#pendant lighting guide

[its-foyjul]

A Comprehensive Guide to Pendant Lights

Pendant lights are a versatile lighting solution that can be used in a variety of rooms and settings. They are typically hung from the ceiling and provide direct light to a specific area. Pendant lights can be used to create a focal point in a room or to provide task lighting for a specific area, such as a kitchen island or dining table.

Types of Pendant Lights

There are many different types of pendant lights available, so you can find one that is perfect for your style and needs. Some of the most popular types of pendant lights include:

Glass pendant lights: Glass pendant lights are a great way to add a touch of elegance to a room. They come in a variety of shapes and sizes, and they can be used to create a variety of different looks.

Metal pendant lights: Metal pendant lights are a more industrial-chic option. They are typically made from steel or aluminum, and they can be used to add a touch of edge to a room.

Drum pendant lights: Drum pendant lights are a versatile option that can be used in a variety of rooms. They are typically made from fabric or paper, and they come in a variety of shapes and sizes.

Pendant chandeliers: Pendant chandeliers are a great way to add a touch of glamour to a room. They are typically made from glass or metal, and they come in a variety of shapes and sizes.

How to Choose a Pendant Light?

When choosing a pendant light, there are a few things to consider:

The size of the room: The size of the pendant light should be proportional to the size of the room. A large pendant light in a small room will make the room feel crowded, while a small pendant light in a large room will look lost.

The style of the room: The pendant light should complement the style of the room. For example, a glass pendant light would be a good choice for a modern room, while a metal pendant light would be a good choice for an industrial-chic room.

The function of the light: If the pendant light is going to be used for task lighting, make sure that it is bright enough for the task. If the pendant light is going to be used for ambient lighting, make sure that it is not too bright.

Where to Hang a Pendant Light?

Pendant lights can be hung in a variety of places, including:

Over a kitchen island or dining table: Pendant lights can be used to create a focal point in a kitchen or dining room.

In a hallway: Pendant lights can be used to add light to a hallway or entryway.

In a bedroom: Pendant lights can be used to add a touch of elegance to a bedroom.

In a bathroom: Pendant lights can be used to add light to a bathroom vanity or sink.

Pendant Lighting Tips

Use a dimmer switch: A dimmer switch will allow you to control the amount of light that the pendant light emits.

Layer your lighting: Pendant lights can be used to layer lighting in a room. For example, you could use a pendant light for task lighting and a chandelier for ambient lighting.

Use pendant lights to create a focal point: Pendant lights can be used to create a focal point in a room. For example, you could hang a pendant light over a kitchen island or dining table.

[proteas-leaf]

For Sky Lore Fans - The Guide's Reunion's⁠

🍄‍🟫🔷🪻: heyyyy y'all uhm how are you??? :DD Someone, which is not me but is Leaf, wanted to introduce to you a thing that she created while writing her Sky: CotL Fanfiction, Fly Until You See The Light, and that has been going on for a while without you knowing. Soooo Leaf, here is your chance to speak.

🌿📜🫀: alright, thank you, colleague. First of all, I warn you, people. Since the beginning of my Sky story, you can see that it's an AU that tends to be the closest possible to the real game. Thought, it's still an AU, and many things that are NOT CANONIC and just theories exist in there.

Now, we can proceed.

Down here, you find a screenshot of the Chapter 13 of the Prophecy part of my story!

Some of you may wonder: what is a Guide's Reunion? How does it work? That's what I'm going to talk about!

A Guide's Reunion is nothing but a meeting where all the Seasonal Questgivers/Guides organize new Seasons, Events and more. So, I can also say that I've been Daydreaming about some scenarios, and my mind has brought me to the conclusion that the Guides are a full group of chaotic beings and good old friendships.

There is a difference between Seasons and Events, in the Reunions: the Seasons are a more delicate issue, so the Gods create them as ideas and tell the Guides to organize them (such as discovering more about Spirits and the Questgivers if they're already in their area, and more...). About the Events (such as Days of Nature, Days of Style...), which are easier to make and smaller, the Guides create them and organize them on their own.

The Reunions are every two/three weeks, but the time depends mostly on the needs and ideas of the members!

Now, about the Seasonal Questgivers/Guides, I'd like to add some more information.

Every Guide of every Season participates to the Reunions.

Despite this, there are some special cases... And these are the Little Prince Season, Shattering Season and AURORA Season.

These Seasons are not randomly chosen. They have something in common: none of them has got a Sky Person as Guide. The Little Prince has got the Rose, the Shattering has got the Shattered Diamond, AURORA has got an Aurora statue/sculpture (?). So, who participates at the Reunions for the original Guides?

The answers can be two, in these cases. AURORA and Little Prince can be represented by a Spirit of their Constellation. The Spirits of the two Constellations alternate among themselves to participate in the Reunions. But what about Shattering? They have no Spirits, they don't even have a Constellation, if I'm not wrong.

A Messenger of the Stars joins the Reunion for them, and they try to help the Guides.

✷ A Messenger of the Stars is a being that is very similar to Skykids. In fact, the Messengers are Skykids, but they are more related to the Gods and the Elders. They look like normal Children of the Light, but they are known for having the AURORA Blue Wings and/or the AURORA tiara. Their purposes are the following:

To organize expeditions (and participate in them) with magic functions that may be connected to the past, the present or the future of the Sky Kingdom;

To look after the Sky Creatures, if necessary, and to always protect them from the Hunters (just people who hunt the creatures);

To discover the meanings and the hidden stories behind the ancient murals in the Kingdom;

Adding a fact about them, they tend to be good musicians, healers, and they can be good teachers and warriors.

This is an example with an original Sky OC, Guwa. ✷

Now, let's go back to the Reunions topic.

When the Guides are at the Reunions, they can't stay at their area at the same time. So, they can choose between being temporarily replaced by a Spirit of their Constellation to help the Children to complete their Seasonal Quests, or to make the Quests be closed until they come back.

I've told you all a lot about the Present, but what about the Seasons in the past?

Some centuries after the Darkness, the Corruption and the King's fall, the Season were created by the Gods to keep the population united. Children of the Light were already starting their journeys at the age of thirteen, and the Seasons helped them to make new friends more easily.

Sadly, after some time, the Seasons were forgotten because nobody had written informations about them. The first Guides disappeared for choice of the Gods, and they've never returned.

Well, that was until a recent time (that we can also see as 2019, the beginning of the Seasons). The Darkness, angry and mad at Megabird, decided to make a joke on her and gave life to the Season of Gratitude. Megabird wasn't happy about it at first, but she then saw how powerful the Seasons have always been. So, she didn't stop the cycle anymore.

✷ This is also the reason some of my OCs don't have a star sign, which I've seen in the @theweeklylight 's most recent posts.

A star sign is like a zodiac sign, and you can find it in the blog I've tagged. ✷

Fun Fact before continuation

The "before Aviary" Guides usually make friendly jokes about the "after Aviary" Guides. Things like: "Back at my days, ...";

The cycle of the Pendants

The Pendants are the Seasonal necklaces that Skykids can unlock with the Pass during the Seasons.

In my AU, the Seasonal Spirits that have got a Seasonal Pendant are willing to be "secondary Guides", helpers that can participate at the Reunions. When all the Spirits of a Constellation have the Pendants, they all can participate.

The number of Spirits can change, of course. Here is some example:

Season of Remembrance -> Bereft Veteran and Wounded Warrior have the Pendants;

Season of Passage -> Melancholy Mope has the Pendant;

Season of Abyss -> Bumbling Boatswain has the Pendant;

Season of Flight -> Lively Navigator and Light Whisperer have the Pendants.

The Elders wanted to replace the old Guides with this cycle of the Pendants, but no Guide has ever let the group and nobody ever will.

✷ Oh, also, Passage Guide is very sensitive about one of his adopted Children being an helper ✷

So, I can finally say that I am finished with this topic :) I hope you all enjoyed this little essay (can we call it like that?), and I hope that this will be appreciated by the Lore Fans.

Bye bye, Sky People!

[confusedskykid]

If my sky kid were released upon the ancestors full force I think they’d be a public enemy and wildly known as

“DONT LET THAT ONE IN-“

Why?

Well where do I start—

[swarvey]

how they would propose | sdv bachelors x g/n!reader | part one

-> summary: in game, the farmer is always the one to present the mermaid's pendant to their lover — what if it was the other way around?

pt. 2

a/n: starting with half the boys, i'll be working on the rest of them + bachelorettes after ! i got a bit carried away with elliott's ... but can you blame me?

alex

carries the pendant around in his pocket for a week, hoping the right words will magically find him if he does

(they don't)

definitely the type to lock himself in the bathroom and stare at himself through the mirror while practicing what to say to you

decides to propose during a quiet walk in the evening so he has your full attention and all the time in the world to profess his love to you

alex swears his heart is about to fly out of his chest as the two of you walk hand in hand around pelican town, the sun long gone below the horizon. the street lamps guide the two of you, fireflies intermittently emitting gentle flashes of light.

he doesn't even realize you're expecting a response from him until you wave a hand in front of his face, moving in front of him so he's forced to look into your amused gaze.

"alex," you laugh, and his breath hitches, "are you listening? you look like you've been zoning out."

he musters an empty laugh back at you, internally panicking as he desperately tries to recall what you said. "what? me? no, i was just, uh . . ." think, alex, think! you can't mess up now! "i was thinking about gridball." he wants to smack himself.

"really?" you reply, raising your brows. "you're thinking about gridball, now? while i was talking to you about our anniversary coming up?"

shit.

his face pales, stopping in his tracks in the middle of the bridge near the museum. he groans, dropping your hand to run it through his hair — surely he can fix this, right?

"okay, cut the act," you say, worry beginning to show in your features. "is everything alright? what's bugging you?"

"nothing, really! it's just that, uh . . ." alex inhales a quick breath to prepare himself before grabbing both your hands in his. "you know i love you, right?"

"yes . . .," you trail off. you look at him with concerned eyes, beginning to look uneasy. "now i'm really worried—"

"no, no! just hear me out, alright?" you nod. "you know, before you moved here, my view on life was pretty boring," he admits. "all i really cared about was gridball and my grandparents. and dusty, of course, and i guess sam and haley, too—" he shakes his head, blush beginning to cover his cheeks. "whatever, you get what i'm trying to say, right?"

"i'm not entirely sure if i follow," you reply, smiling at how flustered he's gotten. "what are you getting at, alex?"

he sighs. "listen, you moving here was the best thing that ever happened to me. you've shown me there's tons more to life than whatever i was doing before, like giving random gifts to everyone in town just to make them happy, or being a badass and fighting off monsters!" you laugh, and he grins. "anyways, now that i've had a taste of what being with you is like, i don't think i'm willing to share."

your jaw drops as he reaches into his pocket and gets on one knee, opening his palm to reveal a mermaid's pendant.

"will you marry me, y/n? so i can spend the rest of my life learning more awesome stuff from you?"

he nearly collapses in relief when you nod, whooping in joy before engulfing you in a tight hug. after a few moments, he can't help but kiss you strongly, a hand cradling the back of your head with the other on the small of your back. you smile into the kiss, pulling away only to look into his teary, overjoyed eyes.

"aren't you forgetting something?" you tease, glancing down at the pendant that's still clutched in his hand.

"oh, right!" you bend your head forward as he places it around your neck, beaming at the sight.

you hold the jewel in your hand, adrenaline pumping through your blood. "looks like we'll have to plan a wedding," you say, happily pecking alex's cheek.

"yes, this is so great!" he exclaims as he jumps in excitement, unable to control himself. "alright, first, we gotta figure out where we're going to cater food from, but i know grams will want to bake our cake," he rambles, grabbing your hand as he practically starts to drag you home. "oooh, and we should totally ask sam and his band to play something for us! he knows all the songs we like, anyway. i think all the guys will help me get all dressed up, but i bet haley and the rest of the girls would go crazy over helping you pick out what to wear, they probably know better anyway—"

"alex," you interrupt, laughing at his antics, "relax. we'll figure all this out tomorrow. let's just go home." he nods.

"you're right, honey," he agrees, swinging your intertwined hands playfully. "i'm going to need all the rest i can get if i'm gonna spend all of tomorrow bragging about my engagement."

shane

leaves the pendant in his nightstand drawer and looks at it every night before he goes to sleep for nearly a month

he truly never thought he would get married — who would want to marry him, the town drunk?

regardless, the past year with you has proven otherwise, and he knows now there's no one else he wants by his side

he decides to do it quite impulsively one day, literally grabbing it from his drawer and walking to your farm

(marnie nearly faints in excitement when she sees him walk out with the mermaid's pendant in hand, while jas cheers him on)

shane starts to get nervous when he doesn't see you anywhere on the farm, making sure to double-check all the chicken coops and barns before heading toward your house. your pet runs up to him, sniffing the hand wrapped around the pendant curiously.

"got any advice?" he asks jokingly, though he doesn't receive an answer — just a tilted head and wide eyes. "guess this one's on me," he sighs, looking at the jewelry nervously.

"shane? is that you?"

shane nearly drops it as he quickly shoves his hands into his pockets, watching as you step out from your greenhouse. of course, he thinks, the one place i didn't check.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, smiling at his sudden appearance. you're wearing dirt-covered gloves and your hair is touseled and frizzy; shane thinks you're glowing. "dinner's not til later, isn't it? or else i'll need a little time to get ready."

"no, i thought i would stop by a little early," he says. "i had something i wanted to talk to you about, actually." you nod, taking off your gloves and putting them in your bag.

"of course, what's up?" you ask, looking at him with those damn eyes that he could never resist.

"we should get married," he states bluntly, excitement sending chills down his body.

he wants to kick himself as you stare at him, blinking twice before saying, "y-yeah, i guess we should."

he nods, swallowing. "it makes sense, y'know?" he reasons, suddenly avoiding your eyes. "we've been with each other for a while now, and things have been going pretty good." he pauses. "you've gotten me through a lot, you know that? i mean, before you got here, i didn't think anyone in this town gave a damn about me — but you obviously do, for whatever reason, so i'll spend the rest of my life trying my best to be the guy you see me as."

he takes the mermaid's pendant out from his pocket, sheepishly looking at you as he holds it. his eyes are watering with emotion, and by the looks of it, so are yours.

"so, what do you say, honey?" he asks softly. "will you marry me?"

"yes," you reply, smiling as he puts the necklace on you. he laughs in disbelief when he sees you wearing it, still in shock that this is his reality. you roll your eyes, pulling him in for a deep kiss. you cry out in surprise as he hugs you strongly and even lifts you off the ground slightly, his eyes brighter than you've ever seen them.

"i can hardly believe this is real," he sighs, pulling you into his side. "guess i did one thing right in my lifetime."

you slap his arm, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. "you definitely didn't plan this out, did you?"

"huh? what makes you think that?"

"you couldn't even wait until dinner to ask?" you joke. "i guess it wasn't really a question, either—" you laugh as he pokes your side to cut you off.

"don't forget, you're the one who said yes," he retorts, smiling nonetheless. "you're officially stuck with me."

elliott

oh, he's had the mermaid's pendant for months. pretty much since you two got together

he tried to keep it a secret, he really did, but by the time he actually decides to propose, the rest of the bachelors and bachelorettes know

still, he wants the proposal to be for you and you only, so he plans on asking you during an evening picnic dinner on the beach

that doesn't stop him from asking his friends for some help, though

"is this really necessary?" sebastian questions, placing a candle into the sand and creating a pathway to the picnic blanket near the water.

"i think it's romantic," leah sighs, handing him another candle from the box in her arms. "he's been planning and buying all this stuff for weeks now. plus, candlelight always makes things more magical."

"i'm sure the moon will be bright enough tonight to add some 'magic.'"

"the light itself is not our concern, my friend," elliott says, wrapping an arm around seb — who scowls at the contact, but decides to let him get away with it just this once — and waving his arm to show off their setup. "i need this beach to represent a scene of pure love and endearment tonight, for my beloved deserves no less than a proposal for the century!"

"right," seb monotones. "well, the candles are all set up, so i'm heading to the shade."

"you want the speakers over here, el?" sam calls out, holding up one of his wireless speakers at the entrance of the beach.

"i've got one over here, too!" abigail yells from behind the cabin.

"perfect!" elliott replies, grinning as the setting he's been picturing finally comes together. he waves goodbye as everyone begins to head home, turning to the only part of his plan left untouched — the picnic blanket. i suppose the rest is up to me.

-

"are you ready, my dear?"

"elliott, i've been ready for the past twenty minutes," you say, playfully smacking the hands covering your eyes. "can i look now?" he laughs before finally lowering his arms, watching lovingly as your eyes widen at the setting in front of you.

"shall we?" he asks, holding his arm out. you gladly hold on to him as the two of you make your way down the beach, in awe at the candles lighting your way.

"i must be dreaming," you say, shaking your head. "how did you—? wait, where's the music coming from?" you realize soft acoustic music is playing throughout the beach, feeling as if you're in a movie scene.

"ah, that? i asked sam and abigail if i could borrow their speakers," elliott explains proudly. "i also recruited leah and sebastian to help me create this enchanting path."

you laugh. "let me guess, you asked alex and haley to distract me and bring me to the library?" your jaw dropped. "no, and you asked maru and penny to get lunch with me? all so i wouldn't come to find you?"

"i had a feeling my darling would venture to my whereabouts, so i requested the help of our colleagues to keep you away. though i'm sure it was difficult for you, i wanted this to be a surprise," he admits, smiling at you. "do you . . . like it?" he asks quietly, a bit scared he had done too much.

"elliott, this is more than anything i could have asked for," you say, warmth coating your words. "what's the occasion?"

he sighs in relief before replying, "have i ever needed a measly excuse to spoil you, dear?"

"i suppose not," you agree amusedly, recalling all the times you've returned home to a bouquet sitting on your porch.

finally, the two of you reach the end of the path, sitting together on the blanket. a big basket covered with a cloth sits at the center of it, as well as two plates, utensils, and your favorite food.

you shake your head. "this is ridiculous," you state, looking at elliott with big eyes. "how long have you been planning this?"

he hums in thought as he plates your food, pushing it towards you. "that, my dear, is none of your concern," he says, "though, i will say it took quite a bit of strategy. and money," he jokingly adds.

after the two of you eat, elliott hands the basket over to you, trying his very best to contain himself.

"i thought it'd be fitting to get you some gifts," he states, as you begin to uncover its contents one by one.

inside, you find a framed version of your favorite photo with him, a hand-painted mug, a poem, and—

you gasp. "are those rubies?" you ask, a couple red stones glittering at the top of the basket. you pick them up, realizing they're matching keychains.

"courtesy of emily," elliott explains. he hesitates, breathing out lightly before continuing. "rubies signify love and passion, you know, as well as good luck and prosperity."

you laugh lightly, holding up the keychains to the moonlight to see them shine. "perfect, should work wonders for us and the farm—"

"they also symbolize weddings."

you blink, gently setting down the gems as you look at him. he holds out the mermaid's pendant he has been patiently keeping for you, eyes already shining with tears as you gasp.

"y/n, the time we have spent together has been by far the best of my entire life," he starts, "and when i look to the future, i'm afraid i cannot picture one without you walking by my side. you are, and always will be, the love of my life, my shining light, my fairy book tale. you, my love, are my happy ending.

"so, will you do me the honors and marry me?"

you jump into his arms as soon as he finishes speaking, both of you laughing as he happily holds you.

"yes, elliott, of course!" you exclaim. he grins as he holds your face in his hands, covering your face in kisses before finally landing on your lips. your hands run through his hair before you fall backward, elliott landing on top of you with his hand cradling your head. you peck his nose, and he laughs once more before helping you sit up.

"here, let us celebrate with some wine!" he decides, grabbing two bottles he had left in the corner. "shane and harvey said these were the best the winery had to offer."

"you really got the whole town in on this, huh?" you tease, barely containing yourself as he helps you put on the jewelry.

he rubs the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. "well, it began with leah, and i thought it wouldn't hurt to tell harvey, but then of course i had to tell—" he stops himself. "secrecy has never been one of my strong suits, has it, love?"

you shake your head, leaning into his arm as you listen to the sound of the music mixing with the crashing of the waves.

"don't worry," you reassure, and he looks down at you with nothing but love in his gaze. "you have plenty of other traits to make up for it."

[amirasainz]

hi, you write beautifully! i was wondering if you could please write something about lando and the reader, when they have different love languages lando has touch and the reader has gifts

Thank you 😊

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

- xoxo babygirl 🧡

Different Love Languages, Same Love

Lando had always been a tactile person. It wasn’t something he tried to be, it was just who he was—he liked being close, feeling skin against skin, sharing warmth. And then there was Y/N, his polar opposite when it came to expressing love. She’d always had a knack for finding the perfect gift or gesture, something that showed she’d been paying attention to the tiniest details. They were different, yes, but those differences only seemed to bring them closer.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The first time Y/N really noticed how much Lando’s love language shaped his actions was at a fan meet-and-greet.

It was a chaotic day at the track. Fans swarmed Lando as soon as he stepped out of the hospitality tent. Y/N had been standing beside him, holding his water bottle, her presence understated like always. But the moment the crowd surged forward, Lando’s hand shot out, grabbing hers and pulling her in front of him.

“Stay close,” he murmured, his arm wrapping protectively around her waist.

She could feel the rapid thump of his heart as he tucked her into his chest, shielding her from the crush of fans. Even as he smiled and signed autographs, his other hand never left her, his fingers brushing her arm or hip every few seconds as if to make sure she was still there.

Later that night, when they were back at the hotel, she teased him about it.

“Lando, I wasn’t about to get lost in a sea of fans,” she said, smiling as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail.

He looked up from where he was lying on the bed, his face softening. “I know. I just… I didn’t want anything to happen to you. You’re the most important person there, you know?”

Her heart melted on the spot.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Y/N’s love showed itself in other ways—like the time Lando won his first-ever F1 race.

It had been a whirlwind of champagne, interviews, and celebrations. Y/N was right there through it all, cheering the loudest, her face aching from how wide her smile had been the entire time. The next day, while Lando was still sleeping off the post-race exhaustion, she went out and found a small pendant shaped like a racecar. It wasn’t fancy, but it was something to mark the moment.

When Lando woke up and saw it, his expression was priceless.

“What’s this?” he asked, holding it up to the light.

“Just something to remember yesterday by,” Y/N said casually, though her cheeks were already warming. “You can put it on your keychain or something.”

Lando sat up and looked at her for a long moment before pulling her into his lap, burying his face in her neck. “You’re unreal, you know that? I don’t deserve you.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Their differences became even more apparent on the nights they’d go out with friends. Y/N wasn’t a big drinker, but occasionally, she’d let loose. Lando always took on the role of her unofficial babysitter, not that she ever needed it. One particular night, though, she’d had one cocktail too many.

On the way home, she slouched in the passenger seat of Lando’s car, her head lolling against the window. “You’re so pretty, you know that?” she slurred, turning to look at him with glassy eyes.

Lando laughed, shaking his head. “Thanks, love. So are you.”

When she tried to sit up, he reached over, guiding her feet onto his lap.

“What are you doing?” she asked, confused but too tipsy to argue.

“Just keeping you close,” he said simply, one hand steering the car while the other rested on her ankle.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

For Y/N, showing her love meant remembering the little things—like the time Lando casually mentioned wanting a specific pair of headphones while scrolling online. Six months later, on his birthday, he unwrapped the exact pair he’d been eyeing.

“How did you remember this?” he asked, holding them up with a mix of surprise and awe.

“I pay attention,” Y/N said with a grin. “You should try it sometime.”

He tackled her onto the couch, peppering her face with kisses.

“I don’t need to,” he said between kisses. “I already have everything I want.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

One of Lando’s most memorable gestures came during a rare beach day together. They’d found a secluded spot, far from the prying eyes of fans or photographers. Y/N had been lying on the sand, soaking up the sun, when Lando suddenly scooped her up and pulled her onto his chest.

“Lando!” she yelped, laughing as she tried to wriggle free. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping you close,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “And making sure you don’t get sand in your hair. You hate that.”

She rolled her eyes but let him hold her, her head resting against his shoulder as they watched the waves.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The balance they struck was perfect in its own way.

When Lando came home after particularly grueling race weekends, Y/N always had something waiting for him—sometimes flowers, sometimes his favorite takeout, sometimes just a handwritten note tucked into his pillow.

And when Y/N had rough days, Lando would pull her into his arms and hold her until the tension melted away.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

One night, as they lay tangled together on the couch, Y/N looked up at him and asked, “Do you ever wish we had the same love language?”

Lando tilted his head, considering her question. “Not really. I think it’s kind of perfect the way it is. You make me feel loved in ways I never expected.”

She smiled, reaching up to trace his jawline. “You do the same for me.”

And that was all that mattered.

[ilovecatfr]

HOW TO CHANNEL SOMEONE

{or channel memories from your dr/people/higher self}

Channeling is connecting with someone’s energy or consciousness, allowing you to receive memories, messages, or answers.

There's a lot of ways to channel someone but I'm going to go through couple of them;

Methods: meditation and visualization/automatic writing/channeling through dreams/using a necklace or a pendulum

{a little tip}

Relax and trust the process. Often, memories and answers will come to you naturally when you're not actively trying to force them. Pay attention to sudden thoughts, feelings, or deja vu moments—they might be glimpses from your DR. Be patient.

1. MEDITATION AND VISUALIZATION

Sit or lie down in a quiet space.

Close your eyes and visualize any place you want.

Picture the person from your DR you want to connect with. Imagine their presence vividly, including their voice, appearance, and energy. Or if you want to channel your higher self you can simple ask.

In your mind or outloud, ask them to share a memory or whatever you want.

2. AUTOMATIC WRITING

Grab a pen and notebook or you can use your phone/anything you can write on.

Quiet your mind and think of the person you want to channel.

Set the intention: “I invite [Name] to share their memories with me/answer my questions”

Begin writing whatever comes to mind, without overthinking.

3. CHANNELING THROUGH DREAMS

Before bed, set the intention to meet the person in your dreams and ask for whatever you want.

Visualize the person clearly as you fall asleep, focusing on their energy and presence. Or ask a question for specific person/higher self.

{tip; set the intention to remember the dream vividly or keep something you can write it in as soon as you wake up}

4. CHANNELING WITH NECKLACE OR PENDULUM

{remember: necklace must have some kind of pendant on it}

Cleanse the tool: Run it under water, pass it through incense smoke, or visualize white light surrounding it {OPTIONAL}

Sit in a quiet space and relax. Set your intention: Hold the necklace or pendulum and say, “I call [Name] to connect with me”

Determined the movements example: back and fourth=yes. Side to side=no. Circle= maybe.

{you can write it on a paper and put it under it as your channel}

Begin channeling, and if you want to make sure it your person ask questions they will know to answer to.

You can even put a keyboard under it and have it move towards the letters as it makes a sentence.

At the end you can say goodbye.

LITTLE ADD: HOW I PERSONALLY CHANNEL AND CONNECT TO PEOPLE FROM MY DR EVERYDAY

{tips; you can make sure the pendant on your necklace is heavy enough/be in a room with no wind/ put your elbows on a hard surface as you do this to keep your hand steady/trust that connection will guide your hand.}

SOME AFFIRMATIONS YOU CAN SAY:

SAFETY

1. My boundaries are strong, and only safe connections are allowed in my space.

2. The universe (God or whoever you believe in) supports and protects me at all times.

3. Only energies that align with my highest good can reach me.

4. I am grounded, centered, and completely safe.

CHANNELLING

1. I easily connect with [Name] from and receive.

2. I am open to communication with [Name], and it flows effortlessly.

3. I am fully aligned with [Name] and those within it.

4. Memories from my DR flow to me naturally and effortlessly.

Focus on the people you want; their energy, your relationship, scenarios... and basically relax and set the intention or ask them to be present in your cr by sending your messages/signs or whatever you want. I keep this connection open and they are welcomed every day to send me messages.

A little warning:

Don't let this take over your shifting journey; remember shifting and experiencing it first hand is much better then just having memories or talking to people from your dr. Yes this can be great motivation but don't let it take over.

This is not to scare you but to warn you and remind you of what can you really have:)

<3

[shaisuki]

cw: werewolf x nun, sacrilegious themes, religious themes, blasphemy, monster fucking, creampies.

werewolves are purged for they are sin and creatures of night that the devil created. taking in the human form and a beast in the night. they were considered to be monsters.

you serve as a nun in the church where they take the suspected individuals where they chain and lock until they transformed into those ugly beasts — the church say and being one of the church's nun you oversee the prayers for these abominations. hoping that a prayer can still salvage their souls over burning in the pits of hellfire and may the lord forgive them.

bright hues of red and orange danced around the room. the torches light guides you to our footing as you slowly descends in the stairs. your white tunic flowing with your every move. the dungeon's a cold and gloomy place with the stones damp and a few vines stretching in the stone marbled walls.

it's a full moon tonight and you will about to see if what the townspeople have captured is a real one. a werewolf. the transformation is finished. that's what you thought as you slowly moved. entering one of the rooms where the beast is chained. you can hear a growl and a snarl. the clattering of chains, trying to break free from its confines.

moonlight streams from the barred windows outside. showing the beast that terrorized the townspeople. confined in this dark, gloomy room without nothing. the chains full on clanging, echoing in the quietness of the night for this supposedly human who transforms into a devil's creation. these poor creatures. there's only one thing you can do for them and that is to pray. taking out your rosary beads and you began to pray.

“f-forgive me oh lord...... for i have — sinned” the words you chant came stumbling. the prayer that should salvage this damned creature isn't being directed to him but to you. the desire was too thick to be ignored like you were eve when she took a bite of the apple.

while preparing for the prayer that needs to be spoken for sincerity to be heard — your eyes went wide — stunned. it wasn't from the for this beast but what entailed between it's legs. it was his cock jutting proudly and you have never seen such huge one at that time. it was long and a girth to match. it may be the same size of your arm. the color of flesh with veins, colors of red and deep purple and a sprinkles of white surrounding like vines around it. a knot forming in the base and it's most prominent feature is the tip, like a mushroom and bulbous. a monstrous cock belonging to someone who's a monster.

the sight of it makes your mouth water. your panties drenched with your slick. it didn't even occur to you that lust is a sin and you have your vows of chastity but it soon flew out in the window along with your white tunic strewn in the floor and freeing the beast from it chains. the rosary beads scattered on the floor.

“— the sin of lust which i committed. the sin of flesh!” you continued the prayer while your hands are clasped together as you bounced on the creature's thick cock. stretching your pussy and filling you to the brim. it's bulbous tip nudging the entrance of your womb. the necklace with a crucifix for a pendant sways back and forth with your every moment as you plead for forgiveness.

the werewolf beneath you growled. holding your wide hips with his clawed hand. the fat spilling from his rough palms keeping you still before moving his hips upwards. fucking to your heat deeper. the sensation of your velvety walls make his tongue loll out from how good it was gripping his fat cock. your juices dripping down into his thick shaft while he continues to plunge into you. creating a squelching sound in the quiet of the room.

you continue to recite your prayer. seeking for forgiveness while you get defiled by this monstrous cock repeatedly bullying your insides. it didn't help that you were moaning in-between your prayers as you fall into a silent scream. the ribbing of his shaft massaging your velvety walls and that includes your soft spot that makes you cream around his girth.

he isn't going to last too. his knot are starting to swell. bulging as the his release gets closer and with a sharp thrust and pulling your fleshy hips meeting his own. his knot pushed inside you before buckets of his warm, white, thick load are filling up your awaiting womb eager for it's release.

“amen.” you weakly moaned out. grinding and pushing his knot deeper inside you. making sure you're completely filled out with his cum that you're starting to get addicted too.

he takes a lick to your round cheek. a somehow satisfied growl rumbling from his chest and with a wet pop. his cum trickling down your thighs. covering his bulbous tip and his shaft with your juices and his. the sight making you moan.

it wasn't the same after that, he fucked you into many positions. breeding you while he folded you into a mating press. you weren't a nun at the time. you were a slut. a wench for his aching fat cock. your fat pussy being repeatedly filled with his thick cum until it overflows. you were left satisfied after that. donning your white tunic and after you left. you let out a scream. awaking all the convent members and your fellow nuns and the priest came tumbling along with their torches.

they arrive at the dungeon and finds your shaking figure and pointing at the broken chains that are used to imprison the creature and only for them to find out it had escaped. they buy your reasons. pretending that you only went down here to pray for the beast before the townspeople execute it.

the full moon will end tonight along with the passionate throes you shared with that creature. you warmly smiled as you lay in your bed. his cum still inside you, sloshing and it made you giddy. you can't wait for the another beast they will imprison, you'll make sure you're getting your cunt stuffed again with its cum and having your hole stretched and your womb filled to the brim.

maybe, you'll go to the woods alone.

[aureum-cordis]

Lost & Found

Parental!DogDay & Child!Reader

A/N: Hey there! First post, I know, but I couldn’t help but share this. A friend of mine encouraged me to, so I hope other people like it as well! This is only the first part and I have much more planned for this story, I hope you enjoy! I know this ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, but that may or may not be intentional. Find Part 2 here!

Spoilers for Poppy Playtime Chapter 3: Deep Sleep!

Warnings: Mentions of character death, blood, gore, and the like. Child experimentation will also be mentioned. This story will contain references to the information in the game as well, if uncomfortable with any of those topics then please proceed with caution.

________________________________________________

DogDay and the others knew well that something was amiss in the building, several of the Smiling Critters had sought him out due to the fact that he was the leader. CatNap was the only one that had been distant for a long time now, becoming something that he couldn’t recognize.

And then it happened. The Hour of Joy. The metallic scent of blood was something he could never rid his nose of, his ears still rang from the sound of screaming from both children and adults. The Prototype had clearly been convincing the cat of the Smiling Critters, for nothing but praises fell out for the creature amongst that dreaded red gas that poured out of his perpetually gaping maw.

DogDay had been able to reach the others first, encouraging them to not stand idly by and follow something as monstrous as The Prototype and his newly fashioned pawn.

It ended poorly, their rebellion was met with nightmarish hallucinations and a set of claws that sliced their bodies to ribbons.

Even they were not impervious to the red gas that covered the ground like a dense fog, announcing CatNap’s presence before he could be seen. Few of them remained, far less than what once was. They rotated hideouts regularly, knowing well that they had to keep moving to avoid CatNap’s patrols.

Currently, the place they had sought refuge in was some long abandoned room of the orphanage. Those that remained were silent.

CraftyCorn was frantically drawing something on a dirtied sheet of paper, the colors bleeding against her hooves as she struggled to keep a steady grip.

Bobby BearHug was huddled in a corner, clutching a blanket that was shredded in places and nearly fell apart as she held it to her chest, her body shook from silent sobs or perhaps fear of what would come.

DogDay himself was solemn, resting on the floor with his back pressed against the wall. They had just lost Hoppy days prior, or at least it had seemed like days. Any semblance of a concept of time was lost in this pit of despair, the inability to even catch a glimpse of light that wasn’t artificial was disheartening and disorienting. The others in the room were in no state to actively patrol, their minds in shambles and in various states of decay.

There was no optimism to be found, he knew that. Any attempt to even lighten the mood would be met with dismay and the kind of disgust that caused nausea to wash over oneself and clouded any other senses. They had lost far too many for any form of joy to be found.

CatNap may have been the one to end their lives, following the guiding hand of The Prototype, but their blood was also on his hands. Their screams kept him awake, the fear in their voices as they called out and weeped for help kept him going.

Slowly, he rose from his seated position to his feet, the sun pendant that hung from his zipper clinked against the metal with the motion and swung gently before resting against his chest. It was enough of a sound to draw the eyes of CraftyCorn, to which DogDay gave a dip of his head. “I’m sorry to startle you, that wasn’t my intention,” he started, voice rough and scratchy from disuse as he met the eyes of the other.

“I’ll take the first watch, be safe and try to get some rest, please.” The please sounded pathetic in his own ears, a sign that despite his attempts to remain strong for the other survivors, he was suffering from the grief and loss of their shared companions.

The idea of losing them too was something he refused to linger on, a small sliver of hope remained in his heart despite the horrors that threatened their very lives.

CraftyCorn didn’t seem to mind the interruption, even going as far as lowering her hooves as she looked over at him, the red crayon in her grasp rolled to the floor with a quiet thump. “Be careful, DogDay.” Her voice was soft, it was a comfort in this trying time. As gentle as the very petals of the flower she once smelled like, an extension of her kind yet hardy nature.

He wanted to reassure her, to give her some hope that he might return. But that wasn’t a guarantee, he knew that.

Regardless, he nodded before approaching the door, opening it slightly before listening carefully for any sounds. Relieved to have been met with relative silence, he crept through the door before shutting it behind him. Complete silence was impossible for him to achieve, given his size and the overall state of the orphanage itself.

His movements were slow and deliberate, each placement of his hand or foot was mindful of the debris that lined the halls. Shattered picture frames with glass littering the floor and various toys that had once belonged to the children here were a common item to stumble across. There had been moments when the odd toy activated or some rotting piece of wood snapped under the pressure of a bed that rested upon it, but it was silent other than that.

His ears were active in keeping note of his surroundings, as his nose focused on the horrible scent of lavender and the intensity of it. It stuck to every crack and crevice of this building, yet it was relatively faint at the given moment, a positive in an otherwise grim situation. His eyes swept every open door that he passed by, peering into the room for several moments before moving on. To say he was tense and alert was an understatement, every fiber of his being stood on edge as he patrolled the halls.

He froze in his tracks as a sound caught his attention, a sound that he hadn’t been expecting to come across. It had been a sob, a shuddering and weak sound that left from an open door in front of him. Had he not been focused as intently as he was, he could’ve missed it. DogDay stayed in that position as he listened further, making sure that he hadn’t been imagining such a sound. His doubts were shattered as he heard the sound repeat, the fear in the weeping was unmistakable.

The thought didn’t even cross his mind that it could potentially be a trap, that some sick monster would be willing to mimic such a heartbreaking sound.

[v1lsxe]

THINGS TO SCRIPT --- ITEMS ; HOGWARTS

a coin pouch with no end ; it takes money directly from your vault. (perfect for when you just need that new quill from flourish and blotts.)

a field guide ; like in hogwarts legacy, it records spells, creatures, and artifacts you learn about in detail. like a diary, but much cooler.

an enchanted hairbrush ; bad hair days? not anymore. this brush works faster than any charm—and it doesn’t yank.

a potion that sharpens focus ; have an upcoming test you’re not ready for? worry not! studying with this efficient potion will ensure you an O grade. (warning: people might start asking you for study tips when they see your O grades. use at your own risk)

a mood-matching candle ; bright pink for excitement, deep blue for calm—handy for creating the perfect atmosphere or warning people to tread lightly !

a snack pouch with infinite snacks ; the real MVP during late-night study sessions and those never-bloody-ending train rides to hogwarts.

a spellbook that adjusts spells to your level ; it knows your learning style and gives you suggestions and tips to make spells easier to master - think of it as your personal tutor—minus the lectures when you accidentally set something on fire.

a quill that changes color ; because highlighting is overrated, and rainbow notes are just more fun.

a floating candle lantern ; follows you around and provides light in dark spaces. useful for late-night reading or sneaking into the forbidden section.

a handwriting charm quill ; say goodbye to illegible scrawls and hello to essays that actually impress. this quill will ensure your handwriting stays neat, no matter how rushed you are !

a plant-care pendant ; alerts you when your magical plants need watering or pruning. (even the pickiest venomous tentacula will thrive under your care with this little lifesaver.)

[oaksgrove]

Welcome Gift

Pairing: König x Reader

Synopsis: After moving to Austria to live with König, you find yourself overwhelmed by the unfamiliarity of a new country. From navigating the bustling streets to adjusting to the rhythm of life in a different culture, your nerves are stretched thin. But König, ever thoughtful and patient, is determined to make you feel loved and at home in every way possible. 

Warnings: none?

word count: 985

Salzburg streets bustled with a quiet charm, the winter air crisp as you and König walked hand in hand. Snow dusted the cobblestones, and warm lights glowed from shop windows, painting the city in hues of gold and white. It was picturesque, but your nerves were a jumble. Moving to Austria to live with König had been a leap of faith, and while you loved him deeply, adjusting to life here was proving to be a challenge.

You found yourself clutching König’s hand a little tighter than usual as you walked. Everything felt so new—unfamiliar faces, different languages, even the way people carried themselves. There was a rhythm to the city, it wasn’t unfriendly, just one you hadn’t quite learned yet, and while it was beautiful, it also left you feeling adrift in an ocean of the unknown.

“You’re quiet,” König said softly, glancing down at you. His Austrian accent, once a novelty when you first met, had become a comforting melody in your life.

“Just… taking it all in,” you murmured, giving him a small smile.

König slowed to a stop, turning to face you fully. His height meant he had to dip his head to meet your gaze, and his piercing blue eyes held a wealth of affection. “If it’s too much, we can take it slow,” he said, his large hand brushing softly against yours. “You’ve already done so much by coming here.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but his warm smile and the steady reassurance in his gaze stopped you. He leaned down slightly, his forehead almost brushing yours. “Let me spoil you today, ja?”

Before you could respond, König guided you toward a shop nestled between two taller buildings. Its display window glittered with jewelry—delicate chains, rings, and gemstones arranged with care. You blinked up at him, your brow furrowing.

“What are we doing here?”

“I told you,” he said, holding the door open for you. “A proper welcoming gift. Something beautiful to match you.”

You blinked, cheeks flushed at his words, your mouth opening and closing as you searched for a response. A welcoming gift? You’d thought the flowers he brought home every day were already more than enough, but König clearly had other ideas.

The interior of the shop was even more charming than the display outside—polished wood counters, velvet-lined cases, and a faint scent of lavender lingering in the air. A kindly older woman greeted König, her tone familiar and warm as she spoke in German. He responded easily, his voice dipping into the fluid rhythms of his native tongue.

You caught most of the exchange—your German was decent, though far from fluent—but nuances still slipped through your grasp. König noticed your tentative expression and gave you a soft smile. “This shop,” he explained, switching back to English, “is special. My mother, my sisters, even my grandmother—they’ve all come here over the years. It’s where my family buys things for… important moments.”

Your heart skipped at the significance of that statement. “König, that’s—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Now, let’s find something for you.”

He took his time examining the displays, occasionally asking the shopkeeper questions. Eventually, his gaze landed on a pair of earrings— a delicate silver design, teardrop-shaped with a subtle shimmer that wasn’t too flashy. Beside them was a matching necklace, simple yet elegant, with a single pendant that mirrored the earrings’ design. 

Turning to you, he gestured to them. “These. Do you like them?”

“They’re beautiful,” you murmured, your cheeks flushing. “But König, I can’t—”

“You can,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I want you to have something from here. So that when you wear it, you’ll remember how much it means to me that you’re here.”

The sincerity in his words left you speechless, and before you knew it, you were leaving the shop with a small, carefully wrapped box in your hands, almost too much to bear. You turned to König, your voice tentative. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You already have,” he said simply, taking your hand in his as he led you back into the bustling streets.

Later that day, the scent of fresh coffee and pastries filled the apartment as König emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate. On it was your favorite pastry, carefully chosen from a bakery he’d insisted on visiting earlier. He set it down in front of you along with a cup of coffee and a small stack of German vocabulary cards, each one handwritten with neat, blocky letters.

“I know your German is good,” he said, almost shyly, his towering form seeming a little smaller in the soft light of the kitchen. “But I thought these might help with the little things.”

You picked up one of the cards, your eyes skimming over his careful handwriting. “You made these?”

He nodded. “I want you to feel comfortable. To feel… like this is home.”

Your chest tightened at the depth of his thoughtfulness. “König,” you said softly, setting the card down to reach for his hand. “You’re spoiling me.”

He chuckled, crouching beside you so that you were eye level, his large hands cradling yours gently. “Maybe,” he admitted, his smile warm. “But I don’t mind. I want you to know how much you mean to me. You’ve made my life so much better just by being in it. Now that you’re here, I want to make sure you feel loved and safe every day.”

Your breath hitched, and you bit your lip, unable to find the words to express how much his actions meant to you. Instead, you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It was a quiet reassurance that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

König smiled against your lips, his hands tightening around yours. “Welcome home, meine Liebe,” he murmured.

[littlepeach-world]

Valentine's Paradise

Pairing: Frontman/Hwang In-Ho x Fem!Reader

Summary: In-ho surprises you for valentines day.

Warnings: Fluff, Gift Giving, Sweet!inho, Cute!Inho.

Word count: 1.04k

Notes: Feeding my delusions with this one 😭. Enjoy! 🧡

You and In-ho arrive at a beautiful, secluded island under a brilliant sky, the perfect place for a Valentine's Day getaway. The air is warm, carrying the scent of the ocean and blooming flowers. In-ho, always the planner, has orchestrated a surprise vacation that seems to have sprung from a dream.

As you walk hand in hand along the sandy path leading from the pier, your heart skips a beat at the sight of a stunning beach house emerging in front of you. The modern architecture melds seamlessly with the natural surroundings. You can't help but gasp, eyes wide with wonder.

Inho's deep, melodic chuckle fills the air as he finds your reaction utterly adorable.

"Do you like it?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

"It's beautiful. I can't believe you did all this," you reply, your voice filled with awe.

He smiles and lifts your hand to his lips, brushing it with a tender kiss before guiding you toward the entrance.

"Come on, there's more to see," he says, leading you inside.

Walking into the house, you are instantly enveloped by an aura of luxury and romance. Soft lighting, plush furnishings, and a color palette that feels both sophisticated and soothing greet you. However, what takes your breath away are the myriad gifts that adorn the living space, every corner of the room filled with beautifully wrapped presents. Each one thoughtful and personal, symbolizing Inho's love for you.

Overwhelmed, you gasp again and throw your arms around In-ho, your lips capturing him in a heartfelt kiss.

"Thank you, baby," you whisper, your voice brimming with emotion.

He holds you close, his smile warm and reassuring. "Anything for you, my love. Happy Valentine's Day."

Inho's eyes sparkle as he watches you unwrap the gifts, each one met with squeals of delight and wide-eyed wonder. The living room is filled with the sounds of your laughter and exclamations as you discover each thoughtful present he has chosen for you.

"Oh my gosh, this is stunning!" you exclaim, holding up a delicate piece adorned with a shimmering pendant.

"I'm glad you like it," In-ho replies, his voice warm with satisfaction. "It reminded me of you—elegant and radiant."

After opening the last box from In-ho, you can't help but let your gaze hover over a beautifully wrapped package that you've been saving just for this moment. Your heartbeat quickens with anticipation.

"I have something for you too," you say, a hint of excitement in your voice.

"You didn't have to get me anything" he replies, though his curiosity is clearly piqued.

"I know, but I really wanted to," you respond, handing him the box eagerly. "Go ahead, open it."

In-ho carefully unwraps the gift, removing the layers of paper to reveal an intricately crafted wooden box. His eyes widen in surprise as he lifts the lid and finds a vintage comic book lying inside, its cover adorned with vibrant illustrations.

"No way," he breathes, gently picking up the comic book and tracing his fingers over the familiar characters. "This... this is the comic I always wanted as a kid but could never find. How did you even get this? It's so rare."

You smile, watching the mix of emotions play across his face. "I did a lot of searching and had a little help from a few collectors. I wanted to give you something special, something that would bring back happy memories."

Inho's usually guarded demeanor begins to unravel, his eyes shimmering with genuine emotion as he gazes at the vintage comic book. His voice trembles slightly as he speaks, trying to hold back the full tide of his feelings.

"Jagiya this... this is incredible," he murmurs. "I can't believe you found it. It means more to me than you could ever know."

He pauses for a moment, collecting himself, but you can see the depth of his gratitude and the memories this gift stirs in him. The walls he's built seem to soften, revealing a more vulnerable side that touches your heart.

Unable to hold back any longer, In-ho steps closer, cupping your face gently with his hands. His eyes lock onto yours, filled with warmth and affection. "Thank you," he whispers again, this time more tenderly, as though the words are meant only for you.

In a moment that feels like the world has slowed to a breathtaking halt, he leans in and kisses you softly. It's a kiss laden with gratitude, affection, and a silent promise of love that needs no words.

You melt into the embrace, feeling the reassurance of his warmth and sincerity envelop you. Your arms find their natural place around him, holding him close as you both savor the intimacy of the moment.

After savoring the moment, your curiosity urges you to explore your surroundings further. Taking Inho's arm, you embark on a self-guided tour of the house. Every room seems more beautiful than the last, with expansive windows showcasing breathtaking views of the ocean and the verdant landscape.

"Look at those waves," you marvel, pointing to the surging ocean just beyond the glass. "It's like our own private paradise."

"That's exactly what I hoped you'd think," Inho says. He watches you with a gentle smile, his heart swelling with happiness at your delight.

After you've explored every nook and cranny, In-ho suggests you both freshen up to prepare for the evening. "Why don't we get ready for dinner? I have another surprise for you," he says with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

With excitement bubbling within, you take a refreshing shower, letting the water wash away any lingering traces of the day. Feeling invigorated, you dress up in your finest attire. As you slip into your elegant dress, you can't help but smile at the reflection in the mirror, feeling the magic of the evening envelop you.

"Ready, my love?" In-ho calls from the hallway, looking dashing in his tailored suit.

You step out, your eyes meeting his. "Ready," you reply, your voice filled with anticipation. Taking his arm once more, you follow him to whatever enchanting experience he has planned next, knowing this is a Valentine's Day you will treasure forever.

The setting for dinner is nothing short of magical—right next to the ocean, with rose petals scattered around and flickering candles casting a warm glow. The waves gently lap at the shore, providing a soothing soundtrack to your intimate meal.

The chef, specially hired by In-ho, presents your favorite cuisine, each dish more delectable than the last. The dinner is filled with laughter, shared memories, and sweet compliments. Inho's typically stern exterior melts away as he listens to your stories, his eyes reflecting warmth and adoration.

When the meal winds down, In-ho leans forward and asks, "Did you enjoy your day?" His voice is filled with genuine curiosity and a touch of vulnerability.

"More than enjoyed," you respond, your eyes meeting his. "Saying I enjoyed my day is an understatement. I'm more than pleased with everything you've done. I'm so grateful."

Inho's solemn nod is followed by another question, "Do you like the island?"

"It's beautiful," you reply, almost breathless with sincerity.

He pauses, then says, "It's yours."

You blink in confusion, your brows furrowing. "What?"

"The island," he clarifies with a gentle smile. "I bought it for you."

You are utterly stunned, your voice barely a whisper. "What..?"

Inho's gentle smile never falters as he repeats, "The island is yours."

Your voice rises in disbelief as you exclaim, "YOU BOUGHT ME AN ISLAND! WHAT THE FUCK?"

In-ho laughs softly, the humor in his eyes unmistakable. "What? Is it not big enough? We can always go find a bigger one."

You shake your head, a mixture of disbelief and affection in your eyes. "You don't have to spend so much on me. I love you regardless of what..." Your words trail off as Inho pulls you close, guiding you to sit on his lap.

His arms wrap around you securely as he kisses you passionately, pouring all his unspoken devotion into that kiss. When he pulls back, his voice is low and earnest. "Money means nothing compared to you. There’s no amount of money that could ever measure up to what you mean to me."

In that moment, the world feels perfect. Your lips meet his again, and you know that no matter the luxury or grandeur, it’s this simple, profound love that makes everything truly precious.

[fresitasmoribund]

frame by frame

-`♡´- pairing: Poly!Wolfstar x Fem!Reader

-`♡´- summary: Your first time working with Sirius and Remus - of course you're going to be nervous.

-`♡´- contains: model!sirius, model!reader, photographer!remus, modern au

-`♡´- masterlist

-`♡´- word count: 1.3k

-`♡´- a.n: this was the oneshot that made me have a two-month writer’s block… this was gonna be so much longer but I literally cannot LOL

You narrowly miss a huge puddle as you speed-walk as fast as you can to the location of the photoshoot. You haven’t checked your phone, afraid of it slowing you down, but you can feel you’re late.

Holding the handle of your umbrella tighter, you mutter curses under your breath. What a great first impression, you think to yourself. My first time working with a high-profile model and photographer, and I’m late. You’re sure your agent is going to murder you.

The hotel exuded chic sophistication: polished wood surfaces gleamed under the soft glow of amber pendant lights, and an energetic buzz fills the air as the team flits between tables. Your shoes click against the floor as you slip through the entrance, heart pounding. The strap of your bag was slipping off of your shoulder for the third time since you’d stepped out of the taxi. A quick glance at your phone confirms it – late. Not disastrously, but enough to have you inwardly groan.

“Brilliant start,” you murmur, tugging your bag back into place and folding your umbrella.

Before you spiral too far into self-recrimination, a voice cuts through the muted din of clinking glasses and conversations.

“There she is!” The rich, velvety voice carries across the room, instantly turning heads. Your cheeks warm as you hurry toward him, your steps a mix of soft clicks and light bounces. He leans casually against the bar, his grin as radiant as the spotlight he so clearly deserved. “We were starting to think you’d been kidnapped by a rival agency.”

Your shoulders sag with relief, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You hope your voice doesn’t sound as unsteady as you feel. “Wouldn’t that have been a story?”

Sirius pushes off the bar and strolls over for proper introductions. His charm is practically tangible. Just as he reaches you, another figure merges from the cluster of crew members setting up. Remus approaches with a clipboard in hand – the perfect calm counterpoint to Sirius’ vibrant energy. His smile is soft and reassuring as his eyes meet yours.

“No worries,” he says, his voice lower and smoother than Sirius’ but no less welcoming. “You’re right on time for the fun part.”

You nod, the tension in your frame slowly unwinding. “Thanks. I was worried I’d throw everything off.”

Sirius let out a laugh, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. “Our world revolves around pretty girls like you. You could’ve arrived an hour late, and we’d still be waiting.”

Remus gives him a sideways glance, his lips twitching in barely concealed amusement.

“We’ve only just finished setting up,” he clarifies, his eyes crinkling ever so slightly.

“Come on then.” Sirius throws an arm out to gesture toward a corner of the restaurant where the stylist is. “Let’s get you sorted. Big day ahead, yeah?”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat as you allow them to guide you deeper into the space.

The stylist ushered you to a corner sectioned off with screens. The team works like a well-oiled machine in the background, and you see the occasional test flash of a camera. You can feel the liveliness, and it’s only heightened by the nervous flutter in your chest.

“This is yours,” the stylist says, holding up a dress with reverence. It was breathtaking: a sleek black silk that shimmers faintly under the soft lights, with delicate lace accents that hint at sophistication without overstating. The smooth fabric is cool against your fingertips.  

Slipping behind the screen, you take a deep breath as you begin to change. The silk whispers against your skin, a perfect fit that clings to your frame in all the right places. Once dressed, you turn to face the full-length mirror propped against the wall, smoothing out any wrinkles in the fabric. Your heart races.

“I can do this.” You stare at your reflection like you can will the confidence into existence. “It’s just a shoot. With two very hot guys.” You bit your lip, rolling your eyes at yourself. “We’re professionals.”

The makeup artists gives you a final sweep of powder, a quick touch of a frosty gloss, and then steps back with a satisfied nod.

“You’re all set,” she smiles brightly, and the stylist chimed in with an agreement as she adjusts the strap on the dress.

You stand up and step out from behind the screen just as Sirius saunters over, his grin lighting up the space around him. He gives you a once-over, his eyes glittering with unmistakable appreciation.

“Feeling alright, love?” he asks, voice playful but with a sincerity that softened the edges. “You look so good; I fear I might get distracted.”

Your cheeks warm, but you manage a small smile. “High praise coming from you.”

“It’s only the truth,” he says with a wink, hands tucked casually into his pockets as if he hasn’t just made your heart skip a beat.

Remus, who has been adjusting the lighting nearby, glances up and chimes in. “He’s right. You’ll warm up as you go, I’m sure.”

You inhale deeply, letting their easy confidence in you take root. Your nerves don’t vanish completely, but they shift into something more bearable – a nervous excitement that sparked rather than suffocated.

“Ready?” Sirius asks, extending a hand toward the bar.

The first shoot begins just as you settle in front of the lights pointing toward the bar. Sirius is already in position, leaning against the counter with effortless poise. His tie is loosened just enough to seem rakish; his hair is tucked behind his ear to expose the left side of his face.

You step into your mark opposite of him, and every muscle in your body suddenly becomes hyperaware. His smile is maddening, his pose causal yet commanding. Meanwhile, you feel like a bundle of awkward limbs trying not to fall over.

“Alright, darling,” Sirius drawls. “Just pretend I said something devastatingly charming.”

You laugh nervously, trying to match his energy. But as the camera clicks, you realize how rigid you are. Your arms are still, shoulders tight, fingers curling like they don’t know where to go. It was like it was your first time all over again. You’re not usually this nervous. How does he make it look so easy?

“Relax.” Sirius clearly read your mind. He straightens slightly, rotating his shoulders in a slow, exaggerated roll. “We’re not mannequins. We breathe, we stretch.”

He demonstrates again, the movements so fluid it makes you want to sigh with envy. “Come on, try it with me.”

You hesitate, then mimic his shoulder roll. It feels ridiculous at first, but Sirius gives you an approving nod. “There we go. Much better already.”

From behind the camera, Remus steps forward, his gaze calm and steady as he considers you.

“Think about it like this.” His voice is thoughtful and deliberate. “If you were having a secret conversation with him,” he gestures to Sirius, “what would it look like?”

Heat rises to your cheeks at the thought. The idea makes you feel like you are being examined, and more like you were part of something intimate – something shared. You angle your head just a tad, letting the thought play out in your mind. And almost without meaning to, your lips part and the sides curve into a small smirk.

“Now you’re getting it.” Sirius smiles. He leans in, raising a brow as if he can hear the imaginary exchange you conjured,

The camera clicks rapidly as Remus’ voice cuts through occasionally. “Yes, that’s in. Hold that for me, love.” His praise felt sincere and grounding – a subtle tether keeping you steady.

“Perfect,” Sirius adds, his grin widening. “And just think – we’ve only just started.”

Bit by bit, you feel the tension eases out of you, and your movements become more natural. They keep the energy light, Sirius throwing in the occasional quip, and Remus’ steady voice offering praise like, “That’s gorgeous, stay there.”

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

My precious Jewel ♧

Bale!Bruce Wayne x soon-to-be wife!reader

A/N: I got carried away. I'm very passionate about Bale!Bruce and just lost control at one point. I'm not sorry, hehe! This is for all my Bale!Bruce girlies. Can be read for any Bruce, though! Enjoy!

~Fi 🪻

Prompt: Bruce spoiling you to the high heavens and only wanting your love in return.

Requested by: my lovely mutual @vampkennedy

Warnings: NFSW CONTENT. proceed with caution. PiV, creampie, very very fluffy, kinda possessive Bruce

Word count: 3.6k

PART 2 ♡

Please don't copy my work. I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

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❤️◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇💍◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇❤️

There was not a morning where you didn't wake up like this. You were alone, yes, but you knew he wasn't far. He never was. This had turned into a game of sorts. A spiel where he would shower you in lavish gifts every single morning. It was his way of showing you just how much you meant to him and that you held his heart in your hands.

You sat up in your shared bed and stretched your arms, letting out a yawn. Your gaze fell to the sliver of light that your curtains couldn't keep out. Getting up, you followed it carefully, knowing that he wanted you to. He was Bruce Wayne, nothing was a coincidence. Everything was intenional. A small, red box sat on your vanity, a note right next to it. It was being perfectly illuminated by the slice of sunshine cutting through the darkness of the room. A smile crept onto your face as you read the note your lover had left you.

My beloved,

May this bring a sparkle to your life, just as you have brought to mine.

Love,

Bruce ♡

You rolled your eyes at how corny this was, but it still tugged at your heart strings in the best way possible. Every day there would be a new box and note for you to discover. Placing the gifts in just the right spot and, like today, draping the curtain just at the perfect angle to guide the way to his love. He was always awake before you were but that didn't stop him. He'd never missed a day and you doubt he ever would.

You looked forward to this as well, but not because of the jewelry or whatever other expensive gifts he had prepared. No. It was the notes. It were the cruelly scribbled down words that made your heart beat out of your chest.

You loved the gifts as well, but the notes held a special place in your heart. Putting down the piece of paper, you carefully picked up the tiny box and opened the lid. Your mouth fell slightly agape at the sight before you. In the smooth, white pillows sat a delicate necklace. It was glistening in the morning glow ever so nicely.

A beautifully crafted rose pendant hung from it, the intricate petals were cold to the touch as you gently grazed the tips of your fingers over them. This had been one of most extravagant presents he'd ever given you. Bruce did always call you his flower. You brought so much to his once dull and gray life; his heart and soul bloomed like the delicate daffodils did in early spring everytime he thought of you. You brought color and joy. Just like flowers did.

"Oh, Bruce..." you sniffled, the smile on your face hurting your cheeks. Carefully picking it up, you placed it around your neck and fastened the clasp. It fit perfectly, sitting ever so delicately on your skin. You admired yourself in your vanity mirror, your fingers slightly grazing the skin just around the necklace.

You couldn't wait to show Bruce. Yes, he'd picked it out but it looked so different on you than it did on the silken interior of the small box.

Throwing on one of your many, many silk robes that Bruce insisted on getting in every single color, you quickly made your way down the grand staircase. The cold marble tiles sending a delightfully cool feeling up your spine each time you took a step. You rushed down the stairs, a steady grasp on the railing. The sunlight streaming in through the many windows fell right onto your ring.

Slowing your pace, you held your hand up to the light and examined the shimmering band. A reminder of his love. He had proposed to you just a few days ago. It was incredibly special, just the two of you under the stars. He popped the question in the stunning garden of Wayne manor that Alfred worked so hard on.

Speaking of Alfred, he was more excited than either of you. He had to sit down and went through an entire box of tissues when you broke the news. What a kind soul. You had the dumbest smile on your face recalling the events from a couple of days ago. Letting out a squeal, you pressed your hands to your heart. You were getting married. Not only that, but to him. The love of your life.

You couldn't wait any longer, you had to see him. Hurrying the rest of the way to the dinning hall, you composed yourself before entering. And the sight. Dear God. Bruce was sat at the head of the table in his boxers and a white T-shirt, coffee cup in one hand, newspaper in the other. He looked so domestic, so peaceful. Not like previous nights where he'd limp in, all battered and bruised.

Slightly looking up, his furrowed brows were immediately replaced with a wide grin when he spotted you. Putting down the mug and the paper he got out of his chair, walking your way. You met him halfway, your arms thrown loosely around his neck as his snaked around your waist.

"If it isn't my beautiful wife." He grinned, tracing circles on your waist with his thumb. "Ah, soon-to-be wife." You corrected him, the smile on your cheeks never leaving. He chuckled lowly and shook his head. "What took you so long, Honey?" He questioned softly. You laughed at his eagerness to see you. "I was held up by your generosity, Mr. Wayne." You teased, taking one of his hands and placing it on your collarbone, right next to the stunning piece of jewelry.

His gaze fell to your neck and his smile faded, leaving him wide-eyed and with his mouth slightly agape. He tenderly caressed your soft skin with his thumb, tracing the shape of the necklace. "I knew it'd be perfect," He breathed out, followed by a breathy chuckle. Your cheeks flushed and you brought his hand up to your lips, placing a kiss on his knuckles.

"Thank you, Sweetheart. For all these precious gifts. For always making me wake up with a smile on my face. You've made me the happiest girl in the world." You confessed, the softest smile on your face. Bruce swear his heart just melted inside his chest. He made you the happiest girl in the world? You have no idea how happy you made him. He felt invincible, like the king of the world. He was convinced he only needed your love to accomplish whatever he set his mind to. You were his oxygen, the blood in his veins, the very spirit of his soul.

Bruce was determined to show you just how much you meant to him, if that was possible. "Anything for you, my love." He said, having the most adoring look in his eyes. You'd placed your hand on his cheek in the meantime, the golden engagement band cold against his skin. "I love you, Bruce." You whispered, gently leaning in for a tender kiss. He didn't hesitate, pulling you closer to him by your waist. You relaxed against his lips, tightening the grip you had on the back of his neck.

You needed more, you needed him. He chuckled against your lips but complied, deepening the kiss. Pulling away for air, you were breathless and your lips were puffy. He would kiss you breathless forever if he could. And God knows you would let him. His playboy days paid off for something because this man could kiss. And you loved how you were the only one to feel those kisses.

"Look at you. My eager, little wife." A sly smirk was on his face and he made sure to emphasize the last word. You opened your mouth to correct him again, but he quickly interrupted you with another breathtaking yet soft kiss. You didn't now why you were so easily flustered by his kisses, you'd been together for years. There just something so electric and new about being his. Truly being his. Him being yours.

"I know we're not married yet, but I can call you whatever I want. You're mine." He said lowly, pupils dilated. His grip on your waist tightend. He's never done that. Never called you his. Told you you were his. It was implied, of course, but he'd never said the actual words. You just stood there, face flushed to the high heavens with the biggest lovesick smile on your face. His tone softened again when he spoke.

"I want you to wear the necklace to the Gala tonight." Your brows furrowed and you slightly tilted your head in confusion. "What Gala?" You asked, no idea what he was talking about. "Oh, it's a... spontaneous thing. There's a new dress in the closet." He answered. You squinted your eyes in suspicion. "Spontaneous, huh? Also, we talked about this, Sweetheart. I don't need a new dress for every event! I've barely worn the other hundreds." You laughed.

He just grinned in response. You knew he loved to see you in something new each time, he loved spoiling you. Only the best for his love. "That's where we disagree. Would you wrap a diamond ring in used wrapping paper?" He teased. You playfully rolled your eyes at him. "No, I wouldn't." You sighed.

"All the other dress just can't keep up with your inner beauty." He breathed, a soft look in his eyes. You folded. You could never be upset with him for long, you loved him too much. "Fine, I'll wear it. You're lucky I love you," you pouted. He wanted you to never stop saying that. That you loved him. Something he'd longed for, for so long. To be loved, truly loved. Not for his money, his status, his looks. But because of who he was. And you did just that. From the odd noises he made when he slept, to the extremely bad jokes he made. You were always there, tending to his wounds, whether they affected his body or his soul. Holding him so softly after a hard night, he feared you'd crumble under his calloused hands.

"Well, I'll get ready for the day. I'll see you later, okay?" You said, pressing a quick peck to his lips. He hummed in response as you slipped from his grasp.

"Honey?" you turned around, already halfway up the stairs.

"There will be a lot more press and paparazzi there today," he said. "Why?" You asked curiously, fully turning around on the stairs. "They're expecting Mrs. Wayne." He shot you a wink and gave you one of those signature smiles as he walked away.

He was right. There were a lot more people. The streets leading up to the location were lined completely with camera wielding, and very nosy paparazzi and news anchors. Everyone was hoping to catch a glimpse. This was huge for the press. They probably thought that this day would never come. Bruce Wayne, Gothams millionaire playboy was settling down? Impossible. The moment you stepped out of the car they were all over you. Invading your personal space, shoving cameras and microphones in your face. This was sensational. They wanted to know more about the woman who tightly held Bruce Wayne's heart in her delicate hands.

They had written some pretty bad stuff about Bruce in the past, not that he cared. But when one peticular news article labeled you as just a trophy wife, all hell broke loose. He sued them until bankruptcy. How dare they. How dare they lable his wife, his world, his precious jewel, as just a trophy. You were the light of his life, you loved him and he loved you. He loved you more than they would ever know and he would burn them to the ground if they ever suggested otherwise again. No press had the guts to call you names again, or they would feel the wrath of a very in love Bruce Wayne.

He came to your rescue pretty quickly. Positioning himself between you and the paparazzi, acting as human shield. Bruce gently placed a hand on the small of your back and pushed you through the doors. You let out a breath you didn't know you held.

"Jesus, do they not have better things to do.." you mumbled, hooking your arm with his. "This is their job, so no, Honey." He grinned. You rolled your eyes at him. You knew that, but did they have to be so obnoxious? If they asked nicely maybe you would actually answer some of their absurd questions. You made your way into the center of the room where the upper class of Gotham was already mingling with a glass of very expensive champagne in hand.

Bruce couldn't stop glancing over at you. The floor length, satin gown was tailored to perfection, showing of your body in the best way. The rose necklace sat nicely around your neck, sparkling under the bright light of the many chandeliers. Your hair was in an updo, showing off your earrings perfectly as they lightly swaying as you walked. Your soft hands were decorated with the many rings he had showered you with, the extravagant engagement band catching everyone's eye.

God, you looked so elegant on his arm, almost floating along the granite floor. The bright smile on your lips melted his heart as you greeted people. Unimportant people, if you ask him. "You look absolutely beautiful, my love," he whispered in your ear, his breath fanning over your neck, sending a chill down your spine.

"You flatter me, Darling. I'm glad you wore this suit, it's my favorite," you gently ran your hand down his chest. It too, was tailored just right. His heart beat faster. He didn't know you had a favorite suit. One that you longed to see him wear because it just made him look that good. "What's this Gala for anyway?" You asked, toying with the lapel of his jacket.

"Oh, you know, just some... charity," he responded with a breathy laugh. You raised your eyebrows at him. Your eyes widened in realization and a knowing smirk made its way on your pretty face. "Did you plan this whole thing just to show me off?" You questioned amused. He stumbled over his words, a very rare occurrence.

"What? Of course not, Honey, that-that'd be absurd-" you interrupted him by pressing a finger over his lips. "Fine. Let them see. Let them see how much I love you." You whispered, smashing your lips to his in a hungry kiss. One hand was on the back of his neck, keeping him close to you, the other was steadied on his chest. His hands instinctively snaked around your middle, holding you tightly.

All eyes were on you, hushed whispers and gasps filling the room. You pulled away, chest heaving. Bruce's pupils were dilated. "God, you're perfect..." he whispered breathlessly. He couldn't wait to leave this stupid event and shower you in his affection.

The Gala was a success and you were finally back at the manor. You were standing in front of the mirror in your bedroom and admired yourself one last time before you'd take it all off. Bruce came up behind you, the jacket of his suit discarded and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist and dropped his head into the crook of your neck, trailing kisses along your exposed skin. You let out a breathy laugh. "Look who's eager now," you teased.

Bruce chuckled against your neck. "Can you blame me when you look like that?" He said lowly. He dragged his hands up your back and slowly pulled the zipper to your dress down. With a gentle brush of his hand, he let the dress slip off your shoulders and onto the floor. You were left in nothing but your panties, which quickly joined your gown and the floor as he pushed them down your plush hips.

"You're a little overdressed, don't you think?" You said softly, yet seductively as he continued placing wet kisses along your bare shoulder and neck. "You tell me, Honey," he answered. The taste of your skin was intoxicating. You turned around, putting your hands on his chest and slowly pushing him towards the bed. When the back of his thighs hit the bed, he sat down, pulling you into his lap.

"I think you are," you mumbled hazily, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the ground. You moved your hips over his hard cock, straining against his pants. A low groan erupted from his throat at your actions. You could feel your wetness dripping from you, leaving a wet patch on his crotch. He pulled you in for a desperate kiss as you reached down to unbuckle his belt and slip off his pants.

Bruce was left in his boxers, which were quickly taken care of. His throbbing cock sprung free, hitting his stomach. You took his dick into your ring clad hand and pumped up and down a few times, making his head fall back. "Fuck, Baby..." he groaned, squeezing your hips. Lifting your hips, you lined his length up with your pussy and sank down onto it, a long moan falling from your lips. "G-God.. you fit so well. It's like you were made for me.." you mumbled out, your hands finding their place on his shoulders. He was made for you, he was sure of it. He was yours, until the end.

He moaned out your name when you started moving your hips, which he guided with his hands. You tangled your fingers in his soft hair, occasionally tugging and pulling at it. Bruce looked up at you as you bounced on his cock. Your beautiful face was contorted in pleasure, and the jewelry he had bought you still adorned you so nicely. There was a layer of sweat covering your skin, making you shine. Just like your necklace glistened in the dimly lit room. You looked like a Goddess above him, decorated with delicate pieces of jewelry. Jewelry he bought for you.

God, he wasn't sure he wanted to fuck you another way ever again. Your ring was cold against his skin, reminding him that you were his. For him to take, however he pleased. He would buy every diamond in Gotham if it meant having a sight like this before him. Your hips started moving faster, as you moaned. "Shit...M'getting c-close," you breathed out, letting your head fall against his shoulder.

He was almost upset at you for taking away his privilege of admiring you, but he never got the chance once he heard your cute little moans and whines right beside his ear. "Me too, Honey, keep going.." he panted. You pressed your body to his, your tits sitting beautifully against his chest. Bruce glanced down and saw the curves of your soft tits adorned with the stunning necklace.

It molded to their curve so perfectly, making him tighten the grip on your hips, frantically moving you up and down his cock. He chased his release, your warm, wet walls feeling too good. You gasped as his dick hit that one that that made your head spin. "Oh fuck, I can't wait to call you my husband.." you rambled out, barely registering what you'd confessed.

That pushed him over the edge as he shot his load inside you with a guttural groan, filling you up. Your husband. That was music to his ears. That's all he wants, to be yours, to be loved by you. You clenched around him and came with a cry of his name. Panting, you pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "Did you mean that?" He asked quietly, kneading the flesh of your hips.

"Did I mean what?" You asked, breathing heavily. Bruce hestitated, letting out a nervous chuckle. "That you can't wait to call me your husband."

"Oh.. I did. I love you so much, Sweetheart. More than you'll ever know. My heart is yours, Bruce," you said softly, stroking his cheek. "I love you too, Honey." He responded, kissing you passionately.

"I'll draw us a bath," you breathed, raking your fingers through his locks. He hummed in response, reluctantly letting go of you. You slipped off his cock. He watched his cum trickling down your thigh as you walked towards the bathroom. He groaned at the sight, falling back onto the bed with a smile.

Bruce was laying with his head against your chest, surrounded by bubbles and soap. His back was pressed to your front and your hands were wrapped around him. You could feel him relax against you, the tension in his shoulders fading. "I keep them, you know," you said softly from behind him. The water rippled as he turned his head to look at you.

"Keep what?" He asked. "The notes. The ones you always place next to my gifts? I keep all of them," you spoke, tracing patterns on his pecs. "You do?" He smiled. "Yeah, I read them when you're gone and I'm feeling sad. They're in a box in my nightstand." You mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I love you so much, Honey," he said quietly. "I love you more, Bruce."

From that moment on, he put more effort into his notes. They keep getting longer and longer, almost turning into letters as he confessed his love to you every single day. You would still read them when you're old and gray, because his love for you would never fade. Just like how your love for him would never be lost to time, you would love him until the end, continuing in your next life. Your souls and hearts were bound, and they would never stop searching until they found eachother once again.

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[ultravi0lence14]

White Winter Hymnal

dean winchester x fairy!reader

1.5k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: a trip to a snowy cottage in vermont has dean finding what he truly yearns for.

the forest cottage you resided in glistened in the winter air. snow decorating your roof and brushing against the plants and flowers you had decorated the front steps with. it was december in vermont, and the snowy weather and cold chill sent most of your forest friends to different, more warm climates

you didn’t seem to mind though, having your multitude of indoor animals to keep you company. you didn’t interact with the townspeople, not seeing the need for you to have your animals to keep you company. yeah, you sounded like a freaky old cat lady but you really didn’t seem to mind.

it came as a shock when a light knock was heard on your front door one morning. you didn’t get a lot of visitors, and you noticed your pet dog winnie charging towards the entryway and started barking and growling by the window.

tentatively, you walked towards your front door and slowly peeked out of the peephole. standing on your porch were two men dressed in suits and really long coats. you didn’t know why they were here, for you’d never met them in your life and you couldn’t think of what they would want with you.

slowly opening the door, you peeked your head tentatively through the small crack of your opened door. there was a tall and a short one, both having looks on their faces like they knew something they shouldn’t.

the shorter of the two didn’t even great you, nor did he let you even speak before he was asking his questions very directly “you’re a fairy right?”

and that was what the looks on their faces were for.

your eyes widened slightly, ushering them in as you opened your door a little wider. “how do you know that?” you spoke as you closed the front door behind you, turning around to see the two men standing by your living room.

“we’re hunters, that's how.” the taller one spoke less bluntly than his companion, and he actually followed up with an introduction. “i’m sam winchester by the way, and this is my brother dean.”

you just nod, taking in the two as you guide them over to your couch. sitting down, the three of you just stare at each other awkwardly. you not knowing the reason they are here and both sam and dean not knowing how to go about what they need to say.

finally, after what felt like ages, sam cleared his throat and began explaining why he and his brother were at your door. apparently there was a witch in your town, and according to folklore fairies and witches were very well akin to each other.

they weren’t wrong. witches did use to reside in forest’s, leaving them to be around fairies more often than not. it wasn’t like some sort of sixth sense type of thing. it was more of a spidey sense in hindsight. when you came in contact with a witch, it was like you just knew. and that’s why sam and dean needed your help.

dean watched as you and sam conversed, not being able to take his eyes off of the way you looked when sam mentioned something you knew a lot about. he couldn’t help but marvel at your excitement, see how your face lit up. though, when he saw sam looking at him funny, he had to act cool and like he wasn’t just being a total creep.

“so basically we just need you to join us around town, see where this witch is.” dean’s words were more straight forward than sam’s, but you really didn’t see the harm in helping them. it was innocent help, and you’d be ridding the town of an evil witch apparently.

getting up from the couch, you just smiled at the two brothers. “okay, i’ll help. just let me get changed first.”

as you walked up your stairs, sam noticed that dean was watching you walk away. he was taking in your features, and sam realized how his brother had been doing this when you were talking to them. he’d stare intently at your face, the way you laughed and watching your hair move back and forth like a hypnotists pendant.

it was quite glaringly obvious what dean was doing, and sam couldn’t help but turn to his brother and give him his classic bitch face.

dean noticed it from the corner of his eye, and he turned to look at sam with a confused and exasperated look. “dude, what is it? why are you staring at me like that?”

“why are you staring at her like that?” sam fired back instantly, watching as dean’s face burned a slight pink colour. “i’ve seen how you’ve been looking at her this whole time. she’s agreed to help us, and i am not letting you bang and dump her. she seems nice, and it honestly would be good to have a fairy on our side.”

dean just looked at sam bewildered, an almost offended look on his face. “i have not been staring at her.” sam gave dean the look, and dean couldn’t help but scoff a little and shake his head. “okay, her hair is very shiny. and i like the little freckles on her cheeks. but that doesn’t mean i just want to use and discard her, i have class.”

“yeah, class cause you like her.” sam’s matter of fact voice had dean giving him the stink eye, and than smacking him in the arm when he tried to get in another jab. “dude shut up, she’s coming back.”

turning his head as you descended towards the living room, dean felt his breath slightly catch in his throat. you were in sheer white tights, a mini denim skirt and form fitting black cardigan with a plain jacket over top. your bootie covered feet shuffled across the floor as you beckoned the two brothers over to your front door, signalling you were ready to go.

dean felt like a middle schooler. he had literally just met you ten minutes ago, yet he couldn’t help but stare at your beauty. the light makeup you had put on brightened up your features, making you look even prettier than before. dean didn’t know if all fairies looked this gorgeous, but he didn’t care because you were in front of him and you were making him weak in the knees.

the rest of the day was pure amusement for sam. watching as his brother — the notorious womanizer — followed you around like a lost puppy. he was like a dog chasing his bone, and you were any the more oblivious to it.

you bent down to pet a friendly dog; dean’s face almost hurt from smiling at your cooing voice. you yapped on and on about fairy lore and your own fairy lineage; dean listened so intently sam had to pull him away from walking into a pole. the best part was when you were telling him and sam all about your forest friends, even the cute little dog and cat you have at home; and dean acted like they were the best creations in the world.

as the sun started to set, sam and dean walked you back to your cozy cabin. you had found the witch in a nearby herbs shop, and the winchester’s decided that hunting her after they drop you off would probably be the best idea; not like you were complaining.

sam had waited by the car, knowingly winking at dean as he walked you to your front door. you stopped before the your entry way, turning towards dean and looking at the complete dopey smile on his face.

that man was absolutely down bad, and it seemed everyone knew it but him.

a light smile dawned on your face, and you couldn’t hold in your gratitude anymore. “thank you for letting me help today. it’s nice to know that i’m out doing good and not staying holed up in my home.”

dean just smiled back at you, one of the most genuine and least cocky looks that sam had ever seen on him around a girl. with a shake of his head, dean nodded his head in thanks and looked back up at you. “well i think your home is lovely.”

he sounded so silly, and you couldn’t help but grab a pen and a piece of paper out of your purse and write your number down on it. “i just got this phone last week,” you started, watching as dean eyed you with curiosity. “but i’m getting the hang of it. so i better see your name on that strange caller id thingy.”

dean found himself genuinely laughing at your sad attempt of a joke, and he took your number with gracious hands. “i’ll put it to good use.” he joked back, watching as your smile brightened and your face practically beamed with excitement.

before you went into your house, you turned around and gave dean a quick peck on the cheek, not even registering his reaction before you were in your house and eagerly waving goodbye.

he was stunned. and as he walked back to the impala, he could see sam’s smug expression written all over his face.

“dude, you are so whipped.”

[wonyowonyo]

Whispers Through Time (P. Hanni X M! Reader)

Guess who's back, it's none other than your ghosting author wonyo! Firstly, I'd like to apologize for my very long absence as life have just been too much of a bitch for me to have the time write. I can't certainly promise to update more in the future as I only have a week break right now, which is why I was able to write a new fic. This one's about 9k words, my longest? yet, so as always I hope you all enjoy this one and I'll see yall when I see ya.

The day had started like any other. Hanni strolled through the historic district, earbuds in, a soft breeze carrying the scent of aged stone and street vendors' offerings. She wasn’t quite sure what drew her into the small, dusty museum on the corner. Something about the old sign, its letters faded with time, beckoned her inside.

As she wandered past glass cases filled with relics—muskets, uniforms, yellowed parchments—her eyes landed on an antique pendant, its silver surface engraved with intricate symbols. She leaned closer, feeling an inexplicable pull.

“That belonged to an unknown revolutionary,” said an elderly curator, appearing beside her. His voice was soft, almost reverent. “No one knows his name, but legend has it he wore this during the final days of the rebellion.”

Hanni reached out, almost without thinking. Her fingertips brushed the glass, and a sudden rush of energy surged through her. The room seemed to spin, the walls melting into a blur of light and shadow. She gasped, stumbling backward—

And then, everything went dark.

————————————————————

When Hanni’s eyes fluttered open, the air was thick with smoke. Shouts echoed around her, mingling with the sharp crack of musket fire. She coughed, struggling to her feet, her heart pounding.

She wasn’t in the museum anymore.

Cobblestone streets stretched before her, lined with ramshackle buildings. People in period clothing—mud-smeared skirts, patched waistcoats—ran past, their faces twisted in fear or fury.

“This can’t be real,” she whispered, but the acrid sting of gunpowder in her nostrils said otherwise.

Suddenly, rough hands grabbed her arm. She spun around to find a young man, his dark eyes fierce beneath a tricorn hat. “You there! What are you doing out in the open?” he hissed, pulling her into a shadowy alley.

“I—I don’t know,” Hanni stammered, heart racing. “Where am I?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not from around here, are you? This is no place for a lost soul.” His voice softened slightly, though the urgency remained. “Come. We need to get off the streets. The Redcoats are out in force.”

Hanni followed him deeper into the alley, her mind a whirlwind. The dim passage was narrow, the sounds of chaos fading as they moved.

“What’s your name?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced back, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You can call me Y/n.”

————————————————————

Hanni followed Y/n through a maze of twisting alleys, her heart hammering in her chest. Every echo of musket fire or distant shout sent shivers down her spine. The air was thick with tension, the kind of fear and resolve that seemed to hang over the entire city.

Finally, Y/n stopped in front of a nondescript wooden door, its surface worn and weathered. He knocked three times in a specific rhythm. After a moment, the door creaked open, and a pair of wary eyes peered out.

"Another stray?" the man behind the door muttered, his voice gruff. He was older, with a scar running down one side of his face.

"She was wandering in the streets," Y/n replied, pushing the door open further. "We couldn't leave her out there."

The man sighed but stepped aside, letting them in. Hanni followed Y/n into the dimly lit room. It was small and crowded, with a handful of people huddled around a makeshift table, their faces lined with exhaustion. Maps and documents were spread out before them, illuminated by the flickering light of a single candle.

"Stay here," Y/n whispered, guiding her to a corner. "Don't draw attention to yourself."

Hanni nodded, sinking onto a tattered blanket. The reality of her situation was starting to sink in. This wasn't a dream. She had somehow been transported back in time, into the heart of a revolution. She watched as Y/n joined the others at the table, his expression serious as they spoke in hushed tones.

For a moment, she just observed him. There was a quiet intensity about him, a determination that seemed to burn beneath the surface. His clothes were worn, his face smudged with dirt, but his eyes—deep and fierce—were filled with a kind of resolve she'd never seen before.

————————————————————

After what felt like hours, Y/n returned to her corner, sinking down beside her. His shoulders sagged with exhaustion, but his eyes were sharp and watchful.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice soft but edged with tension.

Hanni nodded. "I... think so. I still don't understand how I got here."

Y/n studied her for a long moment, his gaze narrowing. "You keep saying that. What do you mean you don't know?" His tone was laced with suspicion now.

She hesitated. "It's... complicated. I come from a different time. A different world."

His eyes widened, and he leaned back slightly, as if she might be dangerous. "What are you talking about? Is this some kind of trick?" His voice rose slightly, drawing the attention of a few others in the room.

"No!" she whispered urgently, glancing around. "I know it sounds impossible, but it’s the truth. I was... in a museum, looking at an old artifact, and then... I woke up here."

Y/n's brow furrowed, his jaw clenched. "A museum? What kind of nonsense is that? You expect me to believe you came from... the future?"

Hanni swallowed hard. "Yes. I know how it sounds, but I swear, it’s true."

For a moment, he just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then he laughed bitterly. "People are risking their lives out there, and you think this is a game? Some story to entertain us?"

"It’s not a story!" Hanni insisted, her voice breaking. "I don’t know how or why, but I was pulled here. Into your time. I don’t belong here."

Y/n shook his head, his eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and anger. "I’ve seen men lose their minds in this war. Desperation makes people say all kinds of things. But this...?" He stood abruptly, pacing. "You expect me to believe you’re some kind of... time traveler?"

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "I don’t know why I’m here, but... I think maybe it’s to help. To change something. Maybe even to help you."

He stopped, his gaze fixed on her. "Help me? How could you possibly help?" His voice was low, almost a whisper now, but the doubt was clear.

"Because I’ve seen how history unfolds," she said, her voice trembling. "I know what revolutions can become. What people like you can achieve."

For a moment, Y/n just stared at her, his eyes searching hers. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft. "If you’re lying... it could cost lives."

"I’m not," she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Please. Just trust me."

The room was silent, the weight of her words hanging between them. Y/n's expression was still guarded, but there was something else now—a flicker of uncertainty, of hope.

"Then prove it," he said finally. "Show me something. Anything that could make me believe you."

Hanni’s heart raced. She had no idea how to prove what she was saying. But she knew one thing for certain: she had to make him believe.

————————————————————

Hanni’s mind raced, searching for something—anything—that would convince Y/n she was telling the truth. She opened her bag, still miraculously slung across her shoulder, and rifled through its contents. Amidst old receipts and a water bottle, she pulled out her smartphone.

Y/n's eyes narrowed. "What's that?" His voice was tight, wary.

"It’s… a device from my time," Hanni said, holding it out cautiously. She pressed the power button, but nothing happened—the battery had died. Her heart sank.

"It doesn’t even work," Y/n muttered, his voice dripping with skepticism. He turned away, his shoulders rigid with frustration. "You’re wasting our time."

"Wait!" Hanni pleaded. "Even if it doesn’t work now, it’s real. Look at it—it’s made of materials you don’t have here. It has no seams, no screws. I can’t explain everything, but… you have to believe me."

Y/n hesitated, reaching out to touch the device. His fingers traced the smooth glass screen, his brow furrowing. "It’s… unlike anything I’ve seen," he admitted, his voice softer now, tinged with curiosity. "But that doesn’t mean you’re from another time."

Hanni’s eyes filled with tears of frustration. "What will it take, Y/n? I didn’t choose this. I’m scared, just like you."

The raw emotion in her voice seemed to reach him. He looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment, the doubt wavered. "If what you say is true," he said slowly, "then why are you here? Why now?"

Hanni shook her head. "I don’t know. Maybe… maybe to help you. Maybe to change something."

Y/n’s eyes darkened. "Change what? We’re fighting a losing battle, Hanni. Every day, we lose more people. Hope is a dangerous thing here."

"But it’s all you have," she whispered, stepping closer. "You have to believe there’s a future worth fighting for."

For a moment, their eyes locked, and the tension between them shifted. The room seemed to shrink around them, the sounds of the rebellion fading into the background.

"You speak like someone who knows what we’re fighting for," Y/n said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you don't know our pain."

"I know courage," Hanni replied, her voice steady. "I see it in you. In all of you. And I know that what you’re doing matters."

Y/n’s expression softened, the walls he had built around himself beginning to crack. "You really believe that?"

"I do," she whispered.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Y/n nodded, a small, almost imperceptible gesture. "I don’t know if I believe your story," he said finally, his voice low. "But I believe in you."

Their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them—a fragile connection forged in the chaos of war.

————————————————————

The days passed like they were suspended in time, quiet moments broken only by the distant sounds of musket fire or the hushed whispers of rebels making plans. Hanni found herself swept deeper into the daily life of the revolution, but it wasn’t just the work that kept her there. It was the people. The people, and him—Y/n.

At first, it was the small things. He would catch her eye across the room and offer a slight nod of acknowledgment. There were moments when he would pause, as if considering saying something, but would always retreat back into himself, slipping into the shadows like he had before.

But each time, Hanni noticed. And slowly, his distant manner softened, though she could never quite understand why.

Her days were spent helping wherever she could. She learned how to prepare simple meals with the limited supplies they had—using techniques she never thought she’d need to know. When rebels returned from the front lines, bloodied and tired, she assisted in patching wounds and soothing the pain as best as she could with the little medicine they had. The acts were small, but the trust the rebels placed in her gave her a sense of purpose she hadn't expected.

Y/n, too, would linger on the outskirts, watching her in quiet contemplation. He would never ask her to do anything, but there was a silent appreciation in the way he observed her, a sense of something building just beneath the surface. Sometimes, he would glance her way, his expression unreadable, as though he was trying to piece something together.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching her, not just with his eyes but with something deeper, something more searching.

And yet, every time she saw him, Hanni was reminded of the truth she had buried deep in her mind. This wasn’t her world. These weren’t her people. And no matter how strong her connection with Y/n felt in the moment, it was all doomed to end the second she returned to her time.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care for him—it was the opposite. The more she saw of him, the more she understood his burdens, the more she felt for him, the more she realized how dangerous it was to get involved with someone in this time. How could she love someone who would never truly know her, who would never understand the world she came from?

Y/n’s life was a war. His fight was for something that might never be realized, something that could be extinguished by the very forces he fought against. What could she give him, knowing she didn’t belong here, knowing that every action she took would only alter their fate?

Her thoughts were spiraling when she found herself once again standing alone by the window of the safe house, staring out into the dark, wondering about the future.

She wasn’t even sure if she could call it "home" anymore. The longer she stayed, the more she learned, and the more she felt like she was betraying the very people who had taken her in. And Y/n—Y/n made everything feel more complicated.

It wasn’t fair to him. She was a ghost in his world, and she couldn’t even promise him a future. She’d always known she’d have to leave—whether she figured out how to go home or simply faded out of their history entirely. But the longer she stayed, the harder it would be to leave. It was only a matter of time.

Y/n found her there, his footsteps quiet on the stone floor. He said nothing at first, simply stood beside her, gazing out at the same starry sky that stretched endlessly above them.

Finally, it was Hanni who broke the silence. "You’re always so quiet," she said, her voice soft but carrying the weight of the question. "Don’t you ever get tired of keeping everything inside?"

Y/n’s eyes shifted to her, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he masked it with that same distant expression. He didn’t speak at first. Instead, he looked down at his hands, turning them over in his lap, as if weighing her words carefully.

"It’s easier that way," he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. "If you don’t say anything, they can’t use it against you. If you don’t let anyone in..." His words trailed off, and he fell into silence again.

Hanni wanted to say something, to offer some comfort, but she found herself too tangled in her own thoughts. There was something about him, something in his sadness that mirrored her own confusion. She wanted to understand him, to help him bear his burden, but the more she understood, the more complicated it became.

"Is it... that bad?" she asked softly, stepping closer to him. "The fighting, I mean. The way you’re always running, always looking over your shoulder?"

Y/n’s jaw clenched at her question, and for a moment, it seemed like he might shut down completely. But instead, he spoke again, though it was with a far-off look in his eyes—a look that seemed to carry years of loss, of moments he couldn’t forget.

"It’s not just the fighting," he said, his voice tinged with a quiet sorrow. "It’s the loss. It’s losing people, watching them fall one by one and knowing you couldn’t do enough. And it’s the guilt." His eyes met hers for the first time in what felt like forever, and there was a vulnerability there, raw and painful. "That’s what it is. The guilt. Because you can never do enough."

The weight of his words hit Hanni harder than she anticipated. She hadn’t been prepared for this side of him, the one he kept hidden beneath the steely resolve. There was so much pain, so much history she could never fully understand, no matter how hard she tried.

Her heart ached at the thought of the sacrifices he’d made, the endless battles he fought, and the people he had lost. But it wasn’t just sympathy she felt. It was a connection—a longing to help him, to take away some of that burden.

She stepped closer to him, her hand gently resting on his arm. "You don’t have to carry all of this alone," she murmured, her voice tender. "I’m here. I know it’s not much, but I’ll be here for you. If you need to talk, or just... have someone listen."

Y/n looked at her, his eyes softening for a brief moment. She could see the hesitation in him, as if he were unsure whether to accept her offer or push her away. But in the end, he didn’t pull back. He let her hand stay there.

Hanni didn’t know what else to say, so she simply stood there with him, offering him the silent support he didn’t know he needed. She wasn’t sure what would come next—whether he would open up or retreat even further into himself—but for now, she was content to simply be there, offering whatever comfort she could.

After a long pause, Y/n finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Hanni. I... I didn’t expect this. But it means more than I can say."

She gave him a small smile, her heart feeling lighter. "It’s nothing. You’ve been through so much, and I... I don’t know how to help, but I want to try."

For a long while, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the quiet hum of the night around them. And in that silence, they shared something unspoken—a brief moment of understanding, of connection, where the world outside seemed to fade away.

Y/n stood up slowly, as if considering his next words carefully. He didn’t speak, but there was a softness in his gaze as he looked down at her. Without saying anything more, he reached out, giving her a gentle, reassuring touch on the shoulder before turning back toward the door.

"Rest," he said quietly. "We have a long road ahead."

As he left, Hanni lingered by the window, looking out at the stars, a quiet ache in her chest. She wasn’t sure what the future held for her, for them, but in that moment, she knew one thing—she would stand by him, no matter what came next.

————————————————————

The safe house was quiet, save for the soft rustling of fabric as rebels settled in for the night. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the walls, the warm glow offering a sense of fragile peace in a world that had long forgotten calm.

Hanni sat alone in the corner, her knees tucked up to her chest, gazing into the dying flames of the hearth. Thoughts swirled in her mind, all tangled up in the confusing mess of her emotions. The more time she spent with Y/n, the harder it became to ignore the deepening bond between them.

She couldn’t lie to herself. She cared for him—perhaps more than she was willing to admit. But that didn’t change the fact that she was from the future, a stranger in this time. How could she possibly belong here, in a world she didn’t understand, with someone who could never understand her?

And yet, in moments like these—when the world outside was chaos and the people around her were fighting for survival—Hanni found herself leaning into something she hadn’t expected: connection.

Y/n had become something more than just a revolutionary leader to her. He was a person—a person with fears and dreams, someone who wore his pain on his sleeve when no one was looking. There was so much she wanted to ask him, to know about his past, his life before the rebellion. But she also understood that there were things he could never say. Some scars went too deep to be shared so easily.

The sound of soft footsteps broke through her thoughts, and she looked up to find Y/n standing in the doorway, his figure silhouetted against the darkness beyond.

"You’re still awake," he said, his voice low and steady, though there was a flicker of concern in his eyes.

Hanni nodded, offering him a small, uncertain smile. "Just thinking," she said quietly. "It’s hard to sleep sometimes, with everything that’s going on."

Y/n didn’t reply immediately, stepping further into the room and sitting across from her. His gaze was soft but intense, studying her as though trying to read the thoughts behind her guarded expression.

"You’re still thinking about everything, aren’t you?" His words weren’t accusatory. They were simply a statement of fact.

Hanni hesitated, then sighed, pulling her knees closer. "I don’t know how to stop. This place, this time... it feels like I’m caught between two worlds. One that I don’t belong to anymore, and one that I can’t quite seem to find my way into."

There was a long pause before Y/n spoke again, his voice quiet but warm, as if he understood the weight of her words in a way that no one else could. "I know how you feel. Being stuck between two places. Torn between your past and your future."

Hanni’s heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t sure if he meant it in the way she thought, or if it was just a way to connect. Either way, it felt like an opening—an invitation to say more, to let him in.

"I didn’t think it would be like this," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t think I’d get attached. To you, to all of this. But I have. I’ve seen how you lead, how you fight. How much you care. And I’ve started caring, too. But I can’t..." She faltered, shaking her head, as if the words weren’t enough to express the conflicting emotions inside of her. "I can’t be the person you need, not when I’m from a world you can never know."

Y/n’s expression shifted then, his gaze softening with understanding. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes not leaving hers. "I don’t need you to be anything but yourself," he said, his voice sincere, as if the weight of his words carried more than just a comforting gesture. "I’ve been through a lot, Hanni. And I know what it’s like to feel like you're an outsider. But here, with us... you’ve already become part of something bigger. Part of the fight. And no matter where you came from, that means something."

Hanni’s chest tightened at his words. The weight of them settled over her like a warm blanket, but it also felt heavy, because she knew that soon, she would have to leave. Her time here, however much it felt like home, was not real. It couldn’t be real. Not in the way she wanted it to be.

And yet, she couldn’t help but feel an undeniable pull toward him. Y/n had been her anchor in this strange world, offering her moments of comfort when all she could do was stand on the sidelines and watch as history unfolded around her.

"Thank you," Hanni said softly, her voice almost cracking. "For saying that. It means more than you know."

Y/n’s eyes met hers, and for the briefest of moments, the room seemed to fall away. There were no sounds of rebellion, no distant gunshots, no whispering fears about the future. There was only this—this quiet moment where they both understood what was unsaid.

Y/n’s hand reached out then, resting lightly on hers. It was a simple gesture, but to Hanni, it felt like an unspoken promise. She didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if she’d ever see him again once she left, but in that moment, with the quiet hum of the world around them, she allowed herself to be present. To be there for him. And to let him be there for her.

They sat in silence for a while, the tension between them slowly easing. As the night deepened, Y/n stood up and extended his hand toward her, a small, wry smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"You’ve been working hard. You deserve a rest."

Hanni looked up at him, her eyes still heavy with unspoken words. But she nodded, accepting his gesture without hesitation. She didn’t need to say anything. They didn’t need words to understand each other right now.

Instead, they stepped outside into the cool night air, where the stars hung like tiny pinpricks of light in the vast expanse of the sky. The quiet of the world felt different here—softer, as if the very earth itself was holding its breath.

Y/n’s hand brushed against hers as they walked side by side, an unspoken understanding passing between them. They stopped for a moment, standing under the canopy of stars, each of them lost in their thoughts, but also somehow connected in that quiet solitude.

"This is freedom, isn’t it?" Hanni asked, her voice barely audible, but steady. "The kind you’re fighting for."

Y/n looked up at the stars for a long moment, his eyes reflecting the distant light. "Maybe," he murmured. "Freedom isn’t always about what’s out there—it’s about what we can hold onto, what we believe in, even when everything seems impossible."

Hanni nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle in her chest. It was something she had been struggling to understand for days, ever since she arrived. Freedom wasn’t just about returning to her time, to her world—it was about what she could give in the here and now, even if it meant staying with him, with them, for as long as she could.

Y/n turned to her then, his eyes softer than they had been before. "We’ll get through this. Together."

And for the first time since arriving in this strange, violent era, Hanni allowed herself to believe him. Not because she was sure of the outcome—but because, right then, in that moment, it felt true.

They stood there for a while longer, side by side, under the vast, starry sky. The night was still, but the air between them was charged—full of the unspoken things they both needed but hadn’t yet found the words to express.

For a moment, Hanni forgot the distance between their worlds. She only knew the quiet comfort of his presence, and the strange but undeniable peace of the moment they were sharing.

————————————————————

The days seemed to stretch into one another, a mix of quiet moments and heavy responsibilities. Time, it seemed, was a constant weight pressing down on Hanni. Each passing day brought them closer to an inevitable confrontation with the colonial authorities, and Y/n’s position within the movement was more precarious than ever.

Hanni had long known that Y/n was a target for the regime. His intellect, his strategies, his speeches—everything about him made him a threat. The more she became involved with the rebels, the more she realized just how dangerous it was for him. But she never anticipated how deeply his fate would intertwine with her own, nor how much she would come to care for him.

Still, she couldn’t allow herself to be consumed by these feelings—not when she was from the future. She had seen the records, she had lived with the knowledge of how it all played out. Y/n’s rebellion, the bloodshed, the eventual collapse—she had witnessed it from afar in her own time. She knew his future in a way that no one else could.

And the thing was, she wasn’t sure how much of it she could change.

It was late one evening, after a long day of tending to the wounded and helping prepare supplies for the next battle, that Y/n found her alone in the corner of the safe house. She had been trying to make sense of everything—the war, the lives at stake, and her own internal conflict.

He stood silently for a moment before speaking, his voice low but clear. "We’re running out of time, Hanni."

Her heart sank. She had known this conversation was coming. She had felt it in the air, in the way everyone seemed to move more urgently, more carefully, as if aware that danger was circling them.

"I know," she said, looking up at him. She forced a calmness into her voice, but inside, her heart was beating faster than ever. "What are you planning?"

Y/n sat down across from her, his expression hard, but with a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "We can’t wait any longer. The authorities are closing in. The others are preparing to flee the city, but I can’t just leave the cause behind." His words were filled with resolve, but Hanni could hear the strain in his voice. He was worn down, his mind heavy with the weight of leadership and the knowledge that his own death was becoming inevitable.

Her throat tightened. She already knew what he was planning—he was going to make himself a target, sacrifice himself for the cause. He had been so sure of it, even before she’d come into his life, even before they’d shared the quiet moments they now had. He had already made peace with the idea of dying for freedom, for the revolution.

And that was the problem.

Hanni had spent days, weeks, torn between what she knew of the future and what she wanted to do to save him. She couldn’t let him die. She couldn’t. Not when she knew the kind of impact he would have, the hope he would inspire, the lives that could be changed if he just survived a little longer.

But changing history wasn’t as simple as saving one person. The future—her future—was fragile. She had seen what happened when people interfered with time. The consequences were often unpredictable, violent. What if changing Y/n’s fate meant altering everything she knew, everything that had shaped the future she came from?

She struggled to keep the doubt out of her voice. "You’re not making this decision alone, Y/n. If you leave now, if you go alone, you’re not just risking your life—you’re risking everything we’ve fought for."

"I know," he said quietly. "But I don’t have a choice anymore. If we keep waiting, they’ll find us. We’ll all be dead."

Hanni’s heart twisted. She wanted to say something, to convince him to reconsider, but she couldn’t find the words. She couldn’t even tell him the truth—she couldn’t tell him that she knew how it would end. How he would end.

She had known for a long time now, ever since she’d arrived in this time and begun piecing together the fragments of history, that Y/n was going to die in a few months. The specifics were unclear—there were no exact dates in the records—but there were enough details to know his fate was sealed. His death would be a turning point for the revolution, a martyrdom that would galvanize the people and push them toward victory. But for all her knowledge, for all her understanding of the future, it felt cruel to just stand by and let him die.

He looked at her then, his gaze steady, as if he could read her conflicted thoughts. "I know you’re struggling with this, Hanni," he said softly. "I know you want to change things. You’ve always had that look in your eyes, like you’re waiting for the right moment to fix it all."

Hanni felt her breath catch in her throat. It was true—she had never fully accepted her place in the timeline. She had always wondered if there was something she could do, some way she could alter the future to save the people she had come to care for. But this was different. Y/n was different.

"I can’t just let you die," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I know it’s supposed to happen—I know it’s part of the history, part of the plan—but I can’t stand by and watch it happen. I’ve seen what you’ll do for this cause, Y/n. I’ve seen how much you’ll give. But you can’t die. You can’t—"

"Hanni," Y/n cut her off gently, his hand reaching across the table to grasp hers. His touch was warm, grounding her. "You’ve seen the future. You know that nothing stays the same. But what I do—what we do—still matters. Whether I’m here or not, we have to keep fighting. I’ve made my peace with this. But you have to make your peace, too."

Hanni’s eyes filled with tears, though she struggled to keep them back. She had never wanted to hurt him. She didn’t want to change everything. But how could she let him die, knowing there was still time to save him? Could she really live with that choice?

"I don’t want to lose you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But I don’t know if I can change things. I don’t know if it’s right to change anything at all."

Y/n squeezed her hand, his gaze softening. "Hanni, no matter what happens, we’ve done something. We’ve given everything for this cause. The people will carry it forward. You’ve already changed the future in ways you don’t even realize. Just by being here, just by standing with us, you’ve already made a difference."

Hanni closed her eyes, feeling the weight of his words. It wasn’t just about saving him, it was about the bigger picture—the revolution, the fight for freedom, the lives of countless others. But how could she stand by and let him die?

A painful silence stretched between them, heavy with the impossible decision she had to make. Would she try to change history? Could she? Or would she accept that some things were beyond her control, that sometimes the greatest acts of love were letting go?

She didn’t have an answer yet. Not right then.

But one thing was clear—she couldn’t keep running from the future forever.

————————————————————

The days that followed were tense, as the weight of Hanni's decision pressed heavily on her chest. Each conversation she had with Y/n seemed to deepen the growing conflict inside her. She wanted to believe in the cause, to stand by him, and yet, every time she looked into his eyes, the same thought haunted her: What if I could save him?

The safe house, once a refuge, had become a place of quiet desperation. The others were preparing to leave the city, to scatter and take their fight to the countryside, where they hoped to continue their struggle in the shadows. But Y/n refused to run—not when he was the beating heart of their movement, not when he had come so far.

Hanni spent her days helping with preparations, cooking, tending to the wounded, and even assisting with organizing supplies. But at night, when the others went to sleep, she would sit in the corner, staring at the wall, her mind racing. The future was so clear in her mind—his future—and yet she felt powerless to change it. Every instinct screamed at her to act, to save him. But the question still lingered: Should she?

It was late one evening when Y/n found her again, standing alone in the dim-lit courtyard of the safe house. The sky was dark, the stars hidden behind a blanket of clouds. A cold breeze swept through the alley, making her shiver as she pulled her cloak tighter around herself.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Y/n said, his voice low and careful, as if sensing the heavy burden she was carrying.

Hanni turned to face him, offering a weak smile. “I’m not avoiding you. I’ve just been... thinking.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Thinking about what?”

She hesitated, then sighed. “About everything. About what comes next. About the choices I’ve made—and the ones I still have to make.”

The tension between them grew, thick and palpable. Y/n moved closer, his presence both comforting and overwhelming. His gaze softened as he spoke, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. “You’re not the only one carrying a heavy load, you know.”

Hanni looked up at him, her heart aching at the raw honesty in his voice. “I know. I’ve seen the way you’re torn, Y/n. I know you’ve accepted what’s coming, but... it’s hard for me to do the same.”

He took a step closer, now just inches away from her, his hand reaching out to rest gently on her arm. “I know you care about me, Hanni. And I care about you, too. But you can’t carry this burden alone.”

A flicker of warmth spread through her chest at his words, but it was quickly overshadowed by the heavy weight of the decision she still had to make. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come. How could she explain everything to him without revealing the truth of where she came from? How could she admit that she knew his future, his sacrifice, and yet still felt torn between letting history unfold as it was meant to—or changing it?

Y/n seemed to sense her internal struggle. “I’ve made peace with it, Hanni. I’ve fought for this cause, and I will die for it if I must. But that doesn’t mean I want to leave this world without knowing that you understand... what this all means. What it means to truly fight for something.”

Hanni’s breath caught in her throat. She wanted to scream that she couldn’t let him die, that she couldn’t just stand by and watch it happen. But that would change everything—everything she had come to know. The future, the world she knew, depended on certain things remaining in place.

“I do understand,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But... I don’t want you to die.”

Y/n’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, his hand gently cupping her cheek. “I know you don’t. But sometimes, we don’t get to choose our fate. Sometimes, the fight for freedom demands sacrifices we’re not ready to make. And when it comes down to it, I can’t regret that choice.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his conviction. Hanni closed her eyes, feeling the heat of his touch on her skin, grounding her in the present moment. His hand lingered there, warm and steady.

“I’m not asking you to accept it,” he continued. “I’m just asking you to be here. With me. Until the end.”

Her heart pounded in her chest as she met his eyes, her own filled with unshed tears. She wanted to argue, to beg him to leave, to fight another day. But the reality was clear. He was already committed. The revolution needed him. And she couldn’t change his path, no matter how much she wanted to.

The moment hung between them, fragile and delicate. Then, as if to break the silence, Y/n spoke again. “I know you want to change things, Hanni. But some things are bigger than us. The revolution... it will live on, with or without me.”

Hanni felt a surge of emotion at his words. She wanted to deny them, to argue that there was still time, that she could still save him. But the truth was, she didn’t know how to change what was already set in motion.

They stood there for a long time, neither of them speaking, just existing in the silence, sharing the weight of the future between them. Eventually, Hanni spoke, her voice barely a whisper.

“What if I can’t let you go?”

Y/n’s hand slid down to hers, and he squeezed it gently. “You don’t have to. Just promise me that you’ll remember what we’re fighting for, Hanni. Not just the cause, but the people—the ones who will carry this fight forward. They’ll need you. The world will need you.”

The finality in his voice made her heart ache. But she nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I promise.”

Y/n gave her a soft smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, as if he knew the weight of the promise she had just made. “Then, let’s make the most of the time we have left.”

With that, he pulled her into an embrace, holding her tightly as if the moment could last forever. Hanni closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his body against hers, the steady beat of his heart that she had come to depend on. She didn’t know what the future held. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do, but for now, all that mattered was the present.

————————————————————

The night was quiet, but it carried an electric tension, like the calm before a storm. Hanni and Y/n spent the evening together, talking in the soft light of the safe house, sharing stories of their lives, of the world they came from. For a brief moment, the war seemed distant. For just a little while, they were not enemies, rebels, or future and past—they were simply two people, trying to hold on to something real.

Y/n took Hanni’s hand in his, squeezing it lightly. "Whatever happens tomorrow, I want you to know that you’ve made a difference in my life. And in the lives of the others. You’ve given us hope."

Hanni’s eyes shimmered with emotion, but she nodded, unable to speak the words she wanted to. Instead, she leaned her head against his shoulder, content in the moment. She wasn’t sure what the future would bring, but for tonight, she was with him—and that, for now, was enough.

————————————————————

The early morning light crept through the cracks in the safe house walls, casting long shadows across the floor. Hanni had hardly slept, her mind a tangled mess of regrets and what-ifs. She watched as the rebels moved quickly, preparing for their final stand. It was no surprise that the colonial forces were on their way—she had known it was coming, but knowing something in advance didn’t make it any easier.

Y/n moved among the rebels, his presence as steady and commanding as ever. He issued orders, encouraging those around him, all while maintaining a calm demeanor that belied the tension thick in the air. Hanni watched him closely from across the room. In his every movement, she saw the gravity of the choices they were all facing. And, for the briefest of moments, their eyes met.

A fleeting glance. But in it, Hanni saw everything that had brought them together, everything that would be lost, and everything she had yet to say. The things she should have said long before this moment.

Suddenly, the sound of distant explosions broke the morning silence, followed by a sharp, nerve-wracking crackle of gunfire. The colonial forces were moving in earlier than anticipated. Panic erupted in the safe house. The rebels scrambled, gathering their weapons and preparing to defend the position.

But Y/n was steady in the chaos. His voice was firm and unshaken as he directed everyone to their positions.

"Hanni," he called, motioning her over. His tone was different now, focused, but still carrying the same warmth that had drawn her to him since the beginning. When she approached him, he pressed something into her hand—a small, leather-bound journal, its edges worn from years of use.

"Keep this safe," he said, his voice low. "It contains everything—our plans, our hopes, our dreams for the future. Make sure it reaches the right people. They’ll need it when the time comes."

Hanni’s breath caught in her throat as she held the journal. It wasn’t just a record of their efforts; it was his legacy, a testament to everything he had fought for. Her fingers closed around it, but the weight of it felt like a burden, heavier than she ever imagined.

“Y/n,” she whispered, almost desperate. “Please, there has to be another way. This doesn’t have to happen.”

He met her gaze with an almost imperceptible smile, but it was tinged with sadness. The flicker of pain in his eyes only made her heart ache more.

"You know there isn't," he said softly, the finality in his voice cutting through her protests. "But you've given me something I never expected to find in all of this chaos. A reason to believe that the future will be better than the present."

The sounds of fighting grew closer, the outside world closing in on them. The air was thick with urgency.

"You need to go," Y/n said firmly, pushing her gently toward the back exit. “The others will make sure you get to safety.”

Hanni froze. Every part of her screamed to stay. To fight alongside him. To change the course of history. She had always thought she could do that, thought she could somehow fix it all. But now, in this moment, she knew the truth. This was how history had to unfold.

“I won’t forget,” she said, her voice trembling as tears filled her eyes. “I won’t let anyone forget what you fought for.”

Y/n stepped closer, pulling her into a tight embrace. His arms were warm, protective, but in that moment, it felt like he was offering her his last piece of peace. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a soft, lingering kiss.

But then, almost instinctively, Hanni tilted her head upward, and Y/n's lips met hers in a kiss that was both gentle and desperate. It was a kiss filled with the weight of everything they had been through, everything they would never have, and everything they could never say aloud.

For that brief moment, the chaos of the world around them faded. The sound of explosions, the gunfire, the inevitable future—all of it disappeared as they held on to one another. The kiss was their way of defying fate, of letting the world know that, despite everything, they had each other for just a few seconds longer.

When they finally pulled apart, the sadness in their eyes spoke volumes. There were no words left between them. Just the quiet understanding that this was it.

“Live, Hanni,” Y/n whispered, his breath warm against her cheek. “Live and make sure our fight wasn’t in vain.”

The door burst open then, rebels rushing in with news of the advancing enemy forces. Y/n’s expression hardened, and he turned to face his destiny, his posture resolute.

Hanni’s heart shattered as she was pulled away by another rebel, her eyes never leaving Y/n until the very last moment. She wanted to scream, to rush back to him, but she knew it was too late.

She fled through the dark alleys, clutching the journal to her chest, her mind a blur of grief and guilt. The sound of gunfire echoed in the distance, growing louder. She could already see the outcome, hear the cries of victory and defeat. She had read about this moment in history—she knew what would happen.

And, sure enough, it was only hours later that the news reached her. Y/n had made his last stand against the colonial authorities. He had fought with everything he had, holding the line long enough for others to escape. But he was gone now. A martyr. A hero. And yet, to Hanni, it felt like the world had just lost someone who still had so much more to give.

————————————————————

Hours passed. The safe house she had been led to was empty, save for a few other survivors. But Hanni couldn’t rest. Her fingers trembled as she opened Y/n’s journal, her heart racing as she began to read.

The pages were filled with his thoughts, his hopes, his dreams for the future. The pages chronicled not just the rebellion but the man he had been. He spoke of the reasons he fought—of his memories of his family, his longing for justice. He had written about her, too, about the unexpected presence she had brought into his life. Hanni’s heart stuttered as she read his words, feeling the weight of what he had shared with her.

“I never thought I would find someone like you in the midst of all this,” one line read. “But now, in these final moments, I know I’m not fighting just for the cause. I’m fighting for something more. For the people I care about. For the future we dream of.”

The realization hit Hanni with the force of a tidal wave. Despite everything, despite her best efforts, she had failed to save him. And yet—she was determined now. Y/n’s memory, his fight, would not be lost.

Hanni wiped her tears away and stood, holding the journal close. The mission wasn’t over. The cause wasn’t over. She would make sure of that.

————————————————————

Hanni’s resolve only grew stronger as she helped the remaining rebels organize. She used the knowledge from the future to guide them, helping them evade capture and stay one step ahead of the colonial forces. The sense of urgency never left her. Each day, the walls seemed to close in tighter. But the more she worked with the rebels, the more she saw the spark of something she hadn’t expected to find—hope. She saw the people who had once been fractured, now united, pushing forward toward freedom.

Despite the growing danger, Hanni remained close to Y/n’s former comrades, trying to ensure that his memory lived on in every small victory they achieved.

But eventually, it was clear that history would not be denied. Y/n’s death had set a course that Hanni couldn’t alter. No matter how many lives she saved, no matter how much she fought to change the outcome, there was no escaping the truth.

Y/n’s last stand had come. It had been brutal and tragic, but it had been the catalyst for the revolution to ignite across the country. Though Hanni’s heart shattered, she came to understand that some events, no matter how much we want to change them, were simply meant to unfold as they did. She had tried to rewrite history, but there were forces beyond her control—forces of sacrifice, of fate—that could not be avoided.

————————————————————

In the end, the country achieved its independence, though it came at an unimaginable cost. Hanni returned to her own time, forever altered by the journey she had taken. She had seen the complexities of history, felt the weight of decisions that shaped the future, and understood the sacrifices made by those who fought for freedom.

As she reflected on everything that had happened, Hanni realized that she had learned one of the most difficult lessons of all. The past, for all its tragedy, could never be fully rewritten. And yet, it had taught her something about the power of memory and legacy. Y/n’s fight had not been in vain. His ideals, his vision for a better world, would live on, even if he was gone.

The revolution had succeeded. And in the end, that was all he had ever wanted.

 The country, though scarred, had risen from the ashes of conflict to begin anew. It was a fragile peace, but a peace nonetheless. Hanni, now back in her own time, stood at the edge of a quiet city park, gazing at the horizon as the sun dipped below the skyline.

In her hands, she still held Y/n's journal, worn and weathered by the years, but treasured more than any other possession she had. The ink had faded in places, but the words—the hope, the passion, the love for a future he would never see—remained vibrant, echoing in her heart like the pulse of a song she couldn’t forget.

Her eyes wandered to a statue in the distance, a figure standing tall, gazing forward as if daring the world to challenge it. It was a monument dedicated to the revolutionary leader who had sparked a movement that changed everything. His name was etched into the base, and while she knew it was not her place to add her own, she thought of Y/n every time she passed it.

She remembered the kiss they had shared in those final moments, the quiet promise she made to him—to live, to fight for the future he had dreamed of. She hadn’t been able to change history, but she had witnessed the change he had ignited, and that, in its own way, had been enough.

As Hanni turned to leave, the faintest sound of a melody reached her ears. It was soft, carried by the breeze—an old song, one she had heard countless times in the rebellion’s safe houses. She smiled softly to herself, knowing the song was still alive, still being sung by those who had inherited the dream Y/n and so many others had fought for.

She walked towards the source of the music, finding a small group of people gathered near the park’s center. There, under the shade of an ancient oak tree, a young couple danced. Their movements were slow and tender, as if the world had slowed just for them. A feeling of nostalgia tugged at Hanni's heart.

One of the dancers caught her eye, and the smile that spread across his face brought a lump to her throat. He was holding a violin, playing the melody that had so often comforted them in their darkest days. And there, standing beside him, was a woman who resembled someone she had once known. The woman’s eyes, shining with tears and joy, were filled with the same hopeful spirit that had driven Y/n all those years ago.

The music swelled, and the couple danced with abandon, as if the past had finally given them room to breathe. Hanni closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sound of the violin and the warmth of the evening wrap around her like a blanket.

In that moment, everything felt right. Her journey had not been in vain. She had seen the ripples of history that were shaped by the sacrifices of those who had gone before. And while she could never undo the pain of Y/n’s loss, she knew that his fight had planted the seeds for something greater than himself.

The world had continued. His world had continued. And with that thought, Hanni finally felt a peace she hadn’t known she was capable of.

As the dance finished, the couple shared a soft, lingering kiss, and Hanni found herself smiling through her tears, knowing that Y/n’s legacy was alive in every new life, every small victory, and every dream that carried the flame of freedom forward.

She stood for a moment longer, watching the stars begin to twinkle overhead. She couldn’t change the past. She couldn’t bring Y/n back. But in this moment, she was sure of one thing:

The fight he had started was far from over.

And it would live on, in every heart that remembered the cost of freedom.