#x indian!reader

[itsprashimusic]

Wildest Dreams Warm Realities

"Standin' in a nice dress"

Summary - You thought seeing him on the train was the last time you would but turns out, that Goa really is as small as some might say.

Pairings - Charles Leclerc x indian!fem!Reader

Warnings - reader likes to dance, curse words, reader can dance, y/n used i’m sorry, one of the outfits has a slit and another is off-shoulder, lmk if there’s anything else. Happy reading🩵

W/C - 2.9k

A/N - happy birthday to my first love<3 this gave me the motivation to finish a pt2 that has been in the works since march. if i bore you with my description of the dance, please feel free to let me know, but again be respectful.

Navigation | "Say you'll remember me" | "Standin' in a nice dress" | "Starin' at the sunset" | ..babe"

The first four days of doing absolutely nothing in Goa felt amazing. Waking up late had never felt so good. The sun was warm but not overbearingly hot. And the cool winds in the evening provided the perfect opportunity for wearing those long cotton skirts plastered all over your beach moodboard. 

You had nearly forgotten about the Monegasque you met on the train. Nearly. It was a quiet evening before a long next day when you remembered the cute foreigner. It was a unanimous decision to go to the beach where most of your friends dipped their feet in the rising tide while you and another friend sat and enjoyed the sunset. Reminiscing about the mysterious driver made you want to talk about him more to your best friend, Sarah, but after coming to the beach, she got lost in a crowd of people. She texted you saying she met someone and was having an interesting conversation. You wished that you were the person she was having a conversation with instead of a stranger she just met.

You soon forgot about Charles just as quickly though when your group called you and the other girl to the water. You got up and ran towards the incoming waves, hair being blown back by the salty winds. 

The next day you got up extremely early. The wedding was at nine in the morning, for some reason. 

The dress code was traditional Indian wear, and since you were the only one who could do it, you became the dedicated saree draper. You barely had an hour for yourself to get ready. By some miracle, your makeup, hair, saree and jewellery were ready in time. 

The wedding was beautiful. The first half of the wedding took place in a temple in the south of Goa. 8:30 in the morning you and all of your friends were surprisingly ready and sitting in the two cars and driving to the temple. Reaching just about on time, you saw that most of the venue was empty. You mentally face-palmed yourself. The group found a table and settled there, all the purses and water bottles were left on the chairs surrounding the table. 

About half an hour later the wedding party arrived along with the pandit and the families of the bride and groom. A few of the bride’s relatives were going around and handing the women long, fresh gajras. Sarah carried a bunch of booby pins with her, and helped all the women in the group, including you, with pinning the gajra to their hair. Some left their hair open while others had an updo. You had styled your hair in a way you knew would look good no matter what. 

The wedding continued. There wasn’t much that happened. Rituals were conducted, poojas were repeated and everyone was sweating horribly due to the humidity. The only thing keeping you from smelling like a pig was the powerful fragrance of the gajra. By around 12:30 pm, the wedding was more or less done. Your group scurried to be among the first to greet the newlywed couple and give the gifts. Everyone was hungry, and since there was going to be an evening extension of the wedding, no one really bothered to say ‘congratulations.’ The group gave their gifts, took 2 photos and left in a hurry to grab chorizo sandwiches from a cafe across the street. 

Thankfully in the evening, the dress code was not as strict. Meaning, that the grandparents and family elders were not there, allowing the newlywed’s friends and younger family members to wear western clothes. But you did not know this when you packed. All you had was traditional party wear.

“Konse kapde hai tere paas?” you asked as you walked into your shared room with Sarah. The girl just looked up from her phone with a confused expression. “Kya?” 

“Mere paas aaj shaam ke liye kapde nahi hai,” you complained as you started looking through her suitcase trying to find a dress you liked. 

“Woh blue off-shoulder wala dress hai, pehenle.” she dismissed you and went back to texting on her phone. 

You knew exactly what dress she was talking about and promptly found it. It was a baby blue off-the-shoulder dress with beautiful white flowers all over it and a tie-up in the front. You put the dress on, sat under the fan and began redoing your makeup for the evening. Your hair was behaving, so all you had to do was fluff it with your hands. Small butterfly earrings, a matching white butterfly-studded choker and a modern kada with the same butterfly decorating it; this was a jewellery set you were gifted on your birthday by Sarah herself. You thought that this was the perfect occasion to wear it. You had white heels to match along with a sling bag. 

Using your shoes as an excuse, you managed to convince one of the guys to drive instead. It was an hour before sunset when your car reached its destination. It was a lovely open area with a dance floor near the sea. You could hear the waves crash against the land as you walked to the entrance. The first thing that your entire group did was to go up to the couple, who were good friends of yours, to congratulate them and take photos. The next stop was the snack counter for a little energy boost before the dancefloor opened up. 

The newlyweds had their first dance to a very sweet song. Just as the song ended, the DJ switched it up to more upbeat tunes which got the entire crowd dancing. While you were dancing you saw and met many people who you had not seen in years, including some of your old school friends, a few of them complimented your jewellery. There was this one guy you had a crush on during your school years who revealed he also liked you at that time. Some old classmates admitted to not liking you at all. Basically, within the first 45 minutes of dancing you wished you were back in your room. But then a different song started playing and you coupled up with Sarah as the MC wanted people to find a partner. You did a funny version of the macarena. You did some line dances followed by some jiving music. 

It had been two hours of dancing, two hours of hearing different bollywood songs, maria pitache 3 different times, some punjabi and tamil songs, and english bops like shape of you and baby. You were sweating horribly by then and wanted to go get a seat right when you heard the iconic ‘pretty lady, pretty lady, pretty lady’ and took a u-turn back to the dance floor. 

Just as the song reached the line ‘bareli ke bazaar mein’, you stretched your arm out and turned. You felt your arm lightly hitting someone. When you went to pull your arm back, instead, you got tugged and ended up colliding with someone. Apologies started to pour out of you, as best they could over the loud music. Your butterfly kada got caught on a piece of a chain that was stitched to the man’s kurta. The bridge of the song was playing in the background as you looked up and saw that very face you were dreaming about at night during the past four days. 

To say that Charles was surprised when he saw you was an understatement. His left hand was on your wrist, and the other was held by his stomach. You both kept looking at each other and back down at where the pair of you were connected. The song shifted to the intro of Hookah Bar. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked. 

“Me?! What the hell are you doing here?” 

You both just kept staring at each other, your eyes seeming to be in a fight, trying to determine who has to answer the question first. You got fed up first and pushed your way out of the dancing crowd, Charles having no option but to be dragged by you and your butterfly kada. 

You reached a more quiet corner when you said, “I was invited to this afterparty. The bride and groom are my school friends whom I haven’t met in a few years. Your turn.”

He took a breath in before answering, “My brother said that he knew an authentic Indian party we could attend and my family trusted him.”

You bore a look of bewilderment on your face. “You know what, I am gonna ignore what you just said. I am happy to see you here, regardless of why you ended up here.” Charles breathed out a happy sigh and smiled. God, his smile was even better than you remember it. You moved to give him a hug when you were reminded that your kada was still stuck to his kurta. Damn, he looks good in Indian clothes, the colour goes really well with his ey- 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of Charles’ warm hands over yours, carefully untangling the chain from the butterfly. Your hand was finally by your side and you were smiling widely at him when he pulled you in for a hug. 

The hug felt nice. It was not common for you to be hugged by a guy, so it felt nice. At that moment your mind flashed back to the ���relationship’ you had in school where you fell for the attractive guy in your class who turned out to be an asshole who was openly dating someone else. It is not really that deep, but it made you think whether you were going to make that same mistake again because Charles is extremely attractive. And whether it was going to be an even bigger deal because you are no longer 14 years old, but an adult with a job and big girl responsibilities. 

Charles was the one to break the hug. Pulling back, he saw the look of doubt on your face. “Y/n are you alright?” he asked. You nodded while taking in a large breath. “Have you had dinner yet?” you say trying to change the conversation. “No, I have not. But I am excited to try the local food.” 

You told him to come with you. Taking the brunette to the Goan dinner counter you showed him all the different foods and explained what the food was made of. You took some of your favourite foods that you spotted. He ended up with rice, fish curry, prawns, crab legs and a bowl of dahi you secretly took just in case. 5 bites in and he was trying his very best to hide from you just how much he was feeling the spice. You laughed and took pity on him, “Here, this will help” you said while passing him the bowl of cold dahi. He managed a ‘thankyou’ in between coughs due to the spice and finished about half the bowl. 

In between your small talk with Charles, the MC came up to you and whispered in your ear. The Monegasque looked confused but didn’t question you. “Are any of your family members around? I need to go somewhere, and I don’t want to leave you alone.” Charles replied that he could call his brother. With that confirmation, you gave him your bowl of dahi and left, passing by his brother whom you greeted. Little did Charles know that you were heading to a changing room with hired anarkalis and ghagra cholis. 

About 10 minutes later, the stage where the couple were previously seated began filling up with smoke as the MC gave a monologue. The beginning of a song started playing just when he finished speaking. All of a sudden the lights went off as the sound of lightning played, leaving chills all over the guests' arms, legs and necks. The lights come on and there stood on the stage are women from your school and college who were known for their dancing skills, you standing front and centre.  

All that could be seen were the silhouettes of all the ladies. The music began, and the sound of a woman singing in a high pitch was heard loudly on the speakers. You were mouthing the words Shreya Ghoshal sang. As the upbeat tune of ‘Radha’ began, each woman stepped forward and gave a step in time with the music and lyrics. The crowd was loudly cheering everyone on. Charles was mesmerized watching you. He didn’t know you could dance. But now that he saw you dancing, he never wanted to take his eyes off of you. Never wanted you to stop moving your body in that rhythmic, captivating way. 

With the addition of the best man and the groomsmen on stage, the crowd went wild. They were all great dancers back in college, not losing touch with that side of them. The best man was your dance partner when it came to competitions and events. You guys were shipped together, but he was already dating his now wife back then. And just like back then, he joined you front and centre, not missing a single beat when doing your old handshake. 

The way he stood behind you and let his hand fall from your ear during the line ‘o radha tera jhumka’ and the way his hand hovered (at an appropriate distance) over your hip during the line ‘o radha tera thumka’ and the way he followed behind you like a puppy, holding your dupatta during the line ‘o peeche peeche saari nagariyaan’, it got Charles feeling some type of way. He’s only met you one time before, why is he feeling like this? And that dude is married for fuck’s sake! WHY IS HE FEELING JEALOUS?!!??!

The last line of the chorus played and as the men twirled and stood behind the women, came the first line of one of the sexiest songs alive. ‘Main ruthiya yaar manawangi…’ The lights dimmed, the focus was again mainly on you and the crowd shrieked so loud Charles thought his eardrum might break. Part of the costume came off, showing off more skin and allowing for easier and more movement. 

Your legs showed through the slit as you bent your knees sideways and tend stood back up, leaving the Monegasque’s eyes bulging and mouth open while the crowd wolf-whistles. 

‘Mere maahiya sanam jaanam’ had the crowd going insane as your shiny waist chain blinged underneath the expensive lights and made the party feel 10 times hotter. 

Charles swore in French, a word he doesn’t use often but which was almost too fitting for this moment. 

The hair flips, the arm movements, the rolling on the ground and the structure of your leg which was on full display when you stood up, all this was more than enough to hypnotise the driver. He was in a trance, under a spell, fixated on you and only you, his dahi a lukewarm forgotten bowl. 

‘Dariya dariya mere yaara’, the lights flashed everywhere, temporarily blinding everyone. But the sight that was waiting for them would definitely be worth it. For those 3 seconds where no one could see the stage, everyone’s position changed. You were kneeling on the best man’s shoulders, while he was standing up straight. You’re friends who were also watching and cheering you on lost it, along with the guests. Even though Sarah had seen most of the practice, she hadn’t seen this part, and it shocked her. She took a video of the entire song to show you later.

‘Akhiyan de mohalle mein, har shaam tera aalam’ The body rolls and hip sways broke Charles. He understood zero of what the song said, but the vibe of everything was more than enough to make it feel as if his entire body was on fire. The way you gripped onto the best man’s hair to avoid falling had him falling hard for you. 

You allowed yourself to fall face first but caught yourself with your hands and proceeded to do a front-facing cartwheel, landing a mere 10 cm from the edge of the stage. Now kneeling you completed the remaining steps of the song before it changed into another. As the song changed, all the women were lying back on their hands and were then dragged away backwards by the men, who were performing next. 

Once exiting the stage you stayed near the stage to watch the rest of the performance. The guests were filled with life, the energy only increasing. About 20 minutes later when the performance was done, all the dancers from all the different dances went up on the stage, music never stopping. You, the best man, the bridegroom and a few of the other main dancers were standing in the centre. ‘Mauja Hi Mauja’ played as everyone did the hookstep. 

Charles managed to catch your eye in the middle of it all. You both maintained eye contact. It broke when you were pulled down by the bride for a photo. Once the whole show was done, you got off the stage with the objective of finding Charles. But he was nowhere to be found. You came to the conclusion that he probably left since it was quite late. You and your friends were nowhere near done with partying since that was the point of coming to Goa. This was one hell of a Christmas Eve. 

A/N - Please bully me into writing and posting the remaining parts before this year ends🙏🏽 Hope you enjoyed reading🩷

Tags - @blue-eyed-mary | @sam-is-lost | @juleswrites223 | @kawaiiixchan | @holy-macncheese-balls | @rhythmstars | @nerdreader | @speedycycletyrant |

[talesof-old]

james potter is 100% a munch

you’re so right 😭 i’m absolutely feral for this man

pairing(s): james potter x fem!reader

warning(s): 18+, smut, oral sex (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, i think that’s it

word count: 305

masterlist

If there’s one thing that James Potter could do all day, it was this.

James lapped away at your cunt, lewd noises echoing around the otherwise empty room. Your hands were fisted in his thick black hair, tugging this way and that, groans accompanying any particular forceful pull.

One of his hands gently stroked at your lower lips, keeping everything parted just the way he liked so he could have full access. His tongue speared into your cunt in time with the friction of his nose against your clit. You whined, hips bucking against his face. What could only be described at a puddle had formed beneath you by this point. You weren’t even sure you could cum again.

Your thighs trembled, threatening to close around James’ head for the umpteenth time. The muscles of your stomach clenched, your orgasm hitting you before you could stop it. Stars exploded across your vision. James’ nose bumped along your clit as his tongue dipped in and out of your cunt.

“James-“ You gasped.

Your body shook with sensitivity. Time melted away; you weren’t even sure how many times you’d climaxed at this point.

He hummed, the vibrations sending aftershocks through your body. You cried out. James pulled away with a grin, face shiny with your slick, and smacked a loud kiss to your inner thigh.

“That’s it, sweets.” His fingers trailed over your bare skin, your body shiny with sweat. You attempted to inhale, but your lungs stuttered instead. James face twisted into some half-sympathetic expression—you could practically feel the smugness radiating off of him.

“You good, sweetheart? Need any help with that?” You rolled your eyes, chest heaving as you weakly batted him away. “You’re a menace, Potter.” He chuckled, the sound full and warm as he pushed himself up to cuddle against you. “But I’m your menace.”

+++

[lateatnewyork]

COLONIZING AT ITS FINEST! 001

pairing: oscar piastri x indian!female!kohli!reader

summary: the indian women's cricket team is in australia the same time as the grid for their ODI tournament. and a certain rookie driver and a rookie cricketer fall for each other.

extra information: reader is kohli's younger sister and is 21, oscar wins the melbourne gp. reader went to a british boarding school so she knows like lando.

ynkohli

liked by BCCIWomens, ishankishan and 547,890 others me n the gang 💯renukasingh (virat's memes are top tier) view comments

viratkohli is that the only photo you could find ➥ ynkohli yeppers landonorris get into finals so i can watch 😞 ➥ ynkohli thats the plan user01 what's lando doing here ➥ ynsno1 yn went to a british boarding school and she met lando in britain when she was out. shes also a huge fan of f1 anushkasharma get the cup !! ➥ ynkohli will do 🫶 user54 why is she so famous compared to other cricketers? /genq ➥ user67 she was an influencer during her teenage years and everybody loved her cos shes rlly funny and shes also virat kohli's sister. mclaren 🏏👀 ➥ ynlover yo wtf ➥ user6 erm what ➥ user08 um renukasingh we ate those photos up ➥ ynkohli realsies!

mclaren

liked by ynkohli, oscarpiastri and 245,765 others i got two tickets to melbourne gp babyy view comments

ynkohli give them to me plsss 🙏 ➥ mclaren bet ➥ user05 IS SHE DATING SOMEONE ON THE GRID ➥ user49 not necessarily shes been a fan since she was a kid danielriccardo COME WITH ME SUNDAY DONT SAY MAYBE ➥ user67 going along with the caption is so him 😭🫶 maxverstappen watch me win... again ➥ lewishamilton hes a bit overconfident? ➥ landonorris ^ ➥ fernandoalonso ^ ➥ georgerussell ^ ➥ charlesleclerc ^ ➥ carlossainz55 ^ ➥ schecoperez ^ ➥ averagef1lover not the whole grid coming after max 😭 ➥ rbrmylove ok but is he wrong ➥ user07 if oscar doesn't win im gonna kms ➥ oscarpiastri dont do that 😓 ➥ user07 HOLY SHIT IM GONNA DIE WTF user03 this is a day after the odi finals 😭 if yn loses shes going to be so sad at the gp

BCCIWomens

liked by oscarpiastri, viratkohli and 350,905 little y/n kohli appreciation post because INDIA IS IN THE FINALS !!!! view comments

user09 what is oscar doing here ➥ ynsno1fan forrealsies user98 SHE DESERVES THIS SM ➥ user05 FR BRO user48 IM SO HAPPY

oscarpiastri

liked by viratkohli, landonorris and 463,218 others little gf appreciation post 💗 view comments

user58 OSCAR SOFT LAUNCHING WAS NOT ON MY 2024 BINGO CARD ➥ user48 SAME cricketlover whats virat doing here? ➥ user52 idk bro f1lover GUYS WHAT IF ITS YN KOHLI ➥ rbrmylove who?? ➥ f1lover shes an indian cricketer ➥ lestappenshipper BRO AND THE BCCI ACCOUNT POSTED AN APPRECIATION FOR YN AND OSCAR LIKED ➥ sixerhitter AND THE CAPTION ON THIS ONE logansargeant youre not slick ➥ oscarpiastri shut up ➥ averagef1fan LOGAN TELL US (ill give u three bucks) ➥ logansargeant I CANT (make it 300 and u have a deal) ➥ averagef1fan logan im broke ➥ logansargeant well too bad then user05 they look so happy in the last photo landonorris yk what big feet mean😉 ➥ oscarpiastri LANDO ➥ danielriccardo LANDO ➥ carlossainz55 LANDO ➥ maxverstappen LANDO ➥ fernandoalonso LANDO ➥ lewishamilton LANDO mclarenfan polite cat has rizz confirmed???

ynkohli

liked by danielriccardo, smrithimandhana and 506,472 others your honor, i love him. view comments

rohitsharma what 😀 ➥ishankishan 😀 ➥viratkohli 😀 ➥hardikpandya 😀 ➥jaspritbumrah 😀 ➥shubmangill 😀 ➥sachintendulkar 😀 ➥rahuldravid 😀 alexanderasaintmleux you both are so cutee ➥ ynkohli nuh uh u r lilymhe ur so adorable ➥ ynkohli stop ily averagef1lover um what are the wags doing here? ➥ user05 i think shes dating oscar piastri cricketlover whos oscar piastri? ynloml NO WAY SHES TAKEN WHAT

f1wagupdates

liked by alexanderasaintmleux, lilymhe and 209,879 others new wag??? oscar piastri spotted in a park with a girl view comments

averagef1lover thats so yn cricketlover yn and oscar?? user05 CRICKET AND F1 CROSSOVER??????? ynlover my two worlds colliding user06 if it was yn tho theyd be so cute f1fan THE WAY HES LYING IN HER LAP ➥ user49 THE WAY HIS HAND WENT LIMP WHEN THEY KISSED ➥ lestappenshipper SKSKSKKSKSK

BCCIWomens

liked by ynkohli, landonorris and 738,952 others THE INDIAN WOMENS TEAM ARE NOW ODI CHAMPIONS!!! view comments

cricketlover WOOHOOOO averagef1lover IDEC IF SHES A WAG OR NOT I LOVE YN ynloml shes so fine 🤭 lestappenshipper theres no way oscar 'polite cat' piastri has the yn kohli rohitsharma 🥳 shahrukhkhan 🥳 arshdeepkaur 🥳 sachintendulkar 🥳 renukasingh 🥳 anushkasharma 🥳 ritikasajdeh 🥳 sanjenaganasen 🥳 saratendulkar 🥳 landonorris IM SO PROUD OF YOU YN

ynkohli

liked by oscarpiastri, suhanakhan and 834,271 others colonized the colonizer ! oscarpiastri comments are disabled

oscarpiastri

liked by ynkohli, logansargeant and 506,783 others i love being colonized 😍 comments are disabled

a/n IM SO SORRY FOR BEING MIA FOR SO LONG GUYS I HAD THE WORST WRITERS BLOCK 😭 this is written for the sole purposes of entertaining me i havent seen and oscar piastri x brown reader anywhere so hopefully you guys like this !!

[forza55]

Sebastian Vettel Driving Senna's Historic 1993 Mclaren MP 4/8 2024 vs Sebastian Vettel F1 2013 Indian GP

[kentosmirrorball]

{SMAU}: jjk men celebrating diwali with indian!reader !

{warnings}: reader is referred to as ‘girl’, ‘ma’am’, petnames (baby, honey, sweetheart), lots of fluff <3

includes: gojo, geto, nanami.

gojo:

geto:

nanami:

this was so long overdue 😭 anyways, Happy Diwali, y’all! 🪔✨🧨

[gomzdrawfr]

Price on a date (he's a lil nervous)

his fit is based on this

[seonne]

"Your Barbie!"

"Grandpapa! Grandpapa!"

The pitter patter of tiny feet on the wooden floors caused a small smile to form on Masaru's face as he folded up the newspaper he was reading to be greeted by his very smiley and energetic granddaughter. She put up her tiny little arms and made grabby hands at him, successfully melting his heart enough to pick her up and put her on his lap.

"What is it, Erica?"

The 5 year old grinned widely as she leaned on her grandfather's lap.

"Grandpapa! Mumma told me to tell you that- ... that.... um..."

Her voice trailed off as her eyes darted back and forth around the room.

"That.... um...."

Masaru snickered softly.

"Did you forget, sweetheart?-"

"NO! I remember! She told me to tell you that... um..."

She put up her chubby little hand to his face and looked away with a serious frown.

"I can remember it..."

"Yes you can, sweetie. Think harder, I'm sure you'll remember."

The little girl thought for a few more seconds before jumping off her grandpa's lap.

"Wait! I'll be right back!" And she zoomed out of the living room to the backyard. Mere seconds later, she came hurtling back with the biggest grin.

"I remember! Mummy told me to tell you that Papa said he got you barbie ready!"

Masaru raised an eyebrow at her.

"My barbie?"

"Yeah! Your barbie! It smells delicious!"

Masaru looked at Erica and blinked at her before the smell from the backyard reached him.

"Oh you mean barbecue!"

The toddler grinned.

"Yes! Your barbie!"

Masaru chuckled as he picked up Erica and brought her to the backyard.

"Thank you for calling me, Erica."

Her tiny arms wrapped around his neck.

"I love you, grandpapa."

He pressed a kiss to her temple as they stepped outside, where Katsuki, Mitsuki and you were plating up the barbecue you had grilled. He smiled, sighing contentedly.

"I love you too, sweetheart..."

Thank you for reading everybody! Please comment if you liked and let me know if you have any requests. Visibly, I'm quite free right now, so don't leave me jobless please-

Regardless! Any likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated! I've seen many creators say that interactions are very sparse and unmotivating and yes, it's true. So, if you liked it, please do leave a note behind! Makes my day, really.

And follow for more updates!

[emswritings]

Mothers day

Synopsis: James and Harry make a mothers day breakfast for you

Word count: 0.7k

Tags: dad!James x mom!reader, fluff, baby Harry

Authors note: i'm not Indian, but i hc James to be, so lemme know if i got anything wrong, i used google for it

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke up to the sound of laughter and shushing. Smiling, you sit up and begin to get ready for the day. You leave the room and follow the noise into the kitchen. 

“Mummy’s gonna love this!” Harry squeals, jumping up and down. James laughs, and continues making the poha. It originally surprised you how well he cooked, but now the smell of Indian spices is like home. It wouldn't be James without it. 

“I would hope so, it’s her favorite,” James responds, stirring the pan. He loves these kinds of mornings, when he can just spend some one on one time with his son. That's not to say that he doesn't like spending time with you per say, but he loves getting to show him how to make classic Indian food like his father showed him. Some of his fondest memories are in the kitchen, both with his mum and his appa, and even Sirius when he eventually moved in. One of those memories is when he was about Harry’s age, maybe a little bit younger, and he helped his appa make dinner for his mum on mothers day. He remembers being so excited to help that he had accidently burnt himself on the inside of his wrist, and has a scar from it to this day. 

“Hare bare, will you go get me the pepper out of the fridge? The green one,” James asks the five year old. Harry nods and bounces over to the fridge. When he gets back, he hands James the pepper, and laughs as James picks him up, setting him on the counter.

“Now, I need you to stir this for me while I cut up this pepper, can you do that?” James asks, handing Harry the wooden spoon. 

“Yes!” Harry cheers, beginning to stir. That's the sight you walk in on when you get to the kitchen. You smile and watch them a little bit. James turns and puts the peppers in the pan when Harry spots you. You smile and walk over to them, asking, “what’re you two making?” 

James jumps, not hearing you, and turns, pointing an accusatory finger at you, “you're supposed to be in bed right now missy.” This elicits a laugh from Harry, and for you to raise your hands in mock surrender. You smile up at him, and bat your eyelashes dramatically, “will you forgive me Jamie?”

James rolls his eyes fondly, but says, “only if you’ll go back to bed. And Harry has to follow to make sure you won’t try to lurk in the hallway.” 

You nod, and open your arms, “consider it a deal. Now can I get a good morning hug please?” James smiles, and wraps you up in a hug, rocking you side to side a little. Eventually, Harry decides that he needs a hug too, because he hops down from the counter, and wraps his arms around your legs. You laugh, and scoop him up into your arms, enjoying this moment. 

“Alright, now back to bed for you,” James steps back, turning to the oven. You sigh dramatically, but go back to your bedroom with Harry still in your arms. He makes sure you get comfy in bed with a book, then turns around and goes back to help James with breakfast.

Ten minutes later, Harry opens the bedroom door again, and James comes walking in with a tray of food and tea that looks to be for all three of you. You smile, and put the book down on the nightstand, getting ready for them to come cuddle with you. Harry jumps into the bed on one side, and James sits down, much more carefully with the food in his hands on the other. 

Most of the day in your bedroom with your boys, then you move to the playroom, and eventually, your friends all join you in the living room for a mothers day dinner. Once everyone has left, and you’ve put Harry in bed, it’s just you and James in the living room. 

“Thank you James,” you say, smiling at him. He looks up at you from where the magazine he was reading and tilts his head, “For what angel?”

“Just… for everything,” you shrug, “I really appreciate it, and wanted you to know how grateful I am.”

James smiles, and beckons you over to him on the couch. You oblige, and sit down next to him. That's how you two fell asleep, curled up on the couch, no blanket, except for the quidditch magazine on James’s lap. And you wouldn't have traded it in for the world.

[julymusings]

jalebi baby !

or; Dick Grayson and his Indian gf hosting Diwali 🧨☄️🎆

dick grayson x indian!fem!reader, like one euphemism i originally wrote more but it was kinda off-topic so i didn't include it. but if this ends up like...resonating particularly deeply with anyone i'll make another part also never quite got an answer on that friends question... Read Jason's version here !

In the years you’ve been with Dick, he’s celebrated multiple Diwali’s with you. He’s familiar with the customs and practices by now, knows the story behind the holiday, and has space in his closet for the several traditional garments he’s collected over the course of your relationship. But this year is different; this year, you are the hosts.

The day before, you were a mess. Rife with stress and nerves over your first time hosting the family party, an unspoken rite of passage into adult life. He had to basically drag you away from your checklist so he could sit you down and pamper you, massaging coconut oil into your scalp so you could relax. You can’t lie, though, it did help. That, and him being extra generous while washing it out in the shower later. You slept like a baby that night, worries long forgotten.

When the time for the party comes, he’s looking so…

He’s wearing a kurta that perfectly matches the cerulean of his eyes and has a shimmering silver paisley pattern, and he wears it with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows to put his tan, muscled forearms on display. (*Barking*)

Like the gentleman he is, he helps you drape your sari. He presses the pleats flat, secures the pins in place, all with a graceful precision that makes the finished product better than you could ever achieve. He’s pouting the whole time, though, because no matter how much you insist that it’s magenta, it still borders too close to red for his taste.

“It’s magenta, Dick.” “That’s basically red! Why don’t you just wear one that says ‘I Hate Nightwing’ in huge letters?” “Dickie, don’t be ridiculous…you know the pleating would hide the words.”

You thought that was hilarious, but he’s EXTRA pouty after that.

He can’t be mad at you for long, though, not when you’re looking like that. The gold border of your garment, the sparkle of your gold jewelry, and the rosy color against your brown skin with a bindi to match…you’re practically glowing. And if you’re wearing paayals (bell anklets)…that dainty twinkle that follows you when you walk— hold on, he needs a minute. He thinks he’s died and gone to heaven because there’s an angel in front of him.

While you’re spending the whole party running around and looking after everything, he’s looking after you. He’s making sure you take sitting breaks, he’s bringing you water, he’s feeding you while you’re cooking, and taking over the cooking (when you let him) so you can take some time to actually enjoy the party.

For dessert you prepare his favorite (jalebi) but every time you remove one from the pot and place it in the serving dish, two seconds later it’s gone. He tries to pin it on one of your relatives, which results in said relative calling him lode (lode-eh), and you having to sequester him in another room so you can finish cooking.

While you take him on his walk of shame, he asks you what that means and you lovingly reassure him that it’s nothing bad. (It isn’t, technically…I mean it is his name, right?)

I didn't include this in Jason's version but I think while Dick likes jalebi, Jason is a gulab jamun kinda guy

divider from here

[sodacatz]

I'm so down bad for this man it's not even funny

[seonne]

"You look... woah"

For my fellow Bakusimps who wear dresses once in a blue moon, leaving necks cracked and jaws slacked.

You usually don't wear dresses and Bakugou knows that. He knows how dresses make you uncomfortable in one way or another; whether it be too stuffy, too frilly, too restrictive, too revealing, too non-revealing, too party-esque or too granny-style.

He knows if you had to pick between dresses and jeans, you'd go for the latter.

So imagine his surprise when he sees you wearing a dress.

Not only are you wearing a dress, you look like an absolute goddess in it.

You chose a simpler dress, showing off and highlighting your features in the best ways possible. The colour making your skin glow, the seams perfectly hugging your curves and edges, the longer part of the dress trailing behind you as you walk making it seem as if you're elegantly gliding across the room with the poise one would expect of a forest nymph or a princess.

You look ethereal and wide red irises follow your movements as you flit across the room, making sure everything's ready before leaving for your date with him.

You let out a sigh as you stand in the middle of your living room with your hands on your hips, your beautiful hair blowing slightly at the wind seeping in through the open window of the balcony.

"Okay, I think we're all ready to go!"

As you turn, taking one last sweep at everything, a pair of callous hands slide onto your waist that looks so pretty in that dress and you're spun around by your hunk of a boyfriend whose pupils are blown wide as he drinks in your form.

You laugh at his expression.

"What?"

"Nothing, princess, just... you look... woah"

You chuckle as you look up into his pretty eyes.

"I look 'woah'?"

He nods with a smirk.

"You look 'woah'..."

You laugh again as you plant a kiss on his nose.

"Shall we get moving, my 'woah' boyfriend?"

He returns your grin with one of his own as his hand slides into yours, leading you out the door.

"Yeah, let's go, princess. Gonna make everyone at that restaurant drool down their chins."

[itsprashimusic]

Wildest Dreams Warm Realities

"Say you'll remember me"

Summary - A Formula 1 driver is on vacation in Goa with his family. A woman and her friend group are also on a vacation in Goa. Is this destiny?

Pairings - Charles Leclerc x indian!fem!Reader

Warnings - hindi words with english translations at the end, your best friend has a name (Sarah), mention of animals getting harmed, reader has hair. Happy reading🩵

W/C - 2.6k

A/N - the train is from Mumbai to Goa. Let me know if I missed anything.

Navigation | "Say you'll remember me" | "Standin' in a nice dress" | "Starin' at the sunset" | ..babe"

The horn sounded nice and loud, it could be heard by the people who stood on the road outside the station. It indicated that the train was now leaving CSMT and heading to its final destination. You had this trip planned out with your friends since the beginning of the year. All hotel reservations were made and all tickets were booked since this was the busiest time of the year to travel. 

It was the middle of December. You had 3 different invites to 3 different weddings, an invitation to meet one of your good school friends, and a desire for a true Goa trip with your friend group. But all of that was about to go down the drain because you were standing on the platform hearing the train engines start and watching it slowly pull away. You went out to grab some hot samosas for everyone but were now panicking, “Bhaiya jaldi karo, train jaa rahi hai!” you yelled at the poor dude who was trying to hurriedly wrap the piping hot samosas. You got the black thaili, gave him a 200 rupee note, and ran off, “Chhutta rakh lena!” you said over your shoulder. 

This could not be happening. It looked cute in YJHD when Naina was running behind the train, unfortunately you were not Naina. You were running after the train with your hair tied in a weird bun from the morning and were holding onto a black plastic bag with samosas in it, very much the opposite of how she looked. But then you saw it, more accurately, him. He was tall and had fluffy hair, like Bunny. But his hair was brown and he had green eyes, eyes which were filled with concern, eyes that were looking at you. 

This distracted you, but when you realised the train was moving away faster, you started to sprint. Never in your life had you run faster. His one had held onto the railing, while the other was stretched out and gesturing to you. You grabbed onto his outstretched hand and jumped. This is where you mentally prayed that he would catch you, if not, you were surely gonna get jammed in between the train and the platform, get injured, or die on impact. Thankfully he did catch you. When you jumped, he reacted quite fast and pulled you with one hand and caught you by your waist with the other. 

The both of you stood at the door standing incredibly close, breathing and processing what just happened. 

You managed to recover and pulled away from him, his hands dropping from your wrist and waist. However, you did not notice his slightly disappointed face, which he quickly covered up. 

“Thanks for..the help.” you weren’t really sure what to say. He didn’t say anything, he just kept looking at you. You started to worry that he didn’t speak English, right when he replied, “Sure, it was no problem.”

God that accent. He was definitely from Europe, maybe France. But just that one sentence got you craving for more. You wanted to hear him talk, it didn’t matter what the subject was. 

The silence turned awkward, so you mumbled a final ‘thank you’ and ‘see you around’ before entering the first class A/C compartment. 

You and your group of six(excluding you), had booked the train tickets separately. Two of your friends who were dating booked a coupe for themselves, and then gradually everyone else also got their tickets. You were the last to book and ended up in a cabin with 4 berths. You just hoped that whoever you would be sharing a cabin with would not bother you or make you uncomfortable.

You made your way to your friends’ compartment and gave everyone their samosas. By now it was no longer hot, just warm, but it was enjoyed nonetheless. You fell into the lively conversation and temporarily forgot about the brunette with capturing eyes and an alluring accent who saved you from missing a train. Once the clock hit 11 pm, everyone started getting ready for the night. You and your best friend went to brush and wash up for the night while the others got their beds ready. That is when you remember the mystery man. 

Sarah was in the middle of brushing her teeth when you came out of the smelling washroom saying, “I nearly missed the train while getting you guys your food.” 

“Wha id u o?”

“I ran like a mad woman and got saved by a stranger.” the second you finished speaking, she spit the foam out of her mouth, looked up at you, and asked you to elaborate. “Was it a guy?” you gave her a look, “Was he cute??” you gave her a more pronounced look and she started squealing. You had to cover her mouth with your hand. The train staff member who was in the other train car gave you a weird look. 

You just smiled at him and dragged your toothpaste-covered friend into the a/c compartment. You gave her a towel to wipe her mouth with while she whisper-yelled more questions at you. 

“The bhaiya was still wrapping the samosas, the horn went off, the train started leaving and I ran. I saw this guy, this gorgeous guy standing at the door. He held out his hand and I-” you weren’t even able to complete your sentence. ‘You had your DDLJ moment!’ Sarah squealed, jumping up and down with excitement. One thing you were glad to have in your life was Sarah. She was always happy for you, got excited for you, and uplifted you. And that is what she did. It took her five minutes of convincing before she left for her cabin with your 3 other mutual friends. 

You headed back to your cabin, but this time it was not empty. A man and a woman were sitting on the berth below yours. They looked like a couple, foreigners. They looked at you, smiled, gave a nod of their head, and continued their conversation in what you guessed was French. As you shuffled around getting your bed ready another man walks, dressed in sweatpants and a tight-fitting t-shirt. It was the brunette who ‘saved’ you a few hours earlier. 

Not knowing what to do, or if you should say something, you just continued making your bed in the upper berth. You realised that he also was sleeping in the upper berth when he tossed a few items up there. Once you were done, the couple’s talks died down and the woman asked, “Hi, we don’t mean to be a bother but we were wondering if you could just guide us on how to get the beds sorted. We are not exactly sure what to do.” 

The brunette man had left the room, seemingly to make a call. You smiled at the woman, “Oh, no worries.” you gave her your name and she replied, “I’m Charlotte, this is my boyfriend Lorenzo.” You smiled at him and then turned your attention towards Charlotte and began explaining what to do. Both lower berths were done and soon enough the green-eyed man returned. 

Charlotte said something to him in French. They knew each other. She turned to you, “and this is Charles, Enzo’s younger brother.” Even his name sounds regal. Before you could get a word in he said, “We’ve already met.” with a smile that seemed genuine. His brother gave him a questioning look and asked him in French. Charles gave a reply. It was now nearing midnight and you wanted to sleep soon. You were getting off at a station in the north of Goa, meaning you had to wake up early. Before you could head up to your berth, Charlotte asked if you could help Charles with his bed. She thanked you and then pulled her boyfriend out of the cabin and walked away, not really giving you an option. 

You looked at him and he looked at you, confused. “Do you know how to set the bed?” you asked with a smile on your face. “Not really, no,” he said with a laugh, “I could use some help.” So you helped him set the bed. In the meantime, you both spoke about different things. You told him about the weddings and plans to spend as much time on the beach as possible. He told you about how one of his co-workers told him about Goa’s splendour and fun and how he and his family are spending their holiday together. 

By the time the bed was set, you were sitting on your berth while he opted to stand, his height making it difficult to sit on the upper berth. It was now way past midnight. You were getting tired, though it seemed that he was wide awake. Charlotte and Lorenzo finally returned. Your conversation died down. You said that you had to get up early and were now going to sleep. They promised to keep quiet. You put your eye mask on and turned to the side letting the swaying motions of the train put you to sleep. 

With the amount of excitement inside of you, you were not able to sleep for very long. You were well rested but woke up at 6 am. The three Monegasques were fast asleep (i have no idea of Charlotte’s nationality so let’s just say she is from monaco). You sat up in bed and for a good five minutes just admired the sleeping body opposite of you. You checked your phone and found out that the train was delayed by 3 hours. This was ridiculous. Apparently, a large group of animals were crossing the tracks when a train was approaching and it caused an accident. 

You got out of bed and went to see if any of your friends were awake. Everyone was sleeping, except Sarah whose bed was empty. She was probably in the washroom. You decided that it was too early to do anything and so went back to your cabin, fetched your toiletry bag, freshened up, went back to bed, wrapped yourself in the itchy blanket, and opened Subway Surfers on your phone while your other hand held a cold sandwich. Your headphones played some music you had downloaded. An hour passed and you set a new high score for which you were proud. Charles woke up. 

You didn’t notice at first, but he saw you as soon as his eyes opened. You looked adorable wrapped up in the cocoon of the blanket. It was when he sat up that you saw him and gave him a smile and a small wave. His cheeks turned red and he waved back. His thoughts of you at that moment ranged from pure and soft to vulgar and wild, and it all lasted for less than a second. He got up and went out. You decided that you should go and check if Sarah is awake. When you reached her cabin, her bed was still empty. Feeling lazy, you made the decision to stand by the train door and hopefully catch some cold morning wind. 

Your hair went in a plait and you opened the train door which was left unlocked. The toilet door opened and out came the dreamy Monegasque. He came up to you, "Are you sure that is the safest thing to do?” 

“Not really, but that’s the fun in it.” there was a sparkle in your eye when you turned your head to look at him. 

“Are you even allowed to open the door?” his laugh made it clear he was fooling around with you.

“Technically no. But it wasn’t locked, so it's on them.” Your laugh sounded angelic to him. The hair which escaped your braid framed your face so beautifully, Charles could do nothing but stare at you. It took him a second to realise you were asking him something.

“Slept well?” he shook his head. “Not quite. The constant shaking made me restless.” “That happens. But eventually, you get used to it.” He asked how you slept and you answered ‘pretty good.’ He stood opposite of you resting on the wall behind him watching the wind blow your hair around as the sun began to rise. The pair marinated in comfortable silence until a staff member came and told you to move away and shut the door. The tranquil moment was broken, but neither of you wanted it to end. Without speaking a word, the two of you went inside the compartment but stayed outside your cabin. 

“Well, we did speak last night but I do not know much about you.” 

“In that case, what would you like to know?”

He leans against the train wall, his arms crossed, your pose mimicking his. He thinks for a second and proceeds to ask, “How often do you travel?” “Not very often,” you respond, “I sometimes go for a weekend trip to nearby hill stations, but that's usually the max I travel.” 

“So no foreign trips?” 

“I don’t exactly have the funds for it,” you chuckle, “between getting a visa organised, praying that my leave from work gets approved, to finding flights, I just find it not worth the effort. I would be spending three months of my salary for just 10 days of vacation which I would rather spend finishing work which equals more money.”

He seemed perplexed by your answer, confusion evident on his face. “And would I be right in assuming that you travel abroad very often?” you ask, a bit of a smirk showing. He smiles and looks down, his hair moving due to this movement. Your eyes were fixed on this as he answered, “You would.” “And why do you travel the world, Charles?”

He smiles, that lovely smile, “I-uh, I drive expensive cars for very wealthy people around the world.” You smiled, but something about that answer felt false. Like he wasn’t telling you everything, but it didn’t seem like he was lying. “Does that mean you know much about cars then?” “I’d like to think I do.” 

The smiles never left either of your faces as the conversation continued. You mentioned how your brother works with different types of cars and how they are his life. “I should meet him then, test my knowledge about cars,” Charles said. 

“Trust me you don’t, he gets very excited when someone mentions anything about cars. Once he starts, he does not stop.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind, I am a good listener.”

"Tell me something you like." the driver asked after a while of the train being halted. You looked out of the hazy window and replied, "The sun." He cocked an eyebrow. "I could go on and on about it." "Well, I did say I am a good listener," said Charles.

The conversation went on for what felt like hours. But soon enough you felt the train start to finally move. You both decided to head back to the cabin, but you were stopped when one of your friends called out to you to join them. You were disappointed, gave Charles a short apology, and followed behind your friend. 

By the time you were able to go back to your cabin, the train had reached the final platform where you were getting off. You were hoping to catch a glimpse of Charles before leaving, but sadly when you returned to your cabin, it was empty save for your luggage and belongings. You gathered all of your items and met your group on the platform. The two cars which were rented for the next two weeks were there waiting for you. Everyone got in and drove off to the rest houses. You were the designated driver for Car 1, which gave you very little opportunity to think about not getting to say goodbye to Charles. 

Little did you know that you would meet him once again, very soon. 

Translations

Bhaiya jaldi karo, train jaa rahi hai! - Brother hurry up, the train is leaving!

Chhutta rakh lena! - Keep the change(money)

thaili - bag (in this case it is a black plastic bag)

A/N - i had so much fun writing this. i already have part 2 in the works. if this fic is well received, i'll post the next part. Hope you enjoyed reading❤️

If you want to find out more about me or my works, you can head to my navigation.

@sam-is-lost @juleswrites223

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Secure in your Lap

ft Nanami Kento

a/n: I can't believe I finally wrote thisI So this was inspired by this ask from @sitarawrites. It was supposed to be a cute fluffy fic, but somehow devolved into this angsty piece, so idk. Although I wrote this fic with a desi/asian reader in mind, I think anyone with a difficult relationship with their parents can relate to this, and I hope it comes across that way.

Rating: 13+, nothing explicit or sexual

Warnings: difficult family dynamics, mentions of familial trauma, guilt, manipulation

Pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

Summary: A phone call from reader's mother results in her remembering all the reasons she's grateful for her now fiance.

Word Count: 2343

Nanami masterlist

It’s never a good day when your mother calls. Sometimes you wonder why you put up with it and allow her to test your boundaries, despite setting a schedule that you would not be calling her except for Tuesday and Friday nights.

Even the hour spent on those nights are tedious at best. They never make you feel better; it's all for her. It makes her feel better. And despite the fact that you have graciously made this time for her, she never seems to appreciate it. In fact, most of these conversations are one-sided. You’ll have your headphones in, while she chatters away, as you try to focus on other tasks, like folding laundry, or tidying up the general clutter that always accumulates in the living room, throwing in the occasional ‘uhm hm’ every few minutes so that she knows you’re still on the line.

You’ve learned to tune out most of the conversation because very little of it is ever relevant to you. Unless you hear a few key words such as ‘dad’ or ‘finances’ or ‘house’ you don’t really pay attention to the conversation at all. Because you know how most of these conversations go. They start with her talking about her day, complaining about her job. Then she complains about your dad, despite knowing you’ve heard it all before. Then it devolves into blaming other people for circumstances she’s in right now based on events that happened long ago. 

When all of these topics are exhausted, she gets to her juiciest arsenal; you. Oh, the things she has to say about you, about how you were such a wonderful child, sweet and obedient and how you suddenly became this rough woman who she doesn’t know how to talk to anymore. Or how you’ve stopped visiting of late, that you’re never home for the holidays, and that she blames your boyfriend for this. Then it’s criticism of your life choices, starting with how you moved in with your boyfriend while unmarried, the fact that he’s not from the same ethnic background as you, or the fact that she blames your ‘attitude’ on him because he defends you from her each time. 

Today it was about how you could do so much better than him, and you finally snap. 

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

There’s a moment of silence, then with uncontained glee, she says, “Oh, I’m sorry. Well relationships sometimes don’t work out, it’s ok-”

“Because he asked me to marry him.” You finish bluntly, cutting her off. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore because he’s my fiance.” You wait for the bomb to drop.

“Oh.” Your mother’s voice sounds tight, like it’s been stretched taut between pins on a tacking board. “And when did this happen?”

“He proposed last Sunday.”

“And I’m finding out just now. You really must hate me…”

“Don’t do that,” You warn, keeping your voice deadly calm. You knew if you raised it or gave any signs that her words had affected you, it would give her a rush of satisfaction. “Either you’re happy for us or you’re not. Now which is it?”

“Well, it hardly matters now does it? Although I supposed I should be grateful you’re marrying him after all this time. There’s nasty gossip back in our community…so at least you’ve spared me from the embarrassing idea that you wouldn’t marry a man you’ve been living with like an unprincipled woman.”

“How lovely,” you said through gritted teeth. “Be sure to tell the community I have zero fucks to give them as well.”

“Language…I raised such a proper girl, when did you start saying filth like this?”

“I have to go mom. Your behavior will determine if you’re invited to the wedding or not.”

“You are the type to exclude your mother from your own wedding.I’ve known that for years. So it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise. Anyway, talk to you later…Friday night now?”

She disconnects the call and you sit there in disbelief, heart racing. Every time you stand up for yourself, you know it should feel like a victory but somehow, she manages to even steal that from you. You sigh and rest your head against the back of the car seat.

You had just driven home after a long day’s work and decided that it would be easier to talk to your mom in the car and finish it off since you didn’t want to detract from the peace you feel at home. You feel tears prick the back of your eyes and your throat feels like it’s closing in on itself. 

Why did you let her in on your life? There’s a strange sense of loyalty to her despite her abuse of you. Because despite everything, there are certain things she did which she wouldn’t have done if she hadn’t loved you. Putting you through your degrees, both bachelor’s and master’s. Letting you live at your parent’s house for free when you were in between jobs. Letting you borrow their car to get to job interviews. There’s signs of love there but why did it have to come attached with this emotionally manipulative price tag?

You let yourself cry for a short while, then hold up your left hand to admire the engagement ring your now fiance had picked out. A watery smile breaks out over your face as you look at it. You feel vain when you allow yourself to do this, but you can’t help it. You weren’t really looking at it for it’s monetary value, but more so for what it symbolized; the peace and balance he brought to your life, the maturity your own parents lacked while raising you, and the security that it didn’t matter if you made a bad choice, he’d never make you feel worse about it.

Wiping away your tears, you turn off the car and quickly look at yourself in the mirror. Thankfully your makeup hadn’t smudged much and you could chalk up the tiredness in your eyes as lack of sleep. You take a deep breath before getting out and entering your home. Your fiance was unloading takeout containers from a bag as you entered. He looks up and smiles warmly at you.

“Thought I heard you in the driveway,” he says as he comes over to embrace you, his arms enveloping you with affection. Nanami presses a kiss to your forehead then pulls you in closer, tucking your head under his chin.

You let yourself rest against the warmth of his broad chest, the comfortingly familiar feel of his body relief to the turmoil inside your chest. Resting your cheek on his chest, you close your eyes and breathe in deeply. 

“Y/n? Are you all right?”

Nanami always notices. There’s never a single moment when he’s out of touch with your feelings. He’s learned all the lines in your face, the way your different facial muscles contract or relax depending on how you're feeling. He notices the tension in your shoulders, the slight drop in energy in your step as you walk through the door. Nanami always notices. 

You slowly shake your head no. The flurry of feelings inside you, the hurt, the disappointment, the inability to cut off your mom for good, the overwhelming feeling of being inadequate, a disappointment, churn inside you to the point that you feel like you may never come out of this cyclone feeling like a winner. It’s so complex that you’re not even sure where to begin or how to put it into words. Your thoughts and feelings tangle like a ball of string, knotting into a mess of strands that are impossible to separate. 

“Kento.”

“Yes my love?” His hands run soothingly over your back. 

“I need your lap.”

That was all you could say at the moment. The complexity of everything was too much to bear. Over the years his lap has become a safe space for you. A quiet, designated spot where you could feel everything you wanted to, without any judgment. 

Nanami nodded wordlessly, gently taking your hand and leading you to the couch, sitting down and pulling you on top of his lap. Your feet wrap around his lower back, wedged between the sofa cushions and his body while your head rests on his chest, listening to his breathing and you try to match yours to his, a calming technique you’ve learned over the years.

His large hands play with your hair, stroking it, cupping the back of your head and gently pressing kisses to your forehead. He’s learned over the years that lap sessions meant you were in a state of distress and that it wasn’t his place to force you to talk. You would talk when you’re ready, if at all. 

“Mom?” he asks softly, his voice fluttering through the top of your hair. You merely nod, the thought of explaining it too difficult to even form words. A deep hum of understanding echoes from his chest and you close your eyes at the comforting sound.

Everything about him screamed security. You remember one time breaking a cup while making your morning coffee, the distinct crack of shattering porcelain filling the kitchen. You had flinched, waiting for the tirade of blame and accusations of clumsiness to come at you, only to see Nanami rushing over to you, concern etched all over his face.

“Are you all right? You didn’t get cut?” His words had brought you to tears, that his primary thought had been you and your safety, instead of a very replaceable coffee cup. No one yelling at you for making a mess in the kitchen, or muttering under their breath that you had wasted a usable mug. Nanami had, in a befuddled state, watched as you came to his side, wrapping your arms around him. It wasn’t until 2 weeks after the incident had happened that you had told him what that moment meant to you. 

And now here you were, again, allowing your mom to rob you of the happiness you had worked so hard to build. You're amazed at the patience Nanami has with you, at the way he always reassures you, never letting you forget your worth. That you're more than just your parents’ child. That you are a whole human being on your own, that has the right to live your life without their interference. 

“I don't think I want my parents at our wedding.” The words fall out of your mouth. There's lingering guilt but deep down, you knew it was for the best. 

Nanami adjusts himself on the couch and leans back against the cushions. Most of the time, he leaves handling your parents up to you, despite how much it bothers him that they ruin your mood every time. But there's understanding in his eyes. 

“Not even your dad? I thought you wanted him to give you away.”

“My dad’s an enabler. He'll never come if I don't invite my mom. Besides,” you inhale deeply and continue, “The only person worthy of giving me away is myself.” You gaze into his warm brown eyes, feeling proud that you had come this far. This would be your achievement today. That you were able to say these words and believe them. 

“That’s so very true sweetheart.” He gives you a reassuring squeeze. “Look at you, remembering your affirmations.”

Although it’s not much, you still feel yourself glowing at his praise. Growth on your end. “Besides, if they got involved, they’d hijack all the planning, blow it up into a grand ceremony even though that’s not what we want. It’s just easier without them.”

“Anything you want.” He brushes his lips against your hair.

“No, not anything I want. It’s your wedding too. I’d be ok if you wanted a ceremony. I imagine there’s lots of people you’d want to invite. I just won’t be inviting anyone from my side. Except for my best friend.”

He grasps your chin between his fingers and with sincerity asks you, “How did you imagine it?”

You consider this for a second. Previously, you had imagined the typical traditional wedding that people of your background were expected to have. But the image has been fading lately, and now, unburdened from your parents’ expectations, your mind immediately creates a picture.

“I want to do it at the beach. Just…no expectations, no one grumbling about how we skimped on decorations or other unnecessary things like flowers. I want…to walk down towards you on the sand, barefoot. Feel the ocean breeze on my face. There’s a small group of guests. Very minimalistic.”

He looks like he’s considering it for a moment but his expression doesn’t show signs of objection. “We could do that. Small wedding, intimate ceremony.”

“Really?” You look at him with love in your eyes.

“Really. I think all the people I want to invite would easily fit into this setting.”

You lean forward and wrap your arms around him tightly. There were simply no words to express how grateful you are for him, for his presence in your life. That you could actually be a family, just the two of you.  You lean back to take in all of him, just sitting serenely on the couch, in this shared space the both of you called home now. 

“Thank you, Kento.” You say quietly. You know it’s unnecessary, that his love is so very unconditional, no emotional price tags attached. “I know I’m not the easiest to love sometimes.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He draws you tightly to his chest. “It’s so easy to love you. Because every small thing you do is filled with love and consideration. Thoughtfulness. Emotion. And that’s enough. You don’t have to be more than that.”

Your heart swells as you hear his words, the only person to ever really understand just how much you needed to know those things. 

“I’m enough.” You whisper softly, still on his lap, resting comfortably in his embrace. You rest your head on his shoulder, eyes closing.

I’m enough…

all banners and dividers by @cafekitsune