#wooden balance beam

[ewartwoods]

How to Incorporate Wooden Furniture into a Modern Interior Design

Wooden furniture is a timeless addition to any home decor. Adding natural beauty and warmth to a space makes it feel cozy and welcoming. 

Incorporating wooden furniture into a modern interior wood design can seem impossible at first, but it is possible. 

Wooden furniture can blend seamlessly with a modern aesthetic with the right selection of pieces and styling. A modern interior can be enhanced by incorporating wooden furniture.

Understanding Modern Interior Design

It's all about clean lines, minimalism, and a neutral color palette. It often features materials such as metal, glass, and concrete. 

However, wooden furniture can still fit into this aesthetic by choosing pieces with simple designs and clean lines. Wooden furniture can add warmth and texture to the space when used in a modern interior design.

Benefits of Using Wooden Furniture in Modern Interior Design

Using wooden furniture in a modern interior design has many benefits. First and foremost, it adds warmth and natural beauty to the space. 

Wooden furniture is also durable and long-lasting, making it a practical investment for your home. Additionally, wooden furniture is versatile and can be used in different interior styles, from mid-century modern to rustic.

Few Ideas of Wooden Furniture That Suit Modern Interior Design

There are many types of wooden furniture that suit modern interior design. For example.

Wooden floating shelf can be used to display minimalist decor and add storage to a room.  

Wooden step stool for kids can be a functional and stylish addition to a child's bedroom. 

Balance beams for kids can add a playful element to a playroom or family room.   

A kid's clothing rack made of wood can be a charming addition to a nursery or child's bedroom. 

Even a wood toilet paper holder can add a touch of warmth and style to a bathroom.

How to Incorporate Wooden Furniture into a Modern Interior Design

When incorporating wooden furniture into a modern interior design, choosing pieces with clean lines and simple designs is essential. Avoid furniture with intricate details or carvings. 

Mixing and matching different types of wood can also add interest and depth to a space. Combining wooden furniture with other materials and textures can also create a balanced and cohesive.

For example, a wooden coffee table can be paired with a metal lamp or a plush rug. Accessorizing with wooden home decors, such as picture frames or vases, can also tie the look together.

Tips for Maintaining Wooden Furniture in Modern Interior Design

Proper cleaning and maintenance techniques are important for keeping wooden furniture looking its best. Abrasive or harsh chemicals should not be used on wood. Soft cloths and feather dusters should be used to dust wooden furniture regularly. 

Protect wooden furniture from scratches and damage by using coasters and placemats. Finally, consider refreshing and updating wooden furniture pieces with a coat of paint or stain when needed.

Conclusion

Incorporating Wooden Home Decor furniture into a modern interior design is possible with the right selection of pieces and styling. Wooden furniture adds warmth and natural beauty to a space and is a practical and versatile investment for your home. 

Remember to choose pieces with clean lines and simple designs, mix and match different types of wood, and accessorize with wooden home decor. Proper cleaning and maintenance mean your wooden furniture can last for years.

[teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps]

[kidodidos]

Discover the top 5 benefits of wooden slides for kids at Kido Dido. Enhance playtime with safety, durability, and natural aesthetics for your little ones.

[tender-rosiey]

Why do I see Sakuna with a Ponyo! Daughter who is not only crazy energetic and mischievous but ALSO inherited her dad’s powers and is walking disaster wherever she goes

even worse — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

the house shakes.

not in the way that signals an earthquake or a distant battle—but in a way that makes your stomach sink, because you already know exactly who the cause is.

you barely have time to react before a blur of red streaks past the open doors, laughter trailing behind it like an ominous warning.

a servant lets out a startled yelp, followed by the unmistakable crash of ceramic shattering against the floor.

another blur follows—this time larger, heavier, and far, far more dangerous.

“stop running, you damned brat!” sukuna’s voice booms through the halls, sharp and exasperated, just as a loud thud echoes from somewhere deeper in the estate.

a sigh pushes past your lips as you rise from your seat, smoothing down the sleeves of your kimono before stepping into the chaos.

the scene is exactly as you pictured: your daughter, a tiny storm wrapped in flesh, stands atop the wooden railing of the porch, balancing on the thin beam with an ease that defies logic.

her hair, as wild as her spirit, flutters with the residual energy still crackling around her, the faint pink glow of cursed energy pulsing through her fingertips.

and below her—looking thoroughly unimpressed—stands sukuna, arms crossed over his chest, four crimson eyes locked onto her with something between irritation and begrudging amusement.

“d/n,” you call, voice steady despite the urge to rub at your temples. “get down from there.”

d/n grins, sharp and untamed. “but I just got up here!”

“exactly.”

her bottom lip juts out in a mock pout before she turns her attention back to sukuna. “catch me, dad!”

and then she jumps.

you inhale sharply, but sukuna moves faster than your heart can lurch.

his large hands catch her mid-air, but the moment he does, she twists like a wild animal, attempting to wriggle out of his grip.

“you little—” he tightens his hold before she can slip free, her giggles ringing loud as she kicks her legs, tiny hands sparking with cursed energy as she playfully tugs at one of his arms.

you don’t miss the twitch in his jaw when her strength actually makes his arm shift.

sukuna lets out a low, exasperated sigh before throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of rice.

“if you wanted to fight, brat, you could’ve just said so instead of destroying the whole damn house.”

d/n lets out a delighted shriek, pounding her tiny fists against his back. “I was training!” she insists, wiggling in his grasp. “you’re the one who got in the way!”

“in the way?” sukuna scoffs. “you nearly took out two servants and a wall.”

she grins against his shoulder. “only ‘nearly’?”

you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“she does get that from you, you know,” you mutter, stepping closer. “the reckless disregard for anything that stands in her way.”

sukuna turns his head to smirk at you, one brow lifting. “flattery will get you everywhere, wife.”

“that wasn’t a compliment.”

he huffs a barely noticeable laugh before finally setting d/n down, though his grip lingers long enough to give her hair a light tug—more affectionate than scolding.

she beams up at him, utterly shameless, and you swear you see the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

then, faster than either of you can react, she bolts.

“oh, for—” sukuna lunges, but the little menace is already halfway across the porch, kicking up dust as she makes her escape.

you don’t move—there’s no point. you already know how this ends.

and sure enough, just as d/n’s about to round the corner—

smack.

she runs straight into him—freaking teleportation.

she bounces back with a dramatic oof before sukuna’s larger hands swoop in once more, lifting her effortlessly by the back of her collar.

d/n blinks. “that’s cheating.”

“that’s strategy,” sukuna corrects, hoisting her up so they’re face to face. “something you’d understand if you actually stopped acting like a damn stray cat and thought before you moved.”

she pouts, kicking her legs uselessly in the air. “I did think.”

“oh?” sukuna raises a brow, unimpressed.

she grins, bright and mischievous. “I just thought it’d be funny.”

your husband stares at her for a few moments before—once again—throwing her over his shoulder.

later, after d/n has been successfully bribed with food and contained (for now), you find yourself beside sukuna beneath the warm glow of lantern light.

“she really is just like you,” you murmur, resting your head against his shoulder as you watch the moonlight spill across the porch.

sukuna hums, his arm draped lazily over your waist. “do not compare me to that circus monkey.”

there’s something fond in his voice—something that lingers even as his fingers trace idle patterns against your hip.

you tilt your head up at him, your voice quiet but amused. “that doesn’t scare you?”

sukuna scoffs, smirking.

“what, that our daughter is a force of nature with a complete disregard for rules and an unhealthy enthusiasm for destruction?”

you lift a brow. “yes.”

he smirks, leaning down until his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“terrifies me, wife.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or i will send my cats after you

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[dark-horse76]

[sabrinasopposite]

santa doesn’t know u like i do ⋆⁺₊❅。

clark kent x fem! reader

i’ve been there through the good and bad

know how to make you laugh

kiss all your tears away, babe

only I can do that

summary °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ : its christmas eve in smallville and y/n can’t wait till tomorrow to give her self-made gift to clark kent.

The snow fell gently, blanketing Smallville in a shimmering hush, as though the world had been tucked into a silver-white quilt. Even the stars seemed to lean closer, curious to watch the scene unfold below. Y/N tugged her scarf tighter, her breath unfurling in soft clouds as she stepped lightly through the snow. Each crunch of her boots on the frosted path felt impossibly loud in the stillness, but her heart raced faster with every step, urging her forward.

When she reached Clark’s barn, the wooden door creaked softly as she pushed it open. A faint golden glow spilled out, illuminating the snow beneath her feet. Inside, the air was warm, infused with the scent of hay, woodsmoke, and something uniquely Clark—a comforting mixture of earthiness and calm.

Her gaze lifted to the loft, where light danced across the beams. She climbed the ladder carefully, peeking over the edge. The sight that greeted her made her heart skip a beat.

Clark was sprawled on a makeshift couch by the loft window, wrapped in a knitted blanket. A steaming mug of cocoa rested in his hand, and an open book lay balanced on his lap. The soft light made his features look impossibly gentle, his messy hair haloed by the glow. He looked like a painting—perfect and timeless.

At the creak of the ladder, he glanced up, his blue eyes widening for a moment before softening into a smile that warmed her more than the stove below.

“Y/N?” he said, setting his book aside. “What are you doing out here?”

“I...” She hesitated, her cheeks blooming pink. “I wanted to see you.” Her voice was soft, almost shy. “Merry Christmas, Clark.”

“Merry Christmas,” he replied, his smile growing. “But it’s freezing outside. You could’ve waited until tomorrow.”

Y/N laughed, the sound filling the space like the chime of distant bells. She reached under her coat and pulled out a small package, its crimson wrapping crinkling in her hands. “I couldn’t wait. I wanted to give you this.”

Clark raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a teasing grin as he accepted the gift. “And here I thought Santa was the one sneaking into barns at night.”

“Santa doesn’t knit scarves,” she retorted, crossing her arms in mock indignation before breaking into a laugh.

He unwrapped the package carefully, his fingers brushing over the soft red scarf inside. His grin softened into something tender as he held it up, running his thumb along the stitches. “You made this?”

She nodded, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. “I thought it might keep you warm up here. It’s not perfect, but—”

“It’s perfect,” he interrupted, already wrapping it around his neck. “I love it.”

Her heart swelled, and she looked down, pretending to straighten her coat to hide her smile. “I’m glad.”

Clark set his cocoa aside and walked to a small table tucked into the corner of the loft. From underneath it, he pulled out a box wrapped in silver ribbon. “Your turn,” he said, his tone a little more nervous now. “I, uh, didn’t know how to wrap this very well, but...” He trailed off, holding the box out to her.

Y/N took it, her fingers trembling slightly as she untied the ribbon. Inside, nestled against soft velvet, was a delicate necklace. The pendant was a heart, small and simple, but it seemed to shimmer with its own quiet light.

“Clark...” she whispered, her voice catching. “It’s beautiful.”

“It reminded me of you,” he said quickly, his cheeks tinged with a faint pink. “Something simple but... special. And full of love.” He scratched the back of his neck, his eyes flicking nervously to hers. “I just... wanted you to have it.”

Her eyes glistened as she looked up at him. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he interrupted gently, echoing her earlier words.

He stepped behind her, brushing her hair aside as he fastened the necklace around her neck. His fingers lingered on her skin for a moment longer than necessary, and when he stepped back, his eyes traced the way the pendant rested just above her heart.

“Something beautiful,” he said softly, “just like you.”

Y/N reached up to touch the pendant, feeling its weight, its meaning. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but they didn’t fall. Instead, she looked at him with all the love she felt, unable to find words big enough to hold it. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I love it.”

Clark’s expression melted into something impossibly tender, his voice low as he replied, “I love you.” He reached for her hands, threading his fingers through hers.

For a moment, they stood there, the world outside the barn fading into nothingness. The snow whispered against the roof, the stars glittering beyond the window, but all Y/N could feel was the warmth of Clark’s presence, the steady beat of love between them.

Then, with a sudden grin, Clark reached to the side and held up a sprig of mistletoe. “I figured I’d keep this handy,” he said, his voice playful but his gaze filled with affection.

Y/N laughed, her breath misting between them. “You really planned this, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” he teased, leaning closer. “But I’d call it good planning.”

Their lips met, soft and unhurried, a kiss that felt like the first brush of sunlight after a long winter. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise, warm and steady, that even the coldest nights couldn’t touch.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N rested her forehead against his, her voice a whisper. “Merry Christmas, Love.”

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart,” he replied, his voice as steady and full of warmth as the glow in his eyes. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”

And as they settled back onto the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms, the barn seemed to hold its breath around them, cradling their love like a secret too precious to let go.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚 merry (early) christmas to everyone! its my gift to u and i hope u like a clark kent!

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ taglist: @blackynsupremacy @alelo23

[reidmarieprentiss]

I have a request that I know you’ll write 100% better than me! Spencer leaves his girlfriend at the altar without giving a single reason. And disappears for months. Then he comes back and it is revealed he did it because Reader's life was at risk. When he goes to apologize, Reader doesn't let him speak. Spencer crawls on his knees for forgiveness and tries to figure out how to improve the situation. The ending is up to you: angst, happy ending or not. You choose! I know you’ll do a great fic!

Sadly Ever After

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: hurt, angst

Warnings/Includes: no happy ending, being left at the altar, just general sadness after a breakup, small crime talk

Word count: 5.6k

a/n: hiii i hope this is sufficient lolol i am in a very angsty mood

main masterlist

You had never felt so beautiful in your entire life. The dress—the dress—was everything you had dreamed it would be. Layers of soft tulle cascaded down your frame, the delicate lacework etched across the bodice molding perfectly to you, almost as if it had been made for you alone. Each step you took sent the fabric swaying around you like whispers of movement, ethereal and romantic.

Penelope had outdone herself with your hair. Loose waves tumbled, glowing in the golden light of the early evening, held in place by a sparkling hairpiece that caught the glow of the string lights. Every curl seemed to be perfectly placed, not too styled but effortlessly enchanting, as if you had stepped out of a fairytale. JJ and Emily had tag-teamed your makeup, ensuring that every stroke and brush was precise and delicate. The soft blush on your cheeks, the shimmer of your eyeshadow, the perfect tint of color on your lips—it was understated perfection.

And Rossi, ever the consummate host, had given you and Spencer the most breathtaking backdrop for your wedding. His sprawling backyard had transformed into something magical. An altar of wooden beams, wrapped with soft draped fabric and overflowing with flowers—roses, peonies, and wild blooms—stood like a gateway to forever. Twinkling fairy lights criss crossed above, their soft glow turning the clearing into a dreamscape. The grass, still cool from the afternoon, added an earthy softness to the air, grounding the magic in something real.

Then there he was—Spencer.

Your heart stuttered at the sight of him standing at the altar, hands nervously clasped in front of him, the slightest smile pulling at the corners of his lips when his eyes found you. His suit was sharp and clean, a dark shade that contrasted beautifully with the delicate tones of your dress. The bowtie, a small nod to his usual style, somehow made him look even more endearing, his charm on full display. His curls fell just perfectly, framing his face and softening the seriousness of his features.

But it was his eyes that caught you—the depth of them, brimming with unspoken emotion, raw and honest. The sight of him struck you in the chest, stealing the air from your lungs. The tears you had tried to fight back began to prick the corners of your eyes.

Each step down the aisle felt slower, deliberate, as though time itself had stretched just for the two of you. You took in every detail—the warm breeze rustling the leaves above, the distant chirp of crickets, the way the light filtered through the trees, creating golden halos around your guests. As you approached Spencer, standing tall beneath the altar where Aaron Hotchner waited to officiate, your heart swelled with so much love you thought it might burst.

Aaron’s voice, steady and clear, had been a comforting hum in the background—his dry wit laced through the ceremony brought a lightheartedness that had the guests chuckling softly at all the right moments. He was a master at balancing sincerity and charm, even as the formal words of the ceremony unfurled.

The vows had been the pinnacle of it all. Spencer’s, with their perfect blend of sentimentality and poetic elegance, had left you breathless. Every word was carved with precision, so achingly him that it made your heart feel both full and fragile in the best way. Your vows, equally personal and unflinchingly honest, had drawn a few tears from the crowd. For those few minutes, it felt like it was just the two of you—completely alone in your little world, pledging yourselves to each other.

But then Aaron’s voice broke that perfect little bubble.

“Spencer, do you take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

It was a question Spencer had to be expecting. One he should have answered without hesitation. The words hung in the air like a held breath. Waiting.

You smiled softly, fingers intertwined with his, but that silence—the silence that followed—was deafening. The longer Spencer stood there, unmoving and unspeaking, the weight of the moment became unbearable. You felt the shift in the energy around you, a sudden drop in the warmth that had enveloped the ceremony just moments ago.

The guests began shifting uncomfortably in their seats. A murmur rustled through the crowd—quiet and confused. It was subtle at first, the furrow of brows and exchanged glances, but the longer Spencer remained silent, the more palpable the tension became.

“Spencer?” you whispered faintly, trying to ground him with the sound of your voice. Your hands squeezed his gently, searching for reassurance in the way his thumb brushed against your skin. But that was the thing—his thumb wasn’t moving at all. His hands were still, stiff even, as he stared at you.

And his eyes—oh, those fucking eyes.

They weren’t full of the love you had seen all evening, that awe-struck admiration that had made your knees weak when you first stepped down the aisle. No, they were hollow now, distant, as though he was somewhere far away.

The silence stretched so long you felt it wrap around your chest like a vice, squeezing the air from your lungs.

“Spencer,” Aaron prompted gently, his calm, officiating voice now laced with quiet concern.

Finally, finally, Spencer moved. The slightest tilt of his lips into a soft, almost apologetic smile. The kind of smile that said everything and nothing at the same time.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. The words were so soft they barely reached your ears, like a secret meant just for you.

Your brows knitted together as confusion bloomed across your face. Sorry? Sorry for what?

But before you could say anything, before you could even process the sound of those three words, Spencer’s grip on your hands loosened. He let go—he let go—and turned.

One moment he was standing in front of you, your almost-husband, and the next he was running. The sound of his shoes hitting the wooden platform of the altar was jarring. Sharp.

“Spencer!” you called after him, panic rising in your voice, but it was too late.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. The murmurs grew louder now, confusion turning to shock as everyone watched Spencer disappear through the open back doors of Rossi’s house.

You stood frozen, rooted to the spot where he had left you, your hands still hovering in front of you as though you could still feel the shape of his in your palms.

The string lights above twinkled innocently, the flowers framing the altar swayed in the evening breeze, and the guests remained seated, staring, waiting—hoping this was some sort of terrible joke.

But it wasn’t.

Aaron, steady as ever, took a cautious step forward, lowering his voice as he gently spoke. “Y/N… do you want to sit down?”

Sit down. Right. You felt like the earth beneath you had cracked wide open, leaving you teetering on the edge. How could he run? How could Spencer Reid—your Spencer—leave you like that?

Your lips trembled as you looked back toward the house, the place where he had vanished. You felt the eyes of everyone on you, their collective disbelief pressing down on your shoulders like an invisible weight.

You swallowed thickly, the tears you had been holding back earlier now threatening to spill for an entirely different reason.

“I don’t…” you started, but your voice faltered.

Because you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what had just happened or why.

All you knew was that Spencer Reid—the love of your life, your almost-husband—had left you standing alone under the twinkling lights of Rossi’s backyard, with nothing but a hollow whisper of I’m sorry lingering in his wake.

—

Months had passed, yet time felt like it moved at a crawl. The day Spencer ran from you—from your wedding—remained an echo that refused to quiet. You thought that eventually the sting would dull, that the confusion would lift, but it clung to you like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

You had packed up your life together in silence, alone in the home you once shared with him. The apartment was eerily still without the sound of his voice murmuring about a book or his soft humming while he made tea. It had felt haunted, as though every room whispered why? at you, taunting you with memories of what you thought your life would be. You didn't even see him again during those long days you spent packing—only once did Penelope call to let you know he had gone home to see his mother.

“Just so you know,” Penelope had said softly over the phone. She sounded hesitant, like she wasn’t sure if she was making things better or worse. “Spencer’s not in D.C. anymore. He went back to Vegas. I think he wanted to… I don’t know, give you space.”

You’d thanked her out of politeness, even though the words stung. Give you space. Was that what this was? Him running, abandoning you at the altar—was that his way of giving you space? You didn’t ask for space. You had asked for him. Well, actually, he had asked for you.

So you moved back into the apartment you had sublet without any real trouble. It was strange to see your things there again, familiar but foreign, as though they belonged to a different version of you. You kept most of your life in boxes for a while. Unpacking felt like admitting that this—this emptiness—was permanent, and you weren’t ready to do that yet.

The team tried to reach out in those first weeks.

JJ had sent you messages that were simple but heartfelt: “Thinking of you. I’m here if you need anything.”

Emily had tried to call you once. She left a voicemail, her voice kind and gentle: “Hey, it’s me. I know you might not want to talk right now, and that’s okay, but I just wanted you to know we’re all thinking of you. You’re not alone.”

Penelope was the most persistent. She sent texts, little gifts, even a handwritten letter because she knew how personal that would feel. But every text, every call, every kind gesture just reminded you of him. Spencer had been the thread that connected you to the team, and now every single one of them felt like a painful reminder of what you’d lost. Of the way he left.

So you shut them out, one by one.

You didn’t hate them. You couldn’t. JJ, Emily, Penelope, Derek, Hotch and Rossi—they were good people, your people once. But being around them, talking to them, made Spencer’s absence feel louder. It was as though his ghost lingered between every conversation. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t separate them from him.

Penelope’s messages stopped first. You imagined her sitting in her colorful office, fidgeting with a pen as she debated whether to text you again. She was the kindest soul you knew, and you hated the idea that you were shutting her out, but you couldn’t face her—or any of them.

Then came the loneliness. It wasn’t the kind that was born from an empty room or quiet nights alone. It was deeper, sharper. The kind of loneliness you only felt when you lost someone dear to you.

You sat on your couch one night—your couch now, not Spencer’s, not yours and his, just yours—and stared at the stack of boxes you still hadn’t unpacked. The light from the kitchen spilled into the living room, casting long shadows across the floor. It was silent except for the hum of the fridge and the faint tick of the clock on the wall.

You wondered if Spencer was in his childhood home now, back in Vegas, sitting with his mother. Did he talk about you? Did he think about you?

Or was he like you—alone in a room that used to feel like home, wondering how everything had unraveled so quickly?

It didn’t matter, you told yourself. You weren’t going to chase answers you might never get. If he wanted to explain himself, he would have. But he didn’t. Instead, he ran. He left you there, at the altar, in front of everyone you loved, and didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye.

You pulled your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on them as you stared at the faint glow of your phone screen on the coffee table. Another message from JJ, one you wouldn’t open. You knew she would stop eventually. They all would.

You had been close with all of them, almost like family. But Spencer’s absence had burned through those bonds like fire through dry wood. And now, months later, all that was left was ash.

And the strangest part of it all? You missed them. You missed JJ’s motherly warmth, Emily’s strength, Penelope’s relentless kindness. You missed Derek teasing you, Rossi’s wise words, Hotch’s steady, grounding presence.

But missing them also meant missing him.

And missing him? That was something you couldn’t bear to feel any more than you already did.

—

The bullpen was quieter than usual that morning. The team was settled at their desks, heads ducked over files and reports, but there was no mistaking the shift in energy. Spencer was back. After months of leave, months of silence, months of wondering—he had walked through the glass doors of the BAU like nothing had happened.

Except something had happened. Something none of them could make sense of.

Spencer didn’t look any different on the outside. His suit was pressed and neat, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder in that familiar way. But there was a tightness in his jaw, a heaviness in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before. He had always carried the world on his back, but this time, it looked like the weight might crush him.

The air hung thick as he settled into his desk, quietly unpacking his bag. No one spoke at first, though they all exchanged glances, unsure of how to broach it—of how to demand answers.

It was Derek who cracked first. Of course it was Derek. He had been simmering with frustration for months now, trying to make sense of Spencer’s sudden disappearance and his refusal to talk about it.

“You want to tell us all what the fuck is going on?” Derek’s voice broke through the stillness, sharp and pointed.

Spencer froze, one hand halfway to his desk drawer. He didn’t turn right away, but everyone else did. All eyes turned to Derek, who sat leaned back in his chair, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His tone was accusatory, sure, but his expression—underneath the tension—was concern.

Spencer swallowed, closing the drawer with a soft click before finally turning to face the team. JJ looked at him with something between worry and hope, her brow slightly furrowed. Emily’s gaze was harder to read, but her eyes were pinned to him, waiting. Penelope, standing in the doorway with a coffee in hand, looked like she wanted to speak but thought better of it. Even Rossi, ever the patient one, had his head tilted slightly as he studied Spencer.

Spencer took a breath, his hands curling around the edge of his desk.

“I…” His voice cracked slightly, unused to addressing so much weight at once. He steadied himself and tried again. “I owe you all an explanation.”

“Damn right you do,” Derek shot back, though his tone was a little softer this time.

Spencer nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line as he gathered his thoughts. He looked down for a moment, fingers drumming idly against the wood of his desk before he spoke again.

“I left because I needed to,” he said simply. His voice was low, not quite weak, but careful—like every word was fragile, like he was afraid they might break apart. “I needed to… figure things out.”

The room fell into a heavy silence as the team sat gathered around the conference table, all of them watching Spencer intently. The blinds were drawn, the overhead lights humming faintly above them, but it did little to dispel the weight pressing down on everyone.

“Figure what out?” JJ had asked softly, her tone teetering somewhere between exasperation and hope.

Spencer had sighed then, a breath so deep it looked like it pained him. “Yeah, um… can we go to the conference room?”

No one argued. 

Once they were all seated in the conference room, Spencer remained standing, gripping the back of one of the chairs like it was the only thing holding him upright. His knuckles turned white as he stared down at the polished table, gathering the words he had spent months trying to keep buried.

“Someone was threatening me,” Spencer said finally, his voice low, steady, but carrying the weight of something dark and unspoken. “Threatening her.”

The pronoun lingered like a slap, and no one needed clarification to know who he meant. You.

JJ sucked in a sharp breath, her hand instinctively reaching for her chest as though she could feel the impact of those words. Derek leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his expression hardening as he processed what Spencer was saying.

“What do you mean, someone was threatening you?” Rossi asked, his voice calm but firm, coaxing Spencer to keep going.

“They found Y/N because of me,” Spencer continued, his voice quieter now, almost ashamed. “Because of my job. I… I put her in danger. They used her as leverage, made it clear that if I told anyone—if I told any of you—that they would kill her.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Emily glanced toward Derek, her expression darkening as she began piecing things together.

“How long did this go on?” Derek finally asked, his tone a low growl.

Spencer didn’t meet his eyes. “Months. I started getting letters, then texts. Pictures of her—ones that no one else could’ve had. They knew where she was at all times. When she went to work, when she was home, when she was with me.”

Penelope gasped softly, her hand covering her mouth as tears threatened to well in her eyes. “Spencer…” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Spencer shook his head, jaw tightening. “I couldn’t let anything happen to her. I couldn’t. So when the threats escalated—when they said they’d kill her if I stayed here and didn’t cooperate—I left.”

“And you didn’t tell us?” JJ asked, the hurt in her voice unmistakable.

“I couldn’t,” Spencer said, his voice nearly cracking. “If I told any of you, they said they’d go through with it. So I had to work the case alone. I did things I… I don’t want to talk about, but I found them. I stopped them. I made sure they could never hurt her again.”

The room fell silent again as the weight of his confession sank in. No one spoke, no one moved. Spencer’s breathing had grown uneven, like the memory alone was clawing its way back to him.

It was Rossi who finally broke the silence, his voice calm and measured but tinged with quiet curiosity. “Why did you wait until the wedding to run?”

Spencer’s shoulders slumped. He looked down at the table, his gaze unfocused, like he couldn’t bear to look at any of them. “I… I thought I could marry her. I thought if I could just get through that day, I could disappear. Take her somewhere safe. Run away with her before they could do anything. I wanted to give her something good, something beautiful, before I ruined everything.”

His voice faltered, and he shook his head, his grip tightening on the chair. “But when I saw her standing there… looking so happy, so perfect… it was like I was transported into my worst nightmare. I saw her—bloody and dead—because of me. Because of what I do, because of who I am. I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand the thought of her being hurt because of me. So I ran. I thought… I thought it was better to break her heart than to get her killed.”

The room was deathly quiet now. No one knew what to say. Derek rubbed a hand over his face, trying to process it all, while JJ blinked away tears that had started to gather in her eyes. Penelope was openly crying now, her quiet sobs muffled behind her hands.

“You should’ve told us,” Emily finally said, her voice soft but firm. “We could’ve helped you, Spencer.”

Spencer looked up then, his face hollow, haunted. “And what if you couldn’t? What if I told you, and it still wasn’t enough? What if she died because of me?” His voice broke on the last word, and he quickly looked away, his shoulders trembling slightly.

No one had an answer for that.

Rossi sighed, leaning back in his chair, the understanding settling on his features. “So you’re back now because it’s over?”

Spencer nodded. “It’s over. I made sure of it.”

“And Y/N?” Derek asked quietly, though the question lingered like a punch to the gut.

Spencer’s face fell, his voice a whisper. “She doesn’t know. She just thinks I… left her.”

JJ’s brows furrowed in disbelief, her voice sharp now. “And you haven’t told her? Spencer, she deserves to know—”

“I know!” Spencer’s voice rose suddenly, a flash of frustration breaking through the cracks. He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to calm down. “I know,” he repeated, softer this time, the anguish bleeding through. “But how do I explain it to her? How do I look her in the eye and tell her I let her believe I abandoned her because I thought I was saving her life?”

The room fell silent once more, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioning.

No one had an answer for that either.

—

Spencer stood outside your apartment building, his heart hammering so hard he could hear it in his ears, like a drum echoing through a cavernous void. His hands trembled at his sides as he stared up at the familiar brick, the windows glowing faintly with light from the rooms inside. You were home. He knew it, and yet his feet felt like they were glued to the pavement.

His breathing came fast, shallow, uneven—panic building like a wave rising up from his chest and crashing against his throat. He bent over slightly, hands braced on his knees, trying to steady himself, but it wasn’t enough. The air felt thin, insufficient, as if he was sucking in nothing but emptiness.

Not here, not now, he thought desperately, squeezing his eyes shut. You have to do this.

He pushed off his knees and leaned back against the cool brick wall, his spine pressing into it like it could somehow ground him. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he tried to focus on something—anything—other than the guilt gnawing at him.

Breathe in for four. Hold for four. Out for four.

He silently counted, forcing air through his lungs, slowing the frantic rhythm of his breaths. He repeated the process over and over until the tightness in his chest began to ease, just enough for him to move again.

His legs still felt weak as he pushed away from the wall and crossed the threshold into the building, each step heavier than the last. The stairwell yawned before him like an unforgiving climb, the kind that felt insurmountable despite its simplicity. He clutched the cold metal railing as he ascended, pausing halfway up the flight to press his forehead against the wall and whisper to himself under his breath.

“You can do this. Just knock. Just say it.”

The words sounded pathetic to his ears, hollow in the stillness of the stairwell, but they were all he had. After all these months, after everything he’d done—or failed to do—it came down to this. He had to face you. He had to tell you the truth, no matter what it cost him.

When he reached your floor, Spencer stopped outside your door, staring at the familiar brass numbers that suddenly looked foreign. His heart began to race again, beating faster and faster, drowning out every rational thought. He hadn’t been here since… since before everything. Since you had been his, since he had woken up to the sound of your laughter, since he had memorized the smell of your shampoo and the feel of your hand in his.

The memories hit him all at once, clawing their way out of the recesses of his mind like ghosts—mocking him with what he had lost. What he had taken from himself.

Spencer’s hand shook as he raised it, hovering inches away from the door. He felt paralyzed again, the nausea rising in his stomach like a sick promise. He could turn back. He could leave now, before you opened the door, before you saw him standing there. Maybe you hadn’t moved on yet, maybe you still hated him, maybe you didn’t even want the answers he had brought.

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose.

No. She deserves this. She deserves the truth.

His knuckles brushed against the door—softly at first, a timid, ghostly sound. Then he knocked, the noise louder than he intended, the echo of it reverberating down the hall.

Spencer froze, his breath catching in his throat as the moments stretched endlessly. The only sound he could hear was the faint buzz of the overhead lights and the blood rushing in his ears.

And then, from the other side of the door, he heard it.

Footsteps.

The shuffle of movement, the creak of a floorboard.

Spencer felt his pulse spike again, his palms growing clammy as the footsteps approached. His body tensed, and for one horrible second, he thought he might turn and run.

But then the door opened.

And there you were.

You froze in the doorway, one hand still on the knob as your eyes met his. Spencer’s heart lodged itself in his throat as he took in the sight of you—your expression shifting from surprise to something unreadable, your lips parting slightly as though words had caught there, unable to escape.

You looked the same and yet different, somehow. Your hair was a little longer, your face softer, but your eyes—those eyes that had once looked at him with so much love—now held something else entirely.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched on, so loud it was deafening.

Spencer’s throat felt dry as he finally managed to whisper, “Hi.”

It was so small, so simple, but it was all he could get out before his voice cracked.

You blinked, the mask of composure you had thrown on beginning to fracture. Your voice came out quiet, wary, almost disbelieving. “Spencer?”

He swallowed hard, trying to find the words he had been practicing for weeks, for months. They were all jumbled now, falling apart in his mind.

“I… I needed to see you,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “I need to explain.”

Your hand tightened on the doorknob, your knuckles going white as you looked at him—really looked at him—and the pain he’d left behind resurfaced in your eyes like a wave crashing over jagged rocks.

The second the words left his mouth—“I need to explain”—something inside you snapped. The anger, the hurt, the betrayal that had been simmering beneath the surface for months came roaring to life like a fire you could no longer control. Before you even realized what you were doing, your grip on the doorknob tightened, and with a force you hadn’t known you were capable of, you slammed the door.

The sound was deafening, the crack of wood against its frame echoing through the hallway. It felt final, like a gavel coming down to deliver a sentence. And for a moment, all you could hear was the rapid pounding of your own heartbeat in your ears.

On the other side of the door, you heard nothing.

No knock. No footsteps. Not a single sound.

For a long moment, you stood there, your chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. Your hand was still on the doorknob, fingers trembling as though the residual shock of what you’d done was finally catching up to you.

Spencer Reid.

The man who had left you, abandoned you in the cruelest way possible, standing you up at the altar without so much as a word. The man who had disappeared from your life, leaving you to pick up the pieces of a heart he had shattered. And now, now, after all these months, he had the audacity to show up at your door and say he needed to explain?

Explain what?

How he left you humiliated and broken? How he had walked away from the life you were supposed to build together, without giving you the decency of closure?

Your jaw clenched, your hands balling into fists at your sides as you turned away from the door. A bitter laugh escaped your lips—short, hollow, and humorless. You felt like screaming, like throwing something, like letting out all the pain you’d been holding in since that day.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you walked away, forcing yourself deeper into the apartment. You wanted to put as much distance between yourself and that door as possible. Your mind was racing, every thought colliding into the next, until all that was left was a whirlwind of anger and grief that threatened to consume you whole.

And yet…

You stopped in the center of your living room, your eyes drifting to the door as the silence stretched on. You wondered if he was still out there, standing on the other side, stunned into silence.

You hated that part of you cared enough to wonder.

What did he think was going to happen? That he would knock, say a few words, and everything would be okay? That you would just forgive him? He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve you.

But the thought of him still standing there, heartbroken, made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

Slowly, you sank onto the couch, dropping your head into your hands as the weight of it all settled over you like a storm cloud. You took a shaky breath, then another, trying to ignore the tears that were threatening to spill.

On the other side of the door, Spencer remained frozen.

The door was still vibrating faintly from the force with which you’d slammed it, and he stood there, staring at it like it might suddenly open again if he just waited long enough. His breathing was shallow, his face pale as his mind tried to process what had just happened.

He had expected anger. He had expected hurt. But the door slamming—so final, so absolute—hit him harder than he thought possible.

His hand hovered in the air, just inches from the wood, as though he might knock again. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Instead, he exhaled shakily, leaning forward until his forehead rested lightly against the door. His eyes squeezed shut as a wave of nausea washed over him.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, though he knew you couldn’t hear him.

After a few long moments, he forced himself to straighten. He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets, turned slowly, and walked away—each step heavier than the last.

And inside, you sat alone, the sound of that door slam replaying in your head over and over again, louder than any explanation he could have given.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[pretentious-blonde]

independent

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: remus loves you wholeheartedly, even when you threaten to give him a heart attack

warnings: none, fluff, clumsy reader, stressed remus

a/n: short and sweet ❤️

Remus turned the key in the lock of the flat, happy to feel some relief from the autumn chill as he stepped inside the shared space. The soft thud of his shoes echoed through the hallway as he shrugged off his coat. It had been a long day and he felt a tired stiffness in his shoulders, all he wanted to do was relax and enjoy another evening with you, catch up on anything exciting he may have missed while absent. 

“Darling, I’m home!” He called out, his voice echoing up the stairs. He was curious as to why there was no response, usually, you bounded down the stairs as soon as you heard the door open. He climbed upwards, his footsteps light on the old wooden floorboards. “Love, are you hiding again? Because I have to tell you, it’s a losing battle. I always find you in the end.”

He glanced around the living room, still waiting for an answer, his smile widening as he turned the corner to the bedroom. His eyes scanned over the room, searching for where you could have been concealed. “Dove, what are we—“

He stopped himself as he saw what was happening, heart lurching. You were precariously balanced on a wobbly ladder, one that should have been tossed months ago. He was usually tall enough to reach pretty much anything you needed in the apartment, plus he liked you asking him to. It made him feel needed. 

Your arm was stretched up towards the ceiling, clearly changing a lightbulb, your expression determined and filled with concentration.

“What are you doing?” He asked even if it was obvious, his voice was low, despite the slight panic he felt rising in his chest. 

“I am changing a lightbulb,” you told him matter-of-factly, completely calm as if you weren’t on the verge of toppling over at any second. You spoke to him like it was obvious. “It broke.”

He took a deep breath in, his lips formed a thin line as he quickly strode over to you, eyes constantly watching the unstable ladder you stood on, holding it in place. “Sweetheart,” he began, voice soft and relieved now he was offering some kind of stability. “Why didn’t you wait for me to get home? I’m tall enough to reach it without risking life and limb.”

You shrugged as you turned the bulb, looking down at him with a nonchalant smile. “Because I got it.”

No, you don’t, he thought inwardly, but he thought it would be better if he bit his tongue. Instead, he settled for resting his hands on your hips, ready to catch you in case the ladder decided to give way. 

“Whatever you say, dove,” he murmured as he watched your movements, his tone affectionate. He loved you wholeheartedly. Your independent nature was something that had drawn him to you in the first place and he wouldn’t change it for the world, even if it did give him the occasional heart attack. 

You twisted the new bulb in place, beaming down at him as the glow filled the room, clearly very pleased with yourself. “There!” You said, a triumphant grin on your lips. “All done.”

Remus let out a breath that he didn’t realise he was holding. “Brilliant,” he said, thrilled to get you off of the shaking death trap. “Now, if you don’t mind, let’s get you down before my heart gives out.”

His hands tightened around your waist as he lifted you down, hands steady as he made sure you were firmly placed on the ground. You turn around to face him, your face smug. 

“See?” You tell him, gesturing to the now-lit room. “Told you I could do it.”

He shook his head, brown hair falling over his forehead, his mouth turning into a soft smile. “Yes, darling, you did.” He placed a hand on the side of your head, pulling you forward slightly to press a soft kiss to your temple before pulling away. “But if you avoid giving me a panic attack next time, I’d be very grateful.”

“I try my best,” you say with a giggle, making him melt as the melodic sound fills the room. 

“Good,” he murmured, allowing his thumb to brush over your cheek absentmindedly. “Now, be extra good and make me a cup of tea whilst I pack up in here, hmm?”

“On it,” you say, flashing him an over-the-top grin as you spin on your heel, headed straight for the kitchen. 

He watched you practically skip out of the room, high on the idea of completing this mundane task yourself. He chuckled as he turned back to the ladder, folding it swiftly, the metal creaking under his hands. Picking it up in his arms and about to head towards the storage cupboard when he heard it—a sharp thunk followed by a yelp of pain. 

It’s a wonder your toes are still on your feet at this point. 

“Bloody hell,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, putting the ladder down and sticking his head out of the bedroom doorway. “Everything alright, dove?” 

“Yep!” Your chipper voice came from somewhere deeper in the flat, a little bit breathless but nonetheless cheerful. “All good!”

“Of course you are,” he said to himself, letting out a sigh but certainly amused. He turned back to the ladder behind him, hauling it over his shoulder and descending down the hall, a fond smile forming on his face. God, he loves you.

As he puts the ladder away, making a mental note to get rid of it the next time the bin men come, he can’t help the chuckle that escapes his lips. You were a walking disaster sometimes, but hey, you were his walking disaster. He liked to be kept on his toes. 

Making his way to the kitchen, following the sound of your soft humming, he just stood for a while. Arms crossed over his chest as he admired you, feeling his heart swell, he felt content. 

He only hoped you wouldn’t burn yourself when pouring the water…

[jayden-killer]

Greediest man in the Stone World.

summary: you've just being awaken by your old friend and classmate, Senku, in a whole new human era. But, who's this young guy claiming you as his? a/n: waahh, i sincerly apologise if i disappeared...again. i literally forgot my tumblr writing page, and life took a.. strange turn of events(?) kinda. i hope this first ryusui one shot will make me forgive!!!

☆

Dark. And then... a golden beam of light passed through my eyes, blinding me. My muscles began to melt. I felt them sore, as if I had slept in an uncomfortable position all night. Or maybe, for three thousand and fifty years. This was what was brought back to me when I woke up from that sleep I thought was eternal. The first thing my eyes noticed when they hatched was a blinding sun. There was so much green. So much vegetation was not seen even in the well-preserved jungles. Then, a group of boys with familiar and unfamiliar faces. My eyes met his.

"Senku..?"

I uttered that name in a subtle tone of voice, and the boy did nothing but address to me that mischievous grin of his own.

"Yoh, Y/N...we need your help".

[ Time skip...(*ゝω・)ﾉ ]

"So... you need my dexterity in putting these little pieces together so you can build, um... Repeat it, thank you".

"An oxygen tank" Senku rest, without even thinking of getting that smirk off his face.

His attitude hadn’t disappeared after 3,700 years. Not even when he claimed in front of a professor that their speeches were meaningless.

Here we go again...

Between a sigh and the other I immediately set to work, while in the distance I heard Senku arguing with what seemed to be his colleague.

Just in the middle of my work I felt someone touching my shoulder gently. A delicate touch, like that of a…

"Child?"

The girl in question wore a watermelon helmet on her head, with lenses inserted in the two holes that created a space for the eyes. She made a sound of wonder, her hands to her mouth.

"So, you are new here!"

With a confused look I lowered myself to her level, able to have a face-to-face conversation with the little creature. " I suppose so..? And you are...?" That little girl who didn’t immediately show her intentions and courage was pretty to say the least.

"Suika wanted to welcome you to the Science Team!" she said clearly, now showing me her hand to shake her. I took her, and with a kind smile, I accepted her request. "How kind of you! Since I am now a new addition to your team, can I have the honor to meet my future colleagues and companions?"

Little Suika nodded happily, running in the opposite direction where I was working. Heck. Maybe it was me who was no longer a child like her, but Suika seemed really fast in the race, not giving me a chance to keep up. I didn’t know where she was taking me; we passed through several huts, erected on wooden structures, running as if someone was after us.

The only one chasing her was me. Looking back to see if we’d actually drifted apart, my foot tripped on a double-sized rock. The collision with the stone made me lose my balance; I was ready to crash on the dirty ground and have some bruises all over my face for a few days. Only that never happened. In the instant that I was about to feel my face against the damp soil, two arms wrapped my waists not too strong, but with determination, preventing me from slipping a second time. I didn’t even realize I closed my eyes.

"It’s not even the first day you’re back here on Earth, and you were destined to get hurt. Pff, not very convenient for our team, huh?"

A moment later my eyes sprang to meet his, and those eyes reminded me of an autumn now close to winter. " Well, lady killer, now you might as well put me down. I’m not meant to be your princess." I said authoritatively. His powerful arms let go of my body, and with a little thump my butt bounced off the ground.

What an idiot!

Not only was he now laughing at me with a fat laugh, as if I had just said the funniest joke on Earth, but he didn’t even deign to preseed himself! The blond slightly lowered his head, as I was still on the ground, and with an energetic voice he replied:

"Not yet", later going in the opposite direction, with firm step. Oh, what kind of weird I had in front…

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"Become mine! With all my Drago you would become the luckiest woman in the world!"

Somebody kill me...

It had been two months since I had made my unexpected (better to say, unlucky) acquaintance with blondie, who had the name of Ryusui Nanami. With his egocentrism and sheer avarice, he had proved to be one of the most promising members of the Kingdom of Science so far, with great skills for navigation. Apparently he came from one of the wealthiest families in Japan, and he certainly had not lost the habit of being indulged in everything, even after 3,500 years. And since our first meeting, he hasn’t stopped trying once. On every occasion he would give me his flirtations comments (sometimes shabby), he would become handsy, or he would try to buy me with his stupid Drago.

I was not one of those women who was so easily deceived, especially if a situation was about money. He thought I would give in so easily. I was so determined to prove to him the opposite, during these months, that this would give him up. With a gesture of the hand, I pushed him away. " I’m sorry, Ryusui. As I’ve explained many times before, I’m not interested." I took a dramatic break. ".. to you."

He whined loudly like a little baby, fogetting his money behind to get close to me. "You’re making a mistake!"

"I have made many mistakes in my life," I answered sharply.

"Then add another to your long list." I nailed him down with my sharp look, sketching a tight smile. Nothing to do. That man would never wave the white flag in the sky. However, it was becoming a nuisance, and having it close to me like a fin was starting to run out. For the worse.

I had only one idea that could have saved me in that instant, from a near future in which he was no longer clinging to me like an octopus: make him believe he had a chance with me. A bold idea; nevertheless, it had to be tried. Either it will make it or break it.

"Maybe, in the future, you might have a chance…" I implied in a vague tone, already heading somewhere, any, to get him off my back. I could swear to see his eyes shining remarkably with hope, and a new fire, fueled by determination.

He snapped his fingers, his iconic gesture that everyone, by now, had learned to recognize, and if he did, it was because he decided to do something. There were no roads back.

"HA-HA!" His laughter seemed to flow throughout the Ishigami village. Even Senku and Chrome turned to us, with confused scowls, to see what was so funny at the time. But Ryusui found nothing amusing in this situation, except a challenge to complete.

"So be it! I’ll show you how much I’m willing to change your mind. Anything to get the chance to become yours!"

Though I did not turn to look at him, once again, his muscular arms clasped my waists, turning my body to meet his. Face to face. "You, damned Nanami, what do you want now?!" That gesture had taken me by surprise, because he was not used to come so near me, but with his cheeky smile, he kissed me on both the cheeks. A quick gesture that made me blush remarkably in my face, almost to feel it burn under the palms of my hands.

"What the f...?!"

"You don’t know it, but you’re already mine!"

[goldsainz]

# FC43 — NAVIDAD, DULCE NAVIDAD !

MASTERLIST !

SERIES MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ you spend christmas with franco and his family on their farm.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ lots of argentinian food references.

003. NOTE !

✯ this has been the funnest of all the parts to write, simply because it’s the closest to my christmas experience. i kinda went overboard with all the food references, but it’s my culture and i’m proud of it yk?

word count : 1,8k

As the sun sets over the wide, open fields of the farm, the air fills with the rich aroma of the asado cooking on the grill. Smoke rises in gentle swirls, carrying the scent of sizzling chorizos and perfectly seasoned steaks. Franco moves with ease among his family, greeting relatives with cheek kisses and exchanging cheerful banter. He laughs easily, his relaxed demeanor infectious, and yet, you can’t help but notice the way his eyes find yours amidst the bustling activity. The warmth of the glowing fairy lights draped across the wooden beams of the patio matches the joy in his dark eyes whenever he looks your way.

The night hums with the sound of acoustic guitar, Franco’s cousin leads the music with lively claps, encouraging others to join in. Laughter bubbles around the long wooden table, where plates of empanadas, chimichurri-drenched meats, and bowls of creamy ensalada rusa are passed from hand to hand. Glasses of malbec and sparkling cider clink together in cheerful toasts. Franco’s family welcomes you with open arms, their warmth and humor making you feel as though you’ve been part of these celebrations forever.

“Come on, sing with me!” Franco's cousin calls out, grinning at you. “Don’t be shy—Franco’s been bragging about how good your voice is.”

You laugh nervously, glancing at Franco, who shrugs with a sheepish smile. “I might have mentioned it,” he says, his tone teasing.

Before you can respond, Franco’s mum appears, balancing a tray of freshly baked pan dulce. Her warm eyes crinkle with a smile as she sets it down on the table. “So, this is the one who’s stolen Franco’s attention,” she says, her tone playful but kind. She places a hand on your arm, her touch light and reassuring. “He talks about you all the time, you know.”

“Mamá,” Franco groans, his ears turning red as his mum chuckles.

“Don’t ‘Mamá’ me,” she says, raising an eyebrow at her son before turning back to you. “I’m glad he brought you here. It’s not easy to keep up with him, but it’s clear you’ve done a good job.”

You smile, feeling the warmth in her words. “Thank you for having me. Everyone’s been so welcoming—it’s easy to see why Franco loves it here.”

She nods, her expression softening. “Family is everything to us. And anyone Franco cares about becomes part of our family too.”

The guitar music shifts to a softer tune, and Franco’s cousin calls out again. “Alright, enough talking! Join in already!” He strums a familiar melody, and the group begins singing along, their voices weaving together like an impromptu choir.

Franco leans closer to you, his voice low. “If you sing, I’ll sing too,” he offers with a grin. “But I can’t promise I’ll be in tune.”

You laugh, nudging him lightly. “Deal. But don’t blame me if everyone starts covering their ears.”

As the evening wears on, Franco’s cousin pulls you both into the group, his energy contagious. You find yourself singing, clapping, and laughing alongside the family, the warmth of their joy wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. Even Franco, who earlier seemed content to stay in the background, joins in with an endearingly off-key enthusiasm that leaves everyone in fits of laughter. His mum watches from the side, her eyes glowing with pride as she sees her son so happy.

Later, as you sit down with a plate of dessert, Franco’s cousin plops down next to you, holding a bottle of beer. “So,” he says with a sly smile, “how’s it feel being the star of Franco’s stories? He usually doesn’t bring anyone here unless they’re pretty special.”

You glance at Franco, who’s caught mid-laugh across the table. “I think I’m still getting used to all of this,” you admit. “But it’s been amazing.”

“Good answer,” the cousin says with a wink. “We’re glad you’re here. And trust me, if you ever need embarrassing Franco stories, I’ve got plenty.”

Franco catches the last part of the conversation and groans. “Don’t you dare,” he warns, but his grin betrays the lightheartedness in his tone.

The cousin leans closer, whispering just loud enough for you to hear. “I’ll let you in on a secret—he may act cool, but he’s got a soft spot a mile wide. You’ll see.”

The evening unfolds with warmth and laughter, each moment weaving you further into Franco’s world. Amid the lively chatter and clinking glasses, you often catch Franco’s gaze, his dark eyes softening with unspoken emotion every time they meet yours.

As the guitar music shifts to a softer tune, Franco leans over, his voice low enough to be heard only by you. “Come on,” he whispers, his lips curving into a playful smile as he tilts his head toward the fields. “I want to show you something.”

He guides you past the barn, where the soft nickers of horses and the rustle of hay mingle with the symphony of crickets. The path winds through the tall grasses, their silvery edges catching the light of the moon. The warmth of his hand in yours contrasts with the cool night breeze as you approach the old oak tree at the edge of the property. Strings of twinkling Christmas lights wrapped around its trunk cast a gentle glow, their reflections dancing in the small pond nearby.

Franco stops beneath the tree, his gaze lifting to the vast expanse of stars above. “I’ve always loved how clear the sky is here,” he murmurs, his voice soft and contemplative. “It’s grounding, you know? Being here, under all this, surrounded by family.” He pauses, his smile growing warmer as he turns to you. “Christmas has always been my favorite time of year because it’s about family and love. This year, though... it’s different. Better.”

You glance up at the stars, their brilliance mirrored in his dark eyes. “It’s beautiful,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “I can see why you love it here. It feels... peaceful.”

He nods, his expression thoughtful. “It is. It’s the kind of place where you can just breathe, let everything else fade away. Sometimes, I forget how much I miss it until I come back.”

You tilt your head, studying him. “Do you think you’ll always feel this way about it? That no matter where you go, you’ll come back here?”

His lips curve into a small smile. “I think so. There’s something about home—it stays with you. And now…” He hesitates, as though searching for the right words. “Now it’ll remind me of you too.”

Your breath catches at his confession, but before you can respond, Franco reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small box wrapped in rustic paper, tied with a sprig of holly. “For you,” he says, his voice almost shy, the faint blush on his cheeks illuminated by the golden light. Inside is a delicate bracelet, its charm shaped like a tiny star, glinting as if it holds a piece of the sky above.

“Franco, it’s beautiful,” you say, your fingers brushing over the charm. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he interjects gently. “It reminded me of you—how you light up a room, how you make everything feel brighter.” He pauses, his gaze steady. “I just wanted you to have something to remember this night. Us.”

Before you can thank him, Franco steps closer, his hands gently cupping your face. His thumb brushes your cheek, and his eyes search yours with a mix of affection and nervous vulnerability. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice tender, “for making this Christmas unforgettable.” Slowly, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that feels both sweet and grounding, as though the entire world has narrowed to just this moment, just the two of you beneath the vast Argentine sky.

When you finally pull back, the soft hum of his family's music drifts faintly on the breeze, mingling with the distant crackle of the asado. Franco intertwines his fingers with yours, his smile unguarded. “Ready to go back?” he asks, his voice teasing.

You shake your head, laughing softly. “Not yet. I want to stay here a little longer.”

“Good,” he replies, his grin widening as he pulls you closer. “Because I wasn’t ready to leave either.” He glances at the bracelet on your wrist, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “You know, you make me want to believe in those cheesy Christmas movie moments.”

You chuckle, nudging him lightly. “Cheesy? This moment is straight out of one.”

He laughs, a rich, warm sound that seems to fill the night. “Maybe. But I don’t mind. As long as it’s with you.”

After a while, Franco leans back against the tree, his arm gently pulling you closer. “You know,” he starts, his voice thoughtful, “when I was a kid, I used to come out here whenever I needed to think. It felt like the whole world was far away, like nothing else mattered except this place and the stars.”

You tilt your head, resting it lightly on his shoulder. “Do you still feel that way now?”

He’s quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the sky. “Not in the same way,” he admits softly. “But tonight... being here with you... it feels like I’ve found something even better. Someone to share it with.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart ache in the best way, and you turn to meet his eyes. Before you can say anything, the distant sound of Franco’s mum calling out breaks the moment. “Franco! Don’t think I don’t know where you’re hiding. Bring her back before we finish the dessert without you!”

Franco laughs, the sound warm and carefree, and reluctantly straightens up. “Looks like we’ve been caught,” he says, his tone playful.

You laugh along, reaching for his hand. “We can’t let them eat all the flan without us.”

As you make your way back toward the farmhouse, Franco squeezes your hand gently. “Promise me one thing,” he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

“What’s that?” you ask, looking up at him.

“That this won’t be the last Christmas we spend together.”

Your heart swells at the earnestness in his words, and you nod, a smile curving your lips. “I promise.”

When you return to the patio, Franco’s mum greets you both with a knowing look, her hands on her hips. “About time,” she teases, handing you each a plate of flan with dulce de leche. “We saved you some, but only because she’s a guest,” she adds, gesturing to you with a wink.

Franco’s cousin smirks from his seat by the guitar. “And here we thought you two were rehearsing for your own Christmas movie.”

Franco rolls his eyes, but his grin remains unshaken as he pulls out a chair for you. The warmth and liveliness of his family’s celebration embrace you once more, but this time, everything feels even more magical—because now, you’re not just a guest. You’re part of it all.

[ewartwoods]

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[bbkoolkatz]

pairing: barbarian prince! katsuki bakugo x fem! reader.

content warnings: FEMALE READER! physical fighting [training] smooching, shared bath, husband undressing wife [without permission] husband cleaning wife [literally, because you we're dirty] other than that there's nothing major... yet... sigh...

completely forgot I was supposed to upload this Saturday... so here ya go! can't wait for the next chapter *evil giggle* hope ya enjoy!

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 2; 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖒𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖓 4.3𝔨+ 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔰

chapter 1

"he says, you are too stiff, frú mín!" ragna called, perched on a nearby boulder, "it makes you slow!" translating katsuki's barked criticisms.

he lunged forward, swinging the wooden blade at your feet, throwing you off your footing.

katsuki stood before you, as you stumbled, sweat glistening on his toned body with the harsh sunlight, beaming down on him, "hold your ground," he growled, lifting his sword to charge at you again. you took a breath, chest heaving as you gripped the handle of the wooden practice sword, raising your weapon to meet his.

the clashing of pine echoed through the clearing, the vibration rattling through your arms, into your chest and your knees buckled slightly under the force. but you grit your teeth, stubbornly refusing to fall.

you quickly adjust your stance, the muscles in your legs trembling as you tried to balance. katsuki's hot gaze narrowed, a smirk of sorts splayed on his face.

"again!" he barked, stepping forward a bit to launch an attack. the wooden sword came at you in an arch, the force of his strike sending a jolt up your arms, and your grip slipped, leaving you with barely any time to parry.

"too slow!" he spat, his voice hitting you like a whip as he struck again, aiming for your side.

your flesh rippled as the flat end of the training sword connected with your ribs, knocking the air out of your lungs. you stumble back, clutching your side as you gasped for breath.

"your enemies won't show you mercy," he circled you, pacing, like a predator stalking it's prey. forcing air back into your aching lungs, you straightened yourself, salty sweat dripping down your brow to sting your eyes.

ragna tilted her head, observing, lips twitching to form a smile on her beautifully sculpted face as she translates your husband's words for you.

"again," you rasped, voice hoarse but determined to make him falter just once.

katsuki raised a brow, eyes narrowing at your resolve as he charged forward without another word, sword swooshing through the air.

stepping aside, you doged his strike as you brought your weapon up, aiming for his shoulder. katsuki—obviously—blocked effortlessly, the impact reverberating through your bones, but you pushed forward, pressing your advantage as your heart pounded in your chest.

your strikes came faster, more fluid, as though the rhythm of the fight was finally clicking into place. your arms burned with every effort to move them, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps, as you kept fighting.

your husband's eyes gleamed with a vicious light, his lips curling into a wild, feral grin as he matched your pace, his movements precise and unrelenting as ever, pushing you to your limits.

every fiber of muscle in your body screamed in protest and katsuki's blade collided with yours once more, the clash nearly sending you to your knees. you grunted, planting your feet firmly in the dirt as you pushed back with all your strength.

katsuki's grin widened as he kicked you off balance, sprawling you out on the dirt field in under two seconds... you lay there for a moment, squinting up at the endless expanse of sky until the familiar, wild tuffs of blonde hair loomed over you, casting a shadow over your exhausted frame.

"get up," he ordered, offering no hand to help... you huffed a puff of breath, rolling onto your side to push yourself to your knees, the hard cracked earth grounding you as your muscles throbbed under your skin.

gods you wanted a bath right now... a nice, cold, spring water bath... wack! and you were on the ground again. "your mind isn't focused!" ragna cackled your husbands words, holding her stomach and covering her mouth in a feeble attempt to hide her amusement.

"you're getting better, my lady," she smiled, leaning over your—once again—sprawled out body on the ground. you brought a hand up to wipe the sweat off your forehead, "i'll die before the rebels get me," you laughed, a hoarse, gravelly sound scraping it's way out of your throat.

☆.｡.:*❀.｡.:*☆ 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔫𝔢𝔵𝔱 𝔡𝔞𝔶

smoke curled lazily from the chimneys of the villagers homes. the smell of freshly baked bread mingled with the earthy aroma of tilled soil as the pang of the blacksmith's hammer rang in the distance, a rhythmic pulse that echoed like a heartbeat of the clan.

"are you sure about this, my lady?" ragna queried, a little skeptical as she stepped in stride beside you. you nod, assuring her of your decision, "if i'm to be part of this clan, ragna, i can't just sit at stronghold and watch," gaze sweeping over the bustling activity as you adjust your shawl around your shoulders.

ragna's plush lips cracked little smile at your determination. your first stop was the weaving circle, where several women sat on low stools, their fingers deftly threading wool into intricate patterns. their chatter hushed as you approached them.

the women exchanged awkward glances, muttering amongst themselves, before a middle aged woman with streaks of gray in her braid, gestured to an empty stool next to her, for you to sit.

the work was meticulous, the rhythm of the loom soothing your nerves as your fingers fumbled over the threads, earning quiet murmurs of disapproval from the others... the elder woman stood behind you, gently guiding your hands to correct any mistake, until she finally nodded her approval.

after weaving a few pieces of cloth, you moved to the fields, where men and women worked side by side, their hands covered in soil as they prepared the land for planting.

you knelt beside an old, wrinkled man, his gnarled hands moving with ease as he dug rows into the soil. he glanced down at you, brows furrowing as you picked up a tool and began to mimic his movements. he said nothing, slowing his movements for you to get a better look and follow.

"keep your back straight, my lady," ragna instructed, crouching beside you as she translated the old man's quiet words of advice.

sweat beaded on your brow as soil clung to your skin with each swing and dig, that sent a dull ache through your arms and back. the work was grueling, but with every row completed, you were closer to finishing and getting in your bath...

when night came, you found yourself in the kitchens, where women bustled about, preparing meals for the workers. the aroma of herbs and roasted meat overwhelmed your nostrils, as the heat of the ovens welcome you inside.

"hæ! þú ert hér! loksins hér!" a young girl beamed, running over as she saw you enter. "she says, hello, you finally made it," ragna chuckled, patting the girl on her back. "ég er celeste," the young girl introduced herself, gently taking your hand in hers to guide you over to the bubbling cauldrons. "it seems she's excited to see you, my lady."

"it seems so," you giggle softly, at the girls eagerness.

-

"don't stir too much, or you'll ruin it," one of the cooks muttered, correcting your technique as she leaned over your shoulder.

ragna smirked, her translation tinged with amusement as she leaned closer. "you've been given a passable teacher, my lady," nudging your shoulder with her elbow as you playfully rolled your eyes.

the women around you began to soften their guarded expressions as they watched you work. they shared stories of past harvests, of children born and loved ones lost, their words painting a picture of a people as complex and enduring as the mountains that sheltered them.

by the time the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and violets, you were exhausted. the day's labour lingered in your body, but the tension that had once filled the air around you, felt lighter.

upon your return to the stronghold, you saw katsuki waiting at the entrance, his arms crossed over his chest as he glanced at the little dirt, smudged on your face and clothes, and the weariness in your steps. an almost imperceptible smirk crawled over his thin lips as you walked up to him leaning against the stronghold's walls.

ragna stepped forward, translating his words, "you look like someone buried you alive," he snickered, his tone gruff, minus the usual edge to them. you shy away, looking at the ground.

he lifted your head by your chin to look at him, eyes drifting down to your chapped lips then back up to your tired eyes.

he kneeled down in front of you and you turn to ragna, "what is he- woah!" his fingers sink into the back of your thighs as your hip bones pressed into his beefy shoulder, with your ass on display—next to his face—you prop yourself up, your hands pushing against his flexing back muscles, as he walked with you through the giant wooden doors and up the stairs to your chambers.

his eyes flickered with something as he threw you over his shoulder—pride, perhaps, or respect?—adjusting your weight with a low grunt.

katsuki shoved the heavy doors of your chambers open with his free arm, carrying you inside without so much as a struggle. he set you down on your feet with surprising gentleness, with warm palms resting comfortably on your hips, his narrow crimson eyes scanned over your dirt-smeared frame.

"þú ert skítug..." he muttered under his breath, his voice deep and laced with something you couldn't quite place. his expression was... unreadable as he motioned for you to stay put.

"what?" you whisper, softly shaking your head in confusion. he didn't respond, simply moving toward a small chest tucked away in the corner of your room. he rifled through it briefly before pulling out a clean linen cloth.

you watched him with a mix of curiosity and wariness as he stepped toward you again. he gestured at your dirtied clothing, the meaning clear even if his language wasn't.

"oh, i can do it myself," you insist, raising your hands defensively, though exhaustion made your movements sluggish. katsuki narrowed his eyes even more, with pinched brows. his patience visibly thinning...

"sitja kyrr," he commanded, firm as he gestured for you to stop resisting.

you huffed, crossing your arms in protest, legs trembling slightly under your weight, which didn't go unnoticed, his sharp gaze flicking to your unsteady stance before letting out a low grunt. without waiting for your permission, he stepped closer and began unfastening the ties of your shawl and outer layer.

"hey! i'm perfectly capable o—" you started to argue, but he silenced you with a sharp glance and growled, "kyrr."

his fingers worked quickly but carefully, his rough hands brushing against your skin as he peeled away the layers of dirt-streaked fabric. you felt your cheeks heat as he removed the last of your garments, leaving you exposed to his unwavering gaze. he didn't leer or linger, though; his movements were efficient, his focus entirely on the task at hand.

once you were bare, he reached for the cloth and dipped it into the warm water waiting in the tub. he wrung it out, motioning for you to step closer. he brought the damp cloth up to your face, carefully rubbing the dirt stains off, he moved down your arms, to your chest—where your heart pounded against your ribs—rubbing down your torso, to your soft legs all the way down to your aching calves. it felt like he was scared he'd hurt you with the softness he used to clean you off.

"farðu," he said, gesturing to the stone tub, impatiently.

you hesitated for a moment, the language barrier making his commands more intimidating than they probably were. but the promise of warm water was too tempting to resist, and you eased yourself into the tub with a sigh of relief.

the heat soothed your aching muscles immediately, and you leaned back against the smooth stone, letting your eyes flutter shut. that peace was short-lived, however, as katsuki shed his clothing and stepped into the tub with you.

"wait—what are you doing?" you stammered, your face flushing as you quickly averted your gaze.

he ignored your meaningless words, his expression neutral as he settled in behind you. his hands found your shoulders, rough palms gliding over your smooth skin.

"katsuki, i—" you started to protest, but his fingers pressed into a knot of tension in your shoulder, and you couldn't stop the sigh that escaped your lips. his hands were firm but careful, his touch surprisingly soothing as he continued his task.

"þar," he murmured, his voice low and steady as if explaining something to you. you didn't understand the words, but the tone carried a strange reassurance, as though he was telling you to let him handle this.

you relaxed slightly under his touch, the tension in your body melting away with each pass of his hands. he moved methodically, scrubbing away whatever dirt that'd been clinging to your skin and hair. when his hands found their way to your back, you leaned forward, giving him better access.

it wasn't until his fingers brushed over the curve of your waist that the atmosphere in the bath... changed... his touch lingered just a moment too long, his fingers pressing lightly against your skin as though testing your reaction.

you turned your head to glance at him over your shoulder, your breath catching when you caught the intensity in his gaze, his vermilion eyes burning with a heat that matched the warmth of the water surrounding you both.

"is something wrong?" you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

he didn't reply—not with words, at least. instead, he leaned closer, his hand moving to cup your jaw as his lips brushed against yours in a tentative but firm kiss.

your initial surprise melted away as the kiss deepened, the heat between you both growing as his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. the water lapped gently against the edges of the tub, the only sound in the quiet chamber besides your mingled breaths.

when you finally pulled away, your heart was racing, as your face flushed from more than just the warmth of the bath. katsuki's lips parted as if to speak, but the words never came. instead, he rested his forehead against yours, his breaths coming slow and steady as if grounding himself.

"ég hef eitthvað handa þér." he rasped as you leaned into him again. what on earth did he just say? you have absolutely no idea... but you'll ask ragna after your bath.

☆.｡.:*❀.｡.:*☆

katsuki had dragged you out of bed at the crack of dawn and brought you out into the forest, in the outskirts of the stronghold, which was eerily quiet, save for the rustle of leaves and the occasional snaps of twigs underfoot. katsuki walked ahead, his broad frame cutting through the bramble with ease. you followed cautiously, your breath visible in the crisp morning air. he hadn't spoken much—if at all—since dragging you out of bed and motioning for you to come with.

now, the towering trees gave way to the dark mouth of a cave. its yawning entrance loomed before you, cold air seeping out like a ghostly warning. you hesitated, turning to katsuki by your side.

"komdu," he barked over his shoulder, the command abrupt but not by any means harsh.

still, unease prickled at your skin. you stepped into the cave, following him into the deepening darkness. the light from the entrance grew faint as you moved further in, swallowed by shadows that seemed to press against you.

"katsuki?" you whisper, but he offered no reply, only a grunt as he suddenly stopped, causing you to bump into his back with a mphf.

before you could question him, the ground vibrated beneath your feet, a low rumble echoing through the cavern, resonating in your chest. then, two massive orbs of glowing crimson pierced the darkness ahead, locking onto you with a huff.

your breath caught in your throat, as the rumbling grew louder, accompanied by the sound of scales shifting against each other. a massive head emerged from the shadows, scales shimmering faintly in the dim light. the dragon's maw opened, revealing rows of sharp teeth as it let out a deep, guttural growl.

"þetta er hann," katsuki said, gesturing to the creature with an almost casual wave.

you gaped at him, words escaping your brain. a dragon? you weren't sure what you had expected, but it certainly wasn't a fucking dragon.

"what is that?" your voice came out as a weak murmur, tinged with both awe and terror. you had to make sure you weren't seeing or hearing things...

"drengr minn," katsuki replied, based on the look on your face, stepping closer to the dragon and placing a hand against its massive snout, the beast huffed, as if in acknowledgment.

your legs threatened to give out as katsuki turned to you, motioning for you to come closer. you shook your head, frozen in place.

"komdu hingað," he called, his voice firm.

reluctantly, you stepped forward, your pulse thundering in your ears. the dragon's gaze followed you, unblinking and intense. when you were close enough, katsuki grabbed your hand and placed it against the warm, rough scales of the dragon's snout.

the beast rumbled again. it was almost... a purr.

"ekki hrædd," katsuki muttered, his voice softer now, though it still carried their usual edge.

katsuki pulled himself up onto the dragon's back, his movements sure and practiced. he extended a hand to you, waiting. you hesitated, but the weight of his expectation—and the dragon's unyielding stare—left you with little choice. with a deep breath, you grasped his hand and allowed him to pull you up and plop you down in front of him.

the dragon shifted beneath you, its massive body uncoiling as it prepared to take off. your hands instinctively grip katsuki's forearms, your heart hammering in your chest.

without warning, the dragon launched itself out of the cave and into the sky with an ear piercing roar, as you screamed your lungs out.

the ground fell away beneath you, the wind tearing at your hair and clothes as the beast's wings beat powerfully. for a moment, fear threatened to consume you. but then the view unfolded around you—the sprawling forest below, the endless expanse of sky above, and the distant peaks of mountains on the horizon.

your grip on katsuki tightened as the dragon banked to the left, the motion sending a thrilling jolt through your body. he turned your head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he barked something over the wind. though you didn't understand him, his tone was definitely teasing, almost amused by the expression on your face.

slowly, the fear ebbed, replaced by a tentative awe. the dragon's movements were surprisingly smooth, its powerful wings carrying you effortlessly through the sky.

"oh my gods," you murmured, your voice barely audible over the wind.

he glanced down, raising an eyebrow in question.

"this is..." you trailed off, searching for the words. "unbelievable," you grin, your mouth drying out with the wind.

he didn't reply, but his smirk widened, his chest puffing slightly with pride as though he understood you.

as the dragon soared higher, you found yourself loosening your grip just enough to look around, as katsuki snakes a strong arm around your waist to keep you from falling over. the world seemed smaller from this height, a patchwork of green and brown stitched together by rivers of silver. for a brief moment, you forgot your fear, your uncertainty, and the weight of everything that had brought you here.

when the dragon began its descent, the rush of air grew fiercer, and your grip on katsuki returned. he muttered something under his breath, seemily reassuring you of something.

by the time you landed, your legs felt like jelly, and your heart hadn't yet stopped racing. katsuki dismounted first, extending a hand to help you down.

you took it, your knees wobbling as your feet touched the ground. "þú stóðst þig vel," katsuki rasped, low and seemingly approving.

-

your body vibrated with excitement as you stood outside the stronghold, feeling the cool breeze brushing against your skin. today, is the beginning of your journey back to your kingdom.

katsuki, stoic as ever, walked with his dragon, its massive form thumping its way around. the beast moved like molten lava, each muscle rippling under crimson scales as it emerged fully into the sunlight, its fiery red eyes scanned the clearing as it's massive body cast a long shadow on the ground.

katsuki turned to you, his intense gaze holding a question.

"farðu upp," he urged, gesturing to the dragon's massive back.

you hesitated, your stomach knotting at the memory of the flight earlier. while breathtaking, it had also been utterly terrifying.

"i'm not sure i can do that again," you confessed, nervously laughing as you shook your head in refusal, "i'll stick with the tetsugami."

he frowned, his brows knitting together in mild frustration. "ekki vera veik," he snapped, though the edge in his tone softened slightly as he stepped closer. "þú lifðir það áður."

"you do know that i have not the faintest idea of what you're saying..." you counter, looking him up and down, crossing your arms.

he stared at you for a brief second, his lips fixing into a scowl. after a moment, he let out an irritated breath and muttered something to himself.

he motioned for the dragon to stay put, his sharp whistle echoing through the clearing. the beast settled onto its haunches, its wings furling tightly against its sides as it let out a snort. katsuki didn't argue further, instead taking a few purposeful steps towards you.

"ég mun horfa ofan frá." he grumbled, the words curt but resigned.

you furrowed your brow, piecing together his meaning. he wasn't thrilled, but he accepted your refusal.

hours later, preparations for the journey were complete. you stood at the edge of the stronghold, the weight of the coming trip settling over you.

in the thick of the tall trees, a sound of heavy, slow and deliberate footsteps, accompanied by a metallic scrape that sent delightful shivers up your spine, echoed.

you avert your gaze from your husband, and toward the noise coming from behind them. your eyes widened as the tetsugami emerged into view. it's rust-red carapace glinting in the sunlight like aged armor. it's body was crab-like in shape with a wide, flat shell that curved protectively over it's back.

it's seven remaining legs, each the width of a tree trunk, moved with surprising grace despite the size and weight of the creature. the absence of its front right leg didn't seem to hinder it's movements; it's gait was steady, with powerful legs sinking into the soil with each step, leaving deep impressions behind. its pinchers clacked excitedly as it shifted its weight, the sound reverberating like distant thunder as its antennae twitched, scanninng the air for potential threats, while it's small, bead-like eyes glimmered with an eerie intelligence.

strapped to it's surface were supplies for the journey—barrels of provisions, rolled up tents, and neatly stacked crates secured with thick leather straps.

"þetta er tetsugami," mitsuki stood proud, her voice calm and matter-of-fact. you turned toward her, recognizing the words enough to know she was introducing the creature. her expression softened as she gestured to the beast, inviting you to approach.

you hesitated, glancing back at katsuki, who was already climbing onto his dragon's back. his crimson eyes met yours briefly before he turned his focus to his mount, silently leaving you to make your own choice.

you stepped closer to the tetsugami, its sheer size making you feel small in comparison—as if the huge people you now live with weren't enough... its mandibles clicked rhythmically, a surprisingly soothing sound as you placed a tentative hand on the edge of its shell. the surface was rough and cool, like weathered stone, but it radiated a subtle warmth from the sunlight it absorbed.

"he's beautiful," you murmured, more to yourself than anyone else.

the tetsugami let out a low, resonant hum—a sound that rumbled deep in its body, vibrating through your fingertips, like a contented purr, and it made you smile.

ragna approached from the side, her brows arching in surprise as she took in the sight of the beast. "quite the creature, isn't it?" she said, though her tone carried an air of caution.

you turned to her with a grin, "ride with me," you offered, gesturing to the sturdy harness slung across the tetsugami's shell.

ragna hesitated, her gaze flicking between you and the creature. "the tetsugami is only brought out for important people, my lady-"

"you are important," you insisted, taking her hands in yours, your voice soft and earnest, "it's a long journey, and i'd feel better having you by my side."

ragna's lips pressed into a thin line, her expression conflicted for a moment before she nodded, "v-very well," she gave in, sighing as you clapped to yourself.

with mitsuki's help, you climbed onto the tetsugami's back, settling into the cushioned saddle fastened securely near the center. the saddle was surprisingly comfortable, with a wide padded seat, designed for stability. ragna joined you, careful as she adjusted her position beside you.

the tetsugami let out another hum, chittering as it adjusted to the added weight. its antennae twitched again, and it began to move, its legs carrying it forward with a deliberate, swaying rhythm.

as the caravan set off, the sounds of boots crunching against dirt and the occasional clang of weapons accompanied the steady thuds of the giant crab's steps, broke the silence. the missing leg added an uneven cadence to its movements, a faint scrape with every third step that served as a reminder of its battle-scarred history.

katsuki's dragon took to the skies with a powerful leap, its wings slicing through the air as it ascended, leaving the rest of you to follow below.

the journey had begun.

»»————> 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘! <————««

"frú mín" - my lady

"hæ! þú ert hér! loksins hér!" - Hello! You're here! Finally here!

"ég er celeste" - I am Celeste

"þú ert skítug" - You're dirty

"sitja kyrr" - Stay still

"kyrr" - Still

"farðu" - Go

"þar" - There

"ég hef eitthvað handa þér" - I have something for you

"komdu" - come

"þetta er hann" - this is him

"drengr minn" - my boy

"komdu hingað" - come here

"ekki hrædd" - don't be afraid

"þú stóðst þig vel" - you did well

"farðu upp" - get up

"ekki vera veik" - don’t be weak

"þú lifðir það áður" - you survived it before

"ég mun horfa ofan frá" - I will watch from above

"þetta er tetsugami" - this is tetsugami

if you've already asked to be in the tag list and you're not there then please check your settings and fix it accordingly or ensure that you have at least one post on your blog and ask again.

»»————> 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙!

@twoplayergaymers @ch3rryjampi3 @lxdystxrdustt @selfishgucci @sleepyfxce @depressed-waffle-time @abinformyobsessions @kodzubaby @cottagedumpling @msjaeger @condy-wants-a-cookie @who-xo @naiomiwinchester @your-mum3000 @weebperson2003 @koigeidi @lanadelgarf @misaki-kira8 @lightsinmycity @kit-katsukii @the2ndl @kalulakunundrum

mlist!

[ferrarifudds]

Hiii...

Can you write a long (pls) 😭😭 ollie bearman fic..(fluff)

In which she is a doc..

And he is very clingy (like really) and she also loves it.. and probably a cuddly fic where they are just adoring/loving each other maybe..

And than she does something so small to her but it made him realise like she is the one and he decided to introduce to her family ( i mean they know but finally an official yet casual meet uk)

And his siblings also loves her..

From The Start. ✷ Ollie Bearman

Pairing: Ollie Bearman x Gf!reader

Summary: When you and your boyfriend Ollie finally get to spend time with each other after months being apart.

Word Count: 4.6k Bang.

Disclaimer/s: very fluffy, Like. Extremely fluffy! talks about future, and whatnot. yeah.

Vera’s Voice! thoroughly enjoyed writing this after not writing on here in a fat minute… thanks for ur request!!!!! i kinda strayed away from what u asked for but it’s still rlly sweet!!!! hope u enjoy :’)

Ollie didn’t text you much today, which wasn’t unusual when he was busy with team commitments, training, or flying between countries.

You’d gotten used to the quiet patches in your relationship, filling the spaces with your own routines like classes, labs, and studying.

But, since he moved to Italy, the Bearman family had taken you in like one of their own. His mum always checked in on you, inviting you over for Sunday lunches or sending care packages during exam weeks.

His siblings treated you like their cool older sister, always asking you about university life or finding joy in spending time with you.

So today, when Terri Bearman mentioned she was working late and hinted at a busy week ahead, you’d offered to cook dinner for them.

You couldn’t do much for Ollie from afar, but looking after his family felt like the next best thing.

Standing in their cozy kitchen, you stirred a simmering pot of pasta sauce while keeping an eye on the bread in the oven.

A playlist hummed softly from the speaker on the counter, the familiar rhythm filling the cozy space. Your sleeves were rolled up, an apron tied snugly around your waist, and a wooden spoon in hand.

“You should’ve seen it,” Amalie said, eyes wide with excitement. “My instructor said I cleared the jump perfectly. Best I’ve done all month.”

“That’s amazing, my love,” You said, beaming at her. “Maybe we should celebrate with a little tea shop date this week? My treat.”

She laughed. “Can never pass up on a beautiful offer like that. Could we stop by a bookshop too?”

“Of course,” You replied, already picturing the stack of books she’d undoubtedly try to take home.

Thomas glanced up from his phone, a teasing smirk on his face. “You spoil her too much.”

“She deserves it,” You said with a shrug. “Besides, I like spending time with her.”

And that was true.

Spending time with the Bearmans had become second nature to you. Your parents were often away on business trips, leaving you with an empty house that felt too quiet and lonely.

Your dear boyfriend’s home, on the other hand, was always warm and welcoming—a place where you could laugh, cook, and be part of something bigger, even if he wasn’t always there.

Just as you were plating the pasta and setting the table, the sound of the front door opening caught everyone’s attention.

“Something smells incredible,” Terri’s familiar voice called out as she stepped inside, balancing her purse and a stack of folders from work.

“Hi,” You said, smiling warmly as you turned to greet her.

“Oh, love, thank you so much for this.” She said with an endearing laugh, setting her things down. She walked over to peek into the pot on the stove. “This looks incredible. What’s on the menu tonight?”

“Spaghetti with homemade sauce and garlic bread,” You grinned.

Terri placed a hand on your shoulder, her expression softening. “You’re a treasure, you know that? We’re so lucky to have you around. Ollie is lucky to have you.”

“Thank you,” You replied, blushing slightly.

As you worked on finishing the last few touches for dinner, Terri began chatting about her day. “David won’t be home for another hour so, don’t worry about setting him a plate, darling.” She assured.

“No worries, I can just leave him one so he can get straight to eating.” You insisted.

And Terri smiled that. “Well, I was on the phone with Ollie earlier,” She spoke, changing the topic and grabbing a glass of water. “He seems to be alright—said he’d call again tomorrow, but he’s keeping busy with training.”

Your heart squeezed at the mention of him. It had been months since you’d last seen Ollie, and even though you talked every chance you got, nothing could replace having him here.

Amalie perked up at the mention of her brother. “Did he say anything about visiting soon?”

“Not yet,” Terri said with a sigh. “You know how it is.”

You nodded, trying to hide the ache you felt. You missed him more than words could say, but you didn’t want to dwell on it.

“Come on, dinner’s almost ready,” You smiled, forcing a cheerful tone as you pulled the tray from the oven.

Unbeknownst to all of you, Ollie’s car had just pulled into the driveway. He stepped out, stretching after the long drive, and looked up at the familiar house.

He hadn’t told anyone he was coming—he hadn’t even planned to be home, but after months of constant travel and racing, he couldn’t resist the pull to see his family.

As he approached the front door, he could hear the faint sound of laughter and the clinking of plates. He paused for a moment, smiling to himself at the familiar comfort of home.

Pushing open the door, he stepped inside, his bag slung over one shoulder. The sight before him made his heart stop.

You were standing in the kitchen, laughing at something Thomas had said as you wiped your hands on a dish towel. Amalie was reaching for a napkin, and Terri poured herself a cup of tea.

It was so ordinary, so perfect, and he had to blink to make sure it wasn’t some kind of dream.

“Am I interrupting?” Ollie spoke, his voice breaking through the moment.

Every head turned toward the door.

“Ollie?!” Amalie squealed, leaping off her chair and rushing to him.

“Ollie?” You whispered, frozen in place, your wide eyes locked on him.

“Surprise,” He said, grinning as Amalie threw her arms around him.

You were the next to move, practically running to him and throwing your arms around his neck. He dropped his bag and held you tightly, his face buried in your hair.

“Oh my goodness, you’re home,” You said, your voice thick with emotion. “You’re here!”

“I’m home,” He murmured, his grip tightening as if he never wanted to let go.

Terri stood by the counter, her hand covering her mouth as her eyes welled up. “You didn’t tell me you were coming back!”

“Didn’t tell anyone,” Ollie said, finally pulling back to look at you. His hands stayed on your waist, his gaze soft and full of love. “And I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“I’m always here,” You said with a small laugh, brushing a tear from your cheek as he pulled away and walked over towards his mom to hug her.

“Even better,” He said, turning his head with a smile.

After a round of hugs and excited chatter, the room settled as Ollie shrugged off his jacket and set it neatly over the back of a chair.

He looked at you, a familiar warmth in his gaze, as you picked up the tray of bread and set it on the table.

“Hungry? You’re just in time for dinner,” You said, smiling as you motioned for him to join.

Ollie laughed softly, the sound filling the room like a melody you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. “Starving, actually.” He grinned, rubbing his hand over his stomach.

“Eat up, darling,” Terri chimed with an insisting hand, her eyes twinkling “Your girl’s been working away all evening. I think she’s better at this than me.”

“Hardly,” You protested with a playful roll of your eyes. “It’s just spaghetti. Nothing fancy.”

“Don’t downplay it,” Ollie said, already reaching for a plate. “If it’s anything like your pancakes, I’m probably about to have the best meal I’ve had in weeks.”

You blushed at his words, nudging him lightly as you passed by. “Try and flatter me all you want, but I’m not taking over Sunday roast duties if this is your way of convincing me.”

Amalie laughed as she slid into her seat. “You’d probably do a better job anyway,” She teased, earning a playful glare from her mum.

Once everyone had taken their seats, the table filled with the comforting aroma of garlic and herbs, the room warmed by laughter and conversation. You watched as Ollie dug into his plate, his smile only growing with each bite.

“Alright,” He said, leaning back after a moment. “I’m officially spoiled. Best meal I’ve had in ages.”

“I’m glad,” You said with a soft grin. “Happy to be of service.”

As the meal continued, Ollie reached under the table, his fingers brushing yours in a quiet, intimate gesture. You looked at him, and the soft smile on his face made your chest ache with how much you loved him.

It was so simple—dinner with his family, laughter filling the air, the small gestures between you that said more than words ever could.

And yet, it was everything.

“You’re amazing,” He said quietly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Stop,” You whispered back, smiling as your cheeks flushed.

“I mean it,” He insisted, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Good thing you won’t ever have to find out,” You murmured, your heart so full it felt like it might burst.

Later, the kitchen was quiet, the lively chatter from dinner having faded as the family moved to the living room to wind down for the evening.

You stood by the sink, your sleeves rolled up, hands submerged in warm soapy water as you worked your way through the last of the dishes.

The faint clinking of plates and running water filled the space, paired with the occasional hum of the fridge.

Ollie leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, quietly watching you. His heart swelled as he took in the sight of you in his family’s kitchen, so natural and at ease in a place that meant so much to him. The warm overhead light reflected off your hair, and there was a faint smile tugging at your lips as you rinsed a glass. He thought about how much he’d missed this—missed you.

Without saying a word, he walked toward you, his footsteps light on the tiled floor. You didn’t hear him approach until his arms wrapped gently around your waist from behind.

“Ollie!” You gasped, startled for a second before relaxing into his embrace.

“Sorry,” He murmured, his voice low and soft against your ear. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You set the plate you were rinsing on the drying rack, your hands dripping with soap suds. “What are you doing?” You asked, though your tone was far from accusing.

“Nothing,” He said simply, resting his chin on your shoulder. His arms tightened slightly around your waist, as though anchoring himself to you. “Ive just missed you.”

You tilted your head toward him, your cheek brushing his. “I’m covered in soap,” You warned, though there was a smile in your voice.

“Don’t care,” He said, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

You laughed quietly, leaning back against his chest. “You’re a little more clingy than usual,” you teased, though your heart was melting at his touch.

“Can you blame me?” He murmured. “It’s been months since I’ve been home.”

Your hands paused, stilling in the water. You turned your head slightly to meet his gaze, finding his eyes soft and filled with a mix of affection and longing.

“I’ve missed you,” You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, the kind of smile that made your knees weak, and nuzzled closer. “You should leave the dishes,” He said, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “They can wait.”

“Can they?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Mhm,” He said, pulling you a little tighter against him. “Because I really, really want you to just sit with me for a bit.”

You let out a small laugh and shook your head. “Fine,” You relented, drying your hands on a nearby towel. “But you’re drying the rest later.”

“Deal,” Ollie said, grinning as he took your hand and led you out of the kitchen. But before you left, he paused, turned back toward you, and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you for being here,” He whispered.

“Always,” you replied, your voice full of warmth as you squeezed his hand.

Ollie’s room felt like the one place in the house that was always waiting for you. You’d spent countless hours in here over the months—whether it was to study when things got too noisy downstairs, or simply to nap when you wanted to steal a few moments of peace.

His posters, his racing memorabilia, and the soft scent of his cologne were all familiar, like a comforting embrace that never left.

You sat cross-legged on the bed, the fabric of one of his hoodies draping comfortably over you as you played with the cuffs. Ollie sat on the edge of the bed, glancing over at you as you made yourself at home in his room.

"I come in here to nap a lot," You admitted, glancing back at him with a grin.

Ollie raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah? Seems like you’ve practically moved in while I’ve been gone."

“Is that so bad?” You grinned, shrugging nonchalantly. “Besides, this is the comfiest room in the house.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “I can’t argue with that. I’ve always wanted a roommate anyways.” His voice sarcastic.

You laughed, rolling your eyes playfully as you leaned back into the pillows, feeling the warmth of his hoodie against your skin. Ollie, still sitting at the edge of the bed, raised his eyebrows as he noticed your gaze.

“What?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Can we trade hoodies?” You asked, your voice light and teasing, but there was a sparkle in your eyes that made him grin.

He looked down at the black Ferrari Driver Academy hoodie you were wearing. “Are you not wearing one of them right now?” He pointed with mock confusion.

“Yeah, well…” You shrugged. “I need a new one because it’s been months since you’ve been home, and the ones I have don’t smell like you anymore.”

His mouth dropped open in playful shock. “They don’t smell like me anymore?”

“Nope,” You said with a dramatic sigh, crossing your arms as though the tragedy was unbearable. “It’s kind of depressing, honestly.”

He laughed, his head tilting back, and ran a hand through his hair. “A little creepy.”

You scoffed playfully. “Rude.”

And he just laughed.

“Please,” You sent him a sweet smile.

Ollie shook his head, another laugh escaping him before he stood up and pulled his hoodie over his head. “Fine. Only because you asked nicely.”

You caught it eagerly, quickly switching clothes and settling into it with a satisfied smile. The scent of him—clean, familiar, and comforting—immediately enveloped you, making you feel like he was right there with you again.

Which was true anyways.

“Better?” Ollie asked, his arms crossed.

You nodded, grinning. “Much.”

He smiled and walked toward you, pulling you into his arms and settling down next to you on the bed. His chest felt warm against your back, his arms wrapping tightly around you.

As the night wore on, you both laid there, exchanging quiet words and soft laughter, letting the hours slip by as you relished the quiet moments together. And in his arms, with the scent of him surrounding you, you felt like you were exactly where you belonged.

Ollie’s voice broke the comfortable silence. “Seeing you in the kitchen tonight just…” He trailed off, his hand idly tracing patterns on your back.

“Just what?” You murmured, turning your head to glance up at him.

“Just made me happy,” he said simply, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Like, I can’t wait to come home to that every single day.”

Your brows rose, but you couldn’t stop the grin spreading across your face. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” He said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His eyes locked with yours, a flicker of something deep and certain shining in them. “When you and I are married. Living a life together.”

A warm rush spread through you at his words, your heart racing yet calm all at once. “Ollie Bearman, are you proposing to me in your bed right now?” you teased.

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating against your cheek where it rested on his chest. “Not officially. You’ll know when I am. But it’s gonna happen.”

“You seem so sure,” You said, though you already knew your answer if—when—that day came.

“Of course I’m sure,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got it all planned out. We’ll live somewhere cozy. Nothing too fancy, just big enough for us and maybe a couple of kids running around.”

“Kids?” You repeated with a chuckle, raising a brow.

“Yeah,” he said, his hand stilling on your back as he thought about it. “Two, maybe three. What do you think?”

“I think med school might make that a little tricky,” You said, smiling at him.

“Well, you’ll finish med school first,” He said matter-of-factly, as if he’d already worked it all out. “We’ll make it work. I’ll travel less when we’re ready for all that, and you’ll have your dream job.”

You stared up at him, overwhelmed by the ease with which he spoke about the future—a future with you. “What if I want four kids?” You teased, testing him.

He chuckled, his grip tightening slightly. “If you want four, we’ll have four. Two mini versions of you, two mini versions of me.” He laughed softly, the sound low and warm.

You grinned, looking up at him. “You’d be the best dad,”

His gaze softened, his thumb gently stroking your hip. “And you’d be the most gentle mother,” he said with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

You smiled, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw. “Our daughters with your fluffy brown hair and sweet little smile,” you murmured.

“And our sons with your eyes and your cute nose that I love so much,” he added, his voice warm with affection as his hand cupped your cheek.

A light laugh escaped you. “Are we putting them into racing?”

“Of course,” he said, his tone playful but resolute. “That’s not even a question.”

“What if they don’t want to race?” you asked, raising a teasing brow.

“Then we’ll support whatever they want to do,” Ollie said, brushing his lips against your forehead. “But come on, imagine it—“ He paused.

“I’ll retire after winning my fifth World Drivers’ Championship,” Ollie said with a sly grin.

“Fifth?” You repeated, raising your head to look at him, your brow quirking.

“Are you doubting me?” He asked, feigning offense.

“Maybe…” you teased, trying to hold back your laughter.

Ollie narrowed his eyes at you, his lips twitching. “Think you’re funny?”

“I am a bit funny,” You replied with a grin, unable to resist.

He let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. “I don’t know how I put up with you.”

You snorted, nudging him lightly. “Please, you’d miss me if I wasn’t here to keep you humble.”

“Humble? Me?” He laughed. “I’m a five-time champion in this scenario—there’s no humbling that.”

“Oh, whatever.” You scoffed.

The two of you fell into a comfortable quiet again, your hands lacing together as you lay against him.

Ollie grinned as he leaned back against the pillows, his arms wrapped securely around you. “And although you’ll be working away at a hospital most of the time, the times you do decide to show up to my races…” He trailed off with a teasing smirk.

“What about them?” You asked, tilting your head curiously.

“That’s when fans will go absolutely nuts,” he said confidently. “Everyone’s favorite doctor wag, walking through the paddock with this aura—like you belong there, like you run the place.”

You laughed, nudging him gently in the chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“No, I’m serious!” Ollie protested, catching your hand and lacing his fingers with yours. “They’ll talk about how good I treat you, how I’m completely obsessed with you. And they’ll love how effortlessly gorgeous and brilliant you are. I mean, come on—my wife, saving lives and still showing up to support me?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Sounds like you’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Of course, I have,” He said with a grin. “Imagine: You in my team colors, maybe holding a little hand of one of our kids in the paddock. Everyone will lose it.”

Your heart warmed at the thought, but you shook your head with a laugh. “You’re living in a fantasy. I’m not exactly going to be a regular in the paddock.”

“And this fantasy will be my reality,” He admitted, his voice softening. “When you do show up, it’ll be like the sun came out just for me. Lighting up the entire paddock, just like you do everywhere you go.”

You blushed, feeling your chest tighten at the sincerity in his voice. “Such a way with words.”

“Only when it comes to you,” Ollie said, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“And I really mean it. I can’t wait to come home to you every day. To have all of this—our little family, our home.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling. “Me neither,” you whispered.

You laughed, the sound muffled against his chest, and the two of you fell into a rhythm of imagining your future together.

“Hm, but what about the wedding?” You asked, turning so you could see him better.

Ollie grinned. “Big. Really big. I want all our family and friends there.”

“Big sounds good,” You agreed. “But we’re talking classic, right? Elegant, maybe outdoors somewhere beautiful—”

“—like the countryside,” He interrupted from too much excitement. “Rolling hills, lots of greenery, a massive tent with lights everywhere.”

“And a live band,” You added.

“Good food too,” He said quickly.

“Obviously,” You laughed. “We’re not letting anyone leave hungry.”

He nodded, his grin softening into something more sincere. “I just want it to be the best day of your life.”

“Our life,” You corrected, reaching up to brush a stray eyelash from his cheek.

“Our life,” He repeated.

You tilted your head to the side with a playful smile. "Well, make a wish!" You said softly, presenting your finger with the little eyelash.

Ollie looked at you, the corners of his lips curving into a grin. “Hmmm…” He paused, closing his eyes as if he were deep in thought. “I already have everything I’ve ever wished for.”

You scoffed softly, the playful tone of his voice making you laugh. “Well, too bad. You still have to make a wish.”

He chuckled at your insistence, but there was a twinkle in his eyes as he thought about it. Finally, his eyes fluttered closed again, and he spoke with a touch of playfulness. “Okay… I wish to marry the girl right beside me one day.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and a soft sigh escaped your lips as you stared at him. His grin grew as he blew the eyelash off your finger, and for a moment, everything felt perfect, suspended in that sweet, quiet exchange.

You couldn’t help but smile softly, a little teasing gleam in your eye. “Okay, but you said it out loud, now it’s not coming true…” You gave a playful scoff, your voice light with amusement, but your heart fluttered in your chest.

Ollie’s arms tightened around you, and his gaze softened as he pulled you closer. “Nope. It’s coming true,” he said, his voice low and serious despite the playful words. “I’m not losing this under my watch.”

His words made your breath catch in your throat, and you pulled him closer, if that was even possible. In that simple moment, you realized just how much you meant to each other—how all the little things, like a stray eyelash and a wish, tied you even closer together.

“You’re my person forever,” You whispered, the thought clear and undeniable in your heart.

“And you were always mine from the start,” He murmured in return, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he held you.

And it wasn’t just a promise.

It was a certainty.

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tags! @pedriache @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress @iovepoem @piastri-fvx

[frostyresolve]

walk the plank ꒰ ᝬ brant

he’s never one to back down from a dare, even if it means diving into the sea. 1k words. humor, teasing.

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧

you had merely said it as a joke, but you should have known that BRANT was never the kind to back down from a challenge, no matter how outlandish the dare was. so you find yourself practically on edge as he tips his hat to you, balancing precariously on the creaking wooden plank while he prepares to plunge into the sea. he’d do a twirl like a vitreum dancer if he were lighter on his feet.

he had stood up abruptly, a dramatic flourish in his movements paired with the impish grin on his face. "you drive a hard bargain, my dear. very well! i shall walk the plank!"

it didn’t help either that his ears were flushed pink, a sign of his slight intoxication from a few cocktails too many. he shoots you an impish grin that doesn’t really subside the rising panic bubbling in your chest, clearly regretting the words you had said out of playful teasing moments before. but some part of you does want to see if he would really go through with it; he was never one to back out on his promises after all. was it too late to tell him to stop? would doing that mean that you truly were in denial about how you felt towards your captain?

the moon casts a soft silvery glow upon the ship, creating shadows dancing across the deck as the wind rustles through the sails. the sea is dark and roiling beneath him; the water is a stark contrast to the night sky. looking back at you, he relishes in the disbelief perpetually etched into your face. “happy now?”

BRANT lets out a hearty laugh, his eyes fixed on the way you bite your lip anxiously. "you look nervous. don’t tell me you're afraid i’ll get wet?"

he leans forward slightly, testing the plank's stability. it creaks alarmingly, much to your dismay, causing you to wince, but thankfully it holds firm under him. "no need to fret... i’m a capable swimmer." he reassures you with a wink shot in your direction, a cocky air to his lopsided smirk.

the wind picks up, whipping at his clothes and hair. the spray of seawater hits his face, dampening his hair and adding to his dishevelled appearance as if the alcohol had already done its job already. “i must say, the view from up here is quite something! perhaps i should make this a new tradition, a pre-performance ritual, perhaps?”

you bite back a witty retort, getting up from your seat and taking measured steps towards him as if you were approaching a cornered animal, heart racing in your chest.

“yeah, yeah. you proved yourself. you’re actually going to fall in, if you’re not already aware.” you’re failing miserably to hide the panic and worry seeping through the edges of your facade, your tone rising slightly in pitch as he merely smiles back at you as if he weren’t teetering off the plank. curse him and his confidence.

he lets out a hearty laugh, his gaze locked onto yours. "ah, so worried about me, are you?"

"but i can’t just half do your dare, now can i? what kind of captain would i be if i didn't follow through on my word?" BRANT clicks his tongue, continuing his sentence while he continues to walk backwards, each creak of wood with every step of his foot causing you to flinch.

you gasp, your hand flying to your mouth when his left foot hovers over the sea, the plank dipping under his weight. he throws you another one of his signature cocky beams. you’re not sure whether you should be torn between hating or loving that look right now. “you did say walk the plank. you never specified i had to stay on it, now did you.”

“i take it back; i want you off. get off the plank now, please?” reaching out your hand to him, trying to still your racing heart and the rush of nerves flooding through your system at the sight of him, one step away from diving.

“as you command, honorary captain.” it’s only when you realise the meaning he’s interpreted with your words that your feet carry you to the edge of the ship, tasting salt carried from the sea breeze kissing your cheeks.

he bows, taking his hat off before he tips backward, a shocked cry leaving your lips in horror.

“no, wait—“

it’s silent except for the occasional caw of a seagull, the waves brushing against the rocks below, and the thumping of your heart like a drum ringing in your ears. one foot in front of the other, you inch yourself cautiously onto the plank, taking a deep breath as you look down at the wuthering waves.

his fingers are curled into the wood as he pulls himself up, feet swinging like this were child’s play. BRANT cocks his head to the side, his gaze never leaving yours, his elbows resting on the plank and his palms cupping his cheek as his lower body sways from side to side.

“so you do care.” he teases you, your mouth parting as you splutter at the sight of him. “i…did not. your eyes are just playing tricks on you; perhaps that swim ought to have done you some good.”

cursing under your breath, you don’t look at him, anything but the hint of mockery in his eye. “you know the rules, darling. i went along with your dare, so now allow me to have the honour of picking yours.” his voice takes a lower tone like he’s whispering a secret meant for nobody’s ears but yours. curious, you approach him, now standing on the plank yourself.

“how bout…a kiss for your dear captain? i promise i won’t bite, unless you'd prefer me to. you might find yourself enjoying it, after all." the worry you feel for him is quickly replaced with a hint of amusement and irritation, your lips thinning at his suggestion.

letting out a scoff, you push him into the sea. not before he drags you down with him, the both of you plummeting into the water below. your shrieks are a symphony to his ears, his laughter the last thing you hear before you crash into the sea with his arms around you.

© FROSTYRESOLVE 2025. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REUPLOAD OR FEED MY WORKS INTO AI

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Sanji making a soup when you're not feeling well...

A recent scuffle with Buggy’s Pirates resulted in you being head-butted by the clown captain when you tried to help Luffy. The half-baked plan worked but the force had you seeing stars for a few days which is why you opted to stay back from this trip to the local village.

As you hurried to the deck to bid the crew goodbye, you bumped into the blonde-cook who chuckled and held you steady by the arms.

“Remember to keep off of your feet while we’re out, okay?” He reminded. “We can’t have you taking any more hits for us.”

He flashed you a wink and followed Usopp and Nami down the boardwalk just as Zoro approached and sighed. “If he comes back with another pan, I’m throwing his knives overboard.”

And then you were left with Luffy who was beaming with a bright smile and harping on about something positive. Suddenly, you found yourself staring at the captain's wide brown eyes under the straw hat. His mouth moved but you couldn't understand a word. A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over and drowned you in darkness.

When you came back around, it was in your cabin. The ship was absent of noise except for a pleasant scent in the air. You couldn’t remember much except the a hazy memory of Zoro’s green hair descending the wooden platform.

With some effort you stretched your muscles and slowly sat up before swinging your legs over the edge. Pushing off the bed, your feet hit the cold hardwood floors. Adjusting your balance to remain steady and then began making your way towards the source of the delicious fragrance.

You walked into the kitchen of the Going Merry and saw Sanji by the counter staring into a mixing bowl and whisking furiously.

“What's cooking chef?” You jest lightly, stepping into the room.

Sanji’s mouth-dropped when his eyes landed on you. He placed the bowl on the counter almost immediately and rushed over to where you stood.

“You’re awake.” He took your hands and quickly guided you to a seat. “You shouldn’t be on your feet, here sit.”

Thanking him, you looked around the space. “Where is everyone? What happened?”

Sanji gazed at you lovingly for a few seconds before composing himself with a deep breath. “Well, first of all, you passed out. We brought you back inside and I volunteered to keep an eye on you.”

You noticed several prepared dishes lined up on the counter with another bubbling away. “And what’s all this about?”

Sanji dipped his head bashfully and smiled. “Turns out I’m not overly patient. So the only thing I could do to channel my worry was cook.” He confessed and tilted his head to the simmering pot.

Leaning forward, you craned your neck to take a peek inside and got another whiff of its aroma. “Smells amazing.”

Beaming with pride, Sanji walked around the bench and dipped a ladle into the soup, mixing it once more. He picked up a bowl and poured in a decent amount before returning to you.

With a smaller spoon, he scooped the broth and blew on it gently before offering it to you. Shuffling closer, you opened your mouth and let him feed the savoury dish.

It was an explosion of flavour better than any soup you had tasted before. How had Zeff been ignoring this for years?

“Final thoughts?” Sanji wondered curiously as you swallowed.

You shook your head and then laughed a little. “How often do I need to be knocked in the head by a clown for you to make this?”

This earned you a bright laugh from the cook. “Never again. I’ll make this whenever you feel like it. You only have to ask.”

~ More imagines here ~

A/n: Do I have more of these? Yes, I do.