#pendant bell lights
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Great Room - Kitchen
A large transitional l-shaped open concept kitchen design example with a medium tone wood floor, an undermount sink, beaded inset cabinets, white cabinets, concrete countertops, paneled appliances, and an island.
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Great Room - Kitchen
A large transitional l-shaped open concept kitchen design example with a medium tone wood floor, an undermount sink, beaded inset cabinets, white cabinets, concrete countertops, paneled appliances, and an island.
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Great Room - Kitchen
A large transitional l-shaped open concept kitchen design example with a medium tone wood floor, an undermount sink, beaded inset cabinets, white cabinets, concrete countertops, paneled appliances, and an island.
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Grand Rapids Great Room Kitchen
Example of a large transitional l-shaped medium tone wood floor open concept kitchen design with an undermount sink, beaded inset cabinets, white cabinets, concrete countertops, paneled appliances and an island
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Great Room in Grand Rapids
Example of a large transitional l-shaped medium tone wood floor open concept kitchen design with an undermount sink, beaded inset cabinets, white cabinets, concrete countertops, paneled appliances and an island
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Great Room - Kitchen
A large transitional l-shaped open concept kitchen design example with a medium tone wood floor, an undermount sink, beaded inset cabinets, white cabinets, concrete countertops, paneled appliances, and an island.
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Great Room - Kitchen
A large transitional l-shaped open concept kitchen design example with a medium tone wood floor, an undermount sink, beaded inset cabinets, white cabinets, concrete countertops, paneled appliances, and an island.
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Great Room - Kitchen A large transitional l-shaped open concept kitchen design example with a medium tone wood floor, an undermount sink, beaded inset cabinets, white cabinets, concrete countertops, paneled appliances, and an island.
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This is a stylish pendant to perfectly adorn any space. #WhiteKitchenCabinets
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The Apartment Copenhagen - Part One
Happy July Everyone!
A little later than planned, but I'm happy to finally be able to release part one of this set. I really didn't want to rush the colouration process as it is really the highlight of a set like this. I took the opportunity to create a whole new colour palette of colours as the foundation for this set (wood tones match all previous sets). During my research I kept on seeing these amazing pastel colours combined and so I decided to not be afraid to use colour with these items. Of course you can still have those calm neutral interiors, but I do encourage you to try and experiment with a little colour 😉
Items Include:
Medium Window (Open & Closed)
Tall Window (Open & Closed)
Double Door Medium (Open & Closed)
Double Door Tall (Open & Closed)
Single Door (Open & Closed)
Apartment Door
Apartment Door Bell & Plaque
Painted Wall (50 Swatches)
Danish Panelled Walls (50 Swatches)
Swedish Panelled Walls (50 Swatches)
Ceiling Paint
Timber Flooring (Paint & Wood)
Ceiling Rose
All items are Base Game compatible and the majority can be found by searching with the keyword Apt Copenhagen in the b/b catalogue. However the walls and floors have to be found manually in their respective categories.
💡Pro Tip: Ceilings can appear very dark in game, but using pendant lighting or uplighters on the wall can reduce this as they cast light upwards. However those gorgeous tiny spot lights we all like to use do not do that job so well.
Now Available on Patreon Early Access
Public Release: 12th September
#ts4cc download#ts4ccfinds#heyharrie#ts4 maxis match#harriecc#ts4cc#ts4mm#ts4 scandi#ts4mmcc#ts4 maxis match cc#sims 4 cc#ts4 custom content#ts4 cc#s4cc#sims 4 custom content#my cc
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New Orleans Galley Mid-sized modern galley with a travertine floor and gray walls, a seated home bar, flat-panel cabinets, dark wood cabinets, glass countertops, a backsplash made of matchstick tiles, and an undermount sink
#vaulted ceilings#glass island bar#dark wood home bar#concrete walls#flat panel cabients#pendant bell lighting
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Kansas City Home Bar L-Shape Seated home bar - large transitional l-shaped seated home bar idea with glass-front cabinets, beige cabinets, granite countertops, beige backsplash and mirror backsplash
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Mudroom in Philadelphia Large image of a transitional foyer with white front door, brown walls, and porcelain tile.
#shaker cabinets#dark brown accent wall#mud room large#french style window#white window trim#pendant bell lighting#mudroom
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Home Bar Galley Mid-sized trendy galley travertine floor and gray floor seated home bar photo with an undermount sink, flat-panel cabinets, dark wood cabinets, glass countertops, multicolored backsplash and matchstick tile backsplash
#home bar ideas#built in home bar#dark wood home bar#modern home bar#pendant bell lighting#matchstick tile backsplash
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best friends mom ambessa? perchance? love ur fics 🤍
⋆ you made me crazy, you made me wild.
best friend's mother!ambessa x curvy!f!reader. men & minors dni.
synopsis: a psychic once told you you'd have the kind of love that would mark you for the rest of your life. did it have to be with your best friend's mother?
cw: milf!bessa, age difference, older woman/younger woman, modern au, you and mel are best friends, long rich people vacations, curvy!reader, reader is implied to be a woc but you can still read regardless, forbidden love, sneaking around, vaping bc i have an oral fixation however i have never once smoked i just like the vibe i fear, non-sexual intimacy, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, overstimulation (bessa!receiving, r!recieving), multiple orgasms, tribbing, cunnilingus (bessa!receiving), you go to town on her my god, squirting (bessaaaa does it), tender sex, floor sex, manhandling, light angst, friendship breakups, angst with a happy ending.
notes: perchance is killing me. thank you so much for being so sweet mami. hope you enjoy. also, don't vape kids!
you and mel haven't spoken in three weeks.
the thought sits heavy in your chest as you perch on the window seat of your boutique, one leg tucked beneath you, the other dangling lazily. your cream silk camisole rides up your belly, catching on the velvet cushions behind you. outside, venice beach awakens like a lioness stretching in the sun, all languid and golden.
the brass bell above your door chimes softly in the morning breeze. your fingers find your vape – a delicate thing of gold, engraved with climbing roses – and bring it to your lips in a motion as natural as breathing.
the sweet ghost of vanilla mango curls around you like a familiar lover. you've always needed something between your lips, a fact that amuses your friends and once made ambessa raise an eyebrow in that way that sent heat flooding through your body.
the recent mornings have been sadder and slower than most, though objectively one wouldn’t be able to tell. you keep waking in fits, your body heavy with mourning. your reflection in the shop window shows what you've become in her absence: curves nestled in vintage, mussed hair tumbling past your shoulders, lips stained the color of crushed berries.
a crystal pendant nestles in the soft valley between your breasts, and your rings catch the light as you fidget with the hemline of your denim cutoffs. there's nothing calculated about your appearance today – no performance or intention. it's as honest as you can muster this morning.
the wooden floor creaks beneath your bare feet as you move to arrange a display of moonstone rings. your own fingers are adorned with gold bands, each one telling a story of who you were before that summer in england. before mel, before her mother and that library with its leather-bound books and muggy afternoons, before you watched her, endeared as she peered at her phone with those sunglasses perched on the top of her head.
before you realized that the soft animal of your body had found its home in the worst fucking lineage alive.
your phone lights up again – another message from mel. her name on the screen sends a fresh wave of guilt through you, but not regret. never regret. not about the way her mother’s hands felt on your waist in the conservatory, not about the first kiss that tasted of chlorine and whiskey, not even about the screaming match that ended with you on a plane back to california.
you take another long drag from your vape, watching the morning light fracture through hanging crystals into rainbow patterns across your skin. the salt air mingles with your perfume – something expensive and european that ambessa had picked out because she liked to dress you like a little doll, build your body up.
a customer pushes open the door, sending the brass bell into a symphony, and you unfold yourself from the window seat. your reflection shows a woman who knows exactly who she is – soft-bodied but steel-spined, tarnished but holding out for healing.
you tuck the vape into a vintage ceramic dish beside your register, next to the rose quartz crystal your psychic insisted would bring your true love back to you. you're not sure you believe it, but you keep it close anyway, just in case the universe is listening.
the customer's voice hits you like a wave – crisp, cultured british vowels discussing the merits of different pieces. it's nothing like ambessa's voice, really, but it's enough to send you tumbling back into that summer, that first day when everything changed.
𓇼
mel had been waiting at heathrow, practically vibrating with anxiety, her locs spun into a tight chignon at the nape of her neck—a nervous habit since childhood. you'd fallen into each other's arms like you always did, all tears and high laughter, ignoring the disapproving looks from passing businessmen. it was the same way you'd hugged since you were five, sharing grape juice boxes and childish fantasies on the playground.
"it's just a little cottage in the countryside," mel had said on facetime, twisting her initial necklace. "very quaint, very english. you'll probably think it's charming." what she hadn't mentioned was that her "cottage" was actually a sprawling estate that made downton abbey look modest.
honey-colored stone stretched towards the sky, windows gleaming like diamonds in the afternoon sun. the gravel drive seemed endless, winding through gardens that swallowed the sun within their towering walls. it must’ve been a dream to grow up here, small feet tumbling through the mazes and nothing but the entire world before you. your hand was still clasped in hers on the gearshift of her vintage mercedes, just like always, but you could feel her fingers trembling slightly.
"mom's probably in the library," mel said, killing the engine. "she's got this thing about afternoon light."
she chewed her lip, a habit you recognized from exam days and first dates.
"just… don't take it personally if she's a bit… well, you know. she can be kind of intense. dad always says she's an acquired taste."
you remember adjusting your dress, a red-and-white gingham number that clung delicately to your stomach. the bow at the bust had come undone at least three times that morning, and the skirt, airy and flared, fluttered in the slightest breeze. it felt a little too simple, too worn for the looming grandeur of mel’s childhood home, but you hadn’t thought to pack anything else. besides, something was grounding about it—the way the cotton pressed against your skin, the familiar weight of the straps on your shoulders, like it was trying to remind you who you were.
you followed mel through halls lined with oil paintings and antiquities. your sandals clicked against marble floors, echoing off high ceilings. everything smelled overwhelmingly of jasmine and time passed, the atmosphere practically bloated by money’s touch.
and then there was ambessa.
she stood in a shaft of golden light, tall and elegant in a cream linen suit that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe. silver threaded through her dark hair which was braided down into a neat, long plait and when she turned, her eyes caught yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. your psychic's words echoed in your head – "your palm reads of a love that will shake you. stand fast, girl." – and something in your chest shifted, like tectonic plates realigning.
"mom, this is my best friend," mel was saying, but her voice seemed to come from very far away. you noticed how she shifted her weight from foot to foot, how her fingers twisted in the waistband of her maxi skirt. "the one i've been telling you about."
ambessa's handshake was firm, her skin warm against yours.
"welcome to our home," she said, and her voice – god, her voice was like honey over gravel, like smoke and leather. "i trust you'll find everything… adequate."
you managed to say something appropriate, probably, though you couldn't remember what. all you could focus on was the way ambessa's eyes lingered on the wide basket of your waist, the delicate line of your collarbone, the pearl drop nestled between your breasts. it felt like a cigarette dragged slowly across your skin.
later, sprawled across mel's massive bed like you used to do at sleepovers, both of you tipsy on expensive wine stolen from the cellar, mel talked about her latest boyfriend drama – some posh boy from oxford who couldn't commit – while you traced patterns on her linen sheets. but your mind kept drifting to the library, to ambessa's knowing smile, to the way she'd looked at you over dinner like you were a deer she very much wanted to fell.
you didn't know then that those looks would become your undoing.
𓇼
you couldn't sleep that first week, your body stubbornly running on pacific time. the massive house creaked and whispered at night, all those endless corridors filled with shadows. you'd taken to wandering, padding through the halls in your cotton shorts and an old guns & roses tee, your thick hair piled high in a silk scarf that your grandmother had taught you to wrap just so.
that's how she found you the third night, curled up in the window seat of the informal library (because of course there were multiple libraries), reading the beautiful and damned by phone light. your bare legs were tucked up under you, painted toes peeking out, a half-eaten peach leaving sticky fingerprints on the pages.
"fitzgerald at three in the morning?" her voice was rough with sleep, but still commanding. ambessa stood in the doorway in a black silk robe that made your mouth go dry, her hair loose around her shoulders. "how terribly american of you."
"can't sleep," you drawled, your accent thick and lazy in the quiet. "time zones are, like, totally brutal."
the ghost of a smile touched her lips at your exaggerated californian lilt, and something warm unfurled in your chest when her eyes lingered on your face, studying you with a naked interest that made your skin prickle.
it became a ritual after that – you in your sun-faded pajamas, her in sophisticated sleepwear that probably cost more than your rent. she'd pour two fingers of sherry ("none of that silly wine you girls keep stealing." “yeah, sorry about that.”), and you'd talk about everything and nothing.
you told her about your boutique—at the time—dream, about learning to make jewelry from an old hippie who read tarot cards on the boardwalk. she spoke of art acquisitions and board meetings, but sometimes, when the night grew soft and heavy around you, she'd share pieces of herself that felt like an easy glimpse into your future.
mel noticed, of course she did.
"mum’s different with you," she said one afternoon, watching you apply coconut oil to your sun-warmed skin by the pool. her voice was careful, measured in a way that made your stomach twist. "she actually laughs at your jokes. she never laughs at anyone's jokes."
you hummed noncommittally, pretending to be absorbed in moisturizing. but you could feel mel's eyes on you, the same sharp gaze she'd inherited from her mother, taking in how you'd started wearing your nicest pajama sets to your nighttime wanderings, how you'd borrowed one of her expensive face creams "just to test it out."
during the days, you'd lounge in the massive gardens with mel, your skin deepening to further in the english sun while she talked less and less about her boyfriend's drama and more about how strange it was to see her mother so… present. but at night – at night you belonged to the library, to raspy-voiced conversations and loaded silences, to the way ambessa's eyes would trace the crescent of your folded body, the arch of your neck, the fullness of your lips.
"you're nothing like i expected," she said one night, two months in, her voice low and intimate in the darkness. you were sprawled on the persian rug, head tipped back against a leather armchair, humming some alternative song under your breath. your skin glowed warm and rich in the lamplight, a sharp contrast to the pale marble and cream walls surrounding you.
"oh?" you looked up at her through your lashes, feeling brave from the whiskey and the late hour. "what did you expect?"
"someone more like mel's other friends. polished. proper." her lips curved around the words as if they amused her. "not this beautiful little creature in threadbare pajamas, so full of freedom and self-assuredness. you hold your own."
beautiful. the word hung in the air between you, dangerous and flickering. like the growing tension you felt whenever mel watched you both at dinner, her eyes narrowing at each shared glance, each lingering moment. you sat up slowly, your movements sluggish and dream-like.
"i don’t. not really. you make me nervous, but i learned early on how to fake it."
her eyes met yours in the dim light, and the air flooded with something thick and heady. your body felt electric. behind you, a floorboard creaked – mel, you'd realize later, watching from the doorway with dawning understanding.
but in that moment, all you could see was ambessa, all you could feel was the weight of what was building between you, an avalanche you were both choosing to let bury you.
in a matter of minutes, she had her hands on you, your back against her firm chest with two fingers tucked inside of your cunt. your legs sprawled open, your pussy blossoming with arousal like rain on roses.
she was softer than you’d imagined, but it was almost relieving. the tenderness did more for you anyway, sent your pulse more freely throughout your body.
you bucked your hips as heat spiraled up from the base of your spine. ambessa pressed you back down, fingers gripping deeply into your thighs.
“no,” she murmured. “stay down.”
you were nestled into her lap, her fingers milking you gently as you arched. your voice seemed caught in your throat, your neck extended in expectation of a kiss. she indulged you, mouth capturing yours while her thumb slipped past your thatch of curls to play with your clit.
the kiss was wet and sloppy, uncoordinated as a result of your jerking body. still, she fed from you reaping kiss after kiss, suckling at your tongue. she groaned into your lips as you threaded a harsh hand into her hair, pining her face against yours.
in response, she inserted a third finger. you let out a high moan at the added stimulation, rooting a hand around her neck to better fuck yourself down. she laughed lightly at your desire, pumping faster until your cunt dribbled gratitude down her knuckles.
“there you go, sweet girl,” she cooed and you shivered.
you suddenly understood cults and their leaders, how special you could feel when their attention was laved over you. you were trying your best to remain quiet, thick thighs trembling as she fucked you a little harder. your tits were bouncing as you met her thrusts and she hid her face into your neck, sucking and biting lightly.
with a muffled squeal you came, squirting lavishly all over where the two of you were locked together. true to her nature, ambessa didn’t give you a moment. with an efficient maneuver, she slid you around and on top of her. it was then that you realized she was naked, robe hanging open at her sides. you weren’t given a second to admire her.
instead, she tucked you into her and kissed you as she extended her legs out and settled you onto her warm cunt. you collapsed fully into her, face buried in the soft crevice of her heavy tits. she let out a slight hum of satisfaction as she slotted your clits together, hooking a leg over you to better increase the spread of your puffy pussy. eventually, you understood the intention and began to rock steadily against her.
the friction was heavenly and you clutched her tightly, burrowing into her broad body as you chased your pleasure. ambessa was just as frantic, snapping up with a hand anchored into your hair. your silk scarf had fallen long ago but you didn’t worry about it. all that mattered was her deep groans of pleasure and the way she kept fucking up against you.
“fuck, honey,” she murmured and you wanted to tell her that you knew, that you understood.
but you couldn’t. you were rendered pathetic by the threat of your second orgasm and settled for cumming inside of her with a wet wail. you could feel her legs shaking but you knew she hadn’t finished, and with a great groan you slid off of her.
stumbling slightly, you stood and rearranged so that you were kneeling in between the apex of her legs with your ass high in the air. as you dripped onto the carpet you began to lap at her and reached a hand up to twist and pinch at her nipples, alternating between her tits.
her breath began to shudder, her chest heaving as she ground down on her tongue. it only took a couple more broad strokes up her pussy and a relentless circling of her clit for her to finish, the liquid dowsing your nose and chin. the spray was thick and warm.
pleased, you hummed into her and started the whole thing up again. she cried out, legs closing around you in a suffocating crush.
not once did you let go.
𓇼
the fight had been brutal. even now, the memory makes your stomach churn—leaves you flinching, sick, and unsteady.
“jesus, [name],” mel’s voice had been sharp, cutting through the quiet. “you’re playing house with my fucking mother.”
“mel—”
“no!” she snapped, her words laced with disbelief and venom. “i can’t believe you. what? are you just desperate? taking whatever scraps you can get? ‘but i love her, melly!’”
her voice pitched high, mocking, cruel in a way you’d never heard before.
“i mean, my god, just go to therapy. don’t go fucking my mother!”
your hand cracked against her cheek before you even registered the motion.
“fuck you,” you spat, trembling, the tears hot and blinding.
she staggered back a step, wide-eyed and disbelieving. you mirrored her shock, your palm still stinging. the silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the harsh sound of both your breaths. ambessa had stepped out moments before—it was just the two of you now, suspended in the aftermath.
her lips parted as if to say something, but no words came.
your ticket was booked that afternoon, your bag packed by evening. you were gone before the sun had fully set.
𓇼
you close the shop early, your hands moving automatically as the weight of the day presses down on you.
the steady drag on your vape blurs the edges of your thoughts, a small comfort that does nothing to ease the growing ache in your chest. by the time you arrive home, the haze has lifted, but it leaves behind a sharp clarity: you’re alone. sadder than anything. the kind of heartbroken that settles deep in your bones and brings you down, quiet and constant like a low hum you can’t escape.
so you’re surprised when you’re met with a sleek range rover loitering in the parking lot outside your apartment complex.
you didn’t expect to see her this soon. or ever. didn’t want to. three weeks of silence, of space between you both, and you thought you were okay with it. you’d been fine with the quiet, with the absence. but there she is.
mel is right outside your building, sitting pretty and cross-legged in the backseat, the car’s headlights casting long, soft shadows over the cracked pavement. ambessa is sitting in the passenger seat, her face illuminated by the glow from the dashboard, and something about the way she holds herself makes it clear that she’s on the edge. she probably didn’t even want to do this. maybe she’d flown here for mel. maybe mel had flown here for you.
your chest tightens as you stand there, frozen for a moment, caught between the impulse to walk away and the need to understand what’s brought them here. you don’t move, just watch.
the undiscovered truth is that ambessa’s done this for both of you.
mel’s been struggling without you. she’s noticed it; this is her daughter after all. mel hasn’t said it outright, but ambessa can see it in the way her shoulders slump when she talks to anyone else, the small, tired smiles that don’t reach her eyes. she’s miserable without her best friend. and then—gradually—ambessa realized how much she needed you, too. wanted you.
the air between you and the car is heavy with guilt and longing. you can see it in mel’s face, too—how much she loves her mother, how she wants this to be different, even if she doesn’t quite know how to fix it.
and you? you feel a bit numb. maybe it’s the dredges of your vanilla buzz. the sadness in your chest, the loneliness, the quiet hope that maybe—just maybe—this could still work? it’s half dead, half living. you can’t tell if you’re ready to talk, to face what’s been left unsaid for so long. but you know one thing for sure: you’ve missed them both.
you keep standing there, rooted to the spot, watching the car like it’s some kind of omen. the silence feels louder than anything you’ve heard in weeks. ambessa remains in the passenger seat, her gaze distant, like she’s trying to work through something too. you don’t know what it is—whether it’s the weight of her possible regret or the silent pressure she’s putting on her daughter.
mel shifts in her seat, and then, before you can even brace yourself, she’s out of the car, the door slamming shut behind her. she’s standing in front of you now, her eyes wide with something that looks like hesitation.
“i didn’t know where else to go,” she says, her voice quiet but raw.
you don’t know what to say. the words that have been sitting in your throat for weeks suddenly seem impossible to spit out. you want to scream, to ask her why she didn’t come sooner, why it took so long. but all you can do is stand there, your chest tight and aching.
“you don’t have to say anything,” mel continues, her eyes darting between your face and the ground. “i just… i didn’t know what else to do. my mom’s…” she trails off, and there’s something in her voice—something that sounds like both love and frustration.
“she’s been miserable without you. i’ve been miserable without you.”
the admission hangs between you, thick and vulnerable. your breath catches in your throat. you didn’t know how much you missed her until this moment. you want to reach out, to pull her close, but you don’t. the ground between you both feels too fragile. finally, you speak.
“you deserve an apology too,” you croak out. “i shouldn’t have gone behind your back and i sure as hell should have never fucking hit you. it was unacceptable and i’m sorry, melly.”
her eyes grow bright and glassy with tears. she nods.
“i’m not going to say it’s fine because it’s not. but thank you for apologizing.”
you nod, resigned to another night of crying yourself to sleep.
i realized,” mel says wetly, “before this whole thing i’d never—i’d never seen you in love. i’ve never seen you that happy. i’m sorry for mocking that especially since you’ve never had that before, and it’s all you’ve ever wanted.”
you shrug, looking away.
“it’s how i’ve been living.”
before mel can say anything else, ambessa opens her door and steps out of the car. she’s quiet, her movements deliberate, but there’s something gentle in the way she walks toward you. she stops just a foot away, and without a word, she closes the gap and cups your face in her hands, her palms warm against your skin.
you blink, the shock of her touch overwhelming.
“i can’t believe you’re here,” you tell her, your voice cracking down the middle. “have you even been to california before?”
and it’s so stupid to say when you haven’t fucking seen her in months, haven’t stopped loving her for days, but ambessa only smiles. her eyes soften as she leans in, her lips brushing your forehead in a delicate.
“i’ve only ever tasted it,” she murmurs, her breath warm against your skin.
© hcneymooners.
⚚ special taglist: @astarcalledtala @sugrcookiiee @16novvs @tnash-tammy @dyk3miffy @iwasholic @fruitfulfashion @absandsevikasgirl @blackdykegirlblogger @fortluocha @neganwifey25-blog @rottngrl3
#ambessa x you#ambessa x reader#ambessa x y/n#arcane ambessa#ambessa medarda#ambessa league of legends#ambessa the chosen of the wolf#ambessa smut#wlw smut#lesbian#sapphic#arcane smut#arcane fanfic#arcane x reader#wlw#female!reader#fem!reader#mine ; 🐎.
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santa doesn’t know u like i do ⋆⁺₊❅。
clark kent x fem! reader
i’ve been there through the good and bad
know how to make you laugh
kiss all your tears away, babe
only I can do that
summary °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ : its christmas eve in smallville and y/n can’t wait till tomorrow to give her self-made gift to clark kent.
The snow fell gently, blanketing Smallville in a shimmering hush, as though the world had been tucked into a silver-white quilt. Even the stars seemed to lean closer, curious to watch the scene unfold below. Y/N tugged her scarf tighter, her breath unfurling in soft clouds as she stepped lightly through the snow. Each crunch of her boots on the frosted path felt impossibly loud in the stillness, but her heart raced faster with every step, urging her forward.
When she reached Clark’s barn, the wooden door creaked softly as she pushed it open. A faint golden glow spilled out, illuminating the snow beneath her feet. Inside, the air was warm, infused with the scent of hay, woodsmoke, and something uniquely Clark—a comforting mixture of earthiness and calm.
Her gaze lifted to the loft, where light danced across the beams. She climbed the ladder carefully, peeking over the edge. The sight that greeted her made her heart skip a beat.
Clark was sprawled on a makeshift couch by the loft window, wrapped in a knitted blanket. A steaming mug of cocoa rested in his hand, and an open book lay balanced on his lap. The soft light made his features look impossibly gentle, his messy hair haloed by the glow. He looked like a painting—perfect and timeless.
At the creak of the ladder, he glanced up, his blue eyes widening for a moment before softening into a smile that warmed her more than the stove below.
“Y/N?” he said, setting his book aside. “What are you doing out here?”
“I...” She hesitated, her cheeks blooming pink. “I wanted to see you.” Her voice was soft, almost shy. “Merry Christmas, Clark.”
“Merry Christmas,” he replied, his smile growing. “But it’s freezing outside. You could’ve waited until tomorrow.”
Y/N laughed, the sound filling the space like the chime of distant bells. She reached under her coat and pulled out a small package, its crimson wrapping crinkling in her hands. “I couldn’t wait. I wanted to give you this.”
Clark raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a teasing grin as he accepted the gift. “And here I thought Santa was the one sneaking into barns at night.”
“Santa doesn’t knit scarves,” she retorted, crossing her arms in mock indignation before breaking into a laugh.
He unwrapped the package carefully, his fingers brushing over the soft red scarf inside. His grin softened into something tender as he held it up, running his thumb along the stitches. “You made this?”
She nodded, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. “I thought it might keep you warm up here. It’s not perfect, but—”
“It’s perfect,” he interrupted, already wrapping it around his neck. “I love it.”
Her heart swelled, and she looked down, pretending to straighten her coat to hide her smile. “I’m glad.”
Clark set his cocoa aside and walked to a small table tucked into the corner of the loft. From underneath it, he pulled out a box wrapped in silver ribbon. “Your turn,” he said, his tone a little more nervous now. “I, uh, didn’t know how to wrap this very well, but...” He trailed off, holding the box out to her.
Y/N took it, her fingers trembling slightly as she untied the ribbon. Inside, nestled against soft velvet, was a delicate necklace. The pendant was a heart, small and simple, but it seemed to shimmer with its own quiet light.
“Clark...” she whispered, her voice catching. “It’s beautiful.”
“It reminded me of you,” he said quickly, his cheeks tinged with a faint pink. “Something simple but... special. And full of love.” He scratched the back of his neck, his eyes flicking nervously to hers. “I just... wanted you to have it.”
Her eyes glistened as she looked up at him. “You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to,” he interrupted gently, echoing her earlier words.
He stepped behind her, brushing her hair aside as he fastened the necklace around her neck. His fingers lingered on her skin for a moment longer than necessary, and when he stepped back, his eyes traced the way the pendant rested just above her heart.
“Something beautiful,” he said softly, “just like you.”
Y/N reached up to touch the pendant, feeling its weight, its meaning. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but they didn’t fall. Instead, she looked at him with all the love she felt, unable to find words big enough to hold it. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I love it.”
Clark’s expression melted into something impossibly tender, his voice low as he replied, “I love you.” He reached for her hands, threading his fingers through hers.
For a moment, they stood there, the world outside the barn fading into nothingness. The snow whispered against the roof, the stars glittering beyond the window, but all Y/N could feel was the warmth of Clark’s presence, the steady beat of love between them.
Then, with a sudden grin, Clark reached to the side and held up a sprig of mistletoe. “I figured I’d keep this handy,” he said, his voice playful but his gaze filled with affection.
Y/N laughed, her breath misting between them. “You really planned this, didn’t you?”
“Maybe,” he teased, leaning closer. “But I’d call it good planning.”
Their lips met, soft and unhurried, a kiss that felt like the first brush of sunlight after a long winter. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise, warm and steady, that even the coldest nights couldn’t touch.
When they finally pulled apart, Y/N rested her forehead against his, her voice a whisper. “Merry Christmas, Love.”
“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart,” he replied, his voice as steady and full of warmth as the glow in his eyes. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”
And as they settled back onto the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms, the barn seemed to hold its breath around them, cradling their love like a secret too precious to let go.
⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚 merry (early) christmas to everyone! its my gift to u and i hope u like a clark kent!
°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ taglist: @blackynsupremacy @alelo23
#clark kent smallville x reader#clark kent smallville#clark kent x reader#clark kent smallville x fem!reader#clark kent#tom welling#clark kent fics#smallville x reader#tom welling x reader#christmas au#santa doesn't know you like i do#smallville#smallvilleclark#dc
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