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cuckoo-on-a-string · 6 months ago

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Neighborly

mdni

Masterlist

Soap x reader x Ghost

Summary: You didn't know hate until Johnny MacTavish. (Or a really big build-up to cuddles and smut).

Warnings: Implied anxiety disorder/depressive disorder, self-isolation, language, incredibly shitty communication and social competence.

It was supposed to be a one-shot.

You didn’t know hate until Johnny MacTavish.

He bought the only house within half a mile, the one you expected to stay silent and empty ‘til death did you part. So, you had reason to dislike him from the start. But you were raised right, and you pushed down the snarling hermit in your soul to be a good, friendly neighbor.

The first meeting was fine, even if he was a boombox of a human being.

“Neighbor? Oh, aye! The hermit? Sorry. Heard about you when I toured the place last month.” His eye lands on the plate of cookies you’ve brought to welcome him. “Those all for me?”

You made small talk at the door, swapped names, and set the groundwork for a reliable, limited relationship as polite people who just happened to live in close proximity.

Then the first snow fell.

You spied him outside, shoveling the shared drive that led up the hill. He cleared it all, which was kind, if a little stupid. The weather system promised another two inches by midafternoon, so everything would be solid white again before sunset. Still, not your problem.

But. He was shirtless. Ripped as fuck and shirtless.

As the wind flung each shovelful of snow back in his face, the powdery flakes stuck and melted on steaming skin. Muscles flexed as he made a spectacle of himself, and your thoughts turned to strategy and available resources.

You wrapped your palms around your ugly, handmade mug and sighed, sipping hot chocolate and wishing you’d gotten a neighbor with at least two scoops of common sense.

When he didn’t appear with his shovel the next morning, you knew your foreboding prophecy had come to pass.

You brought out the stock pot, fished out packs of frozen produce harvested from your garden, and sacrificed your last bag of chicken breasts. The skeleton saved from an old rotisserie bird joined the ingredient army. Might as well go all-in. A man with that many muscles needed bone broth to recover.

Since you didn’t know if he was a picky eater, you minced the garlic and onions small, even when your eyes burned to the point you had to stop for a break. You let the aromatics brown, added celery, carrots, potatoes, and fistfuls of fresh herbs. The precious seasonings survived the winter under grow lights and protective sheeting on your dining room table.

You doubted your neighbor would appreciate this gift for everything it was, but whatever he did as an idiot neighbor would be leagues better than the presence of a rowdy ghost.

When the chicken was tender and the broth tasted like home, you poured it into individual portions and packed them in a canvas bag with a loaf of bread, a box of tea, a jar of local honey, and a thermometer. It wasn’t terribly heavy, but the cold froze your fingers through your gloves. Your hand was cramping by the time MacTavish answered the door, red-nosed, pale, and bleary-eyed.

He let you in, mumbling a scratchy-voiced welcome, and if you’d known what that conversation would incite, you would’ve let him waste away like the families you failed playing Oregon Trail.

“Eat one now and keep the rest in the fridge.” You stack the single-serve containers in the fridge as you speak, sure he won’t remember the minutiae of your instructions. The last you pop in his microwave. He’s staring at you with feverish eyes, confused and helpless like a sick dog left on the side of the road.

Everything comes out of the bag, lining his counter so he can see them – and hopefully remember he has them. The thermometer comes out last.

“If your fever is over 104 in the morning, call the doctor. I’ll drive you if you need me to.”

That glassy stare isn’t shifting. The man doesn’t even blink.

“Did you get all that?”

He clears his throat. The action and sound are both strangely slow in his exhausted state, and you’re determined not to feel bad for him.

“Aye.” Finally, he blinks. “Eat the soup. Watch for 104.”

Good enough.

“Okay.”

The microwave beeps, you pull out the soup, leaving him to fetch a spoon from wherever the hell he keeps them. You don’t wait for him to show you out. “Take care of yourself.”

He didn’t call for help, and you took your turn shoveling the drive with proper protection after the last wave of flurries passed.

The next time he saw you in passing – you were returning home and he was just leaving – he let you know your soup was delicious, that the bread was amazing, and the honey did wonders for his throat. He never returned your containers.

Ah, well. They were replaceable.

Then the next snow came, and the dumb bitch went shoveling shirtless again.

It wasn’t as much snow, and it didn’t take him half as long, but you steamed, glaring from the safety of your kitchen window. You refused to replace your meal prep supplies again. And local honey was expensive. The brat could freeze and die. Something about taking a horse to water and all that shit.

You drank your coffee black that morning, just to make a point to no one in particular.

The man didn’t know how to take care of himself, and he had no idea how to winter-proof his home.

His pipes froze. You brought buckets, old towels, bottled water, and the number of an excellent plumber. Then you explained why he should pay attention to the forecast and let faucets drip to keep the water moving. You told him to open the cabinets under sinks so heat could combat the chill along exterior walls.

His truck’s battery succumbed to the cold. You gave him a jump and escorted him to town to make sure he didn’t get himself stranded.

When he didn’t keep things stocked and tried to panic-shop before a big storm, discovering that small town shelves couldn’t meet demand, you shared staples from your pantry.

He didn’t have more than two cheap blankets in his living space, so when the holidays rolled around you gave him your latest assemblage of granny-squares. And a scarf.

He gave you burnt cookies – “Biscuits” – in return.

(And a half-empty bottle of whiskey.)

He never remembered to drag his trash down to the main road.

And gods help you if the power went out, because the man had no generator, very little in his pantry, and rarely more than a quarter tank of gas in his ride.

He was careless. Clueless. Nearly helpless.

What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t leave him to his fate. It was unneighborly and inhumane.

He made you angry. But you didn’t hate him until his friend moved in.

A few months into his residence, you went to Johnny’s door to ask if he needed anything from town before the next storm shadowed the forecast, and a stranger came to the door.

A hulking monster with a skull painted over his balaclava.

The doorway shrank around his broad shoulders, and he ducked when he stepped out. You weren’t sure if he entirely needed to, but you understood the urge – like an adult stepping out of a child’s playhouse. Scarred knuckles wrapped around the doorknob, and you knew his grip would swallow you whole by the way it engulfed the brass handle.

Animal instinct jarred you. Every hair from the base of your skull to the end of your spine stood on end as you tried to smell the air, listen to the wind, spot the predator’s intent before it was too late.

You didn’t have a problem with people balaclavas. You’d worn one the other day when you were shoveling the drive, but this looked less like protection and more like a threat.

Was he robbing your neighbor? Had a serial killer come to town? Oh, fuck.

You took a step back, reaching for your phone because you didn’t carry a weapon, especially not on a grocery run, and it was the closest thing you had to help.

“You the neighbor?”

He asked so casually, vaguely irritated, but relaxed. It wasn’t the voice of a man who’d just been caught committing a felony, and you took a second to look beyond the stranger’s mask (and size). There was a mug in his hand, and he wore a t-shirt with sweats. His socked feet lingered on the front step, just shy of the blue road salt and crisped ice. Not robbery gear. More like a… houseguest?

Your neighbor never had guests before.

It caught you so off guard your brain short circuited. He had always been a lone, helpless figure. Made sense he’d have friends, though. You couldn’t imagine he’d survive anywhere long without someone looking out for him.

You were still a little irritated that your neighbor had invited his own friend to his own house on his own property without informing you, but that was just the recluse inside snarling at a new face. Or half of one.

And – well – manners.

Holding out a mittened hand, you introduced yourself, adding, “I stopped to see if Johnny needed anyth-”

“No.” He shut you down so fast you reeled another step back. “Don’t need anything.”

He closed the door and that was that.

Sun glittered on the season’s collection of snow, a frozen fairyland that wouldn’t entirely melt until spring. Then there would be roads washed out, and mud, and you’d need to teach Johnny flash flood safety and…

It didn’t compute. Johnny was still home, so surely he’d pop out with an explanation.

You waited.

But he didn’t.

The absolute fuck?

Your spinning thoughts kept you trapped in your head for a solid minute, processing what had happened, what was implied, and what that meant for your neighborly relationship. Even when you managed to move, drive to town, and run your errands, the interaction prickled in your mind like a splinter.

You must’ve done something wrong.

Aged fluorescent lights strobed out of time with your cart’s shrieking wheels. You discovered your list wasn’t in your pocket. It waited at home, next to a pen to add Johnny’s requests. You’d already added things you doubted he’d think to ask for, and it would take time to pick apart your needs. The list wouldn’t have saved you, even if you’d remembered it.

Three bags of flour went into your cart. That was fine. They’d keep, and baking was a good way to combat cabin fever (it warmed the house as a bonus).

Two gallons of milk.

Wait.

No.

You put one back, self-conscious. A young mother with her baby stood just behind you, and an old woman was reviewing her coupons across the aisle. You refused to make eye contact, convinced you’d catch them watching. Did they see? Were they worried about your germs on the product you put back? Did they think you were too broke to buy what you needed? Maybe they thought you’d just broken up with your boyfriend or something.

You counted the squares in the linoleum as you marched away from the refrigerators’ humming. One less source of white noise. It didn’t help as much as you’d hoped. The real buzzing roared inside your skull.

Johnny was a pain in the ass, but at least he was friendly. He wasn’t considerate, but he always thanked you. His friend was a whole different beast. Unfriendly. With a spare set of teeth snarling at the world.

The stranger hadn’t even introduced himself. Was he staying long? Moving in? What was he to Johnny? That question alone would answer so many others.

Because you’d never seen him interact beyond basic business with the mechanic, you realized you had no idea of his sexual orientation. Was he gay? Bi? Pan?

His shirtless shoveling shenanigans annoyed you, yes, but you’d unconsciously granted him a little leeway, assuming it had to do with misguided masculine showmanship. The rooster strutting where the hen could see. The dumbass alpha male proving he was a good, strong provider who was also quite nice to look at.

Clearly you were wrong, and in retrospect, you couldn’t see him as anything but a narcistic dipshit in need of training wheels.

You’d thought, maybe, he even liked you. As a friend? A comrade against the cold? As something.

But you were just a stop-gap. Useful.

Convenient.

Until his real friend joined him.

You found your attention unraveling like a cheap sweater. No matter how hard to you dried to darn the holes, you couldn’t keep up with the loose thread undoing all your conscious measures. It was quickly becoming one of those days when you convinced yourself your therapist had lied about everything.

When you messed up, even in your head, everyone knew.

If they didn’t say otherwise, you were annoying everyone in the room. If they did say otherwise, they were just being polite.

You weren’t likeable, not loveable, and the minute you weren’t useful you should make yourself scarce. Otherwise, things would get awkward, and no one wanted that. You could be the adult. You could hack off a limb and smile about it.

It didn’t hurt, and even if it did, it shouldn’t, because you didn’t have a right to that feeling.

Alright. Fine.

You realized, just as you joined the line for the cashier, that you’d forgotten matches and sugar. They’d been on your list. But someone joined the line behind you, and unspoken social rules that probably didn’t exist shackled you in place. Too late. You’d look stupid. You’d bother someone. Oh well. You’d just have to make another trip. Soon. But not too soon. Now there were two sets of eyes watching you from the connecting drive, and you didn’t want to give them reason to gossip and laugh and assume…

Your pile of groceries looked too small on the conveyor belt. Roughly half what they’d been lately. Would the cashier notice? You were sure she did. The way she recited your total sounded disappointed. Was she counting on you buying more? Were you hurting the employees’ holiday bonus? Shit. Fuck.

The bags felt too heavy. Too light. You forgot your reusable sacks at home, and the plastic dug guilt and accusations into the crease of your palms. On top of everything else, you were killing the planet.

You drove home.

Along the river. Through the trees. Up the hills to your corrupted sanctuary.

At least you didn’t need to make a second trip to bring in all the shopping. Your haul landed on the counter, you threw the damned milk in the fridge, and you realized, as you opened the pantry, that you already had four bags of flour. Two all-purpose, two for bread. Because you’d planned to bake for two.

The flour hadn’t been on your list.

And there was no room for it.

Your lip wobbled, and you bit it ferociously, chewing it until the texture changed and bits of skin started peeling.

It wasn’t a problem. You liked being prepared. You’d dump it in one of the emergency storage totes you kept in the hall closet and be ready when something went wrong.

You did just that, popping open the plastic lid and layering the flour over dry lentils, black beans, and shelf-stable cartons of broth. You decided to add more baking supplies to the list. Even if the power went out you could use the wood-burning stove in the living room to make griddle cakes. Maybe even soda bread.

There. Yeah. That wasn’t so bad. A silver lining.

As you returned to the kitchen, brainstorming ways to atone for the plastic bags you’d used, the scent of coffee wafted down the hall. Which was strange. Because you hadn’t put the moka pot on. You rushed in, frowning.

The old drip machine you only used for company burbled in the corner, and the groceries sat precariously on the corner, shoved aside by the beast who’d wandered through your unlocked door.

A tall, mohawked figure groped, shoulder-deep, in your cabinets.

MacTavish.

The Scottish mumbling would’ve tipped you off even if you weren’t so familiar with his figure (and hair, and limited wardrobe).

Your angst tasted bitter as you swallowed it down. You needed space for the feelings popping like firecrackers in your chest.

Relief. Hope. Dread.

He was in your space without invitation, and with the morning you’d just had, you felt anything but comfortable. Either you’d jumped the gun, or he was bringing a delayed apology for his friend.

“Johnny? What are you doing here?”

He smiled over his shoulder as he pulled two cups down from the shelf. One with your college logo and your prized ugly mug.

“Hello, neighbor!” He cackled, laughing at his own joke. “Wanted to give you a heads up and have a chat. My friend’s come to stay with me.”

Friend? What flavor of friend?

“I know. We met this morning.”

“Aye. Real barrel o’ sunshine, isn’ he?”

“If you say so.”

You wanted to be nice. You wanted to be his friend, too. But you weren’t, and you’d worked so hard to be a good, reliable person he could depend on in a new town – you were drained.

“His name’s Ghost.”

Most people grew out of their edgelord status by their early twenties. Ghost –with his skull balaclava and gruff voice – seemed better fit for the emo table of a suburban high school cafeteria than the adult world.

Johnny kept prattling, making an introduction for someone who wasn’t even there. “Told him all about you! He was impressed. Smacked me over the head about the pipes and said we’d go into town for a generator before the next big snow.”

“Hard to predict the next big snow.”

“Aye. He said that, too.”

If Ghost could keep your insights out of his mouth, you would appreciate it. It felt like he was stealing something from you, and you found yourself shifting from foot to foot, arms crossed, waiting for something terrible to happen.

And it did.

Gesturing as he described his old buddy and new housemate, his elbows danced around your kitchen like battering rams. First, he struck a cabinet, which hurt him more than the wood. He laughed it off. Kept talking. You didn’t need to say a word. By that point, you probably couldn’t even if he left space to speak.

For the life of you, you couldn’t riddle out what his visit was for. It was exhausting. He never chattered so much when you brought food or showed him how to keep his home in one piece. Ghost must make him very happy. His joy made you anxious.

His arm wide, indicating the views he’d fallen for and not the practical considerations of living in the goddamn woods on a goddamn mountain, and you watched in slow motion as his forearm caught your ugly mug’s handle.

It spun, wobbling to the edge of the counter, and before you could move, it plummeted.

A bad day instantly became your worst in years.

It must’ve made a sound when it hit, but you didn’t hear it. Or didn’t remember it. You didn’t remember going to the floor after it, either.

Your mug was in pieces, and when you pulled them to safety, wrapped tight in your fist, the glazed edges cut deep. It was such an ugly little thing. Your ugly little thing. You’d made it in one of those sip-and-spin pottery classes with your pals before you stopped going to see people face-to-face.

The mug wasn’t a friend. It was all of your friends. It was the fun you, the one who went out and did things, and moved through life like a real, entire person.

It practically exploded when it hit the tile. Some pieces were bigger than others, but there were dozens of them. Glittering chips and flecks that you knew you’d be finding with your feet through the rest of the winter.

There was no fixing it. It hurt. You were bleeding. Red oozed up between your knuckles and snaked down your wrist.

“Oh, shite! Shite, shite, shite. Are you alright? Here, let me –”

You didn’t want him to touch it again. Didn’t want him to touch you and act like he gave a fuck. This was a big, ugly feeling bubbling up inside, and if he didn’t dislike you yet, he would when he saw all the tears and snot.

A pretty crier you were not.

And no one wanted to see that, or deal with it, or cope with someone else’s messy emotions.

“It’s fine. I’m okay.” You grit your teeth and smiled through them. “But I need to clean this up, and I still have groceries to put away. How about you get your friend settled and we can talk another time, okay?”

“Are you sure?” His attention was fixed on the blood. Bright red was such an alarming color. You could understand.

“Yeah. Just a little scratch. Promise. But I can’t play host and clean myself up.”

His neck went stiff, and his eyes flicked from your face to the floor. Several times. Like he was having an argument with himself. But in the end, he listened, nodded, and got back on his feet from where he’d knelt in front of you.

“If you insist. But we’re right over there if you need anything, aye?”

“I know.”

Finally, he left.

You got up and locked the door behind him. If you’d taken time to do that before you put away the groceries none of this would’ve happened. You would still have your mug and you wouldn’t be on the floor, crying and cradling the remains of something that mattered to you.

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

He kept coming over when he needed things. Usually after Ghost’s truck rumbled down the drive. Sometimes he wanted advice. Sometimes he needed help. Usually he took tools and supplies he should’ve bought for himself.

You put your curtains to good work. You couldn’t remember a time you drew them so often. If he knocked, you’d answer, but the curtains were a good deterrent. Not foolproof, but something that gave you a little more power over your privacy.

Long jaunts into town have become escapes from your own home. Better the eyes of strangers – fleetingly painful – than the paranoia of sitting under glass where your neighbors might read your habits and foibles by the way the lights turn on and off through the night, might judge your messy hair through the kitchen window as you wash the dishes. Might, might, might. There were terrible possibilities in all that potential.

They were always there. One ready to freeze you out, the other hanging on your apron strings like a teenager who just got his first place. The conflict rubbed over your nerves like a match on a boot heel. Too much, too fast, and you’d combust.

So you found a lot of reasons to go into town. You remembered how much you liked the library, the joy of a cinnamon roll someone else baked, and hot coffee that didn’t come with a side of flashbacks.

The forecast predicted heavy snow overnight, and you made a day of grocery shopping, collecting novels from the library, and avoiding your neighbor’s last-minute requests.

You barely noticed the teens rushing out of the parking lot as you left your final stop, canvas bag loaded with enough media to keep you entertained through the storm of the century. No windows were broken. No key marks scuffed the paint. If they committed any mischief, it was minor.

Gas theft didn’t cross your mind until your engine quietly gave out and your car rolled to a stop between Nowhere and Nothing.

Understanding dawned with grudging revulsion. Like looking at the toilet and realizing it wouldn’t flush.

The little shits had siphoned your tank.

You smacked the steering wheel, cursing.

So much for the benefit of the doubt. You couldn’t escape. Everyone everywhere just wanted to use you.

But it was fine. Everything would be fine. You were always prepared in case someone fucked you over. Your wellbeing was your responsibility, after all.

Climbing out of the warm cabin, you headed to the back and pulled out the emergency gas can.

The red plastic was shockingly light. You didn’t realize until you’d already thrown your weight into the yank. Unbalanced, you tottered, and your heel skidded over ice.

The snow cushioned your fall, and you stared blankly into the white limned branches overhead as you tried to process the last five seconds. Things like this happened to idiots. They did not happen to you. Careful, cautious you with your backup plans and reserves.

You had simply made a mistake. Somewhere. Somehow. You’d find an explanation.

When you sat up, still in a state of shock, you examined the can, expecting signs of a mouse, or a crack, or…

An I.O.U. was taped to the back.

You knew the handwriting all too well.

That shitting little…

The snow arrived. Silence swallowed the mountain, and the gloaming snuffed the last of the sun’s warmth.

You sat alone on the side of the road, well aware that no one would come up this way for hours. Days maybe.

You had made a mistake.

You made your neighbor chicken soup.

Your nose burned, and you sniffed. Hot tears rolled down your face, burning as they went, and you wiped at them furiously. The wool of your mittens chafed your cheek. Your lip wobbled, and you hurled the empty can into the woods.

Fuck Johnny MacTavish.

Fuck Ghost.

Fuck your life.

#fic: neighborly #john soap mctavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #soap x reader x ghost #soap x ghost

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someonegoood · 6 months ago

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I’m not a kid! pt. 1 ✫ jeon jungkook

in which you’ve always had a hopeless crush on your brother’s best friend, Jungkook, who’s made it painfully clear he doesn’t feel the same—until a family vacation forces buried emotions to the surface.

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst & fluff ! idolverse, age gap, arguments, jungkook is an ass with reader, making out…

NOTE: i’ll upload part 2 later… someday!! this work is not revised and english is not my first language :)

part 1, part 2.

my main masterlist! ❀

The salty breeze of Busan’s coastline always carried the scent of the ocean and the faint cries of seagulls circling above. The city was alive with contrasts: the bustling fish markets that lined the shore and the quiet charm of the winding streets that climbed up the hills.

For Jungkook, Busan had always been home. The neighbourhood where he grew up wasn’t particularly special, but it was familiar—a place where kids spent endless summers playing soccer at the nearby park. That’s where he first met Minho.

Minho, your older brother, was the kind of boy everyone gravitated towards. He was a social butterfly while Jungkook was a shy eight-year-old, reluctant to join in but unable to resist Minho’s easygoing charisma.

“You’re on my team, Jeon,” Minho had declared one afternoon, tossing a worn-out soccer ball to Jungkook without waiting for a response.

From that day on, the two were inseparable. They shared everything: snacks bought from corner stores, secrets whispered during sleepovers, and dreams about what they wanted to be when they grew up.

That’s how you came into the picture.

You were Minho’s little sister, always tagging along, much to Jungkook’s annoyance. You were the sunshine to Minho’s confident energy, with an eternal optimism that made everyone crack a smile. But to him, you were just Minho’s sister—someone to tolerate because you came with the package.

Instead, over the years, your bubbly nature and obvious admiration for Jungkook became harder for him to ignore. You lingered on the sidelines of their soccer matches, offering water bottles and clapping too enthusiastically when he scored a goal. You laughed at his jokes even when they weren’t funny and gave him small, thoughtful gifts on his birthday—things like handmade keychains or little notes tucked into envelopes.

And while Minho teased you endlessly about your obvious crush, Jungkook’s reaction was always more severe. He hated it—not because he didn’t like you, but because he didn’t know how to like you. That made everything infinitely more complicated.

So, he did what he thought was best: he pushed you away.

NINE YEARS AGO…

The evening had the magic that only Busan nights could conjure: warm, salty air and the soft glow of lanterns strung along the bustling street-side restaurant.

Your family and the Jeons had planned this dinner weeks ago, a casual gathering to catch up and enjoy good food before Jungkook left for another training session in Seoul.

“I’m moving to Seoul,” he announced some years ago at your family’s barbecue, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t just shattered your world.

Your heart sank.

“For what?” your brother asked, genuinely curious.

Jungkook’s lips curled into the smallest of smiles. “To be a trainee. BigHit is giving me a shot.”

You froze, the words hitting you harder than you expected. He hadn’t told you. He hadn’t even hinted at it. That night, you cried alone in your room. You felt betrayed: that was your only dream since childhood. Eventually he left Busan to become a trainee, which had made you wonder if you’ll ever have an opportunity in the industry.

The long, wooden table was nestled under a canopy of fairy lights, with plates of grilled fish, spicy tteokbokki, and steaming bowls of jjigae scattered across its surface. You sat beside Jungkook, not by choice but because the seating arrangement had worked out that way. Your mother was chatting animatedly with Mrs. Jeon, and your brother Minho was in a heated debate with Jungkook’s older brother about which soccer team was superior.

You couldn’t focus. Not with Jungkook so close, his presence filling the air between you. He was dressed casually in a black hoodie and jeans, his dark hair slightly messy from the seaside breeze. He was scrolling through his phone, barely acknowledging you, but you could feel the heat radiating from his shoulder whenever it brushed yours.

As the clock neared midnight, the temperature dropped. You rubbed your arms, the thin pink cardigan you’d worn doing little to ward off the chill. You tried to focus on the conversation, but your shivering gave you away.

“Are you cold?” your mom asked from across the table, concern in her eyes.

“I’m fine,” you lied quickly, forcing a smile.

But you weren’t fine, and Jungkook noticed your trembling.

Later, when the two families were chatting, you hesitated for a moment and then glanced at him. “Can I… borrow your hoodie?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

“Your hoodie,” you repeated, trying to sound casual. “I’m freezing here.”

He stared at you for a second longer than necessary, his lips pressing into a thin line. Then, without a word, he pulled the hoodie over his head, his black t-shirt riding up slightly to reveal a toned stomach. You quickly looked away, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Here,” he muttered, holding it out to you.

You slipped it on, the fabric warm and smelling faintly of his cologne—a mix of citrus and vanilla. It was far too big on you, the sleeves hanging past your fingertips, but it was comforting nonetheless.

“Thanks,” you said softly, stealing a glance at him.

He shrugged, his expression unreadable. “It’s just a hoodie.”

But as the night went on, you noticed little things. How he subtly shifted closer when the breeze picked up. How his knee brushed against yours under the table, and he didn’t pull away. How, when he thought no one was looking, his gaze lingered on you a second too long.

And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t just a hoodie after all.

That dinner had stirred something in you. Maybe it was the way Jungkook had handed you his hoodie without hesitation or the bubble gum scent on it. Whatever it was, the feelings swirling inside you.

SEVEN YEARS AGO…

It all started at one of Minho’s infamous parties. The room was crowded, music pumping, and you tried your best to enjoy yourself but the thought of being there just because you were Minho's sister made you cringe. That was until you saw Jungkook laughing in the corner with his friends. He had got back from Seoul a few days ago because his company gave him some free days.

Your chest tightened as you saw him. It was impossible to ignore how Jungkook’s carefree laughter carried across the room, pulling you into a spiral of softness. You retreated to the kitchen, determined to drown your emotions in a cup of punch. That’s where Juwon found you, one of your brother's friends.

"Stop pouting," he teased, ruffling your hair. "What’s wrong, kid?"

You shrink at the thought of being called a "kid". "I’m not a kid," you snapped, pulling away. "And nothing’s wrong."

Juwon didn’t believe you, but before he could pry further, Jungkook walked in. His sharp jawline, dark eyes, and smirk made your heart skip a beat.

"Juwon-ah," Jungkook greeted casually before his gaze flicked to you. "What’s with the long face? Did someone steal your crayons?"

Your jaw tightened, and Juwon chuckled. "She’s sulking about something. Probably got dumped." You glared at him, but Jungkook’s smirk only widened.

"Dumped?" Jungkook tilted his head mockingly. "You’d have to date someone for that to happen, kid."

That was the last straw.

"Stop, I’m not a kid!" you snapped, slamming your cup onto the counter. "I’m not some little girl you can just mock whenever you feel like it, Jungkook!"

The room went silent, tension crackling between you. Jungkook’s smirk faltered, replaced by something unreadable. Juwon shifted uncomfortably, sensing he’d made a mistake by staying.

"Alright..." Juwon muttered. "I’m leaving you two to... whatever this is." When he left, Jungkook leaned against the counter, his eyes narrowing as he studied you.

"You’re really something, aren’t you?" he said, his voice low. "Always so desperate to prove yourself. What are you trying to prove this time? That you’re all grown up?"

You felt the sting of his words but refused to back down.

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might actually apologize. Instead, he muttered, "You’re too young to understand."

"Stop using that excuse!" you shot back. "I’m not a kid anymore, and you don’t get to decide how I feel!" The argument hung in the air like a storm ready to break. Jungkook opened his mouth to respond but closed it again, his expression darkened immediately. He went closer to you, his height suddenly making the space between you feel even smaller.

“Are you kidding right now?” he asked, his tone cold. Your noses were almost touching.

Your heart sank and you closed your eyes. “I… I just want to be serious. For once.”

“Serious?” His voice rose, sharp and cutting. “Kid, you'll never be.”

The words hit you like a slap. You blinked rapidly, trying to process the sudden shift in his demeanour.

“I don’t need this,” he continued, his frustration spilling out. “I don’t need you trying to play house or whatever weird crush you’ve got going on. Stop wasting your time on me. You’re just a little kid.”

Your chest tightened the sting of his words bringing tears to your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling. The cup you were holding was long forgotten.

"You’re... impossible, stubborn, and way too good for someone like me." Your breath hitched as his hand brushed against yours.

"Kook..."

He pulled back suddenly, as if afraid of what might happen next. "We can’t," he muttered, more to himself than to you. But before he could walk away, you grabbed his wrist.

"You’re an idiot," you said, tears pricking your eyes. "But if you walk away now, you’re proving me right."

Jungkook froze, his expression conflicted. Then, in one swift motion, he closed the distance between you, his lips crashing onto yours. He began to kiss you, gently biting on your lower lip trying to make you open your mouth. You had never, in your whole life, thought Jungkook would be kissing you.

The kiss was messy, desperate, and everything you’d imagined it would be. One hand on your waist gripping you tightly, rubbing circles with his thumb as his other hand is gently holding the side of your face.

Jungkook began to press kisses along the length of your neck, stopping just above your jawline.

“That feels nice,” you blushed.

He chuckled as he leant in towards you, brushing his hand against your cheek. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his voice shaky.

“We can’t… You know we can’t.”

Once again, his eyes travelled to your lips but before he could kiss you he turned quickly, rushing back into the living room before you broke down completely.

Or so he thought. That was the first time Jeon Jungkook kissed you.

That night, sitting alone in your room with tear-streaked cheeks and a heart that felt both shattered and strangely free, you made a decision: it was time to focus on yourself.

Becoming an idol had always been your dream. You remembered the exact moment you decided this was what you wanted—a moment of clarity during a school talent show when the cheers of the crowd and the spotlight on you felt like home.

But dreaming of something and pursuing it were two entirely different things.

When you told your family you wanted to audition, they smiled indulgently, thinking it was a phase. Your brother, ever protective, had scoffed, telling you to "be realistic." Jungkook, who was still part of your life, had smirked and asked, "Are you trying to be me? Do you even know how hard life my is?"

And he was right.

Auditioning for agencies was gruelling. There were days when you faced rejection after rejection, each one feeling like a crack in the foundation of your confidence. You’d wake up at 5 a.m. for practice sessions, juggling school, part-time jobs, and long hours of singing and dancing in a cramped studio. Every week, you had to convince yourself to keep going when everything in you screamed to quit.

The hardest part, though, wasn’t the physical exhaustion—it was the emotional toll.

Friendships began to slip away, you missed birthdays, family dinners, and countless moments that made your hometown feel like home. Moving to Seoul for training was bittersweet. You were chasing your dream, but it felt like leaving behind pieces of yourself.

Training wasn’t glamorous, either. There were days when your trainers yelled at you for missing a note or a beat, and you’d spend nights in the dorm crying into your pillow, wondering if you’d ever be good enough. Some trainees around you gave up, packing their bags and leaving without a word. But you stayed because deep down, you knew this was what you were meant to do.

And then, one day, after years of relentless hard work, you got a call from BigHit. You had been selected to debut. You and the four other girls you’d grown close to over endless practice hours were going to be idols.

But with gaining fame came him.

Jungkook had debuted first, of course, with BTS. And every time you crossed paths at the company, at award shows or music programs, he made it clear he wasn’t thrilled about it.

It was a surreal moment as you and your group—Mimi, Sky, Nari, and Yunjin—stepped into the large studio for the BigHit family photoshoot. The air buzzed with energy as staff members rushed to set up lighting and cameras. You were dressed in coordinating white outfits, your makeup and hair perfected to the last detail, but none of it stopped the nervous flutter in your stomach.

The nerves only intensified when you saw BTS already gathered near the set, their laughter and chatter filling the room. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen them; in fact, you’d met the members long before they became global sensations, back when Jungkook was still a trainee.

Taehyung and Jin had always been the most welcoming, making an effort to befriend you during those early, uncertain days of training. You had countless memories of Taehyung showing you silly tricks to lighten your mood and Jin bringing snacks to share after practice sessions. Even now, they greeted you with warm smiles, as if no time had passed at all.

Taehyung waved enthusiastically as you approached. "Look at you! All grown up now."

You laughed, cheeks flushing. "And you haven’t changed a bit, Tae."

But the moment your eyes landed on Jungkook, your breath hitched. He stood near the backdrop, hands tucked in his pockets, looking impossibly good in his fitted suit. His gaze met yours briefly, and he gave a small nod, his expression unreadable.

You had seen him a few weeks ago at a family lunch back in Busan, but every encounter still carried a weight you couldn’t quite shake.

"Alright, everyone!" The photographer clapped his hands, gathering everyone’s attention. "We’re starting with the full group shots. BTS and our newest girl group, together."

Your heart sank. You weren’t sure you could survive being this close to Jungkook, especially under the teasing gaze of your members and his.

As the groups began to arrange themselves, chaos ensued. Jin insisted on being in the middle, Taehyung joked about needing his best angle, and your leader, Mimi, declared she wouldn’t stand anywhere near Namjoon because he was too tall. Amid the commotion, you somehow ended up right next to Jungkook.

You tried not to panic as you felt his body press against your back in the cramped arrangement, and you swore you could feel the heat radiating off him.

"Y/N," Sky whispered, barely containing her laughter. "You’re blushing."

"Shut up," you hissed back, but your cheeks betrayed you, turning even redder.

"Look at them," Jimin teased loudly, his voice drawing everyone’s attention. "Our maknaes! Should we make room for you two?"

"Jimin," you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

Sky and Nari joined in, giggling as they exchanged knowing looks with BTS’s members. Even Yoongi couldn’t resist chiming in. "Let’s make a maknae photo. Everyone else, move aside!"

The teasing only worsened as the photographer tried to get everyone to focus. Jungkook remained quiet through it all, his expression unreadable, but you were hyper-aware of his proximity.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

"Enough," Jungkook said, his voice firm but not harsh. The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to him.

He looked down at you, his expression softening. "Let’s just take the photo, okay?"

You nodded, too flustered to say anything. The teasing subsided after that, and the rest of the shoot went smoothly, though you couldn’t stop your heart from racing every time Jungkook shifted beside you.

As the session wrapped up, Taehyung leaned over and whispered in your ear, "He still cares, you know."

You didn’t respond, but the lingering warmth of Jungkook’s presence and the memory of his quiet defence stayed with you long after the photoshoot ended.

The photoshoot felt like a blur in your memory, but one moment lingered vividly—Jungkook standing beside you, his quiet presence both overwhelming and grounding. When he had stepped in to silence the teasing, you’d felt a warmth you couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just his defence but the softness in his eyes, the unspoken understanding that had stayed with you.

Since then, things between you have been… complicated. Jungkook was still distant most of the time, his words often cold, but there were cracks in his armour. Small, fleeting moments where his gaze softened or his words carried a hint of something deeper.

Now, backstage at the award show, the weight of his presence pressed on you like a phantom. You hadn’t exchanged more than a glance, but his impact lingered, just like it always did.

“Okay, so who’s the most nervous?” Nari teased, trying to break the tension as your group sat in a quiet corner.

“Not me,” Sky declared, though her knuckles were white around her water bottle.

“What about our maknae?” Mimi leaned closer to you. “You’ve been off all morning. Thinking about Jungkook again?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as the others giggled. “I’m not,” you lied, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

“You totally are,” Yunjin added, poking your side. “He’s got you all flustered, and he hasn’t even spoken to you yet.”

Before you could respond, Taehyung and Jin appeared, their easy smiles immediately lightening the mood.

“Ladies, looking stunning as always,” Taehyung greeted, his tone playful as ever.

Jin offered his signature kind smile. “Nervous? Don’t be. You’ll do great.”

Their presence was a welcome distraction, and you couldn’t help but laugh when Taehyung dramatically declared, “We’re here to protect you from Jungkook’s glaring.”

But the laughter was short-lived. Across the room, Jungkook leaned against the wall, his sharp gaze fixed on you. When Jin ruffled your hair, earning a bright laugh from you, Jungkook’s jaw tightened.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to focus on the performance ahead. But just as you steadied yourself, he approached the group.

“Hey,” Jungkook called softly.

Everyone turned, surprised to see him standing next to you, his expression unreadable but his tone lacking its usual sharpness. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside your group's dressing room.

“Don’t let me ruin this for you,” he said, his voice so low you could bearly hear him. “You’re… good at this. Just do your thing.”

It wasn’t an apology for everything he had done, but it was something.

Your eyes searched his, looking for any trace of malice, but all you found was a flicker of uncertainty. For the first time in what felt like forever, his walls seemed to lower, if only slightly.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, unsure of what else to say.

As he walked out, Yunjin sidled up beside you, a knowing grin on her face. “What did Jungkook say?”

“Nothing important,” you lied, though your heart told a different story.

“Sure,” she teased.

The words stayed with you as you stepped onto the stage, ready to perform. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t the same boy you’d once known, but beneath the cold exterior, there was still something there. Something worth holding onto.

The night of your group’s single release party was supposed to be a celebration. The venue buzzed with excitement, filled with industry friends, labelmates, and staff. Your group were the stars of the evening, basking in the glow of your latest success. You’d worked tirelessly for months, and now, you deserved to let loose.

You flitted around the party, sharing laughs, clinking glasses, and posing for photos with everyone who came to congratulate you. But a familiar tension brewed in your chest, one you tried to ignore as much as you could.

It didn’t help when Jungkook and his members arrived.

You didn't expect him to come, even though he’d been the first on your personal list. Yet there he was, standing near the bar in a sleek dark outfit, grey jeans and a black oversized t-shirt that fitted him nicely. His gaze found yours almost instantly, but he didn’t approach. Instead, he stayed rooted in place, sipping his drink and chatting casually with Hoseok.

“Babes,” Sky called, tugging you out of your thoughts. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you lied, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

But the truth was, Jungkook’s presence threw you off. The history between you—complicated and unresolved—lingered like an unspoken storm. His quiet indifference always hurt more than it should have.

As the night wore on, you avoided him, focusing instead on celebrating with your group. You danced, laughed, and tried to push him out of your mind. But when you stepped outside for a moment of air, the cool breeze hit you, and so did the realization that he’d followed you.

“Couldn’t even last the whole party?” Jungkook’s voice carried a teasing edge, but there was a hesitation in his tone.

You scoffed, not turning to face him. “Why are you here, Jungkook?”

“To congratulate you,” he said, stepping closer. “Big night for you and the girls.”

You turned to find him standing a few feet away, hands tucked into his pockets. “Funny,” you muttered. “Didn’t think you cared.”

“I care,” Jungkook stepped closer, his gaze searching yours. “You’ve been avoiding me since the backstage moment.”

You laughed bitterly. “And you’ve been ignoring me for years. Why do you care now?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension was palpable, years of unresolved feelings bubbling to the surface.

“I don’t ignore you, kid.” He said finally, his voice quieter.

“Could’ve fooled me,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Every time I try to talk to you, you shut me out. Every time I think we’re okay, you push me away again.”

His gaze dropped to the ground, and for a moment, he looked almost guilty. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple,” you pressed, the frustration you’d bottled up for so long finally spilling out. “If you don’t want me in your life, just say so. Stop playing this game, Jungkook. I’m tired.”

His head snapped up, eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Kid... I never wanted you out of my life.”

“Stop calling me 'kid'” you demanded, your voice breaking. “Why do you act like I don’t matter?”

“You matter,” he said, stepping closer. “You matter so much it scares the hell out of me.”

The admission hung in the air, heavy and raw. Your heart pounded as he closed the distance between you, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. You pulled away, tears brimming in your eyes.

“This doesn’t fix anything,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

“I know,” he said, his forehead resting against yours. “But I don’t know how to let you go.”

You stepped back, creating space between you. “You need to figure it out, Jungkook. Because I can’t keep doing this.”

The pain in his eyes mirrored your own, but neither of you said another word. You turned and walked back into the party, leaving him alone in the cold night.

"Let me take you home," he said. His tone was strong, not what you were used to. Still, the ride to your flat was silent, you sitting in the front with Jungkook while faint music played on the radio.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white. “Did you really think you mean nothing to me?” You could only sob again, unable to answer him mainly because you were ashamed. When the car stopped, he unbuckled his seat belt and murmured that he would walk you to your door.

Jungkook rocked on his heels as he watched the moonlight highlight the tear-stained cheeks of his best friend's sister. He thought you looked beautiful that night even though you had been crying for the last half hour, your hair hadn't been brushed, and you were digging through your purse like crazy.

Although he would never admit it.

"I got them!" You laughed, waving your keys in the air before bumping your nose with the keychain. You paused as you pushed the key into the door, turning to look Jungkook in the eye for the first time since the party.

"Thank you," he didn't want to hear it. After all, you were just his best friend’s sister.

"It's no big deal."

After a moment, you dropped your bag to the floor and wrapped your arms around the boy's waist, your head resting on his chest as he quickly moved his hand and rubbed your back. He whispered, his chin resting on the top of your head.

"Goodnight."

It’s been two months since the party. When your mom first suggested a getaway, you thought it was the perfect idea to forget Jungkook’s situation. “You’ve been working too hard,” she had said over the phone, her voice tinged with concern. “A little break will do you good. Sunshine, good food, some family time—it’s exactly what you need.”

You’d been reluctant at first. The idea of slowing down felt foreign when your life had been moving at a breakneck pace for so long. But your mom’s persistence—and your own exhaustion—eventually won you over.

“We’ve already rented a villa by the beach,” she added, excitement in her tone. “Oh, and the Jeons will be joining us. It’ll be like the old days!”

The Jeons. You hadn’t heard that name in a while, but the memory of warm summer evenings spent with Jungkook’s family hit you like a wave. Your stomach sank as you considered the possibility of seeing him again.

“Do you mean the whole Jeon family?” you had asked hesitantly, trying to gauge just how much of a challenge this ‘relaxing’ trip would be.

“Of course!” your mom said brightly. “It’s been so long since we’ve all gotten together.”

You hadn’t been able to come up with a convincing excuse to avoid the trip, so you packed your bags, hoping the villa would be big enough to keep a comfortable distance between you and Jungkook.

But the moment you stepped onto the patio of the villa, you knew that hope was futile. He was there, leaning against the railing, staring out at the ocean like he belonged there. And when he turned and saw you, the atmosphere immediately shifted.

His dark eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. You felt his gaze move over you briefly before he turned away, as if dismissing you altogether.

Your brother’s voice broke the tension. “Surprise! Kook managed to clean his schedule.”

You forced a smile, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Great,” you said, your voice flat.

“Hey kid,” he smirked.

“I’m not a kid!” You wanted to scream for help.

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anusualcreates · 2 years ago

Video

youtube

Marble Lazy Susan Side/End Table DIY | How To Make a Lazy Susan Side Table

#youtube #lazy susan #side table #end table #wood working project #diy #wood working #beginner wood working #home improvement #handmade #wood work #anusual creates

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rafedarling · 6 months ago

Text

𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐧’𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬

pairing: dad!drew starkey x mom!reader

summary: you and drew both decided to let rustyn celebrate his first christmas with both sides of your extended family. rustyn, at just six months old, steals everyone’s hearts with his bright smile and lively personality just like his dada.

warning(s): english is not my native language. fluff overload, mentions of breastfeeding and parenting dynamics, family gatherings.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe @emberaurora @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore

“Merry Christmas!” you both called out cheerfully as the door opened.

Your mom appeared in the doorway, her face lighting up at the sight of her daughter, son-in-law, and grandson.

“Oh, Y/N!” she exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug.

“And look at this little one!”

Her eyes softened as she bent down to stroke Rustyn’s cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Mom,” you said warmly, stepping aside so Drew could greet her.

Drew leaned in to give her a quick hug, careful not to jostle the baby carrier.

“Merry Christmas! We’ve been looking forward to this all month.”

“And so have we,” your mom replied, beaming.

“Oh, come in, come in! It’s freezing out there.”

As you stepped inside, the warmth of the house enveloped you, and the sound of laughter and holiday music made your heart swell.

Drew’s family was already mingling with yours, chatting as if they’d known each other forever. It was exactly what you had envisioned when you and Drew decided to bring both families together for Christmas this year.

Your dad approached, his smile wide as he greeted Drew with a handshake that quickly turned into a hug.

“There’s my son-in-law! And my grandson,” he said, his voice filled with pride.

He leaned down to make funny faces at Rustyn, who responded with an excited giggle.

“Say hi to Grandpa,”

Drew said, gently lifting one of Rustyn’s tiny hands to wave. Your dad’s laughter echoed through the room, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sweet interaction between them.

After everyone had exchanged warm greetings, you and Drew found yourselves in the living room, where the Christmas tree stood tall and sparkling. Its ornaments glimmered and a stack of presents was piled neatly underneath.

Brooke, Drew’s sister, knelt down beside you with a brightly wrapped box in her hands.

“This one’s for Rustyn,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“Oh, how exciting!”

You exclaimed, settling Rustyn on your lap so he could reach for the present. Though only six months old, his chubby hands eagerly grabbed at the wrapping paper, his face lighting up with a toothless grin.

“You’ve got this, buddy,”

Drew encouraged, leaning over to help tear a small piece of the paper.

Rustyn squealed in delight as the gift was revealed; a soft, plush dragon. You gasped dramatically, holding it up for him.

“Look at this, Rustyn! Your first dragon! Say thank you to Aunty Brooke.”

Drew chuckled.

“He’s going to love that. I can already tell.”

“Speaking of gifts,”

Drew added, standing up to retrieve a bag from under the tree,

“Rustyn has a little something for everyone, too.”

He began handing out small, thoughtfully wrapped presents you had both prepared. Each gift had been chosen with care, personalized ornaments for the grandparents, matching scarves for the aunts and uncles, and even a little handmade card from Rustyn (with your help, of course).

The room is now fill with nothing but with laughter and gratitude as the gifts were opened.

Soon, the smell of roasted turkey and warm bread wafted in from the dining room. Everyone gathered around the beautifully set table, the centerpiece adorned with holly and candles. Drew helped you into your seat before settling into his own, Rustyn still securely strapped in his baby carrier.

As plates were passed and glasses were raised, Rustyn began to fuss, his face scrunching up as he let out a small cry.

“Oops, someone’s hungry,”

Your mom observed with a gentle smile.

You started to rise from your seat, but Drew placed a hand on your arm, his voice calm and reassuring.

“Babe, I’ve got this. You eat, I’ll calm him down.”

You shook your head with a soft smile.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll feed him. You should enjoy your food too.”

Drew nodded, helping you unbuckle the baby carrier. He handed Rustyn over carefully, his fingers brushing against yours in a way that made your heart flutter.

“Let me at least save your plate,” he said, his eyes warm.

You carried Rustyn to the living room, where the lights were softer and the atmosphere quieter which really help Rustyn calm down.

Sitting on the couch, you cradled him in your arms as you began nursing. The soft light of the Christmas tree lit the room, and the crackle sound of the fireplace added to the cozy ambiance.

About fifteen minutes later, Drew appeared in the doorway, holding your plate, now freshly refilled with warm food. A glass of warm water was balanced in his other hand.

“You didn’t think I’d let you miss Christmas dinner, did you?”

He teased, a playful grin on his face. He plopped down on the floor in front of you, crossing his legs and setting the plate on his lap.

“Now, open up.”

You laughed, shaking your head.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you,”

He countered, spearing a piece of turkey with his fork and holding it up to your lips.

You rolled your eyes but leaned forward to take a bite.

“You know, I could’ve waited until later.”

“And miss the chance to pamper my wife? Never,” he said, leaning forward to kiss your forehead.

Rustyn, now full and content, gave a soft coo, his tiny fingers clutching at the fabric of your sweater. You glanced down at him, your heart swelling with love, before looking back at Drew.

“I think you’re spoiling us both,” you murmured.

Drew’s grin softened into something more tender.

“You two deserve it. Every bit of it.”

After dinner and more chit chat, the family gathered once again in the living room, this time for games and stories. Rustyn, now awake and in a playful mood, was passed around from grandparent to grandparent, each one marveling at his tiny hands and infectious smile.

Brooke pulled out her phone to snap a picture of Drew holding Rustyn, who was tugging at the festive Santa hat on Drew’s head.

“That’s definitely going on the family Christmas card,” she said, laughing.

By the evening, Rustyn had fallen asleep in Drew’s arms, his little head resting against Drew’s chest. You sat beside them on the couch, your head leaning against Drew’s shoulder as you watched the twinkling lights of the tree.

“Merry Christmas, Drew,” you whispered, your voice soft with emotion.

He turned his head, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N. I don’t think it gets better than this.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you reached for his hand.

“Thank you, for being such an amazing husband. And an amazing dad.”

He squeezed your hand, his gaze dropping to Rustyn’s peaceful face.

“Thank you for making me both.”

Drew tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a kiss filled with all the love and promises of the years to come.

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey fanfic #drew x reader #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey blurb #drew starkey x female reader #dad!drew starkey x mom!you #dad!drew starkey x mom!reader #dad!drew starkey

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twilightharry · 3 months ago

Text

mother’s day - harry styles ❁

hi!!! this is my first ever harry fic . i'm feeling inspired today as it's mothers day in the uk and i thought i'd try my luck and write a little blurb. please be kind and i'd really appreciate feedback . not proof read yet lol <3 thank you!

warnings: pregnancy, sfw overall!

contains: fluff, girl dad harry with full tache

word count: 1.7k

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

It was approaching 10:00 AM on Sunday morning when you finally rolled over to check your phone, noticing the curtains had been pulled and the much welcomed sunshine of the morning was spilling into the bedroom. 10:00 AM was a much later wake up than you'd usually get to have on a weekend - typically being woken up by your two little girls who would tiptoe into your room and climb into the bed next to you and your husband but…today was different. It was Mother's Day and the bed was empty.

On your phone, read a text from your husband from two hours earlier:

H 🥰: Morning! Happy Mother's Day. We've just nipped out for a bit but will be back when you're awake. Hope you slept well. I love you x

A little smile graced your lips as you locked your phone and lay back onto the pillows, basking in the soft hush of the empty room. Despite missing the warmth that usually lay beside you, something sweeter replaced it as it wasn't long until you heard soft hushed giggles just beyond the door.

A hurried whisper and an ''Oi! Be quiet you two,'' could be heard from your husband and in response, tiny voices giggled, trying but failing desperately to be quiet.

As funny as it was to listen to the bickering outside your bedroom, you thought you'd end the suffering of your two little girls. ''I'm awake!'' you shouted out and before long the door creaked open and the three people you loved most in the world came in.

Rosie, your eldest of five years old, ran in first, a beaming smile and what looked to be a handmade card in her hand.

''Mummy! You're awake!!'' she said before turning back to your husband, ''I told you she was awake!''

''Yeah, yeah, you were right.'' Your husband, Harry let out, him stepping out from the hall and into the room. Your three old, Lyla was balanced on his hip, a tired smile on her face and in his other hand was a bouquet of the prettiest blue and white flowers you'd ever seen.

He set Lyla down on the edge of the bed before strolling over to you and setting a small kiss on your lips. ''Morning.''

''Morning. You look nice.'' You smiled up at him, getting a good view of the outfit he'd thrown on that morning. A dark blue zip up with his infamous black glasses tucked into the top of it and a cap set on his head.

Laying the bouquet on the bedside table, he grinned back, hands scratching at his facial hair. ''You look nice too.'' which earned a snort from you, knowing there was nothing nice or endearing about whatever bedhead you had on display that morning.

''Mummy!'' Rosie says, pushing in front of her dad so she's stood just at the bedside, ''We made you a card, look! And daddy got you flowers but I picked them!''

''Oh wow! Thank you, my sweet girl.'' You say squeezing her cheeks before taking the card from her.

Opening it, you saw what looked like a moonpig card that you were sure Harry had probably ordered on next day delivery, filled with a collage of pictures of the four of you and some from when you were pregnant with your two babies. Inside the card was what could only be described as sticker vomit, with about twenty flower and heart stickers stuck to the two sides of the card, random lines of glitter pens and a few googly eyes paired together. The squiggly writing of your five year old adorned the page with a cute little message ''To Mummy. We love you lots and lots like jelly tots. Love from Rosie and Lyla and Daddy.'' and in small writing that you knew to be your husbands was in brackets at the bottom (And from baby number 3!). Knowing Harry had most likely held her write and spell out the words warmed your heart even more.

''Aw, that is so cute. Thank you.'' You said giving Rosie a kiss on the forehead before turning to your little one and giving her a kiss too, ''C'mere you.''

''Them bloody moonpig cards cost a fortune now, y'know?'' spoke your husband who was watching the scene of his three favourite girls with fond eyes.

''Poor you, how will your bank account survive that?'' You rolled your eyes joking back with him, ''I'm very thankful you paid the extortionate prices for a personalized card for me.''

''Bloody better be.'' He said with a grin before settling on the corner of the bed next to you, pulling Lyla onto his lap.

''Where'd you three end up going this morning?'' you asked.

''Rosie was desperate to go down to the flower market to pick these and then we just wandered round the park for a bit to make sure you got a lie in. Oh- and we picked up some coffee - there's a coconut flat white downstairs with your name on it.''

''Well aren't you thoughtful.'' You teased and as much as you did love to tease him your heart burst at the thought of him setting his alarm just that bit earlier to take your two girls out just so you had a bit of peace and quiet for once in the mornings.

''I do try.'' he said, poking your side gently before asking, ''Manage to sleep much? Baby three give you any trouble?''

His hand found your hair, brushing the strands of hair that had fallen out from you poorly put up a ponytail that you usually slept in.

''Tossed and turned for a bit but managed to get a good few hours of sleep.''

Lyla had since climbed off his lap and her and Rosie looked a bit fed up as they watched their parents. ''Daddy! Breakfast time.''

Harry looked over at the pair, their smiles reminding him fondly of their mother, ''Alright you two, go and put your aprons on and I'll be down in a second.''

''Ok.'' They screamed out before running out the door but not before shouting a high pitched, ''Bye Mummy!''

''Bye girls.'' You laughed before looking back at your husband with a smile. ''They cause you much grief this morning?''

''They were fine, angels as much as angels can be if they are your children.''

''Oi!'' you laughed swatting his arm, ''Did you dress them in the dark?'' you tease, thinking of Rosie's checkered rainbow jacket that had been paired with brown trousers and Lyla's orange little hat that looked a bit out of place with her outfit.

''Piss off, you. I let them pick their own outfits if you must know.''

''Yeah...looks like it.'' You joke, your eyes settled on his face. His eyes looked a little darkened from the early morning wake up and his mustache looked like it could use a trim but even then all you could think was that he looked unbelievably fit as he always did. Dad life suited him well.

''You're full of it this morning.'' Harry jokes, taking your hands in his own, rubbing his finger over your thumb like he always did whenever his hands would find yours.

''You can't be mean to be today. It's Mother's Day after all.''

''Yeah, yeah excuses.'' He says with a cheeky grin and you can see the excitement despite his exhaustion as he shoots you a knowing glance. ''Wont be long till I have three babies to dress in the morning. More possibility for creativity.''

''If this is your way of asking if we can dress the girls up as Easter bunnies on Easter Sunday then the answer's still no.''

''It wasn't but...now that you've brought it up, I picked up a few things this morning.''

''Bloody hell.'' You laughed with a huff, ''It's like I’m a mother of 3 already with you.''

''Oh shush you. You'll love them. Got some pink bunny ears and a little jumper that says 'Hopping about'... how can you not love that?''

''Quite easily actually.''

''Moody arse.'' He says squeezing your sides before placing a kiss on your mouth and then one on each sides of your face, your nose and then finally one on your forehead.

''Happy Mother's Day. Love you too bits for giving me those perfect girls and another one on the way. Best mummy out there, y'know.''

You clasp his hands in yours, feeling the gentle flutter in your heart for the two daughters you have together but also the new life growing, knowing one thing for sure, even though you didn't think it was possible, your heart was about to grow even fuller.

''Love you lots too.'' You smile up at him. ''You making breakfast?''

''Mmm.'' He says settling another kiss on your lips, his mustache tickling your upper lip slightly. ''Not gonna make itself is it?''

Another snort leaves you, ''What's on the breakfast menu?''

''Was thinking of doing a fry up, the usual stuff, no mushrooms for you obviously.''

''Obviously.''

''And then maybe after breakfast and when the girls go down for a nap, I can have my own Mother's Day breakfast.'' He says wiggling his eyebrows like a teenage boy.

You huff back another laugh, swatting his arm ''Right, out the door, before I get sick.''

''Oh, it wasn't that bad. Poor man only wanting to love on his wife.'' He throws his head back in a laugh as he gets up from the side of the bed, picking up the flowers on his way to put them in some water once he's in the kitchen.

''It was awful, H. Have a bit of decorum on Mother's Day.'' You laugh. ''But seriously, go, before those two start causing havoc in the kitchen. I'll be down in five.''

''Alright, alright, I'm going.'' He says as he turns back to you, ''C'mere one more time.''

He leans down and gives you another gentle kiss on the lips, ''Happy Mother's Day. I love you.'' and then he turns and is out the door before you can even reply.

Your cheeks are hurting from the permanent smile that has been etched on your face since your family clamored in the door not that long ago but you wouldn't have it any other way. And it isn't long before you hear what sounds like a few metal pots falling to the floor in the kitchen and a high pitched ''Silly daddy!'' coming from your eldest but again, you wouldn't have it any other way.

Happy Mother's Day to you, indeed.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #fanfic #love on tour #harry imagine #harry styles fluff #dadrry #harry styles imagine #mustachrry

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skyguytoast · 4 months ago

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𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧’𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞...

warning: some of the headcanons are +18 and explicit

a/n: hii, i really should finish my college essay, but this idea popped into my head and i couldn't help but write... it got a little poetic in some parts, but i hope you enjoy it ;)

• At first, Hayden fought his feelings for you tooth and nail. He was a man of strong morals, someone who always prided himself on doing the right thing. Falling for someone significantly younger than him? That wasn't part of the plan. But then you appeared—carefree, confident, and completely unlike anyone he’d ever met before. You turned his world upside down, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stay away.

• There was no way Hayden was going to make the first move. He convinced himself over and over that what he felt was nothing more than admiration, curiosity at best. But you? You saw right through him. When you asked him out, he tried to laugh it off, say something about just being friends, but he couldn’t resist you. The first few times, it really was just friendly meetups—until one day, it wasn’t.

• When Hayden finally asked you to be his girlfriend, he did it in the most ridiculously romantic way. He had spent weeks planting your favorite flowers in a small garden, waking up early to tend to them himself, getting dirt under his nails, just to make sure they bloomed perfectly. When the moment came, he took your hand and walked you through the rows of blossoms, his voice quiet but sure as he finally admitted, "I don’t want to pretend anymore. I love you."

• He was always building things for you. A bookshelf when he noticed your books piling up, a handmade chair just because he wanted you to have something crafted with his hands. He’d spent hours sanding and staining the wood, never once complaining because he knew how much it would mean to you. Seeing your face light up when you saw what he made? That was his favorite part.

• Late at night, when the world quieted down, Hayden loved nothing more than wrapping his arms around you from behind. Standing out on the balcony, watching the stars, he’d rest his chin on your head and murmur, "You know you’ve completely ruined me, right?" And yet, he wouldn’t change a thing.

• Forget fancy Hollywood outings—Hayden preferred the simple moments. Trips to the farmers’ market where he’d pick out fresh fruit for you, afternoons spent browsing old bookstores, lazy beach days where he’d carry you over the hot sand so you wouldn’t burn your feet. Life was slower, sweeter, and infinitely better with you by his side.

• Bringing you into his world meant bringing you into his daughter’s world too. Blair adored you from the start, and before long, the three of you became inseparable. Family outings to the park, movie nights with popcorn fights, and trips to Disney where Blair would completely ignore Darth Vader because meeting Princess Aurora was way more important.

• At your insistence, Hayden finally made an Instagram. It was supposed to be just for checking out Star Wars fan pages and keeping up with you, but somehow, it turned into something else. His entire feed was filled with you—candid shots he took when you weren’t looking, blurry pictures of your smile, videos of you laughing until you cried. It was less of an Instagram account and more of a personal love letter.

• Hayden was endlessly patient when it came to the public scrutiny. He knew people had opinions—about the age gap, about him dating someone so much younger—but he didn’t care. Every time a snide comment surfaced online, he’d just look at you, smile, and say, "Let them talk. I know what we have."

• And when the world got too loud, he always had a way of making you feel safe. Whether it was holding your hand under the table during interviews, pulling you into a slow dance in the kitchen just to see you smile, or whispering against your skin at night, "I love you, and I’m not going anywhere." Because at the end of the day, you were his peace, and he was yours.

+𝟏𝟖 (𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒)

• Hayden transformed each intimate encounter into a loving tribute, a sacred ritual dedicated solely to you. It was never merely about physical pleasure, but an act of deep devotion and adoration. As he explored your body with tender, reverent hands, he marveled at your beauty, murmuring awestruck words of love and gratitude. Each discovery, from the curve of your hip to the way your skin flushed beneath his touch, filled him with wonder and humility. Hayden knew he was the luckiest man alive to call you his.

• You had the power to make Hayden feel invincible, like a king surveying his kingdom as you took him into the warm, silken depths of your mouth. Your lips and tongue worshipped him with an enthusiasm and affection that set his very soul ablaze. You made his cock jump and throb with renewed vigor, painting him harder than anything. Hayden was no longer a resilient youth, but his desire for you was timeless and unyielding, a force of nature. With every swirl of your tongue and bob of your head, you made him feel like the only man in existence, the center of your universe.

• As your shared climax approached, Hayden's forehead pressed against yours, your breaths mingling, your hearts pounding as one. In the charged silence between gasps and sighs, a thousand unspoken words passed between you - a telepathic dance of love, lust, and ecstasy. Pleasure built upon pleasure, cresting in a tidal wave that crashed over you, binding you in its foaming embrace. In those blissful, electrifying moments, you were not two separate beings, but a single, wonderful sensation.

• Hayden's head lolled back, eyes squeezing shut as your lips enveloped his sensitive flesh, your warm mouth a heavenly cocoon. The feeling of your tongue, your breath, your worshipful suckling - it set his blood alight, making his heart carwheel wildly in his chest. A symphony of masculine cries, low and guttural, filled the air as Hayden surrendered himself to your oral attentions. His fingers tangled almost desperately in your hair, anchoring himself to this earth as you pushed him towards the heavens. Moans and whimpers tumbled from his lips, a fervent, instinctive plea for you to keep going, to never stop, his body trembling with the intensity of his pleasure. The sound of your name fell from his lips like a prayer, a benediction, a desperate entreaty. In that moment, you were his religion, his reason for worship, his everything.

• Though the years had begun to etch their subtle lines upon Hayden's handsome face and his body no longer sprang back to rigid attention as readily as in his youth, his desire for you remained undiminished, a relentless force that laid siege to your senses. He may not match your youthful vigor in speed, but he more than made up for it in skill and ardent devotion. Hayden's tongue, a masterful instrument honed by years, could bring you to the brink of rapture with a single, languid caress. He took his time, savoring every flush, every fold, his lips painting a roadmap of pleasure upon your silken flesh. He feasted on your pussy as if it were the nectar of the gods, his blue eyes flickering up to drink in the sight of your abandon, your back arched, your fingers fisted in his blonde hair. He reveled in the taste, the scent, the very essence of your arousal, losing himself in the act of loving you, of worshipping you with every skillful sweep of his tongue. Slow and steady, he stoked the flames of your desire, his own lust burning hotter with each throaty moan he drew from your lips. Age had not cooled Hayden's passion, but only refined his technique, honing him into a connoisseur of your every fleeting taste and texture. He was a maestro at the podium, orchestrating your pleasure with the singular obsession of a man who knew he was playing for an audience of one - you. And as he pleasured you, he made it his personal mission to grow hard again, to rise to the occasion until he filled you once more, his body a testament to his bottomless, enduring love.

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen x female reader #hayden christensen headcanons #hayden christensen headcanon #hayden christensen fanfiction #hayden christensen fluff #hayden christensen smut

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missmadella · 26 days ago

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Blanket Diplomacy (Bonten x Reader)

Summary: You're the beloved, fiercely protected darling of Bonten — the most dangerous criminal syndicate in Tokyo, led by Mikey and his five closest men: Sanzu, Ran, Rindou, Kakucho, and Kokonoi. They call you princess, darling, and treat you like royalty, keeping you wrapped in warmth, affection, and handmade blankets. But despite the luxury and loyalty, you’re still human — prone to nightmares, needing comfort, craving normalcy.

One day, while seeking a quiet moment alone, you accidentally wander into the middle of a covert Bonten job. Mikey’s cold, dangerous side surfaces, and you’re rushed away in fear — not of the job, but of how distant and terrifying he suddenly felt.

Words: 8207

The room was cold. The kind of cold that wasn’t from air conditioning, but the kind that came from sharp suits, colder eyes, and guns tucked just out of sight.

The infamous Bonten boardroom.

Six of the most dangerous men in Tokyo sat in silence, flanked by sleek walls and the looming presence of power. But for once, the focus of the room wasn’t on them.

It was you.

Wrapped up like a little blanket burrito in soft grey fleece, cradled protectively in Rindou Haitani’s lap — your head tucked beneath his chin, breath rising and falling slowly, peacefully. One of your arms was wedged between his chest and your own body, the other curled up near your face as you slept with the softest frown on your lips.

Completely unaware that a meeting with a rival syndicate was in session.

A low hum came from Rindou’s chest as he adjusted his hold around you slightly, tucking a piece of the blanket closer to your cheek. His fingers threaded gently through your hair, like muscle memory.

“Don’t move too much,” Ran muttered beside him, a teasing smirk on his lips. “You’ll wake princess.”

“She stayed up waiting for us last night,” Rindou murmured. “Didn’t want to sleep until we were all back.”

Kokonoi, seated across the table, sighed through his nose without looking up from his tablet. “That’s because she worries too much. Even though we’re the ones keeping her safe.”

“She just loves you dumbasses,” Sanzu chimed in, flicking ashes into a crystal tray. “Especially you, Koko. You and your little stress wrinkles.”

Koko didn’t look up. “I moisturize.”

The rival gang sitting across the room looked unsure whether they had stepped into a mafia negotiation… or a soap opera. One of them made the mistake of letting his gaze linger too long on you, his brow furrowing slightly — as if he couldn’t quite process why the crown jewel of Tokyo’s most dangerous organization was asleep during a war meeting.

The temperature in the room dropped immediately.

Mikey, at the head of the table, didn’t even glance up from where he sat. But his voice cut through the silence like a scalpel.

“Don’t look at her.”

The man blinked. “I—I wasn’t—”

Sanzu smiled without humor. “You were. And I don’t like that look on your face.”

Ran stretched his arms behind his head lazily, crossing one ankle over the other.

“See, princess is off-limits. You want a bullet buffet, feel free to keep staring.”

Rindou didn’t say anything — just tightened his arm around your waist. You shifted gently in your sleep, murmuring something unintelligible, your nose nuzzling into his collarbone. He softened immediately, one hand cupping the back of your head.

“Shhh, darling,” he whispered, voice a breath. “Just sleep.”

Across the table, Kakucho’s lip twitched in something close to amusement. His arms were folded, his presence calm and collected — but the moment anyone even looked at you wrong, his dark eyes turned feral.

“She’s not a prop. She’s our peace. Keep her that way.”

The rival gang leader raised both hands slightly in a poor attempt at pacification. “No disrespect intended. We were just surprised.”

“You should stop being surprised,” Kokonoi muttered. “And start talking. You’ve got fifteen minutes left before our princess wakes up, and trust me… she doesn’t like strangers.”

“Especially the kind who talk too loud,” Sanzu added, smiling with teeth.

___________________________________________________________________________

Time passed.

The meeting continued, half-heartedly. Bonten didn’t really care what this other gang had to offer. The important part — the only part — was that you were still asleep, safe and warm in one of their arms.

When you finally stirred, it was gradual. Your brows knit together as you squirmed slightly, the blanket slipping down just a little.

“Mm… ‘Dou…?”

Rindou immediately leaned in, brushing your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Right here, sweetheart.”

Your eyes blinked open slowly, lashes fluttering. You looked dazed and warm and confused by the soft murmurs around you and the dim lighting. “S’it still morning?”

“Barely,” Mikey said, lips curling around his lollipop. “Meeting’s almost over.”

You sat up a little — still swaddled — and looked around, only then noticing the unfamiliar suits across from you. “Who…?”

Sanzu leaned forward with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Just some people who don’t matter. Go back to sleep, princess. We’ll be done soon.”

But you were already awake now, still groggy but aware enough to feel the weight of six eyes on you — all fond, all gentle.

Ran chuckled and reached over to flick a finger at the tip of your nose. “Cutest security blanket we’ve ever had. You stole the whole meeting, y’know?”

“Did not…” you mumbled.

“You did,” Kokonoi said. “And you didn’t even have to say a word.”

Kakucho finally stood, pushing his chair in. “Meeting’s over. We’ve heard enough.”

Sanzu followed suit, stretching like a cat. “Finally. I’m starving. Princess, what are you in the mood for?”

You blinked, still half-tucked in Rindou’s lap. “Waffles?”

“That’s my girl,” Ran said with a grin.

“Waffles it is,” Mikey said, already texting someone. “And someone tell Takeomi to get her a new blanket. That one’s too thin.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The meeting room emptied quickly after you woke up — a silent command passed between the six Bonten executives. The moment you blinked sleepily at the unfamiliar faces across the table, the negotiation was done.

Their darling was awake. Priorities shifted.

You barely had time to process the abrupt end of the meeting before Kakucho was holding your blanket-bundled form gently by the elbow, guiding you to your feet like you were made of glass.

“C’mon, princess,” he said, voice warm and deep. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

You yawned into the blanket, trailing after them on socked feet like a sleepy kitten. Still drowsy, still wrapped up like a burrito, you followed your men down the dim hallway of Bonten HQ.

You were barely aware of where you were being taken until you smelled it: warm syrup, toasted batter, powdered sugar, and strawberries.

Waffles.

Your eyes widened slightly as you stepped into one of the private lounges, now transformed into an impromptu breakfast suite. A low table was covered in your favorite foods — waffles stacked high, whipped cream in elegant bowls, sliced fruit, warm pastries, fresh juice, and two different syrups.

“You remembered,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

“Of course we remembered,” Sanzu said, stepping behind you to gently pluck the blanket off your shoulders — only to immediately place a thicker, fluffier one around you. “We’re not animals.”

Ran chuckled. “Says the guy who once bit someone in a meeting.”

“I was in a mood,” Sanzu replied lazily. “Don’t test me. I’ll do it again.”

Mikey was already seated on the sofa, stretching out like a bored cat, plate in hand. “Come here, darling,” he said, patting the spot beside him. “We saved the warm waffles for you.”

You trudged over, letting yourself fall into the seat beside him, legs curled up. Mikey immediately draped an arm around your shoulders, drawing you against him like you belonged there (you did).

Kokonoi handed you a fork with a quiet, “Strawberry on the left, vanilla syrup in the middle. Use the one in the white bottle, the gold one’s too sweet.”

He was already back on his tablet a second later, but not before gently brushing your hair back from your face. “You’ve got blanket hair, princess.”

You puffed your cheeks. “You’re lucky I’m too sleepy to fight back.”

Koko smirked. “I’d win anyway.”

Rindou sat down at your feet, leaning against the couch with a bottle of juice in hand. “Drink this,” he said, passing it up to you. “You barely drank anything before the meeting.”

You took a sip, and he watched you with a satisfied little hum, leaning his head against your thigh like it was his favorite pillow.

“Comfortable?” you teased.

“Mmm. Very.”

Ran slid in next to Mikey, stealing a strawberry off your plate. “Y’know, I like when you nap during meetings. We all behave better.”

“I missed everything important,” you murmured.

Kakucho, seated in a plush armchair nearby, shook his head. “Nothing more important than you resting. You’ve been stressed lately.”

You blinked. “I have?”

“You chew your lip when you’re overthinking,” Mikey murmured beside you.

“You click your pen when you’re anxious,” Rindou added.

“You hold your phone like you’re waiting for bad news,” Kakucho said gently.

You paused. “You guys… notice all that?”

They all gave you a look. Six of them. Deadly, powerful, merciless in the eyes of the world. But here, in this moment, with you? Just six men hopelessly in love with one sleepy girl.

“Of course we do,” Mikey said, voice quiet. “You’re our world.”

Your throat tightened slightly, warmth blooming in your chest.

Sanzu stood up and disappeared for a moment, then returned with something behind his back.

“Got you something,” he said, stepping in front of you. “Close your eyes, princess.”

You arched a brow but obeyed. A second later, something soft and cool was draped around your shoulders — not a blanket this time, but a cashmere shawl. Elegant. Expensive. Stitched with your initials in the corner.

You opened your eyes slowly. “Sanzu…”

“Told you the other one was too thin,” he muttered. “And Koko wouldn’t shut up about thread count.”

“I just want the best for her,” Kokonoi said simply, not looking up from his tablet.

Your hands gripped the shawl tightly, heart soft and fragile with affection.

“Thank you,” you said, voice thick with emotion.

Ran leaned back and smiled lazily. “Told you she’d get all emotional.”

“You would too,” Kakucho said, “if someone gave you a blanket that cost more than your car.”

“I don’t have a car.”

“You crashed it,” Rindou reminded him.

“Semantics.”

You laughed — really laughed — and it made them all pause for a brief, quiet second. Because that sound? That soft, happy laugh?

That was worth more than all their territory, all their money, and every deal they’d ever made.

Mikey glanced around the room, watching his family and his girl, all together.

“Meeting’s officially adjourned,” he murmured. “Time to spoil our princess.”

___________________________________________________________________________

You had just finished your second plate of waffles and were mid-yawn when your phone buzzed on the coffee table.

📱**[Bestie💗]** calling…

You perked up immediately. “Oh! It’s her—be right back!”

Before any of the boys could say a word, you answered the call and stood up in one motion, already pacing toward the far side of the lounge with the phone to your ear, trailing your new cashmere shawl behind you like a royal train.

“Hey, babe!” you greeted, voice instantly brighter. “Oh my god, you won’t believe today—yes, I was asleep during a real mafia meeting, don’t even judge me…”

Back on the couch, six pairs of eyes followed you as you made gentle figure eights around the room.

Ran leaned back with a lazy grin. “There she goes.”

“She’s gonna wear a groove into the floor,” Sanzu muttered, smirking as he twirled a toothpick between his teeth.

“Should’ve taken the phone away,” Kokonoi murmured without looking up from his tablet.

“She sounds happy,” Rindou said softly, watching the way you gestured with your hands while talking. “I like it.”

Mikey just hummed, sipping his drink while his eyes tracked your every move like a lazy cat watching a wind-up toy.

“...and then Rindou had me wrapped up like a human burrito,” you were saying on the call, laughing. “No, I’m serious. Like full-on tucked-in and everything. You’d think I was a pet or something—”

You turned in another circle, almost stepping over Sanzu’s foot. He moved it lazily at the last second, chuckling.

Then you walked right past Kakucho, still seated in his usual armchair.

He didn’t say anything at first.

Just watched you walk by for the third time — trailing your shawl, phone pressed to your cheek, giggling softly to your best friend, occasionally twirling in place — completely unaware of how every single one of them had paused just to watch you glow.

Distracting didn’t even begin to cover it.

Finally, Kakucho exhaled a quiet breath.

“That’s enough, princess.”

Before you could react, a strong arm curled around your waist mid-step, and with almost no effort at all, Kakucho pulled you gently down into his lap.

You let out a surprised squeak, nearly dropping your phone.

“Wait! I—Kaku!”

“Sit still,” he said against your ear, voice low and steady. “You’re too distracting.”

You blinked, flustered, shifting slightly as he adjusted you comfortably against him. His arm slid securely around your waist, the other resting across your thighs, locking you in place. His palm pressed warmly against your stomach, steady and sure.

“Talk,” he said simply. “But stay right here.”

You swallowed your bashful smile and brought the phone back to your ear, your voice quieter now. “Sorry—yeah, I just got… picked up.”

“By who?” your friend asked with a laugh.

“Kakucho,” you mumbled, cheeks warm.

“He’s the serious one, right?”

You glanced sideways at his expression. Focused. Calm. But there was a faint curve at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah,” you said. “But he’s sweet.”

Kakucho pressed a light kiss to your shoulder, then leaned forward and murmured in your ear:

“Tell her you’re the most spoiled girl in the world.”

Your breath hitched, laughter bubbling up. “Did you hear that? He said I’m the most spoiled—!”

“That’s because you are,” Ran called from across the room, smirking.

“Tell her you’re sitting on royalty’s lap,” Sanzu added. “The prettiest one in the room.”

Mikey raised his cup in mock-toast. “To our princess.”

Rindou reached up to flick the edge of your shawl. “She’s got a whole entourage right now.”

Kokonoi finally looked up from his screen and deadpanned, “She’s surrounded by six men, a cashmere blanket, and a golden waffle spoon. If she says she’s not spoiled, she’s lying.”

You buried your face in your free hand, laughing too hard to speak, while your friend howled on the other end.

Eventually, you lowered the phone, still breathless. “Okay, okay—she has to go. I’ll call her back later.”

You ended the call, and the room fell into a warm, easy silence.

Kakucho’s voice rumbled behind you. “Feel better now?”

You nodded, relaxing against his chest. “Mmhmm. Just needed to talk it out. She makes me feel normal.”

“You are normal,” he said, brushing your hair back. “You just live like royalty.”

You sighed happily, melting into his lap.

Ran grinned. “We should just start calling her Empress.”

“Already do,” Sanzu muttered, stretching out like a satisfied cat.

Kokonoi checked his watch. “We’ve got a free afternoon. Let’s take her shopping. Or to that gallery she keeps hinting at.”

Mikey stood, adjusting his jacket. “If she wants it, she gets it.”

You blinked up at them, heart full, mind fuzzy from sugar and affection. “You guys really don’t know how to not spoil me, huh?”

Kakucho kissed the top of your head.

“Nope. Not even a little.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The clock blinked 2:13 AM in red across the kitchen wall. The Bonten executives were gathered around the long island counter, half-dressed in sweats and unbuttoned shirts, their late-night meeting less business and more murmured strategy talk, glowing laptop screens, and cups of black coffee.

Mikey sat at the head of the table, legs pulled up in the chair, hood drawn over his head as he scrolled through reports silently. Kakucho was leaned against the counter, arms crossed. Sanzu lounged on the barstool, still barefoot, still fidgeting. Ran and Rindou had just come in from the balcony, hair windswept, shirts untucked. Koko, of course, hadn’t left his tablet all night.

They were mid-conversation about a new alliance when everything fell quiet at once — not because of something said, but because they felt it.

A shift in the air.

A presence.

All six pairs of eyes turned toward the hallway entrance.

And there you were.

Barefoot. Dressed in one of Mikey’s black hoodies, way too big. Hair messy. Shoulders small. You stood frozen in the doorway of the kitchen, eyes a little too wide, hands fisting the hem of the hoodie. Not speaking. Just standing there, breathing soft, blinking like you weren’t sure if this was real.

“…Darling?” Kakucho was the first to speak, voice gentle.

You blinked again. Then, quietly, in a voice small enough to break them:

“I had a nightmare…”

That was all it took.

Chairs scraped back. Someone stood so fast their cup clattered. Sanzu was already walking over. Mikey straightened in his seat. Koko locked his screen. Ran and Rindou stepped forward like they were ready to fight the dream itself.

You just stood there, still not moving, until Sanzu reached you first and crouched slightly to look into your face. His hands hovered over your arms, unsure whether to touch.

“What was it, princess?” he asked, softer than usual.

You just shook your head. “I don’t want to sleep alone.”

Kakucho was at your side instantly, his hand pressing between your shoulder blades.

“You won’t,” he promised. “Never.”

Mikey’s voice drifted in, quiet but final. “Come here.”

You let them guide you in — Rindou took your hand; Kakucho pressed you gently forward. Sanzu rubbed your back with slow, grounding circles.

You were sat on a high stool between Ran and Koko, who immediately placed one of his cardigans over your lap like a blanket. Mikey passed you a warm cup of tea he hadn’t even made until he saw you.

“Drink this. You’re shaking,” he said, not unkindly.

“I didn’t even notice…” you mumbled, voice soft.

“Nightmares’ll do that,” Ran said, brushing your hair back. “Want to tell us what happened?”

You hesitated. Then nodded slowly.

“I… I dreamed you all got hurt. I was waiting, but none of you came home.” You bit your lip, hard. “There was blood. Sirens. And I was alone in the house. I kept checking my phone. No one answered…”

Sanzu exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “Shit.”

“No wonder you came lookin’ for us,” Rindou murmured, frowning.

Koko gave your knee a squeeze. “That’s not happening, sweetheart. Ever.”

You nodded slowly, but your fingers still trembled around the cup.

Mikey stood up.

Not quickly. Not dramatically.

Just… deliberately. Quiet and certain.

“Come with me,” he said.

You followed without a word, and the others weren’t far behind.

___________________________________________________________________________

Mikey sat on the edge of the massive bed and opened his arms. “Here.”

You climbed in without hesitation, and he tucked you into his chest like you were made to fit there. A heartbeat later, Kakucho slid in on your other side. Then Rindou laid behind you, curling his arm around your waist. Sanzu sprawled across the bottom edge like a lazy cat, his hand resting on your ankle protectively. Ran climbed in on Mikey’s side, legs tangled with his, casually brushing his knuckles against your knee. Koko came last, placing your phone and a water bottle on the nightstand before flicking off the light and crawling into the far end — close enough to keep watch.

You were completely surrounded.

“You okay now?” Mikey asked, thumb brushing the side of your face.

You nodded sleepily, tears dried now, heart slower.

Rindou murmured, “Still scared?”

You buried your face into Mikey’s hoodie. “Not anymore.”

They were so warm. You couldn’t even tell whose hand was in your hair anymore. Or whose foot was tucked against your calf. But it didn’t matter.

You were theirs.

And they were all here.

No sirens. No silence. No blood. Just breath, warmth, and six voices keeping you safe with whispers like shields.

“Sleep, princess.” “We’re right here.” “Not going anywhere.” “You’re safe now.” “Sweet dreams, darling.” “Always with you.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The morning sun leaked through the tall blackout curtains in golden slivers, cutting across tangled limbs, tousled hair, and slow, even breathing.

You woke in the center of it all — nestled between Mikey’s arm and Kakucho’s chest, with Rindou’s hand still resting lightly on your waist. Sanzu was at the foot of the bed, one leg hanging off the side, snoring softly. Ran and Koko had taken the edges, sprawled like lazy guards on a velvet battlefield.

You barely moved, just let out a quiet breath and smiled into the stillness.

No nightmare. No fear. Just them.

Eventually, someone stirred beside you.

“Mm… good morning, princess.” It was Kakucho — low voice, husky with sleep, eyes still half-lidded as he pressed a kiss to your temple. Mikey hummed on the other side, a silent nuzzle into your hair.

“I feel better,” you whispered, barely loud enough for the room. “A lot better. Thank you…”

Rindou cracked one eye open. “You sure?” “Positive,” you smiled.

You sat up carefully, limbs reluctant to leave the warmth. “You all have a long day today, right?”

Ran groaned into his pillow. “Don’t remind me.”

You smiled softly. “Then while you’re busy, I might go meet one of my friends at that new garden café near the station. Just to clear my head.”

“Want an escort?” Koko murmured, already checking his phone.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine. It’s public, daytime, super chill. I’ll text you if anything comes up, I promise.”

Mikey finally opened both eyes. “You sure you feel okay?”

You nodded, and he just stared for a moment, like he was checking for any crack in your armor. Satisfied, he nodded once, slow and final. “Alright. Go enjoy it.”

You kissed a few cheeks before you left, promising not to wander far, and texted the group chat once you arrived safely.

___________________________________________________________________________

The café was pretty. Too pretty to feel like a trap.

White parasols lined the patio, soft music floated through the air, and sunlight filtered gently through the wisteria vines coiled along the trellises. Your drink—an iced rose tea with honey—rested untouched on the table. You were too focused on the man beside you to even taste it.

His cologne was sharp. His cologne was close.

You shifted slightly in your chair, trying to put more distance between you and the stranger who had decided to join your peaceful catch-up with your best friend. He hadn’t been invited. He just saw you two, made a comment about how “girls like you shouldn’t sit alone,” and pulled up a chair like he belonged.

From the moment he sat down, something in your gut twisted.

Your friend had tried to explain who he was—“Oh, I think we had a class together, maybe?”—but it barely helped. He wasn’t paying attention to her. He was watching you, unblinking, like a fox cornering something soft and unaware.

“So… you from around here? You look too pretty for this neighborhood.”

You offered a tight smile. “No, I’m visiting. Just spending the day out while my boyfriend works.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” His smile stretched too wide. “Bet he’s not half as attentive as me.”

Your lips pressed together. You tried to keep it polite. Tried to stay civil.

“I’m very much taken,” you said, slowly and clearly. “He and I live together.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun. Or do you follow him around like a puppy?”

You flinched.

Your friend tried to laugh it off, uneasy. “Hey, come on. She said she’s taken.”

He waved her off and leaned closer to you—shoulder now barely a few inches from yours.

That’s when your hands began to tremble slightly.

Your fingers slid under the table, unlocked your phone.

To: Bonten 💀💬

[You]: can u guys come [You]: i don’t like this guy [You]: he won’t stop [You]: he’s making me really uncomfortable

You stared at the screen, barely breathing, heart thudding in your chest.

Sanzu replied first.

[Sanzu💉]: on my way. don’t move.

And right after:

[Koko💸]: with him. be there in 6.

Your hand dropped into your lap. You took a deep breath and forced a smile to your lips again.

The guy didn’t notice. He was still staring.

“You know, you’re not even reacting like someone in a relationship. Most girls would be texting their man to check in. You didn’t even look at your phone until just now.”

You held back the urge to laugh bitterly. Oh, you were checking in. He just didn’t know who was coming.

___________________________________________________________________________

The bell above the patio gate gave a delicate chime.

Sanzu was the first to walk in, his usual unhinged chaos hidden under a deceptively relaxed stroll. Tousled hair pulled into a messy half-knot, pale pink hoodie layered under a lightweight tactical jacket, his mismatched eyes scanned the patio like a hawk mid-hunt.

Beside him, Kokonoi walked with sharp elegance—black dress pants, a cream shirt with the sleeves rolled and unbuttoned just enough to hint at expensive chains beneath. His platinum blonde hair glinted under the sun, but there was nothing warm in his expression.

They saw you instantly.

You were sitting stiffly, shoulders curled in, smile frozen.

And the man beside you?

Still leaning in. Still talking.

Koko’s jaw locked.

Sanzu’s eyes narrowed.

Without a word, they crossed the patio.

You noticed them just as they approached your table—and the relief that washed over you nearly buckled your spine.

Sanzu walked up behind your chair like he’d been there the whole time. His hand slid over your shoulder, warm and grounding, and his voice dropped into your ear with an intimacy that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise:

“Hey, baby. You okay?”

The guy across from you blinked.

You melted instantly into Sanzu’s touch, turning your face slightly to press your cheek against his hand. “I am now.”

Sanzu leaned down and kissed the top of your head, his grip tightening ever so slightly on your shoulder.

Kokonoi didn’t say a word. He slid into the seat beside you, one arm resting lazily behind your chair as his fingers tapped once, twice, three times against the table.

“Mind introducing your… guest?”

You didn’t have to.

The guy looked between them—one, tattooed and smiling like a wolf. The other, pristine and cold, like a god of finance sent to end careers.

“I didn’t realize she was—” the man started.

“She told you,” Kokonoi interrupted coolly. “Several times.”

You nodded. “More than once. I even said I was uncomfortable. I told you to back off.”

“I was just being friendly,” he said defensively, laugh shaky. “I wasn’t being weird or anything—”

“You sat next to her uninvited, ignored her boundary, and kept running your mouth,” Sanzu said, still smiling. “That’s plenty weird to me.”

Kokonoi leaned forward just a little, resting his elbows on the table like he was discussing an investment. “Do you know who she belongs to?”

The man blinked. “What?”

“She’s ours,” Sanzu said simply, brushing a lock of your hair back. “All of ours.”

Your friend’s eyes widened. She’d heard rumors about your “boyfriend’s business.” But seeing it up close was something else entirely.

“W-Wait, you guys are… you’re Bonten—”

Koko smiled faintly. “Took you long enough.”

“I didn’t know!” the man said quickly. “I swear—if I’d known—”

Sanzu laughed once—sharp and humorless.

“That’s the point, genius. You shouldn’t have needed to.”

Then Sanzu stood fully and tilted his head.

“Now get the fuck out of her sight before I make it so you can’t see anything at all.”

The guy shoved back from the table, chair legs screeching, stumbling as he tried to get up. He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t try to explain again. He didn’t even look at you. He just left.

Your hands were shaking again.

Sanzu noticed instantly and moved to crouch beside your chair, placing both his hands over yours.

“Hey. You’re safe now.”

You swallowed hard, throat tight. “I didn’t want to bother you guys…”

“You’re not a bother,” Kokonoi said immediately. “You texted us. That’s all we needed.”

“I tried to keep it casual, but he just wouldn’t leave—”

“You don’t have to justify it.” Sanzu’s voice turned unexpectedly soft. “You shouldn’t have to defend your own boundaries. Not to him. Not to anyone.”

You nodded slowly, still trying to blink away the pressure behind your eyes.

“I just wanted to have a nice day out…”

“And you still will,” Kokonoi said, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “We’re staying.”

“Wait—you don’t have to—”

Sanzu slid into the seat beside you and grinned. “Too late. I already ordered a lavender latte on the way here. Might as well get something out of the trip.”

Your friend gave you an apologetic smile. “I… didn’t realize he was like that. I’m so sorry.”

You gave her a small, tired nod. “It’s okay. You didn’t know either.”

Kokonoi flagged down the waitress, who recognized him instantly. “We’ll be needing a new drink for her. That one’s probably ruined.”

“Coming right up,” the waitress said quickly, her eyes darting between the three of you.

When she left, Sanzu rested his cheek against your shoulder, arms wrapped loosely around your waist under the table.

“Next time, just take a picture of the guy and send it with the message,” he said casually. “Saves us time.”

You laughed for real that time. It came out cracked but honest.

“I’m serious,” he grinned. “We'll even make a little sticker collection: ‘Men Who Learned the Hard Way.’”

Kokonoi chuckled. “Sanzu…”

You turned to look at both of them and whispered, “Thank you.”

They each looked at you for a beat—then Koko spoke, quiet and firm.

“You’re not just our darling when things are calm. You’re our responsibility always.”

“And our princess,” Sanzu added. “Don’t forget that part.”

___________________________________________________________________________

By the time you were back home, the tension had finally started to ebb from your shoulders. You hadn’t realized how tightly you’d been wound until Sanzu kicked off his shoes and all but demanded:

“Up. Come on, arms out.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I’m putting you in pajamas,” he said without an ounce of irony. “The soft pink ones with the stupid little ribbon. Those are your comfort pair.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, letting Kokonoi take your bag and Sanzu pull you toward the bedroom like an overly affectionate golden retriever who happened to be heavily armed.

“Sit,” Koko said softly once you were in the bedroom. He handed you a glass of water and gently helped you peel off your jacket. “You were shaking the whole ride home. You’re allowed to feel upset.”

“I know. I just… hate that it got to me,” you whispered. “It’s so stupid.”

Kokonoi knelt in front of you, brows drawn. “It’s not stupid.”

Sanzu reappeared with your pajama set and dropped it dramatically across your lap. “What is stupid is that guy thinking we wouldn’t find out.”

“Or that he had a chance,” Koko added dryly, brushing a knuckle along your cheek.

You changed slowly, under their soft-eyed watch, and by the time Sanzu tucked the blanket around you on the couch, you finally allowed your body to relax. The boys were moving around you — Koko lighting one of your favorite scented candles, Sanzu bringing you a snack plate that looked like it belonged in a spa — all while they kept up a soft chatter to keep your mind distracted.

And when you finally curled up against Sanzu’s chest with Kokonoi sitting on the other side, brushing your hair back rhythmically?

You almost fell asleep.

Not because you were tired. But because this was what safety felt like.

___________________________________________________________________________

You’d fallen asleep for real by the time the rest of the boys got home. Curled up on the couch with your legs draped across Sanzu’s lap and your head resting on Kokonoi’s shoulder, a soft blanket pulled up to your chin.

Mikey was the first to walk in, quiet as ever, his gaze falling immediately to the trio on the couch.

“She okay?”

Kokonoi nodded slightly. “Better now. Some idiot tried bothering her while she was out today.”

Ran, who had just entered with a lollipop in his mouth, frowned. “What kind of bothering?”

“The kind where Sanzu almost broke a ceramic mug on his face,” Koko said mildly.

“Almost,” Sanzu added with a smirk.

Rindou’s face hardened. “Did she call for help?”

“She messaged the group chat. Koko and I were closest,” Sanzu replied, stroking your shin absently under the blanket. “She handled it well. Told him no. Told him again. He didn’t care.”

Mikey’s jaw clenched.

Kakucho came in last, and when he saw your peaceful face, something behind his eyes softened.

“She shouldn’t have to call anyone,” he murmured. “People should just know.”

Ran moved toward the couch, crouching in front of you and brushing a stray hair off your cheek. “You sleeping okay now, princess?”

You stirred slightly but didn’t wake.

Kokonoi gave a tiny nod. “Better than earlier. But… yeah. It shook her.”

“She said it made her feel gross,” Sanzu added more quietly, his tone darkening. “She kept trying to laugh it off, like she was overreacting.”

“She never overreacts,” Kakucho said sharply. “Especially not with us.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Mikey spoke. “Tomorrow morning, we handle it. The guy, his family, any employer he’s got. He won’t touch her world again.”

Rindou cracked his knuckles. “I want in.”

“You’re not the only one,” Ran added coolly.

“Let me be the one to speak to her when she wakes up,” Kakucho said, already moving to sit beside you at the other end of the couch. “She’ll want calm. I’ll tell her we’ve got it handled.”

“Good,” Mikey nodded.

Kokonoi stood and stretched. “For now, let’s keep it down. She deserves one quiet night.”

They stayed up with you in shifts after that — Ran brought you tea when you stirred from a light dream, Rindou tucked the blanket higher when you kicked it off. Mikey never said much, but every time you moved in your sleep, his eyes followed you.

Because even though you were fast asleep — you were still their darling.

And no one disrespected what Bonten loved.

___________________________________________________________________________

Morning light filtered through gauzy curtains, painting soft golden patterns across the couch where you stirred awake. It smelled like vanilla and clean linen, your blanket still tucked snugly around you. Someone had slipped a pillow under your head. A heavier warmth — familiar, solid — rested on your legs.

As you blinked away sleep, your eyes landed on Kakucho, quietly seated on the floor beside you, reading something on his phone. His eyes softened the second he noticed you.

“Good morning, princess,” he said, gentle and low. “Sleep okay?”

You nodded sleepily, rubbing your eyes. “Yeah. Better than yesterday.”

He shifted closer and placed his hand over your ankle, thumb brushing soothing circles. “I’m glad. You did really well yesterday. We’re all proud of you.”

“…For what?”

“For saying no. For calling us. For trusting us.” His voice grew firmer. “You don’t owe anyone politeness when you’re uncomfortable. But you still handled it calmly.”

Your chest ached a little — not from sadness, but from how deeply his words wrapped around your heart. Warm. Safe. Solid.

Before you could say anything else, footsteps padded in — barefoot, light.

Ran.

He leaned down and kissed your forehead. “She’s up?”

Kakucho nodded.

Then came Rindou, rubbing sleep from his eyes, followed by Kokonoi, already dressed like he had three business meetings and a yacht launch.

You blinked at them, a little overwhelmed. “All of you slept here?”

Kokonoi grinned. “Of course. We take shifts. You think we’d leave our darling alone after that?”

“And I made sure nobody talked too loud near your door,” Sanzu added, entering with a tray of pastries and two mugs. “Mikey banned noise, I enforced it.”

You smiled, soft and sleepy, as Sanzu placed a croissant in your hand and kissed your temple.

“Where is Mikey?” you asked.

“On the terrace,” Kakucho replied. “He didn’t want to crowd you right away.”

Just then, Mikey appeared — silent and unreadable as ever — but his fingers tangled into yours when he sat beside you. His head rested lightly against yours for a moment, his breath warm against your cheek.

“You’re safe,” he murmured. “And you always will be.”

You squeezed his hand. “Thank you. All of you.”

“We handled it,” Rindou said casually, popping a grape into his mouth.

“…The guy?”

They all exchanged a brief look.

Kokonoi leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore. He won’t come near you. Or your friends. Or the street you were on.”

“He still breathing?” you asked half-joking.

Ran gave a lopsided smirk. “Breathing, yeah. Talking back to women? Not so much.”

Sanzu added with a sweet smile, “He’s learning respect. Quietly. Privately.”

You sighed — not with fear, but with relief.

“Good.”

Kakucho reached for the edge of the blanket you were still wrapped in, tugging it gently. “Now. Show us your hoodie?”

You blinked. “My…?”

“Crochet,” Mikey said quietly. “You’ve been working on it for weeks.”

“Yeah,” Kokonoi added. “We want to see what’s been stealing your attention from us.”

You laughed, suddenly bashful, and sat up to pull the carefully folded hoodie out from a nearby basket. It was soft lavender, stitched carefully with little star patterns and a white trim. The hood had floppy bunny ears — just like they remembered you mentioning you wanted.

You unfolded it across your lap.

“I haven’t finished the pockets yet,” you mumbled, brushing a thumb across the seam.

But the boys were already moving closer.

Ran whistled. “That’s actually adorable.”

“It’s more than adorable,” Kakucho said, touching the sleeve delicately. “It’s beautiful.”

“You made this?” Sanzu said like he couldn’t believe it. “With thread?”

“You should sell these,” Kokonoi muttered, already calculating in his head. “We could design a brand—”

“I’m not mass-producing them, Koko,” you giggled.

Rindou gently tugged one of the bunny ears and chuckled. “This is so you.”

“You could wear it today,” Mikey suggested. “Comfort looks good on you.”

You ducked your head, suddenly flustered by all the attention.

And just like that, one by one — they leaned in.

Ran kissed you first, slow and warm. A hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

Then Rindou followed, pressing a kiss right on the corner of your lips, a little smug.

Kokonoi kissed you on the lips too, careful and exact, like he was memorizing the taste of your smile.

Sanzu’s kiss came with a little hum, his hand holding your face gently like you were something rare.

Kakucho leaned in with reverence, like he wanted you to feel it long after he pulled away.

And Mikey… Mikey kissed you last, slow and silent, his eyes locked on yours the whole time.

When they finally gave you space to breathe, you were flushed and smiling, eyes wide with love.

“You guys didn’t have to—”

“We wanted to,” Sanzu interrupted. “You’re ours.”

“Our darling,” Ran added.

“Our princess,” Rindou grinned.

“Our only exception,” Kokonoi whispered.

Mikey leaned his forehead against yours again and closed his eyes.

“Just keep letting us protect you.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The sky was overcast, the city wrapped in a quiet tension that matched the pressure behind your eyes. You’d only wanted a break — a quick coffee run, a little walk, something normal. The weight of the past few days had started to creep up your spine again, and you thought maybe, just maybe, a moment alone would settle your nerves.

You stepped into the familiar café near Omotesando, the one with ivy curling over the back windows and a barista who always wrote a little heart on your cup.

What you didn’t know — what none of them expected — was that the café’s alley exit sat directly across from an old building Bonten had repurposed for “quiet” conversations.

And that today, Bonten wasn’t being quiet.

Inside the warehouse, Mikey sat at the head of the table, his legs crossed neatly, black gloves on.

Kakucho leaned against the far wall, watching the door.

Sanzu stood behind the mark — a sniveling middleman who thought double-crossing Bonten was a “smart pivot.” His lip bled. His hands shook.

Outside, Kokonoi was running comms, Ran and Rindou watching the alley from the side entrance, bored and amused.

Until they saw you.

___________________________________________________________________________

“Shit.” Rindou straightened, nearly knocking over his earpiece. “Koko. She’s here.”

Kokonoi froze mid-sentence. “What?”

“She’s in the f*cking alley. Just walked out the café back door. She’s—does she know?”

“She doesn’t,” Kokonoi muttered, eyes going wide. “She thought we were meeting uptown today.”

Inside, Sanzu raised a brow, voice dark with amusement. “Our princess has impeccable timing.”

Kakucho swore under his breath and headed straight for the door. But Mikey beat him to it.

No one saw him move — but suddenly he was gone from the head of the table, already heading toward the alley with a sharpness in his stride that screamed danger.

___________________________________________________________________________

You stepped into the alley with your drink, glancing down at your phone.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

Then—

“(Y/N).”

The voice hit like a whip crack.

You looked up.

And your entire body froze.

Mikey stood less than ten feet away, half-shadowed by the building’s corner. His eyes — usually soft around you — were pitch black. Unreadable. His jaw was clenched, his shoulders tense.

“Mikey?” you breathed, confused. “What—?”

He crossed the distance in two strides, gripped your wrist — not rough, but tight — and pulled you close.

“Don’t look,” he said, voice cold. “Don’t turn around. Just stay with me.”

Your heart pounded.

“…What’s going on?”

“Job,” he muttered. “You weren’t supposed to be here.”

His tone was flat. Not angry — not yet. But there was something beneath the surface that made your stomach twist.

Rindou appeared next, jogging up behind you. “We’ve got eyes on the block. I’ll clear the route.”

“Take her to the car,” Mikey said.

“But I—”

“Now.”

You flinched.

Kakucho showed up just as Rindou was guiding you away, but not before you heard the door slam open behind you.

A scream. Muffled.

The sound scraped down your spine.

“What the hell are you doing in this part of town?” Kakucho asked lowly as he walked beside you.

“I didn’t know,” you whispered. “I just wanted to walk.”

You weren’t crying, but your hands were shaking. You kept thinking about that sound. That tone in Mikey’s voice. The way everyone had reacted like your presence there was a bomb no one knew was ticking.

___________________________________________________________________________

Back at Bonten Penthouse – That Night

You were curled up on the couch with your hoodie pulled over your hands. No crochet. No tea. Just silence.

The front door opened.

You looked up — and Mikey walked in, shoulders still tight under his jacket.

You stood slowly. “Hey.”

He stopped across from you, watching.

“I didn’t mean to be there,” you said first. “I had no idea. I was just—”

“I know,” he interrupted. Quiet. Calm. But cold.

“…Then why do you look at me like I betrayed something?”

He looked away for a beat. When he looked back, his eyes were raw.

“Because for five seconds, I thought something could happen to you. And that does something to me I can’t explain.”

You blinked.

Mikey took slow steps toward you, then pressed his forehead to yours. “I wasn’t mad at you. I was mad at the world for letting you get that close.”

“…It wasn’t your fault either.”

“I know that logically,” he murmured. “But Bonten’s job is to make sure no part of our world ever touches you.”

Your voice cracked, soft. “But I am part of your world.”

His hands gripped your waist. “Not that part.”

The front door opened again — Sanzu this time, followed by Kakucho and Koko. Ran and Rindou trailed in after.

“I want to apologize too,” Sanzu said, coming to your other side. “We were supposed to lock that street. It won’t happen again.”

“You scared me,” you admitted, your voice small. “Not just what I saw. You. Mikey. You looked like a stranger.”

Mikey flinched.

“I’m sorry,” he said, so quiet it almost didn’t reach you. “But if you had seen what was behind that door…”

“I didn’t want to. I just wanted a coffee.”

Kokonoi stepped forward, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Then next time you want a coffee, we’ll send a whole team with you. And we’ll buy the café, just to be sure.”

You couldn’t help a weak laugh.

Ran placed a kiss on the top of your head. “No more walking alone, princess. I’ll personally put a tracker in your shoe if I have to.”

Rindou muttered, “I’ve got one in her phone already.”

“…You do what?” you blinked.

Sanzu shrugged. “It’s Bonten. That’s romance, baby.”

They surrounded you on the couch after that — quiet, present, letting you sit in the middle with a soft blanket and warm silence. Nobody talked about the job again. Nobody mentioned the scream or the cold in Mikey’s eyes.

You were here. You were warm. You were safe.

And every single one of them made sure you'd never wander that close to danger again — not because they didn’t trust you…

…but because they couldn't survive the idea of losing you.

___________________________________________________________________________

The city outside was asleep.

So was everyone in the penthouse, you guessed — or at least pretending to be. After dinner, they'd gently scattered, one by one, all leaving you on the couch with soft reassurances.

Sanzu had kissed your temple and told you to call if you so much as twitched.

Kokonoi brought a blanket and some honey tea — “just in case,” he said.

Even Ran, who teased more than he comforted, gave you a rare little shoulder squeeze before disappearing into his room with a wink. “Don’t let Mikey sulk too long,” he muttered. “He’s worse than you.”

But it was Mikey who stayed.

He hadn’t left the living room. Not really.

You found him an hour later on the floor beside the glass balcony doors, sitting in the moonlight with his knees drawn up, arms resting over them. His expression unreadable.

“Mikey?” your voice was quiet, careful.

His eyes drifted over to you. Soft. Sad. Awake.

You padded over, blanket still around your shoulders, and stood in front of him for a moment before whispering, “...Can I sit with you?”

He nodded without hesitation and opened his arms.

You climbed into his lap, your knees on either side of his hips, and settled into the circle of his embrace. He shifted, gently tucking your blanket around you again, and leaned his cheek against your collarbone. It was so quiet, you could hear the faint rhythm of his breathing, the quiet sigh of traffic below.

“I’m okay now,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer at first. Just rubbed a slow, steady hand up and down your back. His other arm stayed snug around your waist, like he couldn’t afford to let you go.

“Are you?” he murmured finally, voice low, gravelly from fatigue.

You nodded. “It just… scared me. Not the job. You. I’ve never seen your eyes like that.”

Mikey tightened his arms slightly. “It’s not a part of me you should ever see.”

“I don’t want you to pretend around me, though,” you said softly. “Even when it’s ugly.”

He was quiet.

Then: “I don’t pretend. I protect.”

You swallowed. “...You don’t have to protect me from you, Mikey.”

That made him look up.

The moonlight kissed the edges of his pale hair, and his eyes — though tired, though heavy — shimmered like ink in water. You reached out and brushed your fingers through his bangs, gently moving them aside.

“I know you’ve done things,” you said. “I know there’s a side of you that’s colder. But you still hold my hand like it’s fragile glass. You still make my tea the way I like it. You still ask if I want an extra blanket. That’s still you.”

He didn’t say anything. But you felt him exhale — a deep, slow breath, like something was unclenching in his chest.

“I don’t know if I deserve that version of you,” he admitted. “The one that makes you feel safe.”

You pressed your forehead to his. “You do. And I want all of you, not just the part you think I can handle.”

For a while, he just held you.

You sat there in the dark, your head resting on his shoulder, his fingers tracing lazy circles into your back.

Eventually, he said, “I don’t want to sleep alone.”

You smiled against his neck. “Good. Neither do I.”

___________________________________________________________________________

You fell asleep in his arms, right there on the floor with the blanket wrapped around you both.

The others would find you in the morning — Mikey half-dozing, you curled in his lap, the city glowing faintly behind you. They’d smirk, tease, take a photo or two.

But not one of them would say a word too loud.

Because they knew: after everything today, this — you and him, safe and warm and breathing gently together — was sacred.

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ghost-proofbaby · 4 months ago

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Okay hear me out, Eddie nervous on your first valentines day together wanting to make it special and only knowing how to valentines from what he's seen at school and he panics and is very eddie about the whole thing 👀

please my heart almost couldn't take this. i swore nothing over 1k but nervous and panicking eddie being all cute?? yeah i couldn't help myself. this isn't edited, sorry in advance. no warnings, just fluff.

wc: 2.2k

He feels stupid.

It's the only thought ringing through his head as he sits at the Munson's dining table, scraps of construction paper strewn over the worn wood, glue stick drying out to the side and scissors digging into his knuckles.

It had started as a prophetic vision after a few hits from his blunt; it was quickly souring into the most ridiculous thing he’s ever done.

The high had worn off, Eddie had glued his fingers together thrice now (seriously, how was this glue stick approved for children?), and the end product…. Well, he hated it.

The card was tacky. The flowers were uneven. He didn’t even have the willpower nor time to make a full bouquet as he had originally wanted to while under the influence. Pink glitter was now overtaking the trailer, and he’s never seen his uncle look so damn entertained.

“Boy, what on God’s green Earth are you going?”

Normally, the twang of Wayne’s accent would be comforting. But right now, all Eddie could hear was held back laughter choking up his old man’s throat, and a glint in his eye that felt a lot like a taunt, and he felt the farthest from comforted in a very long time.

“Mind your business, old man,” Eddie grumbles, tongue sticking out as he tries to reglue a corner of a paper heart he had cut out, needing it to stick down properly. He probably should have purchased glue, in hindsight.

“Where did you get all this paper?”

“I said mind your business.”

“Is that pink glitter?”

“Don’t you have work?” Eddie huffs, grabbing at the Valentine card he was attempting to salvage, cheeks blushing more vibrant than any of the arts and crafts supplies spread about.

He didn’t want to admit how embarrassed he was. He didn’t want to give anyone else the satisfaction. It was his own damn fault, really – he had offered for your nightly diner dates to be on him one too many times this last month, and entirely forgotten to put away any extra cash to get you a proper Valentine. And this was his last resort.

He’d tried to convince the local florist to discount the flowers missing one too many petals for him, he’d tried to scope out the cheapest cards available at Melvald’s. He’d begged and bartered with every option in town to simply get you something for the day of love, and in the end, he’d simply fallen short.

So now, all he had was a palm full of gritty glitter and homemade items that looked worse for wear.

One of the kinder ladies that lived two trailers down had been happy to offer Eddie some of her scrapbooking papers, throwing in the glitter for good measure, and he still had an old glue stick from when he’d built one of his custom tabletop maps for a D&D campaign. With five hours and a dream, he was now the not-so-proud creator of three handmade paper roses, and a card hardly large enough to fit in his palm.

When he took a step back to look at it all, Wayne was right to be snickering on the couch over it all.

“They’re going to hate it,” Eddie laments, glaring down at his creations, “They’re going to hate it, and I’m going to get dumped on our first Valentine’s day together.”

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself, son,” Wayne tries to genuinely comfort Eddie now, leaning forward to get a better look at his last five hours of work, “I’m sure they’re gon’ be happy that you just thought of the-”

“My life is over,” Eddie interrupts, walking over to the couch to collapse dramatically.

Wayne stops him, however, throwing up a hand, “Nope. You’re not gettin’ that damn pink glitter all over my couch. Go mope in your room.”

After a brief stare-off, a whole ten seconds wasted when Eddie could be wallowing in his self-pity, Eddie does exactly that.

He hopes Wayne is right, for all their sakes. There’ll be bigger things to worry about than just glitter if you really do hate Eddie’s attempt at a sincere Valentine.

—

It takes nearly a full minute of knocking on the Munson’s trailer’s front door before Eddie opens it for you – that’s your first sign that something is terribly wrong.

Your next sign is when Eddie hardly adds any enthusiasm into your welcome kiss, so reserved, as though he might be in a constant state of cringing; a constant state of preparing for the worst.

“Is something the matter?” you ask innocently enough, toeing off your shoes and shifting your bag in hand. You’d picked up a few movies for the night, a variety of cheesy rom-coms Eddie expressed a slightest bit of interest in along with a few more up his alley. A horror film that neither of you had seen that looked to have a budget of $10 and a dream, and Labyrinth.

The latter, you’d both already seen. Neither of you would pass up seeing David Bowie in his full glory, though.

“It’s fine,” Eddie huffs out, still refusing to meet your gaze, “Want me to put on some popcorn?”

You can’t help but light up as you follow him in his rush to the kitchen, “God – yes, please. I also got some sour patch kids, your favorite, and-”

You cut off when you catch sight of the dining room table.

Eddie doesn’t glance back as he reaches up to the cabinet holding the stash of popcorn he keeps around for your movie nights, “And?”

“Eddie…” you slowly draw out in a questioning tone, looking at the mess before you, “What, uh, happened here?”

It’s an explosion of quintessential Valentine’s day. Pink paper hearts, strips of deep reds discarded messily. A shimmering glitter covers the table, and you can’t recall any DIY projects of Eddie’s for Hellfire that might involve that.

“What?” He’s quick to turn around at that, and you watch as all the blood drains from his face, “Oh, fuck, I-” he launches himself back around the kitchen counter frantically, grabbing at any piece of paper he can find, “Shit, I meant to clean this up earlier, I’m sorr-”

“What were you making?”

Eddie pauses all movement, glancing up at you in fear.

You’re not even sure what he’s afraid of. All you can do is furrow your brows, twist your lips, scrunch your nose.

Was it meant to be a surprise of some sort?

He swallows hard, standing up straight as he shifts uncomfortably on his feet, “I….”

When no words follow, you raise a brow, trying to silently encourage him to continue on.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

And oh, he’s such a bad liar. A pretty one, but a terrible one.

There’s no sign of the stellar poker face you’ve seen him wear during Hellfire sessions, no impeccable cockiness to cover up the obvious. His wringing hands draw your attention to his knuckles, all the drying glue and glitter peeling off bit by bit.

“You sure about that?” you press, grin slow spreading as you take a step closer to him, eyeing the mess he tries to shift in front of to block from your sights.

“Positive.”

“Has anyone told you you’re an awful liar, Munson?”

“I’m not ly-”

You scooch around him effortless, dropping your bag in the process and making him yelp out as he tries to catch you. His arms are quick to wrap around your waist as you try to get a clearer view of what he had been so desperate to conceal, but even his best efforts can’t stop you.

It’s all a bit childish from the outside. Reckless giggles, flailing limbs – even Eddie is smiling in his panic.

“Let go of me!”

“Then leave it alone!”

“I wanna see what you made!”

Each screech between the two of you is overcome with laughter as he pulls you flush to his chest, caging you in and yet failing to cover your eyes.

You spot what he was trying to hide, and all attempts to escape his hold cease.

“Are those…” you start, a little breathless as you stare in awe. You swear, you could burn up from the warmth blooming in your chest. When his arms go the slightest bit limp, you have your answer before finishing the question, “Are those for me?”

A small jar, one that had once held some of Eddie’s pick collection, now holds three handmade paper roses. Mingling petals of two different shades of red, with tightly rolled pieces of green paper servings at their stems. Two even have leaves, cut jagged and true to nature.

Leaning against the small paper flower display is a card.

It’s a messier ordeal than the flowers, but you’re still prying Eddie’s forearms from your stomach in a rush to grab it.

“Hold on,” he rushes out, no longer laughing as you get a hold of the card, “Wait, listen, I can explain. I just- I spent most of my money when we went to Benny’s for shakes last week, and I forgot I wouldn’t get any more cash before today, and I just-” he’s stumbling over his words, a mess of flying hands and wide eyes as you turn to face him, “I… I’m sorry, okay? I swear, they’re just placeholders until I get you a real gift for Valentine’s Day.”

You’re hardly listening to him as you look down at the small paper, folded over fairly impressively to mimic one of the fancy cards from Melvard’s. It’s thinner, sure, but you’re mesmerized as you trace over the heart cut out of the center. It’s filled with pink glitter that clings to your fingertip as it passes, and you can’t help but let out a small laugh.

And then you open the card.

The outside was plain white save for the heart, but the inside is gorgeous. Hand drawn vines and flowers fill the empty space inside. Roses, mums, lillies – every flower you can think of is amongst the bunch. All etched out in ink, an ink you recognize from Eddie’s favorite pen, and every gentle line sketched out to make the larger picture sends your heart racing a few beats faster.

Underneath the glitter heart is a large bee, made with a speech bubble.

“Placeholder?” you laugh breathlessly, biting your lip to stop from smiling like a fool. “You call all this a placeholder?”

Bee mine?

It’s so cheesy, it aches.

Written in makeshift cursive, not quite as neat as it could have been, but clearly a valiant effort from the shy man standing before you. You can’t fathom how he’s embarrassed about this when you look up at him with fluttering lashes and a chest full of fizzling love.

“I thought you were going to hate them,” he hoarsely whispers as he reaches a hand to the nape of his neck.

“Hate them?” you repeat in disbelief, turning your attention back to the handmade flowers. “In what fuckin’ world would I hate these?”

You lift one of the roses from the mini jar, and sniff it on instinct. It should only smell like paper and glue, but it doesn’t – Eddie’s obviously spritzed his cologne onto the flowers.

The miniscule detail has your heart bursting.

He’s still petrified as he stares at you, shrugging hopelessly, “I just know it’s our first Valentine’s together, and people usually go all out-”

“This is going all out, Eddie.”

You can’t imagine being capable of any more love for the boy in front of you. Genuinely – you don’t believe your bones could handle the weight of it, that your heart could take it. You’re filled to the brim with it, buzzing like summertime cicadas beneath your skin from all the vibrant emotions you have for him. For every blemish across his skin and every kink in his curls, for those big brown eyes simply staring at you now. Those knuckles covered in glue and glitter. Those lips that you can’t handle another second not kissing.

And so you don’t. Not another second is wasted as you fling yourself forward, nearly dropping the paper flower in hand as you grab each side of his face, bringing him to you in a hard kiss.

You hope he feels all that love. You hope the weight of it presses down on his shoulders, even if just a little, so he gets it.

“I fucking love it, Eds,” you laugh into the kiss, pressing your forehead, “I- Honestly? I think this is the nicest Valentine I’ve ever gotten.”

“Really?” his eyes pop open, pulling back from you slightly until you simply won’t allow it. You want him close – you need him pressed against you. “Well, shit. I thought you were going to hate them and break up with me.”

“Me, breaking up with you? After this?” you parrot back in disbelief, shaking your head, tip of your nose rubbing against his through the action, “God, you’re an idiot, Eddie Munson. My idiot, but still.”

He finally cracks a smile, and you lose yourself in the dimples that appear as he asks, “Does this mean you’ll be my Valentine?”

“Absolutely.”

#ghost's stories #v-day party #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #i can just imagine how beautiful his sketching style would be and i am dreamily sighing #i hope this is what you were looking for friend <3

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humanpurposes · 7 months ago

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Hi hiiii I couldn’t resist to not slide into your inbox and request a Christmas fic based on this prompt with a Aemond who isn’t used to his girl’s flirty behavior and gets flustered soo easily👀 you can totally ignore this if you don’t like it<3333

“Since I can’t ride in Santa’s sleigh, can I ride you instead?” “Sorry, what?”

HI RUE ✨ Kinda put my own spin on this but I'm sure you'll love it <3

Can I Ride You Instead?

modern!Aemond x reader

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: smut, Aemond being a workaholic while his girl has needs

A/n: It's tiiiiime, happy 1st December!!

Main Masterlist // Christmas Masterlist

One more night in King’s Landing. You look out from the window at the lights in the city; street lamps; lively pubs; offices that have been abandoned until new year; and all the festive lights lining the highstreets. Conquest Street is your favourite place to be this time of year. You love the displays in the shop windows, the market in the square, the little wooden huts selling scarves and handmade jewellery, the smell of mulled wine, sugar and cinnamon, almost tangible in your nose and on your tongue. What you wouldn’t give to be there right now.

Aemond’s apartment is bleak by comparison. He doesn’t see the point in decorations, not when he’ll be spending Christmas at his family’s estate– at Dragonstone, Christmas is Alicent’s territory. Aemond’s place is clean, lit by lowlights with no bursts of colour or fairy lights and no tree.

He’s sitting at the dining table. The cold glare of his laptop shines over his face and reflects in the lenses of his glasses.

This boy never takes a break.

Term technically doesn’t end until tomorrow but everyone you know has already gone home to make the most of the break. Not Aemond. He wants to stay for as long as possible. He doesn’t talk about his family much, but you can put pieces together. You booked your own train ticket home according to his because you could think of nothing worse than leaving him alone on the run up to Christmas.

“Sit down, you’re making me anxious,” Aemond says, not looking up from the screen.

He’s been on the verge of irritation all day. You’re in the kitchen trying to make hot chocolate? Too much noise, he says. You’re at the dining table wrapping presents for your parents? Too distracting.

You take slow steps across the floor, behind his chair, draping yourself over his shoulders. He’s working on some project for an internship and simultaneously trying to get ahead on the research for his dissertation.

You love how he looks when he’s focused, the frown that means he’s utterly absorbed in what he’s doing. It’s not quite so endearing when he could be focusing on you instead.

Your arms wrap around him. He pushes his glasses up and puts a hand over yours, a featherlight touch. You want more.

“It’s getting late you say,” letting your lips ghost over his temple.

“It’s not even six.”

“You should take a break. We could order food?”

“Yeah, when I’m done with this, I just need to–”

“Aemond.”

Your arms fall away from him and he looks up at you with a slow breath. His expression is soft, his eyes slightly hooded, his lips fallen. He knows he's upset you.

“Aemond, it’s our last night together before Christmas.”

He shuts the lid of his laptop and leaves his glasses on the table. As much as you love how he looks with them on, there’s something about the unobstructed view of his face that never fails to take your breath away. Especially his eyes, one blue, one glass and made to imitate a sapphire, framed in a neat scar running down the left side of his face, an injustice of childhood.

He leans forward, snaking his hands to your waist, pulling you in towards him.

It’s an unfair move really. Suddenly all you want to do is run your fingers through his silver hair, tilt his chin up, hold his face in your hands.

“You’re right, darling,” he says, stroking his thumbs in circles where they fall against your belly. You feel the pressure of it through the knit jumper you wear. “Let’s go out. Pub? Restaurant? What’s the market thing on Conquest Street, didn’t you mention that a while ago?”

“It’s a bit late to go out now, I’d have to get ready.”

“We’ll stay in and watch a Christmas movie then, yeah?”

“I didn’t think you’d be in the mood for something festive.”

He makes a quick face. Not that long ago you’d tried to get him to watch The Muppet Christmas Carol, and he was far from impressed. What horrors will you have in store for him next? “Whatever you want. I want whatever you want.”

You coax him to the sofa, big and plush and expensive. Aemond throws a blanket over the two of you and with a few taps of his phone arranges the food. Without much deliberation you put on Love Actually, meeting Aemond’s eye with a wide grin.

He hides his face in his hands but survives the ordeal.

By the time the credits are rolling it’s not particularly late, but you’re dreading the morning. You’ll have to wake up early, pack a bag, then you and Aemond will go to the train station together and go your separate ways until the new year. A whole two weeks apart.

You cozy up to him, breathe in the smell of his aftershave.

“What now, another film?” He asks, trying to find the remote.

Another idea pops into your head. “We could do something else?”

Aemond catches your eye, trying not to smile. “Now let me think, what else could we possibly do, hmm?” He’s awful at playing coy and has been since the moment you met him. He’s too observant, too intent on the details to play dumb.

“Well,” you say, tracing fingertips along the material of his sweats, over his thigh, “since it is the season, and I can’t ride Santa’s sleigh, can I ride you instead?”

His mouth bursts into a messy smile. “Sorry, what?”

You mean to huff out of annoyance but it comes out like a laugh. “I’m trying to be cute!”

Aemond takes your chin in his fingers and your body freezes. “You really don’t need to try,” he says, and leans in to capture your lips with his.

The way Aemond kisses makes you melt every time. He’s slow and commanding, like he’s savouring every precious moment. His hands slide underneath your jumper, dragging along your skin to hold your waist. The promise of what will come next puts you on edge.

Sparse gasps for breath hum in the back of your throat. Aemond smiles against your lips and holds you tighter, dragging you to straddle his lap. He pulls away from your mouth, to your frustration, and places a wide palm at your navel, the waist of your jeans. “Stand up, need to get these off.”

You move off him and go to undo the top button, but Aemond grabs your wrists and pulls you closer. You watch as he smiles slightly, his fingers moving to undo the button and the zip. He’s teasing you, drawing out the anticipation as much as he can.

You sigh in relief once they’re off, dragging them down your legs, tossing them aside and coming back to straddle Aemond.

His hands settle at your thighs. “Look at you, so eager, hmm?”

“You can’t blame me, you’ve been ignoring me all day,” you say, grinding your clothed core against the bulge in his sweats. You can be teasing too, with drawn out movements of your hips.

Aemond’s jaw tightens. You can see he’s trying to stay smug. “Well, we’re fixing that now.”

You press a kiss to his cheek while your fingertips curl at the top of his sweats, dragging them down enough to free his cock. He’s taught you what he likes and if you were feeling patient you might have come to your knees before him, but at the slightest touch of Aemond’s fingertips against the fabric over your clit, you know what you need.

He pulls your panties to the side, dragging you along his leaking cock with a hand at your lower back. He’s hard and you’re achingly wet. He holds you where he wants you, lining himself up to pull you down onto his length. The stretch is sharp and sweet, hollowing you out and filling you perfectly.

Aemond’s head falls against the back of the sofa as you sink down.

“Does it feel good?” you tease him.

He’s breathless, helplessly watching the space where your bodies meet. “Fuck, perfect little pussy– feels so good,”

You cradle your arms around his head as you ride him, unhurried, hands restless as you feel his hair and the sides of his face, along his jaw.

Aemond hardly has to do anything, as soon as his fingertips are on your clit you feel your spine straighten and something inside you tighten. He circles over you lazily, watching your face with a soft, admiring kind of amusement.

“Right there,” you whisper, “don’t fucking stop.”

“Are you gonna come for me, darling?”

Your thighs are burning at the effort but you don’t care. You’re so close, so close.

“Beg me,” Aemond murmurs.

A slew of slurred and breathless pleas fall from your lips. You can feel the slickness between your legs, how easily he glides over you, how deep his cock reaches inside of you, pushing against the right spot.

Aemond hums as he grabs your hips with his free hand, fucking you faster and harder until you’re falling apart, convulsing, melting.

You fall against Aemond, holding each other closer as you wait for the deliriousness to fade away. Suddenly the air is unbearably cold. You cling to Aemond, to his warmth, content in his arms.

“Happy with your ride?” Aemond asks. You can hear him grinning.

You lift your head and rest it against his shoulder. The light of the TV catches in his features, his jaw, his cheeks, his nose, the details of grey in his right eye and the unnatural bright blue of his left.

“Can I go again?”

Aemond leans into you, pressing his nose against yours. “You can ride me as many times as you want, darling.”

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thejourneymanandco · 2 years ago

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#thejourneymanandco #customfurniture #handmadefurniture #handmadeuk #customfurnituredesign #bespokefurniture #custommade #bespoke #custom #handmade #oakbenches #round oak side table

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meleeyz · 7 months ago

Text

┈﹒ ꒰ 𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘!𝗘𝗞𝗞𝗢 𝗪𝗘𝗗𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗡𝗦 ꒱

ekko 𝒙 fem!reader

୨୧ English is not my first language, so I regret in advance if something reads weird or is misspelled

୨୧ These are headcanons of the other Ekko, before the canon Ekko from the show "takes" his place… I hope you understand...

୨୧ I'm still writing for the fic, but the last chapters is taking longer than I thought, I hope you understand, in the meantime I have some things in drafts that I will publish so you don't run out of content.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

another universe!ekko who was really nervous about proposing to you knowing how big of a step that is...

Ekko had always been a confident guy. He was innovator, someone who could fix almost anything. But when it came to you, he found himself feeling like a bumbling preteenager all over again. He wanted everything to be perfect—down to the handmade ring he was crafting for the proposal. Using scraps of precious metals and stones he collected over the years, he poured hours of focus into shaping it into something that represented your story together. Benzo would catch him hunched over his workstation at odd hours, muttering about the alignment or polish. "You know, kid, it’s not like she’s gonna turn you down if it’s a millimeter off," Benzo teased, ruffling Ekko’s hair. Ekko would just grin sheepishly but double his efforts anyway.

another universe!ekko who practiced his proposal speech a dozen times, only to get caught mid-rehearsal...

He was standing in the middle of The Last Drop, the roof their unofficial safe haven for years. “So, um, I’ve been thinking…” he started, pacing back and forth. “No, no, that sounds dumb. Okay—‘you’re the light of my life, and I can’t imagine—’ ugh, that’s so cheesy.” Behind him, Powder crept up the stairs, barely containing her giggles. “Keep going,” she whispered, trying not to laugh. Ekko whipped around, his face flaming red. “How long have you been there?!” “Long enough to know you’re terrible at this,” she teased, doubling over with laughter. “You’re lucky she already loves you.”

another universe!ekko who had no idea you were planning your own big announcement...

While Ekko was caught up in his grand proposal plans, you were busy with plans of your own. The test results sat folded in your pocket for days, and your hands hovered over them more times than you could count. You were going to be a mother. It was Powder who figured it out first, being too observant for her own good. “You’ve been glowing,” she said one afternoon while helping you sort supplies at the community center. “Also, you cried over Mylo spilling coffee, so I kinda put two and two together.” You blinked at her, stunned. “Powder, you cannot tell anyone yet!” She held up her hands. “Cross my heart! But seriously, I’m gonna be the best godmother ever!” You couldn’t help but laugh, though your nerves stayed. You wondered how Ekko would react, if he’d be overwhelmed or excited—or both.

another universe!ekko who proposed on the roof of the last drop, the place where your story began...

Ekko had chosen the roof where he had first kissed you as the spot to ask you to be his forever. He had strung up soft, glowing lights and set up a little table with flowers and your favorite dessert. When you stepped onto the roof and saw him standing there, his hands fidgeting nervously as he smiled at you, your heart swelled with affection. He cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice. "So, uh… I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time." You stepped closer, your smile encouraging him to continue. "Being with you has been the greatest adventure of my life," he said, his voice gaining confidence. "And I can’t imagine spending another day without knowing that you’ll always be by my side. So..." He dropped to one knee and pulled out the handmade ring, holding it up with a hopeful look. "Will you marry me?" Tears filled your eyes as you nodded, unable to find your voice at first. "Yes, Ekko. Of course, I’ll marry you." The joy on his face was priceless as he slipped the ring onto your finger, pulling you into a tight embrace.

another universe!ekko who fainted when you told him you were pregnant moments later...

But before he could say another word, you decided it was time to share your own surprise. “I have something to tell you too,” you said, your hand trembling as you guided his to your stomach. “You’re going to be a dad.” His grin froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Wait, what—?” And then he hit the floor. Powder’s shriek of laughter carried from the rooftop stairs. "I knew he’d do that!"

another universe!ekko who woke up to find you fanning him, looking both amused and concerned...

"You okay?" you asked, trying not to laugh. He blinked up at you, groaning. "Wait… did you just say…?" "Yes, Ekko," you said softly. "You’re going to be a dad." For a moment, he was silent, then a wide grin broke across his face. "I’m gonna be a dad," he repeated, awe in his voice.

another universe!everyone who was overjoyed by the double news…

Vander insisted on hosting an engagement party at The Last Drop, which quickly turned into a celebration for the baby too. Silco was the first to congratulate you both, "You’ll be a wonderful mother," he said quietly. Claggor and Mylo, meanwhile, started a heated argument over who would be the better uncle. "I’m obviously the fun uncle," Mylo declared, crossing his arms. Claggor rolled his eyes. "The kid needs someone responsible. That’s me." Powder, sitting nearby, added fuel to the fire. "Don’t worry, guys. The baby’s gonna love me more anyway. I’m the godmother!" Benzo couldn’t resist teasing Ekko. "Didn’t want to wait, huh?" he joked, clapping him on the back. Ekko just laughed, unashamed. "When you know, you know."

another universe!ekko who became the most attentive fiancé and father-to-be anyone had ever seen…

Ekko went into full-on protective mode. He insisted on carrying anything remotely heavy for you, making sure you got enough rest, and preparing meals that he claimed were "good for the baby." "Ekko, it’s just a broom," you said one afternoon, trying to sweep the living room. "Doesn’t matter," he replied, gently taking it from your hands. "You’re not lifting a finger while I’m around."

another universe!ekko who is absolutely excited about his baby

Ekko transformed into the ultimate caretaker. He made sure you were comfortable at all times, fussing over pillows, blankets, and cravings. He’d often disappear for errands and come back with baby clothes, stuffed animals, or tiny shoes. "You know it’s too early to shop, right?" you teased one evening. "Yeah, but look at these little boots!" he said, holding them up proudly.

another universe!ekko who spent hours talking to your belly...

He would lean close, resting his head against you as he spoke softly. “Hey, little one. It’s your dad. I just wanted to say I love you already—whether you’re a boy or a girl, doesn’t matter.” Your laughter filled the room. “You’re gonna spoil them before they’re even born.” “Damn right,” he said, grinning.

another universe!silco who became unexpectedly protective of you during your pregnancy…

"Must I remind you," Silco said one day, his piercing gaze locking onto yours, "that you’re carrying a very important member of this family?" "I was just reaching for a book," you replied, amused. "It starts with books, and ends with unnecessary strain."

another universe!powder who was the maid of honor and made sure your dress was perfect...

Powder was practically vibrating with excitement as she helped you into your gown. “You look like a queen,” she declared, fluffing the skirt. “No, a goddess. Ekko’s gonna cry when he sees you.” “Let’s hope he doesn’t faint again,” you teased, earning a snort of laughter.

another universe!benzo who secretly cried at ekko’s wedding...

As you walked down the aisle, arm in arm with Vander, Benzo dabbed at his eyes. When Ekko teased him later, he grumbled, “Shut it, kid. It’s allergies.”

another universe!ekko whose wedding was the event of the year...

The Last Drop was transformed into a breathtaking venue, with twinkling lights and decorations. Vander had insisted on non-alcoholic cocktails, much to the delight of you and the other guests. Ekko couldn’t take his eyes off you as you exchanged vows, his voice steady despite the overwhelming emotions. “You’re my everything,” he said, slipping the ring onto your finger. "I promise to love you, protect you, and be the best partner and dad I can be—for you and for our family."

another universe!ekko who ended the night on the roof where it all began...

After the reception, Ekko led you back to the roof where it all began. The city lights shimmered below, the quiet hum of Zaun wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Ekko knelt in front of you, resting his head gently against your rounded belly. "I’ll be the best dad," he murmured, his hands cradling your bump. "You already are," you assured him, running your fingers through his hair. He looked up at you, his brown eyes shining with love. "And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it."

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

#ekko fluff #arcane season two #arcane x reader #ekko x reader #dad!ekko #ekko imagines #arcane ekko x reader

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flemingology · 6 months ago

Note

christmas request - you get sexy christmas lingerie and surprise leah with a lapdance (which inevitably leads to smut)

unwrapping you ─ leah williamson x reader

part of my christmas series. full masterlist here!

in which: you leave leah's best surprise for last

warnings: implied smut (18+), lap dance, language but also a whole load of fluff

wc: 3.9k

a/n: most unrealistic part in this fic is chicken soup and sandwiches being one of leah fav foods (god forbid that woman eats something colored). in other words... how does one write a lap dance????? this is not full-blown smut. i didn't really feel like including that in this series, but i hope i still did your request justice. <3

Your first Christmas with Leah had been perfect.

Your lover woke you up this morning to breakfast in bed, Leah wanting to make use of the fact she finally perfected the one recipe she knew – fluffy pancakes. You thanked her accordingly with a couple fierce kisses that soon turned into way more than either of you had planned, the two of you finally rolling out of bed a good two hours later, messy hair and flushed cheeks a testament to what you had been up to in bed.

You took a warm shower together, and then set foot outside for a light Sunday morning stroll through London's Christmas markets. You walked side by side, one hand occupied with holding Leah's, other hand nursing a hot chocolate. You took your time on each stall, admiring all the handmade ornaments, pieces of clothing and so many other things that were up for sale. You managed not to spend too much, not getting anything more than a small extra present for your sister and a cute little ornament you would add to your table decoration for the team dinner on New Year's Day.

Back home, you made a quick lunch. You heated up some leftovers from the night before, when you made chicken soup and some sandwiches, one of Leah's self-proclaimed favorite dishes that you made. You spent the rest of the afternoon lounging about, gliding from one Friends episode into the other, drifting in and out of sleep in each other's arms on the couch.

It wasn't until evening came around though, that the best part of the day took place. You had kept the best for last; the presents. Normally you weren't one to wait for the evening, but Leah claimed that it would be cozier, and you had to agree. Your apartment was coated in a warm glow from the mood lighting all around, a couple vanilla-scented candles adding to the cozy atmosphere, you and your blonde lover cuddled up on the couch, a pile of unopened presents ready to be attacked on your coffee table.

As promise to one another, neither of you went overboard. Leah had quite the tendency to spoil you, but you wanted none of that. And to your surprise, she actually stuck to her promise. There were 5 presents on the coffee table; 2 for your girlfriend and 3 for you. Unbeknownst to Leah, though, her 3rd and arguably best present of the night, was already unpacked and waiting for her under your layer of clothes.

A couple days ago, while Leah was at training, you ventured out into the busy streets of London for a final surprise for your girlfriend. You were more than happy with the two presents you had at hand, but you couldn't shake the thought in your mind that had been there for the past couple of weeks, to buy a new set of red, lace lingerie – one that you knew would drive her completely nuts.

So with that secret in mind, you and Leah started opening your presents. She insisted you opened the first one.

"For you, my love," she said, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as she handed you the first of her presents, the smallest one. You inspected the envelope, not able to make much from it on first glance. It looked elegant, though, a golden glow coming from the paper. You carefully opened the envelope, revealing a light green card with pastel accents. You couldn't really figure out what it was just yet, but with a little nudging from your girlfriend in the right direction, your eyes lit up as it dawned on you. "You booked us a weekend away?"

Leah nodded, a soft hum leaving her lips. "I know you've been wanting to get away for a little while," she started, taking one of your hands in hers. "I've been busy. You've been busy. But we can take a couple days for ourselves and for us. It'll be nice." Leah had a tentative look on her face, her eyes scanning yours, as if she was gauging whether you were actually happy with this.

Leah was right. The two of you had been extremely busy lately – your girlfriend's football schedule ramping up, and it seemed like the winter months had brought an influx of people wanting to buy estate, leaving you with a tremendous amount of work that you more often than not also took home.

You quickly gave Leah a fierce nod after you realized you got caught up in your thoughts, leaning towards her and pressing a soft kiss against her lips. "Thank you, I love this. I love you. We need it. It'll be good," you mumbled against her lips, your hand cupping her cheek and giving her another peck before you pulled away.

"My turn," you said excitedly. You grabbed the smallest one, a square box delicately wrapped in an elegant-looking black wrapping paper with silver accents. "This looks neat," Leah chuckled, and you bit your lip in apprehension as you handed her your first present. Unlike you, Leah wasn't so delicate with unwrapping presents. She was all ripping and tearing, nothing graceful about her movements. She'd never been a patient one when it came to things like these, and in all fairness, you couldn't blame her. Forever a kid at heart, Leah loved presents.

You got pulled out of your thoughts when you heard a faint gasp escaping your lover's throat. You searched Leah's eyes for any emotion but you couldn't read it, your heart starting to beat a little faster. "Babe, this is...," Leah inspected her present a little closer, "this is gorgeous." She carefully lifted the golden watch out of it's holder and held it in the light, the timepiece brightly reflecting the cozy hue in your apartment.

You'd first gotten the idea when you noticed Leah was online shopping the other day, looking for a new watch. You knew she liked to have a couple, alternating between them based on what outfit she'd wear. She'd been speaking about a new golden one for a while now, the one she had had lasted its time and she wanted a new one. Ever the observer, you'd made a mental note. A perfect Christmas gift.

Leah sported a bright smile, her gaze now pointed towards you. "Thank you, I've been looking at getting a new one, this is perfect," Leah took your hand in hers and gave it an appreciative squeeze, putting the watch back in it's holder and carefully placing the box back on the coffee table. "You could wear it with the black suit you have for New Year's Eve, it'd look really good," you said softly, Leah replying with nothing more than a suggestive wink.

Your blonde lover reached back over to the presents, grabbing a little silver bag and handing it to you. "We're staying in theme," Leah chuckled. You raised your eyebrows at her before your fingers made quick work of untying the knot, revealing a fine, silver necklace with a little L on. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you took in your present, admiring the way it glistened. "I know this seems like I'm basically claiming you, but I wouldn't have bought you this if you hadn't told me about a million times that you wanted one of these."

You let out a breathy laugh, throwing your head back against the couch. "Just for the record, I have no problem with you claiming me." You locked eyes with your girlfriend and saw a little twinkle in hers, to which you surged forward and pressed a firm kiss against her lips. "Thank you. You wanna help putting it on?" Leah nodded eagerly and twisted her body towards yours, clasping the necklace around your neck. Her fingers ghosted over the L that now hung between your collarbones. She kissed your lips once more, lingering a little before she pulled away again and sat upright.

Your next present for Leah was something you knew she'd be over the moon with. Arsenal through and through, your girlfriend had been collecting vintage Arsenal kits ever since you remember. Signed, worn, match kits, training kits, your wardrobe was full with her Arsenal memorabilia. There was one missing though, Arsenal's home shirt from the 2005/06 season, their last year at Highbury. You stumbled across it on Vinted a couple months ago and couldn't believe that it hadn't been picked up yet. The shirt was in perfect state, Thierry Henry's name and number splayed out on the back of it. You paid no mind to the price and ordered it immediately, knowing just how happy your girlfriend would be with it.

You passed her your second present. She felt around a little. "It's definitely clothing." She fumbled around a bit longer with the wrapping paper, before you interrupted. "Le, baby, how about you just open it and see what's inside instead of guessing." Her cheeks blushed a faint red but she complied nonetheless, once again very ungracefully tearing away at the wrapping paper.

Leah's eyes widened and her jaw dropped as she took sight of the burgundy shirt. You couldn't really tell with the lack of proper lighting in the room, but you swear you saw a couple unshed tears in her eyes. She quickly made work of the plastic layer around the shirt, holding it up in front of her. "Check the back," you said softly, reaching out towards your girlfriend and resting your hand on her leg that was slightly bouncing, testament to her excitement.

Leah turned the shirt around and you saw her smile growing impossibly bigger. "Babe, genuinely, what the fuck." You chuckled and shuffled closer to her, leaning your head on her shoulder and admiring the shirt along with her. "Nice one, eh?" Leah turned her face towards you and she cocked an eyebrow. "Nice? This isn't just 'nice', this is incredible," Leah scoffed. She turned the shirt back around, feeling the fabric, checking the label, as if she was still not sure whether this was real. "God, you've outdone yourself, y/n. I can't top this."

A smile tugged on the corners of your lips, pressing a soft kiss against Leah's cheek. "I knew you'd love it." Leah folded the shirt neatly and put it down on the coffee table next to the watch, turning her body towards yours. She cupped your cheeks and pressed a tender kiss against your lips, saying so much more than words could grasp. "You're amazing. I love you so much."

Leah pecked your lips another couple times before she retreated and set back against the armrest of the couch. "If I knew an Arsenal shirt was all it would take for you to be so expressive with you love, I wouldn't have waited this long," you said teasingly, earning a grunt and a playful swat at your thigh from your lover. "I am expressive with my love. Don't start on me!" A light giggle fell from your lips and waved away any further protest by grabbing Leah's hand and pressing a soft kiss against her palm. "You've got one more from me," Leah announced giddily, removing her hand from yours and grabbing the final present from the table. "This one's a bit more... sentimental."

You raised your eyebrows at your girlfriend, trying to read anything into her expression, but failing. "Sentimental...," you pried. "Yeah. Just open it. You'll see." You took the present from Leah's hands, the package laying relatively heavy in your hands. You carefully unwrapped it, each tear of the paper revealing a little more of Leah's final present. Eventually, you realized what it was. A handmade book of the last three years of your relationship. The book was littered with polaroids, screenshots of messages, souvenirs from places you went together, movie tickets, little notes you left for her to find on days you were out the country, and so many more. You could feel a stray tear making its way down your cheek as you scrolled your way through the book, catching it as quick as possible before it could fall on the paper and ruin anything. "Gosh, Leah,..." you mumbled, "sentimental is one way to put it, yeah," you said, muttering out the words past the obvious lump in your throat, sniffling a couple times as the memories unfolded underneath your fingers.

"You like it?" Leah's voice sounded small, and it almost agitated you, because you didn't even know how to begin voicing to her how much this meant to you. Leah wasn't one for the big romantic gestures, nor was she very showy with her affection, so for her to do something like this, to put so much time and effort into handcrafting this, it meant the world to you. You lifted your head and locked your gaze with your girlfriend's, a small frown etched between your eyebrows. "Le, please,..." you breathed, "do I like it?" You scoffed, and shook your head lightly at how ridiculous you found the question. "This means so much to me, Leah, you know that." You felt the blonde nudge a little closer to you, resting her head on your shoulder and looking at the polaroid your fingers seemed to linger on. "Remember that night?" she said softly, pressing a soft kiss against your shoulder.

"Of course I do," you said matter-of-factly. It was a polaroid you'd taken on the first time Leah slept over at your apartment. You'd been over at hers plenty of times, but somehow her sleeping over at yours felt like a step up. She'd come over and brought your favorite Italian take-away. Initially you both insisted on cooking together, but a long day at respectively football and work lulled you both into the comfort of having a meal prepared for you. You lounged on the sofa for what felt like hours, talking about everything and nothing until you settled for watching a film wrapped in each other's embrace. Somewhere during the night, though, you felt like the air had shifted a little. Touches lingered a little longer, kisses were a little sloppier, leading to the first time you made love to one another later that night. It was messy, clumsy and very nervous, but it was perfect. Perfect, because it was yours.

The memories flooded your mind and you couldn't help the jolt of arousal that coursed through your body upon remembering the events of that night. You leaned your head against Leah's, pressing a kiss against her temple. "As much as I would love to look through all of this right now, I've got one last present for you," you said softly, coaxing her head off your shoulder, carefully closing the handmade book and placing it on the coffee table. You tried to ignore the little insecurity that crept underneath your skin when you thought about Leah's final present. Deep down, you knew she'd love it, but you always felt a little apprehensive about things like this. The lingerie was one thing, the lap dance you were planning on giving her a whole other. "Another one? But it's not on the table?" Leah's eyes scanned around the room, clearly confused as to where you could've hidden another present. "It's not there, Le," you chuckled at the expression on her face. "It's upstairs. You stay here, I'll be right back," you put a hand on her chest and gave her lips a chaste kiss, standing up from the couch and making your way up the stairs before she could quip back a response.

You thanked your former self for having already put on the lingerie before Leah came home this afternoon, one less thing to worry about now in your nervous state. You slipped off Leah's your hoodie and sweatpants you'd been wearing, your girlfriend insisting that she wanted you to spend tonight in cozy clothing. You braved a look at yourself in the full-length mirror in your bedroom, and you felt some of the insecurities melt away. You looked good. The lingerie hugged your body in all the right places, accentuating all the curves you knew Leah loved so much. The longline bra was snug around your waist, the lace perfectly outlining the curve of your breasts. The thin red bottoms left little to the imagination, the waistband – accentuated with a little ribbon – just underneath your belly button. They gave prominence to your strong, tanned legs, likely your favorite thing about this set. You gave yourself an appreciative nod and pulled a robe out of your shared wardrobe, draping it over your half-naked body, giving Leah an extra layer to take off. You quickly decided to also pull a pair of red heels out of your wardrobe, putting them on and making your way out of the bedroom before you could doubt your choice of footwear. You stood at the edge of the stairs and took a steadying breath before you started making your way down. The clicking of your heels alerted Leah immediately, not able to delay her seeing you until you were downstairs.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in your outfit, and she put her phone down that she was mindlessly scrolling on to pass some time while you were upstairs. You could see a little glint in her eyes as you took the final step of the stairs, making your way back over to the couch at a tantalizingly slow pace. The air had most definitely shifted, Leah's intense gaze locking with yours as you slowed to a stop right in front of her. A smile tugged at your lips and you grabbed Leah's chin between your thumb and index finger, coaxing her face up towards yours and pressing a dizzying kiss against her lips. "I told you I had one final present," you mumbled against her mouth. "Why don't you discover what's underneath this robe?" You softly bit Leah's bottom lip as you let go of her lips, a lust-filled haze now clouding her eyes as she thought about what could be underneath the robe.

Leah's fingers made quick work of the knot tied around your waist, leaving the piece of clothing to fall to the ground, revealing your lingerie. "Oh," Leah's breath hitched in her throat and you would've grown insecure about her reaction if you hadn't seen the twinkle in her eyes. You were hit by a flurry of confidence and you twirled around, shaking your ass a little while your back was facing her before you turned back to face her. "Fuck, babe, this is..." Your girlfriend's words got caught in her throat as she let her eyes rake over your body once more, making sure she wasn't dreaming. You'd worn lingerie for her a couple times, after she had voiced how much she'd love it if you tried a couple sets. But never had it been a thing outside of the bedroom. You'd worn lingerie sets, worn sets underneath robes for her to discover, but it always happened in the comfort of your own bed. This, though, was a next step. A slight blush coated your cheeks as you felt Leah's intense gaze on you. She reached out one of her hands and looked up to you apprehensively, "Can I?" A smile tugged at your lips and you let out a light chuckle. "I'm all yours."

Leah's hands roamed all over your body, from your waist, to your thighs, to your lace-covered breasts, your calves, your ass, your girlfriend didn't leave a spot untouched. It wasn't long before her touches grew needy, and you put a hand against her chest to stop her, not wanting the rest of her surprise to get lost in her own excitement. "Le, wait," you said. Her eyes flicked up to yours, and you noticed how wide her pupils had gotten. A smirk made its way onto your face as to what would happen next. "You've been so good to me. Let me do this for you, okay?" You didn't await Leah's response. Instead you pulled Leah forward a little, and turned your body around, spreading your legs sitting yourself down on her lap. You couldn't ignore the doubts that crept in your mind about what you were doing, because you had never done anything like this. You'd sat on Leah's lap, plenty of times, but you'd never given her a lap dance. You did your research, naturally, you even watched a couple videos – although you had to click those off due to the abundance of secondhand embarrassment you experienced. Either way, you tried to calm your nerves by thinking how much Leah would love this, no matter how good you were at it. She never failed to voice her love for your bum.

Pulling yourself out of your thoughts, you leaned your back against Leah's chest and gave a tentative roll of your hips against her lap. The slight hitch of your girlfriend's breath didn't go unnoticed to you and it gave you the fire in your belly to continue your ministrations. You started grinding your hips against hers in a steady but slow rhythm. You alternated between moves, gently bouncing up and down Leah's lap or popping your hips every now and then, every reaction you pulled out of your girlfriend fueling your confidence. You could sense Leah was a bit unsure as to what to do with her hands, but as the time went on and she felt herself getting more and more aroused, she started guiding your body along with her hands. She aided your movements, pushing you down against her hips, loving the way your behind brushed her core with every gyration of your hips.

A couple moments passed and an idea popped into your mind. You leaned back into your girlfriend, your head resting on her shoulder as you looked up towards her and your gazes locked, a small frown etched on your face that was driving Leah wild. You locked lips with her and you couldn't hold back the breathy moan that escaped your lips at the feeling of her mouth against yours. The kiss was messy, all tongue and teeth, and it perfectly encapsulated the building pressure between the both of you. You tried moving your hips in an eight-figure, which pulled a groan from your girlfriend. "You're driving me crazy," Leah whispered into your ear, softly nipping at your earlobe as she kept her hands firmly on your waist.

You let out a breathy laugh that soon turned into a whimper as Leah's hands moved up towards your breasts, palming them and placing kisses against your back as you rolled your hips back into hers. One of your arms was placed on Leah's thighs, holding yourself up, and you threw the other around your girlfriend's neck, letting your nails rake over the skin on the back of her neck. Your moves grew frantic as you felt arousal building in your core, your gyrations less measured and less precise, the more Leah's hands started to wander all over your body. Any remnants of your earlier insecurity long washed away, you were more than pleased with how your final present for your girlfriend turned out. "God, Le, you feel so good," you breathed out as you let your head fall to her shoulder once again, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. A particularly harsh thrust of your hips against hers caused Leah to groan again, digging her fingers into your sides as she whispered in your ear.

"Bedroom. Now."

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #arsenal wfc #england wnt #lionesses

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