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eden031 · 3 months ago

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Married life

Dr. Jack Abbot x wife!reader

voilence against healthcare workers (not graphic), fluff, mild angst, Jack Abbot needs a hug

Summary: When Jack‘s wife is it hit by a patient a worried Jack only comes close behind.

Words: 1.1k

A/N: Heyy, so I just finished watching the Pitt and I am in love with Jack Abbot, I already have a few other ideas in my drafts, hope you enjoy this little piece of writing I came up with. I hope you enjoy and disclaimer he might be a bit ooc so please forgive me.

A sigh escaped her lips as she looked at Dana, the ice pack pressed against her cheek.

„Robby wants you to get an x-ray, he thinks you might have broken something.“ Dana said as the bustle of the ED continued around them. A loud sigh escaped her as she looked at the charge nurse.

„Can I even get out of that or has he already put me in line for one?“ she asked, a low hiss escaping her as she pulled away the ice pack, gently touching the forming bruise on her face, the skin was hot and she knew that the possibility of her having a broken bone was not zero, she was a doctor as well after all.

„He already put you in line for one,“ she paused, „You can be glad Whitaker caught you, otherwise he would have made you get a CT as well.“ Dana smirked slightly as she grumbled.

A patient had hit her, full force in the face. He had not even been agitated before, he had nodded and listened, been very friendly and attentive of what she told him, but after she had told him that he would have to stay in hospital for observation he had lashed out.

„Do you want me to call Jack?“ Dana asked, she froze at the question, Santos and Whitaker had stopped talking at the mention of her husband‘s name. Only a few people knew she was married to Jack Abbot, there were multiple reasons for that, however one of the biggest was that it was funny to leave people guessing. She knew there was a betting pool regarding her relationship status and it looked like that pool would soon be empty.

„Don‘t you fucking dare, Dana.“ she hissed under her breath, she knew that Jack would already lose his shit when he saw her later when she came back home from her shift. “It‘s his day off, he shouldn‘t have to worry about me getting punched by some bastard.“ she pushed her ice pack back on her cheek, feeling the sting of the cold stronger than before.

Suddenly the staff door swung open, hitting the wall loudly, a loud groan escaped her as she saw her husband standing in the doorway. He looked around and stalked towards the nurses‘ station, he was in civilian clothes, cargo pants and a black t-shirt that looked like it was definitely the one that said army vet on the back of it.

“What are you doing here?“ she asked before Dana was able to say anything. From the corner of her eye she could see that Santos and Whitaker had moved in closer, probably to get a listen in on the conversation.

„Robby called me, told me that a patient hit you.“ Jack was now standing beside her, his hand was twitching, she knew that it was stressing him out, throwing caution to the wind she gently took his hand with her free one.

„It‘s okay, I am doing fine.“ she sighed as she squeezed his hand, smiling up at him from where she was sitting.

„Did you hit your head when you fell?“ he asked, an annoyed sigh escaped her as the question came from him.

„Jack, I am fine! I didn‘t hit the ground, Whitaker caught me.“ she explained as she looked over at where Santos and Whitaker were standing. Jack followed her gaze and saw Whitaker looking at them, he gave him a double thumbs up, then turned back to her.

„We are going home after your x-ray.“

—————————-

Jack had been true to his word; they had actually gone home after her x-ray, nothing broken, surprisingly enough. Now she sat on the sofa, another ice pack on her face, half laying on Jack‘s stomach, half leaning against the couch. She could hear the police scanner crackling in the background of their living room.

„Mind if I order take out?“ Jack muttered as he continued to rub his stump. She let out a laugh, wincing as her cheek hurt a lot more again.

„Since when do I mind take out, Jack?“ she nuzzled her face into his stomach, the soft fabric of the shift warm against her face. A small smile on her lips as she thought that their entire relationship had started with take out and sitting in his apartment after a rough shift, even when she had been a resident.

„Don‘t know, Indian or Chinese, or do you want to try that new Thai place two blocks away?“ he asked, pulling out his phone from his pocket. A groan escaped her lips.

„Jack, I don‘t care, just get us something to eat.“ she sighed, not snapping at him, but the decision fatigue was hitting her hard at that moment. Usually she still had some energy left to decide these things, but right now she couldn‘t.

„Alright, Indian it is,“ he muttered, „The usual?“ it was more to confirm than to really ask her about it.

„Please,“ she muttered as she sat up slightly. They would get it delivered today, usually they walked to get it, but today was not the day.

Finally the food arrived, sitting on the floor of the living room at the coffee table they ate, chatting quietly.

„You know I love you, right?“ she asked, glancing at Jack who looked like he just wanted to go to bed.

„Yeah, I know,“ he nodded, looking up at her she could see his face, her heart clenched at the sight, he was gutted. „You know how scared I was when Robby told me you were attacked by a patient?“

„Yeah, sorry. I didn‘t want them to bother you with that,“ she looked back at the samosas sitting in front of her. Guilt settled in her stomach as she looked at him, she knew it freaked him out, and he also knew that it was not the last time she would be attacked by a patient, it would happen again in the future.

„No,“ he shook his head, „I was glad when Robby told me it wasn‘t serious and I was even happier that he called me,“ he gently took her hand over the table. Squeezing it carefully, squeezing it back she smiled at her husband.

„I love you too,“ he whispered, his eyes shimmering in the dim light of the living room, as she looked at him she knew that it was more than that. She knew that look, it had been the one he had given her during their wedding night, when he had held her tightly, trying to make them melt together. It was devotion and admiration, the deep longing he had to be close to her always reflecting in his eyes in moments like this.

#the pitt #dr jack abbott #dr jack abbot x reader #the pitt fanfiction #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x female reader

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yagrldariv · 5 months ago

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Little Black Dress

Aaron Pierre x Reader

A/N: I have posted in a minute but this has been sitting in my drafts for months. This is just a little Drabble, I’m trying to get back into posting more consistently. Minors DNI.

TW:Smut, semi-public, fingering, squirting, overstimulation.

Tonight Aaron was insatiable. All you could think was ‘fuck I’m going to be sore tomorrow’ but in the best way possible.

Your night out was now over, ended a lot sooner than you expected. But that was no thanks to the tight little dress you had on. You knew by the way he eyed you coming down the stairs in that short black dress it would get you trouble.

“We really have to go to this party?” He questioned as he raked his gaze over every inch of your delectable figure.

“Yes it’s not everyday your friend opens a club, it’ll be fun.”

Every chance he got he was staring you down through the lights of the club, not even trying to hide the hungry look in his eye. And that’s how you ended up here, flustered in the private bathroom of his friend’s office.

Aaron had your back pressed against his sold frame, his thick hands roaming your body. Your breath turned ragged as he began pulling at the thin fabric that was barely covering your skin. His fingers gripping every piece of soft brown flesh. Eventually, his hands parted ways, one stayed on your chest, toying with your now exposed nipple, the other was encroaching dangerously close to your panty line.

“Fucking look at you, so fucking sexy” His breath was warm on your neck as he continued to nip and kiss your exposed skin. You watched him through the mirror but his gaze remained on your body, taking it all in.

“You think you can just walk around looking this damn good and I’m not going to do anything?”

You were way too overwhelmed to respond with anything coherent. All that came out was a pathetic sigh, which he chuckled at.

His fingers slid against your inner thigh, drawing up the hem of your very short skirt.

From where you stood, you could see everything in the large mirror. Your eyes went to his wide pupils, then to the marks already showing on the side of your neck from his lips. But your gaze lingered on his hands. Those expert fingers lightly traced over the lilac lace fabric that was growing damper by the second. When he saw the flash of purple from under your dress his smile turned sinister.

“Shit baby, you wore this just for me, didn’t you?”

You nodded, still unable to form coherent words as his fingers worked over your hot skin. You heard him mumble “so sexy”.

The pads of his fingers slip under the fabric and you gasp at the sudden contact. “You like this baby? Hm?”

Those expert digits moved excruciatingly slow over your aching heat, touching you everywhere but where you needed him the most.

“Answer me,” he paused his movements.

“Yes, yes I love it”

“That’s my girl”

He took that as an invitation to explore more. He let his hands drop from their positions and he backed away. You took those few seconds to breathe and try and adjust your dress a little bit.

“Put your hands on that sink or I’m stopping” he spoke flatly as he leaned you forward, exposing your ass to him. His hands gripped your cheeks under the fabric of the dress and he squatted down. You arched just a bit more for him gripping the sink for leverage, and he smiled. You were putty in his hands at this point and he loved it.

He started placing kisses along the skin of your ass where your hem ended, adding a couple of bites here and there. Nothing to hurt you but just rough enough it caused your walls to flutter everytime his teeth grazed you.

When you least expected it, his fingers were again on your inner thigh, slidding up towards your covered hole that was now throbbing. His hands bypassed where you needed him most and snaked further to grip your waist, pulling the fabric of your dress with him until it pooled around your waist. Your ass was on complete display for him now as he continued leaving kissing on the newly exposed flesh.

“You gonna be a good girl and let me have a taste?”

You couldn’t say no even if your brain had the capacity to form a coherent thought.

“I need that answer if you want me to keep going mama”

“Fuck yes, Aaron, please just touch me already”

“Since we’re pressed for time, I’ll allow it” and with that he slid your panties down your legs.

At the same time you felt the cool air hit your sopping core, you heard him let out a breathy “fuck”. It was barely audible like it wasn’t even for you.

“You’re fucking drippin baby, this all for me?”

You nodded “always for you daddy”

He finished pulling the thong down your legs and brought his attention back to your core.

Before you even took a breath his tongue was flat against your slit, moving up and down. You jerked forward, not prepared for the sudden contact.

“You made me wait all night for this, you better stay still”, his strong hands pulled you back, bringing his face deeper.

You were cursing already as his tongue moved faster and faster. Before you knew he was eating you out like it was his last meal. You were trying to muffle the sounds of your moans but he did not give a fuck. The loud wet noises of his lips against your heat filled the room. He rotated between licking your clit and sucking it moaning against your heat. When he felt you were right on the edge, he slipped his toungue as deep as possible in your pussy, making you squirm under his hands.

His tongue slipped out of your now dripping hole and circled your clit. You bit down on your lip to silence a moan as your legs shook. All he had to do was wrap his lips around your sensitive bud and you were already on your first orgasm of the night.

His rough hands caressed your cheeks as he licked you clean, unfazed by your shaking legs. You were almost on the cusp of another orgasm when he pulled away, placing wet kisses up your thighs and ass until he was at your lower back.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ma take my time with you when I get you home,” His eyes were staring at yours through the mirror as he stood all the way up, moving back to his position behind you.

“But right now, i just want to have a little fun with pretty pussy.” He kissed your neck again as his left hand gripped your neck, turning your head until you were facing him. Your eyes fell on his plump lips, still glistening from his previous predicament.

“You don’t even know what you got yourself into huh?” He kissed you hard before you could respond. There was no struggle for control, he had all of it and you were just along for the ride. His right hand snakes it’s way up your waist, cupping your exposed tit. You moaned into his mouth, arching more into his broad chest. His expert fingers rolled your nipple back and forth and you pawed at his wrists, needing more. Right when you felt you were on the verge of running out of air, he pulls away. He placed one more chaste kiss on your swollen lips before releasing your nipple.

“Get these nice and wet for me babygirl”

Two fingers slip into yours open mouth and you greedily sucked them in, circling your tongue around each one, eyes locked on his. His thick dick, that was pressed against your ass, hardened even more at the sight. He loved you like this. Flustered, needy and eager to please him.

Once he felt you were ready, he removed his fingers from your mouth, saliva trailing on your lips. The hand around your neck slid down towards your chest, holding you up against him as he propped your leg up, giving him better access. His wet fingers wasted no time finding your hot core and he cursed under his breath again at how good you looked like this. He could never get enough of it. The way he was holding you, you were almost completely exposed to his in the mirror.

He could see your sticky wetness dripping down your thighs, “You’re always so fucking wet for me, I love that shit”.

He rubbed your clit applying just enough pressure to make you roll your head back onto his shoulders “Fuck daddy I’m gonna cum again”

You felt him chuckle “Already babygirl? I haven’t even started yet”. His pointer finger slipped in, and you moaned, louder than expected.

“Now you don’t want everyone to know how im sluttin you out in here, you gotta keep quiet.” He smirked.

You bit your lip as he continued his exploration, he wasn’t making it easy for you to keep it together. He wanted everyone to know how good he was making you feel, how good you were being for him, he did not give a shit about them hearing.

He picked a grueling pace, sliding his finger in and out. His hand on your chest resumed its assault on your nipples and you moaned again, this time a little too loud.

That one got his attention, “Alright you gotta keep quiet baby. You want someone to kick us out before I make you cum again hm?”. He did not like being interrupted, that was a given.

He pulled his hand away from your core and dug into his pocket, pulling out your lace panties. “Open”

You opened you mouth and he filled it with the purple fabric, sliding his hand back to his previous position.

“Now, you interrupt me one more time, you’re not cumming”.

His lips attached back on your neck and he slid two digits in this time. You bit down hard on the fabric as you came after a few more strokes, your loud moan thankfully muffled by the fabric.

You thought after that orgasm he’d let you go but boy were you wrong. He added a third digit and picked up pace. You gripped his forearm and your eyes rolled back, feeling an even stronger orgasm growing. Your legs became shaky and your pussy spasmed around his hand.

“That’s right baby, cum all over daddy’s fingers”. You were practically screaming, even with your underwear in the way. Any care of getting caught was long gone from your brain, you just wanted to make it out of there with your sanity.

“I know you got another one for me baby, cum for me”. You shook in his arms, cumming hard. His fingers slipped out, running fast circles over your clit “oh my god daddy I can’t I-“ you words were garbled as he worked you over into one more orgasm, your wetness dripping all over the floor as you squirted all over his hand. “Good fucking girl.” He praised

“Please..”you begged, completely overstimulated. He slowed his pace until he completely pulled away from your pussy, conceding for now. He returned you down to the ground, as you fought your breath.

Aaron pulled the panties from your mouth, placed a kiss on your lips, then another on your forehead “You look so pretty after I make you cum.”

You shoved him slightly in jest. He put his hands up in surrender. After another few minutes of him cleaning you up and fixing your dress, you two left the room.

He pulled you behind him, down the hall towards exit, hand clasped in his. “Let’s go home babygirl, so I can take care of you, properly”

#whew 🥵🥵🥵#d writes #aaron pierre #aaron pierre smut #aaron Pierre Drabble #black girl writes #black!fem!reader #black girl smut #terry richmond #rebel ridge smut #black girl reader #black reader

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albenyx · 2 months ago

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Romance with the Alchemist.

pairing: albedo x reader

warning: not proofread, rough draft, grammatical erroes (i think), wrote this like a year before and continued it on the spot so it's going to be a bit confusing but anw idc i js need to delete these drafts mehn HWIEHDJWJAH.

It began with a cup of tea.

Not yours—his. Albedo had brewed it, left it on the table, and forgotten about it amidst a string of calculations. You passed by, noticed the cup, and without a word, picked it up, warmed it again over the flame, and set it beside him with the gentlest clink.

That was the first data point. He didn’t write it down, but it stayed. He told himself it was curiosity at first.

You behaved unlike the others who visited Dragonspine. You didn’t press him with questions, didn’t ask for favors or boast about surviving the cold. You were…quiet, in your own way. Attentive without demanding. Present without pulling.

A quiet variable that returned, again and again. He found himself measuring time in your visits. Not in hours or days, but in the way the cave brightened when your boots left shallow prints by the door.

Noted. Unspoken.

Albedo’s affection bloomed not like fire, but like frost—slow, creeping, unnoticed until everything beneath was touched by it. He began adding a second chair beside his. “In case Timaeus visits,” he said. But he never offered it to Timaeus. Only to you.

He stored a second blanket in the corner—“for emergencies.” You used it once. After that, it was always folded neatly at arm’s reach from your favorite spot. These weren’t declarations. These were constants. Quiet insertions into his environment that proved your presence was not only expected, but accounted for.

The acceptance came not with a realization, but with a recalibration. One night, after you left with a soft wave and a promise to return “next week, maybe,” he found his mind drifting. Not to your face.

But to your voice, saying “next week.”

To your hand brushing his wrist as you passed something he needed.

To the warmth of your scarf still left behind on the hook.

He stared at it for a long time.

Then, without a word, he hung it next to his coat.

It was in the way he started pacing when your return was delayed. The way his brush hovered above the page, unsure whether to draw the tree outside… or the way he could see your breath on the cold air as you looked at something from the distance.

He never called this feeling to be something possibly like romance or affection, he does not believe he could feel such emotions.

But he stopped testing it. Stopped resisting the instinct to brew tea for two. To write notes in the margin for you to find. To reach for the scarf you gave him even when the cold didn’t bite.

One evening, you fell asleep near the campfire in his lab, book in hand, cheek resting against your arm. The silence was soft, comforting.

Albedo didn’t move you. He sat, watching the snow beyond the entrance, the curl of your fingers against the page. And for the first time, he allowed himself to speak aloud—not to wake you, not to be heard, but simply to let it exist:

“Stay as long as you’d like.”

It was not an invitation.

Not a request.

But it was a hypothesis proven true, quietly, patiently: In a world of shifting truths and elusive formulas, you had become the one constant he never needed to solve—only preserve.

To be honest, the snow never bothered Albedo.

Most avoided Dragonspine unless they had no choice, but not him—and not you, either, much to his quiet surprise the first time you trudged through the thick frost just to bring him a scarf. It was hand-knitted, a little uneven in stitching, dyed a blue that didn’t quite match his usual palette. You apologized for it, babbling that you weren’t sure he’d like it, but—

He took it from your hands, wore it immediately, and didn’t say a word. But he wore it again. And again. Every time you visited. You never noticed the way his gloved hand would linger over the fabric when you left. He made sure of that.

Albedo didn’t love like others did.

There were no grand proclamations. No impulsive touches or clumsy declarations. He didn’t stumble over his feelings or turn crimson at your smile. Instead, he observed you—like an unsolvable equation that he didn’t want to solve too fast.

He remembered the way you liked your tea: a dash of honey, not sugar. So when you visited the lab, a steaming cup always waited near the heat lamp. He noted the books you skimmed in the library, then borrowed them in secret, reading ahead so you could “coincidentally” discuss them together.

He never said the words. But he showed them in ways he knew how—through routines, through precision, through the silence between thoughts where your name lingered like an echo.

One afternoon, you arrived while snowflakes danced lazily outside, clinging to your cloak. “You’re not cold?” you asked, setting down a wrapped lunch you made for the both of you.

“I’m adjusted to this climate,” he answered without looking up, yet he slid a warmer chair closer to the heater for you. “But you should be careful. I noticed your gloves are worn. I’ve… made you a pair.”

You blinked. “You made them?” He nodded. “Woven from wool. Reinforced with wind crystal shards. A minor alchemical enhancement for warmth retention.”

You laughed softly, slipping them on. “They’re perfect.” He turned away too quickly. “I’m glad.” He never said the three words. He didn’t need to. The way he watched you with steady, unwavering eyes—the way he noticed what even you didn’t—said it all.

It wasn’t until much later, when you found an old sketchbook half-buried under his pile of notes, that you truly saw it. Pages and pages of you. Not exact portraits, but impressions—the curve of your hand holding tea, the softness in your gaze when you looked at snow falling outside his window, the tilt of your head when you read aloud.

Each drawing carried a different kind of tenderness. And at the corner of one, written in his delicate script: “Hypothesis: In the presence of [Name], the concept of home shifts. It is no longer a place, but a person.”

When it came to everyone and their thoughts regarding the both of you, Lisa knew first. Of course she did.

You visited the library one afternoon looking for a book Albedo had once mentioned in passing—Floral Properties of Subzero Climates, Vol. II. You didn’t ask for it by name. You simply described the way his voice softened when he last spoke of it.

Lisa smiled, handed it over without a word, and watched you leave with a knowing hum. “That boy…” she murmured. “Head over heels in his own way.

Kaeya noticed when he caught Albedo adjusting his gloves one evening at the tavern. “You’re headed back to Dragonspine, aren’t you?” Kaeya asked. “Say hello to our favorite snow visitor for me.”

Albedo blinked once, the way he did when caught off-guard. “You mean Timaeus?” Kaeya chuckled. “Sure. Timaeus.” But Albedo didn’t argue. He just quietly picked up the satchel with two thermoses inside—one with his usual tea, the other with yours.

He wouldn’t call it affection. But he made sure the one labeled with your initials was sealed better, warmer.

Sucrose found one of your hairpins tucked into the corner of Albedo’s desk. She reached for it absentmindedly, only for Albedo to stop her gently. “That’s not… for use,” he said.

“Oh.” She blinked. “It’s the traveler’s, right?” Albedo didn’t answer. He just took it and placed it into the locked drawer where he kept his most fragile samples. Not because he wanted to hide it—but because things that mattered should be protected.

You never talked about what it meant. When you arrived, you simply sat beside him. Sometimes you read. Sometimes he painted. Sometimes you both just existed in quiet parallel.

But small things kept building up.

The sketchbook left open where he knew you’d peek.

The comment you’d drop about something he made—just enough to make him pause, the corners of his lips curling slightly.

Once, you brought lunch and forgot utensils. Without hesitation, Albedo offered his own.

Two hours later, he was still touching the spot where your fingers had grazed his.

Amber visited one time and caught the two of you mid-conversation—or rather, mid-silence. You were both just sitting, sipping tea, watching the snow fall outside. Nothing romantic, at first glance.

But then Albedo leaned closer, brushing a stray snowflake from your shoulder without breaking eye contact. You didn’t flinch. You smiled, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Amber blinked. “Wait,” she whispered under her breath. “Are they…already dating?”

You weren’t.

Neither of you said anything.

But everyone could see it and they had bet on it. In the way Albedo set aside a space for you in every part of his world. In the way your laugh softened his features in a way no potion or pigment ever could. Still, the words were never spoken.

Not when he adjusted your scarf before you left.

Not when you left him your gloves by mistake and found them cleaned and folded neatly in your bag the next morning.

Not even when he handed you a notebook one day—filled with formulas, sketches, pressed flowers, and on the last page: “Certain variables defy classification. I’ve stopped trying to define what you are to me. I’ve decided instead…to keep you.” There was no name on it. But you knew.

And when you returned the next day, you didn’t say anything either. Just sat beside him like always, eyes shining a little brighter.

And he, ever subtle, simply handed you your cup.

Still warm. Still waiting.

#nyx — writes.🖊️#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #albedo scenarios #albedo gi #albedo kreideprinz #genshin impact albedo #albedo fic #albedo x reader #albedo #genshin blog #genshin imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin x you #albedo kreideprinz x reader #i have returned #bitchass this is so shit PLSHWIAHDHDBA

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minlcna · 5 months ago

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mcgonagall's ball lessons | george. f. weasley

george weasley x muggle!fem!reader

note: i know it's been a while since i posted..tbh i lost my momentum in writing and posting and lost my inspo as well. i can't say that i love this but it's been in the drafts long enough. im thinking of starting to take requests but im not sure if yall want that lmk in the comments! otherwise enjoy this

synopsis: you dance with george once and all the of the sudden rumors zoom around faster than a snitch

warnings: one swear word, punching pansy and draco, mentions of having kids/contraceptives (?)

word count: 2.7k

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

The Yule Ball was its utmost effort for arriving, and today was the day Professor McGonagall, in all her glory, was to teach all eligible Gryfidors how to dance.

"The Yule ball has been a tradition of..." she started, raiding her voice, warning Flich of his tampering with the gramophone.

"...the Triwizard tournament since its inception. On Christmas Eve night, our guests and we gather in the great hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity."

"As representation of the host school, I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward. And I mean this literally because the Yule is, first and foremost, a dance.

Chatter and grumbling broke out instantly. You exchanged knowing glances with Alicia next to you. This could go either two ways: really bad or just bad enough.

"Silence," she called with strictness.

"The house of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the Wizard World for nearly 10 centuries. I will not have you in the course of a

behaving like a babbling bumbling band of baboons," she continued.

You saw George lean over to Fred, and you saw the lips mimicking the shapes of McGonagall, treating her words like tongue twisters. You pursued your lips to hold in your smile.

"Now, to dance is to let the body breathe. Inside every girl is a secret sworn Slumbers longing to burst off and take flight, and inside every boy is a lordly lion prepared to prance," she trailed off as she noticed George and Fred mumbling.

"Mr. Weasley, it was so kind of you to volunteer. Now, from the ladies, who will it be?" she questioned as her eyes trailed face to face down the row.

You pretended to reach into your nonexistent pocket, trying to appear busy and unsuitable choice.

"Miss L/N, please make your way to the center." she smiled.

You inwardly grimaced, which also showed outwardly, as evidenced by your friends' giggles and teasing eyes. You slowly stood up and made your way to the center before George.

You weren't sure whether it had been the pressure of everyone watching and quite possibly waiting to make fun of any little thing or the fact that George Weasley looked exceptionally pretty up close. Like really pretty, really close.

"Now, Mr. Weasley, grab L/N's waist with your right hand. No—that's your left hand—your right hand, yes." She directed patiently as the two of you awkwardly followed the directions.

Your right hand had met with his left, and you had to slightly get on your tip toes for your left arm to grasp his shoulder comfortably. Giggles and whispers erupted as soon as your heels lifted on the ground. Your face flushed red in embarrassment. You knew your friends and the entire house of Godric wouldn't let you forget this. You were not short by any means; the Weasley twin was just too tall.

As if the giggles and uncomfortable position of standing on your toes weren't enough to infuriate you, George smirked at your attempts to match his height and pace. You had been caught off guard when the music suddenly started playing, and rather than swaying, you had been being pulled and jerked from your position.

Unfortunately, Godric's heavy pride coursed through you, and your determination flooded to prove yourself to the already full-on snickers and cackles, the loudest recognizably being Alicia's.

"Relax a bit, will ya, love? My hands fall off," he whispered discreetly in your ears, and your face flushed darker than George's hair.

Thankfully, Professor Mcgonallal ceased your embarrassment by stopping you halfway and pairing everyone to learn. Each second felt excruciating, as it was the very first time you held hands with a guy—a handsome guy.

You swore you heard Professor Mcgognall join in the giggles when you walked beside your friends, noting her eyes follow George with Fred right behind. You wondered if she knew.

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

By the time the period had ended, the entire castle had heard how the Gryffindor dance lessons proceeded. Probably record time, probably faster than anyone could ever say Merlin's saggy left bollock.

You were already tired of Alicia and Angelina trying to match you with George despite your neverending denials of being passionately in love with him until death from just dancing with him. Now, the entire school had joined in on it. You could only grumble and protest under your breath as you became the castle's favorite gossip pastime.

Of course, the Slytherins took a rumor and ran with it. They had found a new way to taunt the Weasleys and a new toy to torment them. Any other nemesis of the twins also took part.

One instance was when you had been rushing off to grab breakfast leftovers when you heard, "Running to meet Weasley, eh? Should've gotten up earlier to snog him in time for breakfast!"

Your first strategy was to ignore and flip people off. That hadn't been enough because the sneers got worse. You avoided any signs of ginger hear throughout the castle. The scarce accounts of you locking eyes with Geroge, and he had just given a curt nod with his permanent smirk.

You couldn't help but scoff. Fred had helped defend you once or twice, but that was it. It's all his fault, and all he does is laugh.

You couldn't help but direct your anger towards George. You knew it was heavily misplaced, but you couldn't do anything. No amount of insults, swearing, or mummy/daddy abuses ceased the talks. If only they made it worse.

You wanted to confront the redhead, but the words refused to form in your mind. Just the thought of speaking to him made your tongue feel heavy, and your cheeks flush with heat. Your fingers itched to intertwine with his warm ones, and your whole body yearned to be close to him. But as soon as those urges surfaced, you shook your head vigorously, side to side, until the world spun around you. Being dizzy was easier to endure than the whirlwind of those forbidden thoughts.

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

You were standing in the courtyard during one of the breaks, waiting for lunch, when a sharp pain exploded at the side of your forehead. A heavy glass vial had struck you, clattering to the ground after impact.

"Hey, L/N," a taunting voice drawled. "Might wanna grab some contraceptive potions before you sleep with Weasley, or you'll end up breeding more than gnomes."

You bent to pick up the vial, your fingers curling around the cool glass as your brows furrowed in confusion. Then the realization hit, and your expression hardened into a sharp glare. The vial contained an actual contraception potion from an apothecary. Spinning on your heel, you locked eyes with the culprit: a blonde smirking devilishly, flanked by his entourage, their snickers biting at your ears.

"I'd shut your mouth if I were you," you said through gritted teeth, voice low and deadly. "Unless you want that ugly goblin shit you call a nose smashed into your skull." Your grip on the vial tightened, your knuckles blanching.

Goyle erupted in a guttural laugh but quickly silenced himself when Malfoy shot him a glare. Around you, the crowd stirred—murmurs of excitement spreading like wildfire. More students trickled into the courtyard, drawn by the rising tension, their curiosity adding weight to the charged atmosphere.

"Oh yeah?" Malfoy sneered, his lips curling in mockery. "What are you going to do? Call your filthy blood traitor lapdog to defend you?"

Pansy Parkinson's shrill giggle cut through the air. "Draco's just trying to help, you stupid Mudblood. But it looks like you'll happily pop out another Quidditch team full of losers."

The words hit like a slap to the face, and before you realized it, the vial slipped from your fingers, and your fists were flying.

The first punch landed solidly against Malfoy's jaw, snapping his head to the side. The collective gasp of the crowd barely registered in your ears as rage overtook you, a red-hot wave that blurred the edges of your vision. He stumbled back, but you weren't finished. You swung again, this time catching, hitting Pansy's nose, and then again, letting every ounce of frustration and fury you'd bottled up over the past few weeks pour into each strike.

The courtyard erupted into chaos. Malfoy's lackeys tried to pull you off, but you shoved them away. His smug smirk was gone, replaced with a wide-eyed expression of fear and pain as he weakly raised an arm to shield himself.

The crowd surged, students yelling and cheering, their voices blending into a cacophony. You didn't care. All you could see was green—your vision clouded with pure, unrelenting anger. You kept swinging, your fists aching, but it didn'tmatter. The satisfaction of each hit was the only thing grounding you.

Finally, strong hands grabbed your arms, hauling you backward. You kicked and struggled, breath coming in ragged gasps as the adrenaline coursing through you demanded you keep fighting.

"As much as I'd love for you to beat him to a pulp, love, I don't want to see you expelled." the captor of your arms whispered. Your body froze instantly, and you tried to catch a glimpse of the speaker. You noticed red hair peeking through the corners of your eyes.

"What in Godric's name is going on here?" the demanding voice asked, her sharp gaze cutting through the chaos. The crowd instantly silenced, students shrinking back under her scrutiny. Even Malfoy's friends, who had been so vocal moments ago, averted their eyes.

You froze, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath. The adrenaline still buzzed under your skin, but McGonagall's presence was like a cold bucket of water poured over you. Slowly, your fists unclenched, and you realized your knuckles were bruised and raw, faint smears of blood marking your fingers.

Professor McGonagall's lips thinned into a hard line. "Enough. Everyone—back to your business! This is not a spectator sport!" She turned her gaze back to you and Malfoy, her expression unrelenting. "The rest of you, to the Headmaster's office. Now."

Malfoy groaned as he struggled to his feet, favoring his side. "She attacked me!" he protested, his voice nasally and strained, no doubt from the blow you'd landed on his nose.

"And I have no doubt there's more to the story," McGonagall snapped, her tone brooking no argument. "But we'll deal with that where it's appropriate. Move along, Mr. Malfoy."

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

The altercation between Malfoy and his gang and you had been carefully investigated and justly judged. Professor McGonagall, despite her strict nature, was surprisingly in your favor. George had also vouched for you, following you into the rotating staircase despite your attempts to elbow him off. He called the harassment ruthless bullying.

Parents were summoned, but despite them coming so, your highly modest and conservative mother refused to let the Parkinsons and Malfoys get a word out. To her, a lady's womanly issues were not to be discussed in the open nor ridiculed.

With two strong defenders, your mother and your professor, you got away with just detention and could still participate in the ball.

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

It was the first snow of the year, and you were trapped in the Hogwarts kitchen. You had detention every Saturday morning, wehre your task was to scrub cauldrons. You needed to buy the last bits of accessories for the ball but had asked Alicia to pick them up since you were busy scrubbing.

Your fingers were numb from the rigor. As you brought the sponge towards you before pushing it forward, it shifted away from your hand. A frown accompanied by a tilted brow; you expected it to fall into the pot. Yet it continued to scrub and shell the cauldron—just like magic.

The second the thought crossed your mind, your head swung in all directions. Your eyes met the fellow leaning on the door frame with crossed arms and wand out—the ever so familiar missions glint in eyes and smug smirk.

"Hello, m'lady," he said as he went right before you. You tilted your head slightly to the side with a questioning look.

"What?" he asked incredulously.

"Why are you helping me? This is detention, you know," you replied, trying to gauge his purpose in visiting.

"Yes, this is. As a man, I must, however, take responsibility for my lady's actions. You are, in fact, here because of me; is that not correct?" he replied more boisterously.

Your cheeks burned, a combination of frustration and embarrassment.

“First of all, I’m not ‘your lady,’ and second, no one asked you to play knight in shining armor. I can scrub cauldrons perfectly fine on my own.”

George's grin widened, unfazed by your tone. “Oh, I can see that, love. You’re scrubbing so well, you’ve almost got that cauldron to sparkle like new.” He gestured to the pot that was now gleaming under the enchanted sponge’s tireless efforts.

“But wouldn’t you rather spend your Saturday doing something less…” He paused, twirling his wand lazily, “…soul-crushing?”

You crossed your arms, glaring up at him. “And why would you care how I spend my Saturday?”

He shrugged, still smirking. “Call it a guilty conscience. Or maybe I just missed your company. You’ve been avoiding me ever since our little dance lesson, haven’t you?”

Your jaw tightened, the memory of that mortifying class flashing in your mind. “I haven’t been avoiding you,” you said stiffly.

“Oh no?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine.

“So it’s purely coincidence that every time I walk into a room, you suddenly remember an urgent errand in the opposite direction?”

You scowled, willing your heart to stop fluttering like a caged snidget. “Maybe I just don’t enjoy being the subject of every stupid joke in the castle, thanks to you.”

George’s expression softened, his smirk fading into something more genuine. “That wasn’t my intention, you know,” he said quietly.

“I mean, I like a good laugh as much as the next bloke, but not at your expense.”

Your resolve faltered slightly, but you kept your arms crossed. “You didn’t exactly stop it, though, did you? All those rumors, all those stupid comments…”

“I didn’t stop it because I thought you could handle yourself,” George admitted, his gaze locking with yours. “You’re clever, tough, and brilliant. But maybe I underestimated how far people would take it.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and the warmth spreading through your chest was both comforting and infuriating.

“Well,” you said finally, your tone softer than you intended, “maybe next time, don’t underestimate how annoying people can be.”

George chuckled, his usual mischief returning. “Duly noted. So, what do you say? Truce?” He extended his hand, his lopsided grin making your stomach flip.

You hesitated, eyeing his outstretched hand suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, his grin widening. “Just a chance to make it up to you. Starting with getting you out of this dungeon and into the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer. My treat.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m still in detention, Weasley.”

“Details,” he said with a dismissive wave of his wand. “I’m a master of mischief, remember? If anyone asks, I’ll say I kidnapped you.”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugged at your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming,” he quipped, holding his hand out again.

This time, you took it—his hand warm and steady in yours. It was the second time you’d ever held a boy’s hand, and somehow, it felt like the first time it truly mattered.

Professor McGonagall watched from a shadowed corner of the kitchen, arms crossed, her lips twitching upward in an uncharacteristic smile.

"Ridiculously charming, indeed," she muttered softly to herself, adjusting her spectacles. "I always knew those two would find their way to each other."

With a final glance at the pair sneaking out of the dungeon, hand in hand, she turned briskly on her heel. Her work was done—for now. After all, guiding her Gryffindors, even in matters of the heart, was just another part of the job.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley drabble #george weasley imagine #george weasley blurb #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x female reader #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fic #george weasley fanfiction #gryffindor boys

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leclerc-hs · 1 year ago

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ex's and oh's - CL16

pairing: ex!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which you and your ex-boyfriend are in complicated territory OR your ex fucks you in the drivers seat of his car warnings: 18+, SMUT under the cut, badly translated french (pls correct me), not proofread!!!! word count: 2.4k author's note: ok I just want to sincerely apologize for my long absence on here!!! i know you’ve been waiting for me to finish this for a while now LOL but I've been insanely busy balancing life with two jobs lol. So I'm going to leave this here. I can honestly say it's not my best work and I apologize for that but I really wanted to give y'all something in the mean time. I have a bunch of drafts I plan to work on whenever I get the chance. Love you all!! pls forgive me and don't forget to leave me some comments and thoughts xoxo

THERE WAS NOTHING that could’ve prepared you for this fight. You weren’t drunk, as promised. Although you weren’t sober either.

You and Charles were...complicated. Exes but…. still, something more. You would always be something more. Your history stretched back almost forever, and that alone made it challenging to stay apart from each other.

There was a point in time when the aftermath of your breakup made it impossible for both of you to share the same space. It invariably led to bitter arguments over seemingly trivial matters. One such instance was during a movie night with your group of friends when you showed up in a sweatshirt that was far too big for your body, obvious that it wasn’t your own. Charles simmered with silent resentment in the corner until he could no longer contain it. The memory etched vividly in your mind, recalling the knots in your stomach throughout the night, feeling the intense burn of Charles’ gaze upon you. He didn’t cast a single glance at the movie that evening.

“Who’s fucking sweatshirt is that?”

“Already fucking other people, hm?”

As you slid into the familiar supple leather seats of his Ferrari, you felt the warmth of the car hug you like a blanket, providing much relief from the contrast of the cold air outside. In the process of slipping into his car, your skirt had ridden up higher than Charles would’ve preferred, your panties nearly exposed if it weren’t for the sheer tights providing more coverage. Did you really go out dressed like that? He felt his hands grip the steering wheel tighter than normal as a waft of your perfume enveloped the car.

“Did you have fun?” His tone was neutral, but his body posture was tense. He barely turned his head to check if you placed your seat belt on before peeling out from the curb at a speed much too fast.

Sober you would’ve caught onto his attitude almost immediately. But tipsy you, thought nothing of it.

“Oh Charlie!” You exasperated, the click of your seatbelt filling the car as the radio was turned on the lowest possible volume. “It was so fun!”

He dropped one of his hands from the wheel, bringing his hand to rub the scruff of his unshaven jaw, as a deep sigh falls past his lips. He was annoyed—more than annoyed. The sole fact that you left him unanswered for hours wasn’t his only issue. What had his muscles all tight and the permanent frown on his face was the images of one of your guy friends being way too close to you. Too close for Charles liking. It was the same guy that his friends had briefly mentioned weeks ago on his boat.

“Cha, l’aimes-tu toujours?” Do you still love her? His friends sat around the table; half-eaten food left on their plates. He didn’t answer the question immediately. But everyone knew, subconsciously, that he did.

“Elle et Nick été proches récemment,” Her and Nick have been close lately. The phrase alone made Charles choke on his water. In that moment, he thanked the lord for the sunglasses covering his widened eyes. The burn in his chest began simmering as the conversation continued.

“Oui, ne sont-ils pas partis ensemble l’autre soir?” Yeah, didn’t they leave together the other night?

He couldn’t blame his friends for the discussion. They didn’t know that you two were still in complicated territory. Everyone always figured you two would rekindle, but it’s been so long, no one knew if it would happen anymore.

So, although Charles felt like the air was being sucked out of his lungs, he plastered a big smile on his face while throwing his arm around the back of the chair beside him. “Nick, hm?”

He made a genuine effort to control his anger. Honestly, he really did try. However, as you persisted in discussing the night, particularly when the name ‘Nick’ slipped past your lips, he couldn’t help but lose his composure just a little bit.

His voice took on a lethal edge as he maneuvered the car to the side of the desolate road. The act of driving demanded attention, but his mind was a whirlwind of a million thoughts. He was consumed by anger, it oozed from every pore of his skin as he scoffed and turned to confront you. Your eyes were already fixated on him, and his gaze instantly met yours.

“A-t-il touché à toi?” Did he touch you? His voice rumbled like a low growl, and the green in his eyes was so deep and intense that it masked their actual color, making it nearly impossible to discern the green hue. But you memorized those eyes. His eyes. You were familiar with every nuance of shade that adorned them. His breath was slow and even as he awaited your answer.

The idea drove him insane—the notion of another man laying his hands on you. And even worse, you wanting another man’s hands on you.

For a moment, you found yourself taken aback, only to fully comprehend his tense posture and the sharpness in his tone. Suppressing any inclination to react visibly, you wrestled to maintain a neutral expression, ensuring your lips didn’t betray a hint of a smirk at his jealousy. You didn’t even need to ask who he was.

“Et est-ce que cela aurait de l’importance s’il l’avait fait?” And would it matter if he did?

The fact that you didn’t need to even address who he was talking about, only caused him to spiral further. As if you were confirming that Nick is the only other option.

The car felt increasingly smaller as the anger in Charles grew. His knee was bouncing with impatience as he clenched his jaw. Yes. Yes, it fucking mattered. He wanted to shout until his lungs gave out that it mattered. He began to lose the evenness of his breathing pattern, becoming more erratic as you didn’t answer the question.

“Dis-le-moi et nous le découvrirons,” Tell me and we’ll find out. His eyes traced your every movement as your eyes narrowed at him, a scowl forming on your lips. The lips he dreamed about almost every night.

The silence in the car heightened, and with each passing second, you could feel your heart rate quicken. His gaze remained fixated on your face, unwilling to divert elsewhere. It was as if he were a predator, and you, his prey, captivated under the unrelenting focus of his eyes.

“What? No snarky remarks for me?” C’mon play with me. Although he felt like his chest might crack in two, he needed to mask it. Needed to be nonchalant.

The tension lingered until you took a sharp swallow, the muscles in your neck twitching, that his eyes shifted, descending to the nape of your neck. They fixated on the subtle gleam of your collarbones, still glistening with a thin sheen of sweat from the night’s dancing. His gaze traced the gentle rise and fall of your breasts with each breath. He wanted to devour you whole.

You felt your thighs clench slightly from his pressuring gaze. He is so fucking hot. His hair in complete disarray from running his hands through it. He wore a pair of grey sweats and a black hoodie that made you want to cling your body around him as soon as you saw him.

“Y a-t-il quelque chose entre vous deux?” Is there something between you two? His patience was wearing thin. You still haven’t answered his question, and the silence was eating him alive.

You detected a subtle waver in his tone, prompting a softening in your gaze. Your hand gently reached for his face, and he allowed his head to lean ever so slightly against the palm of your hand. It was as if your touch alone had the power to appease the turmoil of anger and jealousy rising within him.

And as much as you loved to get under his skin like he did yours sometimes. You couldn’t find it in you to provoke him. To cause him any pain. “No.”

The corner of his lips twitched up slightly as your thumb brushed against his jawline. His hands tremble when they reach for you, pulling you out of your seat and across the center console into his lap. “Est-ce que cela aurait de l’importance?” Would it matter? You repeated the question as your legs straddled him. His hands slid around your waist, resting on your backside in a tight grip, so you couldn’t move.

His mouth formed into a hardened line, as if he forced it to show you just how serious he was when he answered. “Bien sûr que cela a de l’importance,” Of course it matters.

“Porquoi?” Why?

“Why?” He repeats your question. Scoffing at the fact that you even had to ask him. As if you didn’t already know why.

You suck in a sharp breath as soon as his warm tongue meets with the nape of your neck, trailing hot and wet kisses up until his lips meet yours for a moment before pulling away.

“Mon coeur t’appartient.” My heart is yours. There was no questioning in his words. “Il a toujours été tien.” It’s always been yours. As those words hung in the air, your breath caught. You love this man. You love this man with every fiber of your being.

His fingers gripped onto your thighs with an almost bruising intensity, as if he needed to confirm your presence by feeling you in his hands, ensuring you weren’t a figment of his imagination. His nails traced along the thin fabric at the apex of your thigh, before digging them in and tearing them open instantly. You let out an audible moan as his fingers found immediate solace to the damp spot on your underwear. Of course, you were already wet just by looking at him.

“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me? He questioned, adding slight pressure to your cotton covered clit.

You moaned in delight at the contact but did not answer his question. It drove him mad.

His fingers slipped past your underwear, shoving them to the side, and slipping his fingers into your heated core. His fingers curled, hitting the spot you needed him most just right. Your back arched, barely grazing the horn of the steering wheel. Your hands were frantic, reaching for the waistband of his grey sweats as Charles lifted in hips off his seat to help you.

“Oh fuck,” You moaned out loud. The pace of Charles’ fingers had you careening forward with a cry, before he pulled them out of you completely, leaving you shouting “No!”.

“Relax cherie,” He clicked his tongue before pulling your chest flush with his, raising you up an inch to slide his cock right into you. He groaned as your pussy clenched tightly around him, squeezing him so tight he could barely focus on anything else. He held you down against him, letting neither of you move.

It wasn’t until you fully sat, completely full of him, that he rips the buttons of your shirt open, revealing a lacy ensemble across your chest. He traces the tip of his finger along cup of your breast and says, “Did you wear this on purpose, hm?”

You shook your head, wiggling your hips with a groan. You needed to move, needed to feel the force of his cock into you, but he wouldn’t let you. He just held your hips down as if he was waiting for something.

"You feel so good," He groans. "Squeezing me so tight."

“Cha, please.” You begged, getting agitated at the lack of movement.

“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me? He repeats again. A grin stretched across his features at your obvious struggle. The fact that you needed his cock this badly, had him only growing harder.

You bit your lip as Charles’ fingers sprawled across your neck in a tight grip, pulling your face to his. Close enough that your noses were touching.

“Réponds, et je suis tout à toi.” Answer, and I’m all yours.

“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me?

You don’t know what held you back from answering before. Because you did. He knew you did. He just needed to hear the words from your lips. Needed the reassurance that this was more than a quick fuck to you.

“Oui!” Yes! You half-shouted, eyes blown wide with need. “I will always love you!”

His hand released your hips, giving you the immediate go-ahead. You wasted no time, working yourself over his cock, moans eliciting from the both of you almost instantly. His hands slid to cup your ass, controlling your movements as he urges you to move faster.

“Mon dieu,” Charles groaned, his fingers dipping into the cup of your lacy ensemble, rolling your nipples between his index finger and thumb. “Je t’aime,” I love you.

The mere utterance of those words had you instinctively squeezing his cock with an intensified fervor, bringing you perilously close to the brink of ecstasy. A sly smirk played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the effect his declaration had on you.

You moved your hips faster, the bounce of your breasts had Charles in a trance before he brought his eyes back to your face, looking you deep in the eyes. “Je t’aime,” He muttered again, bringing his lips to your mouth, swallowing your moans as if they were the oxygen he needed to breathe. “C’mon, give it to me.” He begged, thrusting his hips upward into you as much as he could, eyes rolling to the back of his head until you both reach that point of ecstasy you both needed.

His face was bright red, cheeks flushed, as you worked yourself over him in a hurried pace. His sweatshirt no doubt, making him feel like a furnace, as sweat forms near his eyebrow. His eyes were wild, unsure where to look until they met with your eyes. His cock twitching inside of you from the clench of your pussy on him, and the gaze of your eyes.

“Je t’aime!” You shouted, releasing all over him and falling forward in exhaustion onto Charles chest.

Charles groaned hotly into your ear, his release catching him completely off guard due to the words you uttered. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest as you rested against it.

“Mon Coeur est à toi.” My heart is yours. His fingers caressed the ends of your hair behind your back. The both of you made no attempts to move.

“Mon Coeur est à toi.” My heart is yours. You repeat back to him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc angst #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #charles leclerc x you #cl16 x reader

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kooggukk · 5 months ago

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𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 NOBODY ELSE // JJK

genre: fwb, fuck buddies😼

note: guys i just want jungkook.. this has been sitting in my drafts for way too long haha sorry for spelling mistakes or anything i got too lazy to proofread it lol! enjoy tho💕

word count: 4.3k

being invited by jungkook’s mother for a dinner was normal for you and your family. you and jungkook grew up being neighbors, attend to the same high school and college later on — which he dropped out of.

it wasn’t because he’s dumb, he’s nowhere near that. he got bored, tired. his mother didn’t like the news when he told her, but she didn’t have a choice, other than to support his dream. jungkook always wished to be a singer.

some of his closest friends joked about it and laughed at the idea of jungkook being a worldwide celebrity. we could say that affected him a lot, he felt zero support from both sides: family & friends. he would often spend his days in his house, sitting on a particular part of his couch.

maybe you know him too well, you know that when he’s writing a song he would get a glass of beer, place it carefully on his coffee table, get his black notebook with his pen that he would click continuously when he’s deep in thoughts.

you know he would knee on the soft mattress beneath him, sitting on his feet like a cutie, focus on the lyrics with his big doe eyes.

you also know he would obviously play with his lip piercing, licking it, turning his tongue around it and what not. oh what that tongue can do.

the amount of times he had eaten you out on his couch, — on that spot of the couch — you wouldn’t even be able to count on your ten fingers. your friendship with him was different.

different, because you support him and understand him in a way nobody else had yet. but different because he fucks you, like crazy. he had fucked you in every way possible. fast, rough, deep, gentle, slow, anal. the last one was just once, though.

it all started at your birthday party, when you turned 25. you got wasted, he got tipsy, he knew about his whereabouts unlike you. he knew what was going on when he fucked you first, but what was he supposed to do when a woman like you, was literally begging to fuck you.

he felt guilty, he felt like he took advantage of the alcohol in your system. but when you woke up in the morning, with jungkook next to you, cuddled up, you didn’t freak out. you knew what happened, and you didn’t regret it. nor did he.

you know it shouldn’t be right, that it shouldn’t feel that good to get fucked by your best friend but god, you can’t help it. he admitted it, he finds you attractive. you find him it too.

but you both talked it out, no feelings. he told you he’d never want anything else from you other than your friendship and pussy.

and now, you’re sitting at the dining table with jungkook in front of you, his mother next to him and his father at the end. your mother on the other end as your father is next to you.

it’s normal, the atmosphere was comfortable and funny. the adults discussing work related stuff, your and his mother had already gossiped about someone else too.

it was a perfect night, except that jungkook hasn’t taken his eyes off of you the entire dinner, except when he got asked a question. you scolded him, non verbally with your eyes.

he’s a jerk. he just fucked you the night before, not on his couch this time though. it was in his kitchen, where he got too turned on by seeing you cut a cucumber. yes, a dang cucumber.

“so ___, i heard you finished college.” his mother spoke to you, your gaze turned to her and you smiled. “oh yes, last week actually.”

“what major were you in?” his father joined in. “psychology.” your mother interrupted and reached over to rub your back, feeling extremely proud of her daughter. you smiled, “i’m thinking about going back, i’ve been researching a lot on nursing lately.”

your eyes stopped on jungkook once again. he’s leaned back in the chair, one arm resting on the back of his mother’s chair, the other resting on his thigh. his chin is slightly lifted, looking at you as he plays with his lip piercing. fuck.

the parents continued the conversation, telling different stories about nurses as that came up. jungkook leans back to the table, resting his chin with his hands, elbows on the table.

he stares at you, not uttering a single word. you give him a small frown, not too noticeable. his eyes drop to your neck, then your chest or atleast what only was visible, then back to your eyes. you chuckled and shook your head in disbelief, he’s seriously thinking of sex right now.

you’ve tried to keep your ‘let’s fuck’ relationship with jungkook private, not going around and telling every second person that ‘hey i fuck my best friend!’. the only person who might know that you and him slept together is one of your friends from college, she saw you and jungkook that one night. the first night.

she hasn’t asked about it though, thankfully. it’s not like it was her business, so she dropped it. you knew he wouldn’t try anything with you in public, especially not in front of your parents. so that’s why it caught you off guard when you felt his leg touch yours, slightly nudging it.

you cleared your throat as you jumped a little from the surprise, a smirk on his lips as he stared at your flustered form. you cussed him out in your head, ‘fuck you’ you mouthed and he just raised a brow at that.

you rolled your eyes as you realized he wouldn’t mind that, his eyes still devouring the sight of you, almost fucking you with his eyes at this point. you don’t even wanna know what he’s thinking about at the moment.

“jungkookie, have you found yourself a girlfriend?” your mother asked, catching his attention. he fixed his posture and shook his head, “no, i’m not looking for a relationship at the moment.”

“he’s such a liar!” his mother pointed at him, “i know he’s seeing someone.” she said and took a sip of her wine. “am i?” he raised his eyebrow, his voice laced with confusion. “deny it all you want, but i found a lipstick in your pocket when you came home.”

his expression changed, his eyes somewhat turned nervous, scared even. you stared at him with a small smirk, taking a sip of your soda. he glanced at you, “must’ve been ___’s.” he chuckled and shook his head.

“and why would her lipstick be in your pocket?” his mother asked, obviously she didn’t believe him. “we came here together, i believe she put it there so she could use it if her makeup gets smudged.” he shrugged.

he was right, that was in fact the reason you put it there. “oh yeah, it’s mine.” you said, a small smile appearing on your lips. his mother nodded and with that the conversation was over. thank god.

as everyone finished eating, your and his mother disappeared into the kitchen, your fathers went outside to have a beer while ‘man talking’ or however they called it. leaving you and jungkook alone.

“you wanna die?” you scolded him, your voice was quiet not to get caught. “i swear junkook, i’ll choke you.” he grinned and rested his head on his hands, smiling at you like a child. “what?” you asked.

“choke me? is that your new kink?” he teased, his foot finding yours again under the table. you clicked your tongue and crossed your arms, “do you ever stop thinking about sex?”

“nope. impossible when you’re around me, babe.” there he goes again, he always somehow finds a way to get you hot. he just knows what to say every time. “you’re unbelievable.” you can’t help but to smile with a shake of your head.

“what? you’re acting like you didn’t just strip me off with your eyes.” he teased and you gasped, “i did not-“ you stuttered, you got caught. “you’re the one to speak.” you argued back.

“i’m not denying it, i did wish to rip that pretty blouse off you.”

“i dare you, it was expensive. the only thing ripping will be your balls when i beat you up.” he scoffed at your words. “c’mon, you wouldn’t do that.”

“you think so?” you raised an eyebrow and he hummed in response. “how would i fuck you without balls?” again, he just knows what to say to drive you crazy.

“touché.” you mumbled and raised your glass to take a sip again.

✩•.𖣠°˙★

the evening came to an end as you both bid goodbye to your parents, you thanked his mother for the delicious meal. he offered to take you home and you agreed, assuming you’d end up at his place anyways. but your parents didn’t have to know about that.

and it happened just like that, the moment you stepped in his home you were pushed to the wall with force. you gasped, jungkook didn’t leave a single second for you to react as he attacked your lips, kissing you.

he held your face in place by your cheeks, your small reticule dropped from your hand as you hugged him close, kissing him back with just as much force and desperation as he did.

his right hand went to grab your ass, then holding your thigh as you lifted it up. he immediately pushed himself closer to you, grinding his growing erection against you.

not wanting to fuck you right at the front door, he dragged you to his living room, pushing you on the couch. he grinned at you and he dropped to his knees, the loud thud must have been hurtful, but he didn’t waste a single second.

he eagerly gripped the hem of your jeans, undoing it and pulling it off you, lifting your hips to help him. “hm, good.” he praised you for that small action of yours, his voice enough to create an ocean in your panties.

he touched your knees and thighs, caressing your skin while he leaned in to plant kisses on your inner thigh. he pulled you a little down, holding your legs tightly and he spread them. “don’t close.” he demanded, his voice hoarse and it sent you shivers down your spine.

you gasped once again when you felt him kiss you on your panties, he pulled away to take off his black turtleneck sweater but went right back in, pulling off your panties in a second.

the cold air hit your core immediately, but soon replaced by the heat coming from his body. he licked a stripe down your pussy, getting a hum out of you at the familiar feeling of his mouth working on you.

your mouth fell agape when he sucked on your clit, your hands finding their way to his black hair, getting a great hold of them. he groaned at your action, he knows you like to get a hold of his hair, so he hasn’t cut it in some months now.

he pulled away, you almost whined about him stopping but then he spread your folds with his fingers, spreading your wetness on his digits. he glanced up at you when he brought them to his lips, licking them.

he hummed, “love it.” he said, his voice a low growl. one of his hand rests on your thigh, gripping it softly. the other goes to your core again, inserting his finger in you. his head goes back down, disappearing between your legs once again as he starts sucking again, his finger pumping into you.

your back arched, unintentionally. “oh, fuck,” your breath hitched, he smirked against you. he added another of his long digits, curling them inside you, he pulled away as he stared into your eyes, then his gaze dropped to his hand working on you.

he groaned at the sight, he’s slept with girls before you, it was obvious he was experienced, but he could swear on his life your pussy was the prettiest he has ever seen in his whole life.

“so pretty,” his voice was teasing and you gasped his name, pulling his head up. “shut up,” your voice was a low murmur and he raised an eyebrow at your sass.

“what? can’t i call what’s mine pretty?” he chuckled and shook his head, secretly adding a third finger. “i don’t want your fingers,” you whined, your hips moving on their own. “i need to get you stretched, babe.” he grinned and he continued, his three fingers now going in a slower pace.

“no,” you stopped his hand, “i’m okay, just-“ you licked your lips, his gaze dropping to them. “shit, just fuck me already.” your voice was more like a whisper, full of need. “you’re tight, i don’t want to hurt you.” he argued back, but his fingers were already out of you as he wiped them in his jeans.

you sat up straight on the couch, closing your legs. “c’mon, you fucked me enough already. i can take you,” he couldn’t help but to let out a small laugh and he nodded, “love that you speak your mind.”

with that said, he got up from the floor and leaned down to kiss your forehead, “i’ll be back,” that one small action of his is why you trust him, how you know that he is the right guy to be fuck buddies with.

he can be rough during sex, there’s no doubt in that, but you had experienced gentle sex too with him. roughness isn’t always necessary to get rid of the sexual frustration, and maybe, maybeeeee, you like it more when he’s gentle with you.

you like it more when his body is pressed against yours, slowly moving with the rhythm of his deep thrusts, you love it when he goes to hold your hand, either above your head or next to you, it doesn’t matter. you love it when he stares in your eyes with every thrust. unlike during rough sex, when his eyes are either closed or focused on your tits.

soon he comes back, a pack of condom with him, some tissues and a towel. “what’s the towel for?” you ask, he never brought one before. he smiled at that and when he got to you, he plopped down on the couch. “just in case.” he shrugged but you felt suspicious, he was up to something.

he put everything aside and leaned in, crashing his lips on yours once again. “how do you want it?” he asked when he pulled away, but he still managed to give a soft peck on your nose.

you frowned because he usually wasn’t like this, wasn’t so affectionate. sure, in other ways he was, especially after sex. he always takes care of you, but he never just pecks you in random places and asks how you want it.

“however you want me.” you shrugged. “you’re up to something, you’re suspicious.” you narrowed your eyes at him and he grinned. “suspicious?” he asked as he started to unbutton your blouse. you hummed and leaned back, letting him do it.

“i’m not suspicious.” he said and kissed the skin just above your breasts, he pulled the clothing off your shoulders when he finished with all the buttons, leaving you in your bra.

“you’re very detailed tonight, aren’t you?” you sighed and reached behind, undoing your bra with a smooth move. “detailed?” he frowned and reached to his belt, unbuckling it.

you hummed and reached to unzip his jeans, with a lift of his hips you pulled it down, his dick begging to be freed from his white underwear. you could feel yourself throb by just the thought of having sex with him again, when in fact you just did it yesterday too.

“it don’t bite.” jungkook chuckled when he saw you were just staring, god, almost drooling at this point. you rolled your eyes, holding the hem of the underwear. you pulled it off, his dick sprang free.

you could let anyone call you stupid, you don’t care but for sure you know that jungkook’s dick is pretty. of course it would be, that whole man is a god. he sighed in pleasure when you wrapped your fingers around him, his head thrown back.

you started off slowly, stroking him with smooth, unrushed moves as you watched his face. his eyes closed, mouth open and eyebrows knitted together. soon you picked up your pace, earning low groans and sometimes even moans from him.

you started to kiss his neck, nibbling on his soft skin. he cursed, it was his favorite when you kissed his body. his breaths came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving with every breath he took.

“shit, ___.” he uttered a low groan, “don’t stop, oh- please..” you hummed at his begging, jerking him off as fast as you could. he was close, you know well enough to see when he has an orgasm.

you see the way his thighs occasionally stiff, his grip on the pillow that reached his hand first is tight. and then you see his eyes staring down at you, sometimes rolling back and closing, then opening them again. you see how his mouth is agape, his low groans turning into soft moans and cries, his brows crashed together on his forehead.

he was just straight up mesmerizing. sometimes you felt like the luckiest woman on earth that you could capture him in this state. which he was in because of you, nobody else.

“please plea-“ his voice cracked, ending it with a louder moan as he reached his orgasm, spilling his white juice on your hand. you didn’t stop there, you slowed down your pace, but you just couldn’t stop.

he hissed when he started to feel sensitive, bringing his head straight back up from the backrest to look at you. “___, don’t,” he whined. you cupped his chin, pressing a soft, feather-light kiss on his rosy lips.

he lazily responded to it, barely moving his lips. he brought his hand on yours, stopping you from jerking him. you pulled away, “just give me a second, babe,” his voice came out hoarse, your heart skipped a beat and your pussy throbbed by the nickname.

he licked his lips, clearing his voice. “you still with me?” you smiled, your hand reaching to his hair, gently pulling a few strands of them. he scoffed and fixed his posture, his hand grabbing your thigh.

“you gotta do more than just a handjob to lose me.”

“more? i can do more.” you mumbled, your face already in his neck, kissing his skin once again.

“i know you can,” his hand went from your thigh to your hip, helping you straddle his lap. you both moved naturally, riding him is definitely in your top 3 positions.

you quickly handed him a condom from the box which he put on in a second and just like every time, your arms went around his neck, grabbing onto his shoulder while he hugged your body close to his with one of his arms, the other hand holding his cock, he carefully entered, stretching you good like he always does.

he sighed in content, enjoying your warm walls clenching around him. you hummed, letting yourself down completely on him, only to go back up, then to smash back down.

his hands grabbed your ass while you did that, helping you keep the steady rhythm. his head was now thrown back once again, you watched his adam’s apple bob when he swallowed, his mouth fell open.

you kissed his neck again, wherever you could reach. for some reason, it was your favorite spot to kiss, under his jaw, behind and under his ear, just right above his collarbone, you loved it.

oh how much he loved it too, your kisses were always wet but never to the point to leave his skin covered in saliva. you were always so gentle with him, maybe that’s what he loved the most.

he had been with a few girls before who would stupidly and harshly just bite down on his skin, leaving ugly marks all over his neck and shoulders, but with you, never. it could be to just avoid any attention by giving him hickies, or it could be because you found it too intimate, too romantic.

whatever the reason was, he knew he sometimes wished, maybe even prayed that this time you would mark him, even if it’s the smallest spot on his skin. of course, he would never tell you to do that, though. marking really does feel too intimate, and he was afraid he would cross a line with you.

he realized what he was missing out on, so he held his head up, looking at you move. your breasts moved just enough to catch his eyes. his fingers dug in your asscheeks as your own hands explored his body, from caressing his chest, then slightly brushing your fingers over his nipples, down to his ribs, and to his abs.

he felt you slowing down, “s’okay, take a break,” he whispered and you did so, stopping your movements. your chest was rising rapidly, sweat forming on both of your foreheads.

he softly pecked your cheek, lifting you up by your ass just enough so he can start pushing upwards into you. he didn’t rush anything, going slowly at a comfortable pace. “you okay?” he asked, his eyes searching for yours.

you sighed, giving him a nod but he shook his head. “words,” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss your skin just above your breasts.

“i’m okay,”

he groaned when you clenched around him, he felt himself slowly slipping down on the couch with each thrust he made, so he held you tightly, switching positions.

he made you lay down on your back, your legs wrapped around his waist without slipping out of you. he picked up a slow pace at first, his hands roaming around your body, mostly your sides.

you held his hand, “stop,” you whined, your sides are hella ticklish. “hm? what? can’t handle a little caressing?” he teased, moving his hand so slightly over your skin you got goosebumps.

you tried to push his hand away but you failed, his touches made you giggle and he smiled, glad he could still have moments like this with you in the middle of literally fucking.

all of that stopped when he suddenly smashed himself deep into you, a little harder than he did before. you couldn’t help but to moan, he straightened his posture and he spread your legs, holding your knees.

just like when you were riding him, your breasts bounced again, drawing the attention on them. he picked up the speed of his thrusts, sweat dropping from his forehead, down to his chest where it slowly dripped down his body.

“so a nurse, huh?” he suddenly said, referring to the conversation you had at the dinner. “would love to fuck this pussy in a nursing costume.” a low moan left his mouth when you clenched around him, “ya like that?” he laughed. “you want it too, yeah?”

“shut up- oh my!” your mouth fell agape in pleasure when you felt a finger pressing down on your clit, moving in every way possible. up and down, side to side, making circles. he wasn’t too rough, he knew it was one of your most sensitive parts of your body.

the top of his thighs slapped against the back of yours with every thrust, the sound of skin slapping on each other got mixed with the noise of your wet folds taking his dick, the couch slightly creaking along with heavy breathing and occasional quiet moans, whines.

you felt yourself getting closer and closer, the familiar feeling already in your stomach. you felt like you were going to explode, your eyes shut tightly as you bite down on your lip, your body ready to let go.

after a few more of his thrusts you let go, but oh! turns out it wasn’t just your usual orgasm, no, you squirted under him. he pulled out, watching your body shake and then slowly relax. “fuck,” you breathed heavily, you could have sworn you saw stars.

“did i s-“

“yes. you squirted.” he said, like that was something casual. you thought it was over, that he was done but then he did the unexpected, he pushed back in. “just a little- longer,” his words came out in gasps, pounding into you to reach his own climax too.

you whined, you felt extremely sensitive and it was slowly turning to be the opposite of pleasure, “i know, just a little more,” his voice was soft, he knew it was too much but he needed that orgasm.

then, his thrusts suddenly stopped, staying still inside you as he filled the condom, a low groan leaving his lips. he licked them, feeling like his mouth just turned drier than a desert. he pulled out and leaned down to peck your lips, “you did good,” he whispered.

you hummed, your fingers already touching your core, the wetness surprising you. “dang..” you both chuckled, you sat up and looked down, feeling uncomfortable. there was a wet spot on the towel under you, “you bitch, that’s why you needed the towel.” you shook your head in disbelief, “scared i’ll stain your sofa?”

he smiled and tilted his head, resting his ass on his heels. “actually, yes. you know it was expensive.”

“then, maybe you shouldn’t fuck me on it?”

he chuckled, “maybe, but i don’t care. you’re worth it all.”

#bts #bts jungkook #bts x reader #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x yn #bts smut

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mydearestbeloved · 8 months ago

Text

Chapter 9 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

Jinwoo had been mulling over a simple, yet increasingly puzzling question: How does one even contact you?

Despite weeks of fighting together, not once had he taken the initiative to reach out. The strange thing? You two hadn’t even exchanged numbers. You either planned your next raid before parting ways, or—more recently—you would simply show up because of your own schedule, or a butterfly of yours would come to him first.

The answer came to him, in a way that felt both obvious and absurd. Your butterflies.

Jinwoo wasn’t one to wait idly for answers, so he decided to test his theory. Concentrating on the familiar presence of your aura, he extended his hand, replicating that feeling in his mind. Moments later, one of your butterflies—the one that often remained hidden nearby, perhaps acting as your eyes—fluttered into view, landing lightly on his open palm.

Its wings faltered slightly, as if in acknowledgment.

This might actually work.

Closing his eyes, Jinwoo focused on the connection he had felt before, the distinct feeling of the red butterfly communicating with him.

Take me to her.

He didn’t know if it would respond, but soon enough, the butterfly took off, guiding him through the city.

---

He found you in the Hunter’s Market, haggling with a merchant. You were engaged in a rather intense back-and-forth, and judging by the merchant’s begrudging look, you were winning. In your hands, Jinwoo caught sight of what looked like a dormant magic beast egg, likely the reason for the negotiation.

"You're late."

You greeted him without even turning around, continuing to inspect the wares. Jinwoo raised an eyebrow. Not even a flicker of surprise from you. It was becoming clear that not much could catch you off guard.

By now, he was getting used to your way of doing things. "I need to talk to you."

There was an unspoken understanding between you that this wasn’t a conversation for public ears.

As you continued to browse the market, you hummed in acknowledgment. "I need to talk to you about some things too. Let’s continue this conversation in my domain. I’ll be done here in a few."

Jinwoo froze, staring at your back in confusion.

“Domain?"

"Dungeon," you corrected nonchalantly, still focused on the items displayed before you, your words casual as if you were discussing the weather.

Jinwoo’s brain paused for a moment.

"You own a dungeon?"

At that, you paused, a beat of silence passing before you turned toward him with a curious tilt of your head. "Did I never mention it before?"

"..."

"Ah."

For a split second, Jinwoo had the very distinct and rare urge to pinch your cheek. But instead, he just stared, half-amused, half-incredulous. You owned a dungeon, and you were mentioning it in the most off-handed way possible.

Of course, you would be the kind of person to forget to bring up owning something like that.

And just like that, another piece of the puzzle that was you fell into place, though Jinwoo knew he had only barely scratched the surface.

---

Jinwoo couldn't help but feel a rising sense of disbelief as he followed you into the alley. He had barely come to terms with the revelation that you owned a dungeon. Even now, he had to force himself to stop asking questions before they overwhelmed him.

He kept telling himself, Stay calm. Just get to a private place. Ask your questions there.

But, of course, fate had other plans.

As if summoned by his very thoughts, a glowing portal materialized in front of them with a soft hum. Jinwoo froze mid-step, his eyes widening. The gate was far smaller than the typical ones he had encountered, just big enough to fit a full-grown adult comfortably—yet there was no mistaking it for anything but a dungeon gate. The shimmering silver-white wisps that surrounded it were unlike any other, almost blending with rainbow-like accents at the edges. It looked... strange, subdued compared to the usual ethereal blues and reds, but somehow still powerful.

It was just his luck.

Jinwoo had been trying to push the thousand and one questions flooding his mind to the back of his thoughts, but now, they came rushing back in full force. He glanced at you, but you didn’t even seem phased by the sudden appearance of the portal. Instead, you waved him forward, as if portals and dungeons appeared in alleyways every day.

He hesitated for a split second but, deciding it was better to follow your lead than be left behind in confusion, he stepped forward, his senses alert. The instant he crossed the threshold of the gate, everything seemed to shift. The world around him blurred for a second before stabilizing again, and he found himself standing in a vast open temple-like structure.

It was nothing like the harsh, ominous dungeons he’d been to before.

The structure was grand, with high ceilings and pillars that seemed to stretch endlessly upwards. The atmosphere had an air of serenity to it, something so starkly different from what he expected when entering a dungeon. But it didn’t end there. As he followed you forward, stepping through what looked like the entrance of a colossal, ancient temple, Jinwoo’s gaze was drawn outward.

The view beyond the floating temple was breathtaking.

The sight was nothing short of a dreamscape. Lush forests and vast gardens stretched far beyond what the eye could see. Gentle rivers meandered through valleys, their sparkling waters catching the sunlight. Towering, misty mountains loomed in the distance, and there were labyrinthine paths that seemed to lead into hidden areas, mysterious domed structures rising proudly in the distance. The land appeared to have been untouched by time, ancient and majestic in its quiet beauty.

It felt more like a paradise than any dungeon Jinwoo had ever seen.

This is a dungeon?

"I know, right?" you spoke, breaking his thoughts, your voice playful. "Trust me, the first time I got here, I thought I was dead and that this was paradise."

Jinwoo’s eyes flicked to you in surprise.

But you continued walking calmly ahead without a glance back, seeming completely at ease, at home.

This place, this dungeon, was a paradox. It was both beautiful and dangerous, serene and lethal. As you moved forward, he couldn’t help but make comparisons. It reminded him of the butterflies—so ethereal, so delicate, yet with a deadly bite.

Like you, Jinwoo realized.

As if sensing his thoughts, you shot him a brief glance over your shoulder. Your eyes caught his for a moment before you turned back ahead, leading him forward through the landscape. Jinwoo shook his head, his thoughts momentarily swirling. But something made him froze in his steps.

He watched you from behind, the soft fluttering of butterflies surrounding you, some of them trailing closely behind, others flitting about aimlessly.

One butterfly, the familiar red one, fluttered close to you and landed delicately on your finger. You brought it up to your lips and kissed it gently, a soft, quiet action that felt impossibly tender.

Divine.

Jinwoo couldn’t help but wonder again, and for some reason, his pulse quickened. But, before he could dwell too much on his absurd thoughts, he shook his head and hurried to catch up with you.

---

The two of you continued walking until you reached a beautiful outdoor gazebo. The serene atmosphere of the garden, complete with a quiet pond surrounded by vibrant flowers, made it feel just like the rest of this space shouldn’t had been, a paradise. The soft trickle of water from nearby waterfalls added to the peaceful ambiance. On the table in front of the gazebo, there was tea and snacks laid out, ready for the conversation he knew he had to have with you.

Jinwoo sat down across from you, his mind buzzing with questions. He had so many things he wanted to know, and yet, he wasn’t sure where to start.

You, on the other hand, took a sip of your tea, completely at ease, before setting it down. You studied him quietly for a moment, perhaps waiting for him to speak first.

It took a moment, but Jinwoo finally asked, "This place... this dungeon. How did you come to own it?"

You sighed, leaning back in your chair, looking out over the garden for a moment as if gathering your thoughts. "Ah, yes. The story of how I got this place. It’s not simple, but I suppose I owe you an explanation."

You paused, seeming to gather yourself. "The truth is, this dungeon was here long before I ever arrived. In fact, I... was lost here when I was a child."

Jinwoo blinked, surprised. You—lost?

You continued, seemingly unfazed by his reaction. "I was barely a teen when I stumbled into it. The Trial System... it didn’t exactly help me, if you know what I mean. But it gave me a challenge I couldn’t ignore. To leave this place, I had to defeat the dungeon’s guardians."

Guardians? Bosses? Multiple?

You caught his gaze, raising an eyebrow as if to ask if that was a question. Jinwoo didn’t say anything, but his mind whirled. It was clear that this place wasn’t like any other dungeon he’d ever encountered.

"So, how did you own it?" he asked, his voice quieter now, as if trying to make sense of this all.

“The Trial System gave it to me as a... reward, I guess,” you said, a faint smile playing on your lips. "It’s mine now, in every sense of the word. And because I own it, I can summon it whenever I need to. I can open a portal to it and leave at will." You looked at him, eyes gleaming. "That’s how I was able to summon that gate earlier. It’s a... special gift."

Jinwoo absorbed the information, slowly piecing it together. "So, you can teleport anywhere?”

“Not exactly, I need to have a clear picture of where I want to go." You shrugged nonchalantly.

Jinwoo exhaled sharply, his thoughts swirling. As much as he wanted to ask more—wanted to demand answers—he felt something within him pull him back. This was your secret to reveal, in your own time.

So, instead of questioning you further, he allowed himself a moment of quiet contemplation. You seemed to know what he was thinking. With a soft smile, you raised your cup again and said, "I don’t mind sharing more, Jinwoo. But just know, some things are better left unsaid.”

Jinwoo nodded, his gaze lingering on you. He would get the answers he was looking for, one way or another. But for now, he would have to trust you—because there was no other choice.

---

Jinwoo stared at you, completely flabbergasted, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You have to what now?"

You sighed, sinking a bit deeper into the seat of the gazebo, as if this whole conversation were some kind of exhausting memory you'd rather not dig up. "I have to level up my skills manually. Yes. Manually."

You could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to wrap his mind around it. "Wait, so… no shortcuts? No automatic leveling?"

"None." You let out a dramatic groan, leaning back and stretching your arms out. "The system basically made me work my way up through blood, sweat, and endless labor. You’d think the trial version would offer at least some quality-of-life updates, but nope. If I wanted to get better at farming, I had to actually go out and till the fields. If I wanted to improve cooking… yeah, let’s just say that was a nightmare."

Jinwoo blinked, half in shock, half in amusement. "Wait… so, all those skills that the system grants—crafting, mining, cooking—you had to actually do all those things?"

"Yep," you replied, with a roll of your eyes. "No instant boosts for me. While you get to succeed or fail with crafting based on your intelligence stat, I actually had to sit down and grind every skill point myself. And, of course, I started off just as badly as you’d expect.”

He tried to picture it and stifled a laugh. "So you’re telling me… you burned a boiled egg?”

"Listen," you huffed, giving him an exasperated look. "It was the lowest-level cooking skill, okay? Apparently, it was so low that I couldn't even be trusted to make something as simple as a boiled egg. Somehow, it just… burned." You buried your face in your hands, grumbling, "It’s still a mystery to me how boiling water and an egg turned into charcoal. But that was my life. Trial version for the win."

Jinwoo couldn’t hold back his laugh anymore, and the sound of it filled the air, rich and full of genuine amusement. "You? Burning an egg? You?"

"Hey, don’t laugh! It’s not funny," you protested and pouted at him. "Let’s just say I made my fair share of… tragic cooking attempts before my skill level got high enough to handle basic meals without a disaster."

You watched him try to stifle his laughter, but your own lips twitched, betraying a smile as well. "And it wasn’t just cooking," you added. "Farming was another story. I didn’t even know the basics—soil preparation, crop rotation, pest control. Do you have any idea how long it took me to produce anything that wasn't... wilted? Even mining was brutal. There I was, chipping away with an old pickaxe for hours just to get a sliver of ore."

He shook his head, still grinning. "Looks like you went through your own personal training arc as well."

"Of course I do." you agreed with a snort. "If the system hadn’t taken feedback from me eventually, you’d be the one cursing it out every time you tried to do something simple. But yeah, thankfully, the system decided to cut you a break. Guess my suffering counted for something, after all."

You straightened in your seat and took a sip of your tea, a satisfied smirk crossing your face. "But at least, once I got a skill to a decent level, it stayed there. Permanent. I don’t have to touch a frying pan for years, and the skill level’s still as good as ever. And the skills I invested in heavily—those have even broader effects."

Jinwoo’s brow furrowed, curious now. "Broader effects?"

You nodded, glancing up thoughtfully as if reliving memories. "Take my language skill, for example. I leveled it up while studying Monster Tongue, which was excruciating at first. But once I maxed out that skill, learning other languages was a breeze. The system gave me a boost, kind of like an automatic enhancement for anything similar. If I tried learning another language now, it’d be easy compared to when I first started out.”

He gave a low whistle. "So basically, the more you leveled up, the easier it became to learn things related to that skill?"

"Exactly." You placed your cup back on the saucer with a gentle clink. "Though there’s a catch. Back then, whenever the system went through an update, some skills would get expanded. The cap would get set higher, and I’d have to grind all over again to max them out."

You gave him a look of exasperation. "Imagine maxing out a skill only for the system to update and say, 'Hey, you can go up to Level 50 now instead of 30!' That happened so many times, I lost count."

Jinwoo leaned back, his expression growing more serious. "So… what happens now? Are you stuck with your current stats forever?"

You took a slow breath, letting the question sink in before nodding. "That’s exactly it. Since the trial stage ended when you became the player, there haven’t been any more updates. My levels, skills, and stats… they’re frozen as they are. I can’t adjust my stats, I can’t level anything up, that’s why I don’t get EXP anymore. It’s like I’m in a kind of… stasis."

He was silent for a moment, digesting the weight of that statement. It was strange to think that someone with as much knowledge and power as you would be… limited.

"I still have everything I gained during the trial, of course," you continued, your tone turning thoughtful as you gazed out over the garden. "But it’s a strange feeling, knowing that I’ll never improve again. All my stats, skills, and levels are frozen in time. There’s no ‘growth’ anymore—not like what you have."

Jinwoo frowned. "And that doesn’t bother you?"

You shrugged, meeting his eyes again. "It did, at first. But after a while, I came to terms with it. I put in the effort back then, and I reaped the rewards. Sure, I miss the feeling of progress, of leveling up. But the fact that you’re the player now means the system’s finished with me." You managed a smile, though it was a bit bittersweet.

He looked at you, quiet for a moment, perhaps feeling a hint of the sacrifice you'd made just for the sake of his journey.

"So now," you said, breaking the silence with a brighter tone, "I’m basically a living relic of the trial version, here to help you navigate the system’s quirks."

Jinwoo smirked at that. "The legendary burnt-egg chef, my official guide through the system."

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "That title better not stick." Then, with a playful nudge of your cup in his direction, you raised an eyebrow. "And hey, if I’m going to help you, maybe you could use a few pointers. Starting with, oh, I don’t know… naming tips? You’re downright horrible at that."

The two of you shared a look, both of you smiling. And despite the strange circumstances, Jinwoo knew he was glad to have you by his side, guiding him, burnt eggs and all.

[Oh, he’ll not let that go, will he?]

“And whose fault do you think that is?”

---

"The meals with healing properties, the intricate mana stones, and how your butterflies can affect my daggers' stats... So that's why..." Jinwoo trailed off, connecting the dots.

You nodded, munching on a biscuit. "Mhm, pretty much. Since I have to actually *learn* the fundamentals of each skill, I can manipulate and craft related items more easily. It makes altering, replicating, or even making things from scratch a lot more natural."

You paused, reflecting for a moment before continuing, "It’s a blessing that the last system update allowed me to max out certain skills to the point where I can do these things in reality without relying solely on the system."

You brushed the crumbs from your fingers and leaned back, satisfied. "Anyway, that's all I wanted to tell you. Now, what is it you wanted to say?"

Jinwoo took a deep breath, locking eyes with you. "Join me for a week."

"...Eh?"

Without a word, he held up an item—a key.

<Castle Door Key>.

It was the entry to the Demon Castle, the S-rank dungeon created by the system itself.

"There’s no rule saying I can’t bring someone with me. You don’t gain any more experience, so there’s nothing for me to lose. But you might get materials you won’t find anywhere else, not even in the hunter's market—"

"I refuse."

Jinwoo blinked, surprised. "What?"

You looked away, your mind racing. The offer was tempting—you had several experiments in mind, but there was too much at stake. There were bigger forces at play—the plot, the system's interference, and Jinwoo's crucial development. You couldn’t afford to be too involved in this one. You needed a good excuse, something he would believe.

"Jinwoo," you began, "you’re aware of my powers' limitations, right?"

"What does that have to do with—"

"Listen." Your voice, suddenly sharp, cut through the air, and Jinwoo froze.

For the first time, Jinwoo felt uneasy, confused, like he had said something wrong. He didn’t like the shift in your demeanor, especially when it was directed at him.

"'Demon' Castle," you continued, your tone softer but firm, "just by the name alone, we can assume the majority, if not half, of enemies there will be undead."

"..."

"My powers thrive off life. In an essentially ‘dead’ land, I’ll be at a severe disadvantage—"

"I'll protect you."

"And that’s exactly the problem. I’ll be a deadweight."

"Just focus on supporting me and my shadows."

You stared at him, the determination in his eyes unwavering. He was serious—dead serious.

You rubbed your temples, feeling a headache coming on. "You’re really persistent."

"I know," he replied, not once backing down.

You exhaled, resigned. Deep down, you knew that continuing to refuse him would lead to something far more troublesome. There was no winning against Jinwoo when he was this determined. "Alright," you finally said, "I’ll join you. But if things go south, you have to trust me to pull back. Understood?"

As if you could leave him, the nagging thought echoed in your mind.

Jinwoo’s gaze softened slightly, and a small, rare smile crept onto his lips. "Understood."

You only hoped that the system wouldn’t interfere or cause any unexpected complications this time. But one question remained: why was Jinwoo so insistent on bringing you along, despite the risks?

Unbeknownst to you, Jinwoo was asking himself the same thing. But it was something he wasn’t quite ready to admit—not to you, and perhaps not even to himself.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [023/10/2024] -

The middle part of this, the convo between Jinwoo and (Name) feels a bit weird, so I apologize for the OOC-ness. I'll come back to this later.

#solo leveling #solo leveling imagine #solo leveling x reader #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo #sung jinwoo x reader #yandere sung jinwoo #only i level up #solo leveling jinwoo #fanfic #fanfiction #solo leveling fanfic #sung jin woo #fem reader #x reader #reader insert

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goldenhypen · 1 year ago

Text

. ⊹ just like this ˚ ͎ ｡

syn. taking care of jake when he gets sick, all because you refused to bring a jacket.

pair. jake x reader · wc. 1k · contains. fluff, catching a cold, mentions of food/drink

a/n. ^^ jake has the prettiest smile- nearly forgot this was just sitting in my drafts waiting to see the light of day- so now hopefully at least someone can enjoy it :’>

“damn, as much as i love to kiss you, your lips are freezing,” jake explained after he pulled away with hints of worry in his voice. “oh my, your hands are cold too. i told you you should’ve brought a jacket. you’re freezing.”

it had only been a few seconds but somehow, your lips were already missing the warmth of his own on yours.

“n-no”—stupid stutter—you denied through chattering teeth as the rest of your body began to shiver.

“really,” he said in more of a challenging tone through a chuckle, rather than a question, as he perked up a brow.

he already shrugged off most of his own jacket before you could even think of protesting, and within approximately three seconds, his coat was already hung over your shoulders, sheltering you from the chilling breeze, immediately feeling warmth shoot throughout your body.

“better?” he smirked.

“yes,” you half-guiltily admitted. “you’re going to get sick though.”

the frown on your face didn’t leave even as his next words left his throat, “well, better me than you.”

“no, jake,” you said as your pout grew longer.

“you know why?”

“hm?”

he paused as a smirk travelled to his lips before answering, “because then i’ll get to have you as my caretaker.”

“pfft—please. no, you're not. i’m telling you to take your jacket back, but you’re not letting me give it back to you. so that would be your fault.”

“ouch, someone is really eager to not take care of their boyfriend. okay, i see how it is,” he said with a dramatic frown.

you looked at him as you shook your head and rolled your eyes, “jake, no, i—”

“it’s fine! still better me than you though,” he said —if it was even possible—with more drama in his tone than before as he began to walk away.

you ran to catch up with him and took his still warm hand in both of yours as you looked into his eyes, but being the petty boy he was, who liked playing these silly games, he only continued walking, gaze straight ahead, refusing to look in your direction.

the rest of your date went on, with him eventually forgetting how he had planned on staying dramatic for as long as he could, and he made sure his jacket wasn’t let off your shoulders until you both got home, an immediate rush of warm air filling your bodies. momentarily, you took in the relaxing sensation, closing your eyes.

“want some hot cocoa?” jake asked, whipping you back to reality.

you gave him a small smile, followed by a satisfied nod at the idea. you could already feel the hot beverage flowing down your throat, warming up your insides.

you followed jake to the kitchen. and that was when you heard a sneeze just a few feet ahead.

“jake…”

he cleared his throat. “what? it was just a sneeze.”

“if you’re sick—”

“i’m alright. don’t worry.”

sceptical, you nodded.

later as you two cuddled up on the couch under a fluffy blanket, hands wrapped around a nice cup of hot cocoa, jake furrowed his brows. “why is it so cold in here?”

you turned your head to face him with a questioning look. “i’m not cold.”

“it’s so cold.”

“jake, love, i think it’s just you.”

he shivered, putting his mug down before drowning himself under the covers. “cold.”

you hugged him under the ocean of blanket before he said, “i think i’ve got chills.”

you sighed sadly, “and who said they weren’t sick, hm?”

he huffed out a long puff of air from his cheeks. “i don’t feel good, y/n.”

you sighed again softly, feeling bad for the boy. “okay, stay here and rest. i’ll go make you some soup.”

you let go of his already weak and exhausted form before standing up, beginning to make your way toward the kitchen as you heard a “thanks, i love you!”

⎯ ❤︎ ⎯

“okay, i’m back with soup.” you placed it on the table in front of him. “it’s hot, be careful.”

“thanks, love.”

you watched as he took his first few spoonfuls, your hand reached behind his head as you ran it up and down his back soothingly.

after a moment of silence as he drank his soup, a sudden eruption of giggles filled the room.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, subconsciously beginning to laugh with him.

“i love being sick,” he said, turning to you with a cheeky grin.

“i’m sorry, you what?” you laughed, imagining you must’ve heard it wrong.

“i like being sick.”

“what? why?” you asked at his ridiculous statement.

“because i always get to have you take care of me,” he smirked, not so cheeky this time but more happy than anything.

“i—” was all you managed to push out, speechless.

“told you you’d take care of me,” he then said proudly victorious, chin held high. “i know you well enough to know how down bad you are for me, y/n.”

you scoffed in disbelief, “oh, please. you are unbelievable.”

“i might be unbelievable, but i’m not wrong,” he continued playfully.

“okay, mr. smarty pants. you win. i do love you, and what about it?”

he giggled, coming closer and wrapping his arms around your waist, tucking his head into the crook of your neck.

no matter how long you two had been together, him doing this exact form of physical touch never failed to make everything in your body go weak, except your heart, its pace beating so fast, you were almost afraid it would leap out of your chest any minute.

“i love you more,” he breathed into your neck with a smile.

you wrapped your arms around him before starting, “okay, you big baby,” you tapped your hand in a repeating motion on his back, “i think you should get some sleep now. your body needs it.”

you felt as he nodded into your neck. “mhm. just like this.” he said, referring to the way you were tangled in each others arms, bodies sharing warmth, and breaths moving in sync. he closed his eyes. “this is exactly what i need to feel better.”

a/n. ahhh yall pls lmk if you liked this cuz idk if it’s me just second guessing myself but im feeling quite unsure about this one 🫠 and as always, thanks for reading <33

m.list · taglist

taglist 1. @raimbows4u @sultrybaby @kpop-nct @ajayke-reads @wccycc @enhacolor @enhasfever @nokacchan @yizhoutv @xiaoderrrr @soobin-chois @tyunni @shinsou-rii @vickytodoroki @softkpopplace @belle643 @nar-nia @rapmonie2047 @sunjakes @w3bqrl @ethereal-engene @exohclipse @yeosayang @4ri-ki @aeriil11 @jaeyunjakesim @whoschr @enaus @hoes4hoseok @palajae @annoyingbitch83 @kpoprhia @rcrystallocks @stepout-09-15 @zeraaax @enhasengene @atrirose @pistachiophobia @svnoofy @sweetjaemss @vatterie @majesticallymark @mnsnts @en-chantedtomeetyou @yeseoist @milisabunny @wonniestars @kazmura @nicholasluvbot @haechansbbg

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iamred-iamyellow · 8 months ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Calrissian

♥ masterlist | request rules

♥ pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

♥ synopsis: you weren’t quite sure how it was possible that your boyfriend lando had never seen the star wars movies. he was named after one of the characters… right? regardless, halloween was the perfect time to introduce him to the franchise

♥ ficlet/drabble - as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing !!!

♥ a/n: this has been trapped in my drafts for months so i think it’s time to set her free

“You know," you said, sitting on the couch beside him with a giant bowl of popcorn. "I always thought you were named after my favorite character.”

Lando knew this was important to you so he set an ambiance just for the occasion. He brought out the footrests, covered the couches with blankets, and lit a few candles around the room.

“And who might that be?” he responded, grabbing a fistful of the buttery snack and popping it into his mouth.

“Lando Calrissian, duh. Billy Dee Williams? Donald Glover…?” you trailed off waiting for his response.

He paused for a moment, “Doesn’t ring a bell."

“Remind me to get you into Community after this,” you mumbled while setting up the movie.

The title card for episode 4 showed up on screen as you settled onto the fluffy sofa. Once your gaze finally met his again, you noticed the big grin on his face.

“What?” you questioned.

"Nothing,” he continued to smile.

You rolled your eyes at him playfully and grabbed some chocolate to pop into your mouth.

He put his arm around your shoulders and tugged the blanket up closer to the two of you as you cuddled into his side.

“So how many hours am I in for?” he asked.

“Hmm, I think six?"

His eyebrows raised and his eyes widened, “Well fuck, good thing I cleared my calendar," he laughed.

You had gone about 2 and a half movies before passing out on Lando’s shoulder. He made sure not to move too much as he tried to turn off the current film. He bundled the two of you up and wrapped his arms around your waist, getting comfortable for a good night's worth of sleep.

bonus smau;

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername, carlossainz55, and 208,843 more

landonorris halloween ‘24

tagged; @/yourusername

view comments

yourusername 💚💙

user1 lightsaber colored hearts

user5 I understood that reference

carlossainz55 he got those pumpkin carving skills from me

landonorris @/carlossainz55 you wish

user7 they're han an leia 😭🫶

user8 these cute fuckers

user2 missed opportunity for carlos and rebecca to be anakin and padme 😔

oscarpiastri happy halloween !

♡ by landonorris

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

end notes: happy halloween loves! <3 this was just something small for the holiday but I'll be back soon with a full smau!

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theemporium · 1 month ago

Text

[3.3k] never in a million years did mikko ever think he would go through a trade, let alone twice in one season. but at least he has you to be his rock through it all.

(this was meant to be smutty but got so angsty so fast🤠anyways take this as me giving a small raincheck for the mikko smut)

For Mikko, Colorado was his home.

He loved Finland, loved it in the only way you could when you grew up there. He loved his home country, and he would forever cherish it in a special place in his heart.

But Colorado was where his life began.

Colorado was where he was drafted, where he was able to live out the dream he had clung onto since he was a kid. Colorado was where he became the player he was today, where he won and lost and thrived and shattered. Colorado was where he won the Cup, where he fought with blood, sweat and tears with his boys to win the ultimate prize. Colorado was where he met you, where his life was completely spun on itself in the best way possible. Colorado was where he was torn up and sewn back together again until he became the best version of himself.

Mikko loved Colorado but, in the end, Colorado didn’t love him back.

It didn’t hit him until he was sitting in the Canes locker room, lacing his skates and preparing for his first game with the team. The last few days had passed in a blur, his emotions pushed down and bottled up as he stood in front of god-knows how many cameras and answered the same goddamn questions over and over again.

The pain and betrayal and hurt and confusion didn’t hit until he was sitting in an unfamiliar locker room, with unfamiliar teammates and unfamiliar banter, pulling an unfamiliar jersey over his head.

Mikko managed to hold off the breakdown until after the game, when he was in the privacy of his hotel room with no one else around.

His phone buzzed with a million different notifications, from family and friends, from former teammates and colleagues, from angry and excited fans. But he couldn’t bring himself to look. He couldn’t bring himself to see his mother’s concern or Gabe’s offer to talk about it or anything.

He just couldn’t do it.

And the only person he really wanted to talk to, who he really wanted beside him right now was stuck back in Denver for the time being.

The only person he wanted was you.

Distance wasn’t a new thing in your relationship. Mikko was a hockey player, he was on the road for half of the season and it was something you got used to pretty quickly. Even in the early days of your relationship, the two of you adapted when the relationship was new and fragile and Mikko was on the other side of the world in Finland for the offseason while you remained in Denver.

But this was something new, this was a kind of distance neither of you had experienced and, honestly, never thought you would have to. This wasn’t some roadie Mikko would be returning from in a few days, this wasn’t some break you would fly out to join him on.

You were back in Denver, in the home the two of you bought and decorated and loved. You were back in Denver in the place Mikko thought maybe one day he would raise his kids in. You were back in Denver, just as confused and lost as him about this whole thing.

It was fucking weird and honestly made everything worse.

Things continued to blur as the days passed, as Four Nations approached, as the trade deadline loomed over his head. It became abundantly clear to him that Carolina was not his new home, that it was not a jersey he could see himself staying in. The thought of somehow ending up as the bad guy towards a whole new organisation of fans made his stomach twist.

Teams were reaching out, his agent was constantly messaging him and, before he knew it, he was on a flight to Dallas, Texas.

The reality of his new life, of his new home and new team, didn’t hit him until he found himself tugged into a hug by Roope as he walked into the Stars’ training facility and heard the other Finn whisper, “happy you’re here, brother.”

Because he was a Star now. He wore victory green. He signed an eight-year contract. He committed to this team.

His home now was Dallas, not Denver. Not Colorado. Not the Avalanche.

It felt like a cosmic joke that he found himself flying back to Colorado just over a week after signing a long contract with another team.

The team had flown into Denver straight after the Jets game, wanting to acclimate to the higher altitude. Mikko privately wondered if it would feel unfamiliar to him now after a few weeks of being away.

The rest of the guys were dead on their feet, heading straight to the hotel with no intention of waking up until afternoon practice the next day. But Mikko had permission to stay elsewhere for the duration of their stay in Colorado, something most of the boys knew. He still chose to ignore the varying looks of pity, concern and care in their faces as he waved them off and headed towards where his Uber was pulling up.

His stomach twisted at the familiar route to your shared home.

He murmured a quiet thank you to the Uber driver, grabbed his bag and pretended like the knife in his heart wasn’t twisting as he walked up the driveway towards the front door. He pretended like it didn’t make something inside him shatter even more when he let himself in. He pretended like he was keeping himself together at the sight of cardboard boxes already littering the place as he walked in, the house in a mixed state of packed and unpacked.

Mikko ignored it all as he dumped his bag in the hallway and made his way towards your shared bedroom for the first time in weeks. He hadn’t remembered the walk ever feeling this long, he hadn’t ever remembered the hallways feeling so unfamiliar.

It truly felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest when he cracked open the bedroom door and let the sliver of hallway light sneak into the room. Because after weeks of being apart, there you were, on your side of the bed. And if Mikko pretended enough, it just felt like the countless times he would come back from a roadie to the same sight.

He tried to stay quiet as he shuffled into the room, stripping out of the clothes he wore on the team plane until he was able to slowly crawl into bed next to you. He probably should have been careful as he wiggled closer, but he couldn’t bring himself to hold back the urge to wrap his arms around you and nestle up against you.

“Hey,” your voice murmured into the dark room.

Mikko winced a little. “Sorry, didn’t want to wake you up.” He placed a quick kiss on your shoulder to emphasis the apology.

“S’fine,” you mumbled, twisting around in his arms until you could press the side of your face against his chest. “I was awake.”

Mikko snorted a little, his fingers lightly tracing random shapes along your back. “Uh huh, sure.”

“I was,” you said a little more definitely, but the words were still slurred like you were half-asleep. Even though it was dark, he could still imagine the crease between your furrowed brows perfectly.

“Of course, baby,” he hummed, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to the top of your head as you settled with half your body sprawled over him. “Fuck. I’ve missed this so much.”

You pressed a chaste kiss to his collarbone. “Wanna talk about it?”

But he just shook his head, settling back against the pillow and letting the long travel day catch up with him. “It can wait. Just want to enjoy sleeping next to you for the first time in so long.”

You didn’t reply, already falling asleep faster than before with the warmth of him pressed against you, but the way you nuzzled yourself a little closer was more than enough of an answer for Mikko. He knew you felt the exact same way.

…

The morning came far too quick for his liking.

It was early—early enough that he couldn’t hear many cars driving past the house and the light peeking through the curtains wasn’t too bright. But it still felt too early to get up, to start the day, to get closer and closer to having to get on that plane back to Dallas and leave you behind. He wasn’t ready for the day to start.

You let out a small sigh as he squeezed you tighter. “Good morning.”

“Not good,” Mikko groaned, rolling the two of you over until he was pressing you between himself and the mattress. “Go back to sleep. Too early. Let’s stay here forever.”

You hummed in amusement. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Mikko nodded as best as he could with his face pressed into the crook of your neck. “No need for anything else. I’ve made enough money. We’re set.”

This time you let out a proper laugh, the sound bringing a grin to Mikko’s face before he could even bother to hide it. Not that he would, not when it was one of your favourite sights.

He felt you card your fingers through his messy curls, tugging on them a little until he finally lifted his head to look at you—the first time in person, in the daylight, since he got on that flight to head to Carolina.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice deep and accent a little thicker than usual.

“Hey,” you grinned back at him, your fingers tracing over the features of his face like you were assuring yourself you hadn’t forgotten every little mark and detail over the last few weeks. Facetime calls didn’t do it justice. “God, I’ve missed this so much.”

Mikko smiled wolfishly. “My pretty face?”

“Everything,” you confessed.

His expression softened considerably before he leaned down to press his lips against yours, soft and lingering and full of emotions he couldn't bring himself to voice over the phone during the last few weeks.

“I really think we should stay here forever,” Mikko murmured against your lips, pouting a little when you tugged his head back so you could look up at him.

“You have practice in a few hours,” you pointed out.

“They can cope without me.”

“And dinner with the boys tonight, which Mel tells me Gabe has really been looking forward to.”

“I’m sure EJ will console him at the table.”

“And you have a game tomorrow.”

“Don’t wanna play it anyways.”

The amusement quickly faded, your smile shifting into something more pensive and Mikko almost wanted to go back in time and wipe the last thirty seconds from existence. But this was you. Even if his skin prickled at the honesty, he knew you were the only person on this planet he wanted to share it with.

“Whatever happens in the game tomorrow, I want you to know I’m proud of you,” you eventually said, your thumbs lightly grazing over his cheekbones.

Mikko frowned a little. “Huh?”

“I’m proud of you,” you repeated, your lips twitching upwards a little at the confusion written clearly on his face. “I know you don’t wanna talk about it yet, but I know tomorrow is going to be a lot. And I know you think you have to put on a brave face for the team and the boys and the media. But I want you to know that you don’t have to do that here. And that regardless of the results, I am so proud of you for playing.”

The back of his throat felt thick with a handful of emotions he still hadn’t quite faced since the trade, coating his throat and making it difficult to respond. But he didn’t need to say anything, not to you. Because you knew and you understood and even if he never got the words out, the expression on his face was enough for you to lean up and kiss him anyways.

“Let’s get up,” you murmured, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before shoving him off you until he rolled over. “I got your favourites from that bakery beside the park.”

His heart felt like it was going to burst when he caught a glimpse of the shirt you wore to bed as you made your way to the bathroom.

Colorado Avalanche. 96.

…

It seemed like the cosmic joke from the universe didn’t know when to stop when it came to Mikko Rantanen.

The team felt good during their afternoon practice. Mikko was starting to find his rhythm in the drills, to know who to chirp and who to encourage. He was starting to feel a sense of belonging amongst the other Finns, speaking in his native tongue on the ice in a way he wasn’t used to experiencing so often these days. Things really felt good.

And the dinner with the Avalanche boys made Mikko feel like nothing happened, like nothing changed. It felt like how his life was a few months ago, where they would all go out and laugh and drink and eat and enjoy themselves. It felt familiar for them all to tease each other on who was picking up the bill that time round. It felt like how the last decade of his life had felt in Denver.

And then they left the restaurant and Mikko headed in the opposite direction with a heavy pit in his stomach reminding him that he would be in a different jersey the next day.

And despite how great things were feeling at practice, the team couldn’t seem to pull out a win, despite the overtime.

And as he left the arena, he tried to pretend like he couldn’t see the signs—the ones that wanted him back and the ones that said they were glad he left—as he focused on the back of the seat’s headrest until the Uber pulled up outside the house.

Even after the car pulled away, Mikko stood at the bottom of the driveway and stared up at the house. The last time he would ever see it because after today, he would get back on a plane to Dallas and, in a few weeks, you would join him and some other family would move into this house and—

It all just felt like the worst fucking joke in the world.

Every step felt heavy as he walked towards the front door, the exhaustion from the game and the media and everything since that fucking day he was traded seemed to weigh on his shoulders as he shoved his key into the lock and twisted the door open.

He dumped his bag by the door, kicking his shoes off (mentally reminding himself to apologise to you in the morning for scuffing the wall when he did so) before making his way deeper into the house. But he paused by the living room, finding some old sitcom rerun on the TV whilst you sat on the couch.

Mikko couldn’t bring himself to say anything as he walked around the half-packed cardboard boxes, slumping himself into the seat next to you wordlessly. It took less than a few seconds later for him to lean his head against your shoulder with a heavy sigh.

“Still so proud of you,” you whispered, your fingers already lightly tugging the tangles out of his still-wet hair as you placed a kiss on his forehead.

And something about the gentleness in your act just made him break.

“Do you think it will always feel like this?” Mikko whispered, his eyes burning at the tears beginning to blur his vision.

“Like what?”

Like his chest was going to cave in. Like walking the familiar streets and routes made him feel sick to his stomach. Like even walking into Ball Arena made him feel like he was reliving the phone call, that he was being thanked for everything he had done and being wished good luck for the rest of his career.

Like everything was a reminder that Colorado didn’t love him back enough and it was one of the worst rejections he had ever faced in his life and he didn’t know how to get over it.

Like he didn’t know how to prepare himself to never get over it, to feel all these emotions and more every single time he came back to Denver.

“Like this is home and now we are losing it,” Mikko answered eventually, swallowing back the urge to say something stupid. To say something like he isn’t sure if he could trust any place to ever feel like home again.

You didn’t reply straight away, instead seeming to focus on carding your fingers through his curls until the boy seemed a little more relaxed than when he first walked in. By that point, Mikko had accepted that his question didn’t have a response, that he should probably just enjoy the last few hours he had with you before he had to get on a plane to Dallas the following day.

“I think it will feel like it for a while,” you eventually said when you spoke up.

Mikko lifted his head to look at you. “But?”

“But eventually the sting will fade and it will be like an old ache that sometimes hurts more than others,” you said, your hand cupping his face as he leaned into the touch. “Like an old injury that you sometimes aggravate. It doesn’t feel great but you know you can live with it, that you can get past it.”

“You sound so sure,” Mikko murmured, almost sounding envious.

“That’s because I know that no matter how much Denver feels like home to me, you make me feel it more,” you admitted, shrugging a little even if your cheeks warmed at your own confession.

Mikko felt like someone was squeezing his heart in their fist. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “You’re my home first, Mikko. Whether it’s here or Dallas or Finland. It doesn’t matter.”

And, fuck, if it didn’t make him feel like some of the weight from the last few weeks had been lifted off his shoulders. He had spent the better part of his life since the first trade contemplating everything, mourning the city he called home for the last decade, stewing in the guilt that he was about to uproot your life completely.

But selfishly, he was glad he wasn’t doing any of it alone. Despite being alone for the last few weeks, he knew you would eventually come out and join him. He knew that he would have some sense of normality back and it wasn’t something he took for granted. Because as guilty as he felt to make you move across the country with him, he was so fucking relieved that he had someone by his side.

And now, staring back at you as you carefully push his curls out of his face, Mikko knew there was nobody else in the world that he wanted by his side more through this whole mess than he wanted you.

“I love you,” he murmured, and whilst it was nowhere near the first time he had said those words to you, it still made you smile—all giddy and sweet—like it was.

“I love you too, baby,” you whispered back, pressing a longer, softer kiss on his lips this time.

“And despite everything,” he continued, his lips twitching upwards. “I think you’ll look really good in green.”

You snorted. “Usually your line is that I’d look better in nothing.”

“Texas has made me a gentleman,” Mikko teased. “I’m a good, honest cowboy now.”

You hummed, amused. “Is that so?”

“And you know what they say about cowboys,” Mikko added with a grin. “Save a horse, ride a…”

“Put the hat on next time and maybe we’ll see,” you grinned right back at him.

For Mikko, Colorado used to be his home. And maybe, over time, Dallas would learn to take its place.

But he knew, deep down without a single doubt in his mind, that his favourite home would always be whenever he was with you.

#mikko rantanen #dallas stars #nhl #mikko rantanen x reader #mikko rantanen x you #mikko rantanen x y/n #mikko rantanen fic #mikko rantanen one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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miyasmagnolias · 3 months ago

Text

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 ♡

akaashi keiji x f!reader

you and your boyfriend are no strangers to overthinking — so when your period doesn't arrive on time, you take turns calming each other down.

"I'm late." Akaashi lifted his head from the manuscript he was editing, his glasses strewn haphazardly across his face. You were standing in the threshold of your shared study, having just returned from your second anxiety-induced bathroom break of the night.

Your boyfriend of five years turned in his creaky swivel chair to face the calendar tacked on the leftmost wall of the room, littered in neon post-it notes and defaced by both of your penmanships — Akaashi's short and slanted, yours perfectly proportioned.

Ever the editor, he said, "But I thought your draft wasn't due until next week." Being a romance author and dating a literary editor certainly had its perks, but in this moment, you couldn't decide whether to feel distressed or endeared by his misinterpretation. You took a deep breath and tried again.

"...not that kind of late."

It took him a second to understand. But when he finally did, the brain fog immediately cleared from his eyes.

"Oh — oh," he said, setting down his red pen and standing from his desk. "You're absolutely sure?"

You nodded. "Three days, to be exact."

Ever since you and Akaashi had started dating your senior year of college, you had been tracking your periods in hopes of preventing an unplanned pregnancy. You were both open to having kids — after all, you two were arguably the most responsible ones in your friend group, and baby fever passed between the two of you as easily as the common cold. But neither of you expected to have a child this early into your careers, and the mere idea was enough to make you feel queasy.

"Hey, hey," Akaashi interjected gently, reading the expression on your face like an open book. He walked around his cluttered desk and pulled you into his arms. "It's okay. I know we both have a tendency to overthink —"

"A great trait to pass onto a baby," you volleyed back.

"But if you really are pregnant, we would handle it," he continued, however amused by your quit wit. He tucked your head beneath his chin. "We'd ask all the right questions, read all the right parenting books. I'll hold your hand when your get your blood drawn, even though it makes me want to collapse."

Despite yourself, you chuckled at that.

"Besides," he added. "We practically raise Bokuto together already."

You were laughing even harder now, the waves of anxiety flooding your chest now subsiding, if only for a moment. Akaashi was the only one capable of doing that.

"Ugh," you cried, pulling away from him to massage your tired eyes. "How did this even happen?"

"I think you know perfectly well how this happened."

"Of course, I know," you drawled. "But we had a plan. A well-thought-out, career-oriented plan. You would go to grad school, I would publish a few more novels —"

"All of which we can still do if we become parents," Akaashi replied, taking both of your hands into his. "Y/N, I am well-aware of the fact that we both love planning our lives to a tee. In fact, your thoughtfulness and attention-to-detail are what I love most about you."

Your face flushed at his affectionate words.

"But maybe it would save us both the mental energy to let life surprise us every once in a while," he finished.

"With a baby?"

"With anything! Including the possibility of a baby." He pushed your hair of our of face and looked at you in sheer adoration. "I love you, Y/N. There is no other person I'd want to become a parent with. So while an unplanned pregnancy sounds daunting, I will be right there with you. We'd figure it out. Together."

Perhaps it was the steady confidence in his eyes — or the potential pregnancy hormones coursing through your bloodstream, but you started to cry. Taken aback, Akaashi immediately took you back into his arms.

"D-Did I say something wrong?" he stammered. You shook your head against his chest as you wept.

"No. No, you said everything right," you reassured him. "God, if this actually happens, Keiji, you're going to be an incredible parent."

Now it was his turn to get emotional.

You turned off the lamps at your respective desks and headed to the pharmacy two blocks away from your apartment, the sidewalks bustling with native bar-hoppers and starry-eyed tourists. You'd both walked this path several times before and had always returned with a bundle of items: Red Bull, microwave popcorn, the occasional pack of condoms. But never a pregnancy test. "Is there a specific brand that gives you the most accurate results?" Akaashi asked, immediately pulling out his phone to do some research in the middle of the family planning aisle. "It says here that digital pregnancy tests are generally considered more accurate, but you can get a pack of three analog tests for nearly half the price..."

He paced up-and-down the rows of tests, comparing and cross-referencing them like he did each of his authors' drafts.

"I mean, why don't we just buy them all? It can't hurt to cover all the bases," he murmured, grabbing one of each brand from the shelf and dumping them into your open arms.

"Keiji," you laughed, amused by how serious he was about all of this. "Don't you think we're being a little hasty?"

"You're right," your boyfriend said, shaking his head. "I haven't even checked the expiration dates on any of these — "

"No, that's not what I meant," you repeated firmly, meeting his frazzled gaze with your now-steady one. "I think we should buy only one pack. Your pick."

He looked at you as if you'd just suggested he dive off a steep cliff. "Are you sure?" "Yes," you promised him. "I don't even think I have enough pee for all the pregnancy tests I'm holding right now." His shoulders slumped from the steep drop in adrenaline, and he pressed his lips into a tight, nervous line before admitting, "I just want to make sure I'm doing everything right." "You already are," you reassured him, shifting all of the pregnancy tests over to one arm and reaching out to squeeze his shoulder with the other. "You don't need to overthink whether or not you're doing a great job, because you are. I wouldn't have let you possibly impregnate me if you weren't."

He released a shaky sigh, a sheepish smile on his face as he asked, "Can I still consult Google reviews?"

After finally selecting a pregnancy test and a pint of ice cream to share, you and Akaashi paid for your items and walked back to your apartment arm-in-arm.

"Do you remember the day we met?" he asked, the sounds of the city rumbling between you as you walked.

"Of course I remember. I wanted the last desk in the front row of our senior writing seminar, but someone got there before me," you said teasingly. "Though I think it was for the best. I developed a crush on the back of your head almost instantly."

"You did not."

"I'm not even kidding. I'm pretty sure I based all of my fictional love interests on you that year."

"That I picked up on."

"You did not."

He chuckled. "Don't get me wrong, I had to ask Bokuto to read your stories because I thought I was insanely self-absorbed for suspecting you'd base any character off of me. I'd never had anyone describe me so accurately. So...deeply," he confessed. "I was flattered. Truly."

You couldn't help the blush creeping up your neck. "I guess that's what I get, asking my crush to peer-review my work."

He bent down to press his lips to your temple. "I'm glad you did."

You climbed the stairs back to your apartment and unlocked the door, the small space crowded by stacks of books and half-empty mugs. You imagined what it would be like to rearrange the furniture to make room for a crib, what it would be like for you and Akaashi to read to your baby all the books you'd loved as children. The mere idea was enough to make your eyes well up again.

God, you thought to yourself, tearing open the box of pregnancy tests and inspecting the thick packet of instructions. Would you actually be disappointed if this test came back negative?

"I'll be right here if you need me," Akaashi said, gesturing to the couch. You nodded, walked into the bathroom, and closed the door.

After five minutes of working yourself up to peeing on the stick and another two of actually doing it, you ushered your boyfriend back into the bathroom. You'd placed the test face-down beside the sink, not wanting to know the results without him. Your heart hammered violently as you considered this piece of plastic's inane ability to tell your entire future in just a few measly lines.

"Hey," Akaashi reassured you for the millionth time that night, intertwining your hand in his. "No matter the outcome, I've got you."

"I know." You nodded. "I've got you, too."

His expression softened. "You ready?"

"Yeah," you said, and you meant it. After all, Akaashi Keiji had spent the past five years holding your heart with more patience and consideration you ever thought you deserved, and you had dedicated yourself fully to doing the same for him. You took care of each other amidst all anxieties. That alone was enough to assure you that, whatever the future held, you would be just fine.

Squeezing each other's hand one last time, you took a deep breath, reached for the pregnancy test, and turned it over. @miyasmagnolias, 2025

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #hq fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #haikyuu akaashi #hq akaashi #akaashi x you #hq x you #hq x reader

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amourane · 1 year ago

Text

falling for you

pairing: kwon soonyoung x fem!reader

genre: fluff, college au

w/c: 2.6k

summary: in which soonyoung struggles to ask you out on a date.

warnings: none!

a/n: if you saw the first post u didn't cuz tumblr made a mess of it and now i gotta repost it TT

"Jihoon!" A voice hissed from behind him. "Jihoon, here! Behind you!" He spun around to face...a bush.

"When did plants learn how to talk?"

"It's me you idiot!" A hand shot out grabbing Jihoon's arm, pulling him into the bush. Soonyoung had twigs, leaves and something that looked like a ladybug but no one could ever be so sure. He was fiddling with the hem of his sweater, his cheeks bright red. “I just saw Y/n!”

“So?” Soonyoung’s eyes bulged incredulously like Jihoon was supposed to know why his best friend looked like he had been living in the wild for a week.

“Jihoon, you don’t just reply with ‘so’ and make it some question. You should know this!” Soonyoung shook his friend by his shoulders, squishing his cheeks painfully. “Obviously it’s because I saw her walk by and obviously I went up to talk to her but obviously I fell. I don’t even know how I fell and I was going to stand back up and continue to talk to her but she was already gone. And I have this huge stain.” He pointed to the brownish green patch on his white cotton sweater. “Everything’s just a mess!”

“Okay first of all, calm down Shakespeare.” Jihoon rolled his eyes, picking his best friend up. He tugged the sweater over Soonyoung’s head. “You could’ve just taken this off, you’ve got a shirt underneath anyway. And it’s been a week and you still haven’t asked her out?”

“Well, it’s hard alright.” Soonyoung nibbled his bottom lip. “Also Mingyu’s always around her and I can never seem to get her alone.”

“Now you’re just making excuses.”

Jihoon knew his best friend. He knew Soonyoung. If Soonyoung wanted something he’d probably fight the world for it. He remembered that one time he’d been so desperate to win Mario Kart against Jihoon that he’d dumped his water all over him. Jihoon was positively fuming, not because he’d lost but because Soonyoung had gotten his favourite shirt wet.

Needless to say, Kwon Soonyoung would eat avocados for the rest of his life if it meant he’d get to ask you out. That was why it was weird that the guy who could probably fight zombies single handedly in an apocalypse couldn’t ask a cute girl out.

“Hey what’s this?” Jihoon reached for the piece of paper hanging out of Soonyoung’s pocket. The boy flushed red, trying to grab the paper back from Jihoon. When he realised it was no use he slumped back a pout evident on his face.

“You’re not allowed to judge me-”

“You really are a dork.” Jihoon snorted, examining the A3 piece of paper with ‘ASKING Y/N OUT’ scrawled on the top in big black marker. The page was filled with annotations and little diagrams that were all coloured in neatly. All the possibilities were drafted out, some more silly than others. “You were thinking of taking her to NASA?!”

Soonyoung’s ears burned. He squirmed. “I mean it’s always a possibility but I think that would kind of ruin me.”

Jihoon watched as his best friend avoided his gaze, fingers anxiously fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He smiled. He’d never seen Soonyoung this nervous to ask a girl out. It was oddly endearing. He continued to scan the paper, a little shocked that Soonyoung had put so much effort into this plan.

So this was definitely not a little crush.

“Okay listen.” Jihoon grabbed Soonyoung’s shoulders. They were currently outside the classroom you were in. He had devised this plan perfectly so that Soonyoung would actually ask you out without embarrassing himself. “Y/n’s going to come out here in approximately five minutes. You’re going to walk up to her and say ‘are you free this Saturday?’ and then she’ll say yes and then BAM instant date!” He clapped his hands together for exaggerated effect.

“Jihoon, where are my flowers? And I can't be wearing this!” Soonyoung grabbed his black hoodie. “I can’t ask Y/n out like this. We need a suit and I need roses and some type of confectionery to win her over!”

Jihoon blinked like an owl. C-Confectionary?! Who the hell speaks like that anymore? Clearly Soonyoung had been watching too many romance movies. “You don’t need flowers or some fancy clothes to win Y/n over. You just need you, she likes you, not some dolled up Barbie.”

“It’s actually Ken who’s the main male-”

“Oh look here she comes.” He pushed Soonyoung hard. The poor boy stumbled clumsily, promptly bashing into you. He had to stop doing that. “Go get her!” Was all Soonyoung heard before he felt his soul die.

You held Soonyoung steady. A small giggle left your lips. He blushed. You were even cuter today. Which was normally impossible but you were obviously special. The sweet smile you gave him nearly had him fainting.

What was it Jihoon had said again? Oh yes, ask you out. He could do this.

“Did you need something Soonyoung?”

Your voice was gentle and soft like a marshmallow. He could feel himself melting just at your words. Nope can’t do this. Soonyoung nearly spun around but when he caught sight of Jihoon’s deadly glare he retreated. Jihoon wasn’t someone you wanted to get angry. Guess he was going to have to do this.

“I...um…” He waved his arms around pathetically. It didn’t help that you were looking at him so innocently. “T-This Saturday you free...?” Soonyoung wanted the ground to swallow him whole. His cheeks burn bright red and he coughs. Not only did he completely butcher the English language but his voice cracked. Cracked!

“I’m free this Saturday.” You grinned, eyes twinkling. Soonyoung felt his heart flutter. “I’ll text you okay?” You tucked a piece of paper into his hand before waving at him as you caught up to Mingyu. He watched as the two of you talked, you bursting into a fit of giggles, blushing.

The whole situation had happened so quickly it had made his head spin. A loud smack on his back brought Soonyoung back to reality. Jihoon stood behind him with a proud grin on his face.

“Now we’ve just got to get you through this date.”

Soonyoung checked his watch for what felt like the upteenth time. It read, 11:13. He had said to meet him at 11 o’clock but maybe he was just early. Maybe you were stuck in traffic or something. He had spent about half an hour picking his outfit, with help from Jihoon of course because he could never decide on anything.

It did look a little pathetic. Soonyoung sighed. Did you stand him up? You wouldn’t be that mean, would you?

“Soonyoung!” You were panting behind him, looking as if you had just run a marathon. Your chest heaved. “I'm so sorry. I lost track of time and everything kind of just went haywire-”

“I-It’s okay.” Soonyoung squeaked, wringing his hands. His eyes tried not to drift towards your chest. You were wearing a bright yellow sundress that hugged your body, little flowers dotted all over. The thin straps on your shoulders were tied in little bows at the top. He swallowed.

“You’re not upset?” Your eyes were wide. The familiar scent of your jasmine perfume wafted to Soonyoung's nose and he shook his head. He could never be upset with you, that’d be ridiculous. You smiled. “Well, where are we heading?”

He gave you a small grin. To say that Soonyoung has connections with people was an understatement. He had connections with everyone. That sounded a bit weird but everyone knew Soonyoung. It wasn’t like the town was small or anything, he was just known by everyone. Even the grumpy old lady that sold newspapers knew him.

Now normally he would have a plan for this, it was all written down. Sadly, Jihoon had ripped it up and threw it in the bin. Apparently having a plan was lame. Totally untrue, it was great to be prepared.

“It’s a surprise.”

“Oh my god!” You nearly tumbled to the ground at your shock. “How did you even manage to get in here? Isn’t this the Hong’s?”

In front of you were rows beyond rows of strawberry bushes. The field seemed to stretch on forever. There was only one family in town that owned so many acres of land, the Hongs. You’d met their son, Joshua Hong, a couple of times at campus but everyone knew their strawberry fields were off limits.

“My mum’s friends with Mrs Hong, used to go over to hers every week with apple pie. Me and Shua were friends for a while but then he got caught up in music and me, dancing. We still talk and I was lucky enough to get us in.” Soonyoung shrugs. “And it’s strawberry picking season.”

“Most boys would bring their date out to a fancy restaurant.” You picked a strawberry, popping into your mouth, savouring the sweet taste. “I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy this.”

Soonyoung tried not to smile too wide. He couldn't contain his excitement. At first he wanted to take you to a lot of places in one day but Jihoon had said it was impossible to take you to the cinema, zoo, aquarium, ice cream shop and laser tag in 24 hours. So he settled on strawberries. Everyone loved strawberries, plus it was free because he knew Joshua.

You slowly intertwined both of your fingers, holding his hand. Soonyoung felt his cheeks flare an embarrassing red as his eyes trailed down to both of your clasped hands. He felt his heart beat rapidly in his chest. There wasn’t a lot he could do but try not to faint.

A small smirk crept up on his lips as he handed you a basket. “We’ll make a deal.”

“A deal?” You looked at him confused, taking the basket. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s say, whoever picks the most strawberries decides where we’re having lunch and they pay as well.”

“Chivalry really is dead.” You rolled your eyes. If Kwon Soonyoung wanted to bet that he would pick more strawberries than you, then he best be prepared for war. You contemplated the thought. If you were to win you’d probably empty his pockets but if he won he would empty your pockets. It’s a 50/50 chance.

You must have stayed silent for a tad too long because Soonyoung grew worried.

“W-We don’t have to if you don't want to-”

“Fine. No rules, just as many as we can pick.” You shook his hand, a playful grin on your face. “Be prepared to lose Kwon.” You dashed away.

“Hey, you’re cheating!”

“No rules remember!”

Soonyoung stood still, mouth open like a goldfish. He finally snapped out of it, chasing after you, determined to win. There was no way he was going to let you beat him.

Or maybe he will.

Soonyoung grasped his basket tightly. It was already nearly full with ruby red strawberries. No doubt they were sweet and juicy. He hadn’t seen you since you left him and it was slightly worrying. Hopefully you were fine. Hopefully.

"Y/n?" He calls over the bushes. No reply. Soonyoung trudged forward, still looking for you. A twig snapped from behind him. "Y/n?" He spun around only to see you reaching a hand inside his basket plucking a strawberry and stuffing it into your mouth.

"They're really yummy, I should thank Joshua when I see him." You giggled, turning to flee again but this time Soonyoung grabbed your hand. A small squeak escaped your lips.

"Don't you dare run away." His tone was light and teasing. You shrieked when he popped one of your strawberries into his mouth. "No rules remember." He smirked, playfully flicking your forehead. You threw a strawberry at him which he dodged. You pelt another and another. One hits him and you stifle your laughs.

Soonyoung pulled you forward and you shut up. He leaned forward, breath fanning your face. You instinctively fluttered your eyes shut.

"I'll see you later." He whispered, causing you to snap open your eyes, mouth dropping to the ground. You watched dumbfounded as he ran away. What happened to the shy Soonyoung?

“I only lost because you ate all of mine.” You pouted, folding your arms defiantly. It wasn’t your fault that he was so devastatingly cute that you just had to offer him some of your strawberries. He stole them from you, even if he insisted that you gave them willingly.

“You’re in denial Y/n.” Soonyoung skipped happily next to you, swinging his full basket. Your pout deepened. “Now where’s the most expensive place to have lunch?” He pulled his phone out, tapping a few times before a smug grin took over his face.

“You’re going to empty my pockets.” You whined.

Soonyoung grinned. “Come on we’ve got to catch the train otherwise we’ll be late. I’ll pay for the tickets.” A small smile flitted across your face before it reverted back into a pout. You huffed, letting Soonyoung clasped your hand as the two of you walked away. “If it makes you feel any better, you can have my strawberries.”

“I just wanna know what was with the personality change back then?”

His cheeks flushed bright red. “I can be confident too…”

“Don’t doubt it. I’ve seen you dance.” The look he gives you has you rolling your eyes. “You’re a totally different person when you’re in the studio.”

His cheeks flushed bright red again causing you to burst into a fit of giggles.

“So what you’re saying is that the bill is too expensive and right now you’re hiding in the bathroom and, might I remind you, you left poor Soonyoung to fend for himself.” Mingyu said through the phone.

“It sounds worse when you say it aloud.”

“You can’t just ditch him Y/n, what are you going to do, climb out a window and escape?” He hissed. You stared at the tiny window at the back. If you did it right you could squeeze through. “If you’re thinking about climbing out of a window I will stop feeding you my brownies.”

“Hey hey hey. No need to deprive my need for brownies Gyu, have some respect.” He snorted, muttering under his breath. “I can still hear what you’re saying.”

“Good.”

Okay maybe running inside the bathroom and hiding in a stall wasn’t going to solve all of our problems. But the bill was hefty and you would probably land yourself in prison if you did manage to pay for it. Also you couldn’t climb out of the window because you really did need those brownies.

“I want you to go out there and say you can’t pay for it and ask Soonyoung to pay for it.”

“Gyu are you crazy?”

“You’re the one in a bathroom stall, not me.” And with that he hung up leaving you alone. You could do this. It was not that hard, not that hard.

Soonyoung was still sitting at the table where you left him but this time all the plates had been cleared and he was staring at his phone. He looked up and smiled. “Thought you were gonna do something illegal. Don’t worry, I paid for everything.”

“D-Did you rob a bank before we came here?” Your mouth was hanging open. That was the only option, unless he really did have enough money but everyone your age was practically broke so…

Soonyoung chuckled, shaking his head. “You didn’t actually think I was going to let you pay for all of that? You’re cute.”

You were left gaping as he took your hand. What just happened? He said your line, your line. You were meant to call him cute. Soonyoung seemed to sense how confused you were because he shot you a dazzling smile.

“Told you I can be confident.”

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt fluff #svt imagines #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #hoshi x reader #soonyoung x reader #svt x reader #soonyoung scenarios #kwon soonyoung x reader #hoshi imagines #hoshi scenarios #seventeen fluff #soonyoung fluff #kwon soonyoung imagines

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dxrlingluv · 25 days ago

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Hello! I would like to request a Hermes x reader if that is ok with you! You can write anything you would like, but here's one of my ideas! It's a little long and a small draft or blueprint! ✨✨(If you check my user, you can see that I am such a simp for Hermes 😭)

After a long part of negotiating, you convince your friend, Apollo, to let you into Olympus. You have been begging him for weeks. This could be where Apollo finally allows the reader to enter and settle in. Apollo also managed to convince Zeus to let you become immortal. After they become comfortable, Hermes could dash in and start teasing Apollo like a normal brother would. Then his eyes shifts to the reader, in a blink of an eye, he starts squeezing the reader's cheeks and examining them. The reader gets nervous and turns red. Apollo sees this reaction and SHIPS you and him. He teased you about this after Hermes leaves for his duties. In the next weeks, the reader couldn't help but think about Hermes. They have been hanging out for a week. The went on adventures, trips to the mortal world, the underworld, and more. Apollo obviously notices this and continues teasing you. One day, while Hermes was on your mind, something happened. Almost like Hermes was reading your mind, he appears behind the reader and scares them. The reader turns around and a moment of silence happens. The reader just looks in his eyes and Hermes does the same. Then he breaks the silence. "Admiring my beauty princess?"(Idea💡) The reader gets flustered and Hermes just leans in. Apollo is the WINGMAN and pushes Hermes into you. Hermes offers you a hand and you just run. Apollo tells his dear brother the truth of the reader's feelings and he now, losing his composure, turns red. Apollo sees that his ship is sailing and in that moment, Hermes disappears. Hermes went to look for you. At the end, he ends up finding you and he asks her a simple question. "Do you like me?" In response the reader turns their head, hiding as much as their face as possible. Hermes puts his hand under your face and turns the reader's head. Forcing them to look into his eyes. Hermes: "Here let me rephrase it. Do you like me back?" Reader: "Back?" Hermes doesn't take any longer and they kiss! Apollo can be snickering in the background.

THANK YOU VERY MUCH! I APPRECIATE THIS! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Do you like me?

A/N : AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! ………. I am most excited to post this one. Hermes art is from Zieru!

WARNING : Fluff, Fem requested Reader, mortal turned immortal!reader, Apollo is a wingman.

Word Count : 3.1k

The golden gates of Olympus gleamed with an ethereal light that seemed to hum with ancient power, a sight that still sent a thrill down your spine even after the initial shock had worn off. For weeks, no, months, you had cajoled, pleaded, and yes, perhaps even resorted to a touch of dramatic sighing, all in an effort to convince your dear friend Apollo to grant you this singular, audacious wish: a glimpse into the home of the gods.

Apollo, ever flamboyant and with a flair for the dramatic himself, had initially treated your pleas as a source of amusement. "My dearest Y/N," he’d drawl, his lyre strumming a lighthearted tune, "Olympus isn't some quaint village you can simply pop into for tea. There are rules, you know. Dad’s rules, mostly. And they’re rather… Zeus-y."

But your persistence, fueled by an insatiable curiosity and a deep fascination with the myths that had colored your mortal life, had eventually worn him down. More than that, he’d seen the genuine yearning in your eyes, the pure, unadulterated wonder that the mere thought of Olympus sparked within you. And so, he had undertaken the Herculean task of not only smuggling you in but also convincing the King of the Gods, Zeus himself, to grant you the unthinkable: immortality.

The negotiations, Apollo had recounted with a theatrical shudder, had been epic. There were thunderous pronouncements, celestial arguments, and at one point, Apollo was fairly certain Hera had threatened to turn him into a particularly unattractive species of newt. But somehow, with his silver tongue, a few well-placed compliments about Zeus’s latest thunderbolt design, and perhaps a strategically composed ode to the King’s magnificent beard, he had succeeded.

And now, here you were, standing in a sun-drenched courtyard paved with what looked like solidified clouds, marble columns carved with impossible skill spiraling towards a sky that shimmered with every color imaginable. Ambrosia-scented air filled your lungs, and distant melodies, more beautiful than anything you’d ever heard, drifted on the breeze.

Apollo, preening slightly under your awestruck gaze, slung an arm around your shoulders. "Not bad, eh? Took a bit of doing, but consider this your official ‘Welcome to the Big Leagues’ package. Immortality, a divine address, and the best tour guide in the cosmos, if I do say so myself." He winked, his golden eyes sparkling with mischief. "Now, let's get you settled. I’ve managed to snag you a rather lovely little cloud-suite overlooking the Nectar Falls. The acoustics are divine."

You were still trying to process the sheer, overwhelming beauty of it all, the fact that this was now, in some unbelievable way, your life, when a sudden blur of motion zipped past, ruffling Apollo's perfectly coiffed hair and nearly sending his laurel wreath askew.

"Still hogging all the prettiest newcomers, brother?" a voice, light and teasing, echoed through the courtyard.

Before Apollo could even retort, a figure materialized in front of him – or rather, vibrated into stillness. He was lean and athletic, clad in a simple chiton that seemed to flutter even in the still air. Winged sandals adorned his feet, and a mischievous grin played on his lips. His eyes, a startling shade of quicksilver, danced with an irrepressible energy. Hermes. The Messenger God.

"Hermes, you overgrown hummingbird!" Apollo huffed, smoothing his hair. "Must you always make an entrance like you’re trying to break the sound barrier?"

Hermes just chuckled, a sound like wind chimes in a summer breeze. "Where's the fun in a sedate arrival, Sunny Jim? Besides, I sensed… potential. And usually, where there’s potential for chaos, you’re not far behind." His gaze then shifted, and for the first time, he seemed to truly notice you, standing slightly behind Apollo, wide-eyed and utterly captivated.

In less than a blink – you were sure of it, one moment he was there, the next he was here – Hermes was in front of you. His approach was so swift, so silent, it was like the air itself had decided to deposit him before you. His quicksilver eyes, bright and intensely curious, scanned your face. Before you could even stammer a greeting, his hands, surprisingly gentle, were on your cheeks. He tilted your head this way and that, his expression one of profound, almost scientific, fascination.

"Well, now, what have we here?" he murmured, his voice a low hum that vibrated through you. His thumbs traced the curve of your cheekbones, and a warmth, entirely unrelated to the Olympian sun, spread through your face, rushing down your neck and settling somewhere deep in your chest. "Apollo, you’ve been holding out on me! Such a lovely specimen. Definitely an improvement on those dryads you were fawning over last week."

Your mind went completely blank. Words, coherent thoughts, even basic motor functions seemed to abandon you. All you could register was the proximity of him, the surprisingly soft touch of his fingers, the playful glint in his eyes, and the fact that your face was undoubtedly radiating heat like a miniature sun. You were sure you were the color of a ripe pomegranate.

Apollo, recovering from his brother's whirlwind entrance, leaned against a nearby column, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across his handsome features as he observed your flustered state. "Oh, I see," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "Making friends already, Y/N? Careful, Hermes, I think you’ve short-circuited this one."

Hermes finally released your cheeks, though his eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer, a spark of something unreadable in their depths. He gave you a wink that made your heart flutter erratically. "Just giving the newcomer a proper Olympian welcome. It’s important to make a good first impression, wouldn't you say?" With another burst of speed that left a faint scent of ozone and wildflowers in his wake, he was suddenly by Apollo’s side again, clapping him on the back. "Duty calls! Messages to deliver, mischief to manage. Don’t get into too much trouble without me, brother. And you," he glanced back at you, his grin widening, "try not to melt. It makes the cloud-floors sticky."

And just like that, he was gone, a fleeting streak of energy vanishing around a towering archway.

The moment Hermes disappeared, Apollo pushed himself off the column, his smirk now a full-blown, teasing grin. He sauntered over to you, waggling his eyebrows. "Well, well, well. If that wasn't the most adorable shade of crimson I've ever seen. Did you feel that, Y/N? The sparks? The undeniable, electrifying zing?" He dramatically fanned himself. "I think my dear brother might have taken a shine to you. And judging by the way you looked like you were about to spontaneously combust, the feeling might just be mutual!"

"I... I don't know what you're talking about," you mumbled, still trying to regain your composure, your cheeks burning hotter than ever under his knowing gaze.

"Oh, I think you do," Apollo sang, poking your still-warm cheek. "Don't worry, your secret admiration is safe with me. Or, you know, mostly safe. This is prime teasing material."

The following weeks were a whirlwind of Olympian proportions. True to his word, Hermes didn't stay a stranger. He’d appear at the most unexpected moments – sometimes with a formal message for Apollo, sometimes with a stolen pastry from Hebe’s kitchens, and often, just to see you. You learned that his boundless energy was matched only by his insatiable curiosity and a surprisingly thoughtful nature hidden beneath layers of playful teasing.

He took you on adventures that blurred the lines between myth and reality. One day, you were soaring over the mortal world on his winged back, the wind whipping through your hair as he pointed out ancient cities and whispered forgotten stories. He showed you the vibrant, bustling marketplaces of Athens, the serene, snow-capped peaks of distant mountains, and the endless, shimmering expanse of the Aegean Sea, all from a perspective few mortals, or even gods, ever witnessed.

Another time, with a mischievous glint in his eye and a promise of "seeing how the other half lives (or, well, un-lives)," he guided you through the shadowy, echoing halls of the Underworld. It wasn't the terrifying, gloomy place you’d imagined from the tales. There were fields of asphodel that rustled with a melancholic beauty, and the silent river Styx glinted with a strange, silver light. Hades, surprisingly, was more of a weary administrator than a fearsome king, and Persephone greeted Hermes with a warm, knowing smile, offering you a pomegranate seed (which Hermes deftly intercepted with a wink, muttering something about "avoiding long-term leases").

Through it all, you found yourself increasingly drawn to him. To his quick wit, his infectious laughter, the way his eyes would soften when he shared a particularly poignant story, the surprising gentleness in his touch when he’d steady you after a particularly daring aerial maneuver. Every shared glance, every fleeting touch, every inside joke chipped away at your initial nervousness, replacing it with a warm, fluttering feeling in your stomach that had nothing to do with flying at high speeds.

And Apollo, bless his meddling, sun-god heart, noticed everything.

"So," he’d begin, usually while you were trying to concentrate on learning a new melody on the lyre he’d gifted you, "any clandestine meetings with a certain winged messenger I should know about? Any secret sighs over a pair of particularly fast sandals?" He’d then launch into an exaggerated imitation of your flustered reactions whenever Hermes was mentioned, much to your mortification and his endless amusement. "Honestly, Y/N, the two of you are so oblivious, it’s almost painful to watch. Or incredibly entertaining. I haven’t decided which yet."

One sun-drenched afternoon, you were lounging by the Nectar Falls, the gentle roar of the cascading sweetness a soothing backdrop to your thoughts. As usual, those thoughts had invariably drifted to Hermes. You were replaying your latest adventure – a trip to a hidden grove on Earth where the moon seemed to shine brighter than anywhere else, and where Hermes had, for a fleeting moment, looked at you with an intensity that made your breath catch. You were wondering if he felt that same strange pull, that delightful, terrifying connection that seemed to hum between you whenever you were close.

"Lost in thought, Princess?"

The voice, smooth and familiar, whispered right behind your ear, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath. You yelped, jumping nearly a foot in the air and spinning around, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird.

There he was, Hermes, leaning casually against a crystalline rock, that trademark mischievous grin firmly in place. His quicksilver eyes, however, held a deeper, more searching look as they met yours.

A thick, charged silence descended, broken only by the distant murmur of the Falls and the frantic thumping of your own heart. You found yourself utterly lost in the swirling silver of his gaze, unable to look away, unable to speak. It felt as if the world had narrowed to this single point, this silent communion between your eyes and his. He, too, seemed captivated, his usual playful demeanor momentarily forgotten as he simply looked at you, a flicker of something unreadable – vulnerability? – in his expression.

Finally, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, breaking the spell. "Admiring my beauty, Princess?" he purred, his voice a low, teasing rumble that sent shivers down your spine. He took a half-step closer, and the scent of wildflowers and ozone, so uniquely him, enveloped you.

Your face, predictably, ignited. Words caught in your throat, forming a jumbled, incoherent mess. "I... you... uh..." you stammered, feeling like a complete fool.

Hermes chuckled, a soft, warm sound. He leaned in, his face just inches from yours, his eyes glinting. "Cat got your tongue? Or perhaps a certain winged god has stolen it?"

Before you could formulate any kind of response, or even remember how to breathe properly, a golden blur appeared at the periphery. Apollo, ever the opportunist, ever the devoted wingman, chose that precise moment to make his move. With a triumphant yell of "And they’re off!", he gave Hermes a firm, well-aimed shove from behind.

The world tilted. Suddenly, Hermes was stumbling forward, his eyes widening in surprise, his hands reaching out instinctively to catch himself – and catching you instead. You found yourself pressed against his chest, his arms automatically circling your waist to steady you both. Your hands landed on his shoulders, and for a heart-stopping second, you were just there, impossibly close, his surprised face inches from yours, his quicksilver eyes wide and searching.

Panic, pure and unadulterated, surged through you. This was too much, too soon, too… everything. With a choked gasp, you did the only thing your flustered brain could think of: you pushed away, spun on your heel, and ran. You didn't know where you were going, only that you needed to put some distance between yourself and the overwhelming intensity of that moment.

Behind you, you heard Apollo’s booming laughter and Hermes’ slightly bewildered, "Well, that was unexpected."

Apollo clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder, his eyes twinkling with mirth and a touch of genuine fondness. "Oh, my dear, clueless brother," he said, shaking his head. "You really don’t see it, do you?"

Hermes frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. "See what? That she runs surprisingly fast for someone who just got here? Or that you seem to derive an unhealthy amount of pleasure from manhandling your siblings?"

"No, you celestial dunce!" Apollo exclaimed, though his tone was affectionate. "She likes you! Immensely! That blush wasn't just from your dazzling proximity, Hermes. That was the blush of a smitten maiden. She’s been thinking about you constantly. Trust me, I’ve been subjected to the secondhand pining for weeks. It’s been… illuminating."

Hermes stared at Apollo, his usually mobile features strangely still. The playful light in his eyes faded, replaced by a dawning realization. Slowly, incredibly, a flush began to creep up his neck, dusting his cheekbones with a rosy hue that mirrored the one you so often sported in his presence. His usual composure, the effortless charm, the unflappable confidence – it all seemed to momentarily crack, revealing a surprising vulnerability beneath. He looked, for all intents and purposes, flustered.

"She… what?" Hermes breathed, his voice barely a whisper.

Apollo’s grin widened into a look of pure, unadulterated triumph. "Aha! There it is! The rare and elusive blush of the Herald of the Gods! My ship is sailing!" he crowed, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "She likes you, you like her – it’s as clear as the Castalian Spring!"

In that precise moment, as the full weight of Apollo’s words seemed to land, Hermes disappeared. Not in his usual blur of speed, but more like he’d simply dematerialized, the air shimmering where he’d stood a second before. He was gone, leaving a very pleased Apollo to snicker to himself.

Hermes, meanwhile, was on a mission. Apollo’s words echoed in his mind: “She likes you. She’s been thinking about you constantly.” A warmth spread through his chest, a feeling far more potent than any ambrosia. He had to find you. He had to know.

He found you in a quiet, secluded garden, tucked away behind the Temple of Hera. You were sitting on a marble bench, staring out at a vista of swirling nebulae that painted the Olympian night sky, though your gaze seemed distant, lost in thought. Your shoulders were slumped, and you were nervously pleating the fabric of your chiton.

He approached quietly this time, no sudden bursts of speed, no playful surprises. He simply appeared beside the bench, his winged sandals making no sound on the star-dusted path.

"Y/N?" he said softly.

You jumped, startled, and your head snapped up. Seeing him, your eyes widened, and you looked like you might bolt again.

"Please," he said, his voice gentle, holding up a hand. "Don't run. Not this time."

You stayed, though you looked incredibly tense, your gaze fixed somewhere over his shoulder. The silence stretched, filled only with the faint, cosmic hum of Olympus.

Hermes sat down on the bench beside you, leaving a respectful distance, though every fiber of his being wanted to close it. He took a deep breath, his heart thrumming a nervous rhythm against his ribs – a sensation he wasn't accustomed to.

"Apollo… he said some things," Hermes began, his voice a little hesitant. "Things about… you. About your feelings." He chanced a glance at your face. You were still resolutely avoiding his eyes, the blush returning to your cheeks.

"Do you like me?" he asked, the question simple, direct, yet loaded with an almost unbearable weight.

You turned your head further away, hiding as much of your face as possible in the fall of your hair. A tiny, almost imperceptible nod was your only answer.

Hermes felt a surge of something akin to triumph, but also an overwhelming tenderness. He reached out, his hand incredibly gentle as he placed it under your chin. Slowly, carefully, he turned your face towards him, forcing you to meet his gaze. His quicksilver eyes were soft, earnest, stripped of all their usual teasing.

"Here," he murmured, his thumb lightly stroking your jawline, "let me rephrase that." His eyes searched yours, a universe of unspoken emotion swirling within them. "Do you like me back?"

Your breath hitched. "Back?" you whispered, your eyes wide as the implication of his word settled in.

Hermes didn't waste another moment. He leaned in, slowly this time, giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn't. You couldn't. Your gaze was locked on his, and as his lips met yours, a sigh escaped you, a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

The kiss was… everything. It was gentle and tentative at first, a question asked and answered. Then, as if a dam had broken, it deepened, becoming infused with all the unspoken longing, the playful banter, the shared adventures, and the electric tension that had crackled between you for weeks. It tasted of wind and wildflowers, of stardust and sunshine, of ambrosia and something uniquely, wonderfully Hermes. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, and you melted into his embrace, your hands finding their way to his hair, tangling in the soft locks.

The world faded away. There was only the two of you, suspended in a perfect, timeless moment, hearts beating in unison.

And somewhere, not too far away, echoing through the celestial gardens, came the distinct, triumphant snicker of a certain sun god, undoubtedly patting himself on the back for a matchmaking job well done. His ship had not only sailed; it had reached its glorious destination.

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