from tugging at your lips, despite your embarrassment.

Shanks threw his head back in laughter. "Oh, I couldn’t resist," he said, clearly enjoying the moment

Beckman, ever the calm one, finally spoke up, his voice smooth but with a hint of something darker.

"Just remember, Captain, you only heard half the story," he said, glancing at you with that knowing glint in his eyes.

[sevcasejay1chicago]

hiii I hope you are doing ok

Could I please request a Jay Halstead x GF Reader

Reader is Diabetic and her monitor gets broken on a call out a couple of hours later when back at the station reader collapses and becomes unresponsive she is rushed to med where they find out she has gone into DKA (diabetic ketoacidosis) and has a seizure Jay is worried and is panicking ect.

Happy ending please

Thank you in advance if you decide to write this request 😘

DKA-Jay Halstead

Authors note: I found this deep within my inbox. I’m so sorry it took me forever to do this. I hope you enjoy it anyways. Also, not really completely proof read, but I hated waiting any longer. 😂

Warnings: vomiting, language, possible inaccurate medical information

🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔

What should have been a run of the mill bust and paperwork day ended at Med. You’re barely conscious as Jay leans over your head, yelling for Nat to do something as you seize, barely getting a breath in. Everything flutters in and out of focus as your mind replays the day.

🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔

You sat in Jay’s passenger side, restlessly waiting for Voight to give you the go ahead. You and Jay have been on this stake out for over 24 hours and your ready to do the bust so that you could go file your paper work and go home with Jay. It was also time to change your monitor this evening and you wanted nothing more than to shower without the old device before replacing it with a new one.

“I can hear you thinking.” Jay mumbled, head laid back as he rested his eyes.

You jumped, thinking your partner was asleep. Last time you checked, his breathing was even and his jaw was slack. “Thought you were sleeping.” You muttered, rubbing your eye where the binoculars you were looking through hit it when you jumped.

Jay sighed, sitting up in his seat and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Well, the sun is up and your thinking too loud, so I figured it was time to wake up and check in.” Jay said, smirking as he reached across the console to kiss the side of your head. “Sooooo?” Jay drug out, wiggling his eyebrows to make you crack a smile.

“Just ready to go home.” You said, looking in his eyes briefly before sweeping the area. There were only a few cars in the area at this time of morning, but this was the time they liked to move product.

“I know baby. Soon enough.” Jay said, reaching for your luke warm coffee and taking a sip before placing it back in the cup holder. “Let me take a turn. Maybe close your eyes or check in with the team.” Jay said, opening his now empty hand for the binoculars.

You sighed, not wanting to argue with him. You handed the binoculars over to Jay before pulling out your phone and shooting a text to Kim to check in. While you waited for her reply, you leaned your head against Jay’s shoulder and snuggled close, letting your eyes slip shut.

Jay leaned his back into the center console to provide you access to his shoulder, knowing you sleep best when you can feel him. His eyes stay trained on the surrounding area, checking closer with the binoculars every now and then. He keeps his movements to a minimum to not disturb you seeing as you’ve been up most of the night. You never rest well on stake outs, but Jay’s former Army background has proven useful for sleeping pretty much anywhere.

Half an hour later, you wake to Jay speaking on the phone in a hushed voice. “Sarge. Get everyone down here. We’ve got a small box truck and three more vehicles pulling into the warehouse.” Jay said, leaning back to look at you as he felt you remove your head from his shoulder.

You took the binoculars, narrowing in on the open garage door. You could see a table lined with wooden crates. All of them appeared to be unmarked, but big enough to contain guns. “I see boxes that probably contain weapons, but they are unmarked and I can’t see inside from this angle.” You spoke into your own phone.

“We will be there in 5.” Voight said, causing you and Jay to jump into action. “50-21 requesting backup to 1415 Kincaid. Multiple players. Assumed to be armed and dangerous.” You and Jay heard called out on the city wide radio.

Jay grabbed your bullet proof vest and handed it to you before grabbing his own. He threw his seat back to avoid hitting the wheel by accident as you scrambled to grab Jay’s rifle from the back and place it on the floor board next to your feet. By the time both of you have your gear on, ears in, and weapons checked, the team has pulled up. Voight’s tires screech as he parks his SUV to block the entrance with Kevin’s car blocking the rest of the way. Jay pulls his truck behind Kevin’s before you are both jumping out and running into the building after your team, patrol flanking as they arrive.

“Watch your backs. We got guns.” Kevin says, peeking into the boxes as you all run by.

“Chicago PD! Come out with your hands up! We’ve got you surrounded.” Voight yells, eyes scanning the warehouse. Tall boxes block the view, but you can hear scrambling as the men pick up guns and begin to take off on foot.

“Stop! Police!” You yell, running as fast as your legs can carry you. You stop every now and then to shield your body with varied crates as you all begin to exchange gunfire, but you don’t let it stop you from reaching an open area blocked off with more boxes for cover. You take off, yelling to Kim and Adam “We are coming to you guys at the back.” As you continue your pursuit of two men running along the other side of the boxes. Once you reach the end, you are able to tackle one to the ground as you hear Kim announce herself, stopping the other man in his tracks.

Silence, other than the clicking of handcuffs, is now the only thing you hear. Jay runs up, pulling you up off the ground as Adam puts the cuffs on the man. “You good?” Jay asks, holding you by the shoulder so that you don’t fall over as you bend at the waist, propping yourself up with your hands on your knees, attempting to catch your breath. You nod, giving a shaky thumbs up as adrenaline pumps through your body. Jay leads you to a crate and sits you down. “Catch your breath and then we can start processing the evidence.” Jay says, kissing you on the forehead before walking away.

~TIME SKIP~

Once you finished doing what you all could, Jay leads you to the truck and helps you climb in, stripping your vest off of you as you basically collapse into the passenger seat. You’d been dragging the past hour, which was now starting to become noticeable by everyone. When you started recounting the items in your possession for the third time, Voight sent you and Jay back to the precinct to change and go home, having everyone wrap up as well.

“Hey baby. Let me see those y/c/e.” Jay spoke softly, tenderly holding your head in his hands. When you groggily peered at your lover, you let a dopey smile spread across your face. “There’s my girl.” Jay whispered, kissing your forehead. “Drink your water and I’ll get us back to the precinct.” Jay said, helping you to put your legs into the truck and buckle you up before handing you your water. Once he had you situated, he closed your door and rounded the truck to get into his side.

You winced as the truck started moving, lightly hissing in pain. Jay didn’t seem to hear it since he didn’t start grilling you about potential injuries, which you were thankful for. You didn’t want or need to be interrogated for a tummy ache. Instead of saying anything, you drank your water, gulping yours down and Jay’s down within minutes when you suddenly realized how thirsty you were. Jay didn’t comment, thinking you were dehydrated from the stake out.

Once back at the district, Jay helped you up the steps and into the locker room. All the movement made your stomach churn. You tried to ignore it, but suddenly all the water you drank was pushing to the surface. You launched yourself out of Jay’s arms and over the trash can before he could even process what was happening. You had a white knuckle grip on the rim of the trash can as you hiccup and heave, letting out a stream of water.

“Woah! Okay. Okay baby. I gotcha.” Jay says, rushing to grab your pony tail and tuck it into your shirt before he is wrapping an arm around your chest and rubbing your back with the other hand. “I gotcha. Just let it out. It’s alright honey. It’s alright.” Jay soothes, not really sure if it’s mostly for you or some for himself.

You cough and heave a few times, shakily latching onto Jay’s arm around your chest with one hand while clutching your stomach with the other. You moan as your vision blurs and you feel your knees begin to buckle. “J-humph.” You try to call his name, fear taking over your voice.

“Sh Sh Sh. I know. I know. Hang on.” Jay says, getting a better grip on you from behind before turning to yell out the door. “I need some help in here!” Jay hollers, having a gut feeling that something is really wrong.

Footsteps can be heard running up the stairs in multiple directions before Trudy comes running in from the stairs near the Sargent desk and Kim comes through the door you both just came through, Voight and Adam not far behind.

“What the hell happened?” Both Trudy and Hank yell at the same time, coming up to the pair of you.

“I don’t know. I gotta get her down. She’s fading Sarge.” Jay says, leaning over you to grip you better in his arms.

“Kim, guide him back with her to straddle the bench. Adam, go call a bus. Tell them we have an officer down. Trudy, help me move this trash can with them. She’s still going.” Voight instructs, immediately taking charge.

Once Kim has her hands on Jay’s sides, he allows her to guide him back, you being practically dragged along. Platt and Voight follow close to you, making sure you stay over the large trash can. They tilt it some once Jay sits and pulls you down with him. Voight has a hold of one of the handles as Trudy goes to grab a few paper towels and wets them. Adam comes running in with a med bag.

“Ambo’s 10 out. 51 is sending Brett and Violet from a call. They are closest.” Adam relays the information, kneeling at your side. “Lemme check her vitals. They want us to watch her stats.” Adam explains, taking out the pulse ox and attaching it to your finger as your heaves start to calm.

Voight sets the trash can down and slightly to the side before taking his phone out, checking your monitor. “Jay, how long has her monitor been down?” Voight asks, seeing that it is no longer transmitting information.

“What?” Jay asks, leaning around you and lifting your shirt. When he sees the broken monitor, he mutters a curse. “DKA. Fuck. Sarge, she’s in DKA.” Jay quickly realizes, having seen you in this situation before.

Trudy has a wet paper towel on your neck and forehead as your head lulls forward. “Y/n!” Trudy yells as Jay tightens his hold on you.

“I gotta lay her down. Kim, I need your jacket.” Jay instructs, allowing Adam and Voight to help him lower you into the recovery position on the floor. “Give me the glucose machine.” Jay says, holding his hand out to Adam. Once the monitor beeped, Jay swore lowly. “It’s 487.” Jay mumbled, pulling out his phone. He pressed it to his ear as Adam monitored the pulse ox.

“Jay?” Nat asked as soon as she picked up. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Y/n. 61 is on the way, but I need a room cleared and prepped. She’s in DKA.” Jay explained, running a hand through his hair.

“Is she conscious?” Nat asked, moving to April and Maggie to whisper the urgent need she had.

“No. She threw up and she passed out. We’ve been on a stake out and then a bust. Her monitor probably broke during the bust, so we had no idea. She’s been struggling with her sugar the last couple of days, but now she’s at 487.” Jay quickly explained, thankful that Brett ran in has he spoke. “ Brett’s here. We should be landing in 20.” Jay said, not waiting for a reply as he locked eyes with Brett’s movements.

“Hey Y/n? Can you hear me?” Brett asks, turning you over slightly, using Jay’s lap to tilt you enough to do a sternum rub. You groan and Brett relaxes some. “She’s not coming out of this. We gotta load her up and get h-“ Brett stops as you tense up, immediately being thrown into a seizer.

“Oh fuck.” Jay gasps, rolling you completely on your side as Voight leans down to move your legs into a more stable position and lightly holds them there.

“Vi, I need the med kit in the locker rooms now!” Sylvie says into her radio. “Everyone else that is not helping, please clear the room. We need space.” Brett instructs, leaning over to make sure your airway is clear and to check the pulse ox that is still on your finger. “Vitals are mostly fine. Elevated for obvious reasons, but not dangerous. I’m going to give her meds to stop the seizer if it continues. Let’s see if she can ride it out first.” Brett says, not wanting to pump you with anything knowing that you have weird drug reactions.

Jay nods and sits back, a hand lightly in your side to keep you there. He mutters soft reassurance in your general direction has tears quietly roll down his face. He’s never seen you this bad before.

“Oh God.” Violet says as she walks into the room. “Here.” She hands Brett a saline bag and a IV kit before she leans down to recheck your stats and airway.

After roughly 45 seconds, the seizer stops. You go completely lax under Jay and Voights’ hand. Your breathing is erratic, but the pulse ox results aren’t causing any other alarms.

“Sargent. Get Ruzek to grab the stair chair. It’s in the lobby next to the watchman’s desk.” Violet says, taking the prepped saline bag from Brett and standing, putting pressure on it to speed up the process and get you rehydrated.

——PRESENT——

Everything else is a blur. Now, as you open your eyes to various voices and bright lights, you do your best to lay still. Everything feels wrong. You immediately feel anxious and start to reach for the mask over your face.

“Hey hey hey. No baby.” Jay says, immediately taking your hand and gently lowering it back to your chest. “Hey. Look at me. I’m here sweetheart.” Jay says, brushing your hair back from your face and gently coaxing you as the heart monitor starts to pick up.

You open your eyes and look around. You are clearly in one of the icu rooms at med. You can see Nat and Will exchanging words outside your room as they glance between you and their computers.

“Baby?” Jay calls, grabbing your attention.

You slowly turn to Jay, locking eyes with him as he finally comes into view. You squint against the light, but Jay leans further over to block the assault.

“Hey you. Welcome back.” Jay whispers, tears threatening to spill.

“W-wha-“ you try to say, clearing your throat.

“Hang on.” Jay says, reaching for the water next to your bed and carefully helping you sit up and take a few cautious sips as he pulls the oxygen mask to the side. Once your done, he places the water aside and immediately replaces the oxygen mask.

“What happened?” You ask, clearing your throat from what feels like disuse or sickness.

“Well you went into DKA. You got sick in the locker rooms and we had to call 61 to transport you. You had two seizers and stopped protecting your airway so they had to intervene. You’ve been out for 48 hours. Your in the ICU at Med.” Jay explained, soothing your hair back as he speaks.

Your eyes widen, staring at Jay as you process what he just said. “H-how?” You ask, wracking your brain. You haven’t had an episode this bad in years. They don’t happen with the monitor.

“Your monitor broke during the raid. We knew your sugars had been out of wack, but since you weren’t attached to the monitor, we had no clue how high it got until you went down.” Jay explained, squeezing your hand that you slipped into his.

You slowly nodded. That made sense. Now you had just one more question. “When can I go home?” You whispered, looking at Jay with the biggest puppy dog eyes you could.

Jay chuckled. He knows you hate hospitals as much as him. “Soon enough baby. Soon enough.” Jay promises, leaning up to kiss your forehead.

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[saphiccarma]

Desperately need a Rio x reader fic with Rio using her strap with the reader the first time 😩

- Casually, fuck you.

Relationships - Rio x Reader

Summary - Rio Vidal was your stepmom and you absolutely loathed her with every fiber of your being. But at the same time you can't deny the spark in your stomach at the sight of her

Warnings: smut (duh), strap-on sex (reader receiving), slight neck biting, lil' bit of fingering (reader recieving).

A/N: I combined this with another request because i felt the two went togther well. anywhoooo guess whos out of writers block? Me! But now I'm sick :(. anyways, enjoy

Your father had gotten married just a year and a half after your mother died. You despised him for it, still do, unable to accept that he had moved on so swiftly. And worst of all, you absolutely hated his new spouse. Detested her with your whole heart. She was replacing your mother in a cruel way you could never forgive.

Only serving to add salt to the wound, she never seemed bothered by your sharp, cold attitude, instead taking it in stride. Her smiles were sweet but tinged with a certain edge of desire you missed, and her wide brown eyes sparkled whenever she looked at you. Her name was Rio - Rio Vidal. She kept her maiden name even after she married your father.

College kept you away from the house most of the time, you were grateful for the dorms, but on the rare occasions you visited home you absolutely hated it. Hate wasn't even enough to describe it. Home was no longer home, it was a place where your father and...Rio lived. You refused to call her your stepmom. She would never be your mom. She would never compare to your mom. Even if your father tried to force you to get along by taking you both on trips, you refused.

Rio would never be a woman you had a connection with, not now and not even in death. All you could see her as is a woman that your father used to replace your mother. The very thought filled you with a fiery hot rage that had you clenching your fists and scowling to yourself as you busied yourself in the backseat of the car.

Now he'd taken the two of you on a beach trip, the summer weather lasting long into the autumn for some odd reason. You'd chosen to wear a one piece, showing some cleavage (maybe someone would ask for your number if you got lucky), and exposing your thighs. And that was typical swimsuit attire, plus the dress you threw over it, a nice floral one, just so that you weren't in only a swimsuit.

Rio wore a skimpy bikini, the top just barely hiding her breasts, and the lower half leaving little to the imagination. Her skin was milky revealed in it's full glory, thighs perfectly toned with each step she took and abs slightly showing. Every time she moved it was with a quiet confidence, as if she knew just how attractive she was. With her brown hair that fell loosely down her shoulders and dark eyes that sparkled in the sun, you couldn't help but stare, although you tried to hide it. You had to admit, she was surprisingly in shape for a woman in her forties. Not that you would ever say that to her face.

The three of you settled on the beach, chairs laid out and some towels, an umbrella propped up to block the sun. Your father immediately took to a chair, not caring for the water. Scoffing, you roll your eyes, wondering why he even took you to the beach. Probably just to see his new wife in a skimpy bikini.

Cautiously, you waded into the water, acutely aware of your father's eyes on your back as he lounged on a beach chair, black glasses thrown atop his head as he sat in nothing but swim shorts. Rio was probably somewhere nearby, possibly showing off her perfectly toned body to other men. You had no idea why she got with your father when she could probably pull anyone she wanted. Shaking your head at the thought, you focus on stepping into the cool water, letting the waves splash around your skin.

The sun was a soft, gentle reminder of the warm weather, not overbearing but keeping you nice and toasty. It was a stark contrast to the chill of the water that surrounded you. You hardly noticed the water swirling behind you as someone approached, too immersed in the feeling of the sand shifting beneath your feet and children screaming in joy off to the side. A pair of arms draped themselves over your shoulders, looping in front of your chest.

"Hey sweetheart," Rio's voice was a low purr in your ear, "Your father is being a bore so I figured I would come check up on you."

Goosebumps dance along your skin and you know it's not from the water. Rio's front presses against your back, only the thin fabric of your swimsuit separating the two of you, a position that is way too intimate for your relationship. Breath hitching, you grit your teeth and ignore the way your body reacts to her touch, the brand-new shiver that runs down your spine. She smells of salt, although that may be the ocean, and flowers.

"Rio," you say slowly, voice strained, "What are you doing?"

One of her hands slides down to your hip, squeezing slightly, the other still slung over your shoulder, "Like I said, checking on you." Her nails scrapped against your suit before she took a step back, gracefully gliding through the water to stand in front of you. One hand lingers on your waist as she circles you with a sharp smile. It almost reminds you of a shark, with her sharp smile, curved at the edges in a way that was almost tender, and the way she rounded you like a predator.

"I'm not a child," you snap, eyes narrowing into slits as you study her. But you can't deny the way your eyes trail over her form. The way the water drips down her skin and makes her swimsuit cling to her body tightly. She folds her arms in front of her body, hands looping together as she leans back with a fake shocked look and pursed lips.

"Aww no need to be so defensive," she coos, brown eyes trailing over your body slowly. Shivering under her gaze you glare at her taking a step back. Annoyed and unwilling to deal with her shenanigans you turn around with a huff and wade back to shore, ignoring her stare on you the entire time.

^__________________^

For some stupid ass reason, your father decided that hosting a New Years party would be an awesome idea, a costume party. As you wandered around, drink in hand, the stem clutched between your fingers, you spotted Rio. Your own costume was something you’d thrown together hastily, not really caring much.

You would have preferred to never show up, but as much as you despised your father for marrying Rio, you still loved him. He was still your dad.

Rio wore a costume vastly different to her swimsuit a few months ago. It was a black tux that shone under the dangling lanterns, with a fluffy white blouse underneath. Her heeled boots clicked with every step she took. Eyes meeting yours, the woman smiled sharply, revealing the red around her lips and dripping down her neck. Your breath hitched as she skipped over to you, leaning against the wall next to you.

"Hey sweetie," she cooed, taking you in, "Nice costume." Despite yourself, you find your cheeks heating up at her compliment. The way her eyes trail over you, pausing at your chest and lips, before slowly meeting your eyes again, sends shivers down your spine.

Rolling your eyes, you scoff, "What do you want Rio?"

"I'm just being a good host, checking in on everyone," She batted her eyelashes coyly as she dipped her head down, looking up at you through hooded eyes, "Is there anything wrong with that?" Lips curling into a sweet smile, one that betrayed her costume, she trailed her fingers up your arm, leaning in closer, "Are you enjoying the party?"

"More or less," you shrug, cheeks heating slightly as her hand comes to rest on your bicep, squeezing lightly. Your composure is quickly slipping as her warm breath fans on your face, smelling of slight alcohol and something that was so distinctly Rio. Her smile widened as she noticed your breath hitch and the slight tint of pink to your cheeks.

Rio takes a step closer so that the two of you are nearly pressed together and your heart stutters in your chest, and her tone lowers to a husky whisper, "Is there anything I can do to make it better?"

Your eyes flicker to her lips and your breath catches in your throat. Her lips have a deep plum lipstick painted on them to contrast the red makeup staining her skin. Almost tauntingly, her tongue pokes at the corner of her mouth, stretching her cheek out. The sight sends an unwanted heat straight to your core. You hate her. You hate Rio so much. She was replacing your mom, and you could never bring yourself to forgive her or your father for that.

"Cat got your tongue?" she reached up, twirling a lock of your hair between her fingers, "C'mon smart girl, I know you have an answer."

Goosebumps dance along your skin and your thighs squeeze together subconsciously, something you don't even notice. But Rio does, and she glances down at your legs, eyes sparkling in amusement and something almost akin to approval.

"I'm fine," you manage to stammer out, trying (yet failing) to keep your tone curt.

"Alright, if you say so." Her hand slid from your hair to your waist, and she tugged you close abruptly. Her breath fanned against your ear, the warm sensation keeping you frozen in place, "I'm here if you need anything sweetie, anything at all." With a final possessive squeeze to your waist and a suggestive wink, Rio disappears into the crowd, plucking a glass of red wine off a table.

Your stomach tingles and you scowl at yourself, but you can’t your eyes off her swaying hips and tempting form.

^____________^

You hated Rio. Absolutely loathed her with your entire being. Especially hated the fact you were being forced to go out to dinner with her. Were you grown? Yes. But was your father also promising you half a year of free college tuition if you tried to get along with her? Also, yes.

Standing in front of the mirror, you felt oddly annoyed with your appearance. Nothing you tried on seemed to fit right - it all felt inappropriate, not good enough for the occasion. You weren't sure why you wanted to impress Rio; she meant nothing to you. But there was a strange tingle in your stomach and your hands shook slightly when you slipped different outfits on and off. Finally, you settled on something that would work out and you smoothed it over with slightly shaky fingers.

Huffing in annoyance, you decided this outfit was good enough, and it would have to do. You slipped on a pair of shoes. A mix of dread and anticipation swirls in your stomach as you make your way down the stairs. Rio's waiting for you. She wears a sleek-fitting black top, one that had long sleeves. A green flower necklace shines out against the dark fabric. Her curves were perfectly outlined with the way it stuck to her skin and you could see her toned thighs through the sleek pants she wore.

Dark lipstick adorned her lips, and if it was any other person, they would've looked emo. However, Rio, she pulled it off with a distinct elegance. For some odd reason, the lack of vibrance in her outfit made her brown eyes stand out all the more prominently.

"Hi sweetheart," she snatched a purse off the shelf by the door, "You ready to go?"

Suddenly, your throat is dry, but you nod your agreement. Grinning happily, Rio snatched your hand, and she dragged you out the door. Faintly you heard your father shout a goodbye, but all you feel was Rio's hand in yours, her slender, cold fingers.

"M'lady," Rio held the car door open for you, gesturing like a child for you to hop in. You slide into the passenger seat, muscles tense, and nerves fluttering beneath your skin. Rio slips into the driver’s side, long fingers, nails painted a dark green, wrapping around the steering wheel. She drives with reckless abandon and you end up clutching the seat tightly as she speeds through the streets, hardly caring for the safety of others.

She pulls into the parking lot of a fancy restaurant, people dressed in suits and elegant dresses streamed in and out, drunkenly laughing and dangling off their partners arms. Rio slinked out of her side of the car, opening your door before you had a chance to.

"M'lady," she repeated, opening your door once again. A small smile graces your face against your will and you take her hand, letting her guide you out of the car and into the restaurant. Bright lights flash in your face and then there's the constant stream of chatter that flows around.

Subconsciously, maybe despite yourself, you shuffle closer to Rio, "It's crowded in here. Are we even going to get a table?" Rio laughs at your question, and loops her arm through yours, dragging you to the front.

She leans against it, her shirt dipping to show some cleavage as she grins at the young waitress, "Reservation for a Rio Vidal."

For some reason you feel a spark of annoyance, a tight coiling in your chest as the woman glances down at Rio’s breasts, her cheeks tinting a soft shade of red.

The young woman nods, grabbing two menus and wraps of silverware, "Right this way," she chirps, tone bright and happy for someone working in such a busy atmosphere. Rio drags you along, arm looped through yours, and at a fleeting glance the two of you might look like partners. You wipe the thought away as quickly as it had come, cheeks tinting a faint pink. A booth was what the waitress settled on, and you and Rio slid into it.

At first you tried to maintain your distance, but the older woman sat right next to you, her thighs touching yours. For a moment, it was innocent, just a friendly touch. But as the night wore on, both of you were sipping a glass of wine, you couldn't deny the way heat pooled in your stomach.

You didn't notice it, but Rio's hand had landed on your thigh, thumb tracing soft circles as she ate her food, keeping a steady stream of conversation. Her touch sent a jolt of fireworks through you. It set your veins on fire in the best way possible. You were naive and ignored it, thinking you were just actually coming to like her.

Leaning in close, Rio's breath was warm against your ear, "How's the food sweetie?"

"It's good," you mumble, spooning some more into your mouth and trying to forget the way her fingers danced up and down your thigh.

The night wears on and the older woman grows bolder, her hand dipping closer to your aching sex before retreating back out when you opened your mouth to speak. Her arm ended up looped around your shoulder as the two of you laughed and drunk, tracing soft patterns into your shoulder, nails scraping against your skin. Soft lips hover above your ear, nearly touching but not quite.

"All done?" Rio whispers, her lips moving against your skin slowly, tauntingly. Her fingers tip toe along your shoulders, trailing over your back and along your neck before she retreats her hand back to her side.

"Yeah," you manage to breathe out. Your breath caught in your throat, lips suddenly dry and mind spinning. It wasn't from the alcohol, you knew that much, it was something different, something you weren't willing to place.

Smiling happily, plum-colored lips curving into a small smirk, dimples flashing slightly, Rio drags out of the booth. You let her take you out willingly, not a single bone in your body protesting. A few months ago you would rather drown in a pile of bees than spend quality time with your father's wife, but now, she didn't seem so bad. And once again, Rio holds the door open for you, eyes sparkling in amusement.

"Thanks," you mumble once she starts driving, "For making tonight like actually fun."

A small laugh bursts from her throat, the sound melodic and soft - a honeyed tune to your ears.

"Of course, sweetie," she coos, glancing at you. One of her hands comes to stroke your thigh. Her touch sends a fresh shiver through you, a full body shudder wracking you. Rio glances at you, raising an eyebrow, "Cold?"

Her fingers curl tighter around your skin, nails pressing against it through the skin of your fabric, "Uh- yeah." All you can manage is the singular word, her touch affecting you more than you were willing to admit. Shivering once again as her fingers dip higher, lower, your hands grip the seat tightly.

"How far are we from home?" you ask through clenched teeth, keeping your eyes focused on the road ahead of you and not on her wandering fingers.

"Eager for something?" Rio tuts, her grip tightening, "Have some patience."

A heat pools in your stomach at the phrase, and you squeeze your thighs together, only prevented by her hand between them. If you looked at her, you would be able to see the small smirk playing on her lips. The way her hand clutched the steering wheel in impatience. She drove with speed, subtly more than before, tires leaving marks with every turn. She continues to tease you throughout the ride, splaying her finger across your inner leg,

When you pull into the driveway, you're frozen in place, staring straight ahead.

"Look at me," her words are soft, yet commanding, and one hand comes to turn your face towards her. She leans in close, breath fanning against yours, "I'm gonna kiss you," she murmurs, her lips hovering inches above yours, "I'm gonna kiss these pretty little lips."

You don't have time to say anything before she is pressing her lips to yours in a slow, sensual kiss. It started out as slow, but it quickly turned into more, her hands tangling in your hair and tugging you closer. Her tongue explored your mouth, tracing every part of the wet cavern with precise movements.

Just when you thought you were going to pass out from lack of breath, Rio pulls away, "You taste divine," she murmurs against your lips. A large part of you wants her to stop, wants her pull away, but it's pushed aside by the flaming desire in your core.

Her hand comes to tug your head back, exposing the column of your throat to her. She places featherlight kisses along the length of it, lips sucking and teeth occasionally biting.

"My father," you whisper, pupils blown and words breathy, "He-"

"Shhh," Rio cuts you off, pulling back to meet your eyes, "He's out of town, left right after us. Which means I get you all to myself." Teeth nipping at your bottom lip, Rio soothes the sting with her tongue, "Inside, now. I want you stripped and on the bed with your legs spread." Her words leave no room for argument, practically demanding you obey her. You hesitate for the slightest of moments, mind blanking and heart pounding in your ribcage. All you have to do is look at her smudged lipstick before you’re slamming the car door open and rushing into the house.

Hesitantly, you creep up to her bedroom and you take it in. It's been forever since you'd seen your father’s room, and it looked different now that Rio slept there. Teeth biting down on your lip harshly, you tug off your clothes, slowly, one by one. Your hands tremble with each movement and you have to force them to still multiple times. It's a miracle you get your clothes off, but once you finally do, you climb onto the bed. It smells faintly of Rio and that musky scent your father had, but you didn't care much. All you could focus on was the pounding of your heart as you waited for Rio.

It seemed like an eternity before she finally sauntered in, hips swaying with each step and lips curled into a teasing smirk.

"Good girl," she cooed, pausing at the edge of the bed, "Following every instruction I gave you." The praise sends another spark of heat straight to your aching cunt, and you can feel the wetness pooling there. Slowly, almost as if she was mocking you, Rio pulls her pants down, revealing a part of herself.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you catch sight of the strap around her waist. It's a long, girthy, green strap that sticks straight out, attached to her hips by a harness. It bounces once released from the confines of her pants. Now you realize what took her so long. Rio climbs onto the bed on all fours, making her way up to you with small movements, pausing right between your spread legs. Hands landing on your thighs, she looks down at you, smile wide and eyes hooded with desire.

"Tell me you want this," she whispers, staring deep into your eyes.

Biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, you manage to force out, "I want this. Please."

Smile widening, Rio drags the tip of the strap up your soaking wet slit, groaning when she realizes how wet you are, "God damn baby girl, this worked up and we've barely started." You whimper and buck your hips, silently begging for more.

Her hands shoot out to pin your hips to the bed, and she lines up the strap to your entrance, but not before tracing a few teasing circles around your clit. She dips it in slowly at first, letting you adjust to the stretch before thrusting her hips.

You gasp at the feeling of her filling you up with a strap. At first, she starts slow, pumping in and out of you at a pace that's almost gentle - almost. She adores the small whimpers and whines you make, little moans leaving your mouth as you grasp at the bedsheets. When she finally decides you've adjusted enough, Rio snaps forward, burying herself all the way in you. You inhale sharply, eyes fluttering at the sudden, harsh, intrusion. The feeling of her stretching you out, her fake cock straining against your walls is a new sensation, but one you love none the less.

"Good girl," she praised, fingers kneading your waist. Rio sets a brutal pace, pounding in and out of you, wet sounds filling the room. She groans, throwing her head back in pleasure. Hands slipping down to your knees, she hooks your legs over her shoulders, nearly bending you in half as she positions you better.

A loud whimper escapes you at the new position, but you don't have time to question it before Rio's fingers find your clit. Swirling the sensitive nub with precise, practiced movements, Rio brings you closer and closer to the peak of ecstasy. You can feel it building inside you like a raging fire, every snap of Rio's hips only fueling it. She pinches and twirls your thumb between her finger with skilled ease.

"Rio," you whimper, "I'm gonna-" you cut yourself off with a loud whine, "I'm gonna come."

She leans down, capturing your lips in hers in a dominating kiss, "Come for me," she murmurs when she pulls back slightly. With a final sharp piston of her hips and rough twist of her fingers, you come undone. Her name is a choked cry on your lips as your back arches, legs curling around her shoulders.

The orgasm rips through you like none other, waves of pleasure flooding your senses over and over again. Rio works you through your orgasm, gently fingering your clit and leisurely pumping in and out of you. Panting, you look up at her with hooded lashes, taking in the sight of her bright smile and husky eyes. Your chest heaves as you relax into the sheets.

Carefully, Rio's pulls out of you, silencing your whine with a quiet murmur. She deftly unhooks the strap, tossing it carelessly to the side, before laying down next to you. In an unexpected move, she bundled you into her arms, holding you close. Her lips trail delicate, yet open mouthed, kisses all over your face. Across your forehead, down your nose, over your flushed cheeks, following the sharp curve of your jawline.

"Still hate me?" she murmurs, looking down at you in a way that can only be called lustful.

You laugh a little at her question, faking indifference with a shrug, "Eh, my opinion of you has gone up."

Scoffing, Rio tugs you closer, and you bury your face into her chest, savoring the smell of her and the touch of her skin.

"Your father actually wasn't gone," she whispers in your ear, "He's passed out on the couch."

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

Wild Gods

Part 1

M!tiger god x f!reader

After the worst humiliation of your life you fled into the surrounding woods to clear your head and get some distance from it all. The beautiful ruins you stumbled into however held more than just history, a mysterious being there seems so believe that you are his long lost mate.

(Based off the ask here!)

————

Literal blood, sweat and tears down the drain. Years of practicing and refining your spell until perfection only to be turned away. It wasn’t fair! You did everything right and still the council turned you away! All of your friends were accepted though, only adding to your own disappointment.

You muttered a quick “thank you for your time” before leaving, your face red with both anger and sorrow. Once you were far enough away from the gathering you ran, you weren’t sure to where you were running, but you couldn’t go home to face to your family quite yet.

Farther and farther into the surrounding woods you ran until trees gave way to flowers. Beautiful, fragrant flowers adorning ruins. Even crumbling away the ruins still held such majesty, and the sweet smell of the flowers was so familiar and stirred something in you.

Many times had you ventured into the woods to gather reagents, though you had never stumbled across these ruins before. The woods here were well explored, but you had never heard of anything like this in them.

You wandered farther into them, there was something weirdly soothing about walking around here, which was appreciated about now. Well, it was soothing until you heard the crunch of gravel from behind you. Quickly you turned and swore you caught a long, feline tail that disappeared into the dense foliage, too fast to be able to tell if your eyes were just playing tricks on you, though now you also swore you were being watched.

You started to run, something was here with you and you were not keen on finding out exactly what it was, though at soon as you turned to move you collided with something. Someone.

He stood tall and regal, with the head of a tiger and covered with soft, mottled fur that was warm where your face was against his chest after running into him. Light reflected off the gold bangles adorning his wrists and he quickly moved to hold you against him. He placed a hand under your chin to tilt your face up to his, his tail wrapping around one of your legs.

“There you are, my queen. I have been waiting so long for you” he nearly purred.

You tried to pull away, but his grip on you was too tight.

“Who are you?” you asked.

“The lord of this place, though you know that” he was purring and nuzzling the top of your head.

You squirmed against him more, trying to get away though he showed no intent on releasing you.

“I have waited so long for you to return to me. So long here alone. But you have returned to me at last, my mate.”

“I, I don’t-” you stammered, trying to wrap your mind around the situation, “I’m not.”

“I would know you anywhere, my mark is on your very soul. You are my mate returned to me, do not shy away.”

Your pulse was rising in your throat, fear gripping you and taking over. You felt as though you could pass out, this strange being speaking as if he knew you.

“You were taken from me too soon before, but I will not let them take you from me again” his grip on you tightened, clawed hands digging into your skin, “This time I will rebuild my kingdom with you at my side. This time you will accept my gift this time and reign at my side. Our children will grow proud and strong, our daughters more radiant than the sun and our sons stronger than the mountains.”

Slowly he had backed you against a column, pinning you between the cool, smooth stone and his own well built form. His breath was warm on your neck as he nuzzled against you and you felt him grinding his hips against you.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt them tearing up. You failed at your life’s ambition, you had no idea how to go home and face your family, no idea how to carry on with your life now, and now you were trapped by this strange being.

“You are… scared?” he asked.

You cracked your eyes open to see him looking down at you, a sad expression on his face and his brow knitted together in confusion.

“You truly do not remember me at all?” he asked.

Unable to find you words you just shook your head. His grip on you loosened and his tail dropped from where it was wrapped around your leg.

“I’ve waited so long” he started again, “And you look at me like a stranger.”

“I don’t, I don’t know who you are” you stammered out, “You have the wrong person.”

“No!” an edge of almost anger slipped into his voice, but dropped almost immediately, “It is etched on your very soul, I would know you anywhere. And even after a thousand years your soul still drew you back here, back to me.”

You shifted uncomfortably, glad he was no longer pressed against you at least, but you had no idea what to do now. Returning home meant facing your family in shame, explaining that all your years of hard work were for nothing, that of all your friends you were the only one not accepted to the council. You had nowhere else to go, and now this strange being was convinced that you were his mate.

“You are finally home at least” he purred, “Come, let me help you get settled in, maybe you will remember then.”

You did not know why, but you followed him between the crumbling walls of the ruins, you supposed you really had nowhere else to go anyways.

“What are these flowers?” you asked.

“Jasmine, your favorite. You planted them here all those years ago.”

The ruins were an absolute labyrinth, every turn taking you deeper and to the point where you did not think you could trace your way back out. He lead you to a room that least still had a roof, though even then it was scarcely better off than the rest of things.

“I know it is not much now, but now that I have you at my side again I will be able to finally start rebuilding” he said, “Come, it is late, lay with me and rest.”

You followed him to what was less of a bed and more of a nest. His tone indicated that it was less of a request and more of a command and you were certain you did not want to test his temper. Pillows, soft silks, and pelts formed a surprisingly cozy place to rest as he pulled you against his chest.

You couldn’t help but sniffle. You failed the most important moment of your life, you did not know how you could ever face your family, and from the way this strange being was talking he seemed intent on not letting you leave here.

“There is no need for that. You are safe and home. Soon everything will be back as it is supposed to be” he leaned down to run his rough tongue along your cheek, catching the few tears that rolled down. “This place will be beautiful once more. You will take your place at my side to rule, you will bear our children, and this time I will make sure no one takes you from me.”

You don’t know for how long you laid there, his arm wrapped around you and preventing you from being able to get up and leave. His face was buried against the back of your neck while he laid on his side and clutched your to his chest, you could feel how purred even in his sleep.

Tomorrow you would sort this mess out. Explain to him better that you weren’t his mate, that he was mistaken. That you needed to return home and review your spell again, that surely with a little polishing up you could try again and impress the council. But for now you couldn’t do much of anything. So instead you would sleep, clear your mind, and worry about it all in the morning.

[writeriguess]

So this is like a semi emergency request. I’ve seen people ask other blogs for those, if it’s not ok on your blog just ignore me!

But do you think you could do a Hawks x reader where he’s like her husband and he constantly has to remind her to drink some water because she’s just the type that won’t if not begged to. So like one day she gets really sick when she gets home after patrolling all day and she faints due to dehydration from not drinking water for a while.

I’m going through a wicked case of dehydration rn because I’m just not the type to drink water often and I just need the comfort. I definitely regret my decisions and I’m going to try to be better about drinking water, I think I’m learning my lesson lolll

author's note: I want to be clear—this is a one-time exception. With a busy season ahead, there will be entire weeks when I won’t be able to check Tumblr or write. During those times, I won’t be available for “emergency requests.” My first busy period starts in just a week and a half, and right now, I’m scrambling to get through requests because I won’t be able to cover those two weeks I’ll be away. If I started receiving more of these last-minute requests, they would slow me down too much. That said, I do hope you feel better soon.

Also, just a quick heads-up: Tumblr’s gif library has been down for several days, so I won’t be able to include gifs in any fics requested less than a week ago. I’m really sorry about that! Hopefully, it’ll be fixed soon.

Flight Risk

The moment you step through the door, exhaustion weighs you down like a lead blanket. Your limbs feel heavier than usual, your vision swimming slightly as you toe off your boots. Patrolling had been brutal today—villains popping up left and right, citizens needing assistance, and of course, the unrelenting sun bearing down on you. Still, you push through, ignoring the sluggishness in your body, the dryness in your throat. It’s nothing you can’t handle.

Keigo, however, would strongly disagree.

“Babe, did you drink any water today?” His voice carries from the kitchen, where he’s leaning lazily against the counter, golden eyes flicking toward you. The way his wings shift—just the slightest ruffle of irritation—makes it clear that he already knows the answer.

You wave him off, too drained to deal with his nagging right now. “I’m fine, Hawks.”

He arches a brow. “That wasn’t the question, dove.”

You roll your eyes and mumble something incoherent, making your way toward the couch. You don’t even get the chance to sit before the dizziness swells into something much worse. The room tilts, your knees buckle, and then—nothing.

When you come to, the first thing you register is warmth. Something soft and feathery is draped over you, and it takes a few sluggish blinks to recognize the familiar red of Keigo’s wings wrapped around your body. His scent—fresh air, something musky and warm—grounds you, but there’s an underlying tightness in the way his arms are curled around you.

“Seriously?” His voice is quieter than usual, but the edge in it makes you wince. “How many times do I have to tell you to drink some damn water?”

You shift slightly, only to be met with a firm press of his hand against your forehead. “Uh-uh. Don’t even think about moving yet. You scared the hell outta me, you know that?”

Guilt settles heavy in your stomach. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to?” His laugh is hollow, and he pulls back just enough for you to see the crease in his brows. “Sweetheart, you passed out. In our living room. After I specifically asked you if you drank any water today.”

You avert your eyes, feeling suddenly small under his gaze. “I was busy.”

Keigo lets out a sharp exhale, clearly biting back whatever smart remark is on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he shifts, grabbing a glass of water from the nearby table. “Drink.”

You hesitate for a second too long, and immediately, his expression darkens. “Drink, or I swear to God, I will hold your nose and pour it down your throat.”

A laugh bubbles up despite yourself, weak and hoarse. “That’s dramatic.”

“And you’re impossible,” he grumbles, but there’s no real bite to it. He lifts the glass to your lips, watching closely as you sip. The water is cool, soothing against your parched throat, and you hadn’t even realized how desperately you needed it.

Once you finish, he sets the glass aside with a sigh, running a hand through his messy blond hair. His wings twitch slightly before curling tighter around you, caging you in his warmth. “You can’t keep doing this,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “I don’t care how strong you are. You have to take care of yourself, or I will—personally. And trust me, baby bird, you won’t like my methods.”

You hum, nuzzling into his chest. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

Keigo groans, pressing a lingering kiss to the crown of your head. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” But the way his arms tighten around you, the way he stays tucked against you for the rest of the night, says otherwise.

He just loves you too much to let you slip through his fingers—even over something as simple as forgetting to drink water.

The next morning, you wake up to the sound of rustling feathers and the warm press of a hand against your cheek. Blinking blearily, you see Keigo crouching beside the bed, his golden eyes scanning your face with clear concern.

“How do you feel?”

You stretch your arms slightly, feeling a little less drained than before. “Better,” you admit, voice still raspy. “Still a little tired.”

Keigo frowns but nods. “That’s expected. You were majorly dehydrated. I had to keep waking you up last night to get you to drink more.” He gestures to the nightstand, where an empty water bottle and another half-full one sit.

A pang of guilt washes over you, and you reach for his hand, giving it a small squeeze. “I’m sorry, Kei.”

He scoffs, but there’s no real irritation in his expression. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll accept your apology on one condition.”

You tilt your head, wary. “What is it?”

Keigo grins, but there’s a sharp glint in his eyes. “You’re not allowed to leave this bed until you finish another full bottle of water. No sneaky dumping it in a plant, no ‘accidentally’ knocking it over. I’m watching you.”

You groan but take the bottle anyway. “You’re a menace.”

“And you’re a flight risk when it comes to taking care of yourself,” he quips back, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “But you’re my flight risk.”

With that, he settles in beside you, watching closely as you take slow sips from the bottle. You know he’s not going to let this go anytime soon, and honestly, with the way his arms wrap around you like a protective cocoon, you don’t mind one bit.

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ

…the tide goes in, the tide goes out, featuring goldfish!reader x cliffbythesea!matt.

Matt watches the seafoam from the library window, his headphones on but the music low. He’s supposed to be studying, but his mind drifts…to the way she smiled at him in the car yesterday, warm like the morning sun.

His brothers always tell him he’s a creature of habit. He drinks the same brand of apple juice every morning, swims the same stretch of ocean every evening, zones out in class at the same intervals every day. Maybe that’s why the telescope in his room has shifted from the ships at sea to the phases of the moon.

It’s fine. He likes the predictability of things.

But she doesn’t fit into a cycle. Not exactly. She’s more like an orbit, slipping in and out of his days at odd, unpredictable moments—always returning, always catching him off guard. Loud and bubbly, disturbing his peace and serenity.

Like a fish, he thinks suddenly.

The way she moves, darting between places, her energy uncontainable. The way she catches the light in her hair, her eyes. The way she never lingers in one place too long, but always comes back.

He’s startled by a book dropping onto the table in front of him. He looks up.

There she is, grinning winsomely. “Hi Matt,” she chirps, plopping into the seat opposite him, leaning her elbows on the table. “What are you listening to?”

Matt hesitates before sliding his headphones off. “Uh, Mac Miller,” he says. “Kind of a quiet day thing.”

“Nice,” she hums, tucking her legs onto the chair. She’s already flipping through a novel she brought, something with a pastel cover and dog-eared pages. “I like this time of day best. It makes me feel like I’m in a movie.”

Matt quirks his eyebrow. “What kind of movie?”

She considers, making a low hum again. “Something nostalgic. Like Before Sunrise but more magical.”

“Magic?”

She giggles, a pretty tinkling sound. “The potential of a new day is magical. Don’t you think so?”

He should’ve known she’d say something like that.

And maybe it’s the lighting, or the way she’s beaming at him, but the thought slips out before he can stop it…

“Can I call you Goldie, Y/n?”

She blinks. Then she grins, like he’s given her a gift. “Of course you can, Matt.”

The librarian glares at them, and Goldie presses a finger to her lips, still smiling. Matt shakes his head, but there’s something light in his chest now, something he can’t quite name.

The weeks pass like tide cycles. Ebbing, flowing, inescapable. 

They keep meeting like this, like clockwork. The library. The grocery store. The beach.

She leaves oranges in his locker sometimes. “For the juice,” Goldie tells him brightly. He doesn’t even mention that he’s more of an apple juice guy.

He brings some of his CDs to his car, because he’s too nervous to invite her over yet. “This is essential listening,” he tells her, deadpan. She takes him at his word, nodding solemnly.

Somewhere in between the walking, the half-held conversations, the comfortable silences, Matt realises something.

She’s part of his routine now. 

And maybe that should scare him, but it doesn’t.

Because when he looks at her, he gets the same feeling he did as a kid, cradling something small and alive in his hands.

Like he’s found something extraordinary. Like he’s been given something he’s meant to protect.

creds to @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers🫶🏻

a/n: this took sooo long to get right but i really hope u enjoy bc i love this and am kinda proud of it:)) pls leave me asks abt these two,, i would love to answer any questions u have<3

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid comment to be added/removed!!

till next time!!

[i-lovee-bellie]

"Riding Lessons,"

Summary; You are certain that you want to learn how to ride a horse. Luckily, you've got a husband that does just that. Warnings; None, just a cute lil fluff. note-- this is my first imagine, please be kind and send feedback if needed! ────୨ৎ────

The crisp morning air carried the scent of damp earth and fresh hay as you stood in the open field just outside Arrow House. The rising sun cast a golden glow over the landscape, stretching its light across the rolling hills. A gentle breeze played with your hair as you stared up at the towering ivory stallion before you, your stomach twisting in nervous anticipation.

“I don’t know about this, Tommy,” you muttered, glancing at him warily.

Thomas Shelby stood beside you, calm and composed as ever, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Dressed in his usual three-piece suit, he looked entirely unbothered by the dirt and the rustic setting of the stables.

“You said you wanted to learn,” he reminded you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he exhaled a slow stream of smoke.

“Yeah, well,” you hesitated, eyeing the horse’s powerful muscles as it shifted beneath the saddle. “I didn’t think I’d be getting on a damn warhorse.”

Tommy chuckled, reaching out to stroke the stallion’s neck. “Mather's gentle. He won’t throw you off—unless you start screaming, then maybe.”

You shot him a glare. “Not funny.”

He ignored your scowl and stepped behind you, his hands resting lightly on your waist. “Alright, up you go.”

Before you could protest, he lifted you effortlessly, guiding you into the saddle. You barely had time to grip the reins before the sheer height of the horse sent a new wave of nerves through you.

Tommy moved to stand beside you, one hand on the reins just beneath yours, the other resting on your thigh to steady you. His touch was firm, grounding.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “He can feel if you’re tense.”

You let out a slow breath, forcing yourself to loosen your grip.

“Good,” Tommy praised, his blue eyes watching you intently. “Now, give him a light nudge.”

You hesitated before pressing your heels gently against the horse’s sides. Mather obeyed instantly, stepping forward with a smooth, easy gait.

A laugh of pure surprise escaped you. “I did it!”

Tommy’s lips twitched into a rare, genuine smile. “You did.”

Encouraged, you tried to sit straighter, gaining confidence with each step. The rhythm of the horse’s movement was oddly soothing, and for the first time, you understood why Tommy spent so much time out here.

“Not bad, eh?” he mused, walking beside you with his hands casually in his pockets.

You grinned down at him. “Not bad at all.”

Tommy nodded in approval, but then, with that familiar gleam of mischief in his eyes, he said, “Alright. Let’s see if you can handle a trot.”

Your confidence faltered. “Wait—what?”

But Tommy had already given Mather a quick signal. Before you could react, the horse picked up speed, moving into a light trot.

“Tommy—Tommy, help—” you yelped, gripping the reins for dear life as you bounced slightly in the saddle.

Tommy’s laughter was rare, but it rang out clear and deep as he grabbed the reins just enough to steady the horse. “You’re alright,” he assured you, amusement lacing his tone. “Just move with him, not against him.”

It took a moment, but you found the rhythm, adjusting your posture as Tommy had instructed.

When you finally got the hang of it, you beamed at him, breathless. “I think I’m actually doing it.”

Tommy nodded, his eyes warm with approval. “Told you.”

You slowed Mather to a walk, feeling the exhilaration still buzzing in your veins. As Tommy reached up, helping you dismount, you stumbled slightly, landing against his chest. His arms instinctively came around you, holding you steady.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice softer now.

You looked up at him, your heart still racing—not from fear, but from something else entirely. “Thanks for teaching me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Tommy’s gaze flickered to your lips for the briefest moment before he smirked. “You’ll be racing me in no time.”

You rolled your eyes, but the way his hands lingered on your waist told you that maybe—just maybe—you wouldn’t mind another lesson.

[navybrat817]

A Cornucopia for You!

Steve Rogers; secret dating; corporate; fluff

Your feet felt the sweet relief of solid ground as you slipped your heels off in the elevator ride up to your penthouse. The artificial light in the small box was bright, so much in comparison to the darkness outside. You swore you wouldn’t have seen the sun today if it weren’t for the floor to ceiling windows in your CEO suite.

Channing, the newest board member who had just taken over for his late father, had been relentless for the past few months. He forced you to work late hours, constantly tried to embarrass you every single chance he had, and never took your word for anything, claiming the only reason the company held onto a female CEO and put up with you was “because you’re single.”

He wasn’t quite right about that, though. Sure, you weren’t married, but for the better part of a year, you’d been dating someone so sweet, so kind, and so perfect, except for the fact that he was the CEO of a startup company. One that the board considered a rival.

So you and Steve kept a few simple rules: keep the relationship private, and do your best to keep work talk out of your homes. The second rule was a little more flexible, though. The two of you often found yourselves helping each other with problems, pulling on your collective experience, and of course Steve knew about how terrible Channing was being. Especially since he believed you to be a single workaholic that wouldn’t hop off your back.

Work had gotten you twisted so much so that you’d even forgot what today was until the elevator doors opened and you stepped out. Fluorescent light was replaced by candle and moonlight, vases of your favorite flowers lined your tabletops, and lounging in the middle of your living room sat an all too familiar large figure.

“Steve.” It came out as more of a gasp than anything as you watched him stand and gracefully walk over to you.

“Hi, Sweetheart. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He greeted you with a hug and the sweetest kiss on the lips. You could feel yourself melting into his arms, almost all the tension releasing from your shoulders, but when you pulled away, concern furrowed your brows. Steve clocked it immediately, of course he did. His warm hands gently brushed up and down your arms.

“Hey, I know this week has been a lot, but you’re home now. You and I can just relax.”

Your eyes fluttered shut and you nodded, placing your forehead against his shoulder with a sigh.

“You’re right. I’ve got some leftovers in the fridge. I know it’s not the most romantic, but we can heat them up and eat them in the tub?”

Steve laughed, his eyes lighting up with genuine affection before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You heat up the bath and I’ll heat up the food?”

As the two of you sat opposite each other in the oversized tub, bubbles up to your shoulders, you were so grateful for him and the peace he provided you. The sanctuary.

Steve finished off his glass of wine and set it to the side. “I know we agreed no work talk, but I just wanna say one thing. If you think it’s a bad idea, feel free to forget it and move on, but this offer will always stand.”

You shifted, putting a leg in Steve’s lap for a foot rub and you stifled a groan as he began.

“Come work with me.”

Your eyes quickly shot open at that. “What?”

“Be my co-CEO. Heck, be the sole CEO if you want, but I really don’t wanna see you torn up by shareholders anymore. I don’t have those. You’d be your own boss. We’d be unstoppable.”

You set your wine glass aside and sat up, making your way to straddle Steve’s lap, your hands gripping his steady shoulders. You leaned in and watched as his eager eyes shifted between yours, your lips brushing his, sharing shallow breaths.

“Okay.”

Oh, Steve is so perfect! ❤️ Essie, you are amazing, and I love everything about this. I wouldn't hesitate to give Channing the finger on my last day. And the image of the flowers and Steve sitting there both sweetly and full of power. We all need someone like him in our lives. ❤️

Love and thanks! ❤️

[yoonkinii]

Waiting...

Based on Fluffleboo's post Warning(s): death, mentions of death, hopelessness, murder, kidnapping, grief, depressive episodes, panic attacks, throwing up, mention of attempted su!c!de. Masterlist I hope I did a good job with her idea.

Note: I did change some of the events that take place but this idea and writing was heavily based on Fluffleboo (@fluffleboo) and their brain from coming up with this. Thank you for allowing me to use your idea and to create something with it. 

Reader is female (sorry I have not mastered being able to write with no gender yet), no use of Y/N, reader is of the elf lineage (makes astarion being gone for 200 year and the reader not being dead or super old make sense) 

I should also make it known that the reader and astarion didn’t live in Baldur’s Gate at the beginning, it wouldn’t make sense if I didn’t change it so lets pretend they just lived in another major city. 

LOTS of flashbacks, I’m sorry if it gets confusing but I wanted to write it in a way where there’s backstory to everything. If you need any clarification, let me know and I’ll do my best to explain it. It sort of gives context before having a flashback tied in with the context before it leads up to the main point with no more flashbacks.

Astarion has Green eyes Pre-Vampyr Spawn. Astarion is a little OOC cause teehee. 

I did include parts of the song “Will you fall in love with me again” in here, don’t be surprised if you see them. 

She remembers the night he vanished - the way the stars burned bright, oblivious to the absence that would soon consume her. She had woken to an empty bed, the sheets cold where he should have been. At first, there was no panic, only reason. He had told her he would be late, something about unrest in the streets, disputes over the new laws he passed. 

So she simply sighed, turned over, and let sleep reclaim her. 

It wasn’t until the next evening, when the sun hung high and the space beside her remained untouched, that the panic finally set in. 

“You’re staring again.”

His voice, smooth like velvet and as warm as the morning rays slipping through the curtains hitting his skin; casting him in a warm glow as he sits against the headboard, silver framed reading glasses hanging low on his nose. 

His voice was smooth, warm like the golden light slipping through the curtains, casting his skin in a soft glow. He sat against the headboard, silver-framed reading glasses perched low on the bridge of his nose, a stack of parchment resting in his hands. 

She shifted beneath the sheets, the fabric rustling as she propped herself up on her forearms. The blanket sliding down, baring the curve of her back to the morning air. 

“Can’t help it,” she murmured, tilting her head with a smile. “You’re absolutely enchanting.”

He snorted, amusement flickering across his face as he glanced at her over the rim of his glasses. “Enchanting?” he echos, setting the papers aside on the dark wooden table beside the bed.

She moved with him, closing the space between them, her body molding against his as if drawn by an unseen force. A sigh left her lips as she rested her cheek against his shoulder, letting herself sink into the warmth of him, of the moment. 

She hummed. “Of course. You practically glow in the sun - like a feline.” 

A sudden pinch at her hip makes her squeal, laughter bubbling from her throat as she tries pushing him away, her hands pressed against his chest. He only tightened his hold, pulling her even closer, silencing her giggles with a kiss that stole the breath straight from her lungs. 

Their lips hovered, teasing, their words nothing more than whispers against the soft curve of each other’s mouths. 

“Are you calling me an enchanting feline?”

Her fingers found his hair ,carding through the silken strands, untangling the knots sleep had left behind. His eyes, green as polished emeralds, gazed at her like she had hung the stars themselves. 

“Of course not,” she said, voice softer now, reverent. She let her fingers trail down, curling at the nape of his neck. 

“You’re my enchanting husband.”

“Your husband is dead.” 

The world is muffled, nothing registers in her head as the same words echo in her head over and over again. 

The words were distant, muffled, as if spoken through water. They echoed in her mind, looping over and over, a cruel, inescapable refrain. 

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

Your husband is dead. 

She falls apart in the parlor room of her house. 

She collapses in the parlor, the weight of those words tearing her apart at the seams. 

She searched - Gods, she searched. Every alleyway, every dim-lit tavern, every shadowed corner of the city. She scoured the streets until her boots split at the seams, until her hands were caked in filth, until grief hollowed her cheeks and darkened her eyes. She pleaded with the Flaming Fist, her voice raw from desperation, begging them to look harder, to do more. 

Weeks dragged into months. And then, one day, they stopped looking. 

Bile rose in her throat, spilling onto the floor in a sickening splatter as she doubled over on the couch. The room spun, too loud, too quiet, too dull. Through blurred vision, she barely registered the subtle grimaces behind the thin veil of sympathy. 

Hands settled on her, cradling her like a wounded thing, whispering empty comforts. Hollow reassurances that everything would be alright. But how could anything be alright when everything was lost? 

The words didn’t feel real. They were an ill-fitting mask over an unbearable truth, easier to swallow than the vast, gaping unknown. Bandits. Wild Beasts. A moment of misfortune that stole him away. But there was nothing. No body. No proof. Just a verdict, wrapped in empty condolences. 

The home the had built together became a mausoleum, haunted by laughter that no longer filled its halls. Days blurred together, each one as lifeless as the last. Friends told her to grieve, to let go, to move on. 

But how could she, when there was no grave to mourn over?

She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. 

The hearth consumes the room in a comfortable warmth, the heat fighting off the chill that comes along with the night air. 

The hearth bathed the room in golden light, its warmth chasing away the lingering chill of the night. The fire crackled and popped, filling the silence with its steady rhythm, its flickering glow bright enough for her to make out the inked words on the pages of her book. 

She nestled deeper into the maroon velvet of the chaise lounge, the fabric soft against her skin. A cotton blanket draped over her frame, cocooning her in comfort. It was a quiet night, peaceful. Or at least, it had been.

The ornate wooden doors of the manor opened with a soft creak, followed by the unmistakable sound of his groan echoing through the halls - frustrated, tired. The noise grew louder as he made his way toward her, his presence a storm rolling in to disturb the calm.

She didn’t look up when he rounded the couch, didn’t shift her attention from the book in her hands even as his briefcase hit the floor with a muted thud. 

“How was work, my love? She asked, voice lilting with amusement. 

Rather than answer immediately, he slotted himself between her legs, resting his head against her lower stomach with a dramatic sigh. His groan vibrated against her skin, and she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. One hand fell from her book, fingers threading lazily through his hair. 

“I take it that it went well?”

He scoffed, shifting just enough that she could feel the eye rolls that accompanied it. 

“Oh, of course,” he drawled, “If you consider imbeciles squabbling over meaningless matters without reaching a single useful conclusion, then yes - today was absolutely splendid.”

Her shoulders bounces in silent laughter as she flipped the page. Before she could read another word, the book was plucked from her hands, stolen in one swift motion. She barely had time to protest before he spoke again. 

“Let’s go somewhere.”

She arched a brow as he propped his chin on her stomach, gazing up at her. Absentmindedly, her fingers trailed from his hair to cradle his cheek, thumb sweeping gently across his cheekbone. 

“And where exactly would we go?” 

He sighed as if the answer should have been obvious. “Anywhere.” His brow furrowed, lips pressing into a soft pout. Looking up at her through his lashes, he murmured, “Let’s just leave. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere it’s just us. I want uninterrupted time with you, away from- “ he groaned again, “gods-damned idiots.”

She hummed, feigning contemplation, “Anywhere?”

His eyes brightened, brimming with something she was sure she mirrored back at him. Love. He looked like a child promised a long-awaited treat, excitement shimmering in his gaze. 

“Anywhere,” he confirmed, nodding eagerly. 

She exhaled a quiet laugh. “I suppose we can- when we get the chance.” 

His grin was instant, sharp and boyish, his joy utterly unrestrained. Before she could say more, he pushed himself up, leaning in just enough to steal a kiss- brief but lingering, leaving her chasing the ghost of it as he pulled away. 

“It’s settled, then. I’ll handle things at work, and once it’s all arranged, we’ll go.”

Tilting her head, she watched him, bemused by the way he practically glowed with anticipation. “You make it sound as if this trip is going to be enchanting.”

He dropped to his knees before her, fingers curling around her hands with reverence, as if she were something fragile, something sacred. Her heart stuttered, warmth rushing to her cheeks. 

“Oh, it will be,” he murmured, lips curving into something sly. “As enchanting as a feline.”

She huffed an incredulous laugh, ready to tease him, only for the words to die in her throat as he lifted her hand to his lips. His mouth pressed softly against her knuckles - against the delicate band of silver circling her finger. 

His voice was barely more than a whisper, a vow spoken against her skin. 

“For you, I would do anything. Any chance I got.”

But they never got their chance. 

The carriage swayed with the uneven rhythm of the dirt road, jostling her body with every dip and rise. She barely noticed. Her fingers twisted her wedding band absently, rolling the cool metal over her skin again and again as she gazed out the window. The forest stretched endlessly beyond the glass, its foreign trees casting long shadows in the fading light. 

She had left everything behind. Sold everything she owned in pursuit of a ghost. The acceptance others poke of never came, nor did the quiet surrender that grief was meant to bring. How could she believe he was gone when there was no proof? No body, no grave - only silence. Her heart had never settled. Her future had become a weight, a chore she carried rather than a path she walked with purpose. 

So she had set out, wordlessly, determined to reclaim what had been stolen from her

Two hundred years.

Two hundred years of searching, of chasing whispers across the vast expanse of Faerûn. SHe scoured city after city, hired investigators, pleaded with mercenaries, begged the gods themselves. Each inquiry ended the same.

“Sorry. We couldn’t find anything about your husband.”

Again and again, the words repeated until they were carved in her bones, hollowing her out with every rejection. Slowly, hope had withered. And with it, her very soul. 

Then, when she had nothing left - when she had stood at the edge of a balcony, staring down the yawning abyss below - she overheard the murmured conversation of tenants beneath her. A city saved. Heroes who had risen from the darkness to pull Baldur’s Gate back from the brink. 

It was a city she had never searched, one she had long dismissed as too distant, too unlikely. But hope, weak and flickering, ignited once more. If he wasn’t there, then perhaps these so-called heroes could help. 

She had stepped away from the ledge and set out that very night. 

“We’re here. My lady.”

The driver’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She barely acknowledged him as she stepped from the carriage, pressing the free into his hands without a word. He thanked her, but she was already walking.

Before her stood the great gates of Baldur’s Gate, scarred by battle, the remnants of war still etched into the stone. And beyond them - a sight unlike any other. 

Fae, humans, tieflings, githyanki, orcs, halflings, dragonborn, dwarfs, drow - so many walking the streets, their lives intertwining in a way that made the city feel more alive than any she had visited before. But beneath the movement, beneath the rebuilding, there was a quiet grief that settled over the people like dust. She recognized it well. 

No one spared her a second glance. Not for her sullen expression, not for the way her clothes hung from her frame, weathered by wind and rain. The rich burgundy fabric of her gown had dulled with time, its once - soft texture long since roughened by travel. But she had never cared for the stares, nor the whispered opinions of those who thought a woman should not cross the realm in such impractical clothing. 

Her dress had been tailored for survival - study linen layers beneath flowing skirts allowed for swift movement, hidden slits cut along the sides ensuring she could run, ride, fight if she needed to. A wide leather belt cinched her waist, pouches filled with coin, letters, maps, herbs, and the one thing she never parted with. 

A single, tattered parchment. 

Her fingers brushed over it through the fabric. She never unfolded it anymore - couldn’t bear to. Time had stolen most of the image, leaving only the faintest remnants behind. But his face remained. Always. Smiling down at her blurred form, forever untouched by the years that had worn her down to nothing.

A deep-hooded cloak, midnight blue and heaving with the weight of travel, draped over her shoulders, shielding her from both the elements and prying eyes. Her boots, laced to her knees, were scuffed but strong, having carried her across cobblestones, through forests, over mountains. The only ornament she still wore was the one that mattered most. 

Her wedding ring. 

Cheers and applause rang through the streets, drawing her attention. A crowd had gathered in the square, their voices an excited hum of anticipation. She approached on instinct, weaving through the bodies, catching snippets of conversation. The heroes of Baldur’s Gate. 

Then, with a flourish, the massive linen covering the crowded monument was pulled away. 

A statue stood beneath it, towering over the gathered crowd, the figures carved in stone were unfamiliar - strangers cast in heroism. But then her eyes caught a familiar curl, a detail so small yet unmistakable. 

The world shifted. 

Her breath came short, uneven, a trembling exhale past her lips as her hands fumbled for her belt. Her fingers found the parchment, carefully unfolding the delicate edges, barely breathing as she held it up beside the statue. 

Her vision blurred, darting between the image in her hands and the face carved in stone. 

It was him.

“Wow! That image looks great! Where did you get that?:

She jolted, nearly dropping the parchment at the sudden voice. Her head snapped to the side, meeting the keen, amused gaze of a tiefling woman, 

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she forced her voice to work, though it came out broken, trembling. “You…You know this man?”

She clutched the image close to her chest, as if afraid it would be taken from her.

The tiefling grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “Who doesn’t? That’s Astarion!”

A sob tore from her throat before she could stop it. 

The tiefling’s expression shifted from amusement to alarm as she stumbled back slightly, uncertain how to react. Awkwardly, she patted her shoulder, offering hesitant comfort. 

But nothing else mattered. 

It was him

It was Astarion. 

“Doesn’t this whole ordeal seem rather…unnecessary?”

Astarion’s voice dripped with amused skepticism as he stood beside her in the grand wedding hall, his arms loosely at his side. His wife-to-be arched a brow, tilting her head to look up at him, arms crossed over the intricate bodice of her gown. 

“Are you telling me that wanting a painting of this moment is pointless?”

Astarion blinked, momentarily caught off guard. His lips parted, the sharp edges of his teeth flashing as he realized his misstep. 

“No!” The word shot out of him in haste. “I just don’t see the appeal. Why capture us in paint when you can gaze upon my magnificence whenever you please?”

He puffed his chest with theatrical pride, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. 

She clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes as she playfully smacked his chest. “I want a painting to remember this day, Astarion. It’s not as though I can wear a gown like this every day.”

His gaze flickered to the silent painter, whose brush moved in steady strokes across parchment, capturing their every detail. Then, inevitably, his eyes found her again. 

She was radiant. 

The gown she wore was a masterpiece of moonlight and devotion, woven from dreams and stitched with quiet reverence. Soft ivory fabric rippled with her every movement, delicate yet unyielding - much like the woman who wore it. Silver embroidery curled along the bodice like ivy climbing an ancient trellis, glimmering under the light, a quiet tribute to the stars beneath which they had once whispered their vows. 

The sheer sleeves draped over her arms like mist rolling over the sea, tapering into fitted cuffs embroidered with ancient runes of love and protection. The skirt cascaded around her in layered waves, each panel split to allow freedom - because she was never one to be caged, not even by tradition. And beneath it all, the faintest glimpse of deep red silk peeked through every step, a secret only the wind and her beloved would see. 

Astarion’s arms slipped around her waist, drawing her closer. She turned easily in his hold, gazing up at him with an expectant look - waiting for him to redeem himself. 

His fingers trailed along the line of her spine, his voice lowering to a teasing murmur. “I wouldn’t be opposed to you wearing this every day?”

She hummed in mock consideration, her hands smoothing over his shoulders, tracing the fine fabric of his own wedding attire. “Really? And would you wear this every day?”

His coat was a study in elegance, the deep midnight hie reminiscent of a sky on the cusp of twilight. Tailored to perfection, it framed him effortlessly, the silver embroidery tracing the high collar and cuffs like constellations mapping the heavens. It was a quiet nod to the night he had first whispered his love to her beneath the stars. Beneath the coat, a dark crimson waistcoat clung to his form, the color rich yet subtle - like aged wine, like the bloom of roses, like the depth of passion he could never quite put into words. His trousers, dark as shadow, were tucked into polished leather boots, completing the look as man both regal and untamed. 

Astarion looked skyward in feigned contemplation, biting the inside of this cheek. “Even though I do look devastatingly grand,” he admitted, “I suppose it would be a terrible inconvenience for everyday wear.”

She laughed, and the sound sent a ripple of warmth through him. It was music - an immortal melody he would never tire of. 

His grin widened as he pulled her impossibly closer, reveling in the mirth between them, in the love that bound them tighter than any vow ever could.

The painter, silent and steady, allowed himself the barest of smiles as he etched the moment onto parchment - a portrait not of nobility or grandeur, but of devotion, of adoration, of a love that would endure beyond the confines of time.  

She had spent the entire day tearing through the city, asking - no, begging - for someone, anyone to tell her where she could find Astarion. But no one knew. No one even seemed certain where the other so-called heroes of Baldur’s Gate were, or if they still lingered within the city walls. 

Her heart felt heavy as if it were a stone in her chest. There was no way this was a coincidence where a man that looked just like him happened to be the hero of Baldur’s Gate. Questions flooded her mind, swallowing her head whole. Where had he been this whole time? Did he simply just leave her? Why did he never reach out to her? Was he alright? 

With every unanswered question, her heart sank deeper, heavy as a tone lodged in her chest. It couldn’t be coincidence - there was no way. A man who looked exactly like him, standing among the city’s saviors, bearing the name she had whispered a thousand times in her loneliness? It had to be him. It had to be. 

By the time night had fallen, the bustling streets had emptied, lanterns flickering along the roads in a warm glow that did little to ease the cold settling within her. The city, once alive with energy, had quieted, its liveliness slipping into shadows. And she - she felt just as empty. 

She wandered without direction, cursing the gods for filling her with hope only to rip it away once more. 

A harsh breath shuddered through her, and she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes until she saw stars, willing the rising grief back down her throat. She needed to stop. Needed to find a place to rest. Needed- 

“I had heard a woman was looking for me all day…but to think she was so persistent she’d still be out this late into the night.”

Her entire body went rigid. The voice came from behind her, smooth, familiar, yet laced with something…different. 

Slowly, she turned, her breath caught somewhere between her lungs and lips. 

And there he was, standing before him, but it wasn’t him all the same. 

The night clung to him like an old lover, and he had dressed to match its embrace - sharp, elegant, and just dangerous enough to make it thrilling.

His coat, deep as the void between stars, fit his frame as though sculpture for him alone. The high collar framed his jawline, silver embroidery curling along the lapels and cuffs, catching in the dim glow of the lanterns. He had never cared for unnecessary fastenings, and it seemed like he still did not - the coat remained open, revealing a waistcoat of deep crimson silk, rich and smooth as spilled wine. Beneath it, his shirt was a whisper of pale linen, barely fastened at the collar, as though formality had never quite suited him. 

His sleeves were fitted, stopping just as his wrists, where rings of silver and blackened iron gleamed against his pale fingers. His trousers, dark as shadow, moved with him, fluid and effortless, allowing both grace and lethality in equal measure. They tucked neatly into polished leather boots, laced tight to his knees. 

He was still beautiful. Still striking. Still- 

Her gaze dropped to his hands.

She stopped breathing

Among the trinkets and rings, among the trophies of a life she did not know, sat a single band of silver. 

Her wedding ring. The one she had placed on his finger all those years ago. 

She swallowed hard, her voice barely more than a whisper against the night.

“Is it you?”

His ears twitched at the sound of her voice, his jaw tightening as he met her gaze, recognition flashing in his eyes. A single, sharp breath left him as he bit down hard on his lips, willing the emotions away. 

She took a step forward, hesitant but unable to stop herself. He was different now - so painfully different. His skin was pale, too pale. His eyes, once warm, were now an unnatural shade of crimson. And at his throat, the scar of two puncture wounds sat like cruel reminders of something stolen..

Yet she kept walking. Closer. Closer, until only a breath separated them, until all she had to do was lift her hand and- 

“You look different,” she murmured, her voice softer than she meant it to be. 

Astarion inhaled sharply. 

He fought the instinct to reach for her, to pull her into his arms and never let go. Fought the urge to grasp onto the one thing that had ever made him feel human. The woman who had saved him time and time again without ever knowing. 

His memories had been fragmented, buried beneath time and centuries of torment. But her - her touch, her voice, her scent, like the first breath of spring - he had never truly forgotten. Not even when everything else had slipped through his fingers like sand.

Yet now, standing before him, she looked…broken. Her clothes were tattered, her body worn with the weight of grief he knew all too well. She had searched for him. For two hundred years, she had searched. 

And what had he done?

He had let her believe he was gone.

Her hand lifted. Slowly, cautiously. He hesitated, uncertain - until, finally, he let her take it. 

The moment her fingers curled around his, she flinched.

His stomach churned.

She hadn’t expected his touch to be so cold. And gods, how that realization twisted something deep inside him.

He wanted to run. Run from his guilt, his sins, the weight of what he had become. But he had promised himself - when he finally killed his tormentor, when he freed himself - that he would stop running. 

Even if it killed him. 

“You eyes are tired,” she murmured, searching his face. “Your frame lighter. Your smile torn.”

A lump formed in his throat. 

He could hear her heartbeat, rapid and uneven, like a caged hummingbird. 

Then came the question. Soft. Fragile. 

“Is it really you, my love?

His breath hitched. His voice - gods, his voice, usually so smooth, so full of confidence - shook as he answered. 

“I am not the man you fell in love with. I am not the man you once adorned. I am not you kind and gentle husband. And I am not the love you knew before.”

He turned away from her. He couldn’t beat to see the pain in her face, the way her hope cracked like glass beneath his words. 

Shame clawed through him. Not just for the past she did not yet know, but for the time he had wasted, for never trying to find her. He had been free for months now, and not once had he tried. Perhaps, deep down, he had feared what he would find. Feared what his absence had done to her. 

A hand touched his cheek, warm against the cold.

His eyes fluttered shut. Instinctively, he leaned into her palm, the way he had so many times before. 

When he opened them again, she was smiling. Soft. Loving. 

Tears brimmed at her lashes.

“I still think you look rather enchanting,” she whispered.

A shaky scoff left him, something akin to a laugh. “As enchanting as a feline?”

She let out a broken laugh of her own, inhaling sharply. “That’s…weird. That’s something only my husband would say.”

He didn’t think. He just moved, pulling her against him, arms tightening as though she might vanish if he let go. 

She sobbed into his chest, body shaking with the force of it. He buried his face in her hair, and for the second time in centuries, he let himself cry willingly. 

She pulled back just enough to cradle his face in her hands, thumbs wiping away his silent tears. 

“I will fall in love with you over and over again,” she swore, her voice trembling. “I don’t care how, where, or when. No matter how long it’s been, you’re mine. Please…” she choked on her own breath. “Don’t tell me you’re not the same person. You’ll always be my husband. And gods, Astarion, I have been waiting for so long.”

His lips parted, but no words came. 

So he held her again. 

He had so much to tell her. So much she needed to know.

But for now, he would hold her. 

Because after waiting for two hundred years…

She had finally found him. 

[be-ee]

𐙚| Rest

𐙚A/N: be-ee’s once in a blue moon Thoma Fic. This has been rotting in drafts…🧍‍♀️

What very few people in the Kamisato household knew was that Thoma rarely ever slept. No, instead, he stood up, closed his eyes for around thirteen minutes, and called that a power nap. It was a miracle he functioned at all. But no one ever questioned it—how could they? Thoma was a force akin to the sun, always bright, always warm, always moving.  

That was, until Y/n noticed the subtle dark circles under his eyes.  

She watched as he moved through the estate with his usual energy, flashing easy smiles and handling every task thrown his way. But there was something off—something almost invisible if she wasn’t paying attention. The way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly, the way his movements weren’t quite as effortless as usual. And most of all, the tiredness in his eyes, hidden behind layers of practiced cheerfulness.  

"Thoma," Y/n called gently, stepping into his path just as he was about to rush past her.  

He paused, tilting his head. "Yeah?"  

She folded her arms. "When's the last time you took a break?"  

Thoma blinked, clearly not expecting the question. Then, as if on instinct, he smiled. "Oh, don't worry about me. I'm good!"  

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "That's not an answer."  

He let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "There's just a lot to do, you know? I’ll rest later—"  

"How about now?" she interrupted, her voice warm but firm. Before he could protest, she gently took his wrist and led him toward a quiet sitting area.  

Thoma hesitated, but something about the way she looked at him—soft yet unwavering—made him relent. With a sigh, he sat down, leaning back slightly against the cushions.  

Y/n disappeared for a moment and returned with a pillow, setting it beside him before sitting down herself. "Lie down," she murmured, patting the spot next to her. "I used to do this for my siblings when they couldn’t sleep."  

Thoma blinked at her, lips parting slightly. "Do what?"  

Instead of answering, Y/n waited for him to settle before reaching out, fingers threading carefully through his golden hair. Her touch was light, soothing, massaging small, slow circles against his scalp.  

Thoma stiffened at first, caught off guard by the tenderness of it. But then—gradually—his body relaxed, the exhaustion he had been pushing down finally catching up to him.  

"See?" Y/n murmured, still combing her fingers through his hair. "Nothing wrong with resting every once in a while."  

A quiet hum filled the space between them. It took Thoma a moment to realize it was Y/n, her voice soft and lulling as she hummed a tune he didn’t recognize. Something warm settled in his chest, a feeling so unfamiliar yet so comforting he didn’t have the energy to resist it.  

The last thing he registered before sleep finally took him was the steady rhythm of Y/n’s hand in his hair and the soothing melody carrying him into dreams.

[hanijangg]

Opposite Yet Together 𐙚

pairing: twin brother jeonghan! x twin sister oc! ⊹ ࣪ ˖

genre: fluff

word count: 681

warnings: none

author's note- It's my first time writing a story about siblings, especially twins so please cut me some slacks. If this story goes well then I will be releasing a part 2⊹ ⊹

Despite being twins, Jeonghan and Julia Yoon were like night and day. If Jeonghan was the sun—warm, bright, and constantly moving—Julia was the moon, quiet, steady, and shining in her own way. Their differences were clear to everyone at their university, but so was their unbreakable bond.

Jeonghan, a business major, was the type to make friends within seconds. He could strike up a conversation with anyone, whether it was his professors, classmates, or even the janitor passing by. He was also the golden boy of the university’s sports teams, excelling in basketball and soccer. Everyone saw him as the friendly, sweet gentleman, the guy you could count on for a comforting smile or an encouraging word.

Julia, on the other hand, was different. As an architecture student, she preferred silence over small talk, her sketchpad over socializing. She wasn’t unkind, but she had an air of coldness around her, a sharp contrast to Jeonghan’s easy-going nature. While he was chatty and playful, she was observant and direct. And unlike Jeonghan, who sometimes avoided conflicts, Julia had no problem standing up for herself or for him.

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Even though their buildings were on opposite ends of the university, Jeonghan and Julia were always seen together. Whether it was during lunch, breaks, or even just random moments in the day, they’d find each other.

“Shouldn’t you be at the student council office?” Jeonghan asked one afternoon as he jogged up to her outside the library. He had just finished basketball practice, his hair damp with sweat.

“I was,” Julia replied without looking up from her sketchbook. “Finished early. You?”

“Practice ended. I wanted to see if you’d eat with me.”

Julia glanced up and sighed. “Let me guess. You forgot your wallet again?”

Jeonghan grinned sheepishly. “Maybe.”

She rolled her eyes but still packed up her things. “Come on, let’s go.”

Jeonghan, despite his athletic abilities and social charm, was a little scatterbrained. He was the type to get distracted easily, whether it was by a friend calling out to him or something random catching his attention. Julia, on the other hand, was focused. Once she was working on something, nothing could pull her away.

“By the way, I heard you won another competition,” Jeonghan said as they walked. “Vice President, top of your class, and now an award-winning architect in the making. You make me look bad, Jules.”

She smirked. “Well, someone has to keep the family’s reputation intact.”

He gasped dramatically. “Are you saying I’m a disgrace?”

“I’m saying I work harder,” she teased, nudging him.

Jeonghan pouted. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know I won MVP in last week’s game. Maybe I should be the family’s pride.”

“You already are,” she said simply. “Just in a different way.”

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Though Julia was known for her cold demeanor, when it came to Jeonghan, she was always fiercely protective. She had seen how he struggled to stand up for himself sometimes, and she never hesitated to step in when needed.

One day, she overheard a few students making snide remarks about Jeonghan.

“He’s too soft. How did he even make it into the business world?”

Julia set her sketchbook down and turned toward them. “Maybe because he actually has talent,” she said flatly, making the group freeze.

One of them scoffed. “It’s just a joke. No need to be so serious.”

Julia arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Because it sounded like you were just insecure about how well-liked he is.”

The group quickly muttered excuses and left, and when Jeonghan found out later, he groaned. “Jules, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did.”

“You’re gonna make people think you’re scary.”

She shrugged. “Good.”

Jeonghan shook his head but smiled. “Well, thanks.”

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Despite being opposites, Jeonghan and Julia understood each other better than anyone else. They balanced each other out—his warmth softened her sharp edges, and her strength gave him courage.

At the end of the day, no matter how different their worlds were, they always found their way back to each other.